A/N: damnit this apron stuff gets me every time, hope this turned out alright
Manservant
USA whistled cheerfully to himself as he made his way to the brand new restaurant that France had told him to try out. Being one to never opt out of eating some new delicious food, the American nation had enthusiastically agreed to go – and that was when he found out that France wouldn’t actually be there, but England would be.
Now, why would England be at France’s restaurant? America sweatdropped. He hoped that the former empire wasn’t going to be the one doing the cooking… It was highly doubtful that France would ever let that happen though.
So it was with a curious expression that the tall blond pulled open the door to the establishment and stepped inside.
The dining area was dimly lit and to America’s surprise the restaurant was a bit more on the casual side – like a higher scale bar. Plenty of patrons sat drinking while others had plates of food.
“Excusez-moi? United States?” The host greeted him suavely and America strutted importantly after him, a wide smile on his face as he was seated at his own private booth. He sprawled languidly on the cushioned seat, one hand loosely tapping the clean table top as he looked around.
‘Well so far so good.’ Maybe he’d give France a 3 or 4 star rating this time around.
“Your server will be with you soon.” The host assured in an accented voice. “If you’ll wait just un moment?”
“Can do.” America bobbed his head absently as the Frenchman left.
He looked around the dining area with more interest… and sat up straight when he noticed just what was so different about this particular restaurant. The waiters – all of them men – they were dressed in, well… actually more like NOT dressed-!
It seemed like this place was pricey for a good reason! The server men all wore a similar heavily revealing uniform as they brought the customers their orders.
America felt himself flush and shifted in his seat, suddenly very much aware of all the pieces of clothing he himself wore. ‘Damn…’ The blue-eyed man thought with a faint smile. This was such a titillating atmosphere.
The American nation ran a tongue over his perfect teeth and quirked an eyebrow as he cleared his throat, glancing away from the rest of the room when the kitchen doors opened.
Another man servant stepped out and USA sputtered to himself. “E-England…!?”
The British nation didn’t notice him, those familiar thick eyebrows furrowed as he moved around the tables slowly and stiffly with as much dignity as he could muster (which was actually quite a LOT).
America’s eyes widened and he couldn’t resist it as they wandered down that expanse of bare skin. The tousle-haired man’s smooth, defined chest, dusky nipples, and flat, trim, stomach were all on display in his waiter outfit.
A small white apron was tied securely around UK’s hips just beneath his navel. The fabric barely covered anything as it stopped short at just the top of his unclothed thighs, creasing invitingly as he walked.
Shirt cuffs adorned his wrists and a matching shirt collar was fastened neatly around his neck, a small blue bowtie finishing the look.
By the time America had finished taking in the other man his pulse had sped up and he was very nearly speechless. He licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed, hand clenching into a loose fist.
He knew from experience that UK’s face coloured easily whenever he yelled, and now seeing the rest of him America couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of that body did the same. A grin covered USA’s mouth when he saw the host from earlier catch England’s attention and angrily bark out some kind of reprimand, gesturing wildly in the American’s direction.
England’s eyebrow visibly twitched and followed where the boss was pointing, finally catching sight of his former colony. The British man nearly dropped his tray.
A wide smile curved America’s mouth and he waved his fingers cheerfully when their eyes met.
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Manservant part 1
(Anonymous) 2009-01-17 02:40 am (UTC)(link)Manservant
USA whistled cheerfully to himself as he made his way to the brand new restaurant that France had told him to try out. Being one to never opt out of eating some new delicious food, the American nation had enthusiastically agreed to go – and that was when he found out that France wouldn’t actually be there, but England would be.
Now, why would England be at France’s restaurant? America sweatdropped. He hoped that the former empire wasn’t going to be the one doing the cooking… It was highly doubtful that France would ever let that happen though.
So it was with a curious expression that the tall blond pulled open the door to the establishment and stepped inside.
The dining area was dimly lit and to America’s surprise the restaurant was a bit more on the casual side – like a higher scale bar. Plenty of patrons sat drinking while others had plates of food.
“Excusez-moi? United States?” The host greeted him suavely and America strutted importantly after him, a wide smile on his face as he was seated at his own private booth. He sprawled languidly on the cushioned seat, one hand loosely tapping the clean table top as he looked around.
‘Well so far so good.’ Maybe he’d give France a 3 or 4 star rating this time around.
“Your server will be with you soon.” The host assured in an accented voice. “If you’ll wait just un moment?”
“Can do.” America bobbed his head absently as the Frenchman left.
He looked around the dining area with more interest… and sat up straight when he noticed just what was so different about this particular restaurant. The waiters – all of them men – they were dressed in, well… actually more like NOT dressed-!
It seemed like this place was pricey for a good reason! The server men all wore a similar heavily revealing uniform as they brought the customers their orders.
America felt himself flush and shifted in his seat, suddenly very much aware of all the pieces of clothing he himself wore. ‘Damn…’ The blue-eyed man thought with a faint smile. This was such a titillating atmosphere.
The American nation ran a tongue over his perfect teeth and quirked an eyebrow as he cleared his throat, glancing away from the rest of the room when the kitchen doors opened.
Another man servant stepped out and USA sputtered to himself. “E-England…!?”
The British nation didn’t notice him, those familiar thick eyebrows furrowed as he moved around the tables slowly and stiffly with as much dignity as he could muster (which was actually quite a LOT).
America’s eyes widened and he couldn’t resist it as they wandered down that expanse of bare skin. The tousle-haired man’s smooth, defined chest, dusky nipples, and flat, trim, stomach were all on display in his waiter outfit.
A small white apron was tied securely around UK’s hips just beneath his navel. The fabric barely covered anything as it stopped short at just the top of his unclothed thighs, creasing invitingly as he walked.
Shirt cuffs adorned his wrists and a matching shirt collar was fastened neatly around his neck, a small blue bowtie finishing the look.
By the time America had finished taking in the other man his pulse had sped up and he was very nearly speechless. He licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed, hand clenching into a loose fist.
He knew from experience that UK’s face coloured easily whenever he yelled, and now seeing the rest of him America couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of that body did the same. A grin covered USA’s mouth when he saw the host from earlier catch England’s attention and angrily bark out some kind of reprimand, gesturing wildly in the American’s direction.
England’s eyebrow visibly twitched and followed where the boss was pointing, finally catching sight of his former colony. The British man nearly dropped his tray.
A wide smile curved America’s mouth and he waved his fingers cheerfully when their eyes met.