"Now s-s-see here, Bernard- you really can't blame me for this. You know that I've had to heighten airport security measures in recent months in response to the increase risk of potential terrorist atta-"
Arthur's words were cut short as he choked under the tightening grip on his neck. Ice blue eyes drilled into the very depths of his soul, as if trying to induce his destruction.
"Su-san!" Tino cried, yanking at his partner's arm, willing Bernard to let go of the Brit.
"Put 'im down, idiot." Francis sighed. Bernard just squeezed tighter on Arthur's throat, watching his face turn red.
"Su-san, please!" Tino begged. Bernard's expression soured, but he growled and released Arthur, unceremoniously dropping him to the floor. Bernard kept his eyes on the Brit's face, boring a hole into his skull and straight out the other side.
"It's nothing personal." Arthur rasped, rubbing his sore neck with a gloved hand. "We have had to ban most products. Liquids, cosmetics, baby food; even medicine is highly restricted." He coughed loudly, clearing his throat. "Tinned items are under the same regulations. That includes-" He crinkled his face. "-surstromming."
Bernard huffed, but said nothing. The tense silence was broken by Francis' brash voice.
"I, on the other hand, have band it from my airplanes for the sake of all that is good and pure." He smirked smugly. "What you produce is an abomination to cooking. That stuff is too vile to be used even as a weapon, let alone to eat."
Bernard had diverted his attention away from Arthur, and was watching Francis, his face contorted to a shape set to kill. Francis kept wittering on about how not even Ludwig would go near surstromming with a barge pole and that utilising the fermented fish would be a good for the police trying to disband one of the regular Parisian riots.
"Bonnefoy..." Arthur warned in a hoarse whisper.
"I mean, come on! You have to eat the wicked stuff outside!"
"Francis..." Tino's voice quivered. Francis shot the boy an arrogant, winning smile.
"Oh relax, my dear Finland! Your husband can't do anything. He's politically neutral." He turned his suave smile towards the steaming Su-san. "You wouldn't hurt me, right? No matter how much I remind you that sewage tastes better than your cuisine and that only stupid Nords would even consider-"
*THUD*
Bernard flexed his hand as he watched the blood trickle out of the unconscious Frenchman's nose.
You could say what you like about Ikea and Abba, but nobody insults surstromming and gets a way with it.
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no subject
(Anonymous) 2009-01-15 06:29 am (UTC)(link)"Airlines ban 'foul' Swedish fish" and "The decision has made many Swedes very angry indeed."
Dear anon, please show me how angry our resident Swede was?
[Fic] Nobody insults fermented herring! [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-19 01:58 am (UTC)(link)Arthur's words were cut short as he choked under the tightening grip on his neck. Ice blue eyes drilled into the very depths of his soul, as if trying to induce his destruction.
"Su-san!" Tino cried, yanking at his partner's arm, willing Bernard to let go of the Brit.
"Put 'im down, idiot." Francis sighed. Bernard just squeezed tighter on Arthur's throat, watching his face turn red.
"Su-san, please!" Tino begged. Bernard's expression soured, but he growled and released Arthur, unceremoniously dropping him to the floor. Bernard kept his eyes on the Brit's face, boring a hole into his skull and straight out the other side.
"It's nothing personal." Arthur rasped, rubbing his sore neck with a gloved hand. "We have had to ban most products. Liquids, cosmetics, baby food; even medicine is highly restricted." He coughed loudly, clearing his throat. "Tinned items are under the same regulations. That includes-" He crinkled his face. "-surstromming."
Bernard huffed, but said nothing. The tense silence was broken by Francis' brash voice.
"I, on the other hand, have band it from my airplanes for the sake of all that is good and pure." He smirked smugly. "What you produce is an abomination to cooking. That stuff is too vile to be used even as a weapon, let alone to eat."
Bernard had diverted his attention away from Arthur, and was watching Francis, his face contorted to a shape set to kill. Francis kept wittering on about how not even Ludwig would go near surstromming with a barge pole and that utilising the fermented fish would be a good for the police trying to disband one of the regular Parisian riots.
"Bonnefoy..." Arthur warned in a hoarse whisper.
"I mean, come on! You have to eat the wicked stuff outside!"
"Francis..." Tino's voice quivered. Francis shot the boy an arrogant, winning smile.
"Oh relax, my dear Finland! Your husband can't do anything. He's politically neutral." He turned his suave smile towards the steaming Su-san. "You wouldn't hurt me, right? No matter how much I remind you that sewage tastes better than your cuisine and that only stupid Nords would even consider-"
*THUD*
Bernard flexed his hand as he watched the blood trickle out of the unconscious Frenchman's nose.
You could say what you like about Ikea and Abba, but nobody insults surstromming and gets a way with it.
Not OP
(Anonymous) 2009-01-19 04:22 am (UTC)(link)The last line is the best part.
Re: [Fic] Nobody insults fermented herring! [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-19 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)Re: [Fic] Nobody insults fermented herring! [1/1]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-25 01:37 am (UTC)(link)