#wear the bodysuit if u must but if he don’t like u with it off what’s the point!

[starlooove]

It’s so funny when u ask ppl to elaborate on opinions and all the biases come out

[jostepherjoestar]

What would happen if the child La Squadra member one day dressed up as one of them?

Lemme just😭😭because that’s so cute ok!! thank u for continuing our lovely child’s escapades 💖✨ u asked for one but u get all of them muahaha

All of La Squadra is a bit baffled at first, where did they get those clothes? And why are they absolutely working it in them? Of course this kid doesn’t get paid in skittles, earning their money just like the rest and spending it accordingly. I feel like they’ve developed their own sense of humour and likes to surprise their teammates with it. I still don’t think the kid likes to talk too much but they love showing off their humour in unexpected ways. Just like today, they pulled Risotto close and whispered in his ear “Meeting please. In the living room.” Risotto was confused but curious to see what they were planning.

Once everyone was seated and cramped on the couch, Risotto standing and leaning against the wall, he announced that their youngest member had called the meeting. Without much wait the child’s stand appeared, carrying a stereo of sorts. They put it down and gently pressed the play button, classical music filling the room. The group of men were quite baffled, some anticipatory chuckles erupting at the dramatics.  

And out stepped the kid, clad in in stripy pants, a jingling hat and the constructed top Risotto always wore. The combination of the stoic kid and the classical music that kept building made the team members laugh in amazement. The kid walked over and posed silently in front of them, pointing finger guns at them. “Where did you learn that?” Risotto asked while chuckling. He couldn’t help but smile at the display, the kid looked cool in his outfit and honestly he was just impressed by their performance.

Then they returned in Formaggio’s outfit, imitating his walk, strolling up to the couch again. “Hey I don’t walk like that!” Formaggio yelled as the rest of the crew laughed, Illuso complementing the kid for actually pulling off the look, which irritated Formaggio “Oh so them you complement? Asshole.” he crossed his arms in reply (don’t worry Formaggio loved the show). Next was Illuso’s outfit, the kid came and walked in confidence, dare I say strutted? “See how good that outfit is? If only more of you dressed like that.” he huffed at his teammates while giving the kid an approving wink.

Next were Prosciutto and Pesci’s outfits. To everyone’s surprise the kid had worn Pesci’s bodysuit under Prosciutto’s suit, revealing it once he did a pose, pulling at the collar of the jacket in front of Prosciutto. He gave them a quiet chuckle but he was melting on the inside, they were just very adorable, a big P swinging around their neck. While showing off Pesci’s outfit they quietly stood there while Pesci got redder and redder. He was finally warming up to the kid and thought it kind of funny to see them express themself in this nice event.

Melone and Ghiaccio were next, Ghiaccio already dreading the nearing of the kid wearing his outfit. The kid carefully walked in with Melone’s outfit, Melone looked a bit embarrassed for once, his cheeks a bit rosy realising how ridiculous his outfit must look to strangers. But he thought it was cute to see the kid having a more modest take on his usual fit. Last but not least it was time for Ghiaccio’s reveal. His knee was angrily bumping up and down already. They stepped out, walking towards the outfits respective owner, not really posing, the kid knew Ghiaccio wouldn’t like it. But the way they looked so cute with the red glasses and matching shoes, Ghiaccio turned a bit blushy. Ok maybe the kid is nice and adorable pfft. “Are we done now?” he huffed trying to turn attention away from himself.

The crew clapped at the kids beautiful and sudden fashion show, the music ending just in time as well. No group hug here tho :( but as the men left the room they gave the kid appreciative head and shoulder pats, telling them how nice it was to share a happier moment together.

[honeycombcal]

Clichés - C.H. (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader

Words: 3576

Warnings: Language, slight mention of anxiety

AN: Here it is, part 2! I hope you guys enjoy it, I wanted to add a little bit of angst but of course end with fluff fluff f l u f f. I hope the ending doesn’t seem rushed, it’s almost 3 in the morning when I’m posting this lmao. If you like this, I take requests if you have any! xx (gif does not belong to me, credits go to whoever made it)

Part 1 Part 3

“You gotta wear it,” Brittany urged, thrusting the article of clothing toward you once more.

You huffed, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and lightly pressing your teeth down. You looked it over again, the black bodysuit sparking nerves in your stomach. The front plunged lower than anything else you owned, the back nonexistent. You never went out so you didn’t have any ‘going out’ clothes other than this one piece, and you began to wonder what the hell you were thinking buying it in the first place.

“I don’t know, Britt,” you muttered, taking the bodysuit in your hands. It was a soft material, and you remember feeling comfortable and, surprisingly, confident in it when you had tried it on in the store. It hugged your body in all the right places, and the dark washed, ripped jeans you had bought to tuck it into made you feel like a runway model. Looking at the piece of cloth now, you felt your confidence level sinking to the floor.

“I don’t want him to get the wrong idea,” you continued, making Brittany scoff.

“What idea? That you’re hot and totally in love with him?” she teased, flopping down onto your bed. You groaned, rolling your eyes at your roommate.

“Not in love with him!” you retorted, throwing the bodysuit at her and rushing to your adjoining bathroom before she could whip it back at you.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing the girl- no, woman- looking back at you. Her hair was curled into perfect, glossy waves. Her eyes were smokey and not hidden by her normal big glasses. She glowed in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“It’ll be a miracle if he even recognizes me,” you called to her, fidgeting with your hair. You hear your roommate chuckle before she pads into your bathroom, looking at you in the mirror.

“You look amazing, but I think he’s into you for more than just your looks. Humor me and wear the bodysuit. You can always bring a sweater to throw over it if you start to feel uncomfortable,” she spoke softly, her eyes meeting yours. You pursed your lips before finally relenting, nodding and going back into your bedroom to get dressed.

Your phone buzzed on your bedside table, catching your attention as you pulled your jeans up, wiggling around to get them to sit on your hips just right. You pulled the zipper up as you walked to your phone where it charged, bringing the button through its slit as you bent your head to read the text that had popped up on the screen.

Calum Hood: just checking in to make sure you don’t ditch tonight to study how paint dries… see you soon x

You couldn’t help but snort at the first half of his text, and swoon at the ‘x’ he’d signed it with. You wanted to scold yourself for getting so worked up over a boy, but Calum Hood just wasn’t like any other boy.

“Don’t make me drag you up there because I will,” Brittany threatened, turning in the driver’s seat to give you a pointed look.

Dread was slowly starting to flood your stomach as you looked over Britt’s shoulder to the house. Some people were milling about outside in the yard, some were playing a game of beer pong on the porch, but it was clear that the inside of the house was packed. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, your mouth all of a sudden feeling very dry.

“I can’t do this,” you breathe, your panic stricken eyes meeting your roommate’s now soft ones. Brittany placed her hands on your bare shoulders.

“Hey, yes you can. You are smart, and beautiful, and more than capable of going into some dumb party,” she reassured you. You swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in your throat as your gaze shifted back towards the grey house.

“Why can’t you come with me,” you whined, which earned you a giggle from Brittany.

“I actually have studying I have to do so that chem test doesn’t kick my ass on Monday. I believe in you, and if you’re still freaked out after 20 minutes, call me and I’ll come right back. Okay?” she spoke softly, ducking her head to get you to meet her eyes. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded slowly.

“Deep breaths,” she encouraged, taking a deep breath herself so that you would do the same. You both took three deep breaths before you opened the door.

“Be safe, have fun! Love you!” Britt chirped, making you smile and blow her a kiss before shutting the car door. She waited for you to follow the path up to the house before driving off.

Your eyes darted to the people outside, even though you knew you wouldn’t know anyone. You were caught off guard when you heard a low whistle, your head whipping to the general direction that you heard it. You were used to being invisible, and you didn’t mind it. You fidgeted with your jacket, having opted for a red suede one rather than a boring cardigan. Your booties clicked on the pavement as you approached the house, the bass of the music growing increasingly louder. You lingered by the door, hesitating, before turning the doorknob.

The temperature inside the house was sweltering compared to the frigid air outside. You shut the door, eyes wide as you took everything in. To your right was the living room, packed with bodies and smelling of alcohol and- was that weed? The hallway in front of you lead to what you assumed would be the kitchen, and the stairs to your left must lead to where the bedrooms are. You were beginning to wonder why the hell you hadn’t texted Calum to let him know you were here. You wandered into the living room, glancing around the faces you didn’t recognize in hopes of seeing him.

Your heart began to race as anxious thoughts started to flood your mind. You chewed on your lip as you pushed through everyone, making your way into the dining room where it looked like people were playing some other kind of drinking game you didn’t know. You tried desperately to control your rapid breathing, turning to go back into the living room when you saw him.

He looked amazing. The simple black t-shirt he wore seemed to strain against his biceps, his tattoos a stark contrast to his golden skin. His black jeans were tight, showcasing his muscular legs. His dark hair looked softer than ever, the curls resting against his forehead. His long fingers were wrapped around a red solo cup, and he was laughing at something someone said. You looked to see it was Hemmings, from the soccer game. He caught your gaze almost immediately, making your face heat as he nudged Calum. Cal’s eyebrows raised before turning in your direction, doing a double take before his eyes widened just enough for you to notice. His plump lips parted slightly, his dark eyes scanning your body before you finally mustered enough courage to join them.

“Hey,” you breathed, feeling awkward and out of place. Calum gave you a smile, one that made your heart almost beat of your chest.

“Y/N, wow, I almost didn’t recognize you! You look amazing,” he praised, wrapping his arms around you. You returned his hug and rested your head in the crook of his neck, his scent making you feel at home.

“Yeah well, I’m already so far out of my comfort zone I thought I might as well switch it up a little bit,” you giggled, pulling away. Calum chuckled.

“Oh, Y/N, this is Luke Hemmings, my teammate and one of my roommates,” Calum introduced you to the blonde boy, seemingly remembering his friend was still standing there.

“Hemmings, yeah, that was a nice assist you had today,” you smiled, hoping to impress the guys on your terminology. It seemed to work, as Luke’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hey thanks, I’m actually kinda surprised you know what that is,” Luke chuckled.

“You should’ve heard her at the game, she was yelling about that douchebag holding my jersey!” Calum chimed in, making you blush.

“Well, I had to study something today,” you shrugged, making the guys laugh.

“I’ll have to test your knowledge some other time, then,” Calum teased, winking at you. You pursed your lips but nodded, going along with it. Your knowledge of soccer was still limited, but you were hoping you had enough time to learn more before Calum grilled you about it.

“Hey, Cal, you always said you can never hear anything the crowd yells. Remember that one time, that guy was heckling-” Luke started, Calum’s death glare promptly cutting him off. You felt your face heat at the fact that Calum had heard you during his game, but you decided to let him off easy.

“So, how many other guys live here?” you asked, remembering that Calum had said that Luke was one of his roommates.

“Two others, Michael and Ashton. They should be around here somewhere-”

“Cal!” a high pitched voice called, interrupting him. A beautiful girl bounced to his side, her eyes gleaming as she caught Calum’s attention, her hands wrapping around his bicep.

“Hey, Nicki-” Calum started to greet her, but she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the stairs.

“Come with me,” she insisted, giving him a beautiful smile.

It felt like your heart had sank to your stomach. Did you actually think that Calum was interested in you romantically? He was way out of your league; you were just some girl he sat next to in class. He probably just felt bad for you and that’s why he invited you out tonight.

Calum glanced at Luke before looking at you, his eyes searching your face. You tried your best to smile at him, nodding that it was okay. He still seemed reluctant as Nicki practically dragged him away.

“That should be interesting,” Luke huffed, bringing his cup to his lips. Your gaze shifted from where Calum had just been to Luke.

“What do you mean?” you asked, hoping you weren’t coming off as nosy.

“Nicki’s his ex,” Luke sighed, his face scrunching up to show his distaste of the beautiful girl.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your heart all the way in the basement now.

“She’s psycho. They broke up around the beginning of the semester but she won’t leave him alone,” he gossiped, your eyebrows raising at the information.

“Why’d they break up?” You didn’t care if you were coming off nosy now,

“She cheated on him with some football player. He can’t stand her but for some reason she just keeps showing up. Probably doesn’t help that he still hooks up with her every now and then,” Luke muttered, downing the rest of his drink. You felt your mouth pop open at that last sentence, feeling your heart shatter into pieces.

“I’m gonna go get a refill, you want anything?” he asked you, oblivious to the heartbreak he had just inflicted on you. You merely shook your head, not able to speak before Luke went off to the kitchen.

You stood there, in that crowded room, feeling utterly alone. The boy you had come here to see, the one that you had fallen so hard for over these past few months, had been pulled upstairs by his ex right in front of you. You were mortified. Unshed tears began to burn your eyes, your throat dry. It felt as though the walls were closing in on you; people kept brushing against you, some softly and some with more force, sending your senses into overdrive. You had to get out of here.

You pushed your way through the crowd, making your way to the door. You slammed it shut behind you, the cool air welcoming on your burning skin. You ignored the stares the party goers outside gave you, rushing down the path toward the street and beginning to walk. You should probably call Brittany, but you didn’t want to have to tell her what happened. You recognized where you were on campus, and you knew there were a slew of bars and shops just up the street.

You hugged your arms around yourself, the wind unforgiving. Your mind raced, a million thoughts jumbled around in your brain. Why had he invited you out tonight? Why had he given you his jersey to wear? Was he just being friendly and you took it the wrong way? You felt like an idiot. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve, and it had always bitten you in the ass; this time was clearly no different.

You had made it into town, your eyes scanning the storefronts. One caught your eye, a neon sign in cursive blinking “The Lib”. You decided to check it out, opening the door. A bell tinkled somewhere, an alert that someone was here. You’d never heard of this place before, your eyes scanning the small bar. A red, almost pink, glow was cast inside and the wall to your right was lined with books. Further down the wall was where a quaint bar was nestled, a small woman standing behind it cleaning some glasses. The left wall had all kinds of posters and pieces of art decorating it, a stage adorning the back corner. They must have live music in here some nights, but tonight was dead. You were the only person there, so you approached the bar slowly.

“Hiya hun, what can I get ya?” the woman asked you, her smile warm and inviting. Her wavy dirty blonde hair was cut into a stylish bob, framing her face perfectly. She had delicate features, and she reminded you of a pixie. You liked her immediately.

“Can I get a vodka sprite?” you asked, showing her your ID. She waved you away and nodded, beginning to make your drink.

“What brings you in all by your lonesome on a Saturday night?” she inquired, seemingly genuine. You sighed, taking a seat at the bar.

“Clichés,” you muttered, making her eyebrows raise as she handed you your drink.

“What do you mean?” she cocked her head, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“This guy is way out of my league and I should’ve known better,” you gave her the short version, taking a sip of your drink and wincing.

“Out of your league? I’m sorry, but have ya looked in the mirror lately?! You are stunning,” she complimented, making you smile.

“I don’t always look like this,” you laughed. If only she could see you during the week. She scoffed, going to wipe the bar down on the opposite end.

“I didn't catch your name?” you asked her, and she gave you a friendly smile.

“Mickie. I own the bar,” she told you. You nodded in appreciation.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N. I really love how you incorporated the book wall,” you tell her earnestly. This could easily become one of your new favorite spots.

“Well I’m glad someone does! I just love everything nerdy I guess, so having a book wall and a bunch of art and live music just felt right to me,” she shrugged, coming back down to stand in front of you.

“I’m a nerd right there with ya,” you giggled, making her smile.

The bell chimed overhead, signaling that someone else was here. You looked to the door and felt your heart in your throat as Calum walked towards you.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he breathed. You glanced at Mickie as she looked at Calum and back at you.

“I’ll be in the back if you need anything,” she told you, giving you some privacy. You nodded, going to take another sip of your drink before you remembered she hadn’t charged you.

“Wait! How much-?”

“On the house!” she called over her shoulder.

Calum settled in on the stool next to you, his body facing you as you faced the bar.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” you murmured, fiddling with your straw.

“I played a gig with my band here last week. Reminded me of you,” he responded softly, making your insides liquify. He’s in a band? Is there anything he can’t do?

“Why’d you run off?” he asked, and you could feel his gaze searching your face. You rolled your lips into your mouth, head dropping to stare at your lap.

“You seemed otherwise… preoccupied. And I didn’t know anyone else,” you shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant. You stole a glance at Calum, his face full of concern.

“I definitely wouldn’t say I was preoccupied… more like ambushed,” he chuckled, but stopped once you didn’t join in.

“It’s okay, Luke told me,” you reassured, leaning forward to take a long sip of your drink. You could feel your body warming thanks to the drink, your tolerance practically nonexistent.

“Luke told you what?” Calum prompted, searching your face.

“About Nicki. And you. You and Nicki. It’s okay, I don’t want to interfere-” you began, but Calum quickly shut you down.

“Woah woah woah, okay, slow down. Clearly he had more to drink than I thought,” Calum huffed, you finally deciding to meet his gaze.

“There is no ‘me and Nicki’. She cheated on me before school started, I broke up with her, we hooked up once a few days after, and that was that. She always shows up to parties that I’m at and it drives me up the fucking wall,” he explained, unknowingly piecing your heart back together.

“I’m pretty sure she tells people that we still mess around to keep other girls from talking to me. But you’re not just any girl,” he continued, taking your hand. Your heart, now fully repaired, threatened to beat right out of your chest.

“I love that you are so lowkey. You keep to yourself, and it’s adorable, but there’s so much… innocence to it, for lack of a better word. You’re untouched by all the shitty drama that goes on in my life, and you’re just… like a breath of fresh air,” he breathed the last part. You felt your lips tug into a smile at his words.

“I’ve loved getting to know you these past few months. I’ve loved spending time with you, learning what you like and dislike, and pretending that I need your notes,” he winks before continuing. “I love that you went so far out of your comfort zone tonight, and I loved seeing you in my jersey at the game. You look beautiful tonight, but I love seeing you in your glasses too.”

“Where are you going with this, Hood?” you breathed, unsure if this was real life or if you had picked up a romance book off of the shelves of The Lib and were reading that instead. Calum chuckled, squeezing your hand.

“Nicki is no one you should worry about. She saw me talking to you and tried to scare you off, which I guess worked, but I wasn’t gonna let her win. I really like you, Y/N,” he admitted, his free hand coming up to brush your cheek. You felt your breath catch in your throat, time seemingly standing still.

“You do?” you squeaked, his face breaking out in a grin that made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

“I don’t know how to make it any more obvious,” he teased, making you giggle.

“I’m book smart, but I never said anything about street smart,” you fired back, making him chuckle.

“I’ll have to tutor you sometime,” he shrugged.

“If you could find time in your busy schedule, I would be so honored,” you pretended to swoon, his eyes narrowing but a smirk played on his plump lips.

“You wanna chill here the rest of the night?” he asked, his thumb rubbing circles absentmindedly on your hand. You gave him a soft smile and nodded, loving the atmosphere of the empty bar more than any packed party.

“On one condition,” he stated.

“Yeah?”

“You have to come to the rest of my soccer games this season,” he gave you a shy smile. 

“I wouldn’t dream of missing them.”

Something shifted in the expression on Calum’s face, and before you knew it, he was leaning in closer to you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his soft lips to yours, his hands coming up to hold your face. It was a soft kiss, nothing rushed or sensual about it, but it was perfect.

He pulled away, and if everything in the bar wasn’t already washed in a red glow, you would’ve sworn that his cheeks were tinted pink. You gave him a reassuring smile, leaning back to kiss his cheek as Mickie appeared from the back.

“Hey, Cal,” she greeted him, your eyes widening.

“What? He’s amazing at the piano, and a killer bassist,” she shrugs, making you giggle and Calum laugh. You made a mental note to ask when his next gig was so you could go to all of those as well.

You were typically a homebody, but with Calum, you could feel that all beginning to change. And you had no complaints, thankful for the cliché that seemed to work out in your favor just like in the books that lined the walls.

taglist: @rexorangecouny @flowerchild8341 @therainydays4

[blackbeltkitten2ficsnships-blog]

Bad, bad Alphonse Capone (Chapter 11)

Cher soldat.

Fandom/Movie/Series/Ect: Night At The Museum

Setting: Larry is still the night guard, several exhibits from the Smithsonian are at the Museum of Natural History

Pairing(s): Eventual Capoleon, Jedtavius, Teddy/Sacagawea

Characters: Al Capone, Napoleon Bonaparte, Ivan the Terrible (Awesome), Larry Daley, Teddy Roosevelt, Sacagawea, Jedediah Smith, Octavius, Ahkmenrah, Shaka Zulu, several Zulu tribe members, Dr. Richard McPhee, several Mobsters, Antonio Villalobos, Mariana Villalobos, Ramón Espina, Doctor Jess McClain, Docteur Alain Chaput, Claude Travere

Genre/Warnings: Some slightly graphic violence, Foul language, Fic inspired by a song, I’ll come up with more tags later

Notes: I listened to the song “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” by Jim Croce about a thousand times and decided I just HAD to make a fic.  The reason Al and the boys get made into color (as a plot point) is so everyone can see what happens to Al.

If anyone is OOC or this reads like a Dick & Jane, this is my second posted fic and I haven’t done much writing in the NATM field. (Disclaimer: I don’t own the song, nor the characters.) (If anything suddenly changes, I had to fix a mistake I missed.)

The title’s translation is “Dear soldier.”

I’m sorry it took so so long to update but I lost my motivation there for a bit, and I finally forced myself to finish this chapter and begin on the next one!

I proofread this thing what feels like five times and I’m honestly so done with it, just message me/comment if you notice any mistakes.

Word count: 1,495

Summary: Al and the boys practically beg (Though they won’t stoop so far as to say they were actually begging.) for him and his gang to be colored up like everyone else.  Finally one day they get a paint-job, despite McPhee’s ever-present paranoia; Capone and the gang being popular in grey-scale.  Several weeks after they finally get what they want, Al gets in a fight, and doesn’t come out of it well.  Luckily for him Napoleon is compassionate enough to put up with Al’s grating personality to help him.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Last Chapter

Napoleon leaves the office next to Al, and makes his way to the usual meeting room.

Napoleon had planned to meet with Frankie and Claude in the meeting room at seven, one hour before the meeting is to take place.

Napoleon and Claude find Frankie there, sitting on a stool and down to some kind of bodysuit at six forty-five.

“Set the trunk there, and return at eight.”

The trunk thunks when it hits the floor, and the soldiers march out and off down the hall.

Claude opens the trunk and pulls out a shirt.  Frankie snatches it from him.

“What’s with you French and puffy shirts, anyway?”

“Frankie, if you had been in Italy during our time, you would be wearing a shirt five times as billowy as this, count yourself lucky.”

Frankie snorts.

“If you say so, Napoleon.”

He bunches it up and almost puts it over his head before Claude manages to stop him.

“Wait, take off the...  Whatever that is you have on.”

Frankie’s eyes widen.

“Are you kiddin’?  You want me to take off my union suit?”

“Oh, so that’s what Al was talking about...  Yes.”

Frankie stares at Claude like he’s turned green.

“But...  I’ll be naked...”

Claude glances over at Napoleon and visibly bites his cheek.

“Not after you put the shirt on.”

“So you go around commando all day, every day?”

Napoleon grins when Claude makes a confused noise.

“Just take it off.”

Frankie sighs and unbuttons the union suit down to his bellybutton, pulls the sleeves off of his shoulders and puts on the billowy shirt, before unbuttoning the union suit the rest of the way and letting it fall out from underneath.

Frankie cups his hands in front of his crotch and both Napoleon and Claude have a hard time not laughing.

Claude hands him a pair of stockings and garters.

“Well I know what these are-”  He shakes the stockings in one hand.  “But not these.”  He shakes the leather garters in the other hand.

Napoleon shakes his head.

“Garters, how else will your stockings stay up?”

Frankie sighs and sits down on the stool, and pulls the stockings on, before wrapping a garter around his thigh.

“No, just below the knee, they’ll slip if you put them around your thighs.”

Frankie buckles the garters on.

Claude pulls a pair of creamy white breeches out of the trunk and hands them to Frankie, who just stares at them.

“Did anyone wear these before me?”

“No, those haven’t been worn.  You draw the tails of your shirt between your legs when tucking your shirt into your breeches, so even if they had been, no direct contact is made.”

While Frankie pulls on his breeches and buttons them, Claude buttons Frankie’s collar and buckles on his stock.

Claude hands him a pair of boots, which he pulls on.

“You are coming together, Frankie.”

“You’d think that, Napoleon.  I feel like an idiot.”

Napoleon sighs.

Claude hands him a waistcoat and coat.

While Frankie puts on and buttons the waistcoat and pulls on the coat, Claude dusts off a hat.

“Great, and a hat too, huh?  Can’t have me besmirching the French army, can you?” 

Claude tosses the hat at Frankie.

“I’m going to round up some of the men, I shall see you momentarily, Général.”

Claude bows respectfully and jogs out of the room.

“So...  Would you prefer I call you ‘Frankie’, or your whole first name while you’re a French soldier?”

Frankie sticks the hat on his head.

“Call me Frankie, Francis, or Francesco, I don’t care.”

“Francis it is.”

Napoleon sees Frankie step on another soldier’s feet again and halts everyone.

“Francis, come here a minute.”

Frankie tromps up and does his best to stand at attention.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Nah-  I mean no sir.”

Napoleon sighs.

“Francis, I mean no offence, but you’re a terrible soldier."

“That’s why I didn’t get drafted, sir.”

Napoleon points him back in line and continues drills.

Napoleon only stops drilling once Frankie gets the moves correct, mostly.

“You’ve done good today, men.  Find a group, set up your fire, and we’ll eat.”

Every soldier finds his preferred group, leaving only Frankie standing alone in the middle.

“Francis, join this group here.”

Napoleon points toward a group that always sets up in front of his and Claude’s tables.  The whole group looks between themselves and grumbles quietly.  Napoleon give them his best “Try me.” glare.

Frankie leans his gun on the wall and joins the group.

After several minutes of arguing they finally set up their fire, pull out stools, and set up the trivet.

Napoleon hears a mumble behind him and turns around to Al standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Napoleon, wanna talk?”

Napoleon dodges a few soldiers carrying his table and stool, and slips out into the hallway beside Al.

“Is there something urgent?”

“No, just wanted to talk to ya, we didn’t make much conversation while you were changing my bandages tonight.  Sorry for yellin’ at ya when the door was locked yesterday.”

“It’s alright, Alphonse.  Again I am sorry for looking into your life without asking you first.”

“I’m over it.  What all did you learn anyway?”

“The most important would be is when you accidentally insulted a woman and got slashed by her brother, and you hate being called Scarface.”

“It wasn’t much of an accident....”

Several shouts of “Join us, Général!” pulls Napoleon out of the conversation.

“I have to go, I must converse with my men.”

Al nods quickly and turns to walk away.

“Uh, feel free to gather the rest of your men and join us, it’ll be much more interesting with some new company.”

Al turns back, grinning.

“Will do, Napoleon.”

Al salutes and jogs off down the hallway.

A few minutes before food is served, Al and his men show up, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

Napoleon waves over a few men and has them set up a table and stool next to his own, with a bowl, spoon and knife.  A few more soldiers set up some stools in other groups, away from Frankie.

Johnny, Tony and Ralph all find stools among the soldiers, while Napoleon waves Al over.

“Sit, sit, we’re about to eat!”

Al shuffles over and sits down.  The stool creaks underneath him, and Al winces.

 “They do that all the time, we’ve only had one break so far, do not worry u mo amicu.”

 Al grins a little and drums on the table softly with his fingers.

“So what are we eating?”

A soldier comes around with a pot and a ladle, and pours bean soup in their bowls, Napoleon first, then Claude, and finally Al. 

 Another soldier comes up with a plate of bread slices next half of a loaf, and a small platter with butter on it.  He sets the half loaf and the butter on Napoleon’s table, and three slices each on Claude’s and Al’s tables. 

 “Soupe de haricots and bread.”

Napoleon watches Al out of the corner of his eye, and notices him glance several times between his and Claude’s tables and Napoleon’s table.

“You sure get preferential treatment, eh Napoleon?”

There it is, the judgement.  Napoleon sighs loudly.  He waves over a soldier carrying platters and takes two, dividing the butter into thirds and giving both Al and Claude one.

“Général Sir, you know I don’t want butter on soupe de haricots night.”

Napoleon stares at Al as Claude slides the platter back to Napoleon’s table.

“If you want anything else, feel free to insult me again.”

“I didn’t...  I’m sorry.”

“Un-training the etiquette is harder than just asking for something.  Your apology is accepted.”

A third soldier comes up with three wine glasses and a bottle of wine.  He sets the glasses down and pours the wine in the same order, Napoleon, Claude, Al.  He sets the wine bottle on Napoleon’s table and walks off.

Al picks up his glass indelicately and sniffs it, a puzzled look on his face.

“Is it no good?”

“Nah...  it’s just, I’m not good at identifying wine.”

“By the way you are holding that glass, I can tell you don’t drink it much.”

Al chuckles quietly.

“So...  How’s Frankie been doin’?  Hopefully he didn’t accidentally stab anyone.” 

“He came close a few times, but no injuries, aside from squashed toes.”

“Mmm.  He didn’t mouth off to you at all did he?”

Napoleon cuts off a chunk of bread and butters it thoroughly.

“Fortunately no...  Any more pain?”

“Nah, just tingly if I bump my neck.”

“That’s good.”

Napoleon spoons some bean soup on his bread and eats it.

Al snorts quietly.

“Nice, I do that too.”

Al spoons a big pile of beans on his own bread and manages to fit it in his mouth.  Napoleon tries not to laugh when bean juice drips down Al’s chin.

Napoleon watches Frankie conversing with the other men in his group.

Translations:

Général = General

Soupe de haricots = Bean soup

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