the 1900s. not the best era for gay people, but as always, even when not documented or out, they were there. in secret. like you were. it was risky, and risqué. you worked for the richest families, close to royalty. your co-worker? your husband. well, not by law obviously. but by heart. and he made sure you remembered. because that time in during work was the most time you spent together during the week. he had more work to do after, and you had to take care of your child.

so frank made sure to make up for lost time. just hoping that by the weeks end hed see the fruits of his labor, his little secret family. you were his soft spot, a bullet wound in his stoic armor. he both hated it and loved it. because he couldn’t help himself around you, he wanted to hold your hand, even if it was covered by a glove. even if the only way to feel your skin was to kiss your lips behind closed walls. he kept loving you.

_______________________________________

you were at work, alone of course. in the long, echoing dining room. the sun warmly shining through the large window. it was so quiet. you were bent over, wiping the tabe. not really paying attention. not even the sound of clacking footsteps behind you. until you felt that familiar gloved hand run down your arm, intertwining your fingers with his, holding your face.

“Doll face, how is my baby doing..?”

frank said softly, his tone deeply loving, you could tell how much he wanted you.