Archive of Our Own

Fuck France, fuck Paris, fuck all French people. 

Frank pulled his jacket around himself. Some fucker stole his wallet, so he had to make a call to a bank to cancel his cards, which made him late for his train. He missed the train, so he got a taxi, who only took him a few miles, because his car broke down. 

Amazing. 

Marseilles to Paris was already a five hour train ride. Frank barely spoke French. 

He was suffering. 

He was still in the train station- the taxi driver had called his friend to bring Frank back here, free of charge. He made his way to the information booth and looked up at the sign. It was digital, with white letters. It kind of reminded him of the ones in Grand Central Station back home. 

There was another train going from Marseilles to Paris at six o’clock, which would mean that it would be eleven when he got there. Thankfully, he’d already mostly moved into the apartment he had bought, so he didn’t have to unpack anything, just the small bag he had. The company had let him have the day off the next day to get used to living there, and the band they were recording was speedwriting their music as they spoke, anyways. 

Frank didn’t know how long he’d be here for. But his boss wanted him to move over here. New York was great, but France allegedly had a rising punk scene, and Frank was one of the best producers at Passion Records. 

He communicated shakily with the person in the information booth. His French was bad, really bad. But he knew enough, apparently, to trade the ticket for the train he missed for a new one. 

He waited around for another half hour, then rushed to get on the train as soon as it arrived. It was pretty full, but he managed to get a seat by himself. 

He fell asleep on the train ride, rocked into unconsciousness by the train moving smoothly over the tracks. He jumped awake when the horn went off. In the distance, he could see Paris- probably. The only thing he really knew about Paris was the Eiffel Tower, and he couldn’t see it. 

The train stopped about half an hour later. Frank picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then followed the crowd off the train. 

He managed to get a taxi, and recited his new address to the driver. He drove him over with no problem, until Frank realized that he now didn’t have any money. He tried to explain, but with the two minute Duolingo lessons he was taking, it wasn’t helping much. 

Eventually, the driver just kicked him out of the car and drove away. Frank sighed and reached into his bag for his keys. He unlocked the metal gate, then walked up a few flights of stairs to his apartment. He unlocked the door. 

It was nice, seeing all his things here. He’d moved in a week ago, then went back home to settle things and say goodbye to his family. He was excited about it, and nervous. This new apartment allowed pets, so he’d finally be able to get a dog, but he wasn’t sure how anything worked here. He knew the culture was all different, the language. There was no 7/11 here for late night slushee runs. 

One of his friends back home had studied abroad in Paris, so she explained some things to him. Supermarkets were far and few between, most people in Paris did their shopping in neighborhood stores or markets. Eye contact is considered an invitation for things you WILL NOT WANT so don’t (she tapped his nose here) make eye contact with strangers. That’s all Frank could really remember. She also taught him customer-vendor scripts, which they practiced quite a few times together so that he could remember how to buy things. 

Frank unpacked his bag, then cooked an egg to eat before bed. He would have to go to the bank in the morning, and he needed a new license, so he’d have to go to the DMV. If Paris had DMVs. Not that Frank intended to drive many places. He left his car back home. 

He finished his egg, washed his plate, and then went to bed. 

*

The first thing Frank noticed when he woke up was that his bed was on the wrong side of the room. There was sun streaming into his face. He made a mental note to get curtains. 

He rolled out of bed and stumbled around the apartment, trying to find the bathroom. Once he’d relieved his bladder, he checked his phone. No notifications, nothing he missed. Perfect. 

He made himself toast. He had a tiny bit of food, but he would definitely need to go shopping later. So he needed money. 

He got dressed, then put in his bank address in google maps. He followed it, and immediately regretted his choice of punk clothing. The bank was so fancy. 

He walked inside, already intimidated by the décor. The only teller at her desk looked up when he approached her. “Bonjour.”

“Hi, um, vous parlez anglais?” Frank asked crudely. It was one of the only sentences he knew. 

“Yes.” She smiled. “What can I help you with?”

“Um, someone stole my wallet yesterday, and I cancelled my cards, so I guess I need to get new ones?”

“Yep! You’re with our bank, yes?”

“Yeah, but I just moved from the US, so I don’t know if it’s exactly the same.”

“We’re an international bank, not to worry. What’s your name and bank account?”

Frank recited All the Bank Things to her, then waited while she went to get him his cards. 

“Here you are, same pins and everything,” she said. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually, are there DMVs in France? I don’t think my New Jersey license will be accepted here.” 

“Yes, there are. You probably won’t have to take a driving test again, but if they make you, there’s nothing you can do about it. Have a nice day, Mr. Iero.”

“Thank you.” Frank smiled politely and walked out of the bank.

He made his way back to his apartment. He could wait to get a license. He had his passport if he really needed it. 

He walked back to his apartment and made a shopping list. He wasn’t entirely sure where to find everything, since he only remembered patisserie , which was the bakery. He mostly ate bread and stuff anyways. But where would he find vegetables? 

Google was a serious godsend. It told him he would probably find fruits and vegetables at a market. Okay, so he could ask his new neighbors. Maybe. If they spoke English. 

He wandered around for a bit until he actually stumbled right into the shops. They were in a little area with benches and trees. 

Frank made sure they were open, then pushed open the door to the bakery. It seemed empty, but it smelled fucking amazing. 

A man with short white- blond?- hair scurried out from the back. “Désolé, désolé, puis-je vous aider?”

Frank blinked. “Uh. What?”

“English?” he asked. He smiled when Frank nodded. “No problem. What can I help you with?”

He was speaking English well, but he still had a heavy French accent. It was cute. 

“Um, I wanted to buy some bread? It’s obviously…” Frank scanned the display case. “Not the same as in America.”

“Yes, that’s full of- what-” The baker shook his head. “Not good things. I can’t remember the word. The bread is baked fresh each morning.”

“You must wake up early,” Frank said. It was only eight o’clock now. 

“My home is right above, it’s not too hard.” He smiled wistfully. “Four a.m. except for Sunday’s.”

Frank grimaced. “I guess that makes us neighbors. I’m Frank Iero, I just moved here.”

“Enchanté,” the baker greeted. “I’m Gerard Way.”

“Cute name,” Frank said honestly. 

Gerard blushed. “What can I get you, then?”

“Um.” Frank looked back down at the display cases. “Bread?”

Gerard laughed softly. He had a weird laugh, but it was still cute. “Oui, I know. What kind of bread? We have baguettes, if that’s what you are looking for.”

“Um...yeah, sure, that should work. It seems a little hard to make sandwiches out of that though.”

“Not at all. Look.” Gerard picked up half a baguette from the counter behind him and showed Frank how it was cut in the middle. “It opens like a book.”

“Oh, okay, I guess I’ll get that then. You take cards, right?”

“Yes.” Gerard smiled. “The machine doesn’t read many American ones though, so cash would be better.”

“I actually just got French cards this morning, I think.” Frank pulled out his debit card while Gerard packaged a baguette for him. “Someone stole my wallet in Marseille.”

“That’s too bad. I’ll let you know if I see it.” Gerard winked. 

“Thank you.” Frank handed him his card. “By the way...is Google right in telling me that I’d buy things at a market?”

“Oui, it is. You can buy fish, meat and...what’s the last one...the food. It goes with wine.”

“Cheese?”

“Yes! You can buy those in shops, but vegetables and fruit you have to buy at markets. There’s one tomorrow, would you like to join me?”

“Really? That would be great.” Frank smiled. “I don’t speak much French, this is a fucking nightmare.”

Gerard laughed. “Well, I’d be happy to teach you. Just say the word.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, but I have work tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Do you have a lunch break?”

“I should, around twelve.”

“That will work! Come meet me here then, and I’ll help you out.”

“Okay. Uh, merci, au revoir.”

Gerard beamed. “Au revoir, Frank!”

Frank waved as he left the shop. 

He stopped at the cheese shop (called the fromagerie) before he went back home. At home, unpacking his groceries, he realized how incredibly lonely he felt. 

He hadn’t lived with someone in a long time, not since his boyfriend broke up with him a year ago. But Jamia was always breaking into his apartment and making him go out and do things, and scaring the shit out of him. 

So, he found himself on the couch, texting Jamia while he looked through pet shelters in Paris. 

It probably wasn’t the best idea to get a dog yet. He’d just moved in, plus once he started work again, he’d be gone at really weird hours. There was one time he was at the studio for a full twenty four hours so the band could finish their album and record it (after that, they all fell asleep right in the studio, Frank included). 

So maybe he could just make a friend. Gerard seemed nice, and he had even invited Frank to go to the market with him the next day. 

Plus, some of those things in the display case had looked really good. 

*

Work had been great, except that Frank couldn’t understand a word the band was saying. They spoke English to him, but he couldn’t understand when the vocalist was singing. The instruments all worked fine, but the singing was a problem. He couldn’t tell when the singer messed up or when it wasn’t pronounced right. 

Finally, he was released for lunch and so the band could take a break. He walked in the direction of home, but instead of going to his apartment, he went back to the bakery. 

Gerard was with a customer, speaking French way too quickly for Frank to comprehend. But he glanced over and smiled at Frank in acknowledgement. 

Frank waited while he finished up. After the woman left, he walked over to the counter. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour, comment était ton jour?”

“Uh.” Frank blinked. “Oui?”

Gerard laughed. “Where in the world are you learning French?”

“Duolingo? It’s not very good.” 

“I can tell. Now, come on, let’s get to the market before you have to get back to work.”

Frank followed Gerard out of the bakery. They stepped into the sun and, yeah, his hair was definitely pure white. 

Gerard flipped the open sign to closed and looped his arm through Frank’s. “What exactly is it you need?”

“Um, things like eggs and some fruit.”

“Eggs you’ll find in the cheese shop, the fromagerie. Milk will be there too. What kind of fruit?”

“Um...apples? Maybe blueberries, too, I like those.”

“Sure, I’m sure we can find those. Anything else?”

“Bananas?”

“Oh, I need those too! Banana bread is very popular in summer.”

“I wonder why,” Frank said. 

Gerard led him down a few different streets until they came to what must have been a big open area when there weren’t stalls. “Oh! Any vegetables, Frank?”

“Oh, yeah, actually, carrots and celery would be good...maybe lettuce, do you think they have lettuce?”

“They do. Come sit.” Gerard led him over to a bench and pulled out a notebook. He handed it to Frank, then dug a pen out of the bag Frank hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “Make a list.”

Frank wrote down the items he needed, then passed it to Gerard. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Gerard added a few more items. “Come on, I’ll pay.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-”

“I insist. Plus, they don’t often take cards here.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, I don’t have any cash.”

“You’ll let me pay then.” Gerard smiled. 

They walked around the stalls together. Gerard had given Frank another bag from his bag, and he was filling it up with groceries. 

“What do you do for work?” Gerard asked as they walked to the opposite side of the market. 

“Oh, um, I’m a music producer. I work for a company called Passion Records. We mostly produce punk music, and I guess the punk scene is pretty big in France right now, so my boss transferred me here. I’m working with a band called Nuit Noire right now, which sounds pretty fucking cool.”

“Nuit Noire,” Gerard repeated. “I think my brother saw them.”

“They’re pretty good. I just can’t understand what the singer is saying, so if she messes up, I’m not gonna know.”

“I’m sure it will be good.” Gerard smiled and turned to buy some bananas. 

Frank’s phone buzzed with a text while he did. He covered the screen to read it. “Aw, okay, I guess have the rest of the day off. The singer just blew out her voice.”

“Then we must have lunch!” Gerard put two bundles of green bananas in the bag Frank was holding. “We’re all done shopping, I’d love for you to come home.”

“Um, alright, sure.”

“Excellent!” Gerard looped their arms together again. 

They walked back to the bakery. Gerard pushed open the door, but left the sign on closed. He lifted up a section of the counter and gestured Frank through. “Just up the stairs.”

Frank followed him upstairs. He raised his eyebrows once they got to the top. Gerard’s place was actually pretty nice. 

“Please take your shoes off,” Gerard said. “Wait, are you allergic to cats?”

“Uh, nope, just pollen. And nature in general. Not cats though.”

“Good.” Gerard led him to the kitchen. “I have two, who are probably in my room. Lotion! Mitch! Viens ici!”

There was a meow from somewhere in the apartment, and then a hiss. Gerard put the bag down on his kitchen counter. “Lotion! Mitch! Ici, maintenant!”

Two cats came barreling out of the hallway. Frank squeaked and jumped back into Gerard as they narrowly missed his legs. 

“Sorry about that, they’re usually well behaved. They must be excited today.” Gerard crouched down and picked up one of his cats. “Lotion, dire salut à Frank!”

Lotion didn’t say anything. He did look at Frank skeptically though. 

“Uh, bonjour, Lotion.” Frank smiled. “Can I pet him?”

“Of course!” Gerard smiled. 

Frank put his hand on Lotion’s head. “You’re so soft.”

“He’s one of the breeds of cat I’m not allergic to,” Gerard explained. He let Lotion go when he started wriggling in his arms. “Va jouer avec Mitch, mon chéri.”

“Did you just call your cat dear?”

“I did.” Gerard smiled and went to wash his hands. “Have a seat, what would you like for lunch?”

“Uh. I don’t know, whatever you make is fine.”

“I’m a vegetarian, so the only meat I have in the house is the cat food. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, I’m a vegetarian too, actually.”

Gerard smiled. “Cool! I’ll make us sandwiches.”

Frank watched as Gerard cut a baguette in half, then in half the other way. He was using a large bread knife, which kind of scared Frank, but he could probably trust the baker in the room with a bread knife.

“I have Swiss cheese, will that work?” Gerard asked. 

“Sure. What’s gonna be on here, actually?”

“Butter, Swiss cheese, and likely tomatoes and lettuce, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

Gerard nodded and continued to make the sandwiches. When he finished, he poured them each a glass of water and brought the food over to the table. “Voilà, enjoy.”

“Thank you.” Frank smiled. “Seriously, you’re a really great friend.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Gerard smiled back. “Not to get too dark and heavy, but I don’t have much friends.”

“Why’s that?” Frank asked, picking up his sandwich and trying not to lose all the ingredients.

“I was planning to take over the bakery from my parents when I was fifteen, so I always worked when there was no school. My brother tried to get me to talk to people, but I never did, and I just got so caught up in the bakery. Everyone who comes through here is just a customer, except you. I serve all day, and you looked past that.”

Frank swallowed the bite of sandwich he’d taken. “Wow. That sounds super lonely.”

“It is. What about you? Do you have any friends?”

“Just one. Her name is Jamia, and she lives back home. Well, I guess this is home now. She lives in Jersey. We went to high school together, and we dated for a while, but then I came out.”

“Came out?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah. You know what that means?”

“Not really...sorry, I’m not sure of English slang.”

“It’s alright. It just means that I told people I’m gay. It’s kinda short for coming out of the closet, although I’m not sure the significance of that.”

“Oh, I see. It’s good that you were able to tell her.”

“Yeah. She took it really well, actually.”

“She sounds sweet.” Gerard smiled. 

“She is! I bet she’d love you.”

One of Gerard’s cats jumped up on the table then and went right for Frank’s sandwich. Gerard stood up and caught him. “One second, Frank.”

He walked away, speaking French way too fast for Frank to understand anything. 

Frank heard a door close, and then Gerard walking back to the table, muttering something under his breath. He looked up again. “Sorry. My- uh, cats! My cats like people much.”

“It’s alright.” Frank smiled. 

They finished eating, and exchanged numbers. They also watched a movie on Gerard’s couch, something he insisted was a French classic. Frank couldn’t understand a word of it. 

It was about three when he left, since neither of them really wanted to leave. But Gerard had to open the bakery again. 

Frank bought some groceries from the cheese store, then walked home. He put his eggs and milk in the fridge, then started wandering around, deciding what to cook for dinner. He did really like cooking. Maybe he could invite Gerard over for dinner one day. 

He felt useless with nothing to do. He wandered aimlessly around his apartment. He couldn’t settle in front of the TV long enough to even start it. 

He decided to just have toast and head to bed early. 

*

When Frank woke up and turned off his alarm, he saw that he had a text from Gerard. It was a picture of one of his cats with the caption Mitch says goodmorning.  

The text was also sent at 4:30 a.m. Yikes.

Good morning Mitch and Gerard Frank typed. He put his phone down and went to take a shower. 

When he got back, he had another text. You should come to the bakery! I made good things. 

Frank sat on his bed, only in a towel. What kind of good things? 

You’ll have to come to the bakery, won’t you?

Frank laughed. I’ll come at lunch. 

He got dressed and attempted to dry his hair a bit more, but sadly, it was a hopeless cause. He made himself breakfast, then headed into work. 

The studio was about half an hour away by subway (or whatever it was called). Frank thankfully didn’t get anything stolen from him this time, but he did receive judging stares for his clothes and tattoos. Everyone here was dressed so formally. 

Looks like Frank would have to go clothes shopping. 

He walked into the studio right on time. The receptionist waved him through without even asking to see his badge. 

The band was waiting for him in the small lounge, tuning instruments and stuff. 

“Hey! Are we all doing okay? You can sing?” he asked. He got a general grumble of tired “Yes,” so he figured it was okay. “Alright, we’ll start with drums today. Renée, head on in.”

Renée did not seem pleased about this. She picked herself up off the couch and walked into the studio. 

*

After a long, long day of work, Frank finally went back home. He hadn’t realized how hot it was in the studio, but he was sweating. He took another shower, then walked to the bakery. 

Gerard was leaning on the counter, his eyes glazed over. But he shot up when he saw Frank. “Hi!”

“Hey.” Frank smiled. 

“Okay, you’re American, right? I need your opinion on something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I tried to make an American style pie, and I’m not sure how well it went.”

“Well, I’m always down to eat pie.”

“Good!” Gerard turned and opened one of the ovens behind him. He pulled a pie pan out and placed it on the counter. “Give me just a moment, and we can take it upstairs.”

Frank waited while Gerard flipped the sign to closed and ran back around the counter to grab the pie. He started walking upstairs, so he quickly followed. 

Gerard set the pie down on his kitchen counter and got a knife from a drawer. “I don’t know how well this went, since I had to make my own filling. What in the world is canned cherries?”

“Oh, it’s for cherry pie. A lot of people in the US use it because it’s easier than using real cherries.”

Gerard frowned. “Ew.”

“Yeah, it’s not the greatest.” Frank leaned against the counter as Gerard cut him a slice of pie. “This is cherry?”

“Yes, and I tried to make it match the picture. I had to make my own crust, so I’m not sure if it worked. Will you get me a dish?”

“Sure, where are they?” 

Gerard pointed to a cupboard, so Frank opened it and grabbed a plate. He handed it to Gerard, who placed a clumsily sliced piece of pie on it. 

“Try it!” Gerard insisted, handing Frank a fork. 

Frank tried not to think of Gerard watching him. He cut off a small piece and put it in his mouth. “Wow.”

“Is it good? Bad?”

“It’s-” Frank spit it out. “Fucking awful, holy shit.”

Gerard’s face fell. “At least I tried.”

“Are you busy tonight? My mom makes pie every Christmas, I’d be happy to help you out.”

“Really?” His face lit up again. 

“Yeah, of course!”

“You’re a lifesaver, Frankie!” Gerard hugged him. “We’ll have American pie for dinner! I’ll be right back with an apron for you.”

“You don’t have to-” Frank’s protests were useless. Gerard was already gone. He came back a minute later, though, and handed Frank an apron. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Gerard smiled and picked up the gross pie. “I’ll get rid of this.”

Frank tied his apron on while Gerard disposed of the pie. When he came back, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Show me how it’s done.”

“The first thing you’re gonna want is a pie pan. It’s like a cake pan, but it’s more shallow.”

“I have this foil one that I bought,” Gerard said. 

“Yeah, that’ll work. Apple pie would be easier to make than cherry. Do you have apples?”

“I do.”

“Perfect, I’m gonna steal like three of those. I’ll cut those up, can you make a crust?”

“Yep!” Gerard ran over to the bowl of fruit on his table and got three apples for Frank. “There’s more if you need them.”

“Thanks. Here.” Frank googled a recipe for a pie crust quickly. “I have mine tuned to American results, I think, so you won’t get French pie crusts.”

“I think they’re similar, but I don’t know.” Gerard took his phone. 

“My friend Jamia told me French pies are more like tarts,” Frank said, stealing one of Gerard’s knives to cut up an apple. 

“That may be true.”

They worked in mostly comfortable silence, occasionally broken by Gerard asking questions. Once they finished assembling the pie, they put it in the oven. 

“That has to bake for about forty minutes now,” Frank said. 

“Want to watch a movie while we wait?” Gerard asked. 

“Sure!” Frank smiled. 

They ended up watching a superhero movie. It was terrible, but Frank got one of the cats to sit on his lap, so it was forgiven. 

When the oven went off, Gerard pulled the pie out and let it cool, then hopped back on the couch with Frank. He smiled and rested his head on his shoulder. 

Now. Frank definitely thought Gerard was cute. He may have had short white hair and looked scary if he wasn’t smiling, but the permanent grin on his pink lips was adorable.

Frank was overcome with the urge to kiss Gerard. He could just lean down and press their lips together. But he couldn’t do that! Gerard was probably straight, and besides, they were just friends. 

“How long do you think it will take the pie to cool?” Gerard looked up at Frank. 

Frank kissed him. 

To his surprise, Gerard didn’t pull away. He just twisted slightly and placed his hands on Frank’s chest. 

Frank pulled away to breath. Gerard’s lips were even more pink than before. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

“Really?”

Gerard nodded. “Why do you think I’ve been so excited about you?”

“Um...friendship?”

Gerard giggled and pressed their lips together again. He parted his lips when Frank’s tongue ran across his lip. Lotion was unfortunately still on his lap, so Gerard pulled away. “Lotion. Descendre de ses genoux.”

Lotion just looked at him, but stood up and jumped off of Frank. 

“What’d you tell him?” Frank asked. 

“Just to move.” Gerard took Lotion’s place on Frank’s lap. “Frankie…”

“You’re so pretty,” Frank murmured. He ran his hands up Gerard’s arms. “Fucking beautiful.”

Gerard blushed. “Merci. I am.” He blushed again. “I am not ready for sex.”

“That’s okay, Gerard, that’s okay. We can just make out and eat pie.”

Gerard smiled. “Sounds good. That should be cool by now, right?”

“Yeah, let’s go check it.”

They stood up to go get the pie. Frank cut it and served them each a piece. He watched as Gerard took a bite and his eyes lit up. “Wow. ”

“Good?”

“It’s delicious!” Gerard took another bite. “You’ll have to give me the recipe, this will sell like crazy.”

“I’d be happy to. I have to get it from my mom, though, it’s just muscle memory at this point.”

Gerard nodded. “That’s fine. I can wait.”

“Well, we have a whole pie, and a whole night ahead of us…” Frank raised his eyebrows. 

Gerard led him back over to the couch. “This will be gone before morning.”

*

Frank ended up going home around ten o’clock, stuffed full with pie. He felt fucking awful, but it was so worth it. 

He stripped, then threw himself into bed, groaning. Too much food, way too much food.

But it had been so worth it for the look on Gerard’s face. He’d been so excited about the pie. 

And about Frank…

*

Frank walked to the bakery after work. The band finished recording the album, finally finished and satisfied with the music. So Frank was treating himself. 

Gerard had a short line of people buying bread and pastries. He smiled at Frank, but remained focused on his customers.

When Frank finally got to the front of the line, he leaned on the counter and smiled. “Hey, could I get a kiss from a cute guy with white hair?”

“Oui, I think that can be arranged.” Gerard smiled and kissed him. Then kissed him again. “I can’t get enough of your mouth, Frankie.”

“Kiss me like you mean it then,” Frank said against his mouth. Gerard did, locking their lips together and cupping Frank’s face. 

They pulled away after a few minutes. Gerard had another customer, so he pulled Frank back behind the counter while he packaged a few eclairs in a box. 

Gerard turned back to Frank. “Would you like something?”

“I was actually coming to ask if you wanted to have dinner with me.”

“I’d love to.” Gerard smiled. “Going somewhere?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go to my place. I love cooking, and I’ve been to your place, so…”

“That sounds wonderful. I have an hour left on the clock, but text me your address, and I’ll be over soon.”

“Sure.” Frank leaned up to kiss him. “See you soon.”

Gerard waved him out. 

Frank walked home, wondering what to make. He thought about soup, but maybe that wouldn’t be filling enough? But what else could he make? He didn’t have any pasta, he’d have to buy that, so he couldn’t make anything like spaghetti. What did French people even eat for dinner?

He sighed and decided on soup and salad. He took a shower first, then started cooking. While he was waiting for the soup to be done, he texted Gerard his address. 

Gerard came over about five minutes after dinner was done. He was wearing different clothes, and certainly not an apron. He also had a box. “Hi. I brought dessert.”

“You’re the best human.” Frank led him in. “So, I don’t actually have a table, but we can eat at the counter or on my couch or something.”

“Whatever is fine.” Gerard smiled and placed the box down on Frank’s counter, which had a few stools lined up. 

“What did you bring?” Frank asked, picking up the salad bowl. 

“I can’t remember the name in English, but they’re called éclairs. I saw you looking at them earlier.”

“Oh, those are just called eclairs. With a strong E.”

Gerard said it a few times, then nodded. “That’s logical.”

“Uh, I made soup and salad for dinner, if that’s not enough I can make something else-”

“That’s fine, Frank. I barely eat.” Gerard smiled. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! Don’t worry about it.” 

Frank brought two bowls of soup over, and then a plate for each of them to have their salad on. “I put just, like, tomatoes and some carrots and stuff in the salad, but I can put some more in, if you want.”

“Frank. Please stop worrying. I’m not hard to please.”

They both jumped at a sudden loud crack of thunder. Frank ran to close his window as it suddenly started pouring. “Shit, was it supposed to rain?”

“Mhm, yeah, Paris has had droughts for a long time. Everyone was excited about it, but there might be flooding.”

“Shit, do you wanna go home to make sure your cats would be okay?”

“Actually, that’s probably a good idea.” Gerard bit his lip. “I feel bad ruining the date, do you want to come with me? We can eat there, if you’d like.”

“Sure.” Frank smiled. “Let me grab my umbrella.”

They hurried back to Gerard’s apartment. Water was already starting to collect in the streets, but thankfully nothing was too high up yet. Gerard said something in French (Frank assumed a swear) when he realized that he left his windows open. 

They walked into the bakery quickly. Gerard locked the door behind them and grabbed a cloth from the counter. He stuffed it under the door, then led Frank upstairs. 

“Lotion? Mitch? Maman est ici!” Gerard called. 

“Did you just-” Frank started. 

“Call myself Mom? Oui.” Gerard placed the box he had brought over on his kitchen table. “One moment, uh, they’re probably scared…”

“Take your time.” Frank shook the water off his umbrella and leaned it against Gerard’s wall. 

Gerard disappeared down a hall. He came back holding two trembling cats. “Mes chers, il n'y a rien à craindre.”

“They look so scared,” Frank said softly. He scratched one of their chins. “Don’t be scared, ki- oh, actually, I know how to say cat. Don’t be scared, le chat.”

Gerard giggled. “You don’t usually call animals by their names. Chaton could be right, that’s kitten.”

“I use kitten as a pet name sometimes.”

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows. “You strike me as a dog person.”

“Oh! No, pet names for people. Romantic partners. Nicknames you call them, you know?”

“Oh, I understand. So...would you call me kitten? Or chaton?”

“Whatever you like.” Frank smiled softly. 

They didn’t end up eating dinner, just the eclairs Gerard had made. They were fucking incredible, and Gerard promised to teach Frank how to make them some day. They watched a movie, too, until Frank excused himself to use the bathroom. 

Gerard was frowning near a window when Frank came back out of the living room. 

“What’s the matter?” Frank asked. “You look upset.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to walk home in this.” Gerard gestured. “Pleuvoir comme vache qui pisse…”

“What? Did you just say something about piss?”

Gerard giggled. “Oui. It’s raining like a cow pissing.”

“Damn, we just say it’s raining cats and dogs.” Frank bit his lip and looked at the water collecting on the streets. 

“That doesn’t make much sense.” Gerard walked back toward the living room. “It’s seven already, I guess you should stay. I don’t want you to walk back in this.”

“No, it’s alright, I’ll be fine.”

“No, no, you can’t! You’ll get wet. You can stay here, I promise I won’t wake you in the morning.” Gerard pulled him over to the couch. “You can have my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t have to, Gee, it’s okay.”

“Gee.” Gerard smiled. “I do have to! I can’t make my guest sleep on the couch.”

“We could just…” Frank shrugged like his heart wasn’t beating a million miles an hour. “Share?”

Gerard raised an eyebrow. “My bed?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know you don’t want to have sex, but then neither of us have to sleep on the couch. And we’re obviously interested in each other, so sharing a bed wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Gerard nodded. “Alright, that sounds reasonable. I sleep with many pillows, I’ll warn you.”

“I can live with that.”

They made out for the better part of the evening, then watched another movie and went to bed. Gerard loaned Frank some pajamas. He was waiting in bed when Frank came out from the bathroom, typing something on his phone, but he turned it off when Frank emerged. 

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“Hey.” Frank smiled and climbed into bed with him. Gerard pulled the duvet up over them. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, Gee, really.”

“Well- I want it to mean something. ” Gerard tucked his shoulder up under a pillow and closed his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

“I like kissing you too,” Frank said softly. 

Gerard opened his eyes and leaned forward. Frank met him in the middle and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

*

Gerard wasn’t in bed when Frank woke up, which he wasn’t all that surprised about. He sat up and yawned, glancing over at where he’d left his phone the night before. Gerard had left a little note. 

Good morning! I’m downstairs, but probably not working. You can wear whatever from my closet if you’d like, and don’t fall for Mitch and Lotion- I already fed them (they will beg for food!!)

Frank laughed softly and got out of bed. He used the bathroom, then stole a hoodie from Gerard’s closet. It was big and warm and it smelled like him. 

Frank did like that Gerard was taller than him, even if he did seem like a softer person. He seemed like the kind of person to envelope you in warmth after a bad day. 

True to Gerard’s word, Mitch and Lotion both cried at Frank. He didn’t give in, just patted them both and went downstairs. 

Gerard was standing behind the counter, writing something with icing on a cake. He smiled over at Frank. “Good morning.”

“Hi.” Frank leaned against the counter he was using. “Watcha doing?”

“Decorating a-” Gerard frowned. “A cake. For someone’s day. I can’t remember what day.”

“Birthday?” Frank asked. 

“Yes! It’s anniversaire in French. Sometimes words are just too opposite.”

Frank nodded. “I do notice that you say things sometimes that don’t sound like a native speaker. You’re fluent in English, though, right?”

Gerard nodded. “Knowing two languages is hard.”

“Was it hard learning English?”

“Very. But very worth it, too.” Gerard winked at him. “Get me a box to put this in?” 

Frank found a box under the counter. Gerard slid all the pieces into place and carefully lifted the cake in. “She’ll be here to pick this up in an hour, so...I’ll leave it. Frankie! You’re a good chef. I have some bread I can’t sell, would you like to make us breakfast with it?”

“Sure. Uh, why can’t you sell it?”

“Oh, it just formed weird.” Gerard picked up a baguette from the counter. The end was a bit curved. “Nobody will want a curvy baguette.”

“It still looks pretty edible to me, but I’ll go raid your kitchen.”

“You’re the best.” Gerard handed him the baguette and kissed him. “I’ll be up in about an hour.”

“Kay.” Frank walked back upstairs. He made them some toast and eggs, which took the better part of an hour. He couldn’t figure out how to heat up the bread, so after a while he just decided to use the pan. Except the bread kept burning. 

Gerard came up right as Frank put their breakfast on the table. “It looks delicious.”

“Thanks. I used all the bread, sorry.”

Gerard laughed. “It’s alright. Eat, Frankie.”

They ate, talking occasionally, though it was mostly Gerard’s compliments. 

“It’s still raining,” Frank said after a while. 

Gerard nodded. “I had to close the bakery for it.”

“Really? So you’re free for the day?”

“I am. And, um.” Gerard blushed. “I think I am ready for sex.”

“Are you sure?” Frank asked, standing up. “We don’t have to do anything yet, you know, just because I’m here.”

“No, I’m sure. I’m just- I feel like I need it, and I really trust you. You’re an amazing person, Frank.” Gerard walked around the table to kiss him. 

Frank rested his hands on Gerard’s hips and pushed him against the table, sighing softly as their tongues slid together. Gerard grabbed a handful of his shirt and started pushing him back, down the hall and towards the bedroom. 

Frank pulled away when he awkwardly fell onto the bed. He felt lightheaded- Gerard kissed with such passion. 

“You like my sweater?” Gerard asked, sliding his hands up said sweater. 

Frank shivered under his touch. “Yeah, it smells like you.”

Gerard smirked. “Hot.”

They got the sweater off together, and then they both lost their shirts. Gerard was grinding on Frank’s lap a bit when he went for his jeans. 

“Gerard,” Frank said, stopping him. “Are you- do you- do you top?”

“Hm?” Gerard furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Do you, um, take or give?”

“Oh. I take, usually.”

“Okay. Good.” Frank unzipped his jeans. “‘Cause I don’t.”

Gerard finally looked down. He gasped softly when he saw Frank’s chest. “Your art...”

“My tattoos?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded. “You like them?”

“They’re beautiful.” Gerard traced the bomb on his chest. “Are they on your back too?”

“They’re everywhere.”

“Everywhere?” Gerard smiled teasingly. 

“My dick is the only place I don’t have tattooed.”

Gerard shuddered. “I wanna see them.”

“Okay.” Frank smiled and turned around when Gerard stood up. He could feel his soft hands on the pumpkin, trailing down and catching on the designs across his hips. Gerard traced the letters, then let his fingers linger on Frank’s tramp stamp. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. 

“You are too.” Frank turned back around. “You know…I was wondering if your hair was too short to pull.”

Gerard’s breath hitched. “I-I don’t think it is.”

“Let’s try it then, hm?” Frank leaned in again and brushed their lips together. Gerard whined when Frank’s fingers ran over his scalp and tried to find purchase in the short strands. He gathered a bit in his fist and pulled gently. 

Gerard gasped, hands flying to Frank’s waist. “Fuck me-”

Frank turned them around and unzipped Gerard’s jeans. He helped him get them off, then pushed him down onto the bed. 

Gerard bit his lip as he watched Frank get out of his own pair of jeans. “You’re so…”

“Hot?”

“Beautiful,” Gerard finished. His cheeks were flushed. 

Frank smiled and got his jeans down. “Thanks.”

He pulled his boxers off, too, then climbed on top of Gerard. They both groaned when their dicks slid together, although Gerard still had his boxers in the way. He was scrambling to get them down, though. 

“I have-” Gerard threw his boxers to the side. “What. I. Frank. I can’t remember the name.”

“Condoms?”

Gerard shook his head. “The other one.”

Frank hesitated. “Dental dams?”

Gerard huffed and sat up to crawl over to his drawer. He pulled out a bottle and a condom. 

“Oh, lube, ” Frank said. 

“Lube!” Gerard’s eyes lit up. “Yes!”

“Well then lay back and spread your legs, I have to prep you first.”

Gerard hummed and laid back on his pillow. He sighed softly when Frank ran his hand up his thigh. “It’s...it’s been a while.”

“Yeah? How long?”

“Maybe…” Gerard hissed when Frank slid his first finger in. “A year?”

“That’s unfortunate.” Frank watched his face carefully as he added his second finger. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay-” Gerard clutched the pillow. “I know it will feel good in a minute.”

Frank gently curled his fingers, brushing them over Gerard’s prostate. He tipped his head back and groaned. “Oh...Frankie…”

“You’re really so pretty.” Frank added his third finger and stretched them out. Gerard hissed. “Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

Gerard nodded, biting his lip. He tipped his head back again. “Okay...okay, good.”

Frank pulled his fingers out. He wiped his slippery fingers on the bed and picked up the condom Gerard had taken out, ripping it open and rolling it on. He coated himself in lube, groaning softly. Gerard stared up at him, lips slightly parted and eyes blown with lust. 

“Ready?” Frank asked. Gerard nodded, so he picked up his legs and wrapped them around his waist. Gerard smiled, but it quickly melted away and into a moan when Frank slid in. 

“Oh, fuck, you feel huge,” Gerard moaned. He closed his eyes. “Don’t stop…”

Frank started thrusting shallowly, tangling his fingers in Gerard’s hair. He tugged softly and buried his face in Gerard’s neck when he moaned. “You sound so pretty.”

“Ah…” Gerard dug his nails into Frank’s back. “More…”

“Say something in French,” Frank mumbled, kissing Gerard’s neck. “Please, fuck…”

“P-plus fort, Frankie, s’il te plaît!” Gerard moaned in Frank’s ear. “Mon Dieu, please, please-”

Frank had no idea what he was saying, but fuck if it didn’t sound hot. His hips snapped into Gerard’s tight heat. He felt him stiffen under him when his lips brushed against a spot just below his ear, so he kissed over it a few times before starting to suck. 

“Oh! Oui, juste là, fuck-” Gerard’s breath hitched. “Oh, fuck, j’aime ta bouche- don’t stop, Frankie!”

Frank moaned against Gerard’s neck. “You sound so- ah- so fucking hot, please tell me you’re close.”

Gerard nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. “So close...tirer mes cheveux, pull my hair, please!”

Frank tangled his fingers in Gerard’s hair again and yanked. Gerard’s whole body stiffened, only his thighs quivering as he came all over himself with a high pitched moan. He tightened around Frank, and fuck, he couldn’t deal with that. He moaned against Gerard’s neck as he came, then pulled out. 

Gerard reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand and wiped up his stomach. He sighed happily and looked up at Frank. “That was nice.”

Frank hummed in agreement. “Give me one sec.”

He went to the bathroom to throw the condom away, then flopped back into bed with Gerard, who promptly cuddled up into him. He tucked his chin into Frank’s shoulder and sighed softly. “I like cuddling.”

Frank rubbed his back. He had missed this, this domestic kind of thing that happened after sex. Cuddling naked was an intimate thing that he rarely got after one night stands. 

“Gee?” Frank dragged his nails gently over Gerard’s back, smiling at the quiet hum of acknowledgment he got from him. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Gerard hummed again. “Mm. I’d like that very much.” 

Frank leaned down to kiss him again. 

*

Frank stayed at Gerard’s house for another night, and then went home the next day so he could go to work. 

Work, of course, was great. The band was hyped up from the break they’d had over the weekend, so they were all energy. They worked straight through their lunch break, and they were able to finish up the album before the work day even properly ended. Frank refined it while they fine tuned some things, and then, eventually, the album was done. It didn’t even feel real. 

Frank had his phone on speaker while he made dinner, talking to his friend Jamia. “So we finished the album today, which is super fucking cool.”

“How’s it sound?” 

“Pretty good. I think. All the vocals are in French, so I had someone else work on those. Hey, did I tell you I got laid?”

“What! No! Tell me everything! Who was it?” Jamia was clearly way too excited about this. 

“It was this guy, from the bakery in my neighborhood. He’s super sweet, and I actually asked him to be my boyfriend yesterday. We were going to have dinner in my apartment, I cooked and everything, but it started pouring, so we went to his house to check on his cats and got flooded in. He kept the bakery closed the next day, and we had sex.”

“Is he hot?”

“He’s fucking gorgeous. And shit, he kept begging in French while I was fucking him, and I’ve literally never been so turned on. I didn’t know I had a thing for that?”

“Well, you’ve only fucked American guys,” Jamia said. “Foreign guys are a whole lot different.”

“I’m the foreign guy here, I live in France now.”

“Oh, true, true. Well, then, that’s probably a new experience for him, too. What’s his name?” 

“Gerard Way. He’s so adorable, fuck.” Frank sighed and turned the oven on low before he burned his pasta. “We haven’t really been on a real date though. I cooked him dinner, but it rained so we went back to his place, and we made a pie together, but like, still.”

“Have you done anything else?” Jamia asked. “Like, you’ve said that you liked him, right? You didn’t just fuck him the first night you met?”

“No, I’ve known him for...wow, like a few weeks now. I met him the day I moved here, I think. We went shopping together, but that was before...and I kissed him while we were watching a movie, and that was pretty much the start of it.”

“Okay, well, it sounds like you’re in a romance novel. Take him out to dinner, though, if he’s a baker he spends all day making food for people and he fucking deserves it.”

“I will. I just have to find good places to eat in France. I hate this.”

“Don’t hate it, you can get drunk in the streets! Take him to the Eiffel Tower or something.”

“Isn’t that a little touristy?” Frank poured his pasta into the sink to drain the water. “I mean, I’d love to go see it, but he’s lived in Paris his whole life.”

“Maybe he’ll take you if you ask him. There’s a restaurant in the Eiffel Tower, you know.”

“Full of tourists.”

“You’re just a glorified tourist, my dear Frank.”

“My passport says otherwise!” Frank laughed. “French fucking citizen, bitch.”

“Okay, no need to flex.” He could hear Jamia smiling. “I’m gonna come visit you in the spring, alright? And I wanna meet this Gerard. Y’all are taking me to the Eiffel Tower, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Frank poured his drained pasta into a bowl. “Alright, I’m having dinner, I’ll talk to you later, though.”

“Cool, cool. Bye!”

“Bye.” Frank smiled and hung up. He did really miss Jamia. 

He settled on the couch to eat his dinner, then aimlessly channel surfed until he found a nature documentary that looked vaguely interesting. 

After dinner, he went to bed and passed the fuck out. 

*

“Is the Eiffel Tower too tourist infested to go?” Frank asked. 

“Maybe. And get off my counter, I have bread to make.” Gerard smacked his shoulder. Frank hopped off the counter. “I could take you there, though, since tourists probably won’t go when it’s not sunny out.”

“You’re gonna make me climb a giant metal tower in the rain? Sounds safe.”

“Not in the rain. Just when it’s cloudy. You’re French now, you have to get used to the year-round weather. It’s like New York here. Winters are cold.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna make me go when it’s snowing.”

Gerard smiled and kissed him. “Your incessant jabbering is driving away my customers.”

“Babe, I’m gonna be honest with you, I’ve been speaking English my whole life and I’ve never heard those words.”

Gerard cupped his face. “You’re talking too much.”

Frank pouted. Gerard kissed him again. “So cute. Just be less talky and help me out.”

“Maybe you should get me a gag.”

“Tempting. But you know I’d be the one with a gag here.”

“Hmm, true. You would look pretty with something in your mouth.”

“Well, I’ll take that to heart next time you come over.”

Frank blanked. He shook his head and went to take some bread out of the oven that beeped. 

“Thank you for helping me,” Gerard said softly. “I didn’t realize how hard it was on my own until I took over.”

“Of course. Plus, it means I get to spend extra time with my boyfriend.” Frank kissed his cheek. “How long have you been on your own?”

“Oh...three or four years. My old boyfriend used to help me sometimes, but he cheated on me and decided that he liked her better.” Gerard’s mouth set in a firm line. “He moved out while I was sleeping.”

“Oh, shit, Gerard,” Frank said softly. He hugged him tightly and rubbed his back. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that to me, but I.” Gerard sniffed. “I just have a fear of cheating.”

“I totally understand.” Frank pulled away. “It’s okay, but I want you to know that you can trust me. I’d never break your heart like that.” 

“I know.” Gerard pressed their foreheads together. “We should go to dinner tonight.”

“Mm, we should, since it fucking finally stopped raining.” Frank glanced at the window. It was bright and sunny out. “Or maybe you could take me to the Eiffel Tower.”

“Some other day.” Gerard kissed the top of his head and brushed his hands on his apron. 

Frank caught his lips just as he tilted his head up. “You taste sweet. Like sugar.”

“That is my goal,” Gerard said. “Now shush, I have customers.”

Frank stayed quiet, watching Gerard work. 

Moving to France had really been the best decision he’d ever made.