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piecesofalice Oct. 22nd, 2009 11:24 pm)
piecesofalice Oct. 22nd, 2009 11:24 pm)I had to get these two out of my system before even attempting anything else resembling fic, mainly because I refuse to believe they didn't do it at least once. Even if it makes no sense, timeline wise.
Look at them. Totally did it.
TITLE: An Englishman Never Assumes, He Simply Makes Sure
FANDOM: Inglourious Basterds (Lt. Archie Hicox/Bridget Von Hammersmark)
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: T'ain't mine. They're QT's.
An Englishman Never Assumes, He Simply Makes Sure
Inglourious Basterds-verse, 22nd October 2009
---
Your sweet face seems
To haunt my dreams
'Lili Marlene'
---
When told of his involvement, she insisted they meet before the rendezvous.
"I must know your face, Mr. Hicox, so to make it seem like we are old friends to even the most suspicious of men."
But she was an actress, he thought later, and a rather good one, and she insisted on calling him 'mister' because, as she put it in the most darling of terms, "my English is terrible, ruined" - still, he gathered his things and dressed in civilian garb and headed towards the tiny provincial hotel, the best and the worst of scenarios playing and suddenly, he needed a cigarette and a good, stiff brandy.
---
He was a gentleman, and gentlemen knock, his fist light against the dark wood door; surprised (slightly, he was an Englishman after all, and the English were never surprised) when she flung it open like she had been waiting for the sound.
She looked like snow after summer. Her hair was up, her neck dipping at the nape, a copy of some long-forgotten literature in one hand and a smoke in the other that seemed to work around her like a well-planned mise-en-scene.
"Miss Von Hammersmark, I presume?"
"Mr. Hicox."
"Lieutenant, m'am. Or Archie, rather - whichever's more to your liking."
She smiles, and takes a drag, leaving blood-red stain on the end before stepping aside to allow him access to the room.
"Then you must call me Bridget."
He hears Big Ben's chimes right in the back of his head and it's suddenly - not entirely - all for England and he's entirely - suddenly - certain he's not getting out of this room in one piece.
For England!, and the door closes behind him like a punctuation mark.
---
"It will be very dangerous, no?" Because she's trying to speak in the Queen's English and everything's punctuated with an affirmative negative, like she almost expects him to praise her for the correct turn of phrase.
"You're quite the famous lady, Bridget, and I'm jolly well hoping it to be a rather easy time for you."
She seems disappointed at this, for some reason, and he imagines her holding an Army issue pistol in front of her, the tip of it grazing her thighs and he decides it's much easier to think of the Prime Minister and the gin and soda she's presenting him instead.
"My apologies for not having any whiskey, Lieutenant," and she turns away from him to lie on the bed, almost like a sulking child but more like Louise Brooks in Pandora's Box and he can't help but smirk.
"Now, now, Miss Von Hammersmark - I do think you'll see a little action."
And it's here that she's suddenly on him, her mouth pressing against his and he can taste the sweet cake she'd had for afternoon tea; and it's suddenly long past gentlemanly and well towards debaucherous.
"I read your books."
"Did you now."
The coat he'd had bespoked landed on the floor, her slight breath of a dressing gown following, her legs pressing against him and the lips of a world famous actress at his ear.
"I like to know who I am with."
"Well, I rather think that's a good stance to take, considering."
The tail of the curtain blowing behind her, blending into the fabric from her day dress as he slipped it over her head, her red nails contrasting nastily against the white herringbone of his shirt.
"You were rather mean to some of my films."
"Was I now."
He thinks of the pistol, and it's here he stands up into her, lifts her and places her on the bed; his mouth running down her neck, through her breasts, across her stomach and she's squirming in a most unladylike way.
"You should make it up to me, no?"
Affirmative, Lieutenant.
They pause for a second and he moves his hands slightly under her ribcage, her hair falling behind onto the oh-so-French bedspread and over her eyes, breath uneven as she seems to be challenging him in the most delightful of ways.
He smirks and raises and eyebrow.
"Well, I'd best be getting on with it, then."
---
Fin.
---
It should be noted for prosperity that I did not once use "jolly good, ol' chap!" or "pip, pip, captain!" anywhere in this fic, nor did Archie suddenly have a monocle that fell out in surprise as he exclaimed "I SAY, OLD BEAN!" Despite wanting to, really badly.
(Don't worry, Shosanna and Fredrick! I have forgotten you not!)
Look at them. Totally did it.
TITLE: An Englishman Never Assumes, He Simply Makes Sure
FANDOM: Inglourious Basterds (Lt. Archie Hicox/Bridget Von Hammersmark)
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: T'ain't mine. They're QT's.
An Englishman Never Assumes, He Simply Makes Sure
Inglourious Basterds-verse, 22nd October 2009
---
Your sweet face seems
To haunt my dreams
'Lili Marlene'
---
When told of his involvement, she insisted they meet before the rendezvous.
"I must know your face, Mr. Hicox, so to make it seem like we are old friends to even the most suspicious of men."
But she was an actress, he thought later, and a rather good one, and she insisted on calling him 'mister' because, as she put it in the most darling of terms, "my English is terrible, ruined" - still, he gathered his things and dressed in civilian garb and headed towards the tiny provincial hotel, the best and the worst of scenarios playing and suddenly, he needed a cigarette and a good, stiff brandy.
---
He was a gentleman, and gentlemen knock, his fist light against the dark wood door; surprised (slightly, he was an Englishman after all, and the English were never surprised) when she flung it open like she had been waiting for the sound.
She looked like snow after summer. Her hair was up, her neck dipping at the nape, a copy of some long-forgotten literature in one hand and a smoke in the other that seemed to work around her like a well-planned mise-en-scene.
"Miss Von Hammersmark, I presume?"
"Mr. Hicox."
"Lieutenant, m'am. Or Archie, rather - whichever's more to your liking."
She smiles, and takes a drag, leaving blood-red stain on the end before stepping aside to allow him access to the room.
"Then you must call me Bridget."
He hears Big Ben's chimes right in the back of his head and it's suddenly - not entirely - all for England and he's entirely - suddenly - certain he's not getting out of this room in one piece.
For England!, and the door closes behind him like a punctuation mark.
---
"It will be very dangerous, no?" Because she's trying to speak in the Queen's English and everything's punctuated with an affirmative negative, like she almost expects him to praise her for the correct turn of phrase.
"You're quite the famous lady, Bridget, and I'm jolly well hoping it to be a rather easy time for you."
She seems disappointed at this, for some reason, and he imagines her holding an Army issue pistol in front of her, the tip of it grazing her thighs and he decides it's much easier to think of the Prime Minister and the gin and soda she's presenting him instead.
"My apologies for not having any whiskey, Lieutenant," and she turns away from him to lie on the bed, almost like a sulking child but more like Louise Brooks in Pandora's Box and he can't help but smirk.
"Now, now, Miss Von Hammersmark - I do think you'll see a little action."
And it's here that she's suddenly on him, her mouth pressing against his and he can taste the sweet cake she'd had for afternoon tea; and it's suddenly long past gentlemanly and well towards debaucherous.
"I read your books."
"Did you now."
The coat he'd had bespoked landed on the floor, her slight breath of a dressing gown following, her legs pressing against him and the lips of a world famous actress at his ear.
"I like to know who I am with."
"Well, I rather think that's a good stance to take, considering."
The tail of the curtain blowing behind her, blending into the fabric from her day dress as he slipped it over her head, her red nails contrasting nastily against the white herringbone of his shirt.
"You were rather mean to some of my films."
"Was I now."
He thinks of the pistol, and it's here he stands up into her, lifts her and places her on the bed; his mouth running down her neck, through her breasts, across her stomach and she's squirming in a most unladylike way.
"You should make it up to me, no?"
Affirmative, Lieutenant.
They pause for a second and he moves his hands slightly under her ribcage, her hair falling behind onto the oh-so-French bedspread and over her eyes, breath uneven as she seems to be challenging him in the most delightful of ways.
He smirks and raises and eyebrow.
"Well, I'd best be getting on with it, then."
---
Fin.
---
It should be noted for prosperity that I did not once use "jolly good, ol' chap!" or "pip, pip, captain!" anywhere in this fic, nor did Archie suddenly have a monocle that fell out in surprise as he exclaimed "I SAY, OLD BEAN!" Despite wanting to, really badly.
(Don't worry, Shosanna and Fredrick! I have forgotten you not!)
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From:
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She seems disappointed at this, for some reason, and he imagines her holding an Army issue pistol in front of her, the tip of it grazing her thighs and he decides it's much easier to think of the Prime Minister and the gin and soda she's presenting him instead.
This is hot and Archie is such a dirty boy.
"Well, I'd best be getting on with it, then."
*Incoherent noises*
From:
no subject
I wondered if it was short/didn't have a plot/went from whoa to go, then I realised I didn't care and HOORAY FOR ARCHIE/BRIDGET!
(Fassy/Diane? Oh god, now I ship her with everything)From:
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ARCHIE AND BRIDGET SHOULD DOUBLE-DATE WITH SHOSANNA AND FREDRICK, Y/Y? THEY COULD TEACH THOSE TWO KIDS HOW TO LOOSEN UP AND HAVE FUN. I can picture Bridget riding on the handlebars of Archie's bicycle and they're laughing it up, trailed by Shosanna and Fredrick who are trying to deny their attraction and Fredrick is sad because his balloon flew away.
I approve of Fassy/Diane, too. Til won't mind!
From:
no subject
And QT's totes here, telling me all the awesome film references to put in. "Mention uhhhhh...Mudhoney! Yeah! It's, like, this totally fucking awesome 60's film with boobs and shit and..."QT. Shhh."
Bridget on Archie's bike (to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head"?) made me go like this:
Fred and Balloon:
(but sekritly :D, because Shosanna would get him another one and they'd both bicker about holding it whilst their hearts were growing large with love.)
From:
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QT's going on about boobs and feet and trying to find some way for you to squeeze in his OTP. You tell him to shush and he manages to mention, "Romeo and Juliet!" for the billionth time.
Bridget on Archie's bike (to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head"?)
Yes! And Archie will have that huge Fassy grin on his face the whole time ♥
(but sekritly :D, because Shosanna would get him another one and they'd both bicker about holding it whilst their hearts were growing large with love.)
And she'd totally pretend that their afternoon is such an inconvenience, but as she observes him enjoying the balloon, Un Amico starts playing in the background...
David Bowie would be there too, selling balloons in the park and trying to work music from Labyrinth in whilst QT rambles at him about Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence.
From:
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FREDRICK: "I'm going in for the arm-over..."
SHOSANNA: "GTFO"
BRIDGET & ARCHIE: "Ha ha ha! We are young and carefree and enjoy tennis!"
Okay, David Bowie and QT as balloon sellers/film ramblers? Made my night.
From:
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Shosanna secretly loves it, though. She loves it so much that she'll look at Fredrick all indignantly when he removes his arm.
Bowie and QT, as we've seen, are an unstoppable force.
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So I suppose you can take a guess at what I'm doing.
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