Frank Gallagher had a way of sniffing out weakness like it was a sixth sense.

You learned that the hard way when he started hanging around you a little too often—asking questions, borrowing money he never planned to return, testing boundaries just to see how far he could push. Fiona noticed before you even said anything.

Which was why she suddenly slung an arm around your waist one afternoon like it belonged there.

“Hey, babe,” she said loudly, leaning into you. “You ready to go?”

You stiffened for half a second—then realized Frank had stopped mid-sentence.

Frank squinted at the two of you. “Babe?”

Fiona didn’t miss a beat. She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, casual but convincing. “Yeah. Babe. As in mine.”

Frank’s eyes flicked between you and her, suspicious. “Since when?”

“Since always,” she shot back. “You just don’t pay attention unless there’s something in it for you.”

Frank scoffed. “So what, you two are—”

“Together,” Fiona finished flatly. “Very.”

She tightened her grip just a little, a silent go with it. You did.

“Yeah,” you said. “Together.”

Frank grimaced like he’d bitten into something sour. “Well… good for you,” he muttered, already losing interest. “Guess I’ll, uh—catch you later.”

He disappeared down the block.

The second he was gone, Fiona dropped her arm and exhaled hard. “Jesus. He was circling you like a shark.”

“That was… convincing,” you said.

She glanced at you, suddenly more aware of how close you still were. “Yeah, well. Frank only backs off if he thinks someone’s off-limits. Especially if that someone’s mine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So this is a one-time thing?”

She hesitated. Just a beat too long.

“Until he forgets,” she said finally. “Which could be a day. Could be weeks. Frank’s unpredictable.”