Helen And Paris (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 02:54:10 UTC
"No. I'm not doing this," Alfred muttered, and tried to look anywhere but the near-naked form of his infuriatingly British, intoxicatingly French neighbour. Unfortunately, the candle light rather redirected these attempts back to Matthew, who was looking at him with a wicked grin of amusement.
"Not even for Lafayette?" Francis said, smile fading slightly. Alfred's resolve wavered, and he almost recanted. Then he saw the silver crucifix around Matthew's neck, and shook his head, going red with indignation.
"No, not even for Lafayette. Not with that wanton Catholic Brit," he muttered. "Why don't you do it?"
"I'm too tall to be his Helen. I'll look out of proportion," Francis said disappointed. "Please Alfred, you're just the right size. You two are made for each other."
Alfred glared. He had thought that as well, but the ensuing war that had resulted from him acting on it had cured him of the belief.
But then he saw Matthew, lit only by the candle light and smiling at him, head supported by his palm as he examined him with such shamelessness that Alfred remembered why he had gone to war for this same wanton not so long ago.
"Be a sport, Alfred. You owe Francis, anyhow. Aren't your Puritan sensibilities relieved that it is something as innocent as posing for a painting?" Matthew reasoned in a low cajoling tone. Alfred coughed, and turned red again before clenching his fists and reaching a decision.
"All right," he muttered, and winced as his former father figure jumped up and down in excitement and kissed him, hitting him on the nose when presumably he was aiming for his lips. "You're so embarrassing, Francis..."
"If Monsieur will take off his clothes," the artist said, adeptly rescuing Alfred from Francis's incredible excitement.
Alfred smiled at the man, if only because he sensed that Monsieur David wasn't too long for this world, and started to unbutton his simple black coat that had been sneered at by the fashionable of Paris as he walked down the streets. He couldn't help it if he had no time for such extravagances when at home he was a farmer and a simple man, like Franklin had told him to be. He put his strength towards good things, not these frivolities that Francis delighted in indulging him.
"Ah, quelle dommage," David said with an appreciative smile as Alfred stood there, fully disrobed and decent only by virtue of the long drape of cloth he'd been given by Francis. "You say he is a farmer, Monsieur Bonnefoy?"
"Among other things."
"Quelle dommage," David repeated. "Monsieur, would you kindly recline by Monsieur Despre?"
Alfred did so, muttering, "When did your surname change to Despre?"
"Do you think I'm going to run around as Matthew Williams in Paris, Alfred? They still don't like Englishmen here, you know. Just Americans," Matthew said, and on David's instruction, linked his arm with Alfred's.
"Well, you could've been American, if you wanted..."
"Let's not put treasonous thoughts in my head, dear. Arthur is going to cane me when he finds out I've been in Paris sitting for an antique picture," Matthew smiled. With the British clip in his voice, Alfred couldn't help but notice that he pronounced 'antique' as 'antic'. "Last he needs to know is that I was with you as well."
He pulled Alfred closer to him, as though he were about to tell him something confidential.
Helen And Paris (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 02:54:51 UTC
"Francis, what is the purpose of this painting?" Alfred asked suddenly, trying to keep his mind off the fact that Matthew was caressing him, one hand splayed possessively across his arm, and the other curled in his hair that Alfred had let grow since he'd emerged from New Orleans to find out that the war was over. "For whom has it been commissioned?"
"There is no commission," Francis said. "And there is no purpose. Monsieur David has decided he would very much like a painting for himself. Art for art's sake."
"That's a strange notion," Matthew laughed.
"Yes. And a revolutionary one, mon chou. By keeping this painting as his, Monsieur David places himself among the pantheon of great leaders he has painted for," Francis said softly. "Napoleon, Le Comte D'Artois, the King himself, the Committee, and now Jacques-Louis David."
"It's still seems so odd just to make art for one's own edification," Alfred murmured, and frowned as Matthew had him lay down flush beside him, looking down at him with those smiling violet eyes.
"Parfait," Monsieur David said from behind the canvas, and Alfred's fate was sealed.
Re: Helen And Paris (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 03:36:23 UTC
Authoranon, this is a gorgeous fill. Truly. There's something so alluring about the way you write Matthew and Alfred's interaction. I hope you will see this story to the end.
On a side note, something in this fill piques my memory...Have you written fanfiction for Hetalia before unanonymously?
Re: Helen And Paris (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 04:10:56 UTC
Omgosh if I'm wrong, I'm going to be so embarrassed -is already blushing- and I'm sorry ahead of time if I've confused your genius with that of another, but by any chance, did you write any stories on ff.net that involved Canada as a bratty ghost, victim of a lobotomy, and with cannibalistic tendencies among others? Its just your use of the name Despre that makes me wonder...-hides in a corner-
Re: Helen And Paris (2/?)
anonymous
January 5 2011, 20:29:58 UTC
-headdesk- It appears I really can't distinguish between what's canon and what's not anymore. Yup, that's all me, though usually I'm not so lazy that I can't give Mattie's surname an accent...
OP rubs chin intrigued
anonymous
January 5 2011, 03:53:36 UTC
Hmmm...Matthew is getting handsy...verrrry interessssting! Seems as though he's pretty eager to work out all that awful repression from Alfred(I can smell the sexual tension burning through the screen!).
I like your plan here too, that David is making a private work for himself. Again very interesting and actually very believable. I mean all artists paint for their own purposes as much as they do for comissions.
Very well written so far (You've really got the characters down pact, considering their time periods) and I can't wait to read more! Canada referring to America as "dear" just swept me off my feet!
Re: OP rubs chin intrigued
anonymous
January 5 2011, 04:01:10 UTC
That horrible repression of Alfred's. I have a kink about the size of the Grand Canyon for Puritan!Alfred (or Goodman Jones as I refer to him when I'm in my Am.Hist. mode -shot-). It's not that obvious, is it?
"Not even for Lafayette?" Francis said, smile fading slightly. Alfred's resolve wavered, and he almost recanted. Then he saw the silver crucifix around Matthew's neck, and shook his head, going red with indignation.
"No, not even for Lafayette. Not with that wanton Catholic Brit," he muttered. "Why don't you do it?"
"I'm too tall to be his Helen. I'll look out of proportion," Francis said disappointed. "Please Alfred, you're just the right size. You two are made for each other."
Alfred glared. He had thought that as well, but the ensuing war that had resulted from him acting on it had cured him of the belief.
But then he saw Matthew, lit only by the candle light and smiling at him, head supported by his palm as he examined him with such shamelessness that Alfred remembered why he had gone to war for this same wanton not so long ago.
"Be a sport, Alfred. You owe Francis, anyhow. Aren't your Puritan sensibilities relieved that it is something as innocent as posing for a painting?" Matthew reasoned in a low cajoling tone. Alfred coughed, and turned red again before clenching his fists and reaching a decision.
"All right," he muttered, and winced as his former father figure jumped up and down in excitement and kissed him, hitting him on the nose when presumably he was aiming for his lips. "You're so embarrassing, Francis..."
"If Monsieur will take off his clothes," the artist said, adeptly rescuing Alfred from Francis's incredible excitement.
Alfred smiled at the man, if only because he sensed that Monsieur David wasn't too long for this world, and started to unbutton his simple black coat that had been sneered at by the fashionable of Paris as he walked down the streets. He couldn't help it if he had no time for such extravagances when at home he was a farmer and a simple man, like Franklin had told him to be. He put his strength towards good things, not these frivolities that Francis delighted in indulging him.
"Ah, quelle dommage," David said with an appreciative smile as Alfred stood there, fully disrobed and decent only by virtue of the long drape of cloth he'd been given by Francis. "You say he is a farmer, Monsieur Bonnefoy?"
"Among other things."
"Quelle dommage," David repeated. "Monsieur, would you kindly recline by Monsieur Despre?"
Alfred did so, muttering, "When did your surname change to Despre?"
"Do you think I'm going to run around as Matthew Williams in Paris, Alfred? They still don't like Englishmen here, you know. Just Americans," Matthew said, and on David's instruction, linked his arm with Alfred's.
"Well, you could've been American, if you wanted..."
"Let's not put treasonous thoughts in my head, dear. Arthur is going to cane me when he finds out I've been in Paris sitting for an antique picture," Matthew smiled. With the British clip in his voice, Alfred couldn't help but notice that he pronounced 'antique' as 'antic'. "Last he needs to know is that I was with you as well."
He pulled Alfred closer to him, as though he were about to tell him something confidential.
"Ah, tres bien. Merci, Monsieur."
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"Francis, what is the purpose of this painting?" Alfred asked suddenly, trying to keep his mind off the fact that Matthew was caressing him, one hand splayed possessively across his arm, and the other curled in his hair that Alfred had let grow since he'd emerged from New Orleans to find out that the war was over. "For whom has it been commissioned?"
"There is no commission," Francis said. "And there is no purpose. Monsieur David has decided he would very much like a painting for himself. Art for art's sake."
"That's a strange notion," Matthew laughed.
"Yes. And a revolutionary one, mon chou. By keeping this painting as his, Monsieur David places himself among the pantheon of great leaders he has painted for," Francis said softly. "Napoleon, Le Comte D'Artois, the King himself, the Committee, and now Jacques-Louis David."
"It's still seems so odd just to make art for one's own edification," Alfred murmured, and frowned as Matthew had him lay down flush beside him, looking down at him with those smiling violet eyes.
"Parfait," Monsieur David said from behind the canvas, and Alfred's fate was sealed.
Reply
On a side note, something in this fill piques my memory...Have you written fanfiction for Hetalia before unanonymously?
Reply
Possibly... -looks around with a big obvious smile on her face- what do you think I've done?
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I like your plan here too, that David is making a private work for himself. Again very interesting and actually very believable. I mean all artists paint for their own purposes as much as they do for comissions.
Very well written so far (You've really got the characters down pact, considering their time periods) and I can't wait to read more!
Canada referring to America as "dear" just swept me off my feet!
Reply
I'm glad that you like it so far!
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