Wow. I never thought you guys would like the previous chapter so much! XD Thank you for the very amusing reviews.
~o~o~o~
The first thing they went to was yet another impressive building: The Dome des Invalides. After a visit to the Musée de l'Armée, which gave more than half the class goose bumps, the shivers and the heebie-jeebies, they went to see Napoleon's burial site. There was a big hole in the floor where they could look down on the grave on the floor below. All around it were pillars and huge statues, which made the coffin itself look a bit small.
Once they were further down in the actual tomb, the coffin suddenly seemed a lot larger. The statues that surrounded the coffin suddenly were a lot more intimidating as well. This was the moment Arthur took out his phone to take a few pictures. Just a few. He quickly took them and was just about to put his phone away when Alfred found him again.
"Dude, why do you have a phone box on your phone?" He asked, pointing at the small blue pendant that hung on Arthur's mobile phone.
His boyfriend glanced at him over his shoulder. "It's the TARDIS."
"The wud?"
"Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Ugh, don't you watch Doctor Who?"
"Doctor what?"
"No, Who."
"Who?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Stop it." Arthur snapped. "Okay, that is one thing I have to teach you as soon as we get back home."
"You're a bit of a nerd, you know that?"
A grim and sadistic grin crawled onto Arthur's features. He put his phone away, turned around at Alfred with a friendly smile, but evil eyes. "Alfred, sweetheart. Let me tell you about the Weeping Angels." He said, chuckling beneath his breath and a dark shadow crawling over his poisonous green eyes.
Wondering around the place was Judithe. When she found her brother, she tapped him on the shoulder. "Abel? Do you know what's going on with Berwald? I'm a bit worried about him."
"Huh, what?"
"Well, I heard from Elizabetha that Felicja heard from Toris that Tino told Eduard they had a fight." She rattled.
Abel scratched behind his ear, trying to grasp the gossip-grid Judithe had just explained. "Okay, what?! I'm not a girl, so I don't get a fuck out of that. Say that again without the gossip-web in between."
Judithe sighed and huffed. "I heard Tino and Berwald had a fight, and the latter is being semi-suicidal."
"Ah, that's clear language. No. Haven't got the faintest. You Matty?"
"No, sorry."
She rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Very helpful." She walked away immediately.
"Okay then." Abel said. "That was weird."
"I thought Berwald usually walks away from fights and doesn't care."
"He's had a huge crush on Tino for a few years now, so this is a little different from 'usually'." Abel said, softer and quicker than usual.
"Oh. That's painful. Man, I feel sorry for him."
"Yeah, me too. But I'm not really an expert on 'love-troubles', as Judithe calls it, so there's nothing much I can do."
That's where Matthew saw a small gap. "So you've never had a girlfriend?"
Abel snorted. "No."
What was that chuckle for? It wasn't a strange question, and it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to ask if he had ever had a boyfriend. Come on. That would have been downright stupid.
"Something up, Matty?"
"Could you please stop calling me that? And there's nothing."
"Yes, there is something."
"No, nothing."
"Yes, there is."
He sighed. "Okay, fine. I thought it was a bit rude to laugh at a question I asked."
"Sorry, Matty. I just had a little inside-joke with myself."
"Suuure."
"It's nothing you want to know. Really." He ruffled Matthew's hair, earning a glare from behind a pair of glasses.
"What if I do want to-"
"Maaaatt!" Alfred shouted and clung to his brother's arm like a little monkey. Matthew didn't get to finish his sentence anymore. "Dude. All those statues could be alive! When you look away, they're very fast and they'll kill you and if you look into their eyes they'll get into your head and-"
Matthew couldn't get himself to speak. Alfred's rambling sounded like one long word and he couldn't make the slightest sense out of it. He didn't even know what was happening. "Al! What?" The urge to shout 'what the HELL are you on about?!' got bigger every second as Alfred rambled on.
"-and they can crawl out of pictures and into your head through your eye and kill you and-" A smack to the head by Abel brought him back to his senses a little.
Matthew really didn't have the slightest idea of what Alfred was rambling about, and it made no sense whatsoever. "Al, what the heck was that about?!"
That moment, he spotted Arthur behind them, sniggering sadistically. "I'm sorry, Matthew. I am afraid that's my fault. I let myself go a little with Doctor Who monsters."
"No more Doctor Who for you, Al." Matthew scolded, to which Arthur pouted.
"But I was only just getting started." He protested jokingly.
"Keep it to yourself, please, Arthur. I don't want to suffer from insomnia for six months again because of him waking up screaming at least five times a night."
"Okay, just for you, Matthew." Arthur promised before breaking Alfred off his brother's arm and dragging him along, patting his head and rubbing his shoulder. Of course Arthur himself was hardly able to hold back his laughter.
"He's enjoying this, that little sadist." Abel noticed.
"It was about time someone would come out and break Al's guts for once."
Abel stared at Matthew with big eyes for a moment. "And I thought you were cute."
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
La Défense, many quickly noticed, was especially a trip to please the few girls the class had. They all went shopping and left most of the guys behind. Although a few male classmates were as much titled shopaholics, their number was insignificant. Four to be exact.
Most guys opted for staying somewhere and relax with a good drink and some nice company.
They went back near the end of the day to have dinner in a French restaurant not too far away from the Eiffel Tower.
The place had a warm and welcoming atmosphere but seemed professional at the same time. Upon entering the building and being spotted, the owner, a man in his mid-fifties with black hair with silver streaks and a beard of at least two weeks, seemingly jumped from his spot behind the bar and rushed to Trouillefou with a broad smile and spread arms. "György! How long has it been?" He asked and embraced his old friend tightly.
A few students sniggered. György? That was his name? György?
Trouillefou now showed a completely different side of himself, which was quite scary. He seemed kind and warm-hearted and he was…smiling? "Too long. How have you been the last fifteen years?"
"Well, look around you, my friend. And what's with the bunch of kids?"
"I'm a teacher at an international school now."
"Just what you dreamt of when you were still a little squirt. So where's that school, in France?"
"No, Belgium. Brussels, to be exact."
"Oh, nice, nice. Hey, why don't you guys take a seat upstairs here and I'll give you a group discount and drinks and wine are on the house. How about that?"
And so, the students and teachers were seated on the second floor only minutes later. It was an open floor, so they were looking out over the other people in the restaurant down below. Quite a fun sight. The tables were set in small groups, with the biggest one in the middle. It was quite a large group too and with Romano, Alfred, Mathias and Gilbert as part of the company, it wasn't hard to figure out where the most Decibels would be produced.
Matthew had made a better choice not to join his brother and instead hang around his own friends. Tino, Carlos, Berwald and Abel were great company. That, and they had very amusing entertainment. At the large table behind them, a discussion was about to get started on food. Of course Francis insisted that the French cuisine was superior to anything, while Romano and Feliciano were both convinced their mother could beat any French chef any time when it came to cooking.
"What the hell are you eating?" Romano asked Francis, disapproval in his tone as usual.
"It's Ris de veau. Want to try some? It's really good." Francis responded.
"The fuck is that?"
"It's calf's pancreas." Antonio cleared up, to which Romano gave the same reaction as everyone else at the table.
"Aaaah! Fuck! That's fucking disgusting! How the hell can you eat that?!"
"Dude, ew!"
"Bäh! The hell, Fran?"
"Ah, lort. I'm gonna heave."
"What?!" Francis asked. "You don't need to shout. There's nothing wrong with this."
"There's something wrong with you for eating that!" Romano shouted.
That wasn't the only disagreement between the two. Francis insisted that French wine was the best in the world. And that was the start of a disaster.
"Yeah, right, fucker." Romano said. "French stuff is shit. Italian wines are the best."
"You wish. Nothing is better than Spanish wine."
"Oh, no. You are both wrong, my friends. We are in France right now, and this is the perfect opportunity to teach you how good French wine is." After looking at the card for a long time, he ordered a bottle for their table. Everyone got their glass filled. It was France, so trying wine was a part of cultural education.
The fact everyone at the table had decided to have a drink worried their classmates a little.
"Oh, crap." Carlos said.
"What is it?" Tino asked.
The Cuban pointed at the larger table. "Kiku and alcohol? I've heard some stories about that…"
"Yeah, he's a bad drinker, all right." Abel said. "Two swigs and he's out cold. Or worse."
"Gilbert isn't much better." Berwald added, but he seemed a little cautious, and looked at everyone but Tino.
"No, true. Not that Mathias is a blessing to be around when he's drunk. The shit he starts spewing is even over the top for porn movies."
"He's never a blessing to be around."
Tino thought they were exaggerating. "Come on, they won't get drunk of only one glass."
"Kiku does." Abel said, leaning back and still watching the scene.
"What exactly does he do when he's drunk?" Carlos asked.
Berwald and Abel looked at each other, sighed and apparently shared the feeling of dread at the memory. Abel decided to explain. "One glass is enough to get him stripping on the table and give you a rather unwanted lap dance. And for the sick fucks here who are into that sort of thing, I'll have to disappoint you as well because he doesn't have sexy legs." He and Berwald both cringed.
"Let's just hope he goes out cold then." Carlos said, a little afraid of what would happen if the other option would occur.
For a moment it seemed as though the guys would be having a near-serious conversation about wine, but it was spoiled by Gilbert. "I don't even know how you can drink this junk in the first place. It's shit." He ordered a beer, German of course, and left his wine where it was: in the glass.
While the other guys at the table didn't bother to even follow the conversation, Francis, Feliciano, Antonio and Romano did actually seem to be having a discussion about wine. Although the others really did show at least some appreciation, Romano still wasn't convinced. This, of course, was an excuse for Francis to order another bottle of another wine. To convince his friend, of course.
After the second bottle was emptied, and the ritual was about to be repeated for a third time, Matthew excused himself from the table. He went immediately to Alfred as he could already see this escalating. Everyone knew he couldn't control himself if he wanted to. "Al. I think you've had enough for tonight."
"Ah, come on, Matt." He said, grinning. "I've only had two glasses. What damage will that do?"
"You've got no alcohol tolerance whatsoever, so I'd stop now if I were you." He said with his arms crossed and looking unimpressed.
Alfred however, also seemed unimpressed and just turned back to the table, ready to ignore Matthew once again. That was, until he was yanked back by his brother.
"Al. I mean it."
Alfred gave him a cocky smirk, already giving away he had a trick up his sleeve. "Okay, okay. I will stop drinking now, if you-" he grinned and snatched his refilled glass from the table and held it in front of his brother. "drink this in one go."
"What?"
"Come on, Matt. Are you scared? I know you can't do it, so just let me, 'kay?"
Matthew, however, wasn't very impressed by Alfred's tough talk. Nor by the glass of wine.
"Promise?" He asked.
Everyone waited in silence. No one had expected that tone from Matthew, and they wanted to see what would happen next. Even Alfred was surprised. He had hoped Matthew would have chickened out left, but he was persistent. "Sure." He eventually responded.
So Matthew rolled his eyes, snatched the glass from his brother's hand, knocked it back in one go and then slammed the empty glass back onto the table. Much to everyone's surprise, he was perfectly fine. "You're not drinking one drop of alcohol anymore tonight." He decided. And Alfred had to obey. Even though he hadn't expected this outcome in the slightest, he had to keep his promise to his twin.
Everyone looked at Matthew with wide eyes and their jaw on the floor. What happened? Had he grown a pair in the last five seconds, or what? More importantly, Matthew drank? The perfect little example drank?! He seemed completely unaffected by both his twin and the alcohol.
Conversations around the room slowly started again and Matthew sat down again, still unaffected and unimpressed.
"Hey, Matt. Are you alright?" Abel asked.
"Huh? Yeah, I am. Why?"
"You just knocked back a glass of wine in one go. That's quite a bit of booze."
"Oh. Yeah, maybe. I'm used to more than that. Alfred, on the other hand…well, he isn't and he turns into a caricature of himself when he's drunk. You don't want to be around him when that happens."
The rest of the group still couldn't believe it. This was one scary side of Matthew they had never seen before. It was easily explained though when Matthew told them he went to see ice hockey games any once in a while with his father and that, of course, just called for beer.
At the table in the middle of the room, the same ritual of Francis and Romano bickering and ending up ordering yet another bottle was done about six times. Most others had already quit by then as they did know their limits. A few others didn't and would have to face a terrible headache the next morning.
By then, the rest of the class was looking at the scene in the middle of the room with great amusement. Who needed to talk when they had such great entertainment?
Kiku had fallen asleep long before that. The poor thing had tried to do as the others for the sake of not being rude, but had been lulled to sleep after one sip of his second glass. The opposite reaction was found in Gilbert and Romano. While Gilbert had only taken one tiny sip of wine, he had ordered himself a beer every time Francis let the waitress bring another bottle. The two of them were quite intoxicated and shouting more profanities than normal words in each sentence.
Ludwig, who had only had two glasses, got more and more lost in his own situation. His brother was talking and behaving like a drunken chimpanzee while Feliciano was half-asleep using his lap as a pillow.
And the sight of it all was hilarious. While Antonio, Mathias and Ludwig were only the slightest bit tipsy, and Aleksander even seemed perfectly sober despite the four glasses he had emptied, the others were more dead than alive.
By the time Trouillefou managed to tell himself it really was time to leave, it was around eleven in the evening and once again, later than he had expected. This and the few downright drunk students were a terrible pain in the neck. How they would be scolded once they were either sober or hung-over the next morning. The man told himself to calm down, breathe and wait with scolding the drunken bastards until they would be hung-over with a hell of a headache and actually sober enough to remember it.
~o~o~o~
Of course Arthur is a Whovian! If you don't know what Weeping Angels are, here's a quick summary: Weeping Angels appear to be statues, but they can move as long as they are not being seen. They can move metres in literally the blink of an eye, which is why you should never even blink when you come across one. If they catch you, they send you back in time and feed on your time-energy. Nice, eh? We all know Alfred gets scared like a little girl over such stories. ^_^
You can decide for yourself who the four male shopaholics are. ^_^
Translations:
Bäh = Yuck, expression of disgust. It's German, so yes, that was Gilbert shouting.
Lort = Shit in Danish.
Please leave me a review, dear reader.