"So, what the hell is going on?" Johnny demanded as soon as Oliver stepped into the grand hotel room, wearing clothes a little bit more fitting for the young heir.
Oliver shook his head sadly and walked over to the couch, automatically sitting in Enrique's lap. "I don't know…" He muttered, leaning his head against Enrique's shoulder and somewhat burying his face into the Italian's neck. "All I know is that my house is no longer my house."
"What do you mean?" Johnny asked, vaulting the back of the couch somewhat gracefully and bouncing a little when he sat on the pillows. Robert took the more formal way of sitting down; sitting down by the means of bending your legs.
"Those men have taken over it." Oliver replied with a small sigh. "So we have to stay here until they're booted out."
"Oh joy…" Johnny remarked rather sarcastically.
"What about your dad, Oli?" Enrique asked.
"He was at the restaurant; where else?" There was a bitter tone to Oliver's voice and all three other occupants heard it clearly; eyebrows were raised, though the French boy couldn't see them, his vision blocked because of Enrique's neck. "Sorry." He sighed.
"No need to apologise, Oliver." Robert replied. "All of this has made us all rather stressed and you bear the full load of it, unfortunately."
"Yeah, but we'll be here to help, right guys?" Enrique said.
"Sure." Johnny agreed, Robert nodding.
"Thank you." The bitter tone had gone completely and the three Majestics could hear a rather happy tone now. "Some reunion, huh?"
"Yeah, it was a blast. We should do it again sometime." Johnny laughed.
"Are you ever never sarcastic?" Enrique asked, still holding Oliver on his lap.
"Who said I was being sarcastic, Giancarlo?" Johnny smirked. "But seriously, Oliver, no one's gunna get to you while we're here."
"You make it sound like a sappy soap opera…" Oliver mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. "But thank you again…" He sighed and stood up, walking over to a white door. "I'm going to bed. And Johnny? No more locking Enrique in my room." With that, he was gone.
"I knew it…" Robert whispered under his breath and watched Enrique stand as well.
"Hell, same." Enrique said, walking to the door next to Oliver's and, after muttering a "G'night…", disappeared into the room.
"Looks like someone owes me five hundred Euros."
"Oh Piddlesworth!" Johnny cursed.
Purple eyes opened blearily, blinking and trying to gain their bearings. Sitting up and brushing stray bangs of green hair away from his eyes, Oliver yawned, stretching his arms out and hearing them pop; his back too. He sat there, legs half crossed in front of him and arms placed over the covers lazily as he stared out the open window. The slightly transparent, white curtains flapped around in the calm breeze that fluttered through the large window. Outside, birds twittered and flew about and the Parisian people were going about their daily regimes like normal.
Oliver rubbed his eyes once more, yawned again and was just deciding what he was going to try to do today when he spotted a brown paper bag perched expertly at the end of his bed.
He frowned as he crawled up to it, grabbed it and sat back, kneeling with the paper bag in his hands. He looked in and brought out the first object; a long, blue and white jacket. Not like his old one, though. This one was mostly white, but the shoulders, collar and along the top half of the arms were blue. He picked out a blue beret; an orange rimmed yellow t-shirt; a brown belt; red fingerless gloves and orange pants.
He frowned, looking at them as they lay on the bed. He wondered where they had come from until he saw a little note tucked into the pocket of the jacket, poking out just far enough for him to see. He tugged it out:
Dear Master Oliver,
I thought you might like some proper clothing. Since we can't get back your old clothing, I brought you some new clothes. I hope you like them; your friends have some new clothes too. Don't want you all running around wearing dirty clothing, now, do we?
Signed
Pierre
Oliver smiled and folded up the small note. He had always trusted his butler. The now-elderly man had technically raised the French boy; his mother died due to post-natal depression and his father was always at the restaurant. That's another reason why he hated that place; if his father had spent more time at home instead of the restaurant, his mother just might still be alive…
'Oh well, I can't dwell on the past…' he thought with a sigh.
He climbed off the bed and headed to the small washroom, carrying his clothes neatly in a pile…
He emerged half an hour later, clean and clothed. His looked down at his clothing and smiled; he quite liked it. And that wasn't all that had changed.
He had changed his hair too. By snipping his fringe slightly and brushing it downwards, rather than to the side, it suited the clothing he wore now. He walked over to the open window and leant against the 'sill, gazing out over the downtown district of Paris. It wasn't as luxurious as the uptown district (hence that's why Oliver lived uptown) but it was still quite pretty.
He looked over at the clock later on, to find it just after ten; he had been staring out the window for fifteen minutes! Oh well… he sighed and pushed himself of the edge of the window, wandering over to the door. Opening it, he found a sight he never thought he'd see.
Both Johnny and Robert were still in the main room, but that wasn't the strange, almost cute, sight. Robert was still sitting up, yet asleep and Johnny was lying on his side, head in Robert's lap as they both slept peacefully. Oliver felt like "Awww!" ing and giggling like a crazed schoolgirl, but he didn't. He just stood there, shaking his head sadly and staking in the scene before him… planning his teasing on the hot head.
But a few minutes later, Enrique's door opened and he started to walk out mumbling about something. Oliver cursed under his breath and ran to the blonde's door, shoved him back in, ran in himself, shut the door and held a gloved hand over Enrique's mouth.
Enrique gave him a look that said, 'Listen-if-you-wanted-to-jump-me-you-only-had-to-ask' but Oliver shushed him and pointed at the door to the main room. Enrique frowned confusedly but nodded; Oliver took away his hand.
"What's going on?" He asked.
Oliver smirked. "Take a look for yourself. Just don't make a sound."
He opened the door a crack and both teens peeked out. Enrique's eyes widened and he went to open his mouth, but Oliver shoved him back in the room again, covering his mouth once more.
"I thought I told you not to make a sound!" He whispered.
"I didn't!" Enrique mumbled around Oliver's palm.
"We can't wake them." Oliver said taking his hand away; he smiled as Enrique raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, admit it. They do look like a cute couple."
"Robert and Johnny-boy?" Enrique scoffed; he giggled quietly.
Oliver frowned and turned his back on the snickering blonde. "Fine. I guess that means no hugs from me to you then."
Enrique stopped immediately. "Oh come on, Oli! I was only joking." He smirked evilly. "Fine, but…" He spun Oliver around, "… you didn't say anything about kisses."
He pulled the French boy even closer, placing his lips over Oliver's swiftly. He heard the younger moan and he smirked against cherry-tasting lips, while wrapping his arms around Oliver's waist. He pulled away slowly, letting the kiss linger, and pressed his forehead against Oliver's.
"Nice…" He murmured.
Oliver smiled. "What's nice? The kiss or my new look?"
Enrique smiled too. "Both." He replied, his voice almost a whisper. His ran his fingers up the back of Oliver's neck and up into his hair, under his beret. "I like it… suits you even better than your old clothes…"
Oliver chuckled. "Seen your clothes yet?"
"Clothes?" Enrique was confused. "I got clothes too?"
"Yes. Pierre brought us all new clothes since we can't go back to my manor and get your own back."
"That was nice of him." Enrique commented. "So the two snuggle-buddies out there have new threads too?"
"Yes, I think so. It would be unfair if only you and I got new clothes and not them."
"I suppose." Enrique said, letting go of Oliver and walking over to a chair by the window, where a brown paper bag was sat.
Oliver pouted slightly when the Italian let go, taking away his warmth and scent that radiated off him. He watched Enrique wander off into the bathroom and the French boy sighed, walking out himself and into the main room. Johnny and Robert were still asleep and still in their positions.
"Wake up sleepy-heads." Oliver said as he walked past them, not stopping, on his way to the kitchen; though he did hear both wake with a start.
He smirked as he caught sight of the two blushing boys but carried on his way. He could just order breakfast for everyone, but he liked to cook; also, there was no knowing what was put into meals these days. He was rummaging through the cupboards when Johnny walked into the small kitchen and sat at the small table.
"Mornin' Oli…" He muttered, still a little red in the face.
"Bon matin, mon ami." Oliver replied as he placed slices of bread on the oven grill and slid it in. He turned round. "And do not worry; I won't speak of word of your sleeping arrangements last night."
Johnny's cheeks and bridge of his nose took a rosy tint. "So…er… new clothes, eh? And your hair; nice."
"Thank you, Johnny." Oliver said, turning round.
"Where'd you get them?"
"Pierre got them." Oliver said, cracking eggs over a saucepan. "He also got clothes for you, Robert and Enrique. Saves you from walking around in smelly garments."
"Oh, gee, that was nice of him."
"That's what Enrique said."
Johnny smirked evilly. "So, seen him this morning, have you?"
"What if I have?" Oliver said, looking at Johnny in the corner of his eye, his back turned to the Scottish boy. "And don't even try to make me embarrassed this way, Salaud-garçon," Johnny opened his mouth to protest about his now re-instated nickname, but Oliver carried on, "at least I admit to being in a relationship with a boy."
"Yeah, but you look like a girl, so there's no argument, is there?" Johnny muttered under his breath.
A vein pulsed in Oliver's brow. "Johnny?" He asked in a sweet voice.
"Yeah?"
"Shut your pie-hole unless you want boiling hot animal fat poured over your head." The green-haired boy turned around, eyes glinting. "Make one more comment about me looking feminine and that will happen, got it?"
"Got it."
"Right, now go change and freshen up."
"Yes…" Johnny sighed. "Mother Hen." He muttered when he got out of an earshot of the cooking expert.
A/N- Big note: I will not be able to update for at least a week. Reason? No, not writers block. I'm going on an exchange to Germany for a week. And no, I probably won't see Robert, though it would be nice… but I'm really sorry. I will hope to write a few chapters while there, but I'll then have to type them up and post them when I get back. Once again, sorry!
Anyway, that is my way of explaining how the Majestics got their cool new Grev threads. I don't know the full extent of Oli and Enri's clothing (only the top half) because of two reasons: 1) they don't appear that much in Grev, 2) I watch the dubbed version, therefore i have only seen, like, a second-long clip of the two boys... /grumbles about dubbers/
Anywho, review!
P.S- if anyone wants to do some fanart for this fic, you're welcome to. Just send it to mah email address (look in mah profile) with your username and description. I can then post it on Deviantart and say it was done as a gift by you. Thankies!