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ishimeDisclaimer : Pokemon belongs to Tajiri Satoshi and Nintendo, Hetalia and its characters to Himayura.
Rating : G
Notes :
First posted on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
what_the_fruk 's FRUK december love-fest.
Because Arthur's failures at cooking somehow translated into "GRIMER!" in my mind. And writing Francis with a terrible French accent amuses me. And those two are terribly cute as little boys, even more so with pokemons.Yes I'm a poketard.
(Just in case somebody doesn't know/remember what they look like, here's pidgeot, here's grimer, here's buneary and here's croagunk.)
Arthur took a peek at what had once been a clean and tidy kitchen through his trembling fingers, and felt his ears burn with shame. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a terrific mess. With his other hand, he hugged his buneary closer to his chest, digging his fingers in the soft, cotton-like fur of the pokemon and carefully avoiding Francis's eyes. He shifted from one foot to the other, opened his mouth and tried to find an excuse, or at least some sort of explanation, but all he could manage was an abashed "huh".
A sharp hiss came from the other boy's direction, and that was Arthur's only warning before his hand was yanked away from his face. He squeaked together with his buneary, whom he was crushing against his chest. The little pokemon started to struggle, tossing his ears against his master's face. It took a few seconds for Arthur to regain enough control over his nerves to stop squeezing the buneary. Francis kept staring at them until Arthur calmed down a bit, then snorted at his edginess, and tilted up his chin to rub the flour off his face with a silky sleeve.
"You are so useless," he whispered, his pretty face all knitted by his frown. "The sablés were almost done - and I told you not to touch anyssing."
Arthur flinched, and clutched at his buneary to keep himself from crying. Crying was for girls, and for babies. He was not a baby. And - and Francis was always meaner when he cried.
"I didn't. I... didn't." His voice sounded so awful and high-pitched, nothing like Francis' melodious accent and tone. "I swear I didn't!"
Francis raised a thin eyebrow to send the younger boy his best "do not take me for a fool" glare, and the pidgeotto perched on his shoulder chirped disdainfully. The effect was instantaneous: Arthur started to fidget, and, to his shame, felt his eyes getting wetter and wetter by the second.
Just when he was about to burst into tears, though, Francis glared away and shrugged, disturbing his pidgeotto in the process. The bird pokemon flew off with an outraged cry, and kept flapping his wings an inch away from Arthur's face while Francis stroked his feathers softly, cooing appeasing words. Under more ordinary circumstances, Arthur would have called Francis on the rudeness of his pokemon, but for now he was just glad Gallus had such a gigantic ego.
Once his pidgeotto had settled back on his shoulder, Francis crossed the kitchen to inspect the open oven and the revolting mix of charcoal and stinking purple jelly. He ran his finger on the oven's door, wrinkled his nose and mumbled something, no doubt offensive, in French.
Arthur waited for the older boy to turn back to him, tugging at his buneary's long ears. His pokemon whined a little - he didn't like to have his fur ruffled - but he loved his trainer, so he didn't try to escape Arthur's nervous ministrations. When Francis did turn back, a few minutes later, he had his bird-less arm raised and a long, delicate index was pointing dramatically at Arthur.
"You let your greemer eento ze keetchen."
It wasn't a question - the culprit had left a handful of characteristically disgusting tracks. Arthur stared at the dirt on Francis' finger, then shook his head.
"I didn't! And, and - stop pointing at me, you croagunk!"
Francis rolled his eyes, unaffected by Arthur's weak attempt at hiding his embarrassment. He grinned, took a graceful step toward him and poked his nose with his mucky finger.
"Ah oui, c'est vrai. I'm sorry mon lapinou, I just forgot zat you are too leettle to control your pokemons properly."
Arthur's mouth opened, wide, but he couldn't find anything to snap back at Francis. As humiliating as it was, the other boy had a point here - one he never forgot to make good use of. Gallus pointed his beak toward Arthur and let out a series of chirps that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Arthur frowned, and wished he had another option than bearing with it. How Francis-like, he thought, to teach his pokemon to make fun of other people. Or maybe it was Arthur getting special treatment again.
Then Gallus extended a wing toward Arthur's nose, and Francis started to giggle like a madman, both leaving Arthur rather confused.
He glared at Francis, who was now struggling to catch his breath, and tapped his foot; his buneary jolted and almost bit his trainer in his fright. Arthur abandoned Francis and his stupid bird to their fate to apologize to his own pokemon. He was very busy brushing the long, soft ears when a shadow fell on him.
Francis' hand reached for his chin, tipped it up again, and with a knowing grin, the older boy rubbed Arthur's nose clean with the same sleeve he'd used to wipe his tears away.
Arthur snapped.
"Don't look at me like I was the stupid one! Croagunk! You put that on my nose, you knew what you were doing, you... croagunk, croagunk, croagunk!"
Francis frowned and turned his head to exchange a look with Gallus. His hair fluttered around his skull as he did, and Arthur got caught up in the sheer prettiness of it, all soft, wheat-colored threads gleaming gold where light fell on it. Francis, of course, took advantage of this to turn back toward him and rub his dirty sleeve against his cheek.
Arthur jumped away and glared dagger at him. For a second, he considered sending his buneary to attack Francis, or at least make a huge mess out of his pretty hair ; the thought was delightful but with Gallus perched on Francis' shoulder, Arthur knew better than to try. He didn't want his pokemon to get hurt. So he settled for running away, as he always did when Francis got too mean.
Unfortunately for him, Francis was not set on letting him leave today. Arthur hadn't even reached the door when Gallus flew in front of him and pecked him back in Francis' embrace. Arthur even dropped his poor buneary in his haste to dodge the pidgeotto's attacks. He squeaked as he felt Francis' arms catch him, and put up as much fight as he could - which didn't amount to much, alas.
"Allons, allons. Zere's no need to react so badly, I swear." He laughed softly. "It's not zat bad - your greemer didn't break anyssing zis time. We'll clean it up and I'll make you ozer sablés, so don't cry, d'accord?"
Arthur paused at the mention of another batch of gateaux. As much as he hated Francis, his stupid bird and his weird accent, he had to admit that his cooking was delicious. Besides, cleaning up together would mean Francis helping him get his stupid grimer back into its pokeball - he didn't need the help, but it would make things a lot faster and easier. He kept struggling for a while, though, if only for the sake of his reputation - even though he knew that Francis knew he was putting up a show.
Eventually, he let his arms fall back against his sides, let Francis hug him - though he did not enjoy it, not at all - and grumbled.
"Fine. I'll help you - but those biscuits better taste good!"
Francis tssked, and put a smack on his cheek.
"You are chou, mon lapin. But zey are sablés, not biscuits."
Arthur turned as red as a corphish, no doubt up to his ears and neck; he resumed his struggling in a desperate and futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. Why did Francis keep kissing him like that? It was girly, and Arthur was too big to get kissed by another boy, no matter how pretty they looked!
"Let me go, you perverted croagunk! Let me go let me go let me goooooo!"
Francis giggled; then he hugged him closer and carried him into the kitchen, Gallus imitating the gesture with Arthur's buneary.
More notes:
Gallus => "A common and traditional symbol of the French people is the Gallic rooster. Its origins date back to Antiquity, since the Latin word Gallus meant both "rooster" and "inhabitant of Gaul". Then this figure gradually became the most widely shared representation of the French, used by French monarchs, then by the Revolution and under the successive republican regimes as representation of the national identity, used for some stamps and coins.[256] Although it is not an official symbol of the Republic, it is the most common image to symbolize France in the collective imagination and abroad."
(from wikipedia, France, "society and reputation")
Sablés => are awesome French biscuits.
Rating : G
Notes :
First posted on
what_the_fruk 's FRUK december love-fest. Because Arthur's failures at cooking somehow translated into "GRIMER!" in my mind. And writing Francis with a terrible French accent amuses me. And those two are terribly cute as little boys, even more so with pokemons.
(Just in case somebody doesn't know/remember what they look like, here's pidgeot, here's grimer, here's buneary and here's croagunk.)
Arthur took a peek at what had once been a clean and tidy kitchen through his trembling fingers, and felt his ears burn with shame. He couldn't remember ever seeing such a terrific mess. With his other hand, he hugged his buneary closer to his chest, digging his fingers in the soft, cotton-like fur of the pokemon and carefully avoiding Francis's eyes. He shifted from one foot to the other, opened his mouth and tried to find an excuse, or at least some sort of explanation, but all he could manage was an abashed "huh".
A sharp hiss came from the other boy's direction, and that was Arthur's only warning before his hand was yanked away from his face. He squeaked together with his buneary, whom he was crushing against his chest. The little pokemon started to struggle, tossing his ears against his master's face. It took a few seconds for Arthur to regain enough control over his nerves to stop squeezing the buneary. Francis kept staring at them until Arthur calmed down a bit, then snorted at his edginess, and tilted up his chin to rub the flour off his face with a silky sleeve.
"You are so useless," he whispered, his pretty face all knitted by his frown. "The sablés were almost done - and I told you not to touch anyssing."
Arthur flinched, and clutched at his buneary to keep himself from crying. Crying was for girls, and for babies. He was not a baby. And - and Francis was always meaner when he cried.
"I didn't. I... didn't." His voice sounded so awful and high-pitched, nothing like Francis' melodious accent and tone. "I swear I didn't!"
Francis raised a thin eyebrow to send the younger boy his best "do not take me for a fool" glare, and the pidgeotto perched on his shoulder chirped disdainfully. The effect was instantaneous: Arthur started to fidget, and, to his shame, felt his eyes getting wetter and wetter by the second.
Just when he was about to burst into tears, though, Francis glared away and shrugged, disturbing his pidgeotto in the process. The bird pokemon flew off with an outraged cry, and kept flapping his wings an inch away from Arthur's face while Francis stroked his feathers softly, cooing appeasing words. Under more ordinary circumstances, Arthur would have called Francis on the rudeness of his pokemon, but for now he was just glad Gallus had such a gigantic ego.
Once his pidgeotto had settled back on his shoulder, Francis crossed the kitchen to inspect the open oven and the revolting mix of charcoal and stinking purple jelly. He ran his finger on the oven's door, wrinkled his nose and mumbled something, no doubt offensive, in French.
Arthur waited for the older boy to turn back to him, tugging at his buneary's long ears. His pokemon whined a little - he didn't like to have his fur ruffled - but he loved his trainer, so he didn't try to escape Arthur's nervous ministrations. When Francis did turn back, a few minutes later, he had his bird-less arm raised and a long, delicate index was pointing dramatically at Arthur.
"You let your greemer eento ze keetchen."
It wasn't a question - the culprit had left a handful of characteristically disgusting tracks. Arthur stared at the dirt on Francis' finger, then shook his head.
"I didn't! And, and - stop pointing at me, you croagunk!"
Francis rolled his eyes, unaffected by Arthur's weak attempt at hiding his embarrassment. He grinned, took a graceful step toward him and poked his nose with his mucky finger.
"Ah oui, c'est vrai. I'm sorry mon lapinou, I just forgot zat you are too leettle to control your pokemons properly."
Arthur's mouth opened, wide, but he couldn't find anything to snap back at Francis. As humiliating as it was, the other boy had a point here - one he never forgot to make good use of. Gallus pointed his beak toward Arthur and let out a series of chirps that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Arthur frowned, and wished he had another option than bearing with it. How Francis-like, he thought, to teach his pokemon to make fun of other people. Or maybe it was Arthur getting special treatment again.
Then Gallus extended a wing toward Arthur's nose, and Francis started to giggle like a madman, both leaving Arthur rather confused.
He glared at Francis, who was now struggling to catch his breath, and tapped his foot; his buneary jolted and almost bit his trainer in his fright. Arthur abandoned Francis and his stupid bird to their fate to apologize to his own pokemon. He was very busy brushing the long, soft ears when a shadow fell on him.
Francis' hand reached for his chin, tipped it up again, and with a knowing grin, the older boy rubbed Arthur's nose clean with the same sleeve he'd used to wipe his tears away.
Arthur snapped.
"Don't look at me like I was the stupid one! Croagunk! You put that on my nose, you knew what you were doing, you... croagunk, croagunk, croagunk!"
Francis frowned and turned his head to exchange a look with Gallus. His hair fluttered around his skull as he did, and Arthur got caught up in the sheer prettiness of it, all soft, wheat-colored threads gleaming gold where light fell on it. Francis, of course, took advantage of this to turn back toward him and rub his dirty sleeve against his cheek.
Arthur jumped away and glared dagger at him. For a second, he considered sending his buneary to attack Francis, or at least make a huge mess out of his pretty hair ; the thought was delightful but with Gallus perched on Francis' shoulder, Arthur knew better than to try. He didn't want his pokemon to get hurt. So he settled for running away, as he always did when Francis got too mean.
Unfortunately for him, Francis was not set on letting him leave today. Arthur hadn't even reached the door when Gallus flew in front of him and pecked him back in Francis' embrace. Arthur even dropped his poor buneary in his haste to dodge the pidgeotto's attacks. He squeaked as he felt Francis' arms catch him, and put up as much fight as he could - which didn't amount to much, alas.
"Allons, allons. Zere's no need to react so badly, I swear." He laughed softly. "It's not zat bad - your greemer didn't break anyssing zis time. We'll clean it up and I'll make you ozer sablés, so don't cry, d'accord?"
Arthur paused at the mention of another batch of gateaux. As much as he hated Francis, his stupid bird and his weird accent, he had to admit that his cooking was delicious. Besides, cleaning up together would mean Francis helping him get his stupid grimer back into its pokeball - he didn't need the help, but it would make things a lot faster and easier. He kept struggling for a while, though, if only for the sake of his reputation - even though he knew that Francis knew he was putting up a show.
Eventually, he let his arms fall back against his sides, let Francis hug him - though he did not enjoy it, not at all - and grumbled.
"Fine. I'll help you - but those biscuits better taste good!"
Francis tssked, and put a smack on his cheek.
"You are chou, mon lapin. But zey are sablés, not biscuits."
Arthur turned as red as a corphish, no doubt up to his ears and neck; he resumed his struggling in a desperate and futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. Why did Francis keep kissing him like that? It was girly, and Arthur was too big to get kissed by another boy, no matter how pretty they looked!
"Let me go, you perverted croagunk! Let me go let me go let me goooooo!"
Francis giggled; then he hugged him closer and carried him into the kitchen, Gallus imitating the gesture with Arthur's buneary.
More notes:
Gallus => "A common and traditional symbol of the French people is the Gallic rooster. Its origins date back to Antiquity, since the Latin word Gallus meant both "rooster" and "inhabitant of Gaul". Then this figure gradually became the most widely shared representation of the French, used by French monarchs, then by the Revolution and under the successive republican regimes as representation of the national identity, used for some stamps and coins.[256] Although it is not an official symbol of the Republic, it is the most common image to symbolize France in the collective imagination and abroad."
(from wikipedia, France, "society and reputation")
Sablés => are awesome French biscuits.
