Don’t cry. *wraps his arms around the man’s shoulders and nuzzles against his cheek* Unless you are absolutely dying to tell me this story, perhaps it can wait?
[Rolls his eyes but then smiles and kisses Sven’s cheek] Alright. Now, I’m hungry. Do you have anything here?
Vulgarity is good. Enjoyable vulgarity is even better. You won’t hear any complaints from me. A good story with a good fuck. It’s a win-win situation.
But this book- is just dribble. Plain and simple. It’s like England trying to dress like you, copy your fashion sense. Just not the same.
[Grimaces and moves over to hit the top of his head with the book] Why don’t you write a better one then? You know what they say about Amsterdam, that it’s full of weed and whores. Prove me that they’re wrong and unleash your inner writer.
"I’ll take the martini. Don’t have those often enough," Gilbert’s focus was still on the dartboard as he aimed earnestly.
“So, have not seen much of you since the Cup. Been busy?”
The dart hits a little closer to Francis’ own this time.
Francis is busy preparing Gilbert’s martini, which he makes shaken as experience tells him it’s better, so he does not see the dart getting closer to the target. “You could say so. I mean, I was busy with the celebration for Bastille Day and D-Day, so you know.”
He pours himself whiskey and brings the glasses over to his friend, awe appearing on his expression at seeing the dart. “Ah, you’re still a fast learner.”
*scowls, but finds himself too distracted by the request to complain. Not that he was one to talk at any rate.*
What are you burning? EY- why is it now OK to burn things in my garden but not yours, huh?! *quasi-slams the door shut and follows the Frenchman*
It’s because I do it better! [Proudly claims and swings his arm around Lovino’s, looking around] I think we should burn your Armani and then go buy you some Vuitton, what do you think? Gucci shall be replaced with YSL. And maybe some Versace wouldn’t hurt either…
*in hindsight wonders if he really should’ve gotten up or not* Why wouldn’t we be? You lost to someone OK by a small margin compared to some of us. And Brazil themselves. We’re not disappointed at all. This’s been a weird as fuck tournament. We’re glad the ‘New World’ pandemic’s died off.
*bUSTED. somewhere between petulant and outraged* Ey- where else are we meant to have it, you wanna start a fire in the middle of the street? We’ll make it a little one you can cover up- *picks up an empty cardboard box and walks off to go collecting*
[Weeks later and Francis is knocking on Lovino’s door, looking rather impatient. When the door opens, he immediately pushes inside]
We’re making a bonfire.
*hums non-committal. deconstructing the other’s point would serve no real purpose, and he’s not feeling particularly malicious, so he concedes. grasping the wine bottle, he puts the lip to his mouth and lets the liquid bounce off the back of his throat sharp and warm his insides - going limp against the sofa, the ignored glass by his side.* Invisible? Heaven grants no such mercies. *after a moment’s pause he has to force his head to turn. It’s nothing negative on Francis’ side, merely-…. The look on Arthur’s face is impassive. In the light of the open curtain, the silver of the softly smoking cigarette, the Frenchman does look inescapably tired and the Englishman’s expression softens* …Happy Birthday. *momentarily torn, he keeps his attention on his friend and after a few more seconds internal debate, puts a hand on the other’s knee and briefly kisses him on the cheek. Francis, he knows, is naturally much more partial to such things than he is. retracting and resuming his default state of looking elsewhere with bottle in hand* What will you do now? Go back to sleep? *bites his tongue subtly and wonders if that was a stupid thing to say. he didn’t want to appear impatient to leave the other’s company*
[He smiles at the kiss, now pleased to have received what he wanted. He takes another drag of smoke, the ash falling on the floor and he thinks ‘I’ll clean it later’ because honestly, his room is a mess and extra mess won’t matter if he will clean it all later anyway. He glances at Arthur and raises an eyebrow, placing the fag between his lips.] No, I don’t think so. I’ll get a shower, put on some decent clothes and maybe go out to eat. Are you waiting for me or…?
"I think I know how to get into position to aim my dart!"
Still, Gilbert, watched carefully as the dart floated into the air to land dead center. his focus was back on Francis.
"Fine, fine, let me try…"
Trying to imitate the other man, Gilbert keeps the dart close to his head, releasing the dart a little too late. The dart landed at the topmost of the board.
"Fuck. Gimme a few times, I’ll nail this soon enough."
He started laughing when he saw where the dart landed, placing a hand on Gilbert’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “Alright, suit yourself. I’ll mix us some drinks while you practice. Is martini alright or do you want something stronger? I believe I have some fifty-years old whiskey too.”
Is it now? I heard a drunk rendition of it on the Youtube. I actually laughed it was so ridiculous. [imitates a woman’s voice in his falsetto] “But how will it fit?” [lowers his voice in a pseudo-sexy tone, predatory]”Ahh,… You’ll expand too.”
Tch. For fuck’s sake. [shakes his head]
[Snorts, rolling his eyes and he closes the book] I think it’s something this century lacks. Back in the 17th century- now those were some of the best erotic books I’ve ever read. But then they slowly died as years passed, don’t you think? Except for the letters the British soldiers would send back home. Hah, such enjoyable vulgarity.
[Grins but then waves a hand nonchalantly] Humans are censuring themselves. They tell children ‘don’t touch youself’, ‘babies come from storks’, ‘sex is a sin’. Please. Any form of rebellion in this century will be admired by me.
I hope by something you mean someone. *strokes the man’s hair and bends to kiss the top of his head* …You smell like…nostalgia. Is that you wallowing in romantic memories or the scent of sad masterbation?
[He gives him an offended gaze, placing a hand over his hear] Pardon- [But even so, he can’t help but pout] Last time I masturbated was a week ago, and I doubt you want to hear the whole story. [Because he would say it]
[He’s reading Fifty Shades of Grey]
Oh no, not you too.
[Looks up from his book, cheeks and neck just a bit flushed]
What? It’s… interesting.