There are many things that ticked Madeleine Williams off. For example, dirty floors. Honestly, who didn't hate dirty floors?
There were many other things.
Many, many, other things.
But there were predominantly three things that pissed her off.
One of them was the color red. A nice color, really, but it was so flashy. It didn't necessarily piss her off, but it made her give off an "I'd-rather-not-see-you-because-you're-a-damn-abomination" kind of vibe. …Maybe it did piss her off.
Another thing that ticked her off was attitude. Like, the "this-house-is-on-fire-because-I'm-fucking-hot" kind of attitude. And houses on fire were not a matter to be tampered with.
And yet another thing that irked her was being late. Whoa; not the kind of late associated with the menstrual cycle, because birth was a wonderful process and definitely not an abomination like the color red, but the time kind of late.
Gilbert Beilschmidt was all three of those things.
No; he was most definitely not red, but his eyes were. As gorgeous as they were, they reminded Madeleine of fire. Houses on fire, to be particular.
Therefore, Gilbert Beilschmidt was an abomination. Well, according to her. According to over half of the female population, he was damn sexy.
Not that she disagreed about his looks, but the cons about him outweighed the pros.
Currently, Gilbert Beilschmidt was late for a meeting with their agency, Hetalia Corporations.
Oh, right; Gilbert and Madeleine were both famous actors for Hetalia Corporations. Gilbert had been in the business for forever, while Madeleine was a new actor who had risen to popularity only recently.
Acting meant money. Loads of it.
But there was always a catch.
Always, always a catch.
And that catch came in the form of Gilbert Beilschmidt.
No, girlies, he wasn't a great catch. I don't mean that kind of catch.
But the catch was that Gilbert and Madeleine were costars for a very popular series. Costars.
The horror.
No, no; it is much worse than you think.
Madeleine and Gilbert hated each other's guts.
So much that when they locked eyes with one another, someone who would walk through their eye contact— which can otherwise be described as the battlefield— would be electrocuted with the intensity of hate shooting from both people.
Seriously, Alfred tried it.
He's…out of business now. Just kidding; he was just sent to the hospital.
And never returned.
Another joke. Calm down; this isn't a horror story. Alfred only stayed in the hospital for a couple of days.
Which turned into weeks. Which turned into months. Which turned into years. Which turned into eternity.
Digressing aside, Madeleine and Gilbert truly hated each other. They would constantly try to bring each other down.
Since they were costars, they went to a shitload of interviews together.
Gilbert released an embarrassing secret about Madeleine on live television.
Madeleine retorted by tripping him on live television. And making him crash into a desk full of soda and cups of water. Don't forget the food.
After changing, Gilbert fired back at Madeleine by tripping her as well. While she was wearing a skirt. Free Victoria's Secret advertising, anyone?
Madeleine eventually got back at Gilbert by accidentally mentioning to the tabloids about the whereabouts of Gilbert's hotel room. And, long story short, they managed to break in and take loads of pictures while Gilbert was in the shower, using women's shampoo. Garnier Fructis advertising, much?
So, back to reality, here Madeleine was, standing in the lobby of Hetalia Corporations, waiting for Gilbert. Not to mention that she was standing on a dirty floor.
So, kiddies, can anyone guess Madeleine's mood?
Yes. She was pissed.
It wouldn't be so bad if they just started the meeting without him. But no, they insisted that they wouldn't start until the most important person came.
She was important too!
And she swore that as soon as that thing came in, all hell would break loose. She would give him a thorough verbal beating and make him apologize. Crying, of course. Sadistic, much?
So when that brat finally came in, she smiled. No, smirked. No, grinned. A very, very sinister grin.
"Grin any wider and your jaw might come off," a voice breathed in her ear.
She didn't jump a foot in the air. Really.
Madeleine frowned. "Do you have any idea how late it is, Gilbert Beilschmidt?" she hissed, facing him.
Those goddamn eyes tried feigning innocence. Keyword: tried.
"What are you talking about? The meeting hasn't started yet. I'm right on time." That bastard grinned cheekily.
Madeleine crossed her arms, but not before checking the time. "Yes, Gilbert, because meetings totally start at exactly 3:43," she deadpanned.
Gilbert looked hurt as she insulted him. Yeah right.
"Frown any longer and it'll stay that way. But… It does actually make you look less ugly. But that's only because they'll be distracted by your horrendous teeth and lipstick choice," Gilbert stated in a singsong voice, shrugging comically.
Madeleine was about to speak when Gilbert interrupted her.
"Anyway," he started, "you're right; meetings don't start at 3:43. But you're also wrong, as always. Because meetings start when I get here," he whispered haughtily.
Madeleine breathed deeply, counting to ten.
"I'm surprised you can count, Madeleine. A gold star for you."
Madeleine looked confused for a bit. "Gold star? I thought you were too poor to even look at one."
Gilbert frowned. His red eyes narrowed slightly.
"Watch out," Madeleine warned in a mocking manner, "if you frown any longer, it'll stay that way," she quoted.
Gilbert pouted. "You're so mean to me."
Madeleine pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don't kill him… Don't kill him..." she muttered continuously.
Gilbert opened his mouth to speak. Madeleine stopped him.
"Let's just go to the goddamn meeting, Beilschmidt." She began swearing under her breath as she started the long trek to the elevator.
"Didn't know you knew so many cuss words, boss," Gilbert mocked, following her.
"Fuck you," she swore. "Don't kill him… Don't waste your knife on that idiot..." She began quicken her pace.
"What time?"
"Oh, please," she said, rolling her eyes as she climbed into the elevator. She jabbed at the buttons, attempting to close the door on him. "I'd rather fuck that tree over there." She pointed to the potted plant that rested randomly in the corner of the elevator.
Feliciano had said that it was a tomato plant, rambling something about not having any more space in his dressing room. For some reason, his dressing room had a kitchen in it, full of pasta.
"Owie," Gilbert whined as the elevator closed on his finger. As soon as the doors closed he stepped a bit too close to Madeleine for her liking. "That's kind of gross. I didn't know that you were into that kind of stuff."
"Just think about maple syrup…"
"But that's okay, because I," he inched closer to her ear, " #$%^&*"
This elevator was much too slow. But that was okay. Because Madeleine, in turn, had enough time to—
"I forgot my fucking knife!"
"So you're into that kind of stuff too?"
Children, let us play a game where we guess who said which.
"Okay, let the meeting begin," Arthur spoke.
Madeleine plopped into her seat, which was miraculously not next to Gilbert. Thank the high heavens for that.
For the meeting, the whole cast of Half and Half— the show that Madeleine and Gilbert were costarring in— had assembled. Honestly, Madeleine thought the plot was too cliché for her tastes. And who would name a show after a cream/milk/whatever? You didn't even know what to officially call it.
But the fans loved it. And fans brought views. Which brought money.
Hey; she might sound like a spoiled girl, but when it came to money Madeleine wasn't going to complain.
Ludwig, the most responsible of the cast, rose from his seat.
"Anyway," Ludwig began, "we're having a very important interview coming up tomorrow, as you all know. I trust that you will all answer efficiently," he looked to Feliciano, who waved overexcitedly at him, "and appropriately," he emphasized while looking to Lovino, then Gilbert.
Lovino was a saucy (ha; saucy, because he likes tomato sauce) boy. And his favorite word was most likely fuck. His role in the show was to be a kind hearted boy with a big heart who loved reading. Go figure.
"I don't appreciate that look you're giving me, potato bastard."
"I'm appalled, little brother," Gilbert spoke, "that you would not trust me in this. Oh, my poor heart," he put his hand to his heart as if it had been shot.
"Gilbert," Ludwig started, sighing, "your heart is on the left side."
"I-I knew that…" Gilbert said nervously. "Just testing to see if my little brother is doing well in chemistry."
"God, my brother is an idiot…"
"Expected from someone who has a potato for brains," Lovino grumbled.
"Fratello, that's not nice!" Feliciano exclaimed.
Gilbert grinned. "You know, if there's anyone you can't trust, it's Madeleine. She's into BDSM. The hardcore kind, because she said she would use Feli's tomato plant…"
All hell broke loose. Again.
And at that exact moment, Gilbert had decided to state that while Madeleine had excused herself to go to the lady's room.
"Who knows what she's doing in the bathroom right now," Gilbert mused.
"I can't blame 'er," Francis stated in his overly romantic French accent. "Sometimes you just feel urges." He winked at Arthur.
Francis Bonnefoy was an overly romantic Frenchie. With an accent. So of course he attracted all of the ladies. His character portrayed a boy working at a coffee shop aspiring to be a medical student. Coincidentally, his character's best friend was Arthur's character.
Arthur tried to be as gentlemanly as possible, but when it came to that damn American idiot, his personality would flip flop. His character was a poor emo boy who dealt drugs to earn money for college.
Just what kind of show was this?
"You what urge I feel, frog?" Arthur growled. "I feel the urge to kill you. Slowly."
"I tried," Alfred piped up, "but that thing just wouldn't die." He bit into his hamburger.
"When will you quit it with all of those hamburgers, twat?"
Alfred. Him and his hero complex… In the series, he was the typical American teenager (idiot).
Arthur tried. He tried real hard to decide who to choke first.
The meeting had turned to complete chaos because of Gilbert.
"Urges?" Yao had said, and then continued to mumble something about hormones. "Anyway, Gilbert, how would you know, aru? Are you and Madeleine having…that kind of relationship?"
"Oh my," Antonio piped up, "how I wish I could be like that with Lovi…"
"Quit being a pedophile, tomato bastard."
"More ideas for my manga…" Kiku Honda muttered.
And at that time, Madeleine decided to walk back in. The room fell silent as they stared at her.
"Madeleine," Ivan Braginski said, breaking the silence. "Congratulations."
Madeleine looked at him oddly. "What are you talking about, Ivan?"
"You and Gilbert, da?"
The whole room nodded in unison. It was kind of creepy.
"Gilbert Beilschmidt," Madeleine fumed, "what did you tell them this time?"
Gilbert only snickered. "Just the truth."
Thirty minutes later, Ludwig adjourned the meeting. Slowly, people began to file out. Madeleine was first, anxious to go home and get away from that thing. Actually, all of those things.
Gilbert was among the last to leave, joking around with Francis and Antonio before they left. Ludwig grabbed his older brother before he could leave.
"Gilbert, as you know, tomorrow's interview is very important," Ludwig repeated.
Gilbert sighed. "I know, I know. I won't do this that, or that, or this," he began to list all of the things he was banned from, "and I won't embarrass Madeleine. I promise this time."
"Good. But actually, I need you to do something else. Tomorrow they're going to ask questions. I don't care about any of them but one. I know we always give the same answers to this question, but this time, I need you to…" he whispered the rest in Gilbert's ear.
Gilbert's eyes widened.
