Elegantly Stated
A series of pointless Majestics-centric one-shots written in alternating POVs.
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Chapter One: Debate
POV: Johnny
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It's funny how some people have such high expectations for us.
They think that every spare second we have is spent discussing the latest European politics, boasting of our impressive lineages (okay, so Robert does do that kinda often...), and dissing the bourgeoisie.
We're teenage boys, for crying out loud. Not old bald men in stuffy suits and ugly ties. (Those would be our butlers.) We - believe it or not - like to have fun. But one of the ways we like to amuse ourselves, I admit, is a little... odd.
We wonder about Oliver's sexual orientation.
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I'm not sure how it started. It was probably on one of those days when we were waiting, our stomachs growling, while Oliver was in the kitchen of Jurgen castle cooking up some amazing and unnecessary feast. But somehow, over time, it's become our little game, one that picks up whenever Oliver is out of earshot and the rest of us are bored.
"Look," I start out of nowhere. "Even the way he walks is queer."
We're sitting in an expensive cafe in Paris, and Oliver has just been called to the kitchen by a frantic chef who asked for the kid's 'expertise.' Robert and Enrique follow my gaze and watch Oliver's fluent and graceful steps as he disappears through a set of swinging doors.
"So his gait is a bit effeminate. What else is new?" Enrique asks, smothering a yawn that I'm sure is fake.
"He drives his bloody blimp all the way to Rome to visit you!" I say, exasperated. "And he almost always interrupts your little dates. Obviously, he's jealous."
Enrique looks thoughtful. That's a rare sight. "He does go out of his way to talk to me sometimes.. but he IS my best friend. And hey, what can I say? The ladies love me. It's hard NOT to catch me on a date."
I roll my eyes. That pig-headed idiot...
"I still believe that you're jumping to conclusions, Johnny, as is your customary habit," Robert chimes in, a cup of tea in his hands.
"Oh, don't give me that bull again. He's gay and you know it," I push. "I mean, look at the evidence! He cooks, he practically lives in museums, he does that flower thingy when he launches his pink beyblade, and now he's hitting on Enrique. He's the LIVING EMBODIMENT OF THE GAY STEREOTYPE!"
Needless to say, I am a hardcore supporter of the Oliver-is-Obviously-Gay-Theory. Jumping to conclusions? Me? Pah!
"Who says stereotypes are accurate?" Robert bristles. Some poor dummy actually tried to pull the whole Germans equal Nazis thing on Rob once, and I guess he never got over it. I ignore him and continue.
"Also, he's disgustingly feminine, small-framed, soft-skinned, and-"
"Attractive?"
"Yeah, and-"
I stop, mid-sentence, realizing my blunder. Enrique and Robert slap their hands in a high-five. Robert has this messed up grin on his face- probably from holding in a huge degrading laugh. I glare at them, thinking of brutal ways to wipe that smirk off of Tornatore's face...
They're still snickering at me when Oliver comes back.
"Pas de quoi, " he's saying over his shoulder to an apron-garbed man who looks ready to worship our teammate. He then tucks a strand of green hair behind his ear - 'girly!' my head shouts - and sits back down to join us. I see a few guys over at that other table checking him out. They probably think he's a girl.
"So, what did I miss?" he asks.
"Nothing," we nonchalantly say in unison, and life goes on.
But the next time he's gone, I have something else to say.
"What if Oliver's a girl?"
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Notes:
First- Um. Wow. I wrote in first person AND in present tense. That was odd. Let's see if I can keep it up.
Second - I do not necessarily agree with Johnny's views. So if you disagreed with him, I probably agreed with you. :)
Third - Review please!
-Lyrikkal