[Fanfic] - Any Other City - November
Title: Any Other City - Chapter 5
Rating: PG-15?
Characters: Ensemble
Parings: France/Spain, Austria/Leichtenstein, Germany/Japan, France/Norway, England/fem!Netherlands, Prussia/fem!Romano, Norway/Japan
Summary: Derpy AU where the nations are hipsters.
In This Chapter: Francis and Antonio figure out their relationship, Eirik does performance art at The Scam, Gilbert, Alfred, and Feliks go thrifting, Kiku and Nils watch a lot of movies, Eirik and Natalia get sushi.
Warnings: Language, drinking, drugs, mild sexual situations.
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NOVEMBER
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Kiku opened his eyes and saw Ivan asleep below him on the floor. Sunlight streamed across his face, illuminating an open mouth that was drooling on an improvised bear-head pillow, his body surrounded by a wide variety of abandoned food containers and controllers. Kiku snapped a quick picture with his phone...now, he should find the bathroom. Where was that, again? He padded down the hall and made to grab the door handle, but the door flew open right as he put his arm out. He was firstly assaulted by the smell of bile, stale beer, and sweat - he looked up to see a terrifying vision of bleary, bloodshot eyes surrounded by sooty paint and long, matted hair. All of this was underscored by a jagged frown made all the more menacing by a split and swollen lip.
They both stood stock-still for a moment, surprised, then Nils grumbled something inarticulate, shoved past Kiku, and vanished into a room further down the hall.
---
Pictures from the party had gone up on Neon Shark by the next night. Alfred and Gilbert were at Alfred’s computer, excitedly clicking through them and commenting.
“Hey, that’s you, Alfredo!” Gilbert said right into Alfred’s ear and pointed to the screen. It was a picture shot through the crowd of both Bender and the jellyfish, in the middle of a hilariously over-animated conversation. “You chumps look like you’re three-year-olds learning to dance,” Gilbert snarked, “or maybe just retarded.” Alfred shouted a “Hey!” and shoved him over, then clicked on, flipping through a set of people he didn’t know rather quickly.
He paused at a picture of Daft Punk grinding against one another on the dance floor and laughed - Gilbert elbowed him and growled that he didn’t want his eyes to be burned out from looking too long, and what, was he gay or something? Alfred continued scrolling.
“Whoa - stop! Look at how fuckin’ punk ass we all look!” Gilbert said at the first mosh pit photo that came up. The two talked about how cool they were, how cool moshing was, how cool the whole party was, and took their time going through the rest.
“Wow, dude,” Alfred leaned into the screen for a better look, “guess I was more drunk than I thought - when did so much blood get everywhere? Who got that injured? ‘Cuz, huh, Nils split his lip - and I think Arthur got smashed with a bottle -”
Gilbert cackled and crowed out “I swiped Nils’ fake blood from right under his painty nose! Tossed it around during “My Shadow” - got all you suckers covered and no one even noticed!”
“Sweet!” Alfred held out his arm they shared and knuckle-jarring fist bump. “We look scary,” he grinned.
“Hell yeah!” Gilbert agreed. “We are some goddamn awful, violent, terrifying motherfuckers!”
“We’ll cut you up!”
“We’ll eat your children!”
“We’ll rape your mothers!”
“We’ll rape your fathers!”
“We - ahahah fathers! Father-rapers*!” Alfred howled.
“Hey, our creepy-bear,” Gilbert pointed, smearing his finger on the screen. A dancing Ivan was plainly visible, looming above the crowd in his Radiohead bear costume.
“He should wear that thing all the time!” Alfred chirped. Gilbert snorted and reached over to click to the next photo with a hard punch of his fingers onto the mouse.
They both stopped for a second - Alfred opened his mouth first with a “Dude, score! What a babe!” before Gilbert yowled “The fuck? Why don’t I remember that?!”
“What?! How could you forget that?” Alfred gestured to the screen, where Gilbert and a very attractive steampunk girl were sucking each other’s faces off.
Gilbert looked like he had just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. Or pouring out all of his beer. Or had been told cigarettes were now $20 a pack. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he moaned.
“Do ya remember moshing - wait, you were just talkin’ about it. Okay, so, you moshed,” Alfred tapped his fingers on the desk. “Then I didn’t see you for a while - found ya outside when I was leavin’.”
“Yeah,” Gilbert frowned. “I moshed and messed all you losers up - and then...” a deeper frown “...it gets fuzzy...this is so lame, Alfredo. Next thing I remember I was outside on the street with that Xerxes guy, we were having this amazing epic blood battle!” he cackled. “Then...” another frown. “It’s goddamn fuzzy again - just flashes of things until I woke up today.”
“Bummer,” Alfred sighed and patted his pal’s back in sympathy. “At least you got some?”
---
Francis and Antonio were seated next to each other in a corner of a cafe they frequented fairly often. Their waitress came by and asked if they wanted the usual, and Francis felt a twinge in his chest at the expression that crossed Antonio’s face for a fleeting moment. They watched her go and sat in silence, pleasantries having been exchanged before she came by. Francis fiddled with his shirt cuff, trying not to look over and cursing that everything he tried to say died in his throat. Antonio beat out a rhythm with his fork on the tabletop and sang along to the music playing under his breath, seemingly oblivious to Francis’ plight.
“I...” Francis started. A latte was placed in front of him.
Antonio sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows, still humming the song.
Francis took a deep breath. Since when were these things so hard? “I didn’t think we were exclusive, dear,” he finally said, wearily.
Antonio tilted his head and looked at Francis with a bit of confusion, no longer humming, but not saying anything else either.
“Oh,” Francis inhaled. “...you have been, haven’t you?”
Still no verbal response - Antonio merely smiled while he moved in his seat a little, then shrugged and laughed.
How could he act so lighthearted? The silence was crushing; the air around them seemed to sink into Francis’ stomach, press against his lungs, paralyze his throat. A nervous “Do you want to be?” made it out into the space between them.
“Do you?” Antonio asked, genuinely curious.
More crushing silence. Francis let his gaze go unfocused and low, the grain of the table smearing into something resembling a child’s fingerpaint experiments in browns and blacks. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but Antonio’s sigh brought him out of his trance.
“Take some time to figure out what you want,” Antonio smiled, brushing a strand of Francis’ hair behind his ear. Francis’ gaze snapped to him, alarmed. “I’m not angry,” Antonio laughed.
“Then why-”
“You need time to think! You always do call yourself a philosopher,” Antonio tapped him on the temple teasingly. His gaze became serious. “Get back to me. You know how I feel.” He kissed Francis on the cheek and got up, whistling a tune Francis didn’t know as he went out the door.
Francis watched until he couldn’t see the ratty jacket he had always griped about so much any longer, then continued staring out the window, lost in thought. He brought his beverage to his lips, took a sip, and barely refrained from spitting it right back out.
He looked down at it, frowning.
It had gone cold.
---
“Do what he told you to,” Roderich shrugged from his place behind the desk.
Francis huffed and shifted his pose, leaning his hip further into the wood. “Yes, but you see, thinking about it is all that I have been doing.”
Roderich hummed. He didn’t know what else to say about it; he’d heard everything from Francis this morning at work, both of them putting off things that should have been done around the store. He did have a different question though. “What will you do about Nils?”
“Nils?”
“Yes, Nils,” Roderich retorted.
“Why, nothing,” Francis frowned. “I doubt he will mention it.”
Roderich just put his head in his hand and shook it, sighing. How did he ever become acquainted with these sorts of people?
---
Nils walked in, ramrod-straight, and looked between the two. “I assume I still work here.”
“Oh, please -” Francis flapped a hand, “You are in college, non? You know how these things go. You drink, do something silly, life goes on.” He shrugged. “Now, be a dear and start on the inventory in the back - I’m afraid we’re a bit behind, today.”
“Your hair looks much better with that cut, by the way!” he called to Nils’ back.
---
Huh, Nils thought, pulling boxes from the shelves in the back, that was weird. Right back to normal. The man even grabbed his arm while telling him about the inventory.
---
“You’re still going to hang all over the poor kid, aren’t you,” Roderich sighed.
“I am a tactile being!” Francis remarked, sounding defensive. “It would be like telling you to stop your incessant humming.”
“...I hum?”
---
The Scam was currently playing host to a humble but intimate gathering of people, who were mingling around or sitting within a taped-off area on the floor, facing the back wall.
Bella, Lili, and Natalia had set up camp in the taped box, determined to have the best seats in the house for Eirik’s performance. Tina, after talking to Elizabeta, bounded over and sat with them. Ludwig and Alfred came in and both took up posts next to Natalia. Ludwig and Natalia’s conversation was only interrupted for a bit by Alfred’s inane interjections, and then Tina cut in and, unsurprisingly, she and Alfred ended up talking each others’ ears off instead, despite just meeting one another.
Kiku arrived with Ivan; Roderich arrived with Jens. Ivan sat in the back of the box, mindful of his height, while Kiku sat next to Ludwig and tried to initiate conversation. Ludwig seemed to be taken in by Alfred and Tina’s conversation, however, and Kiku soon gave up on it, exchanging a few words with Natalia instead. Roderich sat in the back with Ivan, while Jens sat closer to the front of the group. The younger girls giggled and fawned over the cute, mild-mannered new guy; Roderich tried not to pout when he noticed that Lili was one of those girls.
A few more people filed in, Arthur and Eliza joined, then a skinny, bespectacled guy with a robotic bowl cut waved at them to signal that things were starting, and the lights went out.
---
A single, blinding floodlight pointed to the audience - it silhouetted a dark figure kneeling, facing them, its head against something long and thin. Rumbling bass sounded, and the slight body rose with jerky, odd movements, music growing louder as it did so. It finally stood, skewed a little, seemingly off-balance and foreign, a solid black shape against the glare of the light. The rumbling slowly built up, vibrations filled the air - made breathing difficult - shook the floor, the walls. It sounded like a cross between an incoming storm, a train, and a collection of singing saws. An arm twisted with a lurch, moving the long, thin object to the side; in profile, it looked like a sci-fi, space age gun. It was raised with more halting movements, then the music screeched and the silhouette turned around.
Another set of lights flashed, pointed backwards, away from both the figure and the audience - they illuminated a white-painted back wall with round black somethings scattered along the top, like bugs, or birds, or maybe an army of airborne craft in the distance - and - red paintball splatters streaked across the wall. Blood red. Some of the paintballs burst the dark balloons hanging, and black paint from within slipped down the wall, mixing with the red.
Silence reigned, somehow even more deafening than the thunder from before - the gun fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Suddenly everything was thrown into complete darkness - the halting sounds of deliberately drawn-out shuffling and scraping across the floor could be heard for the next few minutes. The darkness felt hot, claustrophobic, every noise seemed amplified to senses on high alert. Silence, again, and for nearly a minute and nothing happened, nothing moved. Just impenetrable darkness. Then the soft, distorted sound of a husky, androgynous voice, singing in either a language no one present knew or incomprehensible lilting. It was creepy; it was gorgeous. It grew louder, looped, amplified - a quick but spare and bittersweet piano melody, rising through the distorted vocals like a babbling brook, began at the same time softer lights flickered to life.
An unrecognizable figure in white stood rocking at a keyboard, movements across the keys jumpy, eyes turned down and lips moving through the only holes in an otherwise completely flat, blank, white mask. White mask, white painted face and lips underneath, white painted neck and hands, tight, white brokenly paneled and strapped jacket and pants, white shoes. The only color in the outfit was still monochrome - a metallic head brace, altered to hold a cordless mic to the figure’s lips.
The eyes behind the mask opened, their odd light violet color even more pronounced than normal. A jerk of an arm to a switch atop the keyboard, and the soft pale glow of light changed to a bright, blue-tinged strobe - at the same time the tempo of the piano melody picked up, but the tune became more melancholy. The soft, distorted vocals became looped wails. Previously jerky movements were now utterly alien looking, frightening. The paint continued to drip down the wall, the wall coming alive between each flicker of light, splatters and strings of tar and blood.
The keyboard suddenly stopped, leaving only looped wails remaining. From underneath the mask, dark liquid slipped down a thin neck - too dark to be blood, too fluid to be tar. A flinch made more harsh by the flashing lights, then a stumbling backpedal, a body hitting the back wall, smearing and tangled in the paint, liquid staining the white ensemble...the body slid down the wall, the lights went out a final time, and eerie, fuzzed-out vocals lasted for a minute more before fading out.
---
Roderich was making his way out, even though the rest of those present were still mingling and discussing the performance - he was tired. He heard a “hey!” and had half-turned when he suddenly found himself with an armful of laughing, amazing-smelling young lady, who leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, and said “Just wanted to say hi before you left!” before he could even process it. She took off - dazed, he waved to her, but she was already back to her friends.
He hastily shoved his hands in his pockets, and once outside he swallowed, shook his head, and tried to calm himself down.
Home. Home now.
---
“Alfred, what’re you doing. We’ve been standing here for five minutes looking at goddamn strips of cloth,” Gilbert whined, gazing longingly over at the miscellaneous section of the thrift store.
“I’ve gotta get an amazing scarf for this winter!” Alfred replied, sifting through a bin of them. “All of my old ones are kinda lame. Or got destroyed. How does that happen, anyway? Why don’t you need new scarves every year?”
“Please, Al, he needs a new everything for his closet,” Feliks said slowly, pausing to pinch a prospect between two fingers and pulling it up from the pile in a manner that suggested he thought it might surge up and bite him.
“Feliks, just because I’m not some sparkly little fag doesn’t mean my clothes aren’t sexy and devastating,” Gilbert winked.
“Oh, is that it?” Feliks retorted. “Your outfit is so “devastating” because you wear it, like, literally every day. Ugh. Tell your mother to buy some t-shirts from, ew, Wal-Mart or something for Christmas - obviously no more than three dollars should be spent on your rags,” he sniffed.
“Ha, okay!” Gilbert barked. “I’ll even tell her to buy an extra pack - that can be what I get you for Christmas this year,” he stuck his tongue out at Feliks.
Feliks glared. “I’d be shivering in fear - except, you know, since when did you ever get someone a Christmas present? How about never?”
“Hey guys!” Alfred said in a way-too-happy voice.
Both Feliks and Gilbert turned to him, identical expressions of “huh?” on their faces. Alfred was waving at something behind them - oh.
Ivan, Kiku, Berwald, and Roderich were on the other side of the store, but making their way over. Gilbert frowned. Now it was gonna take twice as long to get to the section he wanted to be in! It always takes longer when you’re in a group. But then, in the middle of a rant about the many types of thrift store smells, Alfred invited them all over - Roderich declined, as he had to tutor a student soon - and for some reason that sped everyone up.
---
They arrived home just as Nils was heading out the door. “Hey,” he nodded to the crew in the living room, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the hallway.
“Aw, you’re leaving? C’mon man, we’re gonna hang here for a bit - don’t be so shy!” Alfred grinned.
“The movie starts soon. I’m going.” Nils said, decisively. “You guys can come if you want,” he shrugged. “They’re showing Hausu at M-16 tonight.”
A flurry of responses: “I’ll bet this’ll be more fun! With all of these cool bros? Failproof!” “I don’t like that bar. Like, total metalhead dive bar. Grody.” “I’m permanently banned. Pissy little fuckers, it was an old T.V. anyway.” “It is loud there, yes? I would rather not.”
Kiku looked up and asked if the movie was Japanese. Nils nodded.
---
On the way there, Kiku asked what the movie was about. Nils tried his best, but all he really got out was “It’s...Jesus, how to - okay -” a sigh - “a 1977 Japanese haunted house horror-comedy on acid.”
“This sounds interesting.”
“I’m serious. Acid. A cat painting spews blood. A guy turns into a pile of bananas. Furniture eats people. Fucked-up editing. Shitty effects. Neon and disembodied floating things all over the place.”
---
They grabbed some drinks at the bar and situated themselves in a dark corner in the back room with a good line-of-sight to the projector screen. Thrash was playing too loudly to really talk, so Nils flipped through the tabletop burger menu.
“Want a burger?” Nils shouted across the tiny table, pointing at the menu.
Kiku shook his head and Nils barely heard his reply of “I’m a vegetarian. Thank you though.”
Nils nodded and signaled that he’d be back, then went to order himself one at the bar. The burgers here were huge and goddamn delicious.
---
The credits stopped rolling and Nils turned to Kiku. “So?”
“....wow.”
Nils nodded, sipping his beer.
Kiku shook his head. “That...I do not know what to say about it.”
Nils shrugged. “You don’t have to.”
---
Feliks and Berwald were sitting together at a bar - at the bar of a gay bar, to be precise - because, while talking to Berwald in the Hjortdonner living room, Feliks had made the executive decision that Berwald needed to go out and meet some eligible men. Eligible men who also liked men. So off they went, Berwald metaphorically dragging his heels the whole way.
The problem seemed to be that either the men were scared of Berwald, or Berwald was scared of them. Feliks had heard that the man was intimidating from others, but he didn’t really get it. He shrugged to himself, downing his drink, while watching the second scenario happen - again - with a bit of dark amusement.
A very queeny fellow was hanging all over Berwald, being very forward, flirtatious, and touchy. Berwald was obviously frozen in terror, eyes wide and his normally-limited vocabulary reduced to the occasional noise.
Feliks sighed. This whole situation was a hot mess. Berwald just wanted a normal man - not a queen, not a bear, just a guy - and all of these strangers touching him were just freaking him out.
Feliks walked over and waved the offending man off, turning to Berwald with a hand on his hip. “Okay, fuck this sitch,” he stated. “Let’s just go to, like, that total tranny dive on Adams and 12th, get trashed, watch some God-awful drag queens and make fun of ‘em.”
---
The weekend after Hausu, Kiku went over to the Hjortdonner house and watched the MST3k version of Space Mutiny with all of them, plus Antonio, who made an enormous bowl of popcorn and then plopped down on the floor. Alfred and Gilbert got really high and giggled for practically the entire 93 minutes; one would yell something at the screen, the other would one-up the first, occasionally Nils would join with something snappy, and eventually the other four were laughing so hard Kiku had to pause the movie. They would calm down and the process would start over.
Gilbert had been hiccuping for ten minutes, and was now hanging over the side of the couch, howling and clutching his stomach - after an underwhelming chase scene the two vehicles onscreen exploded, and Alfred let out a loud keen and fell straight off the couch and onto Antonio.
A loud hiccup tore through the air and Gilbert clapped a hand over his mouth, still twitching with repressed laughs. No one thought anything of it until he yanked the empty popcorn bowl toward himself and vomited, spluttering and choking through chuckles.
Alfred immediately began howling at Gilbert, pointing at him and seizing up into a ball. Antonio smiled and then joined in. Kiku looked over to Nils - and completely lost it when he saw the shocked look etched across his features. Kiku’s mirth snapped him out of it, apparently, because the two of them were soon trying not to fall off of the couch themselves while Alfred rolled around on the floor and wheezed “You threw up! You threw up!” whenever he had enough air.
---
For Thanksgiving, Kiku brought over Alfred Hitchcock’s Masterpiece Collection, and he and Nils sat on the couch and had a marathon. Nils tossed him a package of portabello mushrooms and they made mushroom burgers for dinner.
The house was strangely silent without Alfred or Gilbert. Everyone that they knew in town, save themselves, was dining with their family. They didn’t bring it up, and when Gilbert came in and asked “Why the fuck are you two dweebs sittin’ here in the dark?” he just got two flat stares in answer.
---
The next weekend found them watching Machine Girl in Kiku’s room, drinking sake on Kiku’s tatami mat and commenting on the overabundance of blood in the movie. Nils was sprawled back, propped up on his elbows to watch the movie, and Kiku sat beside him cross-legged, laughing at discrepancies between the subtitles and the actual dialogue.
The credits rolled and Nils flopped back, happily buzzed, and brushed a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes.
“I like your hair like this,” Kiku murmured.
“Hmm? As opposed to what?”
“As opposed to when I met you.” At that, Nils looked confused. “The morning after the Halloween party,” Kiku clarified.
Nils’ eyes widened. “Holy shit!” he laughed quietly. “I probably looked like a disaster. I don’t even remember seeing you.”
Kiku raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“No. I was still drunk when I woke up. Worst hangover of my life,” he groaned and turned slightly to Kiku, closing his eyes for a minute.
“Well. You did look like a disaster,” Kiku smiled and leaned forward, bracing an arm on his knee and resting his head on his hand. “I didn’t realize you were the same person, the next time I saw you,” he admitted.
“That’s good,” Nils muttered.
“Oh?”
“I would hate for you to think I’m that gross.” He looked up at Kiku and quirked his lips, before turning on his side completely and lifting himself up on one elbow again.
Kiku leaned in and brushed away the hair that fell in Nils’ eyes, openly smiling. “I don’t think you’re gross,” was almost whispered.
Nils fell silent, eyes flickering across Kiku’s face. By now the credits had ended - he watched as the changing colors of the screen saver flashed across Kiku’s features and added odd highlights to his hair. He swallowed, and it was loud in the quiet left behind by the movie. He reached out and touched one of the colors highlighting Kiku’s cheekbone - “I don’t think you’re gross, either,” he breathlessly got out.
Kiku leaned into the touch a moment, then closed the gap between them with deliberate slowness. Nils’ eyes fell shut automatically and their lips touched, dry and tentative, then parted, before becoming a series of soft, chaste kisses.
Nils raised a clammy hand to hold the turn of Kiku’s jaw, and the kiss turned into an open-mouthed one, tongues barely brushing. A little deeper, then - Nils could taste the sweet sake from earlier, and it made his heart skitter against his ribs - Kiku placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back down to the mat and settling half-over him, stretching out. Their lips remained together the entire time. A small noise escaped from the back of Nils’ throat and he ran his hand down Kiku’s side as Kiku slid a hand behind his ear and through his hair.
Kiku’s fingers moved from his hair, lightly traced down his throat. A thumb ran along his collarbone, a splayed hand delicately slid down his chest, and finally the hand slid under his shirt, pushing up along the planes of his stomach and bunching the shirt along with it.
Nils broke off and pulled back for a second, nearly panting. “Are - are you and...?” he trailed off.
Kiku looked confused for only a moment, then said “We’ve gone on a few dates...nothing big.” At Nils’ hesitation he blushingly added “We’ve barely kissed.”
Nils nodded and let his thumb rub light circles into Kiku’s side.
“Also,” Kiku smirked with his eyes, “I think he likes Alfred.”
Nils let out a small huff of laughter at that. “You too?”
Kiku nodded and they smiled at each other a moment before meeting again. Nils stayed late, twined with Kiku on the mat, simply content to let their bodies and mouths touch and explore.
---
“How would you feel if you were the only man I saw?” Francis asked, sitting close to Antonio on Antonio’s couch.
Antonio frowned. “I told you that’s what I wanted,” he said, confused.
“Ah, no, dear. I meant...I’d still like to sleep with women on occasion.”
“Women? More than one?”
“Wha -ah - well, yes...?” Francis shifted on the couch, turning in toward Antonio. “If I met a lovely woman at, say, a bar - or a gallery opening, for instance, I would like to be able to take her home that night.”
“No...” Antonio shook his head. “Not home.”
“Hm?” Francis asked, tilting his head and nodding a bit to signal Antonio to go on.
“Not to your house. I like your house.”
Oh...well...Francis couldn’t see why it would matter where they did it, but, he was surprised Antonio was willing to agree at all. “Certainly, then. Not my apartment.”
“And not...” Antonio stopped and chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “Not more than once.”
Francis understood this - I don’t want you dating me and someone else at the same time, he was trying to say. “No, no, of course not,” he reassured, smiling.
---
“So, have you decided to major in theater or not?” Natalia asked Eirik, glancing down and looking surprised when she realized all of her ginger was already gone. She reached across the table to his plate to snag some more pickled ginger with her chopsticks.
Eirik sighed and scooped up the rest of his ginger for her, placing it on her plate. “Not sure. I don’t want to do conventional theater, and that’s what the school’s program is.”
She nodded, chewing on some nigiri. “Thought any more about joining that experimental group downtown? Talk to that guy who was at your thing at The Scam?” she asked.
He shrugged. “No, not really. They don’t really do what I do.”
“Still, he liked it!”
“Well, how about you? Are you going to add that business minor? Talk about an odd combination,” he laughed.
“Probably,” she shrugged. “I have to declare by next semester - you’re lucky, you’ve still got a year - and the minor will come in handy if I ever actually become successful. Then I guess I could start up a gallery or something?”
“If you started a gallery you’d have to let me perform there,” Eirik grinned.
“Sure thing, Eir,” she laughed.
He smiled at her. “You’re happy tonight.”
She paused and looked at him, then shrugged and popped another piece of sushi into her mouth. She looked out the window, to the neon night on the street, before suddenly turning to him and asking “Do you think I’m a bitch?”
He knew she was talking about that Nils guy’s comment without even asking, and frowned. “I already told you, that guy’s a dick.”
“No, really,” she huffed. “Do you?”
He looked at her and played with his chopsticks, dragging the ends back and forth across the plate. “Well, no...” he began. “I know you’re not. But...you can be pretty cold to strangers.”
She nodded, propped her arm on the table, and stared out into the night, lost in thought. Cold rain ran down the windowpane - Eirik watched as the lights from the street shined in her eyes, as the shadows of droplets danced down her strong, elfin features.
He chewed on his bottom lip before softly saying “You don’t have to be, you know.”
---
AUTHOR’S NOTES + NOVEMBER MIX TAPE
---
*Yes, that was totally an Alice’s Restaurant Massacree reference, you are correct. C’mon, it’s November! That’s like, the quintessential Thanksgiving tune!
Writing performance-music/art is so hard. SO HARD. Writing smut? Battles? Doesn’t even hold a candle. Some behind-the-scenes things that didn’t fit: Eduard is Iceland’s theater tech pal, and tripped most of the lights/sound. Eirik always wears an altered straitjacket when he performs. I imagine his voice sounds like Sice from The Boo Radleys. Sweet and husky, hard to tell if it’s male or female.
And man, Eirik, for a shy, gloomy little thing you sure go balls-out when you have the stage.
So, most of Nils’ major plot points are out of the way with this one. He’ll probably get less face-time from here on out. Time for Roderich, Francis, Ludwig, and Gilbert to step up to the plate! And q;glhafb[a;agk MATTHEW COMES BACK. DERPY TIMES AHOY.
MIXTAPE LINK: http://www.me diafire.com/?9gfl rgw5ck17i
First two scenes:
Matt and Kim - Daylight
Francis and Antonio get coffee - this was THE ONLY song I listened to while writing that scene:
Life Without Buildings - Envoys
Eirik does performance art:
Radiohead - Exit Music (For a Film)
Kría Brekkan - Ravine Solush - oh God this song is so pretty
The Boo Radleys - Upon 9th and Fairchild - Eirik sounds like this guy!
Nils and Kiku start hanging out:
Braid - Killing a Camera - What a November song.
Animal Collective - Did You See the Words - I also listened to this’un while writing the Machine Girl scene
MST3k Bro Night:
Built to Spill - Carry the Zero
Machine Girl Night + Antonio and Franics come to an agreement:
Nick Drake - Place to Be
Belle and Sebastian - Belle and Sebastian on the Radio
Natalia and Eirik get sushi - wow, these are like their theme songs (well, for now)
Broken Social Scene - Swimmers
Panda Bear - Song for Ariel
Rating: PG-15?
Characters: Ensemble
Parings: France/Spain, Austria/Leichtenstein, Germany/Japan, France/Norway, England/fem!Netherlands, Prussia/fem!Romano, Norway/Japan
Summary: Derpy AU where the nations are hipsters.
In This Chapter: Francis and Antonio figure out their relationship, Eirik does performance art at The Scam, Gilbert, Alfred, and Feliks go thrifting, Kiku and Nils watch a lot of movies, Eirik and Natalia get sushi.
Warnings: Language, drinking, drugs, mild sexual situations.
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NOVEMBER
---
Kiku opened his eyes and saw Ivan asleep below him on the floor. Sunlight streamed across his face, illuminating an open mouth that was drooling on an improvised bear-head pillow, his body surrounded by a wide variety of abandoned food containers and controllers. Kiku snapped a quick picture with his phone...now, he should find the bathroom. Where was that, again? He padded down the hall and made to grab the door handle, but the door flew open right as he put his arm out. He was firstly assaulted by the smell of bile, stale beer, and sweat - he looked up to see a terrifying vision of bleary, bloodshot eyes surrounded by sooty paint and long, matted hair. All of this was underscored by a jagged frown made all the more menacing by a split and swollen lip.
They both stood stock-still for a moment, surprised, then Nils grumbled something inarticulate, shoved past Kiku, and vanished into a room further down the hall.
---
Pictures from the party had gone up on Neon Shark by the next night. Alfred and Gilbert were at Alfred’s computer, excitedly clicking through them and commenting.
“Hey, that’s you, Alfredo!” Gilbert said right into Alfred’s ear and pointed to the screen. It was a picture shot through the crowd of both Bender and the jellyfish, in the middle of a hilariously over-animated conversation. “You chumps look like you’re three-year-olds learning to dance,” Gilbert snarked, “or maybe just retarded.” Alfred shouted a “Hey!” and shoved him over, then clicked on, flipping through a set of people he didn’t know rather quickly.
He paused at a picture of Daft Punk grinding against one another on the dance floor and laughed - Gilbert elbowed him and growled that he didn’t want his eyes to be burned out from looking too long, and what, was he gay or something? Alfred continued scrolling.
“Whoa - stop! Look at how fuckin’ punk ass we all look!” Gilbert said at the first mosh pit photo that came up. The two talked about how cool they were, how cool moshing was, how cool the whole party was, and took their time going through the rest.
“Wow, dude,” Alfred leaned into the screen for a better look, “guess I was more drunk than I thought - when did so much blood get everywhere? Who got that injured? ‘Cuz, huh, Nils split his lip - and I think Arthur got smashed with a bottle -”
Gilbert cackled and crowed out “I swiped Nils’ fake blood from right under his painty nose! Tossed it around during “My Shadow” - got all you suckers covered and no one even noticed!”
“Sweet!” Alfred held out his arm they shared and knuckle-jarring fist bump. “We look scary,” he grinned.
“Hell yeah!” Gilbert agreed. “We are some goddamn awful, violent, terrifying motherfuckers!”
“We’ll cut you up!”
“We’ll eat your children!”
“We’ll rape your mothers!”
“We’ll rape your fathers!”
“We - ahahah fathers! Father-rapers*!” Alfred howled.
“Hey, our creepy-bear,” Gilbert pointed, smearing his finger on the screen. A dancing Ivan was plainly visible, looming above the crowd in his Radiohead bear costume.
“He should wear that thing all the time!” Alfred chirped. Gilbert snorted and reached over to click to the next photo with a hard punch of his fingers onto the mouse.
They both stopped for a second - Alfred opened his mouth first with a “Dude, score! What a babe!” before Gilbert yowled “The fuck? Why don’t I remember that?!”
“What?! How could you forget that?” Alfred gestured to the screen, where Gilbert and a very attractive steampunk girl were sucking each other’s faces off.
Gilbert looked like he had just witnessed someone kicking a puppy. Or pouring out all of his beer. Or had been told cigarettes were now $20 a pack. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he moaned.
“Do ya remember moshing - wait, you were just talkin’ about it. Okay, so, you moshed,” Alfred tapped his fingers on the desk. “Then I didn’t see you for a while - found ya outside when I was leavin’.”
“Yeah,” Gilbert frowned. “I moshed and messed all you losers up - and then...” a deeper frown “...it gets fuzzy...this is so lame, Alfredo. Next thing I remember I was outside on the street with that Xerxes guy, we were having this amazing epic blood battle!” he cackled. “Then...” another frown. “It’s goddamn fuzzy again - just flashes of things until I woke up today.”
“Bummer,” Alfred sighed and patted his pal’s back in sympathy. “At least you got some?”
---
Francis and Antonio were seated next to each other in a corner of a cafe they frequented fairly often. Their waitress came by and asked if they wanted the usual, and Francis felt a twinge in his chest at the expression that crossed Antonio’s face for a fleeting moment. They watched her go and sat in silence, pleasantries having been exchanged before she came by. Francis fiddled with his shirt cuff, trying not to look over and cursing that everything he tried to say died in his throat. Antonio beat out a rhythm with his fork on the tabletop and sang along to the music playing under his breath, seemingly oblivious to Francis’ plight.
“I...” Francis started. A latte was placed in front of him.
Antonio sipped his coffee and raised his eyebrows, still humming the song.
Francis took a deep breath. Since when were these things so hard? “I didn’t think we were exclusive, dear,” he finally said, wearily.
Antonio tilted his head and looked at Francis with a bit of confusion, no longer humming, but not saying anything else either.
“Oh,” Francis inhaled. “...you have been, haven’t you?”
Still no verbal response - Antonio merely smiled while he moved in his seat a little, then shrugged and laughed.
How could he act so lighthearted? The silence was crushing; the air around them seemed to sink into Francis’ stomach, press against his lungs, paralyze his throat. A nervous “Do you want to be?” made it out into the space between them.
“Do you?” Antonio asked, genuinely curious.
More crushing silence. Francis let his gaze go unfocused and low, the grain of the table smearing into something resembling a child’s fingerpaint experiments in browns and blacks. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but Antonio’s sigh brought him out of his trance.
“Take some time to figure out what you want,” Antonio smiled, brushing a strand of Francis’ hair behind his ear. Francis’ gaze snapped to him, alarmed. “I’m not angry,” Antonio laughed.
“Then why-”
“You need time to think! You always do call yourself a philosopher,” Antonio tapped him on the temple teasingly. His gaze became serious. “Get back to me. You know how I feel.” He kissed Francis on the cheek and got up, whistling a tune Francis didn’t know as he went out the door.
Francis watched until he couldn’t see the ratty jacket he had always griped about so much any longer, then continued staring out the window, lost in thought. He brought his beverage to his lips, took a sip, and barely refrained from spitting it right back out.
He looked down at it, frowning.
It had gone cold.
---
“Do what he told you to,” Roderich shrugged from his place behind the desk.
Francis huffed and shifted his pose, leaning his hip further into the wood. “Yes, but you see, thinking about it is all that I have been doing.”
Roderich hummed. He didn’t know what else to say about it; he’d heard everything from Francis this morning at work, both of them putting off things that should have been done around the store. He did have a different question though. “What will you do about Nils?”
“Nils?”
“Yes, Nils,” Roderich retorted.
“Why, nothing,” Francis frowned. “I doubt he will mention it.”
Roderich just put his head in his hand and shook it, sighing. How did he ever become acquainted with these sorts of people?
---
Nils walked in, ramrod-straight, and looked between the two. “I assume I still work here.”
“Oh, please -” Francis flapped a hand, “You are in college, non? You know how these things go. You drink, do something silly, life goes on.” He shrugged. “Now, be a dear and start on the inventory in the back - I’m afraid we’re a bit behind, today.”
“Your hair looks much better with that cut, by the way!” he called to Nils’ back.
---
Huh, Nils thought, pulling boxes from the shelves in the back, that was weird. Right back to normal. The man even grabbed his arm while telling him about the inventory.
---
“You’re still going to hang all over the poor kid, aren’t you,” Roderich sighed.
“I am a tactile being!” Francis remarked, sounding defensive. “It would be like telling you to stop your incessant humming.”
“...I hum?”
---
The Scam was currently playing host to a humble but intimate gathering of people, who were mingling around or sitting within a taped-off area on the floor, facing the back wall.
Bella, Lili, and Natalia had set up camp in the taped box, determined to have the best seats in the house for Eirik’s performance. Tina, after talking to Elizabeta, bounded over and sat with them. Ludwig and Alfred came in and both took up posts next to Natalia. Ludwig and Natalia’s conversation was only interrupted for a bit by Alfred’s inane interjections, and then Tina cut in and, unsurprisingly, she and Alfred ended up talking each others’ ears off instead, despite just meeting one another.
Kiku arrived with Ivan; Roderich arrived with Jens. Ivan sat in the back of the box, mindful of his height, while Kiku sat next to Ludwig and tried to initiate conversation. Ludwig seemed to be taken in by Alfred and Tina’s conversation, however, and Kiku soon gave up on it, exchanging a few words with Natalia instead. Roderich sat in the back with Ivan, while Jens sat closer to the front of the group. The younger girls giggled and fawned over the cute, mild-mannered new guy; Roderich tried not to pout when he noticed that Lili was one of those girls.
A few more people filed in, Arthur and Eliza joined, then a skinny, bespectacled guy with a robotic bowl cut waved at them to signal that things were starting, and the lights went out.
---
A single, blinding floodlight pointed to the audience - it silhouetted a dark figure kneeling, facing them, its head against something long and thin. Rumbling bass sounded, and the slight body rose with jerky, odd movements, music growing louder as it did so. It finally stood, skewed a little, seemingly off-balance and foreign, a solid black shape against the glare of the light. The rumbling slowly built up, vibrations filled the air - made breathing difficult - shook the floor, the walls. It sounded like a cross between an incoming storm, a train, and a collection of singing saws. An arm twisted with a lurch, moving the long, thin object to the side; in profile, it looked like a sci-fi, space age gun. It was raised with more halting movements, then the music screeched and the silhouette turned around.
Another set of lights flashed, pointed backwards, away from both the figure and the audience - they illuminated a white-painted back wall with round black somethings scattered along the top, like bugs, or birds, or maybe an army of airborne craft in the distance - and - red paintball splatters streaked across the wall. Blood red. Some of the paintballs burst the dark balloons hanging, and black paint from within slipped down the wall, mixing with the red.
Silence reigned, somehow even more deafening than the thunder from before - the gun fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Suddenly everything was thrown into complete darkness - the halting sounds of deliberately drawn-out shuffling and scraping across the floor could be heard for the next few minutes. The darkness felt hot, claustrophobic, every noise seemed amplified to senses on high alert. Silence, again, and for nearly a minute and nothing happened, nothing moved. Just impenetrable darkness. Then the soft, distorted sound of a husky, androgynous voice, singing in either a language no one present knew or incomprehensible lilting. It was creepy; it was gorgeous. It grew louder, looped, amplified - a quick but spare and bittersweet piano melody, rising through the distorted vocals like a babbling brook, began at the same time softer lights flickered to life.
An unrecognizable figure in white stood rocking at a keyboard, movements across the keys jumpy, eyes turned down and lips moving through the only holes in an otherwise completely flat, blank, white mask. White mask, white painted face and lips underneath, white painted neck and hands, tight, white brokenly paneled and strapped jacket and pants, white shoes. The only color in the outfit was still monochrome - a metallic head brace, altered to hold a cordless mic to the figure’s lips.
The eyes behind the mask opened, their odd light violet color even more pronounced than normal. A jerk of an arm to a switch atop the keyboard, and the soft pale glow of light changed to a bright, blue-tinged strobe - at the same time the tempo of the piano melody picked up, but the tune became more melancholy. The soft, distorted vocals became looped wails. Previously jerky movements were now utterly alien looking, frightening. The paint continued to drip down the wall, the wall coming alive between each flicker of light, splatters and strings of tar and blood.
The keyboard suddenly stopped, leaving only looped wails remaining. From underneath the mask, dark liquid slipped down a thin neck - too dark to be blood, too fluid to be tar. A flinch made more harsh by the flashing lights, then a stumbling backpedal, a body hitting the back wall, smearing and tangled in the paint, liquid staining the white ensemble...the body slid down the wall, the lights went out a final time, and eerie, fuzzed-out vocals lasted for a minute more before fading out.
---
Roderich was making his way out, even though the rest of those present were still mingling and discussing the performance - he was tired. He heard a “hey!” and had half-turned when he suddenly found himself with an armful of laughing, amazing-smelling young lady, who leaned up, kissed him on the cheek, and said “Just wanted to say hi before you left!” before he could even process it. She took off - dazed, he waved to her, but she was already back to her friends.
He hastily shoved his hands in his pockets, and once outside he swallowed, shook his head, and tried to calm himself down.
Home. Home now.
---
“Alfred, what’re you doing. We’ve been standing here for five minutes looking at goddamn strips of cloth,” Gilbert whined, gazing longingly over at the miscellaneous section of the thrift store.
“I’ve gotta get an amazing scarf for this winter!” Alfred replied, sifting through a bin of them. “All of my old ones are kinda lame. Or got destroyed. How does that happen, anyway? Why don’t you need new scarves every year?”
“Please, Al, he needs a new everything for his closet,” Feliks said slowly, pausing to pinch a prospect between two fingers and pulling it up from the pile in a manner that suggested he thought it might surge up and bite him.
“Feliks, just because I’m not some sparkly little fag doesn’t mean my clothes aren’t sexy and devastating,” Gilbert winked.
“Oh, is that it?” Feliks retorted. “Your outfit is so “devastating” because you wear it, like, literally every day. Ugh. Tell your mother to buy some t-shirts from, ew, Wal-Mart or something for Christmas - obviously no more than three dollars should be spent on your rags,” he sniffed.
“Ha, okay!” Gilbert barked. “I’ll even tell her to buy an extra pack - that can be what I get you for Christmas this year,” he stuck his tongue out at Feliks.
Feliks glared. “I’d be shivering in fear - except, you know, since when did you ever get someone a Christmas present? How about never?”
“Hey guys!” Alfred said in a way-too-happy voice.
Both Feliks and Gilbert turned to him, identical expressions of “huh?” on their faces. Alfred was waving at something behind them - oh.
Ivan, Kiku, Berwald, and Roderich were on the other side of the store, but making their way over. Gilbert frowned. Now it was gonna take twice as long to get to the section he wanted to be in! It always takes longer when you’re in a group. But then, in the middle of a rant about the many types of thrift store smells, Alfred invited them all over - Roderich declined, as he had to tutor a student soon - and for some reason that sped everyone up.
---
They arrived home just as Nils was heading out the door. “Hey,” he nodded to the crew in the living room, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the hallway.
“Aw, you’re leaving? C’mon man, we’re gonna hang here for a bit - don’t be so shy!” Alfred grinned.
“The movie starts soon. I’m going.” Nils said, decisively. “You guys can come if you want,” he shrugged. “They’re showing Hausu at M-16 tonight.”
A flurry of responses: “I’ll bet this’ll be more fun! With all of these cool bros? Failproof!” “I don’t like that bar. Like, total metalhead dive bar. Grody.” “I’m permanently banned. Pissy little fuckers, it was an old T.V. anyway.” “It is loud there, yes? I would rather not.”
Kiku looked up and asked if the movie was Japanese. Nils nodded.
---
On the way there, Kiku asked what the movie was about. Nils tried his best, but all he really got out was “It’s...Jesus, how to - okay -” a sigh - “a 1977 Japanese haunted house horror-comedy on acid.”
“This sounds interesting.”
“I’m serious. Acid. A cat painting spews blood. A guy turns into a pile of bananas. Furniture eats people. Fucked-up editing. Shitty effects. Neon and disembodied floating things all over the place.”
---
They grabbed some drinks at the bar and situated themselves in a dark corner in the back room with a good line-of-sight to the projector screen. Thrash was playing too loudly to really talk, so Nils flipped through the tabletop burger menu.
“Want a burger?” Nils shouted across the tiny table, pointing at the menu.
Kiku shook his head and Nils barely heard his reply of “I’m a vegetarian. Thank you though.”
Nils nodded and signaled that he’d be back, then went to order himself one at the bar. The burgers here were huge and goddamn delicious.
---
The credits stopped rolling and Nils turned to Kiku. “So?”
“....wow.”
Nils nodded, sipping his beer.
Kiku shook his head. “That...I do not know what to say about it.”
Nils shrugged. “You don’t have to.”
---
Feliks and Berwald were sitting together at a bar - at the bar of a gay bar, to be precise - because, while talking to Berwald in the Hjortdonner living room, Feliks had made the executive decision that Berwald needed to go out and meet some eligible men. Eligible men who also liked men. So off they went, Berwald metaphorically dragging his heels the whole way.
The problem seemed to be that either the men were scared of Berwald, or Berwald was scared of them. Feliks had heard that the man was intimidating from others, but he didn’t really get it. He shrugged to himself, downing his drink, while watching the second scenario happen - again - with a bit of dark amusement.
A very queeny fellow was hanging all over Berwald, being very forward, flirtatious, and touchy. Berwald was obviously frozen in terror, eyes wide and his normally-limited vocabulary reduced to the occasional noise.
Feliks sighed. This whole situation was a hot mess. Berwald just wanted a normal man - not a queen, not a bear, just a guy - and all of these strangers touching him were just freaking him out.
Feliks walked over and waved the offending man off, turning to Berwald with a hand on his hip. “Okay, fuck this sitch,” he stated. “Let’s just go to, like, that total tranny dive on Adams and 12th, get trashed, watch some God-awful drag queens and make fun of ‘em.”
---
The weekend after Hausu, Kiku went over to the Hjortdonner house and watched the MST3k version of Space Mutiny with all of them, plus Antonio, who made an enormous bowl of popcorn and then plopped down on the floor. Alfred and Gilbert got really high and giggled for practically the entire 93 minutes; one would yell something at the screen, the other would one-up the first, occasionally Nils would join with something snappy, and eventually the other four were laughing so hard Kiku had to pause the movie. They would calm down and the process would start over.
Gilbert had been hiccuping for ten minutes, and was now hanging over the side of the couch, howling and clutching his stomach - after an underwhelming chase scene the two vehicles onscreen exploded, and Alfred let out a loud keen and fell straight off the couch and onto Antonio.
A loud hiccup tore through the air and Gilbert clapped a hand over his mouth, still twitching with repressed laughs. No one thought anything of it until he yanked the empty popcorn bowl toward himself and vomited, spluttering and choking through chuckles.
Alfred immediately began howling at Gilbert, pointing at him and seizing up into a ball. Antonio smiled and then joined in. Kiku looked over to Nils - and completely lost it when he saw the shocked look etched across his features. Kiku’s mirth snapped him out of it, apparently, because the two of them were soon trying not to fall off of the couch themselves while Alfred rolled around on the floor and wheezed “You threw up! You threw up!” whenever he had enough air.
---
For Thanksgiving, Kiku brought over Alfred Hitchcock’s Masterpiece Collection, and he and Nils sat on the couch and had a marathon. Nils tossed him a package of portabello mushrooms and they made mushroom burgers for dinner.
The house was strangely silent without Alfred or Gilbert. Everyone that they knew in town, save themselves, was dining with their family. They didn’t bring it up, and when Gilbert came in and asked “Why the fuck are you two dweebs sittin’ here in the dark?” he just got two flat stares in answer.
---
The next weekend found them watching Machine Girl in Kiku’s room, drinking sake on Kiku’s tatami mat and commenting on the overabundance of blood in the movie. Nils was sprawled back, propped up on his elbows to watch the movie, and Kiku sat beside him cross-legged, laughing at discrepancies between the subtitles and the actual dialogue.
The credits rolled and Nils flopped back, happily buzzed, and brushed a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes.
“I like your hair like this,” Kiku murmured.
“Hmm? As opposed to what?”
“As opposed to when I met you.” At that, Nils looked confused. “The morning after the Halloween party,” Kiku clarified.
Nils’ eyes widened. “Holy shit!” he laughed quietly. “I probably looked like a disaster. I don’t even remember seeing you.”
Kiku raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“No. I was still drunk when I woke up. Worst hangover of my life,” he groaned and turned slightly to Kiku, closing his eyes for a minute.
“Well. You did look like a disaster,” Kiku smiled and leaned forward, bracing an arm on his knee and resting his head on his hand. “I didn’t realize you were the same person, the next time I saw you,” he admitted.
“That’s good,” Nils muttered.
“Oh?”
“I would hate for you to think I’m that gross.” He looked up at Kiku and quirked his lips, before turning on his side completely and lifting himself up on one elbow again.
Kiku leaned in and brushed away the hair that fell in Nils’ eyes, openly smiling. “I don’t think you’re gross,” was almost whispered.
Nils fell silent, eyes flickering across Kiku’s face. By now the credits had ended - he watched as the changing colors of the screen saver flashed across Kiku’s features and added odd highlights to his hair. He swallowed, and it was loud in the quiet left behind by the movie. He reached out and touched one of the colors highlighting Kiku’s cheekbone - “I don’t think you’re gross, either,” he breathlessly got out.
Kiku leaned into the touch a moment, then closed the gap between them with deliberate slowness. Nils’ eyes fell shut automatically and their lips touched, dry and tentative, then parted, before becoming a series of soft, chaste kisses.
Nils raised a clammy hand to hold the turn of Kiku’s jaw, and the kiss turned into an open-mouthed one, tongues barely brushing. A little deeper, then - Nils could taste the sweet sake from earlier, and it made his heart skitter against his ribs - Kiku placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him back down to the mat and settling half-over him, stretching out. Their lips remained together the entire time. A small noise escaped from the back of Nils’ throat and he ran his hand down Kiku’s side as Kiku slid a hand behind his ear and through his hair.
Kiku’s fingers moved from his hair, lightly traced down his throat. A thumb ran along his collarbone, a splayed hand delicately slid down his chest, and finally the hand slid under his shirt, pushing up along the planes of his stomach and bunching the shirt along with it.
Nils broke off and pulled back for a second, nearly panting. “Are - are you and...?” he trailed off.
Kiku looked confused for only a moment, then said “We’ve gone on a few dates...nothing big.” At Nils’ hesitation he blushingly added “We’ve barely kissed.”
Nils nodded and let his thumb rub light circles into Kiku’s side.
“Also,” Kiku smirked with his eyes, “I think he likes Alfred.”
Nils let out a small huff of laughter at that. “You too?”
Kiku nodded and they smiled at each other a moment before meeting again. Nils stayed late, twined with Kiku on the mat, simply content to let their bodies and mouths touch and explore.
---
“How would you feel if you were the only man I saw?” Francis asked, sitting close to Antonio on Antonio’s couch.
Antonio frowned. “I told you that’s what I wanted,” he said, confused.
“Ah, no, dear. I meant...I’d still like to sleep with women on occasion.”
“Women? More than one?”
“Wha -ah - well, yes...?” Francis shifted on the couch, turning in toward Antonio. “If I met a lovely woman at, say, a bar - or a gallery opening, for instance, I would like to be able to take her home that night.”
“No...” Antonio shook his head. “Not home.”
“Hm?” Francis asked, tilting his head and nodding a bit to signal Antonio to go on.
“Not to your house. I like your house.”
Oh...well...Francis couldn’t see why it would matter where they did it, but, he was surprised Antonio was willing to agree at all. “Certainly, then. Not my apartment.”
“And not...” Antonio stopped and chuckled, leaning back into the couch. “Not more than once.”
Francis understood this - I don’t want you dating me and someone else at the same time, he was trying to say. “No, no, of course not,” he reassured, smiling.
---
“So, have you decided to major in theater or not?” Natalia asked Eirik, glancing down and looking surprised when she realized all of her ginger was already gone. She reached across the table to his plate to snag some more pickled ginger with her chopsticks.
Eirik sighed and scooped up the rest of his ginger for her, placing it on her plate. “Not sure. I don’t want to do conventional theater, and that’s what the school’s program is.”
She nodded, chewing on some nigiri. “Thought any more about joining that experimental group downtown? Talk to that guy who was at your thing at The Scam?” she asked.
He shrugged. “No, not really. They don’t really do what I do.”
“Still, he liked it!”
“Well, how about you? Are you going to add that business minor? Talk about an odd combination,” he laughed.
“Probably,” she shrugged. “I have to declare by next semester - you’re lucky, you’ve still got a year - and the minor will come in handy if I ever actually become successful. Then I guess I could start up a gallery or something?”
“If you started a gallery you’d have to let me perform there,” Eirik grinned.
“Sure thing, Eir,” she laughed.
He smiled at her. “You’re happy tonight.”
She paused and looked at him, then shrugged and popped another piece of sushi into her mouth. She looked out the window, to the neon night on the street, before suddenly turning to him and asking “Do you think I’m a bitch?”
He knew she was talking about that Nils guy’s comment without even asking, and frowned. “I already told you, that guy’s a dick.”
“No, really,” she huffed. “Do you?”
He looked at her and played with his chopsticks, dragging the ends back and forth across the plate. “Well, no...” he began. “I know you’re not. But...you can be pretty cold to strangers.”
She nodded, propped her arm on the table, and stared out into the night, lost in thought. Cold rain ran down the windowpane - Eirik watched as the lights from the street shined in her eyes, as the shadows of droplets danced down her strong, elfin features.
He chewed on his bottom lip before softly saying “You don’t have to be, you know.”
---
AUTHOR’S NOTES + NOVEMBER MIX TAPE
---
*Yes, that was totally an Alice’s Restaurant Massacree reference, you are correct. C’mon, it’s November! That’s like, the quintessential Thanksgiving tune!
Writing performance-music/art is so hard. SO HARD. Writing smut? Battles? Doesn’t even hold a candle. Some behind-the-scenes things that didn’t fit: Eduard is Iceland’s theater tech pal, and tripped most of the lights/sound. Eirik always wears an altered straitjacket when he performs. I imagine his voice sounds like Sice from The Boo Radleys. Sweet and husky, hard to tell if it’s male or female.
And man, Eirik, for a shy, gloomy little thing you sure go balls-out when you have the stage.
So, most of Nils’ major plot points are out of the way with this one. He’ll probably get less face-time from here on out. Time for Roderich, Francis, Ludwig, and Gilbert to step up to the plate! And q;glhafb[a;agk MATTHEW COMES BACK. DERPY TIMES AHOY.
MIXTAPE LINK: http://www.me diafire.com/?9gfl rgw5ck17i
First two scenes:
Matt and Kim - Daylight
Francis and Antonio get coffee - this was THE ONLY song I listened to while writing that scene:
Life Without Buildings - Envoys
Eirik does performance art:
Radiohead - Exit Music (For a Film)
Kría Brekkan - Ravine Solush - oh God this song is so pretty
The Boo Radleys - Upon 9th and Fairchild - Eirik sounds like this guy!
Nils and Kiku start hanging out:
Braid - Killing a Camera - What a November song.
Animal Collective - Did You See the Words - I also listened to this’un while writing the Machine Girl scene
MST3k Bro Night:
Built to Spill - Carry the Zero
Machine Girl Night + Antonio and Franics come to an agreement:
Nick Drake - Place to Be
Belle and Sebastian - Belle and Sebastian on the Radio
Natalia and Eirik get sushi - wow, these are like their theme songs (well, for now)
Broken Social Scene - Swimmers
Panda Bear - Song for Ariel