Does France ever get back at England after the events of An Unfortunate Reminder? Did he give him hickeys as well? Lol what was France's revenge?
He did indeed! This is part 2 of @needcake's wonderful prompts: '2) Engportfra - platonic foot-holding'
A Social Mishap
Characters: England, France, Portugal/ EngPortFra
Part two of An Unfortunate Reminder
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When Gabriel finds Arthur, sat alone in the middle of the restaurant by the window, he sees that he's about to leave.
The restaurant is full- packed on a Friday night with people dressed to the nines- and there’s even a live band playing discreetly in the corner. Something light, something old. Gabriel’s coat is taken from him smoothly as soon as he steps properly through the door and, he thinks as he smooths back his hair and wipes away the damp feel of rain from it, this is probably one of the nicest places he’s been to in years. Reminiscent of something he didn’t realise was falling out of fashion until it was far too late to appreciate it properly.
Arthur has his back to entrance so Gabriel can’t see his face but he knows, from knowing Arthur as long as he has, that by the tense, back set of his shoulders and the flush on his ears he is furious. He can almost hear his feet tapping under the table.
Smiling at the seating staff- sim, he is quite alright, thank you- Gabriel winds his way through the other tables and patrons to get to him quickly and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it through his blazer to calm him when he starts in surprise.
‘Is this seat free?’
Arthur turns to stare up at him. He’s well dressed like everyone else here: smart navy suit and tie with a crisp white shirt that looks newly ironed. The outfit is well-tailored to him, blazer nipped in at the waist to show him slender. Gabriel misses the eras when Arthur would cloak himself in the deepest of reds, the greediest of magpies loose on the seas, but he cleans up well in these modern calm blues. And there, quietly glinting in low yellow light, are still studs in his ear, little hints to personality cresting under the etiquette.
‘Gabe?‘ Arthur blinks, ‘What are you doing here?’ Surprise washes away his anger entirely, leaving only confusion and the briefest, tiniest, flash of relief that is very quickly hidden away.
‘I’m here for dinner.’ Gabriel slides himself into the chair opposite and smiles around at the people on the nearest tables to them, who glance their way curiously out of the corner of their eyes. When Gabriel speaks, he speaks more for their benefit than for Arthur’s, ‘Sorry that I’m so late; have you been here long?’
Arthur frowns and the press of his lips grows tighter, ‘What’s going on.’
‘I’m here for dinner, of course.’
‘Gabe.’
‘Am I not allowed to join you for dinner?’
‘Gabe.’
Gabriel lowers his voice and leans in closer, ‘I overheard Antonio earlier, talking to Francis on the phone.’
Arthur’s expression darkens, ‘Ah.’
‘Hmm.’ Gabriel hooks an ankle around Arthur’s under the table. Arthur doesn’t move. ‘Something about you two supposed to be going for a meal together this evening?’
‘That was the plan.’ Arthur takes a stiff drink of what looks to be wine, the bottle opened and kept cool in ice which hides the label- it is generous of him. The menu shows some very nice rums that Gabriel knows Arthur would have much preferred and the wine now only serves as a slowly warming olive branch. ‘I was supposed to meet him here.’
‘That’s what I heard. The trouble is, I caught Antonio discussing this with Francis not too long ago. He seemed to find something about that funny.’
Arthur nods once, his expression sour, ‘I see. So, you’re only here-’
‘I’m here to have dinner.’ Gabriel takes Arthur’s hand, his thumb running over the dry skin of his knuckles, ‘With you. I had been disappointed that we might not get the chance before either of us go back home, and thought that this was a wonderful opportunity that Francis has given us.’
A small smile lifts the corners of Arthur’s mouth. He snorts and the tightness of his shoulders loosens, ‘He does have his rare moments.’
‘Did he pre-book with his card?’
‘He’s not that foolish.’
‘Shame.’
‘I know. It’s French this place, too.’ Arthur wrinkles his nose and Gabriel chuckles.
A waiter hovers nearby, obviously pleased, or at least interested, that someone else has finally joined the table and Gabriel shakes his head for him to wait a moment. Picking up a menu, he taps the table with the edge, ‘I suppose you’ve done something recently that explains this?’
‘Explain what.’
‘This.’ Dining alone, Francis nowhere to be seen. Overtly catty for them, this decade at least.
‘No.’ Arthur says immediately. Then- ‘Maybe. But not intentionally.’
Gabriel looks at him.
Arthur takes another sip of wine. He has the grace to look somewhat abashed, ‘Maybe intentionally.’
Gabriel snorts and decides that he is better off not knowing.
The restaurant chatters around them. Arthur shifts and runs his fingers along his collar, smooths down his suit- a repetitive calming gesture that Gabriel imagines he’s done many times this evening under curious or pitying stares. This trick was particularly cruel of Francis. Of all the tortures, of all the ways to make him suffer, to make Arthur feel small and unwanted whilst the rest of the world watches is still the way to hurt him the most.
‘It’s Francis’ loss,’ Gabriel says with his eyes on the menu, tallying up the prices to the promised meal, ‘It looks exactly like what he’d actually enjoy.’
‘Rather than just enjoy slagging it off the whole time, you mean?’
Gabriel pouts, ‘He’s so loud.’
Arthur laughs. He leans across the table and pulls down Gabriel’s menu to point out what he’s having and Gabriel catches a hint of the aftershave he’s wearing. Arthur has tried this evening- the signs of a guilty conscience or a hopeful heart- and this makes Gabriel both sad and annoyed to realise. Exactly why, he chooses not to explore.
They just finish placing their order when Gabriel notices movement approach their table, someone focused on specifically them as soon as they step through the door.
‘What a nice surprise.’ Francis’ voice is low, warm silk. He appears from behind Arthur’s shoulder, also very well dressed for the occasion, and presses a kiss to his cheek before moving to greet Gabriel similarly, ‘I find two friends instead of one.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Arthur, darling, not in public.’ Francis raises an eyebrow at a waiter after catching her attention and indicates with his head to their table. A chair materialises in seconds and Francis settles into it, shrugging off his coat all smiles to be hung away in a flutter of quick professional hands.
‘Oh, have you ordered?’ He looks disappointed.
Arthur scowls and drags the poor wine out from its bucket. Away from Francis, Gabriel notes, ‘Go away.’
‘That’s not very nice.’
Francis yelps suddenly, his polite veneer cracking to a hiss as he leans to press a hand to his, presumably, recently abused shin. Gabriel delicately rearranges the table.
‘Why must you be this way?’
‘Why are you here.’
‘We had a dinner date, did we not?’
‘Yes,’ Arthur’s cheeks flush red once again, ‘An hour ago.’
Francis tuts and smooths some hair back behind his ears, ‘Yes, I did think you were dragging on a bit.’
Arthur stops, ‘What?’
‘Rather desperate of you to wait so long. I thought you had more self-respect than-‘
Arthur stands up in a screech of chair on tile, ‘Fuck you. Bastard.’
‘Arthur, wait,’ Francis grabs his arm and Gabriel begins to feel, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, that he’s been caught up in this intentionally somehow. As if he’s fallen into the role of unseen observer to their ongoing dance, ‘We’re even.’
Arthur hesitates.
Francis clears his throat and brushes his hand lightly somewhere around his collarbone, as if a hair has caught there or his clothes are irritating him. He pats it.
Arthur sits down. His cheeks are red, ‘We’re even.’
‘Good!’ Francis claps his hands together, looking smug, and scoots his chair in closer, ‘Now, let me recommend you-‘
‘No.’
Francis looks to Gabriel from Arthur in exasperation. Gabriel chuckles and gives him a one-armed shrug, ‘We’ve already ordered.’
‘Alas. It will be to your loss.’
A pregnant silence. Gabriel looks to Arthur, who shoots him a look in return that Gabriel could read several different ways and half of them suggest something illegal.
‘I was always going to come, you know.’ Francis offers to the table from behind his menu, ‘I was in the coffee shop over the road, keeping an eye on you.’
‘Stalker.’
Francis swats Arthur lightly on the arm without looking up, ‘It’s true, I-‘
Gabriel pushes his chair back an inch gently. They both stop to look at him, Francis still holding the menu with a page half turned. Gabriel smiles, ‘I think that I’m going to head back.’
‘What?’ Arthur sits up straighter, ‘Whatever for?’
There are many things that Gabriel could say. He doesn’t know which emotion to use to help him: that he feels foolish, suddenly, here dressed up and uninvited. That he feels embarrassed to have become entangled in this, in them, in what is and has always been their way of things. Even feeling unneeded and redundant, his initial goal now fulfilled. There were always too many rules when Francis got near Arthur, unwritten expectations that extended outwards and around them both.
‘I’m tired,’ he settles on, which is still partly true. Together they are always tiring.
Arthur eyes him, looking between each of Gabriel’s eyes and then down to his hands. One is a fist on the table. He relaxes it, places it on his lap.
‘I’m not allowing you to, I’m afraid,’ Francis hooks Gabriel’s ankle under the table, ‘You’re too good of company to lose and there is far too much I want to talk to you about.’
‘Oh really?’
Francis heaves a dramatic sigh and drops his menu, ‘Yes. My God, Lovino has been driving me insane. It’s something to do with Lars which of course I’m never going to learn about from him.’
Francis plucks the wine bottle from the bucket and tops up Gabriel’s drink continuing to reveal whatever drama he suspects to be brewing. As he talks, Gabriel feels Arthur’s foot wind around the one Francis hasn’t already taken, the tip of his shoe smoothing over the bone in his ankle. Gabriel catches his eye and Arthur moves to deliberately pin his toes in place.
He raises an eyebrow at him. Arthur smiles back, something warm and hopeful in his expression.
‘You owe me,’ he says, pushing his chair closer, and Arthur chuckles.
‘I’m sure you must owe me for something.’
‘Hmm, not after last mont-‘
‘Excuse me. Please do pay attention, the both of you. I loathe to repeat myself.’
‘I loathe you.’
‘The feeling is mutual. Anyway…’
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AN:
Anon, you cannot know how happy this ask made me. An Unfortunate Reminder was the first ever fic I wrote for Tumblr and the first oneshot in years, so I am overjoyed that it has been remembered.
“You know,” Arthur began, voice hoarse from disuse, as he watched Gabriel boost Francis over the fence, “when you two asked me to hang out today, I assumed we’d just be sitting in the park or something not, y’know, committing a crime.”
Gabriel grinned.
“Arthur, I’ve seen you steal your brothers’ beer enough times that I can say for a fact that you’re the last person here who can comment.” Gabriel, once Francis was over the fence, turned to Arthur expectantly, smiling at him in a way that made Arthur damn near melt.
“Technically, drinking alcohol under the age of 18 isn’t illegal, Gabe.” Arthur glanced over at Francis, who was miraculously not too busy grabbing his rucksack to snort a laugh at him.
“Still, it wouldn't kill you to have better taste. English beer? Really? I could accept German beer at least.”
“Yeah, and what do you—”
“Arthur, if you don’t get over here, I’m climbing this fence without you,” Gabriel smirked, “and we both know you’re too small to climb on your own.”
“Asshole, one day I’ll catch up to you!” Arthur stepped on Gabriel’s hands as the boy boosted him up, clambering onto the fence, sitting atop it and looking back down at Gabriel, “you sure you’re still alright getting up here?”
Gabriel smile, “Of course, unlike you two, I can actually reach the top of the fence.”
Asshole.
Idk when I’m gonna finish this given how fucky my motivation is at the moment so here’s a small snippet of an urban exploration au that @kojiro-of-spades reminded me of
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: England/France/Portugal (Hetalia)
Characters: England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Portugal (Hetalia)
Additional Tags: Painter AU, Sad with a Happy Ending, Time Period: 70s/80s
Summary:
His mind was busy with numbers and fleeting thoughts of dinner when he came home, an unfinished novel that he hoped to pick up if he had the time, the low hum of the old radio as Francis painted in his studio. Arthur heard the voices when he entered the apartment but thought nothing of it. It was only after he put the fresh baguettes on the counter and put the kettle on the stove that he frowned at the sound of an unfamiliar laughter.
Author’s Note: This is based on an au we discussed in my gereng server where engportfra are actors all pursuing set builder Ludwig while also being in a throuple themselves. Also, I like to think Francis uses he/they pronouns so I switch between those pronouns.
Curtain Call
The wings of the stage were buzzing with energy, for in a mere few hours, the curtains would rise, and the open night would commence. Ludwig put the final nail in the window frame he had been working on. At least it had fallen apart during the dress rehearsal and not the actual show. He just had to oil the wheels on one of the moving set pieces and check the other two to make sure they were still in working order, then they’d be good to go.
Hopefully, with the show coming to an end, Ludwig would finally be free of all the confusing feelings that had arisen during production. The thought was both a relief, but it also kind of hurt. To have three actors pursuing you definitely was overwhelming and made Ludwig’s job a lot harder, it was nice to be the center of attention for once, and over this time, he got to know his three suitors; he would miss them when they all went their separate ways.
He’d miss Arthur's nagging. Although it was annoying at times, it was nice to know someone cared enough to bring him water and make sure he was eating. He’d miss the way Arthur’s eyes would light up as he tried too hard to hide his smiles behind scowls. And most of all he’d miss the subtle compliments and flirty remarks that would rival the language used by poets of the past.
He’d miss Francis’s affection the most, he thinks. The way they’d hang off Ludwig as if it was the most normal thing in the world, how they would always greet him with a warm embrace and part with one even warmer. He’d miss the way Francis’s curls framed their face perfectly, always appearing so soft to the touch (but Ludwig would now never know if that was true). And though he was often overwhelmed by Francis’s forwardness when it came to flirting, he did appreciate the food they made, and he’d be lying if he said Francis’s compliments hadn’t boosted his confidence ever so slightly.
Lastly, he’d miss Afonso’s calmness. The way he could remain relaxed yet level-headed during even the most stressful situations and the way he would comfort Ludwig in the carpenter’s own stress. He’d miss the sweet, gentle nothings Afonso would occasionally whisper when Ludwig was burnt out and needed the pick-me-up. But the most he would miss the rare sight of Afonso focused: tightly knit brows, spark in his eye as he looked over his scripts, pulling any and all information to boost his performance.
As Ludwig pulled away from the last squeaky wheel, he came face to face with the three actors who had been consuming his thoughts.
Arthur was dressed in a fiery red coat that just reached his knees, with golden stitching along the edges. Golden chains and earrings, striking red eyeshadow, and dark eyeliner accented the outfit. A leather corset wrapped around his middle gave the otherwise fearsome look an alluring aura. To top it all off, a pirate cap adorned with pale feathers. An outfit befitting of both a seductive yet dangerous pirate captain.
Francis in turn was fitting in a frilly blouse and a pale blue coat that reached the floor. It was as if the stars had been taken and threaded into the fabric itself with the way it glittered with every small movement. His hat was a greyish white, decorated with dried flowers instead of the traditional feathers. He was dripping in jewelry and gems: earrings, necklaces, bracelets, all of which matched Francis’s eyes. The sparkly look was complete with purple eyeshadow with a hint of glitter. He looked like royalty despite being a mere pirate captain.
Afonso was dressed in a nobleman’s coat. Darker green vine patterns wrapped around the torso and sleeves, meeting with the silver stitched pattern on the edge of the collars and cuffs. His hair was tied back by a matching ribbon, giving a clear view of his face. His natural features were amplified by simple makeup instead of the brightly coloured blends of Arthur and Francis, yet he was nonetheless beautiful. An elegant nobleman if there ever was one.
Ludwig felt his whole face burn seeing them decked out in their costumes. All he could do was stare, unable to form a coherent thought in their presence. It was as if he was back to the very first time the three had begun flirting with him.
Francis’s giggling shook Ludwig from his daze. Arthur shoved the Frenchman. “What?” Francis asked with feigned offense, “He probably thinks we look pretty. So much so he’s been left speechless.”
“Or he’s thinking: ‘thank god I’m not you,’” Arthur shot back, gesturing to the other’s costume. “You’re going to melt under all those damn frills.”
“Aw are you concerned mon amour?”
Arthur’s face turned bright red, but if looks could kill, that glare would have ended Francis on the spot. Luckily before things could escalate. Afonso stepped between the two. “Now, now, meus amores, we have more important business here right? We’re going to scare him off like this.”
Wait… ‘mon amour’ and ‘meus amores’? Ludwig may not have been well versed in French or Portuguese, but he knew Italian well, and those sounded like…
“So…” Afonso went on, “I don’t know if you’ve realized what we’ve been trying to do, but with us parting ways soon, we’ve decided to just come out as say…”
“We love you,” Francis continued.
“All of us,” Arthur added.
“Romantically,” Afonso concluded for clarity.
So they did fancy him. It was quite obvious to everyone (including Ludwig) that these three actors had liked him romantically, but hearing it laid out so clearly still made Ludwig’s head spin. Perhaps part of the shock came from the fact that it appeared all three of the actors were dating as well. “Wait…Are all of you…”
“Together?” Francis finished for him, “Yes. Yes, we are.” To prove the point he took Afonso’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know sooner, it’s all over the tabloids,” Arthur noted.
“But what we are trying to get at is that we want to invite you into it,” Afonso explained.
Ludwig awkwardly opened and closed his mouth, trying to find what he wanted to say. It was a dream come true. Over this production, he had fallen in love with all three of them and couldn’t bear to choose only one of them. But with this revelation, he could have it all, and everyone would be happy.
“Love,” Arthur spoke softly, stepping forward to put a hand on Ludwig’s arm. “You don’t have to make a decision now. You’ve got time to think. We just wanted–”
“I’d love to,” Ludwig blurted out. His blush surely darkened as he realized how desperate he sounded. “I-I mean…I’d like that…I have feelings for all of you so…”
The three actors looked at Ludwig with wide eyes. “Well then…guess it’s settled,” Francis said with an amused huff. “Perhaps we can have dinner after the show tonight.”
Ludwig nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.
“Ten minutes till curtain,” someone shouted in the distance.
“Well I guess this is farewell until intermission,” Arthur sighed.
The three bid farewell to Ludwig, giving the German the much-needed time to process everything. But as he waved to the actors as they departed, Ludwig couldn’t suppress a wide grin from spreading on his face.
just a 1AM dump of fraport ideas leftover from the rather deep hole i spiralled into after writing that last fic, that I'm too tired to develop rn but had to put somewhere:
i always write them having moody conversations, usually about arthur, and its been difficult for me to find ways that francis and gabriel can truly connect as themselves rather than through arthur as a sort of shared medium
having said that -- BONDING THROUGH MELODRAMATIC KARAOKE. Cooking together for no one except them bc someone dropped out of dinner plans, bickering about how to dice the fuckin peppers, and then francis is like lets put on some music and 10 minutes later theyre unironically singing the saddest love songs they can find as they wait for the pork to brown -- need i say more.
i just think they would both really love a more mature, hard-hitting ballad with beautiful, soaring, or heart-wrenching vocals
its hard to give examples bc the examples i have in mind are all Not In English -- BUT if youve ever heard that dude on portuguese the voice singing Adele's When We Were Young? -- that's it. [if u havent heard it forget ab this post just go bless ur ears]
I think Adele's All I Ask would also be a great pick -- and theres just something about the idea of them singing in english, by a british artist, that is so *chefs kiss
ofc having said that i think most of the songs they would both know would be in french, although i think francis could also surprise gabriel with a few bangers in Portuguese
gabe is def the better singer but francis is no slouch -- i think their voices would compliment each other really well: Gabriel: more rounded, quietly tender, mournful but controlled; Francis: more *drama*, master of the sudden breathy falsetto to powerful real voice transition
carrots or wine bottles as mics only
then they eat their ten course meal bc these two will never cook a little when they can cook a lot (and yet when they are alone they will just subsist on coffee/dairy products eaten straight from the fridge)
speaking of coffee -- francis (silently, bc if veneziano knew he would cry) thinks gabriel makes the best coffee in europe -- not that you can get the best coffee in portugal, the country, but that Gabriel, the person, makes a mean fuckin latte
hes a little bit jealous that arthur has been drinking it for 500 years and doesnt even think that much of it bc he prefers tea
i've gotten off topic
after they have dinner francis says he has some work to finish so he sees Gabe out to the curb
cheek kisses
francis texts arthur as he goes back up "i can see why you are so smitten with him"
"what the fuck is that supposed to mean"
gabriel also calls arthur as hes walking back to his hotel and arthur asks him what the hell they did together (to make francis say that) but gabriel is oblivious like we just cooked and ate, literally nothing, he said he had some work so I left
arthur (suspicious): ok
port (thoughtful): "although...i wouldnt have minded staying tonight, i guess"
*arthur hangs up on him in utter shock and betrayal
