I wanted to do a more proper Gregstophe fanfic so here it is. This'll be the longest chapter so please don't get your hopes up for long chapters every time lol

Christophe's accent will kinda be phonetically written just for this chapter because he's fresh outta France but it won't be like this for future chapters. Anyways- enjoy!

It all started when Gregory was eight years old. His parents had gone off on a business trip to France and left the lonely child home alone with the servants of their mansion.

They were the richest family in South Park along with Token's family the Williams- though the latter chose to live in a large minimalist home instead of owning a huge plot of land where their mansion resides like the Yardale's.

Gregory waited every day for his parents to come home, feeling bored and lonesome from having no one to hang out with as the servants didn't want him to leave home when the master and mistress were out. It was summer so that meant he was stuck inside the grounds for however long it took for them to come home.

Luckily they were only gone for three weeks. What the young heir wasn't expecting was a boy a little shorter than him standing by their side. He was covered head to toe in crusted mud, his brown hair messy and dirty, and his soiled clothes- it was enough to make the blond cringe. The only part of him that seemed clean were those pretty cinnamon eyes. They were hard and cold, but they were still pretty nonetheless.

He learned that the boy's name was Christophe DeLorne.

"Gregory, Christophe will be living with us from now on, please be kind to him," his mother asked kindly.

"Is he going to be dirty the whole time?" Gregory couldn't help that question, it was bugging him.

Christophe narrowed his eyes to Gregory, "zhat is none of your business!" Oh... that accent sounded nice, gruff... but nice. His business sounded like "bees knees" but Gregory wouldn't mock him for that- after all the boy lived in France his entire life.

"Hm... I'll just have to teach you how to be clean," Gregory held out a hand, "I am Gregory."

"I already knew zhis," Christophe stated icily, he ignored the hand and decided to turn away from him and stare at the ground in some sort of protest.

Gregory's father sighed softly and motioned for Gregory to follow him into the sun room. Once in there his father interlaced his fingers as he rested his elbows against the table, "Gregory, please ignore Christophe's harshness... he doesn't mean it- he just had to deal with some horrible stuff."

"What happened?" Gregory sat down on the very expensive wicket chair across from the man he idolized.

"Christophe is originally from France as you know. Well your mother and I were there to meet with this fashion company to discuss her art and we came across Christophe alone in an alley. It took us over a week for him to come out and even acknowledge us, in fact his first words were for us to go fuck ourselves," Gregory's father gave a chuckle, "after two weeks Christophe finally opened up to us what happened to him. He was living on the streets because he used to live with his mother and father, but his mother died and his father blamed him- doing horrid things I can't possible tell you- and then the boy finally had enough and ran away. Our last week there we decided to take Christophe home with us, officially having adopting him into our family registry."

Gregory seemed a bit confused, "so you're saying I have a brother now?"

"No, not at all. Christophe told us he didn't want us to view him as a son, nor as family, just someone that was taken as a novelty, harsh I know, but its what he wants," the man smiled faintly, "I have a feeling you two will become close, so just treat him as a friend."

"I got it, I will do as you wish," Gregory said with his own smile- though it was one of politeness. The two of them walked out of the room and Gregory was left wandering the halls in thought.

A couple weeks passed since Christophe came to live with the Yardale's. Gregory never seemed to be able to pin down where the "mole-like" boy would be, but every time he did see him he was covered in dirt.

Oh! There he was. Gregory had been taking a walk outside and noticed a mop of brown hair behind the bushes. Curiosity got the better of him and he saw Christophe gently tending to a wilting flowerbed. 

"Now this is a strange sight, you're surprisingly gentle," Gregory mused as he knelt down next to the brunet.

Christophe visibly startled, "Oi! Putain! Don't jump me," he snapped as he took his eyes away from the flowers. Blue eyes locked with brown for several long seconds before Gregory coughed and broke eye contact.

"So... you like flowers?"

"Zhey are zhe only zhing I can actually take care of..." Christophe's voice softened as did his eyes warm, but almost immediately they hardened once he realized what he was doing, "anyways why are you 'ere?"

"Well I saw you by the garden and decided to drop by," Gregory shrugged indifferently, "so mother tells me you won't let anyone do anything for you."

"Tch. I am my own person! I can do zhings myself! I don't need servants, or all zhis money, or fancy clothes! I just- I never wanted any of zhis..." Christophe looked like he was about to cry out of frustration. 

Gregory couldn't blame him. How would he react if he were pulled from poverty and placed in a first class household. Then he got an idea, "ah, if you don't want to live here for free then you can work for my family instead," he said with a grin.

Christophe's eyes widened, "what do you mean by zhat?" His eyes narrowed a fraction, not quite understanding what Gregory's mindset was.

"What I mean is, you can be the official gardener and my own personal puppy-" Gregory smirked at Christophe's immediate sour face at that nickname, "sorry, guard dog."

"You want me to tend zhe gardens while also babysitting you?" Christophe asked with his own taunting smirk.

"I wouldn't word it like that, but yes. You get paid by having a roof over your head and food, and I get to have a nice garden and someone to annoy for the rest of my life," Gregory commented, nodding his head.

Christophe bit his chapped lower lip in thought, mulling it over for only a few moments before he gave a nod of his head, "sounds better to me. I'd razher work for my living and not like a spoiled baby, eh stupeed?" His cinnamon eyes flashed with a spark of excitement.

"You know for an eight year old you're quite stubborn."

"Right back at you, idiot."

The two shared a laugh and Christophe's face was soft, "Merci..."

The arrangement the two boys made when they were eight surprised Gregory's parents, but they were happy that Christophe finally seemed to be settling in with that.

At the age of twelve Christophe noticed the large shed in the gardens. He opened the old doors and saw that it was dusty and pretty empty. It honestly couldn't even be considered a shed, but it was smaller than a guest house... though there was a bathroom at the far back that contained a shower, toilet, and sink. The entire thing was literally a square. There was a large window on the right side of the building. It was perfect.

The french boy walked inside the mansion and looked around for either Yardale parent before finding the mother in the music room. He knocked before walking in.

"Oh Christophe! Did you need something dear?" She asked as she put her teacup down, a warm smile on her face.

Christophe walked into the room and sat down across from her (after dusting off the back of his pants in case), "I had a question, is anyone using that building in the corner of the garden? The one near the front gate."

"No actually, we used to have Gregory's grandmother stay there but she had moved to Italy to retire, why do you ask?" She questioned, tilting her head.

"Uhm, I was wondering if it were okay if I lived there? I thank you for letting me live in this large house, but I feel more comfortable by myself and I don't feel as nervous being near the garden..." Christophe explained.

She hummed and nodded her head. A finger rose to her lip as she closed her eyes in thought, then she smiled and opened her eyes, "I think that will be perfectly okay. We want you to be as happy as you can be, so if living in the guest home and working for us is what will then I have no qualms about such things."

The french boy grew a small soft smile, "merci mademoiselle. If its not too much I'll work on cleaning it up today and move my stuff in."

"That's okay! Do what you like."

With that Christophe was scrubbing the walls with a sponge and soapy water. Honestly the dirt and gunk didn't bother him, but he knew for a fact if he didn't clean before he moved his stuff in then none of the Yardales would permit him to live there.

He sighed as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead, finally finished with the final wall. He stood up and noticed Gregory running straight towards the shed, "Ah-"

"Christophe! Why are you living in this place?! It's so dirty and-" Gregory paused and did a one over around the place, "it's clean... wow..."

"Se taire! I had to or else I wouldn't hear the end of it," Christophe scowled, throwing a sponge at the blond- whom easily dodged it.

Gregory walked in and hummed, "well I guess you don't need to move down a bed since there's already one in here... I think the only furniture you need is a dresser."

"There's a dresser in front of the bed, idiot," the brunet huffed as he pointed to the wooden dresser that was against the foot of the bed- which was a queen size and the head of it against the large windows. There honestly wasn't that much room, just enough to go down the hall to the bathroom and room to access the drawers and to reach the bed from the sides.

"I see I see," Gregory held a fist to his chin as he did a one over on Christophe- whom was covered in soap suds, water, and the dirt that turned to mud from getting wet, "you should get a shower before you ruin this nice work."

"Tch! I'm covered in water and soap, its the best as it gets," Christophe retorted.

"Mhm, no way, you're getting an actual shower whether I have to force you or not," Gregory crept over with his hands raised and a sinister smirk on his face.

Christophe backed up, "you wouldn't dare."

"Oh I do dare."

Needless to say Christophe lost that battle. Honestly, Christophe had always been soft for the blond. The only one who truly knew how he functioned, how he thought, what he needed. It was always Gregory. It wasn't a surprise that the twelve year old french boy grew a crush on his friend. It was just a crush though. Nothing more.

He said that until the age of fourteen. Those feelings for Gregory only grew over the years. Christophe was in his- for the purpose of this fic we'll call the shed his base- base. He had many of his tools for gardening or whatnot on hooks on the left wall from the door. On his dresser was stuff for school, on the window sill was different types of potted plants- mostly succulents. On the wall next to his bed on the right was a string of fairy lights with polaroids of him and Gregory that the latter had taken. 

Then strung all over the base were many types of fairy lights. When Gregory found out how much the young teen loved the lights he made sure to gift him a new set every holiday he could. Only ones that ran on batteries though as there weren't many outlets in the base.

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I                        I                                                  I
I                        I                                                  I
I                              Door                                   I
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I                        ---------------------------------
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I                     Lmfao a Christophe Base
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I      Door
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Anyways.

Christophe was in the middle of reading Grapes of Wrath when Gregory burst into the shed, "haven't you heard of knocking you idiot?" He questioned with an annoyed furrow of the brows, but honestly he wasn't annoyed. He always looked forward to Gregory visiting him.

The blond grinned and walked over to the bed before plopping down on his back, "you know I was thinking...."

"Snort... that's dangerous," Christophe commented as he turned a page in his book.

"Very funny 'tophe, no I mean I was thinking about us," Gregory spoke, his eyes on the lit up ceiling.

Christophe dropped his book in surprise, his heart racing, "what do you mean by that?"

"Oh come now, it's obvious that you like me, you could never hide your emotions from me," Gregory simply commented, not really realizing that his words could potentially hurt the poor french boy.

Which they did. Christophe balled his fists and he cast his eyes down to his lap, "if you've come here just to mock me you can just leave..." he spat harsly, his shoulders trembled, "get out."

Gregory's eyes widened in shock, "wait- no! Christophe that isn't what I meant by that at all!"

"Then what did you mean?!" Christophe looked up and his face was a mixture of hurt and anger. He was so close to throwing Gregory out himself.

The blond sighed heavily and grabbed Christophe's chin in his hand before tugging him forward- connecting their lips in a short and sweet kiss.

Christophe's face burned a bloody red and he couldn't speak for a solid ten seconds before he angrily took Gregory by the shoulders and shook him, "bastard! Why did you do that?!"

"Why what?" Gregory grabbed Christophe's wrists and made him stop, "I kissed you because I like you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You have to be! Why- Why else would you like me?!"

Christophe's words hurt Gregory's heart. The brit sighed softly and pulled the shorter male into his arms, "I like you because you're you, 'tophe... I've liked you for the longest time but only now decided to tell you because I knew you weren't going to tell me your feelings. You always try to act so strong."

The brunet bit his lip, hiding his face in Gregory's shoulder, "th-that doesn't mean anything... you could be lying to make me feel better..."

"Mhm, yeah okay," Gregory rolled his eyes and gave him a squeeze, "I have never once lied to you, you know this. I really want to be with you."

"Really really?"

"God you're so cute!"

"ZIP IT! I'm not cute! And do nOT bring that asshole into this! He has nothing to do with my feelings for you!" Christophe shrieked, his cheeks still red, but his eyes looked a lot more accepting of Gregory's words.

Gregory chuckled, "sorry sorry," he leaned his forehead against Christophe's, "but I am serious. Seriously serious. All the words that mean I am serious I will spiritually add them here... I like you 'tophe..."

Christophe felt his heart race, but this time out of excitement. They leaned in again but before their lips met Christophe whispered, "merci."

Very long I know. Also I didn't know how to portray the base with writing so I winged it lol Anyways I hope you enjoyed and I would appreciate it if you commented! Thank you!