ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

20: But it Really Does Look Like 'Anal'

"Oh, my God, you look like shit." Jamia greeted as she waddled out of her house, her stomach protruding a lot more than Frank had remembered. He looked at her in her comfy maternity leggings and a pink polka-dot tunic top that matched the perennial blush to her cheeks. Frank sniffed, smiling weakly as he cradled her face in his hands before hugging her as tightly as he deemed suitable- And as tightly as he could with such a big preggo-belly between them.

"That's funny because I feel like Hell," Frank commented, his voice rough and raw from his pathetic cry-fest earlier.

"Come on, let's go inside." She tried to grab one of Frank's bags when he swatted her hand away with a scowl, "Oh, c'mon, I'm pregnant, not disabled. Let me help."

"They're heavy."

"So is this kid." She scoffed, "Now give."

Frank looked at her insistent face with a sigh, "I don't want you to get hurt carrying my underwear or something."

"Give me the damn bag." She scowled, taking a bag from him with a huff as she turned and walked back to her house. Frank grabbed his suitcase and his duffel before he closed the car door with his hip. He walked into the house with a huff, setting his bags down where Jamia had set his other bag in the front hallway. He looked around, realizing that in the few months that he hadn't seen her, the house hadn't changed at all. There was still a homely feel to everything, there were still dog-related knick-knacks and paintings everywhere and a lot of things were different shades of purple- Her favorite color.

"How are you, Poptart?" She asked as she carefully lowered herself down onto the sofa, patting a spot next to her.

"Yeah..." Frank muttered softly as he sat beside her, kicking his shoes off carefully, stretching his toes, "I've been better, Nez."

"What's happened?" She frowned, tucking a piece of straightened black hair behind her ear as Frank scooted around. He lay his head down on her lap, looking up at her for a moment before he closed his eyes.

"Ryan and I- We- We broke..." His voice cracked heavily at the end, cutting off his sentence as he felt his eyes sting.

"Why? I thought you guys would be together forever." Jamia sounded genuinely concerned as Frank flinched.

"He- He went off the deep end, Nez." Frank's breath came out wobbly, "He got me fired from my job at the paper because he told his parents I got a job opportunity."

"With?"

"Working as Congressman Way's assistant." Frank blushed slightly, "Which I accepted."

"So, you work for that ginger hunk of a Greek God?" Jamia asked and Frank nodded, trying not to smile at her choice of words, "You lucky bitch."

"He's..." Frank opened his eyes, "Eccentric."

"And gorgeous." She sighed.

"And married." Frank snorted, "Happily."

"Bummer." She scoffed, "So, what happened? He got you fired from the paper and then?"

"Then he just... He got so paranoid that there was something going on with Gerard and I. He fucking showed up at my office yesterday to check him out and decorated my desk with the soppiest shit. I just- It was so embarrassing and Gerard saw right through it. I've only been there for three days, Nez."

"That doesn't sound like Ryan." She frowned, "What in the fuck?"

"I know..." Frank trailed off, the tears filling his eyes yet again, blurring his vision completely, "And he was insistent that Gerard and I were fucking on the side just because Gerard bought me two suits for work."