like typing - an amerikraine fic series (2/?)
Title: like typing (2/?)
Author/Artist: finch00
Character(s)/Pairing(s): america, canada, ukraine, estonia, netherlands, uk, france, mentions of prussia, belarus, lithuania, etc / america/ukraine (eventually), canada/netherlands, fruk, others implied/past.
Rating: it varies, but it's by no means g
Warnings: I can't think of any? it's set in a university au. so, warning if you hate universities or something, idk.
Author's Note: Special Halloween update! Have more bro times and the next update will def meet some new faces!
“What do prostitutes wear?” Alfred asked, rifling through his clothing. “I’d do the research, but I don’t want that shit in my browser history.”
“So, you ask me, like I would know anything about prostitutes,” Matthew asked from the doorway. “I’m flattered?”
“Well, I’m just saying. You’re learning French stuff. That shit is riddled with prostitutes.”
The curly-haired blond snorted. “Sorry, I guess I’m sort of useless when it comes to prostitutes.”
Alfred held a shirt up to his chest and turned towards his twin brother. “Does this say ‘Hello. I am temporarily poor as fuck and I will bone the crap out of you if you pay me money’?”
“It’s a picture of a SNES game and it says ‘Blow Me’. I suppose you’re most of the way there.”
Alfred fell back on his bed and sighed. “Mattie, do you think God’s gonna hate on me if I do this?”
“Well, Jesus hung out with a hooker too, right? Can’t be all that bad.”
“Mattie, I’m serious,” Alfred sat up. “I don’t wanna call dads.”
“Well, that’s ‘cause the last time you spoke to Iggy, you told him to, what was it? Oh,” Matthew snapped his
fingers in false-realization. “You told him to ‘get fucked’.”
“He deserved it,” Alfred rolled to face away from his twin.
Matthew didn’t know whose side to take in the ‘I Want to Go to Culinary School and Drop Out of University’ debate. On one hand, he saw that if Alfred was ever excited about anything, it was cooking. And eating. Well. Mostly eating. But Matthew saw how much his brother lit up when dinner came around. And yes, most of the things that Alfred liked to make were burgers and fries and things that may not have been exactly good for you, but it always tasted good and he always made sure to put a spin on things. Just last week, Alfred had made stuffed potatoes with cheese, bacon and onions. And the burgers they had, had been glazed in some beautiful divine sauce of deliciousness. The base of it had been maple and barbecue sauce, and everything else could go to Hell, as far as Matthew’s tastebuds were concerned.
But Iggy wanted Alfred to stay in History. Iggy had always been particularly demanding of Alfred, but as long as Alfred continued to take history, there was never a really big fight. And Matthew had assumed that Alfred was going to ride it out and finish his degree and go to teacher’s college and be a history teacher, just like Iggy had wanted him to. Until they had gone home for Christmas and Alfred offered to make Christmas dinner. Francis encouraged Alfred’s efforts and even offered to be his sous chef. It was supposed to be fun. And then Alfred made the throw-away comment about how he wished that he could do that for forever and Arthur didn’t seem to enjoy that.
What was supposed to be a warm and fun time with family soon turned into a full blown war, which ended with Arthur informing the twins that he would no longer be paying their rent and that they should learn the meaning of money and how you cannot survive on the poor wages of a ‘lowly kitchen worker’.
Alfred grabbed his bags, his leftovers and Matthew, threw them in the car and they drove back to their apartment just off-campus on Christmas night. And that whole way, Matthew wanted to hate Alfred for ruining Christmas. Until Alfred pulled the car over and began to cry against the steering wheel. Then things got less funny.
“Well,” Alfred put his hands nervously on his hips. “How do I look?”
Matthew stared at his brother. Alfred was wearing his Blow Me shirt, with the tightest pair of jeans that
Matthew had ever seen. He was going to make a fat joke, but then the best part of the outfit made an appearance.
“Did you try to draw yourself a tramp stamp?”
“Go big or go home. And we’re poor. So this has to be believable.”
“It makes you look like someone drew a penis going into your butthole.”
“You’re a butthole.”
Author/Artist: finch00
Character(s)/Pairing(s): america, canada, ukraine, estonia, netherlands, uk, france, mentions of prussia, belarus, lithuania, etc / america/ukraine (eventually), canada/netherlands, fruk, others implied/past.
Rating: it varies, but it's by no means g
Warnings: I can't think of any? it's set in a university au. so, warning if you hate universities or something, idk.
Author's Note: Special Halloween update! Have more bro times and the next update will def meet some new faces!
“What do prostitutes wear?” Alfred asked, rifling through his clothing. “I’d do the research, but I don’t want that shit in my browser history.”
“So, you ask me, like I would know anything about prostitutes,” Matthew asked from the doorway. “I’m flattered?”
“Well, I’m just saying. You’re learning French stuff. That shit is riddled with prostitutes.”
The curly-haired blond snorted. “Sorry, I guess I’m sort of useless when it comes to prostitutes.”
Alfred held a shirt up to his chest and turned towards his twin brother. “Does this say ‘Hello. I am temporarily poor as fuck and I will bone the crap out of you if you pay me money’?”
“It’s a picture of a SNES game and it says ‘Blow Me’. I suppose you’re most of the way there.”
Alfred fell back on his bed and sighed. “Mattie, do you think God’s gonna hate on me if I do this?”
“Well, Jesus hung out with a hooker too, right? Can’t be all that bad.”
“Mattie, I’m serious,” Alfred sat up. “I don’t wanna call dads.”
“Well, that’s ‘cause the last time you spoke to Iggy, you told him to, what was it? Oh,” Matthew snapped his
fingers in false-realization. “You told him to ‘get fucked’.”
“He deserved it,” Alfred rolled to face away from his twin.
Matthew didn’t know whose side to take in the ‘I Want to Go to Culinary School and Drop Out of University’ debate. On one hand, he saw that if Alfred was ever excited about anything, it was cooking. And eating. Well. Mostly eating. But Matthew saw how much his brother lit up when dinner came around. And yes, most of the things that Alfred liked to make were burgers and fries and things that may not have been exactly good for you, but it always tasted good and he always made sure to put a spin on things. Just last week, Alfred had made stuffed potatoes with cheese, bacon and onions. And the burgers they had, had been glazed in some beautiful divine sauce of deliciousness. The base of it had been maple and barbecue sauce, and everything else could go to Hell, as far as Matthew’s tastebuds were concerned.
But Iggy wanted Alfred to stay in History. Iggy had always been particularly demanding of Alfred, but as long as Alfred continued to take history, there was never a really big fight. And Matthew had assumed that Alfred was going to ride it out and finish his degree and go to teacher’s college and be a history teacher, just like Iggy had wanted him to. Until they had gone home for Christmas and Alfred offered to make Christmas dinner. Francis encouraged Alfred’s efforts and even offered to be his sous chef. It was supposed to be fun. And then Alfred made the throw-away comment about how he wished that he could do that for forever and Arthur didn’t seem to enjoy that.
What was supposed to be a warm and fun time with family soon turned into a full blown war, which ended with Arthur informing the twins that he would no longer be paying their rent and that they should learn the meaning of money and how you cannot survive on the poor wages of a ‘lowly kitchen worker’.
Alfred grabbed his bags, his leftovers and Matthew, threw them in the car and they drove back to their apartment just off-campus on Christmas night. And that whole way, Matthew wanted to hate Alfred for ruining Christmas. Until Alfred pulled the car over and began to cry against the steering wheel. Then things got less funny.
“Well,” Alfred put his hands nervously on his hips. “How do I look?”
Matthew stared at his brother. Alfred was wearing his Blow Me shirt, with the tightest pair of jeans that
Matthew had ever seen. He was going to make a fat joke, but then the best part of the outfit made an appearance.
“Did you try to draw yourself a tramp stamp?”
“Go big or go home. And we’re poor. So this has to be believable.”
“It makes you look like someone drew a penis going into your butthole.”
“You’re a butthole.”