3. Frankie #4
Frankie managed to find a food delivery job, which gave him ample opportunity to try coffees all over town.
At first, he only ordered from cafes and bakeries, but slowly he began to branch out and order coffees at the international restaurants he delivered food from.
He quickly realized his love of studying other languages, cultures, and religions translated into a love of multicultural food and drink.
Anytime he sampled a particularly delicious dish, he would grab takeout there the next time he and Diego had a brainstorming night, which had begun happening at least once a week, if not more.
At first, Seth would make himself scarce on nights he knew Diego was coming over so they could have “alone time.” Frankie informed him, rather sadly, that he was just a friend, his very best friend, but just a friend, so Seth began to stay in and hang out with them, sometimes joined by Obie.
Naturally, Obie and Diego hit it off immediately, something about their growly sides recognizing kin. Frankie obviously did not say this out loud, but he privately shared it with Seth later and they shared a good laugh at the others’ expense.
As summer turned into fall, Obie and Diego began discussing real estate and some of the more 501 and 601 level business topics Frankie didn’t know so well.
When these conversations started, he and Seth would go and cook dinner for the four of them.
Frankie found he liked cooking well enough, but he loved to bake.
He began bringing home pastries one at a time, spending weeks perfecting a copycat recipe or sometimes a copy-with-a-twist recipe.
His absolute favorite was a guava pastry called pastelitos de guayaba, which originated in Cuba.
The reason they were his favorite had nothing to do with the fact that Diego got a soft look on his face every time he ate them. Absolutely nothing.
Another reason he found he loved baking, and spending time with Seth in the kitchen (while the other two men poured over documents and business plans at the table) was that he could almost pretend they were on a double date.
He knew this was a pipe dream, though. While Diego had come out to Frankie as gay almost two years prior in the back of their classroom, one night earlier in the summer, Diego had also come out to Frankie as demisexual.
He described it as needing to feel safe with a person before he could feel true attraction for them.
Frankie figured he hadn’t made the cut… yet.
An unfortunate side effect of Obie and Diego becoming best-business-buddies was that Obie became increasingly growly every time Frankie brought home a hookup.
At first, Frankie wasn’t sure what the problem was since he was having his visitors change into one of the three mumus he kept by the door, and he often sent home with them after their fun.
One morning, after he’d had a particularly loud guy over the night before, Obie stomped into the kitchen and said, “Is Diego not good enough for you or something?”
Seth had scurried out of the bedroom and apologized for Obie’s bluntness, but Frankie had sort of appreciated Obie’s loyalty and thought it warranted an honest response.
“If Diego gave even the tiniest hint that he wanted me, I would drop every single one of these losers – no wait, they’re actually all really nice people.
What I mean is, I would stop hooking up, cold turkey, immediately, right that very moment.
But, he doesn’t. I know he hooked up with a few people while I was gone, and he could still be hooking up with people I don’t know about, so I’m not going to pine over him. I just… I can’t.”
That had been a really hard pill to swallow when, a few nights after he’d come out as demi, Diego admitted he’d slept with two separate men, multiple times, while Frankie had been in Europe.
Frankie didn’t know either of them, but apparently they’d been in Diego’s classes and he’d formed pretty strong bonds with both.
Frankie had never wanted to keep count of his own lovers. He’d always found keeping track reduced them from a person to a number and implied either a positive “nice job bro, high-five” sort of mentality, or an equally problematic slut shaming one.
Instead, he liked to catalog different positions he’d tried, things he wanted to do again, and things he’d done the one time and never needed to repeat. Among the latter included absolutely anything to do with food, sex on a Ferris wheel and, quite sadly, the mile high club.
Even still, he could estimate his number was probably closer to two hundred , so he knew he had no right to be jealous of Diego’s two lovers, but the fact he’d seen them multiple times (for almost four months apparently) made Frankie’s chest ache.
He hadn’t had the courage to ask if there had been anyone else since he’d graduated, aka since Frankie had returned home.
After Frankie’s little outburst about Diego, Obie had gotten an uncharacteristically sympathetic look on his face. Thank god Seth had come to his rescue. Well… sort of.
“Are you ever going to introduce us to any of these lovely people you are bringing home then?” he asked as he slid gracefully into Obie’s lap.
Frankie hadn’t asked, because he didn’t care one way or another, but Obie had begun spending practically every night at their apartment starting in October. He wasn’t sure if that meant he’d taken on new work hours and had officially moved in, or was just trying to spend more time with his husband.
God. Husband. Frankie wanted that so bad.
He’d sort of always wanted it, but never been able to admit it to himself.
He’d had a three-year relationship in high school that he thought could have resulted in a husband, but the guy had ghosted him the second they’d gotten to college, and so Frankie had begun his campaign of hookups for the next five years.
Now though, the revolving door of incredible people who barely even stuck around for a second round, let alone breakfast in bed or sleepy afternoon cuddles, was getting exhausting.
At least he still had Diego’s cuddles. Over the past few months, their casual touches had evolved from foot rubs and leaning against each other while working to Diego throwing his arm across the back of the couch and allowing Frankie to curl into his side.
Sometimes he even purposefully sat down so close to Frankie on the couch that Frankie would inevitably fall into his lap, where he’d stay for as long as he was allowed.
Frankie knew he needed to answer Seth, but the longer he waited, the sadder Seth’s eyes got, and the more painfully sympathetic Obie looked. So, instead, Frankie decided getting up to take his dishes to the dishwasher was answer enough.
Fall was Frankie’s favorite season, and this year was no different. In fact, it was one of the best he’d ever had.
His food delivery job had netted him over fifty recipes throughout the spring and summer, and when pumpkin spice season arrived, Frankie was ready .
He concocted a list of thirty different fall recipes he wanted to master, including flavors such as maple, brown sugar, pumpkin (of course), and apple.
Frankie was a little surprised everyone was tolerating his baking antics so much, but he only allowed himself one treat per night. This meant he often ended up pawning his baked goods off on their many friends, but mostly Seth, Obie, and Diego.
“ Tesoro , you’re going to make me fat. As the only non-naturally testosterone producing person here, I would like to remind you that my metabolism does not work like yours,” Diego groaned, tossing back the final bite of the previous night's maple bourbon cake.
Neither Obie nor Seth batted an eye at their rotating list of multilingual endearments.
For the first few weeks, they’d stopped the conversation to ask what this meant in Spanish or what that meant in French.
Thankfully though, they’d given up and, generally speaking, so had Frankie.
Occasionally he would remember a word well enough to look it up later, but mostly he trusted Diego when he said they were all casual endearments thrown around in Spanish, even if some of them sounded suspiciously affectionate to Frankie.
“As someone who has not seen the young side of 25 in a while, my metabolism also does not work the way yours does,” Obie grumbled as he polished off his third pumpkin and gouda scone.
Frankie could never work out how old Obie was.
He had crow’s feet around his eyes and laugh lines forming at the corner of his lips.
At the same time, his style was incredibly eclectic, ranging from mini-skirts and crop tops to bell bottom jeans and bomber jackets, which did little to shed light on his age.
Based on some of the references he made to pop culture, he had probably spent some formative years in the 90s, so maybe he was an elder millennial.
“Well, my metabolism is great . Keep ‘em coming Frankie!” Seth crowed.
Frankie had developed a loving, platonic relationship with Seth, and he was truly thankful Penelope had checked out the apartment without Obie here. He was also pleased he had not run screaming at Obie’s antics on the first day he’d arrived.
On nights when Diego wasn’t over and Obie had a late night client, which were both becoming fewer and farther between, he and Seth would curl up on the sofa together, cuddled up under blankets or tangled in each other’s legs.
Frankie had been hooking up less and less with strangers, preferring to spend the night sandwiched between Diego and Obie, with Seth on his lap, or cuddled up with Diego or Seth individually.
If he could somehow shut off his dick, he could almost convince himself this was all he ever needed.