I've been really lazy with the last all chapters, le~ Also my friend fallleavesforever helped me write a lot of this short story so if you want her to continue any parts please tell me ^~^
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Cup-
It had most definitely been a long day. François leans his recliner back after sitting down in it. Lightning a cigarette and bringing it close to his mouth, he took a puff, and blew out a cloud of white smog.
"Oh Franny~! You're finally home." A voice called from the kitchen.
François grunted from his spot in the old but comfortable chair.
"Yes, what is it you have for me now, Oliver?" He called out, feeling just as tired as he always is. His 'work' today had been extra annoying, even more so with Allen running around, messing with everything throughout the day.
"I made you some cuppycakes!" Oliver said, bouncing into the room with a tray of his beautiful and professional home-made, deadly delicacies.
Sighing loudly, François put out his cancer stick in the small ash tray next to him and inclined back up the chair in which he sat to see his girly boyfriend sitting up. Said boyfriend looks at the lethal tobacco with a slight twisted face.
Putting his chin on the backside of his left hand and his elbow resting on the armrest he responds. "What flavours are in them this time?" He asks, hoping it was a none-poisoned one.
Oliver instantly brightens up. "Your favourite! Blue berry and scorched prostitutes with faint lemon frosting." He comes closer, putting the tray within François' reach.
~
Sex-
François was working in his office, typing away on his laptop hoping that he could finish his email and send it to Matt on who to target next.
Oliver was in the kitchen, writing down ideas for recipes and growing border by the second. He looked around the still room, looking for something to do. He eyed François' office door and sneakily smiles to himself.
Oliver walked to the door and lightly tapped on it, opening it quietly and spying in on François, who was busy looking at his computer screen with a face of determination and tiredness.
Oliver walked up behind him and with a pout started whining. "Franny~ You've been on that computer all afternoon! Poppet, don't you think it's time to get off it?"
François sighed and rubbed his watery eyes. "I just need to finish this up. It'll be done in a few minutes." He looks over to the grandfather clock that was on the other side of the room, seeing the time was indeed almost evening.
Oliver pouted again. He moved next to François and saved the letter before closing the laptop. "You've been cooped up in here all day. Come on, Franny~; let's go out." Oliver looked at François' near annoyed expression and pouted again. "Please~?"
François sighed and stood up. "Fine fine, let's go."
Oliver smiled and ran out of the room to get ready. He had a special place in mind to take François.
When Oliver was ready, he and François left the home and walked to their car. François got behind the wheel and Oliver sat shotgun, figuring it'd be easier to give directions from there.
Thirty or so minutes later, the car stopped in front of a weird looking store, the windows blacked out and the sign blinking.
François eyed the building oddly but followed Oliver's skipping figure into the strange store.
"What is this store, Oliver?" François asked, sighing to himself at Oliver's excited but sneaky expression.
Oliver merely smiled wider and grips François' hand, leading him into the store happily. "I love this store~ Will you buy me something from it?" Oliver looked at François with exaggerated, begging eyes.
François sighed and nodded. "Fine, fine..."
But as he looked around the store his fairly tired expression morphed into a surprised one.
"...Oliver?"
"Yes, Poppet~?"
"... Why're we in a fucking sex shop?"
~
Grocery-
"Come on, Franny! You're so slow." Oliver whined to his lethargic boyfriend, who was trailing many steps behind him.
"You're the one who dragged me out of my office again just to go to the store. Why the fuck are we here anyways?" François was grumpy; he'd been working decently fast, considering how tired he was, and now he was away from his laptop, unable to deliver his memo. Needless to say he was annoyed.
Oliver pouted, thoroughly upset in François' cursing. "We just need a few things, Franny... I'd appreciate it if you could help me pick out ingredients for my pastries." Oliver kept the pout subtle but noticeable, knowing François had a soft spot for him and that was the only reason he didn't get beat.
François sighed, noticing the pout, and quickened his pace a little. He slung an arm across Oliver's small shoulders, causing a slight blush on Oliver's face. "Let's go then."
Oliver nodded happily and leaned into François' warmth. They were still in the parking lot and the weather was chilly, and Oliver was regretting the choice to wear one of his girlier tops today. A tank top since it had been warm as of late. The two walked into the supermarket, Oliver immediately looking for his favourite section.
"Franny, let's go~!" Oliver took François' hand and dragged him to sections. Oliver grabbed giant bags of flour and sugar and big boxes of baking soda and baking powder. François grunted softly at each addition to the basket in his arms.
After making sure he had enough vanilla, icing, and sprinkles, Oliver pulled François to a different section.
"What's next, Oliver? I have work to do when we get home..." François grumbled softly and tried to shift the objects in his arms.
~
New-
"Oliver." Shink-
"Oliver-" Slice-
"Oliver--" Stab.
"Goddamn, Oliver leave the poor corpse alone." A huff came from the crazed blue eyed, swirled with pink, man.
"Let's get going; I have work to do and you have deserts to bake, baby." Oliver blushed a little since François only called him that on very special occasions. Still he looked down on his dead victim with a small pout. "But I'm not done with her." He whined loudly.
François sighed. "We can take her back? You could continue on them at home." The strawberry blond looked up at him and smiled wide and eerily. "Kay, Franny~!" He said joyously.
François walks away from the building wall where he had leaned on and picked up the bloodied girl that faced a horrific death. Oliver hops up onto his feet and fixes his vest covered in deep red following behind his hubby. They walk quietly to a black car.
