[English/anglais] Baguette
Title : Baguette
Auteur : maikichelorrain
Character(s) and/orPairing(s) : France, England
Rating : PG-13
Avertissement : sexual innuendos
Summary: Arthur shouldn't be allowed to use his phone when he's drunk in a pub. Based on the stuff I wrote for starshards Beta by strawberryburst
Damn whining French bastard.
“Frog, la ferme and bring it to me!”
“Don’t you know what time it is?”
“Oh, don’t think that I can’t see through your game; you want me to beg. Beg for it.”
England may have been drunk in the middle of a pub, surrounded by one, two, three-or was it a dozen?-beer mugs that he had emptied over the course of the evening, but he wasn’t stupid. He could decipher a French plan no matter how inebriated he was, his superior pride and English instinct refusing to fall for such a trick.
“And you know what? That won’t happen, France. You’re so going to bring your sorry ass to the pub right now.”
The bartender seemed to panic somehow at the prospect of having another drunkard in his place (and England wouldn’t blame anyone for not wanting France in their vital space), but a glare was enough to convince him to fill England’s mug and shut up.
And life was good once again. Even if he had this damn difficult bastard on the line - thankfully, England somehow realised he had too much alcohol in his blood to remember the next morning that his phone had asked him to call France in the middle of the night. Couldn’t resist his phone, he had chosen him and it was a nice buddy, never complaining when he was used to insult people, just like the good technologic device it was.
“Or what? Please, don’t tell me you only ruined my night and called me at 10 pm for this stupid request?”
“I didn’t ruin your night, I did you a favour.”
“I wouldn’t call this a favour. I am in pleasant company”
“Liar. I’m the pleasant company. And you’re always open to it!”
“ Precisely not. It’s not open at the moment”
“Then it’s time to open”
France sighed and England thought he heard a stream of insults. Or not, though he could still speak French well in his current state.
“Even if I did, nothing would be ready before tomorrow morning. And by the time I got to London and found… you, it would be hard.”
England fixed his phone, wondering if his cellular had lost his head. Maybe he had heard wrong. Or maybe the phone was a virgin - but after a while in his pocket, it shouldn’t be that innocent, should it?
“That’s precisely the point. I want it hard and hot,” he slurred.
“You’ll get it hard, but not hot, I’m afraid.”
There was a short pause, to the point England thought the phone was dead or ready for mouth to mouth resuscitation. Or maybe it was France? But then he moaned.
“Your taste is… a mystery to me,” he sighed, “Even I’d agree to your stupidity, it wouldn’t fit in the bag. Do you remember how long it can be?”
“Yes. And it’s not the first time you’ve shoved your baguette in my bag. It fucking fits.”
Anyway, if it didn’t, he would make it fit, no problem. Finishing his beer, he waited for Francis’s answer and for his glass to be full again.
“Wait a minute… When you told me you wanted my baguette, you weren’t referring to… the bread?”
“Your bread? What the hell, France, are you deaf? I want your cock!”
“How surprising it is,” France sighed. “Anyway, you should know better. Bread and cocks wake up at dawn. So… good night England”
“Wait… God dammit, France. Come here now!”
Damn, was he begging? Though, based on the look on the waitress across the room, he may as well have been screaming at his crew to fire on the enemy ship.
“I can’t. There’s no train for London until tomorrow morning, and then… my railway is on strike.”
And the phone shut up. England looked at it a bit dumbfounded, wondering why the Hell it was suddenly so silent. The phone wasn’t dead, that was the only thing he was certain, since it still had his funny lights on, white and red as his flag.
Oh. Could it mean that the frog was dead then?
England paused for a second.
Damn, his mug was still empty.
French: la ferme = shut up
Auteur : maikichelorrain
Character(s) and/orPairing(s) : France, England
Rating : PG-13
Avertissement : sexual innuendos
Summary: Arthur shouldn't be allowed to use his phone when he's drunk in a pub. Based on the stuff I wrote for starshards Beta by strawberryburst
Damn whining French bastard.
“Frog, la ferme and bring it to me!”
“Don’t you know what time it is?”
“Oh, don’t think that I can’t see through your game; you want me to beg. Beg for it.”
England may have been drunk in the middle of a pub, surrounded by one, two, three-or was it a dozen?-beer mugs that he had emptied over the course of the evening, but he wasn’t stupid. He could decipher a French plan no matter how inebriated he was, his superior pride and English instinct refusing to fall for such a trick.
“And you know what? That won’t happen, France. You’re so going to bring your sorry ass to the pub right now.”
The bartender seemed to panic somehow at the prospect of having another drunkard in his place (and England wouldn’t blame anyone for not wanting France in their vital space), but a glare was enough to convince him to fill England’s mug and shut up.
And life was good once again. Even if he had this damn difficult bastard on the line - thankfully, England somehow realised he had too much alcohol in his blood to remember the next morning that his phone had asked him to call France in the middle of the night. Couldn’t resist his phone, he had chosen him and it was a nice buddy, never complaining when he was used to insult people, just like the good technologic device it was.
“Or what? Please, don’t tell me you only ruined my night and called me at 10 pm for this stupid request?”
“I didn’t ruin your night, I did you a favour.”
“I wouldn’t call this a favour. I am in pleasant company”
“Liar. I’m the pleasant company. And you’re always open to it!”
“ Precisely not. It’s not open at the moment”
“Then it’s time to open”
France sighed and England thought he heard a stream of insults. Or not, though he could still speak French well in his current state.
“Even if I did, nothing would be ready before tomorrow morning. And by the time I got to London and found… you, it would be hard.”
England fixed his phone, wondering if his cellular had lost his head. Maybe he had heard wrong. Or maybe the phone was a virgin - but after a while in his pocket, it shouldn’t be that innocent, should it?
“That’s precisely the point. I want it hard and hot,” he slurred.
“You’ll get it hard, but not hot, I’m afraid.”
There was a short pause, to the point England thought the phone was dead or ready for mouth to mouth resuscitation. Or maybe it was France? But then he moaned.
“Your taste is… a mystery to me,” he sighed, “Even I’d agree to your stupidity, it wouldn’t fit in the bag. Do you remember how long it can be?”
“Yes. And it’s not the first time you’ve shoved your baguette in my bag. It fucking fits.”
Anyway, if it didn’t, he would make it fit, no problem. Finishing his beer, he waited for Francis’s answer and for his glass to be full again.
“Wait a minute… When you told me you wanted my baguette, you weren’t referring to… the bread?”
“Your bread? What the hell, France, are you deaf? I want your cock!”
“How surprising it is,” France sighed. “Anyway, you should know better. Bread and cocks wake up at dawn. So… good night England”
“Wait… God dammit, France. Come here now!”
Damn, was he begging? Though, based on the look on the waitress across the room, he may as well have been screaming at his crew to fire on the enemy ship.
“I can’t. There’s no train for London until tomorrow morning, and then… my railway is on strike.”
And the phone shut up. England looked at it a bit dumbfounded, wondering why the Hell it was suddenly so silent. The phone wasn’t dead, that was the only thing he was certain, since it still had his funny lights on, white and red as his flag.
Oh. Could it mean that the frog was dead then?
England paused for a second.
Damn, his mug was still empty.
French: la ferme = shut up