Fic: UNN [Part Two]
Title: UNN
Author/Artist: Jamaica-tan
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Francis/Arthur as main, and various others
Rating: R to be safe.
Genre: Comedy/Romance/Drama
Warnings: Swearing, buckets of bad language, Francis.
Summary: Welcome to the United Nations News Network, the world's best, first, only and worst international news channel! Can the channel handle co-presenters that hate each other? Can Ludwig contol his insane employees? FrUk and other pairings.
Previous parts inside!
Introduction - 2006 has been the worst year in the history of ever.
Part 1 - Erection Day
Thanks go to my betas Redudant Goddess and koholint
Note: Just a reminder that this story, particularly the FrUK storyline, is based off ‘Shakespeare ReTold’s Much Ado about Nothing’ so I will be using some lines/scenes from that film. If I forget to credit any other references please remind me.
Note: [“dialogue”] is words over intercom or microphone.
Part Two - Pardon my Freudian Slip! I meant Election Day
1st of October.
3.30 am, time for Arthur to admit that there way was no way he could get a decent night’s sleep now. He’d done everything as normal; brushed his teeth, put on his comfortable pyjamas, read a book for half an hour in bed, and then turned the lights off at a sensible time.
But instead of peacefully falling asleep, he had spent the past few hours glaring at his ceiling.
He would see Francis tomorrow. He was going to lose a night of precious beauty sleep because that bastard would be back in his territory in less than ten hours, oiling his way around the offices and studios, flirting with anyone who couldn’t get away fast enough, and pretending that he had never stood Arthur up. But that was fine because Arthur had decided to wipe the incident from his mind, so Francis was just a French bastard. A French bastard oiling his way around the offices and studios flirting with anyone who couldn’t get away fast enough and pretending that he had never stood Arthur up.
...
Fuck it.
A few minutes later Arthur was on his knees in his office rifling through the desk drawers. Eventually he gave a triumphant “Ah-ha!” when he found the slightly crumpled box of cigarettes, almost crying with joy when he opened it and found more than just a few in there. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too stale; he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had bought these.
Soon he was settled comfortably in front of the television with a freshly lit cigarette and a rather large glass of scotch. He switched on the TV and spent a few minutes aimlessly flicking channels before he somehow ended up with a French news channel, on a pre-recorded interview with...
Sweet Lord why! That bastard was there pretending to interview some dim-witted blushing woman while obviously flirting with her. He hadn’t changed at all, tucking the same stupid silky hair behind his ear with a dazzling smile while the woman’s blush deepened as she gave a breathless reply. Motherfucker.
Arthur had to quickly remind himself that his TV was new and cost a lot of money, and that throwing the remote control at it wouldn’t hurt that frog at all, so he just turned it off.
In the darkness he swore loudly and finished his drink before getting up for the bottle.
.
As soon as Francis Bonnefoy stepped out of his sleek car, he felt like he was coming home. A home of warmth and camaraderie with his friends, an understanding boss, and more than a few eager junior employees to seduce.
He was but a few steps away from the welcoming glass doors when he heard a familiar voice call his name, “Yo! Francis!”
The blonde turned and smiled when he saw who it was. “Gilbert, mon ami! How was your holiday?”
Gilbert shrugged lazily, and Francis put his arm around one of his best friend’s shoulder. “Same old, Berlin’s getting boring.”
“Berlin, dull? You mean to say you’ve exhausted all the S&M and fetish clubs?”
“Even the really dirty ones, so next time I need to go somewhere dirtier and cheaper, somewhere that won’t press charges.”
“Always important.”
“How does it feel to be back?” Gilbert sniffed slightly.
“Like I never left. If all goes well I’ll never want to leave again.”
“Fuckin’ awesome, good to hear that cos it’s not been the same since ‘Tonio hooked up with that bitchy Italian.”
“Little Lovino? But he’s so cute!”
“A cute little pain in the ass! All he does is complain and eat and complain some more. I used to think that ‘Tonio was sticking around for the kid’s cash, but now I think he’s just cock-whipped.”
“That’s a beautiful image, truly.”
“Yeah I bet you like that, you horny old goat.”
“What about you?”
The German’s grin stuttered slightly, “What d’ya mean?”
“How are things, with you and...” Francis trailed off in a subtle gesture for Gilbert to fill in the blanks. Instead, Gilbert shrugged, almost aggressively.
“Their loss!”
Francis raised an elegant eyebrow. “Is that so? That is a shame.”
“Yeah, anyways I’ll catch up to you later. I’m gonna go get some decent coffee from that place round the corner; can’t stand that hamster’s piss they serve upstairs.”
Gilbert started to turn before he seemed to remember something.
“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about Arthur?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Whatever you did, he acted like he had sand in his vagina for nearly six months after you left.”
Francis shrugged. “I didn’t do anything to him, but a little of the Bonnefoy magic wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’d hurt you; think he’ll rip your guts out!”
“As if I’m scared of that stuffy Englishman.”
“Yeah well, I know you’re lying through your teeth. Whatever you did really pissed him off.”
.
Arthur’s temper (worn down by a few hours of scotch-induced sleep) was not helped by coming into the meeting room to see that French bastard holding court as if he had never left. Nearly everyone was hanging on to his word as if it were gospel while he went on about some stupid adventure. “We were surrounded, pirates pointing guns at us and screaming orders in Somali - ”
“Shame they didn’t shoot,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he took his seat. Unfortunately the French bastard heard him and turned towards him with a dazzling smile.
“Arthur! You’re still here!” Fucking snail-eating bastard; Arthur looked up from the files he was pulling out of his briefcase, trying not to grit his teeth. “Of course, why would I leave?”
“Oh of course you would stay - somewhere so safe and comfortable...”
“Are you trying to imply something? If so it’s flown over my silly English head.”
At that moment Ivan and Kiku walked in and the room fell immediately silent. Whether this was due to respect for their producer or fear of Ivan will be left for the reader to decide.
Kiku bowed his head politely and took his seat, “Good morning everyone, shall we begin?”
.
“Hey Gilbert!”
Gilbert spun on his heel to look at Nikolaj, one of the security guards at the desk.
“If you want me to compliment your minimum wage ass in those tight uniform trousers, I’ll do it later when I’m spanking it in the men’s room, but right now I’m in a fuckin’ hurry, so what is it?”
Nikolaj glared at him for second, but then smiled widely, “Nothing. Have a nice day.”
“Damn right, and I’ll see you later,” Gilbert strode over to the lifts and pressed the call button. He sipped his coffee idly as the doors opened and he walked in, pressing the button for his floor. His meeting wasn’t until two, but he always came in early to hang out and annoy people, and he missed it while he was away. Today would be a good day.
But when the doors began to close, he heard an all-too-familiar voice. “Hold the doors please!”
Gilbert swore and pressed the button to close the doors quickly, but a small pair of hands pushed through and pushed the doors apart, revealing Elizaveta with Roderich behind her. There was an awkward pause while they looked at each other before she sighed and walked into the lift. Roderich followed her and said nothing. Elizaveta said nothing. Even Gilbert said nothing. It was possibly the most awkward lift journey in history.
The silence was only broken by the doors opening. Elizaveta walked straight out, but Roderich stayed for moment before leaving.
“Gilbert, did you know that there’s a pigeon on your head?”
It took a moment for Gilbert’s brain to process that, before he reached up and instead of patting his head, his hand met feathers and an angry coo. Fuck, not again - Gilbird would pissed off later. Oh well.
“Oh, hi pigeon, wanna come watch me drink beer and download porn in my office?”
“Coo~.”
“Awesome.”
.
“So I have some big news,” was Alfred’s greeting as he grabbed the chair next to Arthur, turning it around to sit on it backwards with his arms resting on the back.
“Mmm-hmm,” Arthur didn’t pause from reading his gossip magazine; one had to keep up with current events.
“Actually it’s pretty epic, monumental, fate-of-the-world type stuff, so pretty important.”
“Mmm-hmm.” So that pop star is having an affair with that actor; how shocking, he had been so sure that the pop star was a lesbian...
“I’m getting married.”
“Mmm - wait, what?” The British man finally looked up, “What did you just say?”
“I’m getting married!”
“Really?”
“Yup!”
“Oh! That is excellent news old man! Who, may I ask, is the lucky lady?”
Just as Alfred was about to answer, a girl with pale blonde hair walked by, dumping a report on the nearby programme papers without breaking her stride as she crossed the room and disappeared down a nearby corridor.
“Her,” Alfred said, almost dreamily.
“Who?”
“Her, Natalya.”
“...Natalya?”
“Yeah, ain’t she cute?”
Arthur had to resist the urge to rub his temples. “Do you mean the same Natalya that’s just walked past without acknowledging you, who is also the same woman you’ve never spoken to before?”
“Nope, we talked and it was... amazing,” Alfred actually sighed in a romantic wistful way.
Arthur suspected that either someone had slipped something in Alfred’s coffee or the American had finally gone insane; they were the only logical conclusions.
He caved and decided to ask what brought on this insanity. “Go on then, how did you suddenly decide she was meant for you?”
(****Magical shower of sparkles and wavy lines as we go back in time~~...****)
On the night of the Television News and Journalism Awards, Alfred F. Jones was feeling pretty damn good. Who the hell wouldn’t, when you’re the Sports Journalist of the Year - wouldn’t you feel amazing? So, fuelled with his amazingness, his new statue in one hand, his work ID in the other and enough whisky running through his body to kill a racehorse, he decided to celebrate. And by celebrate, he meant photocopying his butt and sending it to all the losers so they’d know who was best.
Night security was just that skinny boy Leif watching a DVD at the front desk and ignoring the security screens, so he was easy to get past, but stumbling around the offices looking for the copy room keys was a bit harder. But it didn’t matter anymore when he picked the lock - it was all in place. Copier on, ID on the scanner (because emailing a random butt picture would just be dumb), his pants were down, and he was trying to figure out how the hell his belt ended up around his boxers when the door suddenly opened.
There was a blue and white spinning blob in the spinning doorway, and as it came nearer the spinning blob slowly melted into a slightly blurry feminine figure.
“Yo,” Alfred managed, somehow managing a grin. The blur went past him and went to the shelves, like it was looking for something. A moment later, it picked up something and put it in what was either its purse or pocket, and finally turned to face him.
“What are you doing here?” Definitely a girl, with a sexy Soviet-spy accent!
“Well...” Why was he here? Oh yeah, “well, see I won this nifty award saying I’m the best, so I’m gonna send the haters a picture of my ass so they can kiss it!”
“I see.”
“Did ya see it?”
“See what?”
“My crowning moment of awesome!” Geeze, was this chick dumb?
“Of?”
“When I won! It was on national TV!”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I worked late.”
The room was beginning to wobble again, and so was the figure who was reaching for something on the floor before holding it up. “These are yours.”
Alfred leaned in closer and tried to focus on her hand. “Hey, my glasses! How did you get those!”
“You dropped them, you fool.”
He clumsily grabbed them, and when he put them on his world lit up. The bright room was now clearer but still shaky, though the girl seemed very still, very real and beautiful. She was wearing a dark blue coat and wore a ribbon the same colour in her long pale hair. Her skin was pale, her eyes were the colour of cobalt, and she looked unimpressed.
After a few seconds Alfred realised he was staring. “Uh, thanks.”
She raised an eyebrow and nodded formally, “good night.” The girl - or woman, she looked like she was about his age - turned on her heel and walked out of the room. At the doorway she paused and looked over her shoulder.
“Your plan would fail; photocopier glass is now built to shatter under human weight. It would be bad for the channel’s reputation for an award winning journalist of ours to go to the Accident and Emergency Department on the night of his victory because of his own idiocy. If I lose my job because of you I will slice your skin off and then rub in salt and vinegar to watch you scream with agony.”
She walked away.
To Alfred’s credit he heard what she said, but his mind was more on her pretty face and the venom in her calm, cute voice.
He was in love.
A few minutes later, slightly more sober, he looked down and realised his pants were on the floor.
He had just met the love of his life with his pants round his ankles.
Huh.
Oh well.
He really should get dressed and go home. He was beginning to sober up a bit and realised the next time they’d meet he should be fully dressed. Maybe he’d leave himself a memo for that.
He pulled up his pants, but he couldn’t wipe the stupid smile from his face.
“What a woman!”
****Magical shower of sparkles and wavy lines as we return to the present~...****)
Now, Arthur was definitely feeling a headache come on. “So... have you spoken to her since? That was nearly a month ago.”
“I didn’t see her for nearly two weeks! I was starting to think that I imagined her, but then the other day I went into the wrong part of the building and there she was working in the Translation Department! Did you know we had one of those?”
“Yes I did; did you think the foreign reports magically appeared on our desks?”
“Nah, I just never thought about it.”
“Right, so have you spoken to her?”
“Yeah.”
“And has she fallen into your arms?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Does she know your name?”
“Of course.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Didn’t need to, everyone knows me!”
“But did she actually say she knew your name?”
“Well,” Alfred actually looked like he was considering it for a moment, “Well no, but everyone knows who I am!”
Arthur sighed; he had forgotten that in the world of Alfred F. Jones, everyone had a secret shrine dedicated to worshipping the American.
“Right... Alfred, before you book the church, there’s something you need to know.”
“What’s that?”
“First of all, I don’t know her too well but the rumours are that Natalya is insane. Not in the cute, accidentally stabbing you way, but as in ‘future homicidal maniac’,”
“Aw, you’re just overreacting!”
“I’m not, and she’s also -”
Some obnoxious rap tune started playing, and Alfred pulled out his phone, “Hi Liz!”
“Alfred!” Arthur heard Elizaveta’s voice shoot through the phone earpiece, “where are you, you have that interview in five minutes!”
“I do?” Alfred looked at his watch, “Aw, crap you’re right!” He shot up and ran off towards the hallway with a quick, “See ya later!”
Sometimes having a friend as arrogant yet friendly as Alfred was a real hassle, but he seemed delusional and very keen on her, so he might as well warn him.
Arthur took out his mobile phone and sent a text to Alfred of what he was trying to tell him earlier. At least Alfred couldn’t accuse him of not trying...
Arthur to Alfred:
She’s Ivan’s little sister!
.
[Studio Control Room]
“Why Ludwig, what a pleasant surprise.” Ivan’s friendly smile had an almost eerie, dangerous sheen in the dark room, “I hope you aren’t checking on me again.”
“No, just want to make sure tonight runs smoothly.” Ludwig took a seat near the back.
“Why don’t you sit closer to me?”
“If anything happens I want to be close to the door in case I need to go out there and bash their heads together.”
[Studio floor]
“Just want to make sure there’s no shine in the lights,” Anaïs said as she carefully ran the lightly dusted powder brush across Francis’s forehead, her hand on his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t move away. When she seemed satisfied she smiled and straightened slightly. “There, perfect.” Arthur was sat next to Francis on the sofa and had seen the frog’s eyes shamelessly run over the makeup artist’s body in her tight clothes, and now the bastard winked at her.
“I know you, you were new here before I left, and I must say you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
The blonde girl’s smile grew and she blushed prettily, “and you’re just as charming as I remember. Unlike so many here, you know how to make a girl feel special.”
“But you are special! You make me look good and your face makes me feel very good.” Oh, surely that was harassment, but the girl only giggled.
“Quand on se fait draguer, on se sent toujours spécial.”
“Ça illumine la journée”
“Oui.” She giggled again and Francis smiled as he lightly stroked her arm that was still on his shoulder. They spoke a few more words before she left, with Francis eyeing her pert bottom.
Well, Anaïs had been doing Arthur’s makeup for years and seemed perfectly nice; it was only now that he knew she was a French speaking tart. Really, flirting with Francis indicated very low standards. To look casual he flicked through the reports and tried not to think about how much he wanted a cigarette.
“Up to your old tricks again, I see.”
Francis looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “ ‘Old tricks’? I don’t know what you mean; it costs nothing to be friendly.”
“What you call friendly is known as sexual harassment in the real world.”
“Ah, I forget that some people know nothing of flirting.”
“I know plenty about flirting, thank you, but I’ve experienced your kind of flirtation and it’s like radiation poisoning.”
“Fits your poison tongue.”
[“Is everything okay?”] Ludwig’s voice came over the studio intercom.
“Fine!” Both spoke at the same time, then glanced at each other when they realised what they’d done.
When he looked away, Arthur had to bite the inside of his cheek to remind himself not to punch the bastard. He vaguely heard Elizaveta call out two minutes until air. He took a deep breath.
Francis laughed slightly, and when he looked at him the Frenchman was looking away and running a hand through his golden hair, “It’s been a while since I last did this, I hope you’ll be gentle with me.”
“Not scared are you?”
“Well, you almost killed the last guy with your sour face.”
“Yes, my sour face and not the fact that everything De Luca ate was smothered in butter.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Hmph.” Arthur checked his hair then ran his hand around his shirt collar to make sure nothing was out of place.
Francis picked up his papers to check they were all in order, and asked casually, “can I speak honestly with you?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“It’s about what happened before with us -”
“‘Us’? What, oh, that. Forgotten all about it. And there was no ‘us’ anyway -”
“ - I feel terrible about it, a crude text message is not really my way at all -”
“ - brief moment of weakness and delusion, don’t know what came over me -”
“ - and I know you must have felt humiliated -”
“ - dating a self-deluded egomaniac -”
“ - but things happened and I just had to follow my career - ”
“ - in fact I would say you must have slipped something in my tea -”
“ - so I won’t hold it against you if you feel wounded, cheri -”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Arthur didn’t expect that come out so loudly; neither did Francis by the way he jumped and hissed at him to shut up, but it was too late.
[“What the hell is going on?”] There was a slight scraping noise. [“Do I need to come down there?”]
“No.”
“Everything’s fine.”
There was a slight lull, then Arthur muttered, “by the way, there’s something on your face.”
“Oh course there is, what is it, spinach? Really Arthur, that is such an old trick.”
“Well I was only trying to help.”
“Five...” Elizaveta called out by the cameras. She wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation because they were professionals, once they were on air all personal conversations would stop.
“You expect me to believe that? You only want to embarrass me.”
“Four...”
“You expect me to be so petty?”
“Three...”
“I know you love watching others suffer, it’s the only time you look gleeful.”
“Two...”
“I don’t know what you mean; I never enjoyed other people’s suffering.”
“One...”
“Tell me Arthur, why you have to act like such a difficult - ”
[“Cue Bonnefoy.”]
“ - little prick.”
[Studio Control Room]
“ - little prick.”
There was a slight silence while the British man smiled almost gleefully at the camera, “And I’m Arthur Kirkland! Tonight we’ll be looking into the event of the latest Nuclear Council’s summit.” Francis obviously noticed his on screen faux-pas and winced slightly, but then smiled and carried on with his script.
All activity in the room stopped, and everyone turned to look at the men in charge to see their reaction. Ivan seemed to be pouting slightly, which meant he was a step away from stabbing someone, and Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes screwed shut. This was bad.
“I think,” Ivan said softly, “we’re going to have a problem.”
________________________________________
Sand in vagina line is from South Park.
Names:
Leif - Iceland
Anaïs - Belgium
Translations:
"Quand on se fait draguer, on se sent toujours spécial/when someone flirts with you, you always feel special"
"Ça illumine la journée/it brightens up your day"
Author/Artist: Jamaica-tan
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Francis/Arthur as main, and various others
Rating: R to be safe.
Genre: Comedy/Romance/Drama
Warnings: Swearing, buckets of bad language, Francis.
Summary: Welcome to the United Nations News Network, the world's best, first, only and worst international news channel! Can the channel handle co-presenters that hate each other? Can Ludwig contol his insane employees? FrUk and other pairings.
Previous parts inside!
Introduction - 2006 has been the worst year in the history of ever.
Part 1 - Erection Day
Thanks go to my betas Redudant Goddess and koholint
Note: Just a reminder that this story, particularly the FrUK storyline, is based off ‘Shakespeare ReTold’s Much Ado about Nothing’ so I will be using some lines/scenes from that film. If I forget to credit any other references please remind me.
Note: [“dialogue”] is words over intercom or microphone.
Part Two - Pardon my Freudian Slip! I meant Election Day
1st of October.
3.30 am, time for Arthur to admit that there way was no way he could get a decent night’s sleep now. He’d done everything as normal; brushed his teeth, put on his comfortable pyjamas, read a book for half an hour in bed, and then turned the lights off at a sensible time.
But instead of peacefully falling asleep, he had spent the past few hours glaring at his ceiling.
He would see Francis tomorrow. He was going to lose a night of precious beauty sleep because that bastard would be back in his territory in less than ten hours, oiling his way around the offices and studios, flirting with anyone who couldn’t get away fast enough, and pretending that he had never stood Arthur up. But that was fine because Arthur had decided to wipe the incident from his mind, so Francis was just a French bastard. A French bastard oiling his way around the offices and studios flirting with anyone who couldn’t get away fast enough and pretending that he had never stood Arthur up.
...
Fuck it.
A few minutes later Arthur was on his knees in his office rifling through the desk drawers. Eventually he gave a triumphant “Ah-ha!” when he found the slightly crumpled box of cigarettes, almost crying with joy when he opened it and found more than just a few in there. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too stale; he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had bought these.
Soon he was settled comfortably in front of the television with a freshly lit cigarette and a rather large glass of scotch. He switched on the TV and spent a few minutes aimlessly flicking channels before he somehow ended up with a French news channel, on a pre-recorded interview with...
Sweet Lord why! That bastard was there pretending to interview some dim-witted blushing woman while obviously flirting with her. He hadn’t changed at all, tucking the same stupid silky hair behind his ear with a dazzling smile while the woman’s blush deepened as she gave a breathless reply. Motherfucker.
Arthur had to quickly remind himself that his TV was new and cost a lot of money, and that throwing the remote control at it wouldn’t hurt that frog at all, so he just turned it off.
In the darkness he swore loudly and finished his drink before getting up for the bottle.
.
As soon as Francis Bonnefoy stepped out of his sleek car, he felt like he was coming home. A home of warmth and camaraderie with his friends, an understanding boss, and more than a few eager junior employees to seduce.
He was but a few steps away from the welcoming glass doors when he heard a familiar voice call his name, “Yo! Francis!”
The blonde turned and smiled when he saw who it was. “Gilbert, mon ami! How was your holiday?”
Gilbert shrugged lazily, and Francis put his arm around one of his best friend’s shoulder. “Same old, Berlin’s getting boring.”
“Berlin, dull? You mean to say you’ve exhausted all the S&M and fetish clubs?”
“Even the really dirty ones, so next time I need to go somewhere dirtier and cheaper, somewhere that won’t press charges.”
“Always important.”
“How does it feel to be back?” Gilbert sniffed slightly.
“Like I never left. If all goes well I’ll never want to leave again.”
“Fuckin’ awesome, good to hear that cos it’s not been the same since ‘Tonio hooked up with that bitchy Italian.”
“Little Lovino? But he’s so cute!”
“A cute little pain in the ass! All he does is complain and eat and complain some more. I used to think that ‘Tonio was sticking around for the kid’s cash, but now I think he’s just cock-whipped.”
“That’s a beautiful image, truly.”
“Yeah I bet you like that, you horny old goat.”
“What about you?”
The German’s grin stuttered slightly, “What d’ya mean?”
“How are things, with you and...” Francis trailed off in a subtle gesture for Gilbert to fill in the blanks. Instead, Gilbert shrugged, almost aggressively.
“Their loss!”
Francis raised an elegant eyebrow. “Is that so? That is a shame.”
“Yeah, anyways I’ll catch up to you later. I’m gonna go get some decent coffee from that place round the corner; can’t stand that hamster’s piss they serve upstairs.”
Gilbert started to turn before he seemed to remember something.
“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about Arthur?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Whatever you did, he acted like he had sand in his vagina for nearly six months after you left.”
Francis shrugged. “I didn’t do anything to him, but a little of the Bonnefoy magic wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’d hurt you; think he’ll rip your guts out!”
“As if I’m scared of that stuffy Englishman.”
“Yeah well, I know you’re lying through your teeth. Whatever you did really pissed him off.”
.
Arthur’s temper (worn down by a few hours of scotch-induced sleep) was not helped by coming into the meeting room to see that French bastard holding court as if he had never left. Nearly everyone was hanging on to his word as if it were gospel while he went on about some stupid adventure. “We were surrounded, pirates pointing guns at us and screaming orders in Somali - ”
“Shame they didn’t shoot,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he took his seat. Unfortunately the French bastard heard him and turned towards him with a dazzling smile.
“Arthur! You’re still here!” Fucking snail-eating bastard; Arthur looked up from the files he was pulling out of his briefcase, trying not to grit his teeth. “Of course, why would I leave?”
“Oh of course you would stay - somewhere so safe and comfortable...”
“Are you trying to imply something? If so it’s flown over my silly English head.”
At that moment Ivan and Kiku walked in and the room fell immediately silent. Whether this was due to respect for their producer or fear of Ivan will be left for the reader to decide.
Kiku bowed his head politely and took his seat, “Good morning everyone, shall we begin?”
.
“Hey Gilbert!”
Gilbert spun on his heel to look at Nikolaj, one of the security guards at the desk.
“If you want me to compliment your minimum wage ass in those tight uniform trousers, I’ll do it later when I’m spanking it in the men’s room, but right now I’m in a fuckin’ hurry, so what is it?”
Nikolaj glared at him for second, but then smiled widely, “Nothing. Have a nice day.”
“Damn right, and I’ll see you later,” Gilbert strode over to the lifts and pressed the call button. He sipped his coffee idly as the doors opened and he walked in, pressing the button for his floor. His meeting wasn’t until two, but he always came in early to hang out and annoy people, and he missed it while he was away. Today would be a good day.
But when the doors began to close, he heard an all-too-familiar voice. “Hold the doors please!”
Gilbert swore and pressed the button to close the doors quickly, but a small pair of hands pushed through and pushed the doors apart, revealing Elizaveta with Roderich behind her. There was an awkward pause while they looked at each other before she sighed and walked into the lift. Roderich followed her and said nothing. Elizaveta said nothing. Even Gilbert said nothing. It was possibly the most awkward lift journey in history.
The silence was only broken by the doors opening. Elizaveta walked straight out, but Roderich stayed for moment before leaving.
“Gilbert, did you know that there’s a pigeon on your head?”
It took a moment for Gilbert’s brain to process that, before he reached up and instead of patting his head, his hand met feathers and an angry coo. Fuck, not again - Gilbird would pissed off later. Oh well.
“Oh, hi pigeon, wanna come watch me drink beer and download porn in my office?”
“Coo~.”
“Awesome.”
.
“So I have some big news,” was Alfred’s greeting as he grabbed the chair next to Arthur, turning it around to sit on it backwards with his arms resting on the back.
“Mmm-hmm,” Arthur didn’t pause from reading his gossip magazine; one had to keep up with current events.
“Actually it’s pretty epic, monumental, fate-of-the-world type stuff, so pretty important.”
“Mmm-hmm.” So that pop star is having an affair with that actor; how shocking, he had been so sure that the pop star was a lesbian...
“I’m getting married.”
“Mmm - wait, what?” The British man finally looked up, “What did you just say?”
“I’m getting married!”
“Really?”
“Yup!”
“Oh! That is excellent news old man! Who, may I ask, is the lucky lady?”
Just as Alfred was about to answer, a girl with pale blonde hair walked by, dumping a report on the nearby programme papers without breaking her stride as she crossed the room and disappeared down a nearby corridor.
“Her,” Alfred said, almost dreamily.
“Who?”
“Her, Natalya.”
“...Natalya?”
“Yeah, ain’t she cute?”
Arthur had to resist the urge to rub his temples. “Do you mean the same Natalya that’s just walked past without acknowledging you, who is also the same woman you’ve never spoken to before?”
“Nope, we talked and it was... amazing,” Alfred actually sighed in a romantic wistful way.
Arthur suspected that either someone had slipped something in Alfred’s coffee or the American had finally gone insane; they were the only logical conclusions.
He caved and decided to ask what brought on this insanity. “Go on then, how did you suddenly decide she was meant for you?”
(****Magical shower of sparkles and wavy lines as we go back in time~~...****)
On the night of the Television News and Journalism Awards, Alfred F. Jones was feeling pretty damn good. Who the hell wouldn’t, when you’re the Sports Journalist of the Year - wouldn’t you feel amazing? So, fuelled with his amazingness, his new statue in one hand, his work ID in the other and enough whisky running through his body to kill a racehorse, he decided to celebrate. And by celebrate, he meant photocopying his butt and sending it to all the losers so they’d know who was best.
Night security was just that skinny boy Leif watching a DVD at the front desk and ignoring the security screens, so he was easy to get past, but stumbling around the offices looking for the copy room keys was a bit harder. But it didn’t matter anymore when he picked the lock - it was all in place. Copier on, ID on the scanner (because emailing a random butt picture would just be dumb), his pants were down, and he was trying to figure out how the hell his belt ended up around his boxers when the door suddenly opened.
There was a blue and white spinning blob in the spinning doorway, and as it came nearer the spinning blob slowly melted into a slightly blurry feminine figure.
“Yo,” Alfred managed, somehow managing a grin. The blur went past him and went to the shelves, like it was looking for something. A moment later, it picked up something and put it in what was either its purse or pocket, and finally turned to face him.
“What are you doing here?” Definitely a girl, with a sexy Soviet-spy accent!
“Well...” Why was he here? Oh yeah, “well, see I won this nifty award saying I’m the best, so I’m gonna send the haters a picture of my ass so they can kiss it!”
“I see.”
“Did ya see it?”
“See what?”
“My crowning moment of awesome!” Geeze, was this chick dumb?
“Of?”
“When I won! It was on national TV!”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I worked late.”
The room was beginning to wobble again, and so was the figure who was reaching for something on the floor before holding it up. “These are yours.”
Alfred leaned in closer and tried to focus on her hand. “Hey, my glasses! How did you get those!”
“You dropped them, you fool.”
He clumsily grabbed them, and when he put them on his world lit up. The bright room was now clearer but still shaky, though the girl seemed very still, very real and beautiful. She was wearing a dark blue coat and wore a ribbon the same colour in her long pale hair. Her skin was pale, her eyes were the colour of cobalt, and she looked unimpressed.
After a few seconds Alfred realised he was staring. “Uh, thanks.”
She raised an eyebrow and nodded formally, “good night.” The girl - or woman, she looked like she was about his age - turned on her heel and walked out of the room. At the doorway she paused and looked over her shoulder.
“Your plan would fail; photocopier glass is now built to shatter under human weight. It would be bad for the channel’s reputation for an award winning journalist of ours to go to the Accident and Emergency Department on the night of his victory because of his own idiocy. If I lose my job because of you I will slice your skin off and then rub in salt and vinegar to watch you scream with agony.”
She walked away.
To Alfred’s credit he heard what she said, but his mind was more on her pretty face and the venom in her calm, cute voice.
He was in love.
A few minutes later, slightly more sober, he looked down and realised his pants were on the floor.
He had just met the love of his life with his pants round his ankles.
Huh.
Oh well.
He really should get dressed and go home. He was beginning to sober up a bit and realised the next time they’d meet he should be fully dressed. Maybe he’d leave himself a memo for that.
He pulled up his pants, but he couldn’t wipe the stupid smile from his face.
“What a woman!”
****Magical shower of sparkles and wavy lines as we return to the present~...****)
Now, Arthur was definitely feeling a headache come on. “So... have you spoken to her since? That was nearly a month ago.”
“I didn’t see her for nearly two weeks! I was starting to think that I imagined her, but then the other day I went into the wrong part of the building and there she was working in the Translation Department! Did you know we had one of those?”
“Yes I did; did you think the foreign reports magically appeared on our desks?”
“Nah, I just never thought about it.”
“Right, so have you spoken to her?”
“Yeah.”
“And has she fallen into your arms?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”
“Does she know your name?”
“Of course.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Didn’t need to, everyone knows me!”
“But did she actually say she knew your name?”
“Well,” Alfred actually looked like he was considering it for a moment, “Well no, but everyone knows who I am!”
Arthur sighed; he had forgotten that in the world of Alfred F. Jones, everyone had a secret shrine dedicated to worshipping the American.
“Right... Alfred, before you book the church, there’s something you need to know.”
“What’s that?”
“First of all, I don’t know her too well but the rumours are that Natalya is insane. Not in the cute, accidentally stabbing you way, but as in ‘future homicidal maniac’,”
“Aw, you’re just overreacting!”
“I’m not, and she’s also -”
Some obnoxious rap tune started playing, and Alfred pulled out his phone, “Hi Liz!”
“Alfred!” Arthur heard Elizaveta’s voice shoot through the phone earpiece, “where are you, you have that interview in five minutes!”
“I do?” Alfred looked at his watch, “Aw, crap you’re right!” He shot up and ran off towards the hallway with a quick, “See ya later!”
Sometimes having a friend as arrogant yet friendly as Alfred was a real hassle, but he seemed delusional and very keen on her, so he might as well warn him.
Arthur took out his mobile phone and sent a text to Alfred of what he was trying to tell him earlier. At least Alfred couldn’t accuse him of not trying...
Arthur to Alfred:
She’s Ivan’s little sister!
.
[Studio Control Room]
“Why Ludwig, what a pleasant surprise.” Ivan’s friendly smile had an almost eerie, dangerous sheen in the dark room, “I hope you aren’t checking on me again.”
“No, just want to make sure tonight runs smoothly.” Ludwig took a seat near the back.
“Why don’t you sit closer to me?”
“If anything happens I want to be close to the door in case I need to go out there and bash their heads together.”
[Studio floor]
“Just want to make sure there’s no shine in the lights,” Anaïs said as she carefully ran the lightly dusted powder brush across Francis’s forehead, her hand on his shoulder to make sure he wouldn’t move away. When she seemed satisfied she smiled and straightened slightly. “There, perfect.” Arthur was sat next to Francis on the sofa and had seen the frog’s eyes shamelessly run over the makeup artist’s body in her tight clothes, and now the bastard winked at her.
“I know you, you were new here before I left, and I must say you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
The blonde girl’s smile grew and she blushed prettily, “and you’re just as charming as I remember. Unlike so many here, you know how to make a girl feel special.”
“But you are special! You make me look good and your face makes me feel very good.” Oh, surely that was harassment, but the girl only giggled.
“Quand on se fait draguer, on se sent toujours spécial.”
“Ça illumine la journée”
“Oui.” She giggled again and Francis smiled as he lightly stroked her arm that was still on his shoulder. They spoke a few more words before she left, with Francis eyeing her pert bottom.
Well, Anaïs had been doing Arthur’s makeup for years and seemed perfectly nice; it was only now that he knew she was a French speaking tart. Really, flirting with Francis indicated very low standards. To look casual he flicked through the reports and tried not to think about how much he wanted a cigarette.
“Up to your old tricks again, I see.”
Francis looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “ ‘Old tricks’? I don’t know what you mean; it costs nothing to be friendly.”
“What you call friendly is known as sexual harassment in the real world.”
“Ah, I forget that some people know nothing of flirting.”
“I know plenty about flirting, thank you, but I’ve experienced your kind of flirtation and it’s like radiation poisoning.”
“Fits your poison tongue.”
[“Is everything okay?”] Ludwig’s voice came over the studio intercom.
“Fine!” Both spoke at the same time, then glanced at each other when they realised what they’d done.
When he looked away, Arthur had to bite the inside of his cheek to remind himself not to punch the bastard. He vaguely heard Elizaveta call out two minutes until air. He took a deep breath.
Francis laughed slightly, and when he looked at him the Frenchman was looking away and running a hand through his golden hair, “It’s been a while since I last did this, I hope you’ll be gentle with me.”
“Not scared are you?”
“Well, you almost killed the last guy with your sour face.”
“Yes, my sour face and not the fact that everything De Luca ate was smothered in butter.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Hmph.” Arthur checked his hair then ran his hand around his shirt collar to make sure nothing was out of place.
Francis picked up his papers to check they were all in order, and asked casually, “can I speak honestly with you?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“It’s about what happened before with us -”
“‘Us’? What, oh, that. Forgotten all about it. And there was no ‘us’ anyway -”
“ - I feel terrible about it, a crude text message is not really my way at all -”
“ - brief moment of weakness and delusion, don’t know what came over me -”
“ - and I know you must have felt humiliated -”
“ - dating a self-deluded egomaniac -”
“ - but things happened and I just had to follow my career - ”
“ - in fact I would say you must have slipped something in my tea -”
“ - so I won’t hold it against you if you feel wounded, cheri -”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Arthur didn’t expect that come out so loudly; neither did Francis by the way he jumped and hissed at him to shut up, but it was too late.
[“What the hell is going on?”] There was a slight scraping noise. [“Do I need to come down there?”]
“No.”
“Everything’s fine.”
There was a slight lull, then Arthur muttered, “by the way, there’s something on your face.”
“Oh course there is, what is it, spinach? Really Arthur, that is such an old trick.”
“Well I was only trying to help.”
“Five...” Elizaveta called out by the cameras. She wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation because they were professionals, once they were on air all personal conversations would stop.
“You expect me to believe that? You only want to embarrass me.”
“Four...”
“You expect me to be so petty?”
“Three...”
“I know you love watching others suffer, it’s the only time you look gleeful.”
“Two...”
“I don’t know what you mean; I never enjoyed other people’s suffering.”
“One...”
“Tell me Arthur, why you have to act like such a difficult - ”
[“Cue Bonnefoy.”]
“ - little prick.”
[Studio Control Room]
“ - little prick.”
There was a slight silence while the British man smiled almost gleefully at the camera, “And I’m Arthur Kirkland! Tonight we’ll be looking into the event of the latest Nuclear Council’s summit.” Francis obviously noticed his on screen faux-pas and winced slightly, but then smiled and carried on with his script.
All activity in the room stopped, and everyone turned to look at the men in charge to see their reaction. Ivan seemed to be pouting slightly, which meant he was a step away from stabbing someone, and Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes screwed shut. This was bad.
“I think,” Ivan said softly, “we’re going to have a problem.”
________________________________________
Sand in vagina line is from South Park.
Names:
Leif - Iceland
Anaïs - Belgium
Translations:
"Quand on se fait draguer, on se sent toujours spécial/when someone flirts with you, you always feel special"
"Ça illumine la journée/it brightens up your day"