Francis put down his glass of wine. It was a strange drink for the local bar, but one that he loved. "Ah, mon petit Gilbert, I assure you I could bed any man in this place."
Antonio smirked in his glass. "This again? Why do we get into this discussion every time we get drunk?"
His question was ignored by Gilbert, however. "Alright, if you can fuck any guy in here, then..." scarlet eyes roamed the bar, and smiled an evil smile when he saw a very drunk, upset and angry looking blond by the counter. "screw him tonight."
The Frenchman smiled. "If you wanted to give me a challenge, you should have picked the fat man in the corner. But that blond one looks delectable." He stood up and started walking over there.
Antonio stopped him. "Wait, you need to get a picture for proof."
"Ah, oui, are you still having problems with your cute boyfriend, and need some relief?" He laughed, managing to make his voice sound like roses.
"Bloody New York... What an excuse for a city! Where's the history? Where's the culture? No where; that's where. It's just an urban sprawl of nothing but concrete supported by lies. New York my arse. Good old York beats this shite hole any day. After all, England is far superior then America," Arthur continued his winded rant to the whiskey glass he had been nursing for a few minutes. He had already been sitting on the same barstool for a few hours, and had gone through more glasses then he cared to count. "and don't even get me started on driving. For a country that believes in individuality so much, why aren't they zipping around in hovercrafts by now? Because they are all incompetent fools." With that, he brought the glass to this lips, tilting back and downing it in one go.
Grazing the blond's back lightly with a practised hand Francis sat down beside him. "Bonjour, it looks like your glass is getting empty there. Let me buy you another one?"
Looking over to the person who sat beside him, Arthur pounded his fist on the counter. "You bloody better offer to. Judging by your abhorrent accent you must be French. That alone deserves at least two, frog." He then pushed the now empty glass in front of him.
Francis shot Gilbert and Antonio a glare to see they were laughing and banging on the table, obviously having heard that the blond was English. He forced a smile. "Why yes, I am French. So what are you drinking there?" He managed to not add rosbif on the end of his question.
"Whiskey on the rocks. And it better be the good stuff you're getting me!" The Briton added drunkenly, glaring once more at the offending man who was still sitting beside him. Just what was his deal, sitting there all calm? If he had the proper decency, he would buy Arthur the drinks then make himself sparse.
He got the drink while grinding his teeth. He would have left, if not for the bet. Of course, they had made no real rules, nothing he got if he won, and nothing he had to do if he lost, so he could just leave now... When he handed the glass to the already drunk man, the blond looked up at him with green eyes and a flushed face from too much alcohol. Alright, so maybe him finishing the bet would be his prize. "Voilà."
Letting his face slip into a momentary smile, he then brought the drink to his lips once again and limited himself to a sip. Well, at least for that time. If the conniving Frenchman acted anything like his countries people, his body was literally in danger of being molested. Not that he would mind too much at this point... If it wasn't for the fact he was so bloody - attractive, his mind purred- daft he would have jumped him right there and then. Bloody frog. "You know what?" He asked after another swig of the golden liquid.
Slightly dreading the answer, Francis asked, "What?" His voice sounding like silk in the noisy bar. He had worked on making his voice so attractive in such an atmosphere for a while, although if anyone complimented him on it he had a practised air of humbleness.
Arthur stared at the man's lips for a moment till he realized he had actually answered. Shaking his head lightly, he then unceremoniously downed all the alcohol, wincing slightly at the burn. "You've been here a while, I presume? In America, that is." Even completely plastered his vocabulary surpassed those of most Americans.
"Oui, I have been here since I was 20. Et toi?" He ordered a glass of champagne, another of his favourite drinks.
"A few weeks, at the very least." He looked expectantly at the blond man before he called the bartender for another drink. Grabbing onto it as if it would run away if he didn't, Arthur started poking the ice cubes absentmindedly. "What happened to you then? Escaped the assimilating melting pot better known as the United States? I'm amazed you survived."
Francis gave a laugh. Now that this Englishman had seemed to calm down a little, he wasn't so bad. "I assume by that, you don't like it here. Why, then, are you here at all?" It was obvious they both weren't too interested in the conversation, but it was how this country works. Perhaps in France you can tell someone that you wish to bed them, but here it was different.
At that, the Briton responded with his own drunken laugh. "You know the deal: A friend and a job. Couldn't pass up a guaranteed salary in these tough times even if it did mean going somewhere with no taste." Gulping down more than half the glass, he then smiled wearily at the strange man, his face flushing with alcohol.
"Yes, I suppose." 'Being English, he would know a thing or two about no taste' he said in his mind. When the sexy blond wobbled in his chair, Francis reached over to his glass. "Perhaps you've had enough. By the looks of it, you won't even be able to get home."
"Pah!" Arthur exclaimed, grabbing the glass back ferociously; a little spilling over the edge. "That'd be a waste of a perfectly good drink." Before the Parisian could take it back, he finished it in one go, smacking his lips after he did.
"If you've got nothing better than to question my drinking habits, buy me another and leave. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself." Even with his strong words, he had started to slur a bit. He was also starting to have a mental battle between himself: his rational side said to just walk away and ignore the wine-faced git, but the stronger, extremely inebriated side said to just snog the blond man silly right there and then.
Francis laughed a little and put his chin delicately in his hand. Now to start working his magic. "You'll be perfectly fine? Then tell me, what is the address of your place so you can get a taxi tonight?"
Arthur just stared for a few seconds before answering, distracted somewhat by the strange man's charisma. Not that he was jealous, mind you. "Somewhere in bloody New York that's where I live. I don't need a taxi, I'll find it by sheer intuition."
"Well, unless you can give your driver this intuition, I doubt your going to find your way home tonight. Because there is no way you can drive like you are right now." Francis marvelled at his own brilliance. If Mr. Drunk couldn't get home, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to take him to the nearest hotel. And, if he actually remembered his address, than he would just have to take him home. To avoid an accident, of course. With the added bonus of winning the bet.
Pushing down his alcohol induced lust, Arthur just sneered. "Who ever said I was driving? I walked the whole bloody way here, I can walk back."
"Oh, this should be interesting." Perhaps being slightly drunk made Francis a sadist, but he wanted to see the sexy blond fall. He really did. "Why don't you try walking over to me." He stood up and back a few steps, glad there weren't too many people around for this sure-to-be catastrophe.
He just watched as the suave man got off his seat and open his arms slightly, inviting him to walk. Standing up himself, he swayed slightly, gripping onto the counter with a vice-like hands. "I would if you would stop moving!" By now, his vision had started to double and spin slightly.
"I'm not moving at all. Also, there is only one of me, in case you were wondering." Francis stood there with his arms open, waiting to catch the wobbling blond.
"Fine." The Briton muttered, his thick eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. "Just... I'll show you. I don't need some fucking frog to help me." Letting go of the counter in an act of bravery, he then took a few steps. Still standing, he let himself smirk at the -ravishing- blond across the room and continued to walk.
After not even three steps, the Englishman fell forward. Francis caught him in a smooth motion, even though he himself was partially drunk. "And you expect to walk beside cars along this busy road?"
"They'll just have to avoid me..." He managed to mumble as his face flared bright red. Being held up by the blond had made him more embarrassed than he would have ever admitted to. Pressed against the Parisian's chest, he could feel the heat radiating from it through the fine silk shirt he was wearing, making his blood fight between going to his face or somewhere farther south.
"Hm, yes, that must be the only way. Unfortunately, I have a strange compulsion to not let people as sexy as you die in a tragic car accident. Been that way since childhood, I'm afraid, so you're not going to make me change."
Finally realizing just what he was doing, Arthur managed to push himself away from the embrace. "You're just looking for a quick shag aren't you?" He asked matter-of-fact. Although he was trying to appear serious, the fact that he was swaggering didn't help.
"Perhaps. The world just isn't filled with enough love pour moi, I'm afraid. But, are you not here for the same reason?" Francis smiled and tilted his head slightly. Since it was obvious that the blond wasn't one for romance, he decided going off about him being the love of his life wasn't a good idea.
Contemplating the question for a second due to being more preoccupied with the man's lips then what he actually said, he shook his head once more to clear the thoughts. "It wasn't my original intention." Shrugging, Arthur walked back to the barstool he was sitting on with a bit of difficulty and grabbed his jacket. Noticing that Mr. Frenchman had stayed still, he added, "but it doesn't mean I'm not open to the idea. As long as I'm drunk enough not to remember sleeping with some snail-eating git, I'll go for it."
Forcing a smile, Francis nodded. "Alright then. I'll just go say au revoir to my friends and we can go." He went back to the table where Gilbert and Antonio were still laughing over their alcohol. "Well, I must go have sex with a very drunk man in a cheap hotel, because he is much too drunk to know the difference." He picked up Gilbert's drink and finished it off in one gulp. "Say hello to your brother for me." He said to the fightsy German with a wink.
"Dammit, I don't have a brother complex!"
Both Francis and Antonio rolled their eyes. The Frenchman went to go join the wobbly blond at the door.
Arthur watched as the man said goodbye to his 'friends', licking his lips unconsciously at the thought of what was to come. Truth be told, he had originally gone to the bar just to get piss drunk and forget about the fact that his friend had somehow managed to get him a good enough deal to get him to move to the United States. With that, he had also hoped that someone would pay homage on him and help pay for a taxi to get him home. Or if worse came to worse he'd just end up staying the night in the local drunk tank and make his way home from there.
"So now where to? I highly doubt someone of your playboy calibre would settle for an alley-fuck." The Englishman stated bluntly, the whiskey taking any hidden meanings out of this thought process.
"Well of course not." Francis said, even though he had had a few of those. Well, more than a few, truth be told. "There is a hotel near here. I think even you could walk there, with my help of course."
"A hotel, hm? Am I not good enough for your house, mystery man?" He muttered as he followed after the man in question. "Just what is your name anyways?"
"Ah, but that would spoil the fun. With no names, it stays a mystery, and isn't that divine?" Francis said, looping one arm around the blond's waist to keep him upright. With one night stands, he found it better without names. Then they couldn't find you afterwards if they were the stalker type. "On to the hotel!"
Blushing again from the contact, Arthur just grumbled. "You better be a bloody good lay for wasting my drinking time." He would never say it, but anyone would be good after only having his hand for a few long years.
"Oh, I'm sure I will be more than enough." Francis rolled his eyes to the sky. This rosbif was really getting on his nerves. But, for the sake of the bet, his reputation, and claiming that perfect ass for himself, he would grin and bear it.
Staying silent, he just continued to let the man lead him in the direction of the hotel they were apparently going to. Occasionally he would stumble, causing Mr. Frenchman to tighten the grip on his waist. By the time they had gotten to the foyer of the hotel, Arthur had resumed his drunken ramblings. "Stupid bloody frog for being so damn attractive! I would have never let some wine swilling bastard do this; it must be something in the air. How else would it explain it?" His words slowly became less and less enunciated, turning into more of a growl then any coherent thoughts.
Francis smiled at his thoughts. 'Well I am pretty attractive. You shouldn't blame yourself, many people have fallen to my charm.' But of course if he actually said this, the Englishman surely would have refused to go any further, the stubborn man. So instead he steered him into a chair while he asked for a room from the cute brunette behind the counter.
Arthur just stayed sitting in the chair, grumbling all the while. Watching as he talked to the person behind the counter, he stood up quickly. After blacking out for a second, he stumbled back over to the blond and sneered at the employee. "Give him the key already so we can screw and get this over with."
He just smiled seductively at the brunette. "Well, merci for the discount, Feliciano." Francis turned around with the key and had to catch his one-night stand that had been about to do a nose dive into the counter.
Instead of letting the dark blue eyed stranger lead him, Arthur grabbed the arm that was around him and pulled it off, marching determinedly to the elevator. Once they were in, the Parisian man opened his mouth as if to ask what he was doing, but was promptly cut off as Arthur threw his arms around his neck and attacked it with his own.
Hope everyone liked the first chapter! There will be more to follow!