So. This took a while. I keep getting distracted with different projects and stuff. Someone (a guest) gave me a lovely review and thanks to you for that. And sorry it took so long. Also, I think I'm getting the 2P!s characterisations wrong.
Oliver happily waited on his members to get to the room. They used the Home Economics classroom so they could use the ovens and stoves. The ingredients he brought with him, using his own money today – the club had used most of the money granted to them. He had very little members but at least they were loyal. Walking through the room, he laid out ingredients for a Black Forest Gateau. Once he had returned to the board, he began to write out the recipe.
As he was finishing up, a couple of people entered the room. He smiled at them and the blondes looked back at him blankly. The cigarette attracted a frown from Oliver. "I really wish you would stop bringing them in here, Jacques, dear," he told the Frenchman. The man shrugged and leaned against a unit, taking a final drag before stubbing it out in a nearby sink. "And you should take your sunglasses off, Melvin. That can't be very good for your eyes." Grumbling, the Canadian obliged. The entrance of another member distracted Oliver and, when he noticed Melvin wearing them later, he didn't try to repeat his request.
"Hello, Jack- Alfred! You came along this time?" He smiled at the two Americans. Jack rolled his eyes and moved off to stand beside Melvin.
"Yeah, Jack said I could get cake so I came along," The blonde grinned and glanced at the board. "But I need to make it, though, huh? Black Forest...?" The American glanced worriedly at Oliver. "That's not like Artie's scones, is it?"
With a shake of his head and a slight laugh, Oliver explained. "No, it's a type of cake. It comes from Germany and I thought it would be a good idea to make things from around the world. To attract more members..."
"Oh?" Alfred glanced around the room. "Isn't there more people?"
"Ah, no, this is it," said Oliver cheerfully. He had started up the club for personal reasons so didn't mind the lack of interest. Alas, it wasn't working too well and Oliver had been a little disappointed. However, he had forged ahead and now had three regular members. Hope for the expansion of the club had kindled within him and he was beginning to enjoy it.
"So what do we do?" asked Alfred, bringing Oliver out of his musings.
"Well, since we have enough people, why don't you pair up like you would do in class?" Thus ensued a few minutes of arguing while Jack and Melvin debated who should be paired with Alfred. Melvin won and Jack slouched over to where Alfred was waiting, a bemused expression on his face. "Now, just do as I do. Though, if you'd like to, the recipe is on the board so you can move ahead at your leisure." The Englishman picked up a bowl within which he had already placed butter and sugar and began to whisk it.
Almost immediately, something went wrong. Alfred had insisted on doing the whisking and, while Jack looked on with an irritated expression, the blonde was getting butter and sugar everywhere with the force he was using. Oliver hurried over in time to get a large dollop of butter in the face.
"Oh, sorry!" said Alfred with a laugh.
"You, er, seem to be having some problems, honey. Are you okay?" Oliver responded as he wiped the butter off on a nearby towel.
"Yeah," said Alfred. "Don't worry about me!" He grinned at the club's president and Oliver looked back at him with a worried expression.
"If you're sure..." he said, hesitantly and returned to the front desk, finishing off his whisking. He expertly cracked some eggs with one hand and began to beat them in. This time, his attention was attracted by the lack of effort Melvin and Jacques were putting into their cake. In fact, they hadn't even bothered to pick up their whisks. Instead they were holding unlit cigarettes, frowning at the board. Oliver hurried over. "What's wrong?" he asked them.
"Tch," said Jacques. "I do not see why we cannot make something French."
"And I don't understand why I'm still coming to this club," muttered Melvin. "I want to go home and sleep."
"Oh, come along, Melvin! There will be a cake at the end of your hard work. And, Jacques, we will make something French next week. Would profiteroles be good enough for you, dear?"
Jacques pulled a face, looking annoyed and yet placated at the same time. Oliver smiled and looked at Melvin. He still seemed rather grumpy but he begrudgingly took up the bowl and whisk and set to work. Relieved, Oliver went back to the front and finished beating in the eggs.
Then, since Alfred and Jack were having trouble folding in the flour and cocoa powder, Oliver showed them all how it was done. Soon, smiles spread around the room, even if they were only slight. Jack was hard pressed not to at least smile at Alfred's antics which covered their area in ingredients. Oliver, meanwhile, kept encouraging the other pair, Jacques and Melvin soon smiling ever so slightly at his well-earned praise.
Oliver was pleased. Even if he had been trying to catch Arthur's attention, it was definitely better to have fun with everyone. He knew that his ulterior motives meant that it wasn't a popular club but now he was determined to put more effort than he had been to make it much more magnificent.
In the darkness of this cave
Two jewels wink at me;
I am transfixed.
To stare is to lose them
And I must turn away.
But to turn away – is that to
Lose them, too?
How can I keep them?
Is it possible to take them
For my own?
Now, what can I write next...? thought Oliver, his pen to his mouth. He placed the tip back to the paper and began to write the next line.
"Oliver!" exclaimed the teacher. The Brit gasped and jerked, his hand scoring across his work in progress. He glanced at it miserably for a moment before looking up at the teacher guiltily. "Pay attention!"
"Sorry..." he mumbled. He shrank down a little as the class gazed at him. Once they had ascertained that nothing interesting was happening, they turned away. All bar one.
When the teacher's attention was diverted, Arthur leaned over to take a look. Oliver froze and stared at the board, trying to remember to breathe. His heart began to beat faster and he swallowed, daring to glance sideways. Arthur was frowning slightly at the words written there and Oliver prayed that he wouldn't work out what they meant...
"Hm," whispered Arthur. "Are the jewels supposed to be someone or a feature on some- Oh, eyes?"
"Ah! Uh! Yes!" squeaked Oliver. The teacher glanced over and Arthur pretended to correct something on Oliver's page. Lowering his voice, Oliver continued. "I can't believe you figured that out from this!"
"Well, it's pretty good, considering it's not finished," Arthur replied.
Feeling his face heat up, Oliver shook his head. "It-It's not that good... But thank you, anyway." He smiled shyly at the other Brit. Arthur's mouth twitched in a small smile before returning to his own work.
After the lesson, Arthur stopped him. "Oliver," he said, making the blue-eyed man's breath catch in his throat. "I must speak with you later about your club. It's very important so please come to my office after your classes."
"Oh, uh, really? Well, I'll definitely be there!" exclaimed Oliver, cheerily.
"I will see you later, then," said Arthur as he walked off. Oliver waved him off with a smile. He wandered off to the next class, wondering what Arthur could possibly need to talk to him about. Was it their budget? Was it about his ideas for getting more members? Was it about the bake sales he had talked to him about? Whatever it was, Oliver couldn't wait to see him and couldn't concentrate on anything for the rest of the day.
Finally the time came and Oliver parted with Jacques (who seemed to be rather relieved to be rid of the Brit) and he hurried off. He took a deep breath outside, calming himself. It wouldn't do to be talking about business only to choke up because he was hyperventilating. When he decided he had calmed himself enough, he pushed open the door and nervously entered the School Council President's office.
Arthur glanced up at Oliver and his heart skipped a beat. The other boy's bright green eyes were boring into him – he had never been looked at by him with such an intensity! In fact, he was pretty sure that Arthur ignored him as much as possible, usually. The interaction with the poem had been the longest one he could remember.
"Well, come in," said Arthur, beckoning the other forward. Oliver's heart started to hammer against his chest and he realised he was beginning to sweat. Trying to ignore this, he gulped and walked forward, a little shakily. "You can sit down," Arthur added once Oliver was standing beside a chair in front of the desk. Oliver immediately and obediently did so.
"Hi," he squeaked. He cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. "Well, er, what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked in a more normal voice.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news," said Arthur calmly, leaning his elbows on the desk. Oliver barely registered what he had said as he watched him lace his fingers together. His emerald eyes gazed into his own blue ones and he blinked so he wasn't caught staring.
"W-What do you mean? Bad news? What's wrong?"
"Your club is over budget. Because of how much you owe the council for ingredients and the hire of the classroom, we're going to have to shut you down."
Oliver gaped at the Student Council President across the desk. "W-What?! But-! But the bake sales! I-I told you about that! We just need a place to do them – that's free – and we can make up the money!"
"No, I'm sorry. This is an executive decision. There is already a gourmet club. And there are too many clubs – we don't have enough money for all of them. Our resources are spread thin. We will give you money for one more meeting if needed but then you will have to disband."
"No! Please!" exclaimed Oliver, tears blurring his vision. "I don't want-! Please! The club could become so much more! It's great for people who can't coo- Who aren't as good at cooking as others!"
Arthur surveyed him blankly over his hands. "You can't change my mind, Oliver. Disband your club."
Tears began to trickle down his cheeks and Oliver shook his head. When he managed to blink some away, he could see Arthur biting his lip. He briefly wondered why the president was looking so unsure. "Please..." he whispered desperately.
The other man shook his head. "I'm sorry but the decision is final."
At the next meeting, Oliver waited till his members (minus Alfred) gathered to announce the disbanding of the club. He was surprised to see the Nordics had turned up – all ten of them – as well as Francis. He smiled at them kindly. "It's so good to see new members! But... I'm afraid that I have some bad news."
"Bad news?" asked Jack with a frown. He had probably noticed Oliver's saddened expression.
"We've used too much of the student council's money. We're going to have to disband..." Oliver sat on a stool and sighed. "It's such a shame – I had such high hopes for the club. Well! Let's just make this the best last meeting! I've picked out quite a few French cakes and-"
"What the hell?!" Jack blurted out and a murmur spread round the room. Oliver looked up at him in surprise. He, Melvin and Jacques all looked irritated and the Nordics seemed confused. "Didn't you use your own money most of the time?! And you poured your heart into this stupid club – why the fuck are you giving up so easily?!"
"Well, there's not much I can do, Jack, my dear. And it is true that we spend more money than other clubs, even if I use my own personal savings as well." Oliver shrugged. "I can't change the council's decision." He glanced at Francis, wondering why a council member was present. Was he there to make sure he disbanded the club?
However, this theory was dashed when the Frenchman stepped forward, a serious expression on his face. "It was not the Council's decision, cher," he told Oliver.
"Hm?" asked Oliver, confused.
"It is true that the Council has the power to disband clubs which spend too much money but we generally leave them be. The only reason Arthur noticed your spending was... Well... He would have liked to have joined et I teased him about being unable to come to this. I am afraid that I made him quite angry – and he took it out on you. He is stubborn and will not correct his mistake."
"What kind of reason is that?!" snapped Melvin.
Jacques glared at Francis. "So this is your fault?"
"I would not say that exactly..." said Francis with a worried look, backing away from the advancing Jacques.
"So you're saying he would've found a reason to disband the club either way?" growled Jack, looking just as angry.
"Enough!" said Oliver. Everyone looked up at him. He looked rather upset, tears threatening to overflow. Jack sighed and made his way to the Brit, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "I don't understand..." Oliver muttered into Jack's shoulder. "Why would he want to get rid of this club?"
"Dunno," replied Jack, still sounding furious. "But you have to stop crying and do something about it!"
"I am not sure you can, chéri," said Francis, miserably. "He holds more power than he should. After all, he went over the Council's head to order the disbanding of the club..."
"That can't be right," said Melvin, glaring at no-one in particular.
"If the students knew what he was like, perhaps he would be stopped," suggested Jacques.
"How could we do that?" asked Jack as Oliver hugged him back miserably.
"I have already spoken with the Newspaper Club but they could not run the story without more evidence I cannot provide," explained Francis. "And I have protested his decision. Yet he-"
"'Protested'?" asked Oliver suddenly, pulling away from Jack as he gazed blearily at Francis. "Protested... Could we...? Is it allowed...? Francis, could we stage a protest?"
"A protest?"
"Oh, like picket lines and stuff?!" Jack piped up with a malicious grin.
"Exactly!" said Oliver. "Then the Newspaper Club would have to run the story!"
"It is definitely not prohibited in any rules I have read..." said Francis with a grin.
"Let the war begin, then," said Melvin.
Oliver, however, was already beginning to have doubts. Would something like this ruin his chances with Arthur? Did he even have a chance? But he couldn't let anyone know about his crush – being mocked would be unbearable. So he would have to take this idea he had had and run with it, whether it angered the other Brit or not...
Arthur's excuse is really flimsy at best.
Francis may or may not know why Arthur's being a douche.
Uh, I think this story's set up kind of sucks but, hey.
Also, the poem is crappy. Sorry.
I think that is all?
