[
From Here To St Tropez] by
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emonyWarren/Andrew.
Fluffy fic, with a wonderful Warren POV.
That was almost a year ago now. Warren had fully intended to dump Andrew at Charles De Gaulle and carry on to the Med without him. To just tell him to go sit somewhere and wait. Eventually Andrew would realize that Warren wasn't coming back. He'd be heartbroken, probably cry, not know what to do. Lost and alone in Paris. He'd probably be mugged pretty soon, loose everything, end up at the US Embassy - assuming he had even that much sense - begging to be sent home and thrown in prison. Warren didn't care about that, because Warren looked after one person and one person alone, and that one person was Warren.
But Paris had been much larger than Warren imagined, scary and new and strange. It didn't help that neither of them spoke a word of French. Andrew had refused to move more than five centimeters from Warren's side once they'd got off the plane, and Warren had found it oddly comforting. It was easier to pretend he was confident and sure when he had Andrew to play the role for, and so they'd ended up in a four star hotel in central Paris, with a newly acquired phrase book, a French dictionary, and several million dollars.
Warren had decided that this was not a problem. He'd just modify the plan slightly. He'd wait until morning, when Paris wasn't quite so new, then he'd tell Andrew to stay in the hotel while he went out for a bit. Same situation, different location. It would still work.
But that night, in the dark, Warren had been scared and unsure, wondering not for the first time just how the fuck his life had gotten this insane. He'd reached over, pulled Andrew into his arms, and felt better knowing that there was one thing here that he knew, one thing he understood, one thing he was sure wouldn't suddenly change.