François was never really a good cook. Mostly because he doesn't try. He rarely cooked and that was if he was absolutely starving. Even then he would usually order pizza or get some take out. It was unhealthy but it was food at least in the Frenchman's mind. François was sure that since he couldn't cook, he was sure as hell knew that he couldn't bake. It was more complicated and complex. Two things that he didn't like. But he was sure as hell was going to try though. Even if he was going to fail miserably.
The Frenchman was lazily searching through the cabinets and cupboards, looking for what he needed to make a cake. Not just any ordinary cake but a birthday cake. And not just an ordinary birthday cake but a fabulous birthday cake. Or at least he would try it fabulous.
Francoise let out a stream of smoke, grunting as he pulled a silver mixing bowl from the cupboard. It was most likely something Oliver had gotten you at some point since you both loved to name. He looked at his reflection on the bowl, wondering why he didn't think about buying it for you. This made a sour expression twist on his face, knowing that he wasn't a really thoughtful boyfriend. And he was also positive that he wasn't handsome.
His dirty blonde hair was like rat tails, pulled back in a messy ponytail with a few stubborn strands falling in his dark violet orbs. Dark, nasty bags under his eyes that competed with the growing wrinkles on his face. He blew out another stream of smoke, smacking the image off the pan.
"This should be a good baking pan." He grumbled with a shrug, guessing that the bowl was using for baking the batter. He sat it aside before continuing to search for the things he needed. Or rather what he thought he needed. He didn't know what he needed exactly, he was just shooting in the dark and hoped he was right about most of it.
About an hour later François had what he needed, or what he thought that he needed. He had about six mixing bowls, a dozen measuring spoons, a couple of table spoons, three dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a half gallon of milk, vegetable oil, a box of cake mix, and some (f/c) icing. Yep, that looked about right. François snuffed out his cigarette merely to start another, throwing the cigarette butt over his shoulder.
"Time to get to work." He sighed, looking at the time. He had two hours to bake the cake and everything before you got home from work. He also had to wrap your present that he seemingly forgot where he had put it so he had to find it. Hopefully that was enough time.
François pulled his hair out of its halfass ponytail, letting his hair fall. He grunted, getting a large waft of old cigarettes, a smell he despised though the whole house reeked of it. It wasn't down long before he put it back up again, hating that his hair tickled his neck.
François then set his mind on doing nothing but the cake that needed to be done soon. It was already four and you would be home by six so it needed to be done quick. But he didn't know what to do first besides the cake batter, so that's what he was going to do. He began to measure, pour, mix, and add stuff into a large bowl until he thought he had enough. The bowl was nearly filled to the brim, making it impossible to properly mix everything together.
But François was able to do it somehow, only spilling some of it. As he mixed, the once yellow cake powder was a dark, sickly green. It looked rather disgusting...
François didn't put much thought into it and began pouring the odd green colored liquid into a baking pan. Not only was it a dark green color, it also smelled weird. François hummed, shrugging before continuing to fill the cake pan. He filled it full, not knowing that it would expand when it was added to the oven.
François sighed softly, craving another cigarette, before moving to put the cake in the oven. He hadn't preheated it yet, but did that really matter? He cranked it to 375°F. Yeah, that sounded good. He set the time for an hour to give it enough time to bake. And with that, François went off to take a nap before you got home.
Hopefully you would enjoy the cake and the present he had bought for you. You were always kind of hard to please, even if it was something as easy as choosing dinner. And he knew that making you happy on your birthday was going to be even harder.
The Frenchman sat in his ratty but comfortable lazyboy chair, sighing in relief as his body slowly sunk into the cushions. He sucked on his cigarette as he slowly fell asleep. The cigarette slipping from his fingers, plopping and dying out on the carpet. A small smile stretched across François' face as he dreamed about giving you your present, and the three lettered word he hoped you'd say.
~~~~~
You sniffled and hiccupped softly as you drove home, the sky slowly turning black with storm clouds. Your eyes and cheeks hurt from how much you had cried, making you flinch whenever you whipped some tears away. Your hair was disheveled, annoying strands sticking to your skin.
Today was not a happy birthday. It was an absolutely terrible birthday. First off, you were late for work because you accidentally slept over. You were nagged on all day by your boss and coworkers. '_____, do this. _____, do that. Do it faster. Hurry up. Took you long enough.' Arrrgh!!! It frustrated you so much!
Now you don't have to worry about those people. You were fired. On your birthday. Just great... You and François were already having struggles with money, hence the reason you didn't hound him about taking you out for your birthday. He would certainly be pissed about you losing your job. And it seemed like he didn't really notice that your birthday was coming up in the last few weeks so...
You sighed softly as you turned into the driveway, parking and locking the car door. You shoved the key in your pocket, hanging your head as you walked to the front door. Your mind was thinking about all the negative outcomes of telling François. Each thought making your heart race faster.
You took a deep breath, trying your best to calm down. François could always tell when you were upset and you didn't want him asking what was wrong. Though he kept saying that he didn't really care. He actually cared. You slowly opened the front door, entering the house.
"François? I'm ho-!?"
You were silenced quickly by a hard, suffocating hug. You gasped and squirmed, trying to get free but it was no use. Your eyes were wide with bewilderment, quickly looking around for an answer.
You slowly started to hug back, your heart trying to run away. You buried your face in your attackers chest, talking in the scent of cigarettes and cheap wine. You couldn't help but smile.
"François." You hummed softly, nuzzling him while sighing. "You scared me..." You mumbled, feeling his cold hand slowly and gently rub your back. You heard his grunt.
"Sorry... I just didn't want you to see your surprise..." He said, his breath tickling your neck. You shivered, nodding a little in understanding. You couldn't help but smile. He actually remembered.
"Close your eyes." He ordered, pulling away from you a bit. You nodded and obeyed, closing your eyes tightly. "And don't peek..." He grumbled before walking away, you only knowing this by the soft squeak of the floorboards.
You waited for about ten minutes, hearing François alternate between the living room and the dining room, bringing things in and setting them down. You sighed slightly with impatience, swaying back and forth. A frigid hand then grabbed yours, pulling you along to sit you on the couch.
"Alright, you can look..."
You opened your eyes to only gasp. In front of and around you were insane amounts of presents. There was about four dozen bouquets of red, white, pink and yellows roses, two body sized teddy bears, a few bottles of expensive cologne, three artist art kits, a large basket filled with your favorite candy, and a few character plushies from (f/anime).
You squealed happily as you looked around like a child, not be living your eyes. François slowly sat down beside you, lighting a cigarette. He puffed on it while leaning back, slowly looking at you.
"... Are you happy?" He asked, cocking a brow. You smiled and nodded, looking at everything again.
"This is just... Wow... Thank you, François... Thank you so much... I thought you'd forgotten since you hadn't say anything. But I bit my tongue, knowing you've had things going on... And... I'm just really happy..." You smiled softly, leaning into your boyfriend. You sighed softly, closing your eyes.
François gently ran his fingers through your hair, humming softly as he finished off his cigarette. He leaned forward, throwing the butt into an ashtray. "Let me get the food." He said before getting up and disappearing in the kitchen.
You sighed as you sat up, looking at a bouquet of the roses in front of you. You smiled and looked at them, only to realize they were fake. You frowned but didn't question it. That's when you noticed a note tied to a stem, François' scratchy yet careful writing on it. You grabbed the rose and pulled it out, looking at the note.
There was a light ting as something fell out of the else, making you jump. You looked down to see what it was to find a silver ring. You titled your head, confused. You turned to the note for answers.
'I will love you until the very last rose dies. Fortunately, all these roses will never die. Just like my love for you. You know I'm not good at this romantic stuff but I think you said you liked that about me. _____, you've always made me so happy. So, so happy. That's why, I want to stay with you, forever. _____, will you-!'
"Marry me?" François' voice interrupted, making you jump with a gasp. You looked up with wide eyes, seeing a very nervous Frenchman.
He was holding a (f/c) frosted cake in one hand, and balancing two pizza boxes in the other. He slowly sat the things down and looked at you, uncertainty in his eyes.
He was surprised when you jumped and wrapped your arms around him, kissing him hard. He quickly caught himself so that he didn't fall and hurt both of you. He smiled and kissed back, his hand firmly on the back of your head. He didn't need to be told that three lettered word. Yes.
"Happy birthday, _____."
~~~~~
François hummed softly as he watched television, snuffing out his cigarette. He looked down at your sleeping figure, cracking a small smile. He gently ran his fingers through your hair, grunting when you shifted slightly.
He was glad he was able make your day better. He was a little upset about you being fire. But it was more that he was upset about how you were treated, rather than you being fired. He knew you could easily find another job around town in the shops and such. Hopefully you would take the open space at the hair salon that he worked at.
François watched the rest of the movie before turning the TV off, moving around to find a comfortable position on the couch. He really didn't want to get up and carry you to bed. He closed his eyes. He couldn't wait until the wedding day.
But before that. He needed to hide the bills for the presents, cake, and ring. And next time. He was going to make Oliver bake the damn cake. Damn you are hard to please. But it's all worth seeing you smile.