Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... 4/?
anonymous
September 26 2011, 17:04:25 UTC
By the time he at long last began to stir, drawing his duvet more tightly around his body, then stretching out, sighing as his spine popped in a wholly satisfying way, the sun was beginning to sink along the London skyline; behind the tall buildings, glassy and sleek and modern; the ugly 1970’s blocks of grainy grey concrete; the old metal and stone bridges, and the elaborate Georgian townhouses; and the trees, the few lovely green trees that were fading through to red or amber or brown; winter was definitely on its way.
He rolled over, kicked his covers back, and stretched again. His cool toes discovered the abandoned clothes from earlier scattered on the carpet. They were still slightly damp. Roderich gathered them up slowly, and placed them in his laundry basket, promising himself that he would do some washing tomorrow.
Somewhere, a few walls away, a door slammed shut. In the hallway, Feliciano cheerily called out “Who wants dinner?” and he decided that it would probably be a good time to get up. He dug out a pair of jeans that were relatively clean (discovering his mobile phone, abandoned in one of the pockets - when on Earth had he put that there?) and a shirt that had not been worn yet, and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
It was warm in there, and bright, and the rain had finally stopped pouring down. The windows were closed, and zebra-striped with liquid, and prisms of light were scattered across the countertops. Feliciano and Ludwig were arguing affectionately about whether or not it was too soon to have more pasta (“we eat it every single night, Feliciano!” “Ve, because it’s so good, silly!”) and Matthew was perched on a chair in the corner, quietly reading a book and listening to his iPod. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, and Roderich smiled as he found a seat, and slid down into it.
In the building next to them, Roderich could hear slow jazz music drifting between open windows; and he caught a glimpse of Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones waltzing around their kitchen together, laughing, and not fighting, for once. Or having extremely loud sex, which was always a plus.
His phone buzzed against his leg, and he jumped, having forgotten it was there. He flipped it open, and read.
From: Elizabeta
Hey, Roderich, just wanted 2 let u know i had a really nice time last night! Hope u did 2, and your not 2 hungover! Maybe we could do the same thing again soon? Anyway thanks again!
Lizzy xx
Roderich smiled.
Notes: 1. “Stonker” is a British slang term which means “exceptional.” In this case, Roderich has a really, really bad headache. This fic is set in England, so yeah. 2. Mikkel and Lukas are Denmark and Norway, obviously.
Re: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... 4/?
anonymous
September 26 2011, 20:21:09 UTC
Oh yay~ I am so happy that this story is back >.<
I was just thinking about it the other day and wondering when you would return! This is just such a sweet story. I love the slow build. Can't wait for more.
Re: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue... 4/?
anonymous
September 26 2011, 21:04:26 UTC
Oh yay~ I am so happy that this story is back >.<
I was just thinking about it the other day and wondering when you would return! This is just such a sweet story. I love the slow build. Can't wait for more.
An update! Eek! I peeked at the future pairings and I am EXCITED. I am enjoying this to bits!
I want to live in that house so Feliciano will make me pasta every night and where naked Francis lives in my bath. And there's just something so weird picturing Canada with Tesco bags. It's bringing up all these images of Canada using the self-scanner and selecting items and putting them in his basket and being so wonderfully normal. I don't even know what's wrong with me, but I just love the image.
And, and he caught a glimpse of Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones waltzing around their kitchen together, laughing, and not fighting, for once. Awww. I'm not even a big fan of USUK, but this is just cute.
He rolled over, kicked his covers back, and stretched again. His cool toes discovered the abandoned clothes from earlier scattered on the carpet. They were still slightly damp. Roderich gathered them up slowly, and placed them in his laundry basket, promising himself that he would do some washing tomorrow.
Somewhere, a few walls away, a door slammed shut. In the hallway, Feliciano cheerily called out “Who wants dinner?” and he decided that it would probably be a good time to get up. He dug out a pair of jeans that were relatively clean (discovering his mobile phone, abandoned in one of the pockets - when on Earth had he put that there?) and a shirt that had not been worn yet, and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
It was warm in there, and bright, and the rain had finally stopped pouring down. The windows were closed, and zebra-striped with liquid, and prisms of light were scattered across the countertops. Feliciano and Ludwig were arguing affectionately about whether or not it was too soon to have more pasta (“we eat it every single night, Feliciano!” “Ve, because it’s so good, silly!”) and Matthew was perched on a chair in the corner, quietly reading a book and listening to his iPod. Gilbert was nowhere to be seen, and Roderich smiled as he found a seat, and slid down into it.
In the building next to them, Roderich could hear slow jazz music drifting between open windows; and he caught a glimpse of Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones waltzing around their kitchen together, laughing, and not fighting, for once. Or having extremely loud sex, which was always a plus.
His phone buzzed against his leg, and he jumped, having forgotten it was there. He flipped it open, and read.
From: Elizabeta
Hey, Roderich, just wanted 2 let u know i had a really nice time last night! Hope u did 2, and your not 2 hungover! Maybe we could do the same thing again soon? Anyway thanks again!
Lizzy xx
Roderich smiled.
Notes:
1. “Stonker” is a British slang term which means “exceptional.” In this case, Roderich has a really, really bad headache. This fic is set in England, so yeah.
2. Mikkel and Lukas are Denmark and Norway, obviously.
Reply
I was just thinking about it the other day and wondering when you would return! This is just such a sweet story. I love the slow build. Can't wait for more.
Reply
I was just thinking about it the other day and wondering when you would return! This is just such a sweet story. I love the slow build. Can't wait for more.
Reply
I want to live in that house so Feliciano will make me pasta every night and where naked Francis lives in my bath. And there's just something so weird picturing Canada with Tesco bags. It's bringing up all these images of Canada using the self-scanner and selecting items and putting them in his basket and being so wonderfully normal. I don't even know what's wrong with me, but I just love the image.
And,
and he caught a glimpse of Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones waltzing around their kitchen together, laughing, and not fighting, for once.
Awww. I'm not even a big fan of USUK, but this is just cute.
I hope you had a good summer, authornon!
Reply
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