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To be honest, he's been expecting it since day one.
He'd expected himself to have difficulty telling the boys apart. When they were born they didn't look so different from one another. They weren't identical, not exactly, but they were close.
Then again, no newborn looks that different from any other, right? Frank stopped worrying after a month. He'd learned Arthur and Neal's little faces. He'd learned their personalities - how Arthur is the light sleeper but Neal is the one who has to be coddled to get him to sleep; that Neal doesn't like being bundled too tight, but Arthur gets cold easy if Frank doesn't put him in the right kind of sleeper.
Still, Frank's expected the boys to one day try and use their relationship as twins to their advantage. They're his boys. Entirely too clever for their old man's good and just as resourceful as Frank's ever been.
They're four the first time they prove him right.
"For fuck's sake, Victoria. They don't even look alike!" Not really. When Arthur brushes his hair sorta into his eyes, Frank supposes- And if they did switch clothes...
Still. Who the hell did Victoria give access to Frank's kids?
"Don't be vulgar in front of the children, Frances," Victoria says coolly. "And need I remind you, you came to me for help. Rosa helped me give it, and it's her job to run my kitchen. Not to play nursemaid for a couple of duplicitous little boys. Who would expect a four-year-old to ask for medicine that he's not supposed to take?"
Someone who knew his boys, that's who. Someone who knew Neal's dislike for anything grape-flavored and Arthur's tendency to try and step in and save Neal from the things that he dislikes. Frank did come to Victoria for help... juggling business and the care of two sick toddlers.. so he doesn't protest her telling him not to cuss in front of his own kids if he feels like it.
But he grumbles. He grumbles a lot as they sit and wait to see the doctor. Neal is burning up in his arms and Arthur looks high, pupils blown wide.
Frank grumbles even as he watches Victoria cool Neal's brow with a wet cloth and brush her fingers through Arthur's hair. For having called them both 'duplicitous', she sure does seem fond of Frank's troublesome twin sons.
Then again, Frank figures, this is Victoria. Trust her to use a term like 'duplicitous' as an endearment.
He lets her hold his hand and redirects his complaints to the slow speed of European doctors, away from Victoria's precious kitchen staff.
The boys are eleven the next time Frank catches them pulling a fast one.
The key word here is catches... And, technically, they've just pulled a fast one. They're not in the middle of pulling anything - except maybe grades that they don't really deserve.
"So you expect me to believe that Arthur made this score on his test? Arthur did it? That's what the two of you are saying?"
Actually, Arthur hasn't said much of anything. He's sitting up straight, looking Frank in the eye. His boys show respect. They conduct themselves like young men. No slouching. No whining. Frank taught them that.
But he taught them some other things, as well. Things they weren't supposed to use on him, goddamnit. The way Arthur's weighing each word... being careful not to lie but to not incriminate himself either.
And the way Neal answers Frank's question without answering his question?
"I'm not saying I didn't help him," Neal says, looking to his brother. "Right, Artie? We didn't say that."
Oh, yeah. Frank taught them that.
"But you asked if we cheated. We didn't cheat," Neal insists. They could go round and round like this for hours. Frank decides to cut right to it.
"You took his test for him, Neal. That's cheating." Nevermind how they did it. It's not like they're toddlers anymore. Tricking Auntie's cook into giving the wrong one of them his medicine or the babysitter into giving one of them too much caffeine, the other seconds of his favorite kind of cookie. Neal's a full head taller than Arthur now, though it looks like Arthur could easily pass Neal up when he finally gets his growth spurt. The boys' complectiions are different and they don't even cut their hair the same way anymore.
What Frank is interested in is why they did this. It's not like Arthur to (knowingly) let Neal fight a battle for him. Frank considers the 'wrong' and 'right' of the matter to be subjective in this instance (Frank's not subtle with his thoughts on standardized tests). But the risk the boys took by doing it is clear. They could have both gotten into some serious trouble.
"Actually, sir," Arthur says, speaking up for the first time. "Mrs. Donahue defined 'cheating' for Neal before the test started and she didn't say anything about taking someone else's test."
Neal nods emphatically. "She said we couldn't look at the test to the right or to the left of us," he explains, oh so innocently. "And I didn't do that."
Frank sighs. "Arthur's name was on the test, Neal."
"He didn't put it there," Arthur volunteers.
"Yeah. I just walked in and sat down and Mrs. Donahue told us all what to do so I did it."
His children. They could grow up to be lawyers. Frank shudders and pushes on.
"Okay, cut the crap, boys. You know better than that," Frank's tirade begins. "And you know what I really care about. You could have gotten yourselves kicked out of school pulling this stunt! And for what? You both did well enough on your Math tests to flunk out on Writing and pass, and you havent flunked a test in your life, Arthur. Why'd you let Neal take your test?"
They look at each other. Speaking whatever silent twinspeak they speak half the time Frank sees them.
But neither of them says anything. Frank's got an idea what they're not saying, and - as usual - he's half proud and half frustrated out of his mind by the pair of them. Too loyal to one another to point a finger in any direction, but too respectful of him to outright cover each other's ass.
"Alright..." Frank stands. "Here's how it's gonna be. Double duty in the yard this week. Mowing, weeding, the works. And the same thing next week... and the next... until one of you comes clean."
Hopefully Frank's lawn will survive all the attention. The only thing greater than Neal's abhorance for yardwork is his ability to do badly at it.
Sure enough, both boys look unhappy, but it's Neal who stands and protests.
"Sir! But you hate the tests. You think they're a waste of state funding." Frank carefully doesn't smile at Neal's parroting. An eleven-year-old discussing 'state funding'... "And we didn't get kicked out of school. We got away with it..."
"Look at me, Junior," Frank says. He's wearing one of his sterner "Stern Faces" (as the boys call them). "Does it look like you got away with it?"
It takes a little more work, but eventually it's Arthur who gives Frank the story, with a reluctant nod from Neal. Neal promised to take Arthur's Writing test for him and do his English homework for a month if Arthur let Neal pretend to be him for one period each day this past semester.
Frank digs up the boys' school schedules and wonders why Neal needed so badly to take Arthur's P.E. class third period.
Arthur's co-ed P.E. class...
"You gotta be kidding me."
Forget lawyers. If Frank doesn't do something about this... his boys could grow up to be politicians.