ONE: Vanilla on My Hands

21: I Don't Think That's in My Paygrade

A month later

Frank examined himself in the reflection of the front glass doors of his office building, looking at his outfit, biting on his lip. He had been informed yesterday that the office was now implementing a 'Casual Fridays' thing to which Frank was grateful. But he still didn't feel comfortable going to work in his Metallica t-shirt and his ripped jeans. He had decided to rope Jamia in on that Friday morning and get her to help him out and, so far, he was impressed with her handiwork. Frank looked down at his black boots, his tight black jeans, and his white button-up that was tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to boot. She had topped the entire thing off with a pair of black pinstripe suspenders slung over his shoulders. He tugged at his fringe, fixing it up a bit as it stuck out from under the black beanie that Jamia had popped on his head. His reflection was dimmed behind the black sunglasses, but he hoped he didn't look like shit.

He sucked in a breath, clutching his work satchel in one hand and a tall coffee in the other. He looked down at the coffee for a moment and pushed the front doors open, walking in rather confidently despite it being a total façade. He smiled at Hayley politely before walking into the offices, setting his satchel down on his work chair along with his glasses. He strode into Gerard's office, his heart suddenly racing a mile a minute in his chest.

Over the past month, Frank had come to realize his tiny spark of giddiness had turned into a disgusting, fully-fledged crush on his boss. Every time he caught sight of Gerard, his heart would pick up, a static would rush in his ears and his one leg would start to shake as the other remained stock-still. He clenched the coffee cup in his hand as he stood unawares in the doorway of Gerard's office, looking him over. His boss was on the phone, frowning as he listened to whoever was on the line. He was dressed in a plain and semi-unbuttoned black shirt with the sleeves up, his hair more tousled than usual. Frank couldn't see the rest of the outfit but he had no doubt it was absolutely gorgeous.

"Oh, non c'est parfait, monsieur Durand." Gerard smiled as he nodded, "Je vois suis vraiment reconnaissant don généreux."

["Oh, no. That's perfect, Mr. Durand."]["I really appreciate your generous donation."]

Frank stared at Gerard for a moment, not able to comprehend what was actually happening, that somehow- Much to Frank's chagrin- Gerard had now become infinitesimally more attractive. He was speaking another language, a language Frank figured was French, and from the way it merely rolled off his tongue, Frank knew that Gerard was almost fluent. He stepped slightly further into the office and pursed his lips as he stood there awkwardly, waiting for Gerard to notice him. Which the latter immediately did, giving Frank a once over, gesturing with his finger for Frank to come over.

"J'attendre ton appel demain, Monsieur Durand." He smiled, nodding as he ran a poised hand through his fiery hair, "Pas grave, oui. Je comprend. Merci encore. Au revoir et amuse-toi bein voyage à Vale." Gerard hung up the phone then, steepling his fingers as he looked at Frank once more. Gerard's eyes taking a slow and timely rake over Frank's body before an eyebrow rose.

["I await your call tomorrow, Mr. Durand."]["Okay, yes. I understand. And thank you again. Goodbye and enjoy your trip to Vale."]

"What?" Frank looked down at himself and up again, "Is it alright?"

"Now why couldn't you have come to work like this from the interim?" Gerard pressed his lips against his fingers as he looked Frank up and down, "Very smart."

"I-" Frank felt his cheeks go bright pink, "This wasn't my doing. I wish it was."

"Who, then?"

"Jamia." Frank admitted, smiling slightly, "I wanted to come to work in my jeans and a t-shirt but she wouldn't hear it."