Rivalry
Part 16
"Look at them over there…stupid creepy red-eyed freak… I bet he's just trying to act all fancy 'cause he's trying to get into Iggy's pants."
France couldn't remember the last time he'd been so amused. "Shouldn't you give him the benefit of the doubt, mon ami? Even if he has told me multiple times that England's the best fuck he's ever had…" Pause for dramatic effect, "Especially when tied up…" And watch the fireworks. For a moment, America didn't respond, unless you counted the red that immediately overtook his face as a response. Then he started to move to stand up, his expression absolutely furious.
Unfortunately for France's amusement and America's revenge, he was interrupted by the same waitress from earlier, as she stepped over to the table with a tray of meals. "Bon appetit, asshole."
France stared down at his meal for a moment, then glanced toward America's and Canada's—Canada hadn't even bothered to attempt an order so he'd just ordered another one. Not that his poor little ex-colony looked as if he'd be enjoying it anytime soon.
"This isn't what we ord—"
"Accident in the kitchen. Explosion. Only thing not destroyed was the Fettucine Alfredo." And she was immediately gone, crossing toward England and Prussia's table and setting their plates in front of them, just pausing long enough to give them the same story before heading toward Spain's table.
France eyed the plate for a moment, but then shrugged before picking up his fork. Too bad she'd interrupted. He wanted to see America make a scene.
He'd relaxed somewhat, apparently still possessing enough control to realize that beating someone to a bloody pulp in the middle of a restaurant would probably not be a good idea. Still, the looks he kept flashing Prussia were quite plainly expressing his anger.
France grinned and then slowly slipped his cell phone from his pocket and texted under the table to Spain: €20 America's up in 10 mins.
The response was quick: 5 ;D
France grinned and watched them again. Prussia actually looked like he was enjoying this… And soon he'd be putting the next part of their plan into effect.
~.~.~
"And then, Francis completely flips out. 'My face! My beautiful face!' Or at least, I figure that's what he was saying. He's going off in French about it. Honestly, you'd have thought I'd permanently disfigured him or something." Prussia smirked and leaned back in his seat, watching as England laughed.
Telling embarrassing stories about France had been an awesome plan, if he did say so himself.
"And then what?"
Prussia frowned, attempting to remember. "Then Tonio and I laughed at him and he got mad and stomped out." He shrugged. "Nothing much else…except that I remember he walked into a door when he tried to leave. Although that might have been Tonio." He shrugged. "We were all pretty sloshed by that point…"
England shook his head before pouring himself another glass of wine. "You three are idiots." There were a few moments of silence after that remark, as he swallowed most of the glass in one gulp. Then he set it down and leaned forward conspiratorially. "I'll tell you something, Gilbert. Something I've never told someone before, okay?"
"Hm?" Prussia glanced up from the meal that he was rather positive he hadn't ordered, but which tasted absolutely delicious. And rather familiar… "What?"
England leaned closer at the remark, his eyes shining in a mixture of amusement and intoxication. "Alfred, that idiot over there? Who's with that fucking frog?"
"Yeah?"
And then he grinned, his expression one that instantly reminded the Prussian of their younger days, when this 'gentleman' had been out pillaging the seven seas, defeating Spain's armada, and generally making a complete nuisance of himself. It instantly sparked his own familiar fire, his back straightening as he sat upright and leaned forward.
And then England laughed. "Simple. I'm completely and utterly in love with that idiot. And there's no fucking way I'm giving him up to that fucking frog."
Then he was back in his seat, Prussia's wine glass held between his fingers. He took a sip, vaguely watching the human occupants of another table argue with the waitress over their orders. Interestingly, she finally seemed to get frustrated, picked one of the plates up, and dumped the entire dish of pasta over the man's head before stomping back toward the kitchen.
Well, somebody was getting fired tonight.
Prussia, meanwhile, was trying to come to grips with what he'd just said. England…wasn't completely oblivious about his feelings toward America?
Wait a minute…
Did that mean he'd gotten dressed up like this for nothing? Fuck, France was going to pay for this.
"Well, then why don't you do something?" He leaned forward, trying to catch England's attention again. "Go over there and beat France to a pulp for trying to steal America from you." And in the meantime, get revenge on him for making me wear a suit and tie.
England snorted and took another sip of Prussia's wine. "I'm not going to go over there and strangle the idiot while I'm in the middle of a five-star restaurant. After I'm out of here, possibly."
Prussia wanted to whine at that… But he wanted to watch France get beat up…
"Well, then, if you're in love with him, then why don't you fucking invade his vital regions or something, Artie?"
England sighed. "Obviously, since he doesn't feel the same way, that isn't an option. And don't ask what liking me back has to do with anything, since I'm well aware that things don't work like that in your world."
Well, apparently, since his world was awesome and not sissy like England's…
And damn, this was good pasta.
There were another few moments of silence and then Prussia finally sighed. "You know, I don't think it's entirely impossible that your sissy little ex-colony could like you back. He keeps looking over here, after all."
England frowned, glancing in America's direction before his gaze returned to Prussia. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm thinking that it might be possible that America is jealous."
"Of what?"
Okay, he was officially almost as clueless as Spain on a good day. "Of you! Or me…for being with you…"
England snorted, obviously not believing him. "Really…?"
"Hey, there's only one way to prove if I'm right or not." He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his (actually, Germany's, but close enough) wallet and flipping through it, before pulling out a wad of bills. "How about fifty euros says that I can get America to kiss you by the end of the date?"
England's eyes widened in surprise and he eyed the bills, obviously startled by the sudden remark. Then he suddenly smirked. "I'd think you would have learned your lesson about betting by now, Gilbert… Fine, you're on."
"After all," Prussia replied, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder toward France's table, "Either way, you win."
A/N: These guys really like to bet, eh?
Eh, other than that… Hopefully this chapter is okay, I've been sick like the past few days so I'm hoping my writing didn't suddenly die. Being sick in a foreign country is even worse than being sick at home, icky. :(
Thanks everyone for your advice regarding the next story. After thinking about it for a while, I decided that I'll finish Rivalry first while working on Tomatita as it comes to me… I'll also try to get at least the first 3 or so chapters of this other Spamano story written up but not posted. Then, once Rivalry is finished, I can start on the PruCan one while posting the Spamano one at a previously decided upon rate, at least until I finish Tomatita. That way I can keep the updates as frequent as possible ;D Since I'm already obsessive enough about updating that I already post faster than most people, according to some of you… Umm, hopefully that paragraph made sense xD