Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
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It was depressing that, after going trough all this trouble, he still had to eat his lunch alone. This wouldn’t do, like, at all. He would have to be more emphatic, or something, or Arthur wouldn’t get it, and come on, how stupid could someone be, at this rate it would take ages before they could take this to the next level. Or, like, any level at all. Because Arthur was stupid. Alfred was getting back to the meeting room, when he saw Francis and Antonio stalking him again.
“America, come here,” Francis said. His tone made Alfred frown, but he went, crossing his arms:
“What do you want?”
“To make a public service,” Francis said “Listen, my child. Your plans will work much better if you stop this silliness and just compliment his cooking.”
Alfred blushed:
“W-what?”
“Oh, come on now,” Francis’ smile was a little patronizing; “I'm the country of L'Amour. I know these things.”
“But I-”
“Here's what you will do: you'll eat those rocks he bakes, and tell him it tastes good. Then you won’t insult him during the meetings, maybe even agree with something or other, and voilá. You'll be inside his pants before you can say 'thank you, big brother France'.”
“Ah, I don't know,” Antonio said, before Alfred could get over this shock to answer. “I think this situation calls for something more drastic.”
“Yes, cher, but don't you think he has to win Arthur's favor first?”
“But nothing works,” Alfred said, “Not that I'm trying. I still don't know what you're talking about.”
“I'm the country of passion,” Antonio said. “What you need now, Alfred, is to show him how intense your feelings are. So you'll follow him after the meeting-”
“I already tried that.”
“...without saying anything stupid-”
“Hey! I’m not saying anything stupid. For your information, I happen to have a great line to say now, and it involved complimenting him, so there. ”
“Really, now. And what’s the line?”
“Well…” Alfred scratched his head, a little embarrassed. It was weird to say those things to Antonio. It seemed wrong. “I was going to say, um, it was like this, like, I was going to say ‘your shirt is very becoming on you, you know, if I were on you I’d be coming to’.”
Antonio stared, a blank look on his face. Francis frowned:
“I’d be- oh. Right. Mon Dieu, Alfred, why don’t you just go and say ‘hey, you’re hot, wanna have sex?”
“Well…” Alfred blushed. “That one’s on the list too, but I thought it would be kinda lame.”
“Anyway,” Antonio said, a little more forcefully than he had to. “No. Don’t say this. Do what I’m saying. You go after him, and then you'll kiss him. Only not really, you'll get real close, until your lips are almost touching his.”
Alfred was going to protest, but the mental image was too distracting. And tempting. And exciting. There was just one problem:
“He’ll run away.”
Francis raised one eyebrow. Antonio smiled:
“No, he won't. So, you'll get close, and if he pulls back you'll take one step forward, to close the distance between you.”
“... well now that sounds creepy.”
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