Ok! This is a challenge fic written for TezzX on Freedom of Speech.

The challenge was: #1. ZeM/Gregory. AU. The year is 1919. Gregory's life in England gets turned upside down, when his next door neighbor moves in.

I am issuing my own challenges!

#1: Damien/Pip Damien feels horrible for doing what he did to Pip, so he goes and visits him in the hospital. "What he did" is not limited to torching him in the 3rd grade. Interpret it how you will.

#2: Butters/Kenny Kenny and butters have a date, but Butters is grounded.

Ok on with that ficcage!

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Gregory was a normal man. He lived in London, wasn't high society but wasn't poor, he was polite and courteous to women, and he enjoyed a drink with the occasional game of cards, he was generous to the homeless and the French refugees…

And he was homosexual. While this may not have been a normal trait, it had never been a problem before. He would act as any English gentleman would in the company of others and have his fun in the privacy of his own home. He thought it would always be as easy as that.

Until he moved in next door.

Christophe Delorne was not like the other French who had infested London and the surrounding areas after the Germans had invaded. He and his ailing mother (referred to by Christophe as "zat beetch") had moved to London after the war had already ended so that the Frenchman could attend a local University. They were well off enough that they could buy a house in a slightly affluent neighborhood without worrying about being in debt.

And Christophe had propositioned him.

Gregory had been minding his own business, walking down the street to the local pub, when he heard that life-changing shout.

"You! Breeteesh Beetch 'o leeves next door! 'Ow would you like to be my beetch tonight!" Gregory had paled and spun around.

"How dare you! I should gut you like a fish and pull your leg off like the vile frog you are!" Little did the gathering crowd know that his rage had nothing to do with Christophe's blatant accusation of his homosexuality, and everything to do with the fact that Gregory would like nothing more than to crawl into the handsome Frenchman's bed.

His chiseled jaw, strong shoulders, easy grace, and predatory smirk sent shivers of delight up Gregory's spine. His voice was like liquid gold the way the words dripped off of his tongue in accented English.

Yes, Gregory would bed this man eagerly if he wasn't his next door neighbor. As it was he simply turned on his heel and stalked off to the pub.

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Gregory had done something he hardly even did. He got roaringly drunk and staggered home singing Irish drinking songs in an obviously fake brogue, bandged on Christophe's door in the middle of the night, and tackled him immediately after the door opened.

"I would like very much to be your beetch, Christophe!" He said in a faked French accent, giggling madly. Christophe smirked and dragged the drunken blonde into the house. As soon as the door was shut, Gregory started sucking on Christophe's neck.

"Eef I was not such a kind man, you would be skirting danger, mon ami." The last two words where a hot whisper in Gregory's ear, sending shivers down his spine and causing him to moan into Christophe's pulse point.

"Maybe I like danger, mon cher." He replied, biting the Frenchman lightly.

"Maybe when you are sober we can continue the conversation, non? You need to geet 'home." Christophe pushed the blonde lightly off of him and dragged him by his wrist all the way back home.

Once inside, the taller man shoved the brit into the wall and kissed him passionately on the lips. "Come to me again when you're sober, mon ami." He said, gone before Gregory's ale and lust clouded mind could comprehend what had just happened.

The kiss seemed to have sobered him up just a bit, because he smirked and set out the water and aspirin for the hangover he was sure to have tomorrow.

He couldn't bed his new lover with a pounding headache, now could he?