US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
November 17 2010, 11:30:17 UTC
All nations are gathered together, not for a meeting, but for something akin to either a christmas party or end of year party. Either way, they are all together in a huge function room.
America and England are in an established relationship, but no one else knows, which has been bothering America. He's so happy he wants to shout it from the rooftops and he wants everyone to know and so he decides to take matters into his own hands by going up for karaoke, and singing "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You" (That Bryan Adams song) and directing it all at Arthur. At first Arthur is mortified, but eventually he softens up.
(I have no idea, but this came into my head a good while ago and i've been unable to shake it off since....)
Bonus 1 - Every time he sings the title of the song, he points directly at Arthur, occasionally throwing an obscene thrust in his direction.
Bonus 2 - During his rendition he changes the lyrics from "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You" to either "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is England" or The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is "Arthur"....or both!
Bonus 3 - Once he's finished he marches straight over to England hoists him into a fire-mans lift and marches straight out of the room with him.
Re: US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
November 30 2010, 13:47:29 UTC
Here it is! I've included a few other minor pairings - hope that's okay :) You can attribute their "togetherness" to the alcohol if you don't like them...
Arthur Kirkland had never particularly enjoyed the annual international Christmas party for three reasons. The first was that all the other nations would be there. The second was that despite the fact that each nation was asked to donate a part of their country’s traditional Christmas dish, each year, without fail, he was sent a note, care of Ludwig, “kindly” requesting that he refrained from doing this, due to the fact that several years back his pudding in brandy sauce (which was only a little bit burnt - and well-done food never did anybody any harm) had induced violent projectile vomiting in Feliciano.
It was probably the silly little boy’s fault, Arthur thought. Probably ate too much of the stuff. Probably the first-class brandy he’d doused the food in was too rich for the childish nation’s tastes. Probably...
The third reason Arthur hated the party so was the fact that it consistently ended with him nursing a terrible hangover the following morning; without fail. Ludwig had suggested, more than once, that he simply didn’t drink so much - but alcohol was really the only way Arthur could make the stupid, pointless, waste-of-time-and-resources event mildly bearable.
This year, however, Arthur had a fourth reason - a new reason - for dreading the upcoming event so much. Several months ago, shortly after Alfred F. Jones’ bloody birthday, Arthur and his former charge had (finally, Arthur thought, a tiny smile coming to his lips, finally) become an item. Ever since he’d visited the younger man many, many years previously, only to find the American outrageously tall, ridiculously handsome, and most definitely all grown up, he had developed rather confusing and slightly upsetting feelings towards him; feelings he had been so certain would never in a million years be reciprocated.
Yet somehow, for some inexplicable reason Arthur could not fathom, his former colony felt exactly the same. And so their true feelings towards one another had played out that warm summer night beneath the firework-littered sky. In his true, dignified fashion, Arthur tried to remain sensible and cautious about the whole thing. Their even more special “special relationship,” he told his now boyfriend firmly, could not possibly go public. It was vital that they remained professional and discreet about the whole thing so as not to disrupt the delicate balance of global relations.
Naturally, the brash, heart-on-his-sleeve American was not particularly impressed by the older man’s insistence that their relationship remained a secret. He loved Arthur, he frequently insisted, he was overjoyed at having such an “awesome, smart, sexy-ass boyfriend,” and wanted to scream his happiness from the rooftops. Arthur lived in constant fear that one day Alfred might literally do that.
He was particularly fearful about Alfred outing them as a couple at this blasted party thing; after all, the American thrived on the spotlight being on him; every other nation would be there; and no doubt he would think of the situation as highly romantic, rather than highly embarrassing. But Alfred did not drop any hints during the week leading up to the party; nor did he ask Arthur to reconsider going public; in fact, all he did in relation to the event was tease his boyfriend about the fact that he’d been asked, yet again, not to bring any food to the celebration. Arthur retaliated by sulking and refusing to speak to the younger man for several hours, and his fears about Alfred announcing their relationship to the world were forgotten.
The party rolled around again, irritatingly quickly, the Englishman thought to himself, and, as predicted, he did not enjoy it one bit. In the first twenty minutes alone, he was laughed at by just about every country in the huge function room for his forty-second food banishment rule in a row; insulted by Peter (who had said that little pest could come anyway?) and abandoned by Alfred, who had vanished almost at once after disappearing to “have a natter,” he said, in an insultingly bad English accent.
Re: US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
November 30 2010, 13:48:25 UTC
This explained exactly why, about an hour after arriving (late), Arthur Kirkland was sat alone at a small table comfortingly close to the bar, throwing back his thousandth glass of champagne. After draining it, he set it back down on the table top, and sighed, casting his gaze about the room. It seemed that everybody else was having fun and enjoying themselves with someone else - or at least they were with someone else, he mentally corrected himself, as across the room Antonio and Lovi began to shout at one another. The Spaniard kept trying to take the other man’s hand, but Lovi was refusing to let him, pouting and stamping his foot in a very childish manner. Even so, the older man was still laughing, and even the Italian couldn’t keep the corners of his lips from twitching upwards as Antonio patiently stroked his hand again and again.
Bloody hell, Arthur thought miserably, resting the side of his head on the palm of one hand, Even those idiots are happier than me.
Francis was, unsurprisingly, holding a glass of red wine in one hand, and a very attractive young blond man Arthur thought he vaguely recognised in the other. To the Brit’s surprise, said young man did not look frightened, sickened, or infuriated - instead, he looked happy to be with the Frenchman, and even blushed and beamed in appreciation when Francis nuzzled his neck and licked his ear.
Disgusting, thought Arthur.
His eyes continued to wander around the room. Feliks had one arm around Toris and was grinning widely while he chattered away happily, probably about ponies. The Lithuanian’s eyes were slightly glazed over, but every time he looked at the other man he smiled too, and eventually shut his partner up by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Arthur thought of Alfred, and scowled.
Close to Feliks and Toris, Feliciano was bouncing in a small circle around Ludwig, squealing the same word repeatedly in excitement. Arthur couldn’t quite hear what it was, but from the look on the German’s face, Feliciano had been saying it, and jumping up and down, for some time now. Ludwig’s right eye twitched, and he appeared to bite the inside of his cheek. Arthur shook his head. He knew exactly how the blond man was feeling.
He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see Natalya practically breathing fire as she watched her brother chattering nine to the dozen in Raivis’ ear whilst pressing down on his head. The little Latvian was shaking terribly, but every so often would manage a wide smile and a nod, which seemed to keep the older man happy. Arthur was rather appalled by the fact that every so often the Russian would make a terribly obscene gesture with his long, metal pipe at the child (why had Ivan been allowed to bring the pipe, Arthur wondered, but he’d been told not to bring food? Then again, he wouldn’t want to tell that lunatic what he could and couldn’t do.)
Turning away from the dysfunctional madness, Arthur got to his feet and headed towards the bar. Francis and his latest toy were standing just a little to the left of there now; Francis’ hand was resting firmly on the man’s backside, his fingers giving a quick squeeze every now and again.
Hang on...Arthur narrowed his eyes at the pair, his mouth dropping open. Was that...was that Alfred? He took a step closer, his stomach clenching sickeningly.
Francis laughed out loud, and ran a hand through Alfred’s hair.
“Oh, Matthieu, mon petit mignon, vous êtes trop doux!”
Wait...Arthur stopped. Matthew? Matthew! Poor Matthew? With that promiscuous, froggy, twat?
Re: US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
November 30 2010, 13:49:43 UTC
This was not right. Arthur changed course, balling his hands into fists. Matthew was Alfred’s brother, and the Englishman tended to view him as a sort of son or younger brother who needed careful protection from the outside world; when he remembered the quiet younger man existed.
He had just reached the pair, and was just about to ask Francis what the hell he thought he was doing, when suddenly, all the lights went out.
Someone screamed, and at his side, Arthur could hear the two mismatched lovers conversing in rapid French.
The lights flickered back on again, though only at the front of the room. He heard Yao say something about having a look at the fuse box - but then thunderously loud music flooded the room, and one light, brighter and sharper than the rest was focused on large table before them all, upon which stood -
Arthur covered his eyes momentarily. Oh God, no.
The man was wearing a fucking suit.And - oh, Lord - holding a microphone. What, in the name of Jesus, was going on?
Obnoxious, American-sounding music pounded through the room. He glanced around, cringing a little at the sight of Feliciano clapping his hands with excitement, trying to get a scarlet-faced Ludwig to dance with him.
“Well I don’t look good in no Armani suits,” Alfred sang, running his hand down his own suit, pulling it open to reveal a crisp white shirt and black tie beneath it. Arthur’s heart began to pound, and not just at the terrible grammer.
“No Gucci shoes or designer boots,” the American continued, kicking his leg up to reveal a shiny black pair of shoes, “I’ve tried the latest lines from A to Z, but there’s only one thing that looks good on me!”
Bloody hell. He was gyrating his bloody hips.
“The only thing I want,” Alfred continued, prancing around on top of the table, “the only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is you!” With this, he pointed straight at Arthur and winked, grinning and showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth.
Francis began to cheer and whistle.
Arthur wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“I’m not satisfied with Versace style -”
Oh good Lord, there was more.
“Put those leather pants in the circular file -” Alfred pulled down the waistband of his trousers a little, revealing - Arthur’s mouth was suddenly very dry. Was that a thin strip of black leather he saw?
Francis actually screamed.
“Sometimes I think I might be lookin’ good, but there’s only one thing that fits like it should!” These lines were punctuated with a fierce pelvic thrust in Arthur’s direction.
Re: US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
November 30 2010, 13:50:24 UTC
“The only thing I want, yeah...the only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is Arthur!”
Catcalls and whoops filled the room. Arthur could not move.
“Yeah it’s you! It could only be you! Nobody else will ever do! Yeah, baby, it’s you I stick to, yeah we stick like glue!” Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at such stupid lyrics, but embarrassment rooted him to the spot; prevented even the smallest of movements.
On his makeshift stage, Alfred continued to strut and sing.
“The only thing I want, yeah...the only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is England!” He thrust his hips towards his boyfriend again and licked his lips lewdly as he leapt down to the floor.
Oh God, thought Arthur, Oh God.
“The only thing I want, yeah,” Alfred sang, sashaying towards the smaller blond, “The only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is you!” Again he pointed at Arthur, now just three feet from him.
“The only thing that looks good on me -” He was stood right in front of him now - “is you!” Again his hips jerked. Alfred put his face right up close to his boyfriend’s, apparently not noticing, or not caring about the colour of it. “Oh, you...yeah, yeah, you! The only thing that looks good on me -”
He threw the microphone away behind him, grabbed Arthur around the hips and pulled him up to straddle his pelvis. Arthur was frozen; he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do a thing but stare at the American man as he continued to sway and thrust, right into Arthur’s crotch.
“Is you,” Alfred finished, planted a ridiculously passionate kiss on his lover’s lips, then threw him over one shoulder and carried him from the room as though he weighed nothing at all.
The door slammed shut.
Francis’ face was flushed and he was beaming like nothing else. “Hey, Matthieu...the only theeng -”
lmfao, so excited i just accidentally de-anoned myself. Let us pretend no one saw that. ||ORZ.
OH MY WORD THIS IS AMAZING! This is exactly what i wanted and more! I've laughed so hard throughout this. Author!Anon, you are a genius! Marry me.
It is utterly hilarious (and oh my you capture the British accent and our sense of humour perfectly, all the bloodys and then this sentence "Oh good Lord, there was more." Awesome!) I've re-read it a good number of times and each time i am still giggling like an idiot. THANK YOU ♥
I love all the extra bits you slotted in too, the fact that Arthur is banned from bringing food to the party, all the other pairings and oh god all of Alfred's thrusting. /dead.
Re: US/UK - The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is Arthur!
anonymous
December 5 2010, 20:30:47 UTC
Author anon! you are amazing, this made me laugh so much, specially at Francis XD And Arthur keeps mistaking Canada for America lol. This kept me squealing too. Hehe Arthur couldn't move! how cute x3
America and England are in an established relationship, but no one else knows, which has been bothering America. He's so happy he wants to shout it from the rooftops and he wants everyone to know and so he decides to take matters into his own hands by going up for karaoke, and singing "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You" (That Bryan Adams song) and directing it all at Arthur. At first Arthur is mortified, but eventually he softens up.
(I have no idea, but this came into my head a good while ago and i've been unable to shake it off since....)
Bonus 1 - Every time he sings the title of the song, he points directly at Arthur, occasionally throwing an obscene thrust in his direction.
Bonus 2 - During his rendition he changes the lyrics from "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is You" to either "The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is England" or The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me Is "Arthur"....or both!
Bonus 3 - Once he's finished he marches straight over to England hoists him into a fire-mans lift and marches straight out of the room with him.
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Arthur Kirkland had never particularly enjoyed the annual international Christmas party for three reasons. The first was that all the other nations would be there. The second was that despite the fact that each nation was asked to donate a part of their country’s traditional Christmas dish, each year, without fail, he was sent a note, care of Ludwig, “kindly” requesting that he refrained from doing this, due to the fact that several years back his pudding in brandy sauce (which was only a little bit burnt - and well-done food never did anybody any harm) had induced violent projectile vomiting in Feliciano.
It was probably the silly little boy’s fault, Arthur thought. Probably ate too much of the stuff. Probably the first-class brandy he’d doused the food in was too rich for the childish nation’s tastes. Probably...
The third reason Arthur hated the party so was the fact that it consistently ended with him nursing a terrible hangover the following morning; without fail. Ludwig had suggested, more than once, that he simply didn’t drink so much - but alcohol was really the only way Arthur could make the stupid, pointless, waste-of-time-and-resources event mildly bearable.
This year, however, Arthur had a fourth reason - a new reason - for dreading the upcoming event so much. Several months ago, shortly after Alfred F. Jones’ bloody birthday, Arthur and his former charge had (finally, Arthur thought, a tiny smile coming to his lips, finally) become an item. Ever since he’d visited the younger man many, many years previously, only to find the American outrageously tall, ridiculously handsome, and most definitely all grown up, he had developed rather confusing and slightly upsetting feelings towards him; feelings he had been so certain would never in a million years be reciprocated.
Yet somehow, for some inexplicable reason Arthur could not fathom, his former colony felt exactly the same. And so their true feelings towards one another had played out that warm summer night beneath the firework-littered sky.
In his true, dignified fashion, Arthur tried to remain sensible and cautious about the whole thing. Their even more special “special relationship,” he told his now boyfriend firmly, could not possibly go public. It was vital that they remained professional and discreet about the whole thing so as not to disrupt the delicate balance of global relations.
Naturally, the brash, heart-on-his-sleeve American was not particularly impressed by the older man’s insistence that their relationship remained a secret. He loved Arthur, he frequently insisted, he was overjoyed at having such an “awesome, smart, sexy-ass boyfriend,” and wanted to scream his happiness from the rooftops. Arthur lived in constant fear that one day Alfred might literally do that.
He was particularly fearful about Alfred outing them as a couple at this blasted party thing; after all, the American thrived on the spotlight being on him; every other nation would be there; and no doubt he would think of the situation as highly romantic, rather than highly embarrassing. But Alfred did not drop any hints during the week leading up to the party; nor did he ask Arthur to reconsider going public; in fact, all he did in relation to the event was tease his boyfriend about the fact that he’d been asked, yet again, not to bring any food to the celebration. Arthur retaliated by sulking and refusing to speak to the younger man for several hours, and his fears about Alfred announcing their relationship to the world were forgotten.
The party rolled around again, irritatingly quickly, the Englishman thought to himself, and, as predicted, he did not enjoy it one bit. In the first twenty minutes alone, he was laughed at by just about every country in the huge function room for his forty-second food banishment rule in a row; insulted by Peter (who had said that little pest could come anyway?) and abandoned by Alfred, who had vanished almost at once after disappearing to “have a natter,” he said, in an insultingly bad English accent.
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Bloody hell, Arthur thought miserably, resting the side of his head on the palm of one hand, Even those idiots are happier than me.
Francis was, unsurprisingly, holding a glass of red wine in one hand, and a very attractive young blond man Arthur thought he vaguely recognised in the other. To the Brit’s surprise, said young man did not look frightened, sickened, or infuriated - instead, he looked happy to be with the Frenchman, and even blushed and beamed in appreciation when Francis nuzzled his neck and licked his ear.
Disgusting, thought Arthur.
His eyes continued to wander around the room. Feliks had one arm around Toris and was grinning widely while he chattered away happily, probably about ponies. The Lithuanian’s eyes were slightly glazed over, but every time he looked at the other man he smiled too, and eventually shut his partner up by pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Arthur thought of Alfred, and scowled.
Close to Feliks and Toris, Feliciano was bouncing in a small circle around Ludwig, squealing the same word repeatedly in excitement. Arthur couldn’t quite hear what it was, but from the look on the German’s face, Feliciano had been saying it, and jumping up and down, for some time now. Ludwig’s right eye twitched, and he appeared to bite the inside of his cheek. Arthur shook his head. He knew exactly how the blond man was feeling.
He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see Natalya practically breathing fire as she watched her brother chattering nine to the dozen in Raivis’ ear whilst pressing down on his head. The little Latvian was shaking terribly, but every so often would manage a wide smile and a nod, which seemed to keep the older man happy. Arthur was rather appalled by the fact that every so often the Russian would make a terribly obscene gesture with his long, metal pipe at the child (why had Ivan been allowed to bring the pipe, Arthur wondered, but he’d been told not to bring food? Then again, he wouldn’t want to tell that lunatic what he could and couldn’t do.)
Turning away from the dysfunctional madness, Arthur got to his feet and headed towards the bar. Francis and his latest toy were standing just a little to the left of there now; Francis’ hand was resting firmly on the man’s backside, his fingers giving a quick squeeze every now and again.
Hang on...Arthur narrowed his eyes at the pair, his mouth dropping open. Was that...was that Alfred? He took a step closer, his stomach clenching sickeningly.
Francis laughed out loud, and ran a hand through Alfred’s hair.
“Oh, Matthieu, mon petit mignon, vous êtes trop doux!”
Wait...Arthur stopped. Matthew? Matthew! Poor Matthew? With that promiscuous, froggy, twat?
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He had just reached the pair, and was just about to ask Francis what the hell he thought he was doing, when suddenly, all the lights went out.
Someone screamed, and at his side, Arthur could hear the two mismatched lovers conversing in rapid French.
The lights flickered back on again, though only at the front of the room. He heard Yao say something about having a look at the fuse box - but then thunderously loud music flooded the room, and one light, brighter and sharper than the rest was focused on large table before them all, upon which stood -
Arthur covered his eyes momentarily. Oh God, no.
The man was wearing a fucking suit.And - oh, Lord - holding a microphone. What, in the name of Jesus, was going on?
Obnoxious, American-sounding music pounded through the room. He glanced around, cringing a little at the sight of Feliciano clapping his hands with excitement, trying to get a scarlet-faced Ludwig to dance with him.
“Well I don’t look good in no Armani suits,” Alfred sang, running his hand down his own suit, pulling it open to reveal a crisp white shirt and black tie beneath it. Arthur’s heart began to pound, and not just at the terrible grammer.
“No Gucci shoes or designer boots,” the American continued, kicking his leg up to reveal a shiny black pair of shoes, “I’ve tried the latest lines from A to Z, but there’s only one thing that looks good on me!”
Bloody hell. He was gyrating his bloody hips.
“The only thing I want,” Alfred continued, prancing around on top of the table, “the only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is you!” With this, he pointed straight at Arthur and winked, grinning and showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth.
Francis began to cheer and whistle.
Arthur wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“I’m not satisfied with Versace style -”
Oh good Lord, there was more.
“Put those leather pants in the circular file -” Alfred pulled down the waistband of his trousers a little, revealing - Arthur’s mouth was suddenly very dry. Was that a thin strip of black leather he saw?
Francis actually screamed.
“Sometimes I think I might be lookin’ good, but there’s only one thing that fits like it should!” These lines were punctuated with a fierce pelvic thrust in Arthur’s direction.
Reply
Catcalls and whoops filled the room. Arthur could not move.
“Yeah it’s you! It could only be you! Nobody else will ever do! Yeah, baby, it’s you I stick to, yeah we stick like glue!”
Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at such stupid lyrics, but embarrassment rooted him to the spot; prevented even the smallest of movements.
On his makeshift stage, Alfred continued to strut and sing.
“The only thing I want, yeah...the only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is England!” He thrust his hips towards his boyfriend again and licked his lips lewdly as he leapt down to the floor.
Oh God, thought Arthur, Oh God.
“The only thing I want, yeah,” Alfred sang, sashaying towards the smaller blond, “The only thing I need...the only thing I choose, yeah...the only thing that looks good on me - is you!” Again he pointed at Arthur, now just three feet from him.
“The only thing that looks good on me -” He was stood right in front of him now - “is you!” Again his hips jerked. Alfred put his face right up close to his boyfriend’s, apparently not noticing, or not caring about the colour of it. “Oh, you...yeah, yeah, you! The only thing that looks good on me -”
He threw the microphone away behind him, grabbed Arthur around the hips and pulled him up to straddle his pelvis. Arthur was frozen; he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do a thing but stare at the American man as he continued to sway and thrust, right into Arthur’s crotch.
“Is you,” Alfred finished, planted a ridiculously passionate kiss on his lover’s lips, then threw him over one shoulder and carried him from the room as though he weighed nothing at all.
The door slammed shut.
Francis’ face was flushed and he was beaming like nothing else. “Hey, Matthieu...the only theeng -”
“That’s quite enough, thank you,” said Ludwig.
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-incoherent with laughter-
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Wow.
DUDE THAT WAS FREAKIN' AMAZING OH WOW. ./DIES
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OH MY WORD THIS IS AMAZING! This is exactly what i wanted and more! I've laughed so hard throughout this. Author!Anon, you are a genius! Marry me.
It is utterly hilarious (and oh my you capture the British accent and our sense of humour perfectly, all the bloodys and then this sentence "Oh good Lord, there was more." Awesome!) I've re-read it a good number of times and each time i am still giggling like an idiot. THANK YOU ♥
I love all the extra bits you slotted in too, the fact that Arthur is banned from bringing food to the party, all the other pairings and oh god all of Alfred's thrusting. /dead.
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Glad you liked! And yeah, I'll marry you. Why not?
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HUZZAH! I has me a new wifey~^^
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And Arthur keeps mistaking Canada for America lol.
This kept me squealing too. Hehe Arthur couldn't move! how cute x3
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