Waiting for The Kite (Chapter 1.2)
Title: Waiting for The Kite (an AU)
Author: cacaoboter
Rating: T
Characters: France, England, Canada, a mention of America
Pairings: France/England, a moment of France/Canada
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Francis glances at the fidgeting waitress, making sure she’s ready to take his order precisely. He clears his throat and begins. “One dory steak, light oil, separated lemon sauce. One salad with vinaigrette. Baked potato, no topping. A bottle of Perrier, still, room temperature.”
The waitress immediately scribbles away busily and repeats the order to Francis. When it comes to food, Francis is apparently quite a perfectionist.
The waitress turns to Arthur.
“I want…” He glances to Today’s Special menu on the table-when it comes to food, Arthur is apparently not much of a picky eater. He points his index finger to one of the pictures. “This.”
Francis excuses himself to the restroom. When he stands up, Arthur’s vision automatically sweeps around the room. It never changes. Everybody’s eyes glued to his direction. There are many handsome men in this city, yet it seems that none as this strongly effective in attracting people’s attention as Francis. Don’t imagine him parading around wearing shiny costume or strange outfits. Nothing special with his attires. Then why? Arthur’s hypothesis: his freaking French-ness. Arthur always suspects something’s wrong with the French and with all their romantic shit. He swears it’s contagious, making people around them stunned, that’s why. Probably.
Francis returns to the table, so does Arthur’s attention. Plus a classic question: “So, who’s the unlucky one this time?”
Francis smiles. “He’s a model. I’m working on his new house.”
“Wow. A model. Not only gorgeous, he also sounds rich. Good job, Francis.”
Francis raises one of his eyebrows, proceeding to sip his drink.
“Why? You look less excited than usual.”
He shrugs. “I have a bad feeling he’d turn out to be like the others.”
“Then stop seeing him.”
“He keeps following me.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll know what to do. You have the SOP.”
Francis shakes his head. “Despite of the similar endings, they show different responses. There were respectable ones. There was also a cry-baby and a very emotional girl who destroyed my room. I can’t be sure, sourcils. There’s no SOP to face this thing.”
“Like I said, stop playing around! You can’t even decide what your sexual preference is.”
The Frenchman straightens. “We are both grown-up men who can take responsibility for our own decisions, okay? What’s wrong with falling in love? I’m trying to find the one who can match me best. We all go through the same process whether you’re searching for a good car, picking out today’s outfits, or looking for a lover. And also, for me, a beauty is a beauty, no matter what gender. I though we’ve been over this argument long time ago.”
“What’s wrong is you never know what you actually want! If you do, why wasting time with trying?”
Francis looks ready to retaliate, but holding back quickly. They both know this will never come to a good end. And whatever they have right now is more important than a mere confrontation about two opinions which are clearly, obviously different. Hence the silence and they start eating.
“If you need something, you know better not to call me.”
Francis simply snorts.
They know, nothing will happen, Francis will not call and he will return undamaged, without a single scratch.