A/N: YEH BOI!!! Y'just can't get enough of this story can ya? Here's the side story for ya'll!!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And due to some restriction, readers may not get full satisfaction from this fic. To see the uncensored version, see my profile page.
A Carnation Conspiracy? (A My Porcelain Doll Side Story)
OneShotEnrique was lying listless on his bed. He was bursting and had difficulty walking. For the past few weeks he had been dropping quite obvious hints on Oliver, but the boy was either too stupid or provocative.
The blonde's goal was simple…he wanted his boyfriend in bed.
Johnny knew of Enrique's problem, not that the Scott was very helpful. Nevertheless, the fiery redhead kept his mouth shut and provided the Italian a confidant.
He and Robert were currently absent by the way. After the couple's…((ahem ahem))…extended complaining, they were called again by the BBA Regulatory Board for a meeting. (It was strictly a business trip this time, I swear.)
Anyway, at present, Oliver and Enrique weren't speaking to each other. The naïve blue-eyed blonde had grown embarrassed after what he did to the grass-haired chef, who, in turn, was weirded out.
What happened was this…
FLASHBACK
Enrique waltzed into Oliver's restaurant, hoping to convince the Frenchman to get under the sheets with him. They greeted each other and shared a chaste kiss. To entice the other boy through their bond, the feisty Italian tried to pick a tongue fight. The greenette was strongly tempted to melt, but by some miraculous force, he pulled away.
"Bonjour Enri! What'll you have today?" he asked cheerily.
"Oysters…" Enrique smiled deviously.
The chef raised an eyebrow. "Corny Giancarlo…very corny…" Oliver said but was blushing all the same. "The usual?" he asked.
The elder teen nodded then sighed in defeat as the French boy disappeared into the kitchen.
While waiting, Enrique found himself idly doodling on his napkin. Well technically he wasn't doodling…he was drafting a horny question to leave on the napkin for Oliver to find. It was a plan with numerous hazards and loopholes but he was getting desperate.
At that moment, Johnny came in. Either he was spying on the blonde or wanting to loan something from the greenette…Enrique never knew.
He saw him anyway and waved frantically to him. The bastard Scott made a show of looking about for something then seeing him and waving back.
The Italian rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his fruitless endeavors.
"Good morrow, young poppycock! What labors burden thee?" asked a generally annoying voice.
"Hello Johnny…" Enrique replied to the said person who sat beside him. "Could you help me with something?" he asked, pushing the inked napkin toward the elder Majestic.
"Oliver?" Johnny asked and nodded when the blonde affirmed.
After a few moments of 'thinking', the redhead smirked evilly.
"Give this…" he said, taking a clean napkin and scribbling on it. "…or rather, leave it…for Oliver."
The Scott pushed the folded bit of tissue and pen toward Enrique.
"My services are done…" he said and cleared up the younger boy's clutter before leaving quite hurriedly.
The Italian frowned after him and glanced at the message, but before he could read it, Oliver came it carrying his ordered torta al cioccolato.
"Bon appetit!" said the greenette.
Enrique nodded and gave him a fork so he could eat too. They dined for some minutes in silence before the blonde decided to make a move…not that it was a very big one.
"Hey Oli, are you going to do anything this week?"
Lavender eyes blinked at him. "No…this coming week's when Johnny and Robert are going back to the Regulatory Board, right?"
The Italian nodded again. "Are your parents coming home?"
The pro chef shook his head. "Well…maman might. You know how she loves to pop in unexpectedly."
"Si…you have a point…" Enrique replied. "But then I want to get you alone for the week…"
Oliver cocked his head to the side. "Why?"
The blonde shrugged. "Something…" he pushed the empty plate away and placed the vandalized tissue on top of it. "I'll pay you in another way." he added, hoping the message that Johnny wrote would do the work for him.
The Frenchman snorted. "All right…see you around, Enrique…" he bade goodbye seductively and whisked the plate away.
"Ciao…" the Italian replied in turn and left the restaurant. Then he did a double take to see his boyfriend's reaction through the window.
Oliver was reading the flimsy napkin with growing confusion and disgust. He looked at it appalled before throwing the paper towel violently in the trash bin.
Enrique was mortified. He fished out his cellphone and called up Johnny.
"What the HELL did you write on that napkin?!" he greeted when the Scott answered the phone.
"Why? What did he do?" the blonde noticed a smile in the elder's voice.
"He…er…read it then trashed it…"
There was a triumphant 'HAH!' from the other end of the line,
The Italian sighed. "What did you write McGreggor?"
"I quote…" Johnny began before snickering derisively. "'Are you a virgin?'"
END FLASHBACK
And so that was why Enrique was lying listless on his bed. He felt sickened by what he did and was prepared never to face his own lover again for the sake of his dignity. ((ang labo ulit…xD))
The cordless phone on Enrique's bedside table rang. Terrified summer blue eyes stared at it as a rabbit would warily do to a fox. It rang harmlessly for a few more moments before the boy gathered courage to answer it.
"Alo?"
"Enrique? Are you all right? I haven't heard from you for four days…"
Four days. That was how long Oliver and Enrique haven't spoken to each other.
"Er…sorry Oliver…I—"
"My answer is yes…"
The blonde blinked at the French boy's interruption. "What?"
"Yes, I'm still a virgin…"
Enrique was unable to speak for several minutes. If someone were with him that very moment, that person would have roasted because of the heat radiating off the Italian.
"That's nice to hear…" he managed to reply.
"So…" Oliver began awkwardly. "What about my virginity?"
The blonde chuckled. "Nothing life threatening…And hey, I still own you, right?"
"That's right…" the green-haired boy replied.
"I'll get to that…" Enrique answered. "I'm asking for just one more favor and my pay shall be worth all your trouble."
There was a pause on the other line as Oliver considered the offer. "I'll trust you with that. What is it?"
"Could you go to Venice tonight?" the Italian asked. "Go to the veranda of the sixth floor of Palazzi de Machiavelli. There's only one building in the vicinity and it overlooks the Grand Canal. At around eight in the evening, wait for a black gondola to sail by and…and that's it."
"That's it? his boyfriend asked, mildly incredulous.
The blonde thought for a moment to see if he had missed anything.
"Er…you'll receive further…instructions from there…"
"Hn…" he heard Oliver laugh. "This sounds like Inspector Parker shit…But I'll go. A tout a l'heure, mon amour."
"Ciao…" Enrique said with a smile and hung up.
From extremely sober to uber hyper, the blonde bounced out of his bedroom and almost slammed the door in Gustav's face.
"Oh! Master Enrique! You're finally out of your room! I—"
"Yeah, yeah…" the boy interrupted. "Listen, I want you to clear up my room and set it up as if papa were to screw mama senseless."
His butler blinked. "You got Oliver to agree?" he asked in a low tone.
Enrique looked about to check the third floor for any eavesdroppers.
"Well…" he, too, replied in a whisper. "He doesn't know…yet. But I swear I'll have him in bed tonight."
"Shall you eat?"
"Yes but not on the table."
Gustav smiled and nodded. "Leave it to me, young master." he affirmed in normal tones. "You may attend to other matters without giving this a thought."
The Italian teen grinned. "Thanks so much, Gustav!" he exclaimed and ran off to his beloved flower garden.
--
Oliver arrived at Venice at about a quarter past seven. It took him some another fifteen minutes to reach Palazzi de Machiavelli and follow other instructions his boyfriend had earlier stated.
Soon enough, it was ten minutes till the fatal hour and the French boy didn't have long to wait.
The greenette leaned out of the veranda and took in the slightly fishy, moderately fresh watery, predominantly oceanic Venetian air. The city was alive with lights, almost rivaling the starry sky. Hence, it wasn't that hard to spot a black gondola.
Oliver stared blankly into space. It was like ten minutes suddenly turned into ten hours. He sighed a bit, and shifted restlessly in his position. The pro chef waited for a few more moments before turning his back on the dark sky.
Just then, something white flew past his peripheral vision and landed with a slight squish on the cement. The greenette blinked before bending over and picking it up.
It was a beautiful white carnation with even more beautiful not-so-white sticky stuff coating it. The exotic smell of the thing made him go hard. His delicate fingers pinched off a sample and he examined it under the weak light of the sixth floor.
Oliver smiled and licked it as one would do to the icing on a cake. The taste was enough to drive him back to Rome in under half an hour.
"Where is he?!" the Parisian asked Gustav, who had answered the door.
"In his room, signor Les Desmond." the butler replied, hurriedly stepping aside to let him in.
"MERCI!" the grass-haired teen shouted over his shoulder, ascending the Grand Staircase three steps at a time.
"Enrique?!" he burst into the blonde's room, advancing toward him with a slight look of hunger on his face.
The Italian just smiled as Oliver ravished him with his frisky tongue.
END…details elsewhereA/N: if you want more, as I've said in the disclaimer, got to my profile page and you'll find the link…isn't this a big contrast to Passion Fruit where Oliver was uber SLOW and not frisky? ahaha… uhm, tell me what you think! And ask your questions to…enjoy!xD and ciAo…