[fanfic] Spitfire/Messerschmitt
Title: The Magnolia
Author: strawberrymello
Type: Fanfic
Characters/Pairings: Spitfire/Messerschmitt
Rating: PG-13
Description: Spitfire has a proposition for Messerschmitt.
Japanisches Kaiserreich Mitternacht Marine is a comic by Rokuzaki, and can be found here. If you do not know of the disclaimer, please read it here.
Yeah, this fic is gonna be a giant cockblock for some people. I'VE NEVER WRITTEN PORN BEFORE, OKAY. /sob
Also, a quick question. Which seems more natural in fic, using their official names or their "human" names?
------------------------------------------
Spitfire stirred milk into his tea and watched the man across him pick uncomfortably at his sandwiches.
"It really was so good of you to come," he said, folding his hands on the table. "After all, what better way to get back on good terms than by having tea? And The Magnolia is, in my humble opinon, the best tea shop in the city."
Messerschmitt grunted. "Sprechen Sie Englisch so viel wie Sie wollen. Ich werde sprechen Deutsch, danke."
"Perhaps you've mistaken my meaning." Spitfire grinned. "We may have been enemies, even rivals, during the War, but now that it's over there really is no need for you to be so much on edge. In any case, we're on my soil, so I'd really rather we speak the Queen's. If only for propriety's sake. Didn't you learn any sort of humility from the first World War?"
Messerschmitt bristled. "And it was precisely that sort of attitude that led us into this mess in the first place. You people always feel this need to show off your victories don't you. So if you don't want to had down that road again, I suggest you use at least a little of that fabled British civility."
Spitfire eyed him from across the table. Messerschmitt wasn't acting near as much the graciously defeated soldier as he'd hoped. Perhaps this wouldn't work out as smoothly as he'd hoped. Even so, at least he'd switched to English. And he was talking. Maybe there was hope.
"I think," Spitfire pushed a cake over to his companion. "that we might have started this little chat off on the wrong foot. Allow me to, as the Americans say, 'cut to the chase'. The both of us know the War is over. And in my way of seeing things, two are a little bit the products of an age already past. And that, my dear, is why I've invited you to tea today."
Messerschmitt blinked. "Be glad you've interested me enough for me not to take offense at being called outdated. Continue."
"That's the spirit! I knew you'd come around. Well. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me on a little excursion."
Messerschmitt finally took a bite of his cake, chewing it thoroughly while giving Spitfire a good, hard look. "You better have a damn good explanation for those words I just heard come from your mouth."
"As a matter of face, I have just that." Spitfire steepled his fingers. "Two old soldiers like us, if you'll excuse my phrase, really should leave all this post-war nonsense to the younger men. Like those Americans. I think we can both agree they're more than enthusiastic about that prospect. So I was thinking to myself, why not leave them to it, and take a little holiday? Of course, no holiday is complete without a good traveling companion, and for some silly reason I thought perhaps you'd be interested. We could visit the Americas, or the South Pacific. So, my dear, what do you think?"
Messerschmitt placed his silverware on the table and got up to leave. "I think if you had wanted to mock me there are far less absurd ways to go about doing it." He grabbed his coat and made for the door.
Spitfire sighed. Or course Messerschmitt would take it that way. He should have just gone with his original plan in the first place.
Messerschmitt was nearly at the door. Spitfire stood up, cursed under his breath, dashed across the room, swinging the larger man around and kissing him squarely on his very startled lips.
When the two finally broke for breath, Messerschmitt said, "Why didn't you just do that in the first place?"
"I've really been asking myself the same question. My place or yours?" Spitfire glanced around the room.
"Ah, whatever happened to our little holiday? Didn't you want to visit America?"
"Shut up. Come on, we'll go to my place. Knowing you, you're probably staying in some horrid little inn where the maids check in on you every minute of the day."
------------------------------------------
Hours later, the two lay in Spitfire's bed, in Spitfire's apartment.
"Your hair is a real mess," Messerschmitt laughed, tangling his fingers up in Spitfire's red locks.
Spitfire batted his hands away. "Stop that, you're making it worse. And it's not as if yours is much better. Anyway, I'm hungry. Are you hungry? I've got some scones, I think."
Messerschmitt grimaced. "Your scones are horrific. I'd rather eat month-old war rations."
"That could be arranged," Spitfire grinned, sitting up. "We have an absolute ton of leftovers from the War."
"But they'd still be your leftovers. At least we Germans actually feed our soldiers properly."
"Well fine," Spitfire pouted. "If that's how you're going to be, then you won't be getting anything. Nothing whatsoever."
Messerschmitt arched an eyebrow. "At what is that supposed to mean, I wonder?"
"Mmmmm, I really couldn't say. But I suppose, if you said you'd come with me on my holiday, I might be persuaded to give you a little taste of what you're missing," Spitfire trailed off, glancing at the other man's form hidden under the sheets.
"I think I like the sound of that," Messerschmitt grinned predatorily, reaching up to wrap his arm around Spitfire's body and dragging him down on top of him. His hands returned once more to Spitfire's ginger curls and the two soldiers came together for a kiss, Spitfire's lips parting for the other man, their tongues briefly touching.
Abruptly, Messerschmitt stopped. "We forgot something. Something very important."
"Something so important you had to stop what you were doing?" Spitfire whined.
Messerschmitt nodded. "We forgot the most important question of all. America or the South Pacific?"
Author: strawberrymello
Type: Fanfic
Characters/Pairings: Spitfire/Messerschmitt
Rating: PG-13
Description: Spitfire has a proposition for Messerschmitt.
Japanisches Kaiserreich Mitternacht Marine is a comic by Rokuzaki, and can be found here. If you do not know of the disclaimer, please read it here.
Yeah, this fic is gonna be a giant cockblock for some people. I'VE NEVER WRITTEN PORN BEFORE, OKAY. /sob
Also, a quick question. Which seems more natural in fic, using their official names or their "human" names?
------------------------------------------
Spitfire stirred milk into his tea and watched the man across him pick uncomfortably at his sandwiches.
"It really was so good of you to come," he said, folding his hands on the table. "After all, what better way to get back on good terms than by having tea? And The Magnolia is, in my humble opinon, the best tea shop in the city."
Messerschmitt grunted. "Sprechen Sie Englisch so viel wie Sie wollen. Ich werde sprechen Deutsch, danke."
"Perhaps you've mistaken my meaning." Spitfire grinned. "We may have been enemies, even rivals, during the War, but now that it's over there really is no need for you to be so much on edge. In any case, we're on my soil, so I'd really rather we speak the Queen's. If only for propriety's sake. Didn't you learn any sort of humility from the first World War?"
Messerschmitt bristled. "And it was precisely that sort of attitude that led us into this mess in the first place. You people always feel this need to show off your victories don't you. So if you don't want to had down that road again, I suggest you use at least a little of that fabled British civility."
Spitfire eyed him from across the table. Messerschmitt wasn't acting near as much the graciously defeated soldier as he'd hoped. Perhaps this wouldn't work out as smoothly as he'd hoped. Even so, at least he'd switched to English. And he was talking. Maybe there was hope.
"I think," Spitfire pushed a cake over to his companion. "that we might have started this little chat off on the wrong foot. Allow me to, as the Americans say, 'cut to the chase'. The both of us know the War is over. And in my way of seeing things, two are a little bit the products of an age already past. And that, my dear, is why I've invited you to tea today."
Messerschmitt blinked. "Be glad you've interested me enough for me not to take offense at being called outdated. Continue."
"That's the spirit! I knew you'd come around. Well. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me on a little excursion."
Messerschmitt finally took a bite of his cake, chewing it thoroughly while giving Spitfire a good, hard look. "You better have a damn good explanation for those words I just heard come from your mouth."
"As a matter of face, I have just that." Spitfire steepled his fingers. "Two old soldiers like us, if you'll excuse my phrase, really should leave all this post-war nonsense to the younger men. Like those Americans. I think we can both agree they're more than enthusiastic about that prospect. So I was thinking to myself, why not leave them to it, and take a little holiday? Of course, no holiday is complete without a good traveling companion, and for some silly reason I thought perhaps you'd be interested. We could visit the Americas, or the South Pacific. So, my dear, what do you think?"
Messerschmitt placed his silverware on the table and got up to leave. "I think if you had wanted to mock me there are far less absurd ways to go about doing it." He grabbed his coat and made for the door.
Spitfire sighed. Or course Messerschmitt would take it that way. He should have just gone with his original plan in the first place.
Messerschmitt was nearly at the door. Spitfire stood up, cursed under his breath, dashed across the room, swinging the larger man around and kissing him squarely on his very startled lips.
When the two finally broke for breath, Messerschmitt said, "Why didn't you just do that in the first place?"
"I've really been asking myself the same question. My place or yours?" Spitfire glanced around the room.
"Ah, whatever happened to our little holiday? Didn't you want to visit America?"
"Shut up. Come on, we'll go to my place. Knowing you, you're probably staying in some horrid little inn where the maids check in on you every minute of the day."
------------------------------------------
Hours later, the two lay in Spitfire's bed, in Spitfire's apartment.
"Your hair is a real mess," Messerschmitt laughed, tangling his fingers up in Spitfire's red locks.
Spitfire batted his hands away. "Stop that, you're making it worse. And it's not as if yours is much better. Anyway, I'm hungry. Are you hungry? I've got some scones, I think."
Messerschmitt grimaced. "Your scones are horrific. I'd rather eat month-old war rations."
"That could be arranged," Spitfire grinned, sitting up. "We have an absolute ton of leftovers from the War."
"But they'd still be your leftovers. At least we Germans actually feed our soldiers properly."
"Well fine," Spitfire pouted. "If that's how you're going to be, then you won't be getting anything. Nothing whatsoever."
Messerschmitt arched an eyebrow. "At what is that supposed to mean, I wonder?"
"Mmmmm, I really couldn't say. But I suppose, if you said you'd come with me on my holiday, I might be persuaded to give you a little taste of what you're missing," Spitfire trailed off, glancing at the other man's form hidden under the sheets.
"I think I like the sound of that," Messerschmitt grinned predatorily, reaching up to wrap his arm around Spitfire's body and dragging him down on top of him. His hands returned once more to Spitfire's ginger curls and the two soldiers came together for a kiss, Spitfire's lips parting for the other man, their tongues briefly touching.
Abruptly, Messerschmitt stopped. "We forgot something. Something very important."
"Something so important you had to stop what you were doing?" Spitfire whined.
Messerschmitt nodded. "We forgot the most important question of all. America or the South Pacific?"