Mistakes That We Make [1/3]b
anonymous
June 23 2011, 01:58:36 UTC
Dinner wore on slowly, and the candles were being lit at tables for more light as they finished up their meals. Prussia was entertaining them with a story about his brother and North Italy (although he used their human names in the company of all the people at the café, it wasn’t like they could just announce to the world who exactly they were), and Spain and France listening attentively. Mattieu, however, had seemed to grow more and more bored with stories of people he didn’t even know and had drifted off, impolitely staring out into the distance.
“Mattieu?” France turned to his boyfriend as Prussia finished up his most recent story about walking in on Germany in bed with North Italy, “S’il-te-plait, I know it’s not so interesting when you don’t know them, but at least pretend to pay attention? It’s rather rude to ignore Gilbert like this…”
“Mon chèr, I do not have to pay attention if they aren’t saying anything interesting. Besides, we’re almost finished and you did promise me something…” He drifted off suggestively, and both Prussia and Spain had ceased their conversation and were listening attentively, confused expressions on their faces.
“It’s really not the time to discuss those things,” France glanced briefly at his friends, “Mattieu, we aren’t nearly done, there is still dessert to have…”
Mattieu’s face seemed to cloud over, and his eyes darkened. Leaning forward, he grabbed France’s arm roughly, and the other two members of the bad friends trio seemed to rise slightly from their seats, expressions wary, “Non, we should go now.” His hands were tightening around France’s bicep, and the nation winced. Country or not, he’d have bruises in the morning.
“Mattieu let go please,” Blue eyes widened with surprise as the hand clenched harder, drawing a hiss of pain. Spain bristled slightly behind him, and he almost heard the tenseness in Prussia’s clenched fists.
“I believe Francis asked you to let go,” and then Spain was there, working the painfully gripping fingers from his bicep one by one, and he glanced at the other nation gratefully. His attention was not reciprocated, as Spain’s attention was focused menacingly on his boyfriend, a peek of the conquistador he had once been showing through his eyes.
“So? He belongs to me, not you, alors ferme-la.” Mattieu’s expression showed nothing of the kind man he’d been not hours before, and France winced. Maybe he was not what he’d seemed at first. But how could he not have notice?
“We asked you nicely to let go, arschloch, now please do so before we get serious.” Prussia’s face was murderous, with a touch of insanity as he leaned forward. Spain smiled cruelly as he roughly pried the last few tightening fingers from France’s arm.
“Whatever.” Mattieu suddenly let go, backing up a bit from the threatening looking nations, “Come on Francis, I should apologize in private for that accident, non?”
Suddenly Mattieu’s face was back to what it had been before, kind, attentive and loving and France wondered if that brief flash of cruelty had only been in his imagination. Beside him Spain was still bristling, but he shook his head, signaling to his friends that it was alright.
“Perhaps it has been enough for one night then. Excusez-nous Antonio, Gilbert.” France smoothly extracted himself from between his two friends, who still seemed wary, and stepped forward, joining Mattieu, who had stood up and was holding his coat open for him to put on.
“Francis, you don’t mean to say that you’ll just forgive him for that?” Spain’s eyes were cold as he glanced at Mattieu, and both his friends seeming wary.
“Of course. He said it was an accident, did he not?” France briefly hugged both his friends and turned to take his boyfriend’s hand, “I’ll see you later?”
Prussia glanced at Mattieu distrustfully, and then waved at France, “Be careful, and let us know if he does anything else.” Spain nodded in agreement.
France just waved off their over protectiveness. “It’ll be fine, you two are just overreacting,” he kissed Mattieu on the cheek and headed out of the café.
Mistakes That We Make part 1 notes
anonymous
June 23 2011, 02:02:25 UTC
A!A here with some translations and other miscellaneous things. Apologies for all the spam and the ignore the fact that the requester hasn't responded to question about request... I'll write it both ways and then finish it off here when anon responds I guess ^^ I got a bit impatient because I've gotten it mostly done, although I'll probably update with the next part tomorrow.
Translations: (as a note, Author!anon actually does speak French, but is unfortunately having to rely on internet translators and such for German and Spanish, so apologies for that ahead of time.)
[French] Mon chèr: my dear Non: no Oui: yes S’il-te-plait: please Alors ferme-la: so shut up Excusez-nous: excuse us
“Mattieu?” France turned to his boyfriend as Prussia finished up his most recent story about walking in on Germany in bed with North Italy, “S’il-te-plait, I know it’s not so interesting when you don’t know them, but at least pretend to pay attention? It’s rather rude to ignore Gilbert like this…”
“Mon chèr, I do not have to pay attention if they aren’t saying anything interesting. Besides, we’re almost finished and you did promise me something…” He drifted off suggestively, and both Prussia and Spain had ceased their conversation and were listening attentively, confused expressions on their faces.
“It’s really not the time to discuss those things,” France glanced briefly at his friends, “Mattieu, we aren’t nearly done, there is still dessert to have…”
Mattieu’s face seemed to cloud over, and his eyes darkened. Leaning forward, he grabbed France’s arm roughly, and the other two members of the bad friends trio seemed to rise slightly from their seats, expressions wary, “Non, we should go now.” His hands were tightening around France’s bicep, and the nation winced. Country or not, he’d have bruises in the morning.
“Mattieu let go please,” Blue eyes widened with surprise as the hand clenched harder, drawing a hiss of pain. Spain bristled slightly behind him, and he almost heard the tenseness in Prussia’s clenched fists.
“I believe Francis asked you to let go,” and then Spain was there, working the painfully gripping fingers from his bicep one by one, and he glanced at the other nation gratefully. His attention was not reciprocated, as Spain’s attention was focused menacingly on his boyfriend, a peek of the conquistador he had once been showing through his eyes.
“So? He belongs to me, not you, alors ferme-la.” Mattieu’s expression showed nothing of the kind man he’d been not hours before, and France winced. Maybe he was not what he’d seemed at first. But how could he not have notice?
“We asked you nicely to let go, arschloch, now please do so before we get serious.” Prussia’s face was murderous, with a touch of insanity as he leaned forward. Spain smiled cruelly as he roughly pried the last few tightening fingers from France’s arm.
“Whatever.” Mattieu suddenly let go, backing up a bit from the threatening looking nations, “Come on Francis, I should apologize in private for that accident, non?”
Suddenly Mattieu’s face was back to what it had been before, kind, attentive and loving and France wondered if that brief flash of cruelty had only been in his imagination. Beside him Spain was still bristling, but he shook his head, signaling to his friends that it was alright.
“Perhaps it has been enough for one night then. Excusez-nous Antonio, Gilbert.” France smoothly extracted himself from between his two friends, who still seemed wary, and stepped forward, joining Mattieu, who had stood up and was holding his coat open for him to put on.
“Francis, you don’t mean to say that you’ll just forgive him for that?” Spain’s eyes were cold as he glanced at Mattieu, and both his friends seeming wary.
“Of course. He said it was an accident, did he not?” France briefly hugged both his friends and turned to take his boyfriend’s hand, “I’ll see you later?”
Prussia glanced at Mattieu distrustfully, and then waved at France, “Be careful, and let us know if he does anything else.” Spain nodded in agreement.
France just waved off their over protectiveness. “It’ll be fine, you two are just overreacting,” he kissed Mattieu on the cheek and headed out of the café.
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Translations: (as a note, Author!anon actually does speak French, but is unfortunately having to rely on internet translators and such for German and Spanish, so apologies for that ahead of time.)
[French]
Mon chèr: my dear
Non: no
Oui: yes
S’il-te-plait: please
Alors ferme-la: so shut up
Excusez-nous: excuse us
[German]
Arschloch: asshole
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