/ I'm back at it again with my new stories - oh boy!

Don't ask why or how, but I´m more or less OBSESSED with this ship now. Which is great for ya´ll fellow shippers who´s fallen into the pit of darkness. Welcome.

There will be swearing and possible alcohol mentions. You´ve been warned.

Enjoy! /

Chapter 1/Prologue

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Gregory´s POV

"Yes, you incompetent moron - you need a screwdriver - know what that is? Bloody hell…."

Gregory groaned in agony as he leaned back into his couch. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, as one might at first presume. Especially if they took a small glance at his tensed facial muscles, how his eye twitched not ever so slightly. Lamentably for the young brit, this was a rather common scenario unfolding between the pals. Not a pleasing one either to say the least.

"Listen 'ere you fuck - zere has to be limits to how prepared I can be." The other side of the line gruffed back in a slightly thick accent.

"Well, pardon me then for thinking a screwdriver, which could be used as both a weapon and a stand- in for several different tools, would be a neat thing to carry along with you. I apologize for dubiety your excellent intelligence."

If it wasn't for the heavy and cringe-like sarcasm that gave off how uninterested the blond was, then his ridiculously formulation surely would.

"I zought you spoke english, not rubbish."

"Oh, you´re one to complain? You wouldn't sense the pure essence of english if it hit you in the face!" He snapped back, furious to how inept his partner in crime was being. As per usual.

Oh sweet sweet grief

"Pur, il dit …"

"Oh, shut it Chris, like I don't know French." Gently massaging his temples, anybody could see that the boy needed a break. Mentally. Keeping up with this idiot was way harder than it looked.

"Only cause you 'ad eet for zree years doesn't mean you're an expert Greg." The other replied in a mocking tone or at least that's how Gregory perceived it.

"Well, the fact you've only lived here for about 7 years doesn't mean you're an expert in english cause that sure as heck is not showing."

Gregory scoffed in return, moving his attention back to his work. Basically giving the other some time to analyze his sassy comment. He wasn't always the brightest when it came to snarky comments, that was for sure.

"Oh, shut ze hell up," was the only response he got. Of course. Mole was a rather static character that was for sure.

"Well, I wish I could but, we actually have a job to get finished now. So use the screwdriver and tell me what the situation looks like, how about that?"

An agonized breath left him as the brit sipped some of his tea. By the look on the situation, it didn't seem like he was far away from having to change the refreshments to something more rough. Like vodka.

"Whatever."

Some sounds were heard from the other side, probably due to him moving the phone around. A few minutes of silence followed as the blonde was stuck with listening to his own typing. And groans of agony. As per usual. Having to deal with a french dickbag who was as stubborn as a donkey wasn't the easiest task in the world. He probably smelled like a donkey too.

"Bonjour, earth calling Gregory. I´m done." The strident noises were now replaced with something far, far worse. French.

"Oh, so you´re done? Are you sure, lad? We both know that when it comes to y-"

"What? What about when et comes to moi?"

"You´re a reckless piece of shit that never knows how to do anything in a careful and collected matter!" He snapped before chugging down some more of his vodka and wondering if he really did have some russian in his blood. Would explain a lot.

"Well listen 'ere, you fuck, I- omg…."

"What?" He furrowed his eyes, worried.

I swear if that twat has gotten himself into some trouble, he'll wish he was killed off right there when I get him…

"GET ZE HELL OFF ME NO QLWJHBJWHLDCJH mmmpff!"

"Chris?! Fuck, Chris, are you there?!" Throwing away his bottle in shock and terror, he found himself staring at the phone. Feeling utterly pathetic and useless. Not sure if he should feel bad about Chris being caught, or the fact he didn't have more vodka.

Surely was a hard choice.

Though before he could grieve more about the dilemma, the call ended and he was left by the oh so annoying dial tone. Without hesitation, he hung up. Or rather slam his phone into the table, let's be real here.

"Oh, he's SO dead!" The blonde sneered as he pushed himself up from his comfortable position.

And he wasn't talking about those who caught him.

Translation:

Pur, il dit … - Pure, he says….

Moi - me