"So I got my boots on,
Got the right amount of leather
And I'm doing me up with a black colored liner
And I'm working my strut but I know it don't matter
All we need in this world is some love."
-Adam Lambert, If I Had You
Eiríkur didn't like the spotlight. He loathed it. The thought of paparazzi trailing his every move, with bright flashing lights in his face, people clamoring for an interview or to talk to him, to see him made him uncomfortable. Some people laughed at Eiríkur for his fear.
"Why are you a model if you can't handle the limelight?" they would question, rolling their eyes smeared with charcoal and green eye shadow. "It's stupid to do something that you hate!"
Eiríkur detested the response that some of the photographers or fellow supermodels gave him. He didn't hate modeling, he would tell them, he hated the attention that came with it. But the rest of the models were attention seeking fools- beautiful attention seeking fools, granted, but still fools nonetheless- and none of them could understand.
They modeled for the attention. They wore the designer clothes to get into magazines, to be on talk shows, to be famous worldwide, to have everyone know their name and for people to gush over the most miniscule thing that they did.
They modeled because they were good at it, and because someone had told them one day and said 'I'll pay you this amount of money to walk down a stage and look pretty'.
Unlike the others, the silver haired teenager modeled because he enjoyed it. He hated being known for his modeling, but he enjoyed the energy that came from doing a photo shoot, the excitement of some of the photographers and the constant adrenaline of moving from one place to another in a constantly changing field.
The happiness he got from new offers to model was something he would never quite get used to. The nervousness he felt at first on a new shoot or meeting a new person disappeared as soon as he stepped on set and focused on the camera.
He liked modeling because it helped show who he was- his personality, his likes and dislikes, and his hopes and dreams. You could tell so much from a click of a button and an image printed on paper. Eiríkur adored all the emotions he could show others in his poses and expression. It was who he was.
And here he was now, sitting cross legged on a couch while a tall makeup artist applied careful layers of foundation to his already pale and clear skin. The amethyst-eyed boy wrinkled his nose as the fluffy brush floated over his nose, tickling it and almost making him sneeze violently.
"Oh, no you don't." The tan girl threatened the model, smacking away the gloved hand that was going up to rub his powdered nose. "You are not touching my masterpiece, Eiríkur. I am not spending another twenty minutes blending the pink to match perfectly with your skin, not again."
"Well, I'm sorry for being so pale."
"Damn right, you should be. You should go spend more time outside, in the sun or something. You look like a corpse with skin as lightly coloured as yours."
Eiríkur raised an eyebrow before hastily closing his eyes as the female came towards him baring a small liquid eyeliner brush.
"Thanks, Michelle. It's always good to know that I can count on you to be honest about my appearance."
The brown haired girl smiled brightly as she expertly made a small wing off of his left eye.
"No problem!" she replied cheerily.
The two were quiet after that, as Michelle continued to apply the layers of makeup, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration on her work, as Eiríkur silently twisted his fingers and tried to ignore the slight tickling feeling as every new sheet of colour was added on top of the one before it.
Usually he would have a lot less makeup on, but this photo shoot was trying to create the impression of a 'high class party' so Eiríkur was being made up to look like a life sized porcelain doll, with his signature tall white boots and big bow on top of a tuxedo. He personally disliked the idea of the shoot. The photographers were just trying to make the models look and seem more important. To do so the photographers stuck them in a borrowed mansion (which was where he and Michelle were at that moment, in a small upstairs powder room that had been converted into his own private dressing room), and they were going to snap photographs of the models speaking to one another, or sitting on the couch with a drink, or anything else among those lines.
Eiríkur, who was probably the youngest at the shoot at the ripe age of fifteen, was not going to be part of the latter category. He couldn't drink, so why pretend to be able to? He wasn't sure what he was going to do, probably just sit around and look pretty or 'talk' to some of the other models. How boring. At least he could focus on seeming as animated as possible without any distractions of his fellow models.
Michelle finished up his eyes, and nodded approvingly as he slowly blinked after getting the 'okay' from the makeup artist.
"Don't you look cute? Stay there for a second, Eiríkur. I need to grab the lipstick." Eiríkur gave a pouting look at the twenty two year old, who laughed at his expression. "Don't look at me like that. The lipstick isn't that bad, it's a natural colour. Nothing like the last shoot's."
"Okay, good. The last one's made me look like a girl." Eiríkur crossed his arms, his jacket's long sleeves flopping dully over his hands.
"It did not. The red actually suited you."
"No it didn't."
"Yes it did."
"No it did not."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No-"
By this time, Michelle had found the lipstick and had stalked back over to the white haired boy, and had uncapped the lipstick and twirled the end to get the pink paint high enough to use. She grabbed Eiríkur's chin and forced his head up to look at her, and pressed the lipstick against his lips.
"Mrm- Michelle!" Eiríkur tried to twist his face away, but the girl held his head firmly as she carefully traced the young boy's lips with the stick. Michelle released his head and capped the lipstick, smiling brightly at the moping boy, sending him a brief glare to stop him from wiping off the paint.
"Oh, man up, Eiríkur. It's just a little lipstick. It looks fine. You look normal!"
Eiríkur muttered something under his breath as he stood up, shaking out his legs after being stuck in the same uncomfortable chair in front of a large mirror. He grabbed the tuxedo that was neatly hanging on the rack and set it on the chair, before undoing the zipper of his jacket and taking it off.
"Uh, Michelle?" the silver haired boy asked, slowing his movements as he noticed that the dark skinned female was still in the room. "Could you leave while I get changed? It's, um, a little bit awkward…"
The native of Seychelles smiled and shook her head, heading towards the door like the model had asked. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Eiríkur! I've known you since you were little baby! Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen yet."
Eiríkur's face turned an unflattering shade of pink. "S-Shut up, and get out!"
The girl let out a giggle as she shut the door behind her, after winking at the boy and flouncing out in her signature Michelle way.
The Icelandic teen sighed, exasperated, as he quickly changed out of his regular clothes and into the fancy ones laid out. He laced up his tall white boots and was just beginning to tie his bowtie when there was a knock on the door.
"Eiríkur, you need to be downstairs in five minutes."
"I'll be out in a minute." he called back to Michelle, hastily finishing the white bow and combing through his hair with his fingers, forgetting that earlier he had gotten it styled. Ah well, too late now. He left the room with haste, giving a small wave to the well-dressed stylist, and headed down the large elegant steps to the downstairs entry way, where most of the picture-taking was going to take place.
It seemed like most of the other models had received the notice as well. Some of the models he knew personally, like Elizabeta and Sadık, since he had worked with them on previous shoots. Others he didn't know but could recognize, like Lovino Vargas, Yong Soo Im, and Katyusha Braginskaya. The rest either had not come down yet or he didn't know who they were at all.
It would be rather awkward to stand by himself on the staircase, so Eiríkur slowly made his way over to where Sadık was standing, talking to- thankfully- Elizabeta.
"Eiríkur!" Elizabeta exclaimed cheerfully, grabbing the young boy's gloved hand and pulling him into a tight hug, wrinkles in their clothes be damned. "I've missed your adorable face!"
"Thanks Elizabeta. Really happy to know that you care about me, and uh, I've missed you too." Eiríkur muttered from his position of being smushed against her large chest. "Could you please let me go? This is rather uncomfortable..."
The brown haired woman reluctantly let go of the Icelandic teen, smiling brightly at the embarrassed look on his face. Elizabeta Héderváry looked positively stunning in her long blue dress, the fabric hugging her tightly, with her brown hair tied up elaborately in a knot. She was already tall to begin with, but with the white three inch heels on her feet, she had to be at least hovering around the six feet mark. The most basic way of putting it was that Elizabeta looked beautiful. It was amazing to see her transition from her usual boyish nature to an elegant high-class lady. But now she was a good foot taller than Eiríkur, a fact at which he couldn't help but grumble about.
Eiríkur turned to look at Sadık, who ruffled his hair good naturedly with a large grin on his face. "Icey!" he greeted cheerfully, a smile stretching across his mask covered face. "You haven't grown an inch since I've last saw you."
The teen scowled as he tried to fix his messy hair, knowing that despite it he would always look like he had just rolled out of bed. "I'm feeling the love, Sadık."
Sadık laughed loudly, the deep sound rolling off of the tall ceiling, and bringing attention to the three standing to the right of the staircase. "Haven't changed a bit, Icey!"
"Will you stop calling me that nickname?"
"Why? It suits you. Tell him, Eliza."
"It's true, Eiríkur. You're so icy on the outside but on the inside you're like a big gooey brownie of warmth and happiness!"
"…Did you just call me the human version of a lava cake?"
"Basically." She didn't seem much abashed by this.
Eiríkur didn't know how to respond to such an absurd comment which had been delivered so seriously. Thankfully though, he was spared from of his friends picking any more on him when the director of the shoot loudly clapped his hands to grab the attention of the models and workers, and motioned for all of them to come closer.
The silver haired teen stuck close to Elizabeta and Sadık, and soon found himself squished between the two older models. He looked around briefly and quickly realized that all the models had finished dressing and were downstairs. It looked like there were a little less than a dozen of them altogether.
"Alright! Is everyone here? Good. I'm going to split you up into the rooms. Bondevik, Héderváry, Oxenstierna. You'll be in the entertainment room. Im, Steilsson, Kirkland, Vargas- den. Adnan, Braginskaya, Hassan, and Karpusi, you'll be out by the balcony. Just to remind you all, the scene is a high class party. We are modelling the accessories of Bonbeau. The women should have their purses, necklaces, and shoes, and the men should have their gloves, pocket watches, and glasses."
Eiríkur didn't have a pocket watch or glasses. He hoped that would be okay. He had his gloves and that was about it.
"You should all act important. You are important and therefore you shall emit the idea of importance. You must walk tall and proud. You have money and you know it. You are sly, cunning, and even though some of you may act relaxed you must act like you have complete control of the situation we place you in. Got it?"
So be stereotypical rich people. Stand there and look pretty. Throw money everywhere. Try not to look into the camera like you're on The Office. He could do that. Unfortunately for him though, the Icelandic teen was separated from Elizabeta and Sadık, and was stuck with Lovino Vargas (who he had heard was fairly temperamental) and Yong Soo Im (who was a pervert). Who Kirkland was, he didn't know, but perhaps they had a relation to the famous photographer, Arthur Kirkland. Either way, it was an interesting, if not fairly scary, group to be in.
Elizabeta struck out when she got her group. All of them were completely normal, if not a little tall and quiet. But she was having just as an interesting time as Eiríkur was.
Sadık waved goodbye to the silver haired teen and blew a mocking kiss at Elizabeta, much to her amusement. As the three separated ways, Elizabeta looked at who she was working with. Berwald Oxenstierna was a rather famous model who mostly premiered wearing fancy men's fashion. It was not a surprise to anyone that he was there. Lukas Bondevik was also going to be working with Elizabeta, a fairly young model that was quickly rising through the ranks. She thought that was around twenty or so, although he looked older. Hmm. She wondered what they were doing in the entertainment room. It was nothing but a large spacious room with a few couches and chairs placed next to the window, and a pool table on the side, near several bookshelves and china cases. Perhaps their theme would be 'business' or something similar so it looked like they were having a meeting about stocks, or whatever it was that business people talked about at fancy parties.
"Alright then. Bondevik and Oxenstierna, we're going to need you to act like you're playing pool." The two blonds nodded and picked up the offered pool sticks, and walked over to the far side of the room where the curtains were pulled shut and the artificial lighting was turned on to a dim setting. Some of the balls were already knocked around and in the corner holes, but a tap to them from Berwald sent the rest of them scattering across the large velvet surface.
"Héderváry, stand by the front of the table and lean on it on your elbows- yes, just like that." The photographer ordered. "Now, act like you own the world, like you have it in the palm of your hand. Look smug. Perfect! Bondevik, go to her left and aim the ball- Oxenstierna, hold the stick in one hand and keep your eyes on the ball. Yes! That's it!"
The flash began to go off on the camera, only stopping every once in a while to make the models change positions. Sometimes the photographer wanted both Berwald and Lukas to have their glasses on, sometimes only Berwald or only Lukas, and once he made Elizabeta wear Lukas's, much to her amusement as they kept on sliding off her face.
As the camera man issued another change of positions, the Hungarian woman briefly wondered how Sadık and Eiríkur's photo shoots were doing. Hopefully Sadık wasn't being his usual annoying self and wouldn't pick a fight with another one of the models, and Eiríkur wasn't being molested because of his adorable looks.
Honestly, those two could never last without her pulling them back from fights or young men flirting with the oblivious Icelandic teen.
The things she does for her adopted family.
Meanwhile, over on Sadık's side of the photo shoot, much to Elizabeta's prediction, Sadık was picking a fight with another one of the models. Come on. The guy was fucking asking for it, being all snooty and sleeping all the time- like when Sadık was introducing himself, the dick. Who picked a model that would sleep all the time? Idiots.
This was a photo shoot. You had to be professional.
...
Screw being professional, if Sadık didn't end up punching the Greek bastard by the end of the shoot it would be a goddamn miracle and world peace would ensue.
At least Gupta was here, along with a pretty lady that looked stunning in her red dress. That did raise his mood a little bit and distracted him from killing the brat.
"Alright! Hassan, Braginskaya, if you two could please sit on the sun chair. Karpusi, Adnan, you'll be standing by the railing. Don't try to push each other over." The photographer muttered the last sentence under his breath and made a shooing motion with his hands to make the models move to their spots.
Sadık made a face behind his mask before moving over to do what the photographer said. He stood about three feet away from the Greek man and leaned on the railing with the back to it, staring at the photographer that was fixing up Gupta's and the pretty lady's poses.
"Alright! There we go! Now, Adnan-"
This was going to be a long photo shoot.
Eiríkur's situation was both completely different and similar to Elizabeta's and Sadık's. Nothing was ever normal at a photo shoot, as Eiríkur had learned early on in his career, and he should have expected that this one wouldn't be any different.
The Icelandic teen was working with Yong Soo Im, Something Kirkland (he still hadn't caught his name), and Lovino Vargas. He knew about the first and last people on that list- one was a pervert from South Korea that was admittedly a fairly good model despite his... interests, and Lovino was a temperamental Italian that swore at every moment, but he was also an extremely good model- but he had no idea about who Kirkland was.
That was why, when the photo shoot director ordered them to stand in a line, Eiríkur made sure to stand at the end of the line next to Kirkland, who quickly introduced himself, "The name's James Kirkland. Call me Jamie." who turned out to be an even tempered, polite young twenty year old from New Zealand.
At least there was one sane person with him.
"Alright gents, let's get started. Vargas, I need you to go stand behind the bar and take the apron on the counter. Look natural, like you know what you're doing mixing drinks. Have a blank face, however."
Eiríkur pretended that he didn't hear the Italian say, "Bastard, I am a professional at mixing drinks."
"Kirkland, go sit on the barstool and hold the glass of vodka near your chest- yes, like that. Act like you're a high class, young male at a party and you're looking for pretty women."
Jamie nodded and hopped up on the stool, nodding his thanks to Lovino when the Italian pushed the glass of water towards him. Lovino had already put on the apron, and admittedly, with his sleeves rolled up and his black tie, he looked like a professional chef or wait staff. The Italian male had also gotten out a few of the supplied alcohol and was expertly mixing the drinks, the camera was already snapping pictures of the young man pouring the drinks like a pro.
"Steilsson, you go sit up on the counter, behind Kirkland, and lean back on your arms. Let's see- how old are you again?" the director asked, suddenly turning away from the scene he was making to look at the boy.
"Fifteen, sir."
"Fifteen, you say..."
He looked at the other models. "How old could he pass for?"
Jamie bit his lip as he stared at the young boy, Yong Soo and Lovino doing the same.
"Eh, the brat could be sixteen or seventeen."
"I think eighteen might be a bit of a stretch, da-ze!"
"Bastard, you're eighteen."
"Which is exactly why I know why he doesn't look like he's eighteen, da-ze!"
Jamie finally gave his own input. "He looks like he might be legal, but I wouldn't push it."
The director nodded to himself, pulling out a small checklist from his pocket and crossing something off. "I thought so. Steilsson, go sit on the bar and lean back on your elbows. Just stay like that for now."
Eiríkur nodded and walked over to the bar, where he jumped onto the clean and sparkly cherry oak and leaned back on his hands, his legs crossed and a somewhat bored expression on his face.
"Im, go in front of Kirkland on the stool two in front of him, but lean against the bar so you're not blocking him. Vargas, give him a drink."
"Aye, aye sir." Lovino gave a mocking salute to the photo shoot director before he handed a pale yellow drink to the Korean, after telling him quietly that if he wasted the good alcohol he would have his head on a pike.
"Alright, and I need everyone to get in their poses..."
And then the photo shoot really started, with the director snapping photos of all them in bright lighting, sometimes stopping and changing their poses a little, or having Lovino lean against the bar or Jamie switch arms, but it was uneventful for the most part.
It was during their break, after about an hour of posing (an hour of Eiríkur's arms and legs cramping from staying in the same spot) when another one of the photo directors came bombing in. The models were all still sitting at the bar, however, now Jamie, Lovino, and Yong Soo had alcoholic drinks in front of them (it took a little convincing from Lovino) and several of the bottles of fine whiskey and wine were somewhat depleted. They didn't seem to be very drunk, which was good, but it was enough to take away the headache that came with staring at the bright light for an hour, like some people (Eiríkur) had to. The fifteen year old only had a glass of lemonade in front of him, which was perfectly fine by the Icelandic teen. No need to get drunk.
But the two directors were talking to one another in hushed whispers, several times looking over the models, before their director called out, "Steilsson!"
Eiríkur blinked and turned away from his conversation with Jamie. "Yes, sir?" He had moved to sit on the stool next to him and they were having a pleasant conversation about their countries and how they got into modeling.
"Mr. Germania here is going to have to borrow you for his photo shoot. They need someone that fits the criteria of young, small, and cute. I hope you do not mind being used in the other shoot."
Eiríkur blinked. "Not at all sir."
Mr. Germania nodded briskly before he motioned for Eiríkur to follow him. "Come with me." Eiríkur tilted his head to his colleagues as goodbye as he hopped off his stool and walked to the doorway, where Germania was holding the large wooden door open.
"Now, no doubt you're wondering what I need you to do." Germania looked at Eiríkur, who nodded as he tried to catch up to the quick walking blond.
"Yes, sir."
"My photo shoot is based on a dark saloon. We have already shot pictures at the pool table and other games, but now we need to sit down and have the stereotypical tall men, beautiful women, a couple of cigars and whiskeys, and a beautiful young person to sit in one of the males lap's."
Eiríkur opened and closed his mouth a few times before nodding. "A-Alright." That's so awkward and kind of weird… 'Hi random person, sorry for intruding, but I'm just going to sit on your lap for a little while so people we don't know take pictures. Hope you don't mind.' Yes. That will go fabulously.
"I hope you don't mind, I do realize this might be fairly awkward for you to do, but I can always get someone else if you are not willing."
The look in Germania's eyes said that he was relying on the small Icelandic teen. "N-No, that's fine. I'll do it."
Germania smiled, looking satisfied. "Good. Thank you, Mr. Steilsson. Ah. We are here."
'Here' was another large door somewhere down another hallway close to the room of his previous photo shoot. The door was a rather big size, with the same cherry oak as the bar was and had carvings all around the edges, showing vines and flowers with immaculate detail.
Okay, maybe he was just stalling from being pushed inside.
At least he had either Elizabeta or Sadık in this group, from what he could tell, it was probably Elizabeta's, and he knew that she would get a kick out of this situation.
So would Sadık for that matter. The Turkish male would probably offer his lap to the teen.
Eiríkur's face turned a light pink. How embarrassing!
Germania opened the door and interrupted Eiríkur from his thoughts.
Oh no, it was Elizabeta.
She would never let him live this down.
Why couldn't she sit on one of their laps? Or that other woman that was in Sadık's group? Ah, that's right, because both of the women were tall and that between them and Eiríkur there was a distinct difference between 'cute' and 'beautiful'. Eiríkur was a very modest and shy individual. He also had pride. Sitting in laps was against his way of thinking. He stopped doing that when he was eight.
The room he had entered reminded him of a saloon. It was dark, smokey, but the places where the models were sitting on the brown leather couches and chairs were illuminated by the bright lamps hanging above their heads. Eiríkur could see Elizabeta lounging comfortably on one of the couches, and a tall and imposing blond haired man was sitting on an arm chair. Another blond man sat on the sofa across from the Hungarian woman, dressed like the rest in a suit and tie.
The models all looked up when he and Germania entered the room.
"I have found another model for the shoot," the director announced without any feeling in his voice. Elizabeta's smile turned into one that reminded Eiríkur of a cat that caught a canary, and the teen shivered, turning away from the woman. "Steilsson, meet Héderváry-" Elizabeta gave a small wave to Eiríkur and stuck out her tongue when no one was looking. "-Bondevik-" the man on the couch opposite of Elizabeta nodded, his dull blue eyes catching Eiríkur's for a second before dropping them. "-and Oxenstierna." The other man, the tall and imposing one with a deep frown, inclined his head to the Icelandic teen.
"Wonderful. Now that you are all acquainted, let us start the shoot. Steilsson, if you could please go sit on Oxenstierna..."
Awkward. Eiríkur gave a small nod and walked hesitantly over to to the man in the arm chair. "Eiríkur Steilsson."
"Berwald Oxenstierna."
The older man folded his legs and the teen perched on his knee like a little kid would on Santa Claus.
"No, more natural."
You try sitting on a strangers' lap with everyone looking at you - it isn't the most pleasant feeling.
Eiríkur shuffled back more and the other man uncomfortably placed his hands on the teen's waist. Eiríkur leaned against him and waited for the others to be put in their spots.
"Ya know, I've got a s'n a c'uple years younger than ya..."
Eiríkur blinked at hearing Oxenstierna's voice. "Oh? What's his name?"
Berwald gave a small smile. "Peter. He's eleve'n, he's at home with m'a w'fe right now, back in Swede'n. He's not very intereste'd in modelin', but he likes ta help animals lik' his mum."
The teen smiled at the fondness in the other man's voice. "He sounds like a good kid."
The Swedish man turned his head and looked at Eiríkur through his glasses. "He is."
"Alright, and- begin!"
Eiríkur twisted his head to let the camera have a slightly profile view of his face, and relaxed slightly in Berwald's hold. They sat that way for a while, before they had Eiríkur switch into the other man's lap.
The teen awkwardly slid off of Berwald's lap, the older man offering him a small and fleeting smile before turning stone faced once again, and walked over hesitantly to the bored looking man on the couch.
Once Eiríkur had almost reached him, the blond stood up and offered his hand to the Icelandic native. "Lukas Bondevik."
Eiríkur inclined his head. "Eiríkur Steilsson, nice to meet you."
"Hn." Lukas sat back down on the couch and crossed legs, balancing his ankle on his knee, and leaned back against the leather. Eiríkur sat down, a small almost unnoticeable blush on his cheeks in embarrassment, as he leaned back against Lukas to keep from falling. The teen let out a small squeak as Lukas wrapped his arms around Eiríkur, and the teen looked away from the man to keep him from seeing his blush.
So awkward! Lukas didn't seem to be interesting in making conversation either, like Berwald. Great.
"Okay. And three- two- one-"
Eiríkur plastered a smug look on his face as Lukas raised an eyebrow at the camera, as if teasing and asking the people looking at the photo what are you looking at?.
"Yes! Steilsson, turn to the side."
Eiríkur quickly changed positions and the lights flashed again, this time Eiríkur put his right elbow on Lukas's shoulder, and bit his gloves, as if to pull them off- and thus bringing attention to what they were modelling.
"Good!"
Lukas's lips tilted upward in a half smile as he grabbed the silver haired teen's chin and forced him to look at him, and he heard the cameras go off again.
"Alright, cut!" Germania called out, causing Lukas to relax his grip and allowing Eiríkur to try and attempt getting off of the other man. Only instead of it going as smoothly as Eiríkur hoped, one of the assistants zoomed by them to fix a prop and accidentally bumped into Eiríkur, who had turned around to offer his hand to Lukas, causing him to fall back into his lap, embarrassingly enough.
The teen blinked a few times before a startling blush grew on his cheeks. "A-Ah! I'm so sorry!"
Lukas's face, although still maintaining it's slightly dull look, had a faint tint of pink too. "No, no, it's fine." He reassured Eiríkur, who's face was about five inches away from his own. "Don't worry."
They both were silent for a second before the click of a camera could be heard again. Lukas and Eiríkur looked startled at Germania, who was ordering the other photographers to snap pictures from different angles.
"W-What?" Eiríkur asked, confused.
Lukas silently agreed with him.
"It's perfect!" the director said at their questioning glances. "Steilsson, I need you to get more up on Bondevik's lap. Sit on it, yes."
Eiríkur opened his mouth to respond, but he closed it instead and did as he was told, awkwardly putting his legs on either side of the man's and nearly in seiza. Lukas once again wrapped his arms around the teen's waist- they were nearly chest to chest.
"Good. Now, touch foreheads."
Eiríkur shot a looked at Germania- who of course wasn't looking, instead fixing a mistake one of the assistance made- and pressed his forehead against Lukas's, flinching slightly as some of his bangs flew into his eyes.
"Ready?"
The two of them nodded- which didn't work out very well, obviously- and they got a short countdown. Once it hit one, Lukas looked straight towards and into the main camera and nearly pressed his mouth against the other boy's (if Eiríkur wasn't at a shoot you would be able to feel his embarrassment rolling off him in waves, he was never good at this 'touchy feely' stuff- oh my god Elizabeta was still watching since she still hadn't done her part of the shoot yet) and smirked. Eiríkur just looked at Lukas and pressed his palms against his shoulders.
"Perfect! Perfect!" Germania cheered. Eiríkur figured that the man being so happy was unusual given by the reactions he could see out of the corner of his eye. "I thought this would work! I know that you two would look good together."
"...Are you even legal?" Lukas muttered from the corner of his mouth.
Eiríkur raised his eyebrows, which was thankfully hidden by his fringe. "I'm fifteen."
"...Ah, no in that case. At least this wont be pedophilic then."
"How old are you?" Eiríkur asked curiously. Lukas couldn't be any older than 22 or so.
"Twenty."
Eiríkur nodded slightly. "Ah."
They were silent until Germania called a cut. Eiríkur was positive that if the man was a dog, his tail would be wagging so hard at the shots he got.
"Perfect!" said blond clapped his hands together and called the other models attention to them.
The Icelandic teen carefully stood up (putting a little distance between himself and Lukas as to not have another 'shove and fall' incident happen) and offered his hand. Lukas took it and the two of them nodded to each other before parting ways, as Lukas stood next to Berwald and Eiríkur himself stood next to Elizabeta.
"Not. One. Word." he told the woman, who was grinning like a fox.
"I can't wait to see the pictures," she told him, and Eiríkur shuddered at the thought of Elizabeta having blackmail material over him.
Or worse, Michelle.
"Okay, that will be a wrap with Mr. Steilsson."
Thank god.
"Ms. Héderváry, if you would please lean against the pool table- yes! Exactly like that!" Germania turned back to Eiríkur. "Thank you for your hard work. Do you know the way back to your shoot?"
The Icelandic teen nodded as he pulled his glove back on.
"Wonderful! Lovely to have worked with you."
"You too." He nodded goodbye to Berwald and Lukas, and shot a look at Elizabeta that told her to 'shut up and don't mention anything' before he exited the room.
It took a few turns and a little bit of cursing to find his way back, but he did eventually find the large parlor and bar that was connected by the hallways. The silver haired boy slid in quietly during one of the shoots- Jamie was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wooden bar with a bottle of wine next to him- and strolled up behind Lovino and Yong Soo who were bickering over Lovino's apron.
"Give it back, you damn bastard!"
"But I want to wear it, da-ze~!"
"It's mine!"
"You can share!"
"Goddamit you-"
"Glad to see that everyone's getting along wonderfully." Eiríkur remarked drily from the side, making the two turn to look at him.
"Ah, so the little brat's done." Lovino used Eiríkur's entrance as a distraction and took his apron back from Yong Soo, quickly tying it around his waist so the Korean couldn't steal it.
Yong Soo pouted at his defeat, before looking at Eiríkur. "So! What did they have you do, da-ze?"
A faint flush came over the teen's face, and an interested (and maybe partly sadistic) look appeared on Lovino and Yong Soo's faces.
"Oooh?" Lovino leaned in closer to look at the fifteen year old, much to his discomfort. "What did you do, brat?"
"N-Nothing. I did nothing."
"Nu-uh," Yong Soo wagged his finger. "You did something or else you wouldn't be avoiding the question, da-ze."
"I didn't-!"
"Oi, why are we bugging Eiríkur?" Jamie startled the trio. They looked up and saw that his part of the shoot was finished and that he had joined them without any of them noticing.
Lovino straightened up and announced the 'problem' before the other two could. "The brat doesn't want to tell us what he did at the other shitty shoot."
"I don't want to tell you!"
"Is it embarrassing?" Jamie asked. Eiríkur's silence confirmed this for him, and he sighed. "Lovino, Yong Soo, don't bug Eiríkur. It's obvious he won't tell us."
Eiríkur let out a sigh of relief as the other two backed off and muttered inaudible words under their breath.
"Besides, we'll just see the pictures anyway when the magazine comes out!"
"What?" Eiríkur looked in horror over at Jamie, who was smiling innocently at the younger teen. "You're supposed to be on my side!"
It was sometime in December, when the party to celebrate the magazine was held.
The restaurant they had rented out was a large, elaborate, and extremely overpriced sushi place. It had rice paper sliding doors that led out to a courtyard in the back (that thankfully had heaters hidden in the rafters surrounding the perimeters, considering how cold and rotten it gets during winter) where they were having the cocktail party, and inside were tables upon tables to hold all the people that showed up.
Eiríkur wrinkled his nose. He hated these kinds of parties. It wasn't even about the magazine; only to show off your wealth and fame or position in the hierarchy of modelling.
"Oi, brat!" the Icelandic teen looked up from his spot in the corner to see Lovino bustling towards him with Jamie in tow. "What are you doing? Get over here."
"Er- Ah!" Eiríkur let out a small cry as he was forcibly dragged from his spot and pulled towards one of the tables inside, where he could see people mingling.
"What are you trying to do? Hide? As if, bastard!"
Jamie gave the teen an apologetic look as Eiríkur silently pleaded him to make Lovino let go.
Eiríkur stumbled slightly as Lovino finally stopped, and the Italian let go of his arm. "Let me introduce you to all these bastards and beautiful ladies."
"Uh, Lovino, I already know-"
"Don't care, bastard."
The model sighed.
"You already know these bastards," Lovino pointed to Yong Soo and Jamie. "And then you got this cheap bastard-" the finger turned accusingly towards a lethargic man sleeping on the table. "The obnoxious bastard," Sadık winked at Eiríkur and bowed. "The bastard who hasn't been that bastardly but just wait," Gupta seemed confused for a moment as he pointed at himself. "Yeah, you bastard." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Then you got the IKEA bastard," Berwald nodded. The Icelandic teen wondered about that nickname for a moment. "The snarky bastard," Lukas raised his eyebrows. "And the two beautiful ladies, Katyusha and Elizabeta."
"Why do they get to be called their names but we're all varying degrees of bastard?" Sadık wondered.
Lovino glared at him. "Because you're all bastards. Weren't you listening? They're pretty, wonderful ladies. And you're bastards."
"Is bastard the only insult you know, da-ze?"
"Of course not, it's just the most effective, bastard."
"Bastard, bastard, bastard," Jamie muttered under his breath, making Eiríkur snort, which he quickly turned into a cough as Lovino glared at him.
"So..." Elizabeta broke the small silence that covered the large group after Lovino introduced them all. "Have any of you seen the magazine yet?"
The white haired teen looked around and saw that everyone else was shaking their heads.
"No. I hope the pictures turned out alright, though." Gupta sighed.
Berwald added in, "One of th' ed'tors sa'd that 't was one of th' b'st shoots th'y h'd."
Elizabeta smiled and clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful to hear! How is your husband doing also, Berwald?"
Husband? Eiríkur turned his head to the side curiously, as he tried to hear the rest of the conversation before Yong Soo dragged him away.
"M' w'fes doin' w'll, th'nk y'u." Berwald nodded.
Elizabeta smiled, but Eiríkur didn't get to hear her reply as he was pushed over to the drinks table.
"Drink?" Jamie handed him one of the fruity drinks.
Eiríkur looked down at the drink, which he believed was a cocktail, and narrowed his eyes. "Doesn't this have alcohol?"
Jamie looked offended. "What kind of person would I be if I let my underage friend drink?"
"A good one, da-ze?" Yong Soo interrupted them.
Before Jamie or Eiríkur could comment- Eiríkur was positive that Jamie had a few choice words to say to Yong Soo- Germania stepped up on a makeshift stage at the end of the room and was calling for everyone's attention, tapping his glass. "Excuse me?" most of the murmuring died down as everyone turned towards the blond haired man. "May I have everyone's attention?"
It was completely silent as he cleared his throat. Eiríkur looked around and saw that many of the other models had clung to the walls, like his group had done. All the pushy executives stood proudly in the center, and they were Germania's prime target.
"I would first like to thank first Bonbeau, who made this magazine entirely possible. I would like to thank the board of directors and all of you who donated money to our wonderful cause."
"...I'm not sure how to react to that." Jamie whispered from next to the Icelander. "'Cause'?"
"Thirdly," Germania continued. "I would like to thank all of our models; Sadık Adnan, Lukas Bondevik, Katyusha Braginskaya, Gupta Hassan, Elizabeta Héderváry, Yong Soo Im,"
Yong Soo sighed. "I hate it when they say it that way," he whined.
"-Hercules Karpusi, James Kirkland, Berwald Oxenstierna, Eiríkur Steilsson, and Lovino Vargas."
There was polite clapping from the audience, but that quickly died down.
"Now-"
Eiríkur ignored the rest, instead sipping his 'non-alcoholic' (he wouldn't believe Jamie, but hey, it was a drink and he couldn't see anything else, so cocktail it is) drink as he looked around at the people in the audience, seeing if he could recognize any of them. He could see Michelle mingling in the crowd (how she got in he'd never know), but otherwise they were all complete strangers.
Clapping startled him from his reverie, and he hurriedly set down his drink to clap with them. The long speeches were finally over, he noticed, and Lovino had come back from pushing towards the stage and proudly held out one of the new magazines.
"Here, bastards."
Yong Soo eagerly reached towards it, but Jamie calmly plucked it out of Lovino's hands and started leafing through it, not glancing at the cover. He stopped on one of the first pages and looked down at the photo.
"Hey, that's actually pretty good." Eiríkur looked over his shoulder to glance at the picture. It was of the four of them on the bar. Very dramatic and clearly modelled the watches and gloves, he noticed.
They surfed through the rest of the pages, and the Icelandic teen was very happy to see that his photos with Lukas weren't in it. He sighed when Jamie turned it over on the back, before handing it with the cover down towards Elizabeta, who had come bustling up a little earlier and was begging to see it.
"Ho- Oh!"
The quartet blinked as a surprised and gleeful look came over Elizabeta's face.
"Oh."
Please don't be the picture please don't be the picture why would they put it on the cover please don't be the picture-
Elizabeta smiled coyly at Eiríkur. "So these were the photos." she showed the others the picture.
The Icelandic teen's face turned bright red. There was him, sitting on Lukas's lap, the two of them looking like they were about to go at it there and then from the angle.
Yong Soo let out a whistle. "Wow, da-ze."
Lovino had an evil look on his face. "So this is why you didn't want to tell us."
Jamie just had his eyebrows raised.
Eiríkur buried his face in his hands and groaned, hoping they and his bangs covered his bright red face. "I can never show my face in public ever again. I'll have to move to Antarctica to maintain my dignity."
"What dignity?" Sadık asked from behind the Icelandic teen. "You have none. Now, what are these photos Eliza is squealing about-?"
I'm doomed. Eiríkur thought, as he stared at the Turkish man's slowly growing redder and redder face. Was my dignity worth the paycheck?
"Wh't's g'ing on?" Berwald and Lukas came over from their corner to see the commotion that was happening in the other.
Eiríkur groaned and buried his face even more into his hands. Rest in peace Lukas. Rest in peace.
"You!" Sadık exploded, pointing a finger at the stoic man, who just raised an eyebrow in response. "What are you doing ruining my little Icey's chastity!?"
Eiríkur hid behind Jamie, who patted him on the head in condolences. The teen wished to be anywhere but there.
"I do not remember ever having sex with him, so rest be assured that Eiríkur is still pure."
Eiríkur whimpered as his pride vanished before his eyes.
"But why are you two like this then, huh?" Sadık exploded, still as angry as ever.
"Because Steilsson was pushed into my lap and Germania liked it so he made us do those positions. I am not a pedophile."
"Goddammit, why are you so calm about this?"
Lukas looked amused at this question. "I was not notified that this was an issue."
"You're making it worse..." Eiríkur muttered under his breath.
Sadık's tan face had a bit of pink shining through, showing that he was getting really passionate about this subject.
"D-"
"Now, now, what is all this commotion?" Michelle shimmied into the conversation.
That's it. That is the nail in the coffin. I'm never going to live this down.
"Look at this picture!" Sadık threw the magazine practically in Michelle's face. "Look at what that fiend and Icey are doing!"
"I take offence to that..." Lukas murmured.
Michelle blinked as she studied the picture, before grinning coyly. "Oh~? Eiríkur, what have you not been telling me~?"
"I'm moving to Antarctica." Eiríkur muttered to Jamie under his breath as he still remained behind him. "With whatever is left of my dignity. Please don't tell them where I'm living."
"Not much then, and don't worry, I won't. I'll bring you snacks every once in a while, too." Jamie snorted.
"I'd appreciate it." the teen said, looking terrified as Michelle and Elizabeta came towards him with frightening looks on their faces, and Sadık was still trying to pin his 'loss of chastity' and 'my poor little Icey's scarred for life' on Lukas.
*Gospel music plays in the background as the author breaks down crying*
So many months this has taken. So. So. So many. It's been a long journey and this is my longest piece ever and I am ridiculously proud of it (even though it might not be my best). I'm happy to contribute this to my OTP! *hearts*
This is going to be a two shot so look out for the next chapter sometime in like November or something (this took me about 5 months guys) and otherwise please enjoy it because it's my baby. Also, this was taking all my time so expect more updates for Gott Vona! ^^
I would sincerely like to thank my betas: percychased and Anrheithwyr for doing the first four thousand words, give or take, and my darling uncontained hybrid or whatever she's going as now a day (love you) for doing everything else. I couldn't have done it without y'all. Also, thank you friends who tried but couldn't succeed. R.I.P.
I do not own Hetalia, I only own this ridiculous plot line that I'm now fairly embarrassed about.