the apartment, or: how to i learned to forget cooking and love take-out [2/?]
anonymous
December 5 2010, 20:15:48 UTC
Gilbert was a fifth-year senior; that is, it was his fifth year as a senior. He could have been a perfectly capable student had he possessed the motivation and ambitious desire to accomplishment something in this often complicated and convoluted world. That was how Francis put it. But then again, Francis had spent $200,000 dollars to get a B.A. in sociology. He had worked through graduate school and now he was going to get a Ph.D, but that was an awful lot of money for a stinkin' piece of paper and what did he have to show for besides a shitload of fancy language and bookstore discounts? Meanwhile, Antonio dreamed of opening his own coffee shop. All of the Starbucks regulars loved him and told him that if he went his own way, they would follow him.
"Really?" said Antonio, eyes bright with hope and caramel syrup. He had a dispensable charm and a habit of spelling customers' names wrong. They loved him anyway. Francis said it was because he was a European with an accent. Antonio knew most of the regulars by name. One of them was Corrine, a high-school junior who could have made her own coffee at home for thirty cents but bought it for three dollars at Starbucks just so Antonio could spell her name wrong. She was big on international relations and G20 and Antonio thought she was going to be president one day. He said if he were a United States citizen, he would vote for her. That made her laugh but she said she couldn't. She hadn't been born in the States either. Her family immigrated from the Netherlands when she was seven.
"But I'm actually Italian," Corrine said to clarify.
"Do you speak Italian?" asked Antonio, who could understand it but not speak it.
"No, I'm learning Chinese in school."
"Is it hard?"
"I guess," shrugged Corrine, "in class we pretty much just pretend to speak Chinese while the teacher feels sorry for us and gives us an A. It's chill."
"Oh. Ni hao?" he said, which was the only thing he knew how to say.
He said it with all the wrong accents and Corrine tried to correct him: "Ni hao," though she didn't do much better.
Antonio liked talking to his customers and he was good with juggling names and professions in that jumble of introduction while making a chocolate mocha or double espresso. He always got fabulous tips, and he put this money in a fund that would one day be enough to finance his own coffee shop.
*
On the weekdays Francis went to the school's library to do research. His research consisted of looking Intensely Concentrated while accessing blocked sites at the computer labs. The Internet here was free and nobody bothered Ph.D candidates who were obviously very steeped in their in-depth research of pornographic works. It was all a matter of art. Francis had been in school longer than Gilbert and Antonio and by now he had mastered the art of obtaining degrees that would unfortunately not help his prospects in the job market.
He thought about teaching, occasionally. And what could be better than an incredibly well-learned, incredibly handsome Distinguished Professor of Philosophy who was also French? He could teach the young ripe ones at Williams or Swarthmore and eventually become a tenured and respected scholar; or if he wanted a change of scenery he could go out west to Chapman or any of the Claremont Colleges. He had his options open and nothing what his roommates thought of the academic's life was true. He thought these passionate ideas with great fervor and got work done without his ever knowing it.
*
Gilbert called Antonio at noon. "Say, are you working late today?" said Gilbert.
"No, why?"
"We should go surprise Francis at the university. Whadja say?"
"I am currently trying to fend off five middle-aged ladies from Marine League. They keep changing their orders," said Antonio, who sounded a bit sad. "Okay! Okay, just a second," he said to someone else. "Also, there's this new customer. I've never seen him before, he must be new to these parts. And would you believe it? I spelled his name right! On the first try! I was so amazed I almost cried. I'm so happy. Aren't you happy too?"
Re: the apartment, or: how to i learned to forget cooking and love take-out [2/?]
anonymous
December 5 2010, 20:56:43 UTC
This is just adorable. I giggled so hard at parts (falling asleep to noise! spelling names wrong! looking up porn while doing PhD work! ha!). Definitely following this one. :)
OP, swooning
anonymous
December 5 2010, 21:08:14 UTC
Anon... this... THIS!!!
You see, I'm having difficulties, expressing my undying love here in understandable words, as this is just so absolutely AMAZING so far, I can't even believe I'm not dreaming right now.
Not only did my request actually get filled - it is so awesome, too, that I should really consider testing my luck in a casino or something, since it seems to be on a total high.
I already love all of their characterizations. Antonio, the cheerful, happy-go-lucky cute Barista everybody loves (and his habit to spell everybodys name wrong is just soooo adorable!!), Gilbert... oh Gilbert! Five years AS a senior!! xD Genius, really! Also, it's so like him to fall for Francis' trick. Speaking of Francis, the cheating bastard - holy mother of god, do I love him xD He's shaving at the kitchen sink!!! He's got satin bedsheets!!! AND he's French xDD You're right, Francis, everybody loves themselves a sexy French teacher, go for it!
And that couch must be the most awesome piece of furniture ever, if it was owned by Oscar Wilde, two giraffes and had Francis and Gilbert sleep on it xD Oh man, I love your humor in this. It just fits the three of them so perfectly. And I love their relationship and behaviour in general. Those three living together is bound to be a total catastrophe, but the way you described all the shenanigans.. Dude, really! Firstborn, soul or internet? No no, you can have all three. Here, and my heart too! *rips out*
Now I don't have much left to offer you once the next chapter is out, but I'll go and look for some scissors and paint to make you an "AWESOME"-sign. (I'd offer you some cookies too, but... well... England would probably like them.)
Re: the apartment, or: how to i learned to forget cooking and love take-out [2/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 00:20:52 UTC
Isn't it just wonderful when an interesting plot meets a good writer? Two parts and it already has everything a story needs to be made of win, light humor, brilliant characterization, original ideas and a very vivid writing style.
Re: the apartment, or: how to i learned to forget cooking and love take-out [2/?]
anonymous
December 6 2010, 20:10:55 UTC
Consider me hooked on this. It's adorable and quirky and really cute, and I love every single thing about these guys, their relationships and their world views and stories. I can't wait to see more ^^
Say, are there gonna be pairings, or stay gen? It's absolutely perfect as it is, I'm just curious, since you tackled, under all the humour, some concerns about the future that I feel anxiously identificated with
Big congratulations on your Spain, he's the most difficult to write of these three, and I love your take on him ^^
Re: the apartment, or: how to i learned to forget cooking and love take-out [2/?]
anonymous
December 9 2010, 09:58:52 UTC
In the morning, Francis woke up first and when he woke up, Antonio woke up. They both entered the living room expecting Gilbert to be sprawled out uncomfortably. They found him crouched by the wall with his feet wrapped in his sheets and this is how they found out he was an insomniac.
This line made me smile so much my face hurt, and I'm not even sure why. It's little details like this, and the matter-of-fact way you convey them, that makes this fic so lovely. Wonderful work, anon. :')
"Really?" said Antonio, eyes bright with hope and caramel syrup. He had a dispensable charm and a habit of spelling customers' names wrong. They loved him anyway. Francis said it was because he was a European with an accent. Antonio knew most of the regulars by name. One of them was Corrine, a high-school junior who could have made her own coffee at home for thirty cents but bought it for three dollars at Starbucks just so Antonio could spell her name wrong. She was big on international relations and G20 and Antonio thought she was going to be president one day. He said if he were a United States citizen, he would vote for her. That made her laugh but she said she couldn't. She hadn't been born in the States either. Her family immigrated from the Netherlands when she was seven.
"But I'm actually Italian," Corrine said to clarify.
"Do you speak Italian?" asked Antonio, who could understand it but not speak it.
"No, I'm learning Chinese in school."
"Is it hard?"
"I guess," shrugged Corrine, "in class we pretty much just pretend to speak Chinese while the teacher feels sorry for us and gives us an A. It's chill."
"Oh. Ni hao?" he said, which was the only thing he knew how to say.
He said it with all the wrong accents and Corrine tried to correct him: "Ni hao," though she didn't do much better.
Antonio liked talking to his customers and he was good with juggling names and professions in that jumble of introduction while making a chocolate mocha or double espresso. He always got fabulous tips, and he put this money in a fund that would one day be enough to finance his own coffee shop.
*
On the weekdays Francis went to the school's library to do research. His research consisted of looking Intensely Concentrated while accessing blocked sites at the computer labs. The Internet here was free and nobody bothered Ph.D candidates who were obviously very steeped in their in-depth research of pornographic works. It was all a matter of art. Francis had been in school longer than Gilbert and Antonio and by now he had mastered the art of obtaining degrees that would unfortunately not help his prospects in the job market.
He thought about teaching, occasionally. And what could be better than an incredibly well-learned, incredibly handsome Distinguished Professor of Philosophy who was also French? He could teach the young ripe ones at Williams or Swarthmore and eventually become a tenured and respected scholar; or if he wanted a change of scenery he could go out west to Chapman or any of the Claremont Colleges. He had his options open and nothing what his roommates thought of the academic's life was true. He thought these passionate ideas with great fervor and got work done without his ever knowing it.
*
Gilbert called Antonio at noon. "Say, are you working late today?" said Gilbert.
"No, why?"
"We should go surprise Francis at the university. Whadja say?"
"I am currently trying to fend off five middle-aged ladies from Marine League. They keep changing their orders," said Antonio, who sounded a bit sad. "Okay! Okay, just a second," he said to someone else. "Also, there's this new customer. I've never seen him before, he must be new to these parts. And would you believe it? I spelled his name right! On the first try! I was so amazed I almost cried. I'm so happy. Aren't you happy too?"
"Sure, sure," Gilbert said, "if you're happy I'm happy."
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You see, I'm having difficulties, expressing my undying love here in understandable words, as this is just so absolutely AMAZING so far, I can't even believe I'm not dreaming right now.
Not only did my request actually get filled - it is so awesome, too, that I should really consider testing my luck in a casino or something, since it seems to be on a total high.
I already love all of their characterizations. Antonio, the cheerful, happy-go-lucky cute Barista everybody loves (and his habit to spell everybodys name wrong is just soooo adorable!!), Gilbert... oh Gilbert! Five years AS a senior!! xD Genius, really! Also, it's so like him to fall for Francis' trick. Speaking of Francis, the cheating bastard - holy mother of god, do I love him xD He's shaving at the kitchen sink!!! He's got satin bedsheets!!! AND he's French xDD You're right, Francis, everybody loves themselves a sexy French teacher, go for it!
And that couch must be the most awesome piece of furniture ever, if it was owned by Oscar Wilde, two giraffes and had Francis and Gilbert sleep on it xD Oh man, I love your humor in this. It just fits the three of them so perfectly. And I love their relationship and behaviour in general. Those three living together is bound to be a total catastrophe, but the way you described all the shenanigans.. Dude, really! Firstborn, soul or internet? No no, you can have all three. Here, and my heart too!
*rips out*
Now I don't have much left to offer you once the next chapter is out, but I'll go and look for some scissors and paint to make you an "AWESOME"-sign.
(I'd offer you some cookies too, but... well... England would probably like them.)
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Bookmarking and waiting patiently for more.
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I'd bookmarked this for a while thinking of filling too, but I think I like your take much better. Keep it up, anon!
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Say, are there gonna be pairings, or stay gen? It's absolutely perfect as it is, I'm just curious, since you tackled, under all the humour, some concerns about the future that I feel anxiously identificated with
Big congratulations on your Spain, he's the most difficult to write of these three, and I love your take on him ^^
Reply
This line made me smile so much my face hurt, and I'm not even sure why. It's little details like this, and the matter-of-fact way you convey them, that makes this fic so lovely. Wonderful work, anon. :')
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