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metamorphosis2010-05-07 04:38 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-05-07 04:38 pm
Entry tags:
93;
Title: Tell Me More, Tell Me More, Did You Get Very Far?
Characters: Spain, England, Prussia, France
Rating: G
The last and final bonus prompt for LJ's 30smiles', 'Summer love'. Another school-verse. Human names used. Aces to those who get the reference in the title to the prompt.
It had all started when Francis had mentioned that Arthur had never been on a date.
Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t – group dates counted, right? – but when the French teen pointed how that he had never been one-on-one with someone, well, he turned red right down to his brown dress shoes and muttered hotly that he “didn’t need to have a girlfriend”.
Of course, Antonio heard and took it upon himself to give the stingy Anglo-Saxon the best date he’d ever have.
He took Arthur out to the finest restaurant in town, Ritiro. Arthur was silent the whole dinner, content to watch Antonio flirt and smile at everyone but him. Once those distractions were gone, though, he felt the full force of that gaze on him, and he flushed a deep red at such—- attention. They made small talk for a while and Arthur picked at his food, up until Antonio twirled some of the pasta around his fork and pressed it against his lips, smile growing wider as Arthur allowed it and slid it off the fork with an odd look on his face.
When asked, Antonio just shrugged and replied that “it would be a shame to let the beautiful dinner go to waste” and Arthur supposed he agreed. Yet –
“I’m not very hungry.”
“We can do something else.”
So they paid and left, Antonio holding Arthur’s hand tightly as he pulled them to another location – the park, beautiful in its nighttime stillness. They stood at the old playground, memories of younger, freer days washing over them like a hot wave, and smiled at each other slightly.
“Isn’t this pleasant…”
It wasn’t a question but a statement by Arthur, and more to himself than anything. His companion just shrugged and nudged him slightly, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I don’t remember you have pleasant memories of it, amigo.”
The words felt strange, muttered into his skin – and at that, the kiss had caused his ears to turn a slight reddish color – and he licked his lips, glancing up.
After a moment, he grabbed both of Antonio’s hands and ducked his head to hide his embarrassment.
“Let’s dance.”
So they did – until midnight that is, when a thoroughly exhausted Arthur had fallen asleep against Antonio and so had to be brought home and tucked in, peppered with kisses that one wouldn’t remember and the other wouldn’t mention. It was a good date, Arthur decided the next morning, and wondered if they could do it again.
Days passed, as did a great many dates, and Gilbert once even joked that the two of them acted like lovers. Arthur, of course, vehemently denied that he could have ever fallen for an idiot like Antonio, but he was smiling and his face was red (though, from anger or embarrassment, Gilbert couldn’t decide) and Antonio took it in good stride, laughing and agreeing with Arthur – not that he was an idiot, mind, but that it’d be silly for either of them to fall in love.
And yet…
Arthur traced the picture of him and Antonio, smiling and holding hands, pressed close and in mid-kiss. He pursed his lips and laid it aside, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes and grimacing.
No.
It wouldn’t be like this.
It’d be over as soon as the summer was over.
He knew it.
Antonio probably knew it, too.
That’s why they hadn’t talked in three weeks.
It definitely wasn’t because the last time they talked, Arthur was angry at seeing Antonio with another person.
Definitely not.
Because he wasn’t jealous that he had a boyfriend.
Not at all.
The English don’t get jealous.
At all.
And they certainly don’t, he hurriedly decided, they don’t fall in love with idiot Spaniards.
Characters: Spain, England, Prussia, France
Rating: G
The last and final bonus prompt for LJ's 30smiles', 'Summer love'. Another school-verse. Human names used. Aces to those who get the reference in the title to the prompt.
It had all started when Francis had mentioned that Arthur had never been on a date.
Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t – group dates counted, right? – but when the French teen pointed how that he had never been one-on-one with someone, well, he turned red right down to his brown dress shoes and muttered hotly that he “didn’t need to have a girlfriend”.
Of course, Antonio heard and took it upon himself to give the stingy Anglo-Saxon the best date he’d ever have.
He took Arthur out to the finest restaurant in town, Ritiro. Arthur was silent the whole dinner, content to watch Antonio flirt and smile at everyone but him. Once those distractions were gone, though, he felt the full force of that gaze on him, and he flushed a deep red at such—- attention. They made small talk for a while and Arthur picked at his food, up until Antonio twirled some of the pasta around his fork and pressed it against his lips, smile growing wider as Arthur allowed it and slid it off the fork with an odd look on his face.
When asked, Antonio just shrugged and replied that “it would be a shame to let the beautiful dinner go to waste” and Arthur supposed he agreed. Yet –
“I’m not very hungry.”
“We can do something else.”
So they paid and left, Antonio holding Arthur’s hand tightly as he pulled them to another location – the park, beautiful in its nighttime stillness. They stood at the old playground, memories of younger, freer days washing over them like a hot wave, and smiled at each other slightly.
“Isn’t this pleasant…”
It wasn’t a question but a statement by Arthur, and more to himself than anything. His companion just shrugged and nudged him slightly, turning his head and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“I don’t remember you have pleasant memories of it, amigo.”
The words felt strange, muttered into his skin – and at that, the kiss had caused his ears to turn a slight reddish color – and he licked his lips, glancing up.
After a moment, he grabbed both of Antonio’s hands and ducked his head to hide his embarrassment.
“Let’s dance.”
So they did – until midnight that is, when a thoroughly exhausted Arthur had fallen asleep against Antonio and so had to be brought home and tucked in, peppered with kisses that one wouldn’t remember and the other wouldn’t mention. It was a good date, Arthur decided the next morning, and wondered if they could do it again.
Days passed, as did a great many dates, and Gilbert once even joked that the two of them acted like lovers. Arthur, of course, vehemently denied that he could have ever fallen for an idiot like Antonio, but he was smiling and his face was red (though, from anger or embarrassment, Gilbert couldn’t decide) and Antonio took it in good stride, laughing and agreeing with Arthur – not that he was an idiot, mind, but that it’d be silly for either of them to fall in love.
And yet…
Arthur traced the picture of him and Antonio, smiling and holding hands, pressed close and in mid-kiss. He pursed his lips and laid it aside, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes and grimacing.
No.
It wouldn’t be like this.
It’d be over as soon as the summer was over.
He knew it.
Antonio probably knew it, too.
That’s why they hadn’t talked in three weeks.
It definitely wasn’t because the last time they talked, Arthur was angry at seeing Antonio with another person.
Definitely not.
Because he wasn’t jealous that he had a boyfriend.
Not at all.
The English don’t get jealous.
At all.
And they certainly don’t, he hurriedly decided, they don’t fall in love with idiot Spaniards.