#engportfra

He did indeed! This is part 2 of @needcake's wonderful prompts: '2) Engportfra - platonic foot-holding'

A Social Mishap

Characters: England, France, Portugal/ EngPortFra

Part two of An Unfortunate Reminder

--------

When Gabriel finds Arthur, sat alone in the middle of the restaurant by the window, he sees that he's about to leave.

The restaurant is full- packed on a Friday night with people dressed to the nines- and there’s even a live band playing discreetly in the corner. Something light, something old. Gabriel’s coat is taken from him smoothly as soon as he steps properly through the door and, he thinks as he smooths back his hair and wipes away the damp feel of rain from it, this is probably one of the nicest places he’s been to in years. Reminiscent of something he didn’t realise was falling out of fashion until it was far too late to appreciate it properly.

Arthur has his back to entrance so Gabriel can’t see his face but he knows, from knowing Arthur as long as he has, that by the tense, back set of his shoulders and the flush on his ears he is furious. He can almost hear his feet tapping under the table.

Smiling at the seating staff- sim, he is quite alright, thank you- Gabriel winds his way through the other tables and patrons to get to him quickly and lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it through his blazer to calm him when he starts in surprise.

‘Is this seat free?’

Arthur turns to stare up at him. He’s well dressed like everyone else here: smart navy suit and tie with a crisp white shirt that looks newly ironed. The outfit is well-tailored to him, blazer nipped in at the waist to show him slender. Gabriel misses the eras when Arthur would cloak himself in the deepest of reds, the greediest of magpies loose on the seas, but he cleans up well in these modern calm blues. And there, quietly glinting in low yellow light, are still studs in his ear, little hints to personality cresting under the etiquette.

Gabriel grinned.

“Arthur, I’ve seen you steal your brothers’ beer enough times that I can say for a fact that you’re the last person here who can comment.” Gabriel, once Francis was over the fence, turned to Arthur expectantly, smiling at him in a way that made Arthur damn near melt.

“Technically, drinking alcohol under the age of 18 isn’t illegal, Gabe.” Arthur glanced over at Francis, who was miraculously not too busy grabbing his rucksack to snort a laugh at him.

“Still, it wouldn't kill you to have better taste. English beer? Really? I could accept German beer at least.”

“Yeah, and what do you—”

“Arthur, if you don’t get over here, I’m climbing this fence without you,” Gabriel smirked, “and we both know you’re too small to climb on your own.”

“Asshole, one day I’ll catch up to you!” Arthur stepped on Gabriel’s hands as the boy boosted him up, clambering onto the fence, sitting atop it and looking back down at Gabriel, “you sure you’re still alright getting up here?”

Gabriel smile, “Of course, unlike you two, I can actually reach the top of the fence.”

Asshole.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: England/France/Portugal (Hetalia) Characters: England (Hetalia), France (Hetalia), Portugal (Hetalia) Additional Tags: Painter AU, Sad with a Happy Ending, Time Period: 70s/80s Summary:

@hetalia-polyship-week 

Prompt:  Musicals || “Thank god that I’m not you”

Rating: T

Ship: GerFrukPort

Word Count: 1243

Author’s Note: This is based on an au we discussed in my gereng server where engportfra are actors all pursuing set builder Ludwig while also being in a throuple themselves. Also, I like to think Francis uses he/they pronouns so I switch between those pronouns.

Curtain Call

The wings of the stage were buzzing with energy, for in a mere few hours, the curtains would rise, and the open night would commence. Ludwig put the final nail in the window frame he had been working on. At least it had fallen apart during the dress rehearsal and not the actual show. He just had to oil the wheels on one of the moving set pieces and check the other two to make sure they were still in working order, then they’d be good to go. 

Hopefully, with the show coming to an end, Ludwig would finally be free of all the confusing feelings that had arisen during production. The thought was both a relief, but it also kind of hurt. To have three actors pursuing you definitely was overwhelming and made Ludwig’s job a lot harder, it was nice to be the center of attention for once, and over this time, he got to know his three suitors; he would miss them when they all went their separate ways. 

He’d miss Arthur's nagging. Although it was annoying at times, it was nice to know someone cared enough to bring him water and make sure he was eating. He’d miss the way Arthur’s eyes would light up as he tried too hard to hide his smiles behind scowls. And most of all he’d miss the subtle compliments and flirty remarks that would rival the language used by poets of the past.

He’d miss Francis’s affection the most, he thinks. The way they’d hang off Ludwig as if it was the most normal thing in the world, how they would always greet him with a warm embrace and part with one even warmer. He’d miss the way Francis’s curls framed their face perfectly, always appearing so soft to the touch (but Ludwig would now never know if that was true). And though he was often overwhelmed by Francis’s forwardness when it came to flirting, he did appreciate the food they made, and he’d be lying if he said Francis’s compliments hadn’t boosted his confidence ever so slightly.

Lastly, he’d miss Afonso’s calmness. The way he could remain relaxed yet level-headed during even the most stressful situations and the way he would comfort Ludwig in the carpenter’s own stress. He’d miss the sweet, gentle nothings Afonso would occasionally whisper when Ludwig was burnt out and needed the pick-me-up. But the most he would miss the rare sight of Afonso focused: tightly knit brows, spark in his eye as he looked over his scripts, pulling any and all information to boost his performance.

As Ludwig pulled away from the last squeaky wheel, he came face to face with the three actors who had been consuming his thoughts. 

Arthur was dressed in a fiery red coat that just reached his knees, with golden stitching along the edges. Golden chains and earrings, striking red eyeshadow, and dark eyeliner accented the outfit. A leather corset wrapped around his middle gave the otherwise fearsome look an alluring aura. To top it all off, a pirate cap adorned with pale feathers. An outfit befitting of both a seductive yet dangerous pirate captain. 

Francis in turn was fitting in a frilly blouse and a pale blue coat that reached the floor. It was as if the stars had been taken and threaded into the fabric itself with the way it glittered with every small movement. His hat was a greyish white, decorated with dried flowers instead of the traditional feathers. He was dripping in jewelry and gems: earrings, necklaces, bracelets, all of which matched Francis’s eyes. The sparkly look was complete with purple eyeshadow with a hint of glitter. He looked like royalty despite being a mere pirate captain. 

Afonso was dressed in a nobleman’s coat. Darker green vine patterns wrapped around the torso and sleeves, meeting with the silver stitched pattern on the edge of the collars and cuffs. His hair was tied back by a matching ribbon, giving a clear view of his face. His natural features were amplified by simple makeup instead of the brightly coloured blends of Arthur and Francis, yet he was nonetheless beautiful. An elegant nobleman if there ever was one. 

Ludwig felt his whole face burn seeing them decked out in their costumes. All he could do was stare, unable to form a coherent thought in their presence. It was as if he was back to the very first time the three had begun flirting with him.  

Francis’s giggling shook Ludwig from his daze. Arthur shoved the Frenchman. “What?” Francis asked with feigned offense, “He probably thinks we look pretty. So much so he’s been left speechless.”

“Or he’s thinking: ‘thank god I’m not you,’” Arthur shot back, gesturing to the other’s costume. “You’re going to melt under all those damn frills.” 

“Aw are you concerned mon amour?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red, but if looks could kill, that glare would have ended Francis on the spot. Luckily before things could escalate. Afonso stepped between the two. “Now, now, meus amores, we have more important business here right? We’re going to scare him off like this.”

Wait… ‘mon amour’ and ‘meus amores’? Ludwig may not have been well versed in French or Portuguese, but he knew Italian well, and those sounded like…

“So…” Afonso went on, “I don’t know if you’ve realized what we’ve been trying to do, but with us parting ways soon, we’ve decided to just come out as say…”

“We love you,” Francis continued. 

“All of us,” Arthur added.

“Romantically,” Afonso concluded for clarity. 

So they did fancy him. It was quite obvious to everyone (including Ludwig) that these three actors had liked him romantically, but hearing it laid out so clearly still made Ludwig’s head spin. Perhaps part of the shock came from the fact that it appeared all three of the actors were dating as well. “Wait…Are all of you…”

“Together?” Francis finished for him, “Yes. Yes, we are.” To prove the point he took Afonso’s hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t know sooner, it’s all over the tabloids,” Arthur noted. 

“But what we are trying to get at is that we want to invite you into it,” Afonso explained. 

Ludwig awkwardly opened and closed his mouth, trying to find what he wanted to say. It was a dream come true. Over this production, he had fallen in love with all three of them and couldn’t bear to choose only one of them. But with this revelation, he could have it all, and everyone would be happy. 

“Love,” Arthur spoke softly, stepping forward to put a hand on Ludwig’s arm. “You don’t have to make a decision now. You’ve got time to think. We just wanted–”

“I’d love to,” Ludwig blurted out. His blush surely darkened as he realized how desperate he sounded. “I-I mean…I’d like that…I have feelings for all of you so…”

The three actors looked at Ludwig with wide eyes. “Well then…guess it’s settled,” Francis said with an amused huff. “Perhaps we can have dinner after the show tonight.”

Ludwig nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. 

“Ten minutes till curtain,” someone shouted in the distance. 

“Well I guess this is farewell until intermission,” Arthur sighed.

England: it wasn’t French

France: what? Yes it was

England: it wasn’t, it was Anglo-Norman

France: THAT’S FRENCH

England: NO IT ISN’T

Portugal: