If it wasn't for the bed, I wouldn't have shagged you [1/2]
anonymous
June 21 2009, 03:04:32 UTC
Different from the anon who offered to fill this, but would certainly love to see anon's fill because this has a high percentage of sucking. Very badly. And not in a good way.
---
It was a fine day, the manager, whom we shall keep on calling Manager, of a certain ritzy hotel somewhere in France said to himself. The birds were chirping, the crowds weren't all about hustling and bustling, and his wife had finally agreed to a morning quickie. Yes, quite the fine morning indeed.
He whistled to himself as he strolled into the lobby of the hotel. He thought that nothing would be able to crash his mood back to earth. Not even incompetent workers, not even silly tourists, not even the bellboy pulling his sleeve in rapid, frantic succession.
"What?" he asked, a bit irate, but still managing to keep the pleased, "I ate your canary" smile on his face.
"There's some of them complaining, sir," the bellboy said, "and they won't tell anyone the problem unless it's you!"
"Well, tell them that I'm busy today and that they'll just have to deal with it or tell it to someone else." Not that he was really busy. He just didn't like dealing with complaints so early on such a fine day.
"Um, sir. They're behind you." The poor bellboy was shaking like a leaf. A leaf during autumn, that was.
Manager turned around slowly, preparing himself for the verbal assault. When he saw who the whiners were, his sweat glands were jolted to life.
"Good morning," he said, the pleased smile that was on his face slowly morphing into one tinged with anxiety.
"Now you think this is funny, do you?" the incensed tourist asked with his humongous eyebrows meshing together to form a fierce glare. "We booked two twin beds, not one goddamn double-bed."
"Best night of my life," the, according to many, scandalously fabulous tourist -- an image made because it looked like he'd tangoed in between sheets (and then some other places, and sometimes not just the vertical sort of tango) -- said with a lascivious wink that was aimed at Manager.
"Shut up, Fr-Francis, or I shall castrate you with the aid of a rusty teaspoon."
"Crystal clear, cher Arthur. Lead the way."
"Good." England nodded before glaring at Manager again. "To your office then."
The walk to Manager's pristine office, it seemed to Manager himself, was a long, arduous one. He was weighed down by the daggers being shot by the first tourist's eyes. He was being deafened by the talk of things not meant to be talked about in public by the other tourist. It was a horrifying experience that he never wanted to repeat. It was the last time he would accommodate an Englishman and a Frenchman together.
As soon as the door closed, England sat himself on a chair and appeared to pull out a teacup filled with tea out of nowhere. France sat beside England, and Manager sat behind the table in front of the two.
"I distinctly remember calling this establishment and booking a room with two beds. Why weren't we given this room?" England asked, sounding much more tranquil after sipping his tea.
"There was a slight--" Manager started to say.
"It was a rhetorical question, git. Don't talk unless I say so."
Manager gave himself a clap on the back for not bristling and losing his head then and there. Then again, the way England was looking at him was vaguely terrifying.
The only sound in the room was the humming of the air conditioning system, and England with his tea.
If it wasn't for the bed, I wouldn't have shagged you [2/2]
anonymous
June 21 2009, 03:06:00 UTC
"I now hold you responsible for us having sex the previous night before as we weren't given the original room I booked," he continued.
Manager blinked before adding, "What?", to the conversation.
The sound of teacup descending on saucer was one that brought unpleasant shivers down Manager's spine. There was a chilly, dark aura that enveloped England. The smile that gradually grew on his face almost made Manager wet his pants, and not in the way his wife did.
Simply terrifying.
England placed his saucer on the table before speaking. "You see here, this," he gestured to France, "is a bloody pervert who had me drunker than a streaker. We shared a bed. He took fucking advantage of me and what will you do about that?" His smile turned twitchy, murderous.
"Why, Arthur," France all but purred, "I dare say that being taken advantage of doesn't necessarily equate to being on top."
Manager didn't need to hear about their sexual escapades. He also didn't need to be in this room.
"I demand compensation for-for bedding this satyric spawn of Venus," England said.
Manager almost pitied him for he looked like he'd just lost his dog. Rather, lost his virginity to a sex god.
"I don't think he can give back your purity," France said with a leer. "You haven't exactly been pure for centuries now."
"Hush, you!" England exclaimed, a cheeks wrought red with anger and perhaps a smidgen of embarrassment.
"I suppose that you wouldn't at all be complaining if it was Germania here."
"I-I would complain either way! This isn't right and this hotel's mixed everything up. I have every right to complain." Though the flush in his ears was telling otherwise and Manager was starting to wonder who exactly this Germania was.
"And it wasn't as if you were whining about it the night before."
England punched France to make his point. It was a fine point that was easily understood by both France and Manager. The British Empire was always right even if it was wrong. Or even if there wasn't an argument in the first place.
France covered his nose with his hand and opted to keep quiet. Though an angry England was also a very tempting England. He would raise this issue, amongst others, the next time they intentionally -- at least for France it was -- crossed paths in front of a bed or a bar.
"So let us talk about this compensation," England said.
His fingers wrapped around the handle of his teacup and he looked less of a maniac.
"Yes, of course," Manager said while profusely nodding.
Sorry it took so long to get to commenting. Had to deal with school a bit.
Oh, if only you could see the grin on my face as I was reading this <3 I love the light-hearted writing style. Gives it the cracky feeling I was looking for xD
---
It was a fine day, the manager, whom we shall keep on calling Manager, of a certain ritzy hotel somewhere in France said to himself. The birds were chirping, the crowds weren't all about hustling and bustling, and his wife had finally agreed to a morning quickie. Yes, quite the fine morning indeed.
He whistled to himself as he strolled into the lobby of the hotel. He thought that nothing would be able to crash his mood back to earth. Not even incompetent workers, not even silly tourists, not even the bellboy pulling his sleeve in rapid, frantic succession.
"What?" he asked, a bit irate, but still managing to keep the pleased, "I ate your canary" smile on his face.
"There's some of them complaining, sir," the bellboy said, "and they won't tell anyone the problem unless it's you!"
"Well, tell them that I'm busy today and that they'll just have to deal with it or tell it to someone else." Not that he was really busy. He just didn't like dealing with complaints so early on such a fine day.
"Um, sir. They're behind you." The poor bellboy was shaking like a leaf. A leaf during autumn, that was.
Manager turned around slowly, preparing himself for the verbal assault. When he saw who the whiners were, his sweat glands were jolted to life.
"Good morning," he said, the pleased smile that was on his face slowly morphing into one tinged with anxiety.
"Now you think this is funny, do you?" the incensed tourist asked with his humongous eyebrows meshing together to form a fierce glare. "We booked two twin beds, not one goddamn double-bed."
"Best night of my life," the, according to many, scandalously fabulous tourist -- an image made because it looked like he'd tangoed in between sheets (and then some other places, and sometimes not just the vertical sort of tango) -- said with a lascivious wink that was aimed at Manager.
"Shut up, Fr-Francis, or I shall castrate you with the aid of a rusty teaspoon."
"Crystal clear, cher Arthur. Lead the way."
"Good." England nodded before glaring at Manager again. "To your office then."
The walk to Manager's pristine office, it seemed to Manager himself, was a long, arduous one. He was weighed down by the daggers being shot by the first tourist's eyes. He was being deafened by the talk of things not meant to be talked about in public by the other tourist. It was a horrifying experience that he never wanted to repeat. It was the last time he would accommodate an Englishman and a Frenchman together.
As soon as the door closed, England sat himself on a chair and appeared to pull out a teacup filled with tea out of nowhere. France sat beside England, and Manager sat behind the table in front of the two.
"I distinctly remember calling this establishment and booking a room with two beds. Why weren't we given this room?" England asked, sounding much more tranquil after sipping his tea.
"There was a slight--" Manager started to say.
"It was a rhetorical question, git. Don't talk unless I say so."
Manager gave himself a clap on the back for not bristling and losing his head then and there. Then again, the way England was looking at him was vaguely terrifying.
The only sound in the room was the humming of the air conditioning system, and England with his tea.
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Manager blinked before adding, "What?", to the conversation.
The sound of teacup descending on saucer was one that brought unpleasant shivers down Manager's spine. There was a chilly, dark aura that enveloped England. The smile that gradually grew on his face almost made Manager wet his pants, and not in the way his wife did.
Simply terrifying.
England placed his saucer on the table before speaking. "You see here, this," he gestured to France, "is a bloody pervert who had me drunker than a streaker. We shared a bed. He took fucking advantage of me and what will you do about that?" His smile turned twitchy, murderous.
"Why, Arthur," France all but purred, "I dare say that being taken advantage of doesn't necessarily equate to being on top."
Manager didn't need to hear about their sexual escapades. He also didn't need to be in this room.
"I demand compensation for-for bedding this satyric spawn of Venus," England said.
Manager almost pitied him for he looked like he'd just lost his dog. Rather, lost his virginity to a sex god.
"I don't think he can give back your purity," France said with a leer. "You haven't exactly been pure for centuries now."
"Hush, you!" England exclaimed, a cheeks wrought red with anger and perhaps a smidgen of embarrassment.
"I suppose that you wouldn't at all be complaining if it was Germania here."
"I-I would complain either way! This isn't right and this hotel's mixed everything up. I have every right to complain." Though the flush in his ears was telling otherwise and Manager was starting to wonder who exactly this Germania was.
"And it wasn't as if you were whining about it the night before."
England punched France to make his point. It was a fine point that was easily understood by both France and Manager. The British Empire was always right even if it was wrong. Or even if there wasn't an argument in the first place.
France covered his nose with his hand and opted to keep quiet. Though an angry England was also a very tempting England. He would raise this issue, amongst others, the next time they intentionally -- at least for France it was -- crossed paths in front of a bed or a bar.
"So let us talk about this compensation," England said.
His fingers wrapped around the handle of his teacup and he looked less of a maniac.
"Yes, of course," Manager said while profusely nodding.
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This was a great fill. I loved it! =)
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Anyway. This was made of pure WIN. You've made this anon happy, Author!anon. Thank you. :D
Oh France, I love you so much. Please never change.♥♥
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Writer!anon, you own the day! I love each and every of Arthur's snarky words, and of course Francis' comeback. Poor Manager~
Arthur how do you manage to keep all your tea utensils?! Does your suits have, like, secret compartments? XD
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Oh, if only you could see the grin on my face as I was reading this <3
I love the light-hearted writing style. Gives it the cracky feeling I was looking for xD
Thanks so much, writer-anon!
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