Tango: It Ain't Me Babe (2P!France x Reader)

A/N: Please read the DESCRIPTION box! Thanks!

Tango[1]
Part 3: It Ain’t Me Babe[2]

Two weeks pass by and there was still no change between you and Francis. You didn’t even talk to him about that night deciding that you didn’t want him to step on your heart again.

Maybe you should give Lutz a call, it has been a while since you’ve seen or spoken to him and you didn’t have the nerve to call him either, his number was still in your underwear drawer for you didn’t dare punch it into your cell phone just yet.

Currently you were at the Bakery owned by Artie, Kaya had been there and you were seeking some advice from the slightly older woman.

“You look down what’s the matter sweet cheeks? The French bastard not giving it up?”

“Kaya!” you blush deeply.
 
“I’m right, aren’t I? Listen, I know frustration when I see it,” How does she know?

With a sigh you rub at your temples then look up at her, “I’ve tried everything! I’ve bought new outfits, cooked him his favorite dinner from scratch, I am literately throwing myself at him and nothing!” 
 
“How so?” You show Kaya a few of your outfits you took of yourself with your phone. She looks at them, then at you, then back at the pictures, “The man’s been playing you __________ and he’s got you in the palm of his hand for God knows how long. Just cut out the fucking middle man and go for the source head on!”

“What middle man? I don’t know what you—“

“What I mean is, no more going out on dates with Lutz and no more trying to make Franny jealous by you going out with Matt either. It doesn’t work and it looks kinda desperate going out with the man’s seventeen year old jailbait son.”

 You blush profusely at that. It was true you did go out with Matthew a couple of times to try and see if Francis would get jealous but he didn’t. He was actually indifferent about it, but either way you did have fun with Matthew and you got to know him a little more. You even found out that you both share a common like for the Cornetto Trilogy[3] and you have even started quoting bits of each movie; mostly Hot Fuzz.   

You sigh, “What should I do Kaya?” 
 
“First of all know your enemy, that Old Frog is a professional womanizing player who owns a brothel. He’s used to getting his own way with women. Your job is to show him that you will not throw yourself at him like them. So first things first, lose the ultra-erotic clothes and wear something casual yet sexy,” 
 
“Okay,”
 
“Second, there’s nothing sexier than a woman smelling good and a man knowing she’s not interested! Take a shower and walk about in a tasteful robe. It will drive him up a fuckin’ wall,” 
 
“Gotcha!”

“About the meals, don’t make his faves, make something GOOD. If you constantly make his fuckin’ favorites, he’ll KNOW you want him. So you make comfort foods and it’ll make him fall in love with more,”

“This is good…” you were mentally taking notes on this. 

“Now about Matt; be playful with him like you’re being nice and natural. Because you flirting with him make you look shamelessly desperate and it doesn’t look good. But to really milk it, make Matt’s favorites too and act friendly and casual with him but not with Francis. That way the Old Frog will get jealous and guarantee you, he’ll be putty in your hands,” 

“Wow… you have experience with this?” 
 
“I broke a few hearts in my day but I was a fuckin’ tease. No one had a chance but Artie and I didn’t have to try hard,” 
 
“How’d you seduce him?” Kaya blushed. 
 
“He seduced me…little freckled angel. I destroyed him that night but he was the assailant,”

 “But Artie is so… Artie!”

Kaya gives you a resentful look.

“What I mean is he doesn’t seem the type to seduce anyone because he’s so sweet and proper. Artie wouldn’t harm a fly! Though he would apologize for chasing it out of the house…”

Kaya smiles and pats your hand, “When it comes to Artie I never know what to expect, he can be sweet and so dastardly adorable or he can be so cruel but SO sexy,” she then shivers as if she were reminiscing something.

~*~

Now to get Matt out of the house… you work quickly while making one of his favorite dishes: poutine[4], which were natural cut French fries topped with cheese curds and gravy. Arthur was kind enough to mention it off hand while you were at the bakery and had also made a mention of where you could buy some already made cheese curds.

Matthew had been in his room until you were putting the final touches on the fries and he had a look as though he were overcome by some higher power; his eyes locking in on the mouthwatering plate.

“I need you to stay over Artie’s tonight,” you say to Matthew the moment the young man sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You were just pouring the gravy over the fries and the cheese before you slide the plate over to him and you open up a bottle of Coke for him to drink.

“Bribing me with food?” he asks, his attention to the poutine set in front of him and you watch as he grabs his fork, “Cheap shot,” he mutters then chows down looking as though he bit into a piece of heaven, “Fuck you know how to make it so good…” he sighs, his eyes closed in bliss before going back to devouring the rest of the fries.

“Matt? Do you mind staying over Artie’s tonight?” you sit down adjacent to him and watch with delight how quickly he eats the food you made for him.

“You’re gonna fuck my old man aren’t you?” he asks, though he looks at you as if he already knows your answer by the manner of how he was looking at you now.

“W-w-what?! No! That’s not what this is all about!” you blush hotly and Matt only smiles lopsidedly at you then wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Yes you are, don’t fucking lie to me you pervert.”

“Pervert! I am not a pervert!”

“Tch, Geezer pleaser.” He clicks his tongue and looks away from you.

“MATTHEW!”

“Wha?” he asks and licks a bit of gravy off his finger.

“I just want to have a nice romantic dinner with your dad, that’s all.”

Matthew gives you a look then shrugs and he takes his bag and Hockey stick with him as he stood up from his seat at the kitchen table, the fries now gone, “Just don’t fuck in my room, I don’t need that shit. Al gets enough of that from his own house the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me. See you tomorrow.”

And just like that, Matthew leaves.

At least the hard part was over or was that the easy part? You shake your head and you decide not to linger about it too much while you get ready for the next step of your plan: dinner. You decide on making duck a l'orange, fondant potatoes and steamed brocolini, you also made chocolate soufflé[5] for dessert as well as whipped cream from scratch.  

Once everything was done and the soufflés were cooling on a rack in the kitchen you quickly set the table. Proud of your work you take a quick shower and change into something comfortable but still appealing and tasteful to the eye[6]. 

Earlier after returning from the Bakery and just before you fed Matthew, you had taken out the good china, the one with blue flowers with gold trim at the edge, well as the the crystal glasses. You gave those a good polish which they now gleam under the candlelight. You finish up by serving the wonderful dinner spread of tonight’s dinner in the serving dishes, the French rolls in a basket, and the bottle of red wine. Now the only thing you have to do was to wait for Francis to come home.

While waiting, you decide to open the bottle of wine you got from down in the cellar, you allow it to air out before pouring one glass follow by another.

Thirty minutes later you hear the jingle of keys as well as the opening and closing of the front door. You hear the sound of Francis’s shoes clopping on the hardwood floor until he enters the dining room and sees the spread before him. You greet him with a smile.

“What’s this?”

“I thought we could have a nice quiet dinner at home.” You say and you hand him a glass of wine which he looks at skeptically.

“Where’s Mathieu?”

“Over Artie’s and Kaya’s, he’s spending the night there.”

You look to Francis’s face and you could see how livid his expression became, “Is something wrong, you look worried.” you ask, hoping that he wasn’t upset.

“Non, non…” he snaps out of his trance and smells the wine, did he think you poison the wine? Nonsense…

Taking your own glass of wine you hold it up to him with a small smile, “What shall we toast to?”

“To health and new beginnings?” he suggests, it sounded like a good thing to toast to.

You smile kindly and nod, “'To health and new beginnings', I’ll drink to that!” You then take a sip of the wine from your glass, not noticing how Francis was watching you suspiciously before taking a drink himself.

“Come, sit and please dig in, there’s no sense in letting it get cold,” you say as you started with the vegetables, the potato then finally the main dish itself, “save room for dessert, I made mini chocolate soufflés.

You begin to eat in silence, until Francis takes a sip of wine and you can hear him sigh which catches your attention.

“Are you okay? You don’t like the food? I can make you something else if you like we have plenty leftov—“

“Quiet, woman,” he says dismissively and you huff at his rudeness and you return to your own plate when he spoke again, “It’s only that I haven’t had a meal this delicious since they changed Chefs at my favorite restaurant.

“You mean at the Bistro we went to? I thought the food was amazing! Not like dad’s but it was borderline.” 

“I was actually referring to Tavern, your father was best Chef they ever had until he got sick and then the food never tasted the same. However now that you made this wonderful dinner it was as though a bit of him was here tonight.”

“You—what?”

“What other place do you think I was referring to? It was one of my favorite places to dine; I still remember when you use to wait tables there.”

You stare wide eyed at him, your face now hot and it was not because of the wine either. He was—and you were—how is that poss—you then see a genuine smile lifting at the corners of his lips.

“What? You didn’t think I wouldn’t remember you? I was there almost all the time. I at least thought you would have remembered me,” he then takes his wine glass and takes a sip of his drink.

“Now that I think about it, I have no idea why I didn’t make the connection sooner,” you say mostly to yourself and you suddenly feel awful for trying to seduce him and then you started to understand as to why he would never see you as a woman.

“The first moment I saw you[7] I had wondered why you had looked so familiar and then as we began to talk and you mentioned that your father was the Chef at Tavern then I knew for sure that it was you. That you were that same sweet girl I used to see greeting and serving everyone with your kind smile and polite nod of the head. Your cooking only further peaked my interest and then I knew that you were your father’s daughter, alright.”

“So that’s why you never--?”

“Can you blame me, cher? I still see you as that child of seventeen who used to mop the floors and beg her father to teach her now to make chocolate soufflé.”

“That was almost thirteen years ago,” you say into your plate as a feeling of renunciation fills your chest when you get up and you begin to clean, “Forgive me sir for taking up so much of your time.”

You had never felt so embarrassed in your entire life; you were so angry and frustrated that you had begun to cry. You then feel his hand on your face and Francis turns you to look at him. Silently he wipes your tear away with his thumbs and fingers and he was about to say something when you stopped him by placing up a hand between you.

“You don’t need to say anything else,” you smile at him, though it was a polite smile to reassure him that you would be okay only that you needed to be alone at the moment, “I finally get it and I will not approach you like this again.”

“You’re upset.”

Thank you Captain Obvious.

“I just need a moment, let’s not ruin this night. Why don’t you go into the living room and pick a movie, I’ll be out in a moment, I just want to clean and put the food away, okay?” you can feel your heart breaking with every word you say to him, the smile never once leaving your face.

“I will take you at your word, cher,” he says softly, his thumb caressing over your cheek once more until he pulls away and exits the kitchen.

You breathed out a lungful of air you didn’t know you were holding in and you bow your head over then kitchen sink as more silent tears track down your face. You felt so stupid thinking that a man like Francis would ever look twice at you how could he? Especially now that you know the truth about him and his past connection to you and your family.

Which was another thing; you always did wonder as to why your mother had that sudden change of heart during the move, she knew Francis too! And she knew you would be okay to live with him because she knew that he would never make a pass at you and that in some way he would take care of you!

Stupid. This whole thing was so stupid! You were currently holding a glass which slips out of your hand and breaks in the sink, “DAMN IT!” you yell and you carefully pick the shards of glass out before gathering them on a paper towel and you dump the lot in the trash bin.

You finally wash and put everything away then you walk into the living room to see Francis on the couch with a DVD of “Pretty Woman” on the coffee table, “I thought you hated this movie,” you say and sit next to him, your feet prop up on the edge of the coffee table.

“And I thought you liked it,” he retorts and lights a cigarette then pushes the play button on the remote. Francis then rests an arm behind your hand, just over the edge of the couch; it made you slightly uncomfortable as if he were trying to wrap his arm around you. 

What was that all about? Was this some sort of trick? Was he teasing you? The bastard had some nerve; it was enough to make you angry.

You felt him looking at you at some points during the movie, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back at him, this was all a trick it had to be.

“He’s been playing you since God knows when!” you hear Kaya’s voice echo in your head and it only further fuels your anger.

Finally the movie was over and you get up from your seat you look over at Francis and give him a curt nod of your head, “Thank you for your company tonight Francis, I hope you have a good rest of the evening, good night.”

 “It’s still early, and Mathieu is not at home, wouldn’t you rather go out tonight?”

You look at him oddly for a moment then you shake your head, “No thank you, I’m pretty tired and I have to wake up early tomorrow and prepare the breakfast and get started on the garden, I was thinking of planting roses.” You then start to walk up the stairs when you feel a hand grab at your wrist and you look to see Francis staring at you.

“__________?”

“Yes, Mr. Bonnefoy?”

When you address him so formally you could see a troubled look in his eyes, almost resigned, “Never mind, bonne nuit,”

“Good night.” You say again and you start up the stairs while heading toward your room.

So this was it, back to business as usual.

That’s all it will ever be.
…