Part 1; Your fill has arrived.
anonymous
September 7 2009, 10:38:13 UTC
It was another night out at the bar, perfectly normal for anyone after a meeting. They weren’t a large group of people, and it was perfectly natural for them to want to unwind after a United Nations meeting, being the nations themselves. Francis was flitting between the mildly annoyed and slightly less than sober Arthur, who was being pestered by an all too cheerful and nearly sober Alfred, and Antonio. Antonio was sitting next to Lovino, who for once was a bit cheerful under the influence of a few glasses at the bar. Ivan had Yao cornered, and was talking in what seemed to be a pleased manner. Of course, the Asian nation looked as if he were going to cry into his glass while the giant Russian just sighed happily, seemingly unaware of the smaller man’s distress. There were a few others milling around, but they were beginning to taper off and go their own separate ways. “Ah, Arthur, you cheeks are so beautiful when ze are flushed that way from ze alcohol, mon cher.” Francis crooned one gloved hand gently stroking the Brit’s cheek, his blue eyes smoldering with lust and alcohol. Alfred, meanwhile, just laughed a bit and shook his head over his own glass. He knew the Frenchman and the man he was formerly a colony of had once had something. It bugged him a bit, but that wasn’t something he let get to him. It was the past, and he had no attachment to the Brit anymore. He did, however, decide to say something to distract the blonde’s wandering hands and thoughts as the Frenchman began to make an attempt into Arthur’s pants. “Hey, Francis! Y’know, I think Matthew’s all alone back home. I remember him saying something about missing you a lot, and wondered if I could tell you to go visit him. He also said something about missing your visits to Nova Scotia. What does he mean by that, Francis?” Alfred asked as he feigned innocence in regards to his brother’s sensitive ahoge. Francis’ eyes lit up a bit at the mention of the American’s brother, Matthew. He hadn’t been to see the boy in quite a while, and he was more intrigued by the idea of a willing and supple young Canadian waiting for him. He cast a look down at the nearly unresponsive Brit, wondering if perhaps the other was ill again. It was more likely he was too drunk to really care. “Ah, well…zat is…Hm. Zhen, perhaps, you would be willing to call a cab for moi, Alfred?” Francis slurred softly, knowing better than to drive in his current state of inebriation. Alfred felt himself grin a bit at the man’s willingness to leave Arthur for Matthew. He took out a few bills and helped the stumbling Frenchman to the door, calling him a cab. Francis would be alright, and would have no trouble reaching his brother’s house in Canada, he was sure of it. Wiping his hands together, as if cleaning them after playing with something dirty, Alfred whistled his national anthem and looked up at the sky. It had gotten dark quick, and he wondered just how long they’d all been at the bar. “Ah, Alfred, mi amigo. Me and Lovinito are gonna head home now. We wanted to make sure you knew we were going to be safe. After all, you seem to be checking up on how people are getting home,” The voice coming from right behind the tall blonde slurred, thick with a Spanish accent. Alfred turned to look over at the speaker, and gave the Spaniard and the Italian a wide grin. Lovino was draped over Antonio’s shoulders, looking a bit disoriented with flushed cheeks. Meanwhile, Antonio just grinned and gripped the Italian’s waist, holding the man to him. “No problem. I hope you get home safely. Um, you’ll be able to take care of him, right? He looks pretty wasted.” Alfred said with a grin and a slight chuckle at the deepening of Lovino’s blush. The Spaniard nodded and walked out, Alfred checking to see he hailed a cab. Once he was sure they’d be alright, he waved once and continued on his way back to his seat. He sat back down next to Arthur, who was most likely the only one who’d be there before long. The older nation was drunk off his feet; for all that he seemed sober and sullen.
“Ah, Arthur, you cheeks are so beautiful when ze are flushed that way from ze alcohol, mon cher.” Francis crooned one gloved hand gently stroking the Brit’s cheek, his blue eyes smoldering with lust and alcohol.
Alfred, meanwhile, just laughed a bit and shook his head over his own glass. He knew the Frenchman and the man he was formerly a colony of had once had something. It bugged him a bit, but that wasn’t something he let get to him. It was the past, and he had no attachment to the Brit anymore. He did, however, decide to say something to distract the blonde’s wandering hands and thoughts as the Frenchman began to make an attempt into Arthur’s pants.
“Hey, Francis! Y’know, I think Matthew’s all alone back home. I remember him saying something about missing you a lot, and wondered if I could tell you to go visit him. He also said something about missing your visits to Nova Scotia. What does he mean by that, Francis?” Alfred asked as he feigned innocence in regards to his brother’s sensitive ahoge.
Francis’ eyes lit up a bit at the mention of the American’s brother, Matthew. He hadn’t been to see the boy in quite a while, and he was more intrigued by the idea of a willing and supple young Canadian waiting for him. He cast a look down at the nearly unresponsive Brit, wondering if perhaps the other was ill again. It was more likely he was too drunk to really care.
“Ah, well…zat is…Hm. Zhen, perhaps, you would be willing to call a cab for moi, Alfred?” Francis slurred softly, knowing better than to drive in his current state of inebriation.
Alfred felt himself grin a bit at the man’s willingness to leave Arthur for Matthew. He took out a few bills and helped the stumbling Frenchman to the door, calling him a cab. Francis would be alright, and would have no trouble reaching his brother’s house in Canada, he was sure of it. Wiping his hands together, as if cleaning them after playing with something dirty, Alfred whistled his national anthem and looked up at the sky. It had gotten dark quick, and he wondered just how long they’d all been at the bar.
“Ah, Alfred, mi amigo. Me and Lovinito are gonna head home now. We wanted to make sure you knew we were going to be safe. After all, you seem to be checking up on how people are getting home,” The voice coming from right behind the tall blonde slurred, thick with a Spanish accent.
Alfred turned to look over at the speaker, and gave the Spaniard and the Italian a wide grin. Lovino was draped over Antonio’s shoulders, looking a bit disoriented with flushed cheeks. Meanwhile, Antonio just grinned and gripped the Italian’s waist, holding the man to him.
“No problem. I hope you get home safely. Um, you’ll be able to take care of him, right? He looks pretty wasted.” Alfred said with a grin and a slight chuckle at the deepening of Lovino’s blush.
The Spaniard nodded and walked out, Alfred checking to see he hailed a cab. Once he was sure they’d be alright, he waved once and continued on his way back to his seat. He sat back down next to Arthur, who was most likely the only one who’d be there before long. The older nation was drunk off his feet; for all that he seemed sober and sullen.
Reply
Leave a comment