First fight/Making up HC with Frankie? 🥺
Idk why I'm in the mood for some ✨angst✨ 🥲
Oh our grogrous pilot, fighting with him would be simply heartbreaking but let's take a look, shall we?
💥- a First fight/Make up HC with Frankie
Frankie is soft spoken and unassuming by nature. He isn't known for explosive outbursts or confrontation, and is more likely to internalise any conflict he may have. It’s very unhealthy and has been a contributing factor in many of the issues he faced in life, both during his time in service and afterwards.
When you two start dating, you’ve already had to fight your way to that position. Your relationship was built on friendship, and the shift to romance scared the living crap out of Frankie. He was going to fuck it up, someone like you could never see him as anything more than a friend, he was just too fucked up.
But you faced every obstacle he might have unwittingly thrown in your way, and the relationship that blooms is truly beautiful having been born from such adversity. He fought so hard because he cared that much. You understand that, you get it--- but that doesn’t mean you didn’t learn to recognise his habit of self-sabotage.
Because of this, you’re now very good at spotting it.
So when you run into some old friends of yours, several of whom are strapping, handome, successful men-- he wonders why you’re with a guy like him. You guys have only been dating a month, and it was obvious you could have had any of them you wanted.
That night he might make a comment, a deflection from his own insecurity-- a casual “God Pup, you really lowered your standards for me.”
And it hurts. It hurts enough to make you mad. That he would think-- that he could ever even imagine that he wasn’t enough for you? The alcohol in your systems don’t help and you end up snapping at him, “You really think so little of me, Cat?”
And like the good soldier he is, Frankie would stay silent-- not respond and contain the swells of conflicting emotions from surfacing; the insecurity, the guilt of keeping you down with him when you could soar, the guilt of hurting you for thinking that way.
“Why are you trying to ruin this before we’ve even had a chance?” you’d finally exclaim, tears that you can’t hide shining in your eyes and his heart would simply shatter. Shatters because he loves you, and when he loves something in his fucked up life and in his fucked up way-- he taints it, and he doesn’t want to taint you. But God, he’s selfish. He doesn’t want to let you go.
So when you storm out of the bedroom - you will not let him see you cry - he’s after you in a heartbeat. You had only been making your way to the kitchen, to grab some water to cool down, but the iron hold he takes you in, clinging to you as he hugs you from behind is like he’s trying to keep the pieces of himself together, using you like glue to hold those broken parts he desperately wants mended together.
“Don’t go, Pup--” he’d mutter in your neck, his hold almost bruising but that wasn’t what bothered you-- the hammering of his heart against your back did.
“I’m not going anywhere... baby-- look at me,” you’d soothe, turning in his hold when he loosened it enough to let you. Those gorgeous eyes would be consumed by the ghosts that usually lay hidden just below their surface. Self-sabotage was how Frankie tried to protect himself, you always knew this-- even when he didn’t.
It was good to see him fight though, to see him backtrack on that sabotage… for you. He was trying, and that was all youcould ask for.
“I’m here, Cat--- I’m here,” you’d wrap your arms around him, and when he sags against you, the relief evident in the drop of his shoulders and the exhale against your neck, you card your fingers through his hair gently,
“I don’t abandon the people I love, Frankie. Never. You’re stuck with me.” you’d whisper in his ear and his arms would tighten around you once more, and you never felt safer-- more loved, or cherished than when he used that raw, unpolished affection in hugging you.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Pup...”
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