[fanfiction] Of Merlot and Chemical Clean-Ups
Characters/Pairing: France/UK implied Roma/Germania.
Genre(s): Romance/Humour
Rating: T+
Summary: In which the janitor’s closet is used as an ideal location for the French and English teachers to drink wine and not scar their students with their drunken tomfoolery. FrUK
Notes: A present for
batty_angel cause she drew me some sexy perm!Ludwig~ All she requested was FrUK and I WAS SO ON THAT SHIT XD
Forgive me Papa Roma, for I have sinned. I have wrote a highschool AU… ARG, HIGHSCHOOL AUS ARE JUST TOO FUN ;A; May I be forgiven for writing cute!Liechtenstein and olderbro!Switzerland?! I swear this will be the only one I write. (okay, maybe not, but I won’t go out of my way to write them) Kids in the school around ten to fifteen-years-old. I paid no attention to canon in picking who’s a student and who’s a teacher.
Of Merlot and Chemical Clean-Ups
“Big brother?”
Vash looked down at his little sister, who was clutching his hand tightly as they waited to cross the busy street. She was in a brand-new school uniform and her short hair, so similar to his own, was decorated with a small bow sitting. He couldn’t help but squeeze her hand a little tighter, wondering what he was going to do when she actually developed and started having boys come after her. Oh well, he did have his concealed weapon licence if things got too out of hand.
“Yes, Lili?” He asked, making sure to stop at the crosswalk. The light was telling them it was safe to cross, but he wanted to wait and check anyway. One could never be too careful. His caution led to the light turning red and him having to wait again.
Tugging at one of her bows, Lili watched the cars zoom by, counting them under her breath. “Today I saw two of my teachers hugging each other.”
“They’re just good friends, Lili.” Vash said, trying to keep an open mind while secretly planning to call the school and demand why outright affection was allowed between trained staff, “You hug me, don’t you?”
She tugged at his sleeve, making him look down. Her cheeks were rosy. “You’re not listening big brother! It was weird hugging, like they were trying to eat each other’s faces off!”
The light turned, but again Vash didn’t walk, staring down at his sister. Composing himself, he looked away from her, trying not to flush himself. “Kissing.” He said finally, resisting the urge to grab his cellphone that moment, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” He started to step onto the road.
“Oooh.” His sister said, clutching at his hand tighter and nodding in understanding, “So Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland are best friends, so they can kiss?”
“Exactly.” Vash paused, foot halfway onto the road. “Wait a second…”
The light turned red again.
Francis peered into Arthur’s classroom, seeing that all the kids were at their desks, quietly reading. The teacher had a leg folded over the other, a book propped open on his thigh, green eyes scanning behind glasses - the very same glasses Francis had accidentally put on this morning when getting up.
He tapped a long finger against the small window. Arthur didn’t notice, but a child at the front glanced up from his book, soft hazel eyes blinking at him slowly, a curl sticking out of his brown hair, curving around into an almost perfect circle. Smiling, the teacher gave the small boy a wave, pointing at Arthur. The small chubby face nodded enthusiastically, curl bobbing up and down, and he got up from his desk, waddling over to Arthur and tugging on his pants.
Emerald eyes first looked at the child, then at the Frenchman standing at his door, waving with a wide smile. His expression quickly turned from blissful peace to outright fury. He snapped his book shut and stormed towards the door, wrenching it open.
“Do not leave the classroom.” Arthur said, turning back to face his students, “If any of you are missing when I return, I will send you down to Mr. Braginski’s office. Am I clear?” His only response was a quiet ‘Yes, Mr. Kirkland,’ as the children returned to their reading.
“Threatening them with the principal?” Francis chided as Arthur shut the door to his class, “Now that’s not very nice.”
“What do you want Bonnefoy?” The English teacher demanded, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, “Unlike some people, I have work to do.”
Francis made a face, a hand draping against his forehead in a dramatic move. “Your formality hurts, mon cher.” With his other hand, he reached forward and touched Arthur’s cheek, “Why don’t you say my name like you did last night?”
Blushing, Arthur swatted the fingers away, nervously glancing back into his classroom, catching the eyes of the small brunette and glaring, making the child jump and turn back to his book. “Don’t touch me.” He growled, looking back at Francis, “We are in school. I do not know you outside of school when we are inside of school, remember?”
The Frenchman laughed. “You are being silly.”
“I am not being silly.” Taking a step forward, Arthur shoved Francis back so that they were out of view from his students. The moment they were out of sight, fingers pulled Arthur’s tie out of his sweater-vest and tugged him into a kiss. Before he could make heads or tails of the situation, his back pressed into the wall and Francis was tilting his chin upwards. “Get off me…”
Blue eyes twinkled at him and Francis’ breath was tinted with the smell of the day old coffee from the staffroom and fresh lilies. “Non.” He leaned forward, gently biting Arthur’s lower lip, “What are you going to do, call for help?” Scowling, Arthur closed his eyes and opened his lips, letting the Frenchmen’s tongue slip in and brush against his.
“Mr. Bonnefoy, Mr. Kirkland.” They both froze, “May I ask what exactly are you doing?”
Standing at the end of the hall, his long blond hair hanging over his left shoulder while blue eyes looked at him over the rim of his glasses was the Vice Principal, Arnold Beilschmidt. Francis immediately picked himself off Arthur, who was blushing, adjusting his glasses and trying to tuck his tie back into his vest. “V-vice Principal Beilschmidt,” He said, making sure to take a step away from the Frenchman. “We were just-”
“I believe both my sons are in your class,” Arnold said, stepping by the two teachers and glancing into Arthur’s classroom, “I hope that I won’t be hearing any …stories.”
Arthur shook his head, wishing that his face would stop burning. “Of course not sir.” He resisted making the comment that Alfred - his brother - had come home more often than not telling wild stories of a certain vice-principal and art teacher doing things in the Art Room when classes were not in session.
The German nodded approvingly and strode away, dress shoes echoing ominously in the hallway. Arthur and Francis watched him turn the corner before looking at each other. The French teacher offered his hand. “I’ve got some Merlot in the janitor’s closet.”
Giving the empty hallway one last cautious look, Arthur took Francis’ hand. “Okay, let’s go.” Smiling, he was led down the opposite way the vice-principal had gone and they said nothing to each other until Francis stopped dead and Arthur bumped into him. He looked up to see the sigh for the janitor’s room shining at him. “And Toris isn’t going to show up?” He asked sceptically.
“Non. He’s cleaning up a mess in the Chem Lab.” Francis reached forward, opening the door and slipping inside.
Fumbling in after him, Arthur made sure to shut the door after him. It was pitch black within the closet, but he spoke anyway, “What did Felix do this time?”
“He was using hairspray right before doing a experiment with potassium.” There was the sound of boxes being shifted and a muttered ‘merde’ before Arthur heard the distinct clink of a bottle and a warm hand closing around his wrist, leading him deeper into the closet.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Arthur could see Francis’ silhouette struggling with the bottle, the cork proving to be an issue. “Oh hand it over.” Arthur snatched the bottle away, using his teeth the pry the top off, feeling like a privateer, “There, how a real man opens a bottle of wine.” Grinning, he took a long swig of the drink, humming contentedly. If the Frenchman was good for one thing, it was picking damn good wine.
Francis scowled, taking the bottle, bringing it to his lips and wrapping an arm around the Englishman’s waist. “I think this is where we left off.” He leaned forward, gently kissing him. The Brit wrapped his arms around Francis’ neck, one running through the blond hair while the other clutched at the collar of his shirt.
Pushing Arthur against the wall, Francis slipped his knee between Arthur’s legs, pushing up on his crotch, moving his mouth along the Brit’s jaw, kissing down his neck, pulling at the top of his shirt, wrestling with the tie. “Dieu…” He said, pulling back, using two hands to tug at the tie, “Why do you wear this accursed thing?”
Grinning at the Frenchman and knocking his hands away, Arthur undid the offending article himself. “Because you hate it.” He whispered, reaching up and taking off his glasses, “And it protect me from your damned French charm.”
“Oh does it mon cher?” Francis took another drink of wine before starting his work on Arthur’ neck again, making sure to keep the bruising marks below the collar in case Arnold decided to become very interested in the Brit’s neck.
Arthur groaned in pain and excitement. He tugged at Francis’ belt, toying with it - Francis’ pressed his knee up higher in response, humming against his collarbone - before pulling it off, letting it drop to the ground. “You’re already hard?” Arthur breathed, undoing the button of his pants, slipping his hand inside and gripping him, “You’re such a bloody pervert.”
Blue eyes stared at him, lips open, groaning quietly as he tried to speak. “Your hands are rough Sourcils… don’t you have lotion or something?” He mashed their foreheads together, mixing Eskimo kisses with French. The next words were spoken so quietly, Arthur felt them more than heard them. “Or something better?” The Frenchman grinned against his lips, pulling back.
It took Arthur a moment to figure out what Francis was implying and when he did, he pulled his hand back, trying to worm away from the Frenchman, but failing slightly as he was pinned against the wall. “You want me to suck you off in the janitor’s closet!?” He asked, voice pitching an octave as he flushed horribly.
“Oui, or I will run into your classroom naked.” Francis said, smirking at Arthur, folding his arms over his chest. Despite the darkness, the Brit was sure his blush was illuminating his face.
“You’d lose your job!” He countered, looking down, trying to redo his tie, keen on getting out of there.
Francis grabbed his wrist, pinning it against the wall. “And?” He said, nuzzling his cheek against Arthur’s, “I’m a teacher, they’ll put it down to overwork or stress, I’ll get the rest of the year off and then return, fresh as a daisy.”
Struggling against the Frenchman’s hold, Arthur continued to glare at him, cheeks still burning. “This is blackmail.”
“S’il vous plaît?” Francis said, his breath hot in Arthur’s ear.
Arthur stopped struggling, swallowing hard, closing his eyes. “Only if we get one thing straight.” Emerald bore into the Frenchman’s face, “I’m doing this for my students.”
“All the better.” Francis kissed him, taking his hand and grabbing the Brit’s shoulder and pushing him onto his knees, “Now…”
And it was at that precise moment that little turquoise eye that had been watching the entire scene unfold from the crack in the door disappeared, it’s owner reminding herself to ask her big brother about the strange encounter later. After all, she had never seen hugging like that before.
Author’s Note
Ffff- Italy would be the cutest little kid EVER.
Wait…Chibitalia…
/headdesk
Genre(s): Romance/Humour
Rating: T+
Summary: In which the janitor’s closet is used as an ideal location for the French and English teachers to drink wine and not scar their students with their drunken tomfoolery. FrUK
Notes: A present for
batty_angel cause she drew me some sexy perm!Ludwig~ All she requested was FrUK and I WAS SO ON THAT SHIT XD
Forgive me Papa Roma, for I have sinned. I have wrote a highschool AU… ARG, HIGHSCHOOL AUS ARE JUST TOO FUN ;A; May I be forgiven for writing cute!Liechtenstein and olderbro!Switzerland?! I swear this will be the only one I write. (okay, maybe not, but I won’t go out of my way to write them) Kids in the school around ten to fifteen-years-old. I paid no attention to canon in picking who’s a student and who’s a teacher.
Of Merlot and Chemical Clean-Ups
“Big brother?”
Vash looked down at his little sister, who was clutching his hand tightly as they waited to cross the busy street. She was in a brand-new school uniform and her short hair, so similar to his own, was decorated with a small bow sitting. He couldn’t help but squeeze her hand a little tighter, wondering what he was going to do when she actually developed and started having boys come after her. Oh well, he did have his concealed weapon licence if things got too out of hand.
“Yes, Lili?” He asked, making sure to stop at the crosswalk. The light was telling them it was safe to cross, but he wanted to wait and check anyway. One could never be too careful. His caution led to the light turning red and him having to wait again.
Tugging at one of her bows, Lili watched the cars zoom by, counting them under her breath. “Today I saw two of my teachers hugging each other.”
“They’re just good friends, Lili.” Vash said, trying to keep an open mind while secretly planning to call the school and demand why outright affection was allowed between trained staff, “You hug me, don’t you?”
She tugged at his sleeve, making him look down. Her cheeks were rosy. “You’re not listening big brother! It was weird hugging, like they were trying to eat each other’s faces off!”
The light turned, but again Vash didn’t walk, staring down at his sister. Composing himself, he looked away from her, trying not to flush himself. “Kissing.” He said finally, resisting the urge to grab his cellphone that moment, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” He started to step onto the road.
“Oooh.” His sister said, clutching at his hand tighter and nodding in understanding, “So Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland are best friends, so they can kiss?”
“Exactly.” Vash paused, foot halfway onto the road. “Wait a second…”
The light turned red again.
Francis peered into Arthur’s classroom, seeing that all the kids were at their desks, quietly reading. The teacher had a leg folded over the other, a book propped open on his thigh, green eyes scanning behind glasses - the very same glasses Francis had accidentally put on this morning when getting up.
He tapped a long finger against the small window. Arthur didn’t notice, but a child at the front glanced up from his book, soft hazel eyes blinking at him slowly, a curl sticking out of his brown hair, curving around into an almost perfect circle. Smiling, the teacher gave the small boy a wave, pointing at Arthur. The small chubby face nodded enthusiastically, curl bobbing up and down, and he got up from his desk, waddling over to Arthur and tugging on his pants.
Emerald eyes first looked at the child, then at the Frenchman standing at his door, waving with a wide smile. His expression quickly turned from blissful peace to outright fury. He snapped his book shut and stormed towards the door, wrenching it open.
“Do not leave the classroom.” Arthur said, turning back to face his students, “If any of you are missing when I return, I will send you down to Mr. Braginski’s office. Am I clear?” His only response was a quiet ‘Yes, Mr. Kirkland,’ as the children returned to their reading.
“Threatening them with the principal?” Francis chided as Arthur shut the door to his class, “Now that’s not very nice.”
“What do you want Bonnefoy?” The English teacher demanded, folding his arms and leaning against the wall, “Unlike some people, I have work to do.”
Francis made a face, a hand draping against his forehead in a dramatic move. “Your formality hurts, mon cher.” With his other hand, he reached forward and touched Arthur’s cheek, “Why don’t you say my name like you did last night?”
Blushing, Arthur swatted the fingers away, nervously glancing back into his classroom, catching the eyes of the small brunette and glaring, making the child jump and turn back to his book. “Don’t touch me.” He growled, looking back at Francis, “We are in school. I do not know you outside of school when we are inside of school, remember?”
The Frenchman laughed. “You are being silly.”
“I am not being silly.” Taking a step forward, Arthur shoved Francis back so that they were out of view from his students. The moment they were out of sight, fingers pulled Arthur’s tie out of his sweater-vest and tugged him into a kiss. Before he could make heads or tails of the situation, his back pressed into the wall and Francis was tilting his chin upwards. “Get off me…”
Blue eyes twinkled at him and Francis’ breath was tinted with the smell of the day old coffee from the staffroom and fresh lilies. “Non.” He leaned forward, gently biting Arthur’s lower lip, “What are you going to do, call for help?” Scowling, Arthur closed his eyes and opened his lips, letting the Frenchmen’s tongue slip in and brush against his.
“Mr. Bonnefoy, Mr. Kirkland.” They both froze, “May I ask what exactly are you doing?”
Standing at the end of the hall, his long blond hair hanging over his left shoulder while blue eyes looked at him over the rim of his glasses was the Vice Principal, Arnold Beilschmidt. Francis immediately picked himself off Arthur, who was blushing, adjusting his glasses and trying to tuck his tie back into his vest. “V-vice Principal Beilschmidt,” He said, making sure to take a step away from the Frenchman. “We were just-”
“I believe both my sons are in your class,” Arnold said, stepping by the two teachers and glancing into Arthur’s classroom, “I hope that I won’t be hearing any …stories.”
Arthur shook his head, wishing that his face would stop burning. “Of course not sir.” He resisted making the comment that Alfred - his brother - had come home more often than not telling wild stories of a certain vice-principal and art teacher doing things in the Art Room when classes were not in session.
The German nodded approvingly and strode away, dress shoes echoing ominously in the hallway. Arthur and Francis watched him turn the corner before looking at each other. The French teacher offered his hand. “I’ve got some Merlot in the janitor’s closet.”
Giving the empty hallway one last cautious look, Arthur took Francis’ hand. “Okay, let’s go.” Smiling, he was led down the opposite way the vice-principal had gone and they said nothing to each other until Francis stopped dead and Arthur bumped into him. He looked up to see the sigh for the janitor’s room shining at him. “And Toris isn’t going to show up?” He asked sceptically.
“Non. He’s cleaning up a mess in the Chem Lab.” Francis reached forward, opening the door and slipping inside.
Fumbling in after him, Arthur made sure to shut the door after him. It was pitch black within the closet, but he spoke anyway, “What did Felix do this time?”
“He was using hairspray right before doing a experiment with potassium.” There was the sound of boxes being shifted and a muttered ‘merde’ before Arthur heard the distinct clink of a bottle and a warm hand closing around his wrist, leading him deeper into the closet.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Arthur could see Francis’ silhouette struggling with the bottle, the cork proving to be an issue. “Oh hand it over.” Arthur snatched the bottle away, using his teeth the pry the top off, feeling like a privateer, “There, how a real man opens a bottle of wine.” Grinning, he took a long swig of the drink, humming contentedly. If the Frenchman was good for one thing, it was picking damn good wine.
Francis scowled, taking the bottle, bringing it to his lips and wrapping an arm around the Englishman’s waist. “I think this is where we left off.” He leaned forward, gently kissing him. The Brit wrapped his arms around Francis’ neck, one running through the blond hair while the other clutched at the collar of his shirt.
Pushing Arthur against the wall, Francis slipped his knee between Arthur’s legs, pushing up on his crotch, moving his mouth along the Brit’s jaw, kissing down his neck, pulling at the top of his shirt, wrestling with the tie. “Dieu…” He said, pulling back, using two hands to tug at the tie, “Why do you wear this accursed thing?”
Grinning at the Frenchman and knocking his hands away, Arthur undid the offending article himself. “Because you hate it.” He whispered, reaching up and taking off his glasses, “And it protect me from your damned French charm.”
“Oh does it mon cher?” Francis took another drink of wine before starting his work on Arthur’ neck again, making sure to keep the bruising marks below the collar in case Arnold decided to become very interested in the Brit’s neck.
Arthur groaned in pain and excitement. He tugged at Francis’ belt, toying with it - Francis’ pressed his knee up higher in response, humming against his collarbone - before pulling it off, letting it drop to the ground. “You’re already hard?” Arthur breathed, undoing the button of his pants, slipping his hand inside and gripping him, “You’re such a bloody pervert.”
Blue eyes stared at him, lips open, groaning quietly as he tried to speak. “Your hands are rough Sourcils… don’t you have lotion or something?” He mashed their foreheads together, mixing Eskimo kisses with French. The next words were spoken so quietly, Arthur felt them more than heard them. “Or something better?” The Frenchman grinned against his lips, pulling back.
It took Arthur a moment to figure out what Francis was implying and when he did, he pulled his hand back, trying to worm away from the Frenchman, but failing slightly as he was pinned against the wall. “You want me to suck you off in the janitor’s closet!?” He asked, voice pitching an octave as he flushed horribly.
“Oui, or I will run into your classroom naked.” Francis said, smirking at Arthur, folding his arms over his chest. Despite the darkness, the Brit was sure his blush was illuminating his face.
“You’d lose your job!” He countered, looking down, trying to redo his tie, keen on getting out of there.
Francis grabbed his wrist, pinning it against the wall. “And?” He said, nuzzling his cheek against Arthur’s, “I’m a teacher, they’ll put it down to overwork or stress, I’ll get the rest of the year off and then return, fresh as a daisy.”
Struggling against the Frenchman’s hold, Arthur continued to glare at him, cheeks still burning. “This is blackmail.”
“S’il vous plaît?” Francis said, his breath hot in Arthur’s ear.
Arthur stopped struggling, swallowing hard, closing his eyes. “Only if we get one thing straight.” Emerald bore into the Frenchman’s face, “I’m doing this for my students.”
“All the better.” Francis kissed him, taking his hand and grabbing the Brit’s shoulder and pushing him onto his knees, “Now…”
And it was at that precise moment that little turquoise eye that had been watching the entire scene unfold from the crack in the door disappeared, it’s owner reminding herself to ask her big brother about the strange encounter later. After all, she had never seen hugging like that before.
Author’s Note
Ffff- Italy would be the cutest little kid EVER.
Wait…Chibitalia…
/headdesk