A little fic based on the dear 2p!France (Fabien) and 2p!femEngland (Olivia) that I and my dear RP soulmate are. I hope you enjoy our take on these beautiful characters
Her parents were out till late; watching some stupid theatre performance with the money they didn't have for their daughter's home economics' ingredients this same week. My dad is far from a good parent, don't get me wrong, but at least he has the decency to leave me alone unless I piss him off. I wouldn't be surprised if they regret having Olivia, but I don't give a damn what they think; I don't regret her, she's the brightest, sweetest thing in this bleak world. Today is her seventeenth birthday and she's my girlfriend, which mostly explains why I'm breaking into her house.
Ollie lives in one of those upper-middle class areas in town, so I didn't worry about being caught – it was past 11, which was their unofficial time to sleep. Every private driveway had a stupidly expensive car or three. What's so damn good about German cars, anyway? I'm not really asking, I don't care. Besides, climbing a three-storey house was keeping my mind busy anyway. Vaulting the side-gate was easy, a 'piece of cake' as she'd say. If I distract myself with her little sayings one more time, I'm officially too crazy for that girl. Although if I'm trying to convince myself that I'm anything but crazy for Olivia Bennett, I'd be lying; there is nothing else on Earth that would make me dress up as a burglar and risk getting arrested, just to excite my lady.
She knows I'm coming over tonight, but assumes I'll use the front door as I usually do on one of our secret meetings, and that I surely wouldn't walk the half hour from the suburbs to her place, which is a fair assumption considering I have a motorbike that she's been a guest on many a time. If you're wondering, my ride is a Harley-Davidson Super Glide. I found her abandoned at the tip; well, I assume she was abandoned, but she's mine now. She was rusty and the suspension was fucked in the worst way imaginable but before long I had her on the road. It was only when Ollie said she wanted me to take her riding did I get her taken to a garage and given an M.O.T. A faulty bike is one thing, but a faulty bike with your girl riding with you is another. I fixed her well though, she passed the first time, and Olivia loves being taken home from school by us instead of catching a bus. She's too good for a bus, but I'll never tell her that.
Back to the task at hand, it felt like my arms were being wrenched out the sockets by the time I made it to the second floor and clambered in an open window and over family photos and priceless furniture. I badly wanted a cigarette but knew that would give me away; the French tobacco I smoke is quite rare and too strong for the English people; and of course, this is her day and I still am not sure whether she likes or dislikes the taste of cigarettes when we kiss. The thought of kissing her gave me new energy and my heart pumped that little bit faster beneath my cigarette pocket of the leather jacket. I pulled the balaclava on and tiptoed up the last flight of stairs that separated me from my girl. After a brief pause outside her room, I grinned behind the mask and slammed the door open.
Olivia was sitting on the cushioned window seat (the cushion cover was one of the many things she has made) and staring wistfully out the window, probably waiting for me. She had a cute 50s style dress on as always, but it seemed more expensive and formal than usual, fashion really isn't my thing, but she looked so fucking cute in pastel purple, it made her look like a little doll what with her tight pink curls, big beautiful eyes and little cherry red lips. Oh, and how she's barely 5ft 2. My little tiny doll.
At the door slam, her shoulders nearly met her ears it was such a large jump; she really was in her own world, and her big blue eyes widened with fear at the sight of this 'burglar' in her parents' house. Shrinking against the window, she turned again for one last scan outside and then, shaking, faced me again. There are always conflicting emotions inside me when I see her scared and helpless. A part of me wants to comfort her, show her it's just me and to kiss her better, but that's only a little part. The dominant part enjoys it, and I get such a thrill out of seeing her so frightened. Something stirred within my trousers when I walked up to her and she opened her mouth to scream, making me tug her away from the window and pin her against the wall with a hand over her mouth. I suddenly thought she must recognise me by my purple eyes that she so often gazes into; that would ruin everything! Fuck.
With a firm hand on her upper arm I tugged her across the room and slammed the light off, plunging the room into darkness. Ready to turn back to my hostage, I suddenly felt a sharp pain at my wrist as she bit me whilst simultaneously kicking at me, the 2-inch heel meeting my thigh and definitely destined to cause a bruise. My girl had quite the bite, and I released my grip only to be shoved with all her might, making me stumble a step, and before I knew it she'd run out the bedroom door. This was definitely not supposed to happen.
'Ollie, it's me!' I called after her, quickly following the sound of little heels tapping and of frightened gasping. It sounded like she was hyperventilating, my poor Olivia. Well, this was her fault, she wouldn't have told me about her 'stranger' kink if she didn't want me to act on it. She was in the kitchen, and I leisurely strolled in after her, smiling behind the balaclava, it's so sweet that the kitchen she loves so much is her chosen refuge.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Olivia, who could never harm a fly, let alone a man, ran at me with a kitchen knife in her hand, screaming as she did so. Luckily for me, she stopped short, unable to follow through, but held it out with a shaky arm, chest heaving as she swayed on her feet. I wasn't sure whether it was from fear or excitement.
'Go away!' She sobbed and waved it around, eyes tightly shut. I realised that unless I wanted to have to explain how I ended up in hospital with a stab wound, it was time to give in. I pulled the balaclava off and waited patiently for Ollie to open her eyes or stop waving the knife at me – hopefully both.
'Ollie.' I said snappily to get her attention when neither happened. 'It's me, you crazy bitch!'
'Oh, Fabien!' She swooned, and dropped the knife on the floor before running to me and hiding her face against my chest. 'That was so cruel! Fabien, you terrified me.'
'Zat was ze idea, Ollie,' I wove my fingers through her hair and used it to tilt her head back before kissing her. Her arms magnetically locked around my neck as she kissed me back, and I found myself having fun getting all the strawberry lip-gloss off. That stuff, besides tasting great, is surely the stickiest thing known to man, and it gets everywhere her mouth goes.
Once the kiss finished, I let her go briefly to put the knife away and then tucked the balaclava into my pocket.
'I zought I told you to wait in your bedroom.' I teased and pushed her out the kitchen to the stairs.
'Will you carry me?' She asks pleadingly from the bottom stair, and after pretending to consider it, I picked her up like in those Disney movies she likes so much, and we slowly walked back to her room. Even with that adorable little pudge, she's easy enough to carry. Back where I live in a house of bastards and a street of criminals, if you can't fight, you fall. My room's become my gym recently, though it's knee-high in packets and cans and bottles and cigarette stubs, so it's a good thing Olivia will never see it.
I dropped her on the bed and unzipped my jacket, a little roll of tissue paper fell out but I caught it before it hit the ground. Expensive thing. Already being pulled by my lady, I obligingly sat on her and waved the tissue in front of her eyes.
'For you, Ollie. 'appy birzday.' I couldn't help but smile as her face lit up and her fingers stopped gripping my vest to take the little present.
'I can't believe it, a present. Oh my wow, Fabien, you're perfect.' She murmured as she carefully opened it, trying to not tear the tissue paper. She's ridiculous like that but it's endearing, really. Eventually, out slid a silver chain. It should have two charms on, but I really, really haven't the patience or dexterity for putting the tiny things on the chain so they were packed apart. Ollie was looking at the plain chain like it was made of platinum or something.
'I love it. I love it so much! Thank you, Fabien, it's the best present of my entire life.' She hugged the chain against her cheek and smiled so widely, and then it wobbled and her long lashes fluttered as she looked to the ceiling, trying to not let tears ruin her makeup.
'Are you fucking crying over a-you haven't even seen the charms! For fuck's sake, Olivia.' I snatched the tissue paper from her and roughly shook it, relieved to see the charms land on Ollie's dress. Thankfully, she wasn't wearing one of the crazily patterned ones that conflicts with my ever-existent hangovers so they were easy to spot. One was a little fairy cake, her favourite thing to bake, and one was a little solid heart. The shopkeeper said it should refract light and it was pretty - her kind of thing. She squeaked with excitement and I got off her so she could sit up and fiddle around with the bracelet. I shook out my straggly blonde hair and kicked off my boots, and I'd just about got them off when I was attacked by Olivia who held her wrist up near my face, bracelet and charms jingling.
'It fits.' I said proudly. I'd had a stupidly long conversation with the shopkeeper over how Olivia's stature might relate to her wrist size but by a fucking miracle we'd got it right.
'You know, Fabien…' She purrs with her chin on my shoulder and her hands sneakily easing my t-shirt up, a leg draping itself over my lap. 'I have a present for you, too.' She giggles and I raise an interested eyebrow at her.
'Oh, do you?' I ask and she nods cutely, waiting for me to guess. 'Could it be somezing under zat terrible dress?' Her expression instantly became disappointed.
'Don't you like the dress? I thought you like purple.'
'Ollie…ma petite chaton. Je préfère que tu nu.' She moaned at the French and I twisted us so she fell back on the bed and I roughly yanked her skirts up, positioning my face between her legs. Yes indeed, she had bought some new sexy underwear for this occasion.
Even though my surprise failed dramatically, I can safely say Olivia had a fun birthday night.