Coq au Vin

KOKOWÄÄH

[ k ᴐ k o v ẽ ]

Year of the Bird, Nov 10

It's been a while since I've written anything, these days have been hectic to say the least. Let's see, it started when I came home on Monday...

I pushed the door open with a mighty kick, and almost dropped the plastic bags (with mostly junk food and beer) as the door swung back at me, hitting my elbow hard. Cursing I kicked the door again and was rewarded with pain in my foot. My bad mood had spiralled out of control ever since the store manager had shouted at me for giving a discount to one of my friends, causing me to make more small but infuriating mistakes that just made me more and more mad at myself and the world. And still, this was nothing compared to what came next.

There, in front of the door to my apartment, sat a kid. A boy with impossibly big hair, somewhere between wavy and curly. He was dressed in clothes that at a first glance looked plain but were probably very expensive, except for the blue-and-white striped scarf, in which he had covered his face. There were three bags next to him, filled almost to the bursting point. I didn't like the look of it at all. Whatever it was, it would probably drag out and keep me from indulging in the beer and the headache that was sure to follow.

»The only kid here lives one floor down,« I said, still clinging to the hope that this might have nothing at all to do with me. The boy jumped and stared at me. His gaze travelled from my red eyes to my white hair and back to my red eyes. »What, never seen an albino before?« I snapped. The boy shook his head, a thoughtful look on his face.

»Hallo, Vater.«

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It was a ridiculous situation. I had a twelve-year-old son that I had never heard about suddenly showing up on my doorstep telling me his mother had told him to live with me. I still have no idea how she how she found me, but apparently Erzebeta Hedervari was alive although not completely well, burdened with too much work and not enough time for her son. She had also married some Austrian guy called Roderich Edelstein (so maybe she was called Erzebeta Edelstein now?) who, apparently, also worked too much. As a dentist (I already disliked this guy).

After having asked me if I really was Gilbert Beilschmidt (please, hos many albinos named Gilbert Awesome Beilschmidt could there live in an apartment complex, let alone in the world?) the boy said I should have received a call from Francis Bonnefoy, my ex-co-worker (left to store clerk business to write sappy novels and slap paint on canvas) and bestest buddy along with Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Sadly, my mobile phone had run out of batteries, but my home phone had a long, long message recorded.

Whether I accepted to take the kid on for any longer amount of time or not was irrelevant at the moment (uh, what?), because whatever I decided the kid would have to sleep at my place for about two weeks, 'there was simply no other solution'. I would have to feed him, take him to school, help him with homework (I was more likely to ruin his homework, but okay) and all that jazz.

Kneeling down in front of the kid who had stayed standing at the entrance I looked at him. He looked nothing like me, except perhaps for some of the lines in his face. He was short and thin, with blue eyes that avoided mine.

»You look nothing like me,« I stated flatly.

»You're an albino,« the boy explained calmly, but still without meeting my eyes. »So I might have some of your genes that we do not know about. Mom's eyes aren't blue either.«

Lovely, I thought, a real nerd of a son I have.

»I suppose there's nothing for it,« I sighed, standing back up. »Have you eaten anything?«

At the mention of food the boy's stomach roared loudly, and he blushed deeply, shaking his head a little.

»I've been waiting here since this morning.«

»Let's get you out of that jacket and make you something then,« with 'make' I meant heat in a microwave, »and take off that scarf-«

»No!« The boy slapped away my hand as I reached for the scarf. I must have looked angry or something, because he quickly apologized and pulled the scarf tighter around his neck. »I promised to take care of it,« he mumbled.

Not really caring (I was walking around with shoes inside, so no harm in him keeping his scarf) I shrugged and dumped the bags in the living room instead. He'd have to sleep somewhere too. I decided that he could take my bed for that night. I'd slept on couches so many times I almost considered them beds in their own right, so that didn't bother me, but I couldn't sleep on the couch forever either, I'd have to get a mattress of some kind tomorrow.

I pulled some of the packages with pre-made food out of the plastic bags, quietly mourning the loss of a lonely night's drinking. »What would you like to have?«

Still clutching the edges of the scarf he scrunched up his nose in distaste, but pointed shyly at one of the packages. I took another one, stuffed the rest in the fridge and found some clean forks. It was a long, long meal.

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The next morning I realised that I had forgotten to ask his name. Some parent I was. Then again, yesterday I had still been living in the happy illusion of being awesomely single (or 'forever alone', as Antonio put it, damn him), not a single parent, so you couldn't really blame me.

»Kid,« I said, as I brought out another package of fast food, »What's your name?«

»Gustave Hedervari-Edelstein,« he replied almost automatically, and at the same time answered my musings about Erzebeta's last name. I had to give the girl some credit, she managed to convince her dentist hubby to let her own name be written first. »I'm not eating that for breakfast.«

»What?« I asked stupidly.

»My teacher says we have to eat healthy, and that is not healthy.« The kid - Gustave - scrunched up his nose again.

»You ate this yesterday.«

»I was hungry, I could have eaten stone yesterday!«

»Why didn't you tell me that earlier, it would have saved me a meal, there's plenty of stone outside!« The kid - Gustave! - frowned at my use of sarcasm. »What do you eat?« I asked in an attempt to appease him.

»A sandwhich or something,« he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. »But school starts in half an hour.«

»What?«

»School starts in half an hour. And I missed school yesterday because you never came back in the morning.«

»Shit!«

Guess who's getting the Father of the Year award?

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In the end, I bought Gustave a sandwich on the way to school for him to eat in the car. After having written a hurried note to the teacher blaming Gustave's absence on illness (the kid looked impressed with this, he must have had such a boring, sheltered life) I watched him run into the schoolyard just as the bell rang and could finally breathe a sigh of relief. I couldn't stay much longer, though. I still had my own job to think about, I couldn't afford being late, seeing as I had pissed the manager off the day before. Also, I'd have to do some shopping to keep the little gourmand happy. Maybe I could get Francis over to cook something.

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It seems you need more than a note scribbled by a 'random stranger' to be officially excused, so Gustave was looking pretty down as he quietly did his homework at the table. I was just finishing the cleaning out of my Room of Unwanted Things to turn it into an emergency guestroom (i.e. dump a mattress with accessories there) as the doorbell rang. Gustave looked up, surprised. I hadn't told him that someone was going to come, so of course he'd be surprised.

Francis, just like usual, looked 'fabulous'. He was dressed in expensive designer clothes, and had gotten a haircut since the last time I'd seen him, but he had kept his 'artist's stubble'.

»The fuck, Francis, can you even afford all that?«

Francis threw up his hands in an overdramatic, exasperated pose in such a way that the wrist was exposed, showing off an even more expensive-looking watch and then smiled enigmatically.

»The muses have been kind to me lately!«

A new best-seller had recently appeared, written by a mysterious author. I rolled my eyes.

»So let's see this son of yours!«

»He doesn't look like me and he certainly hasn't inherited any of my awesome attitude.«

»You'd have been driven mad by now if he was anything like you- Gilbert! This can't be your son!«

Gustave started, dropping his pen in surprise as the flamboyant Frenchman burst into the kitchen. He looked over at me, but then quickly away as if thinking that there was no help to get from me.

»How so?« I asked, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

»Well, for starters, he's much cuter than you, and since I doubt that you picked out his outfit for him he obviously has a far superior taste!«

Gustave blushed and looked down at his homework again, looking rather lost as Francis went into rant-in-rapid-French-mode. Annoyed but used to it, I picked out a beer from the fridge and chose to simply watch my friend get the rant out of him rather than try to shut him up. I didn't understand much French, but I didn't really need to: most of the words were synonyms of 'beautiful', 'cute' or 'adorable' and different brands and labels.

»-et la chemise de d'Ange devrait être-!«

»Je n'aime pas d'Ange!«

Francis was shocked into silence. I shot Gustave an approving look. »Congratulations! There aren't many who can shut this guy up with a mere sentence!« But Gustave only turned redder and looked back down to his homework for the second time. I swear, he had looked more at that homework than anything else since we came home.

»Gilbert, you really lack manners! Gustave, make sure you don't turn out like your father!«

»I think we're all hungry now, so how 'bout you start cooking?« I growled at Francis, who grinned at Gustave and winked. The kid gave a hesitant smile in return. I would like to say that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but in the beginning all the sudden French and expensive clothes that suddenly 'needed a new home' gave me nothing but a headache. I had to keep reminding myself that the clothes were for free.

All in all, though, it was good. The conversations Gustave had with Francis helped him open up to me, and on Wednesday evening we even had something that started to seem like an actual conversation. It was still mostly me talking, and him answering questions, but what else could I expect, the kid had been abandoned by his parents only to be dumped at his biological father's, whom he had never met and who didn't even show up until late evening. Not to mention I wasn't entirely thrilled with my new situation.

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This morning I think I saw something important. I can't be sure, but I think Gustave might be bullied. As a former bully, I can only see too well what the bullies are picking up on as 'flaws'. He knows a lot (his homework was completely incomprehensible for me already), he dresses well, which seemed to make him popular among the girls, although being defended by girls won't make his situation any easier, and he's not overly sporty (I got a note from the teacher, whom they had apparently informed about Gustave's current situation and which also apologized for not having believed in the absent note from me). In short, a loser, and the friendly roughhousing seemed just a bit too rough to be friendly from where I watched from the car. I didn't get any chance to confront him about it yet, though. After school, when I came to pick him up, Gustave showed up with a boy with blond hair sticking straight up and a cute girl that might have been his sister, both of them demanding that Luxembourg sleep over at their house. Their mother came a little bit later, assuring me that there was absolutely no problem with Gustave staying over and that he was the most adorable little boy her kids had ever befriended ever. I could hardly say no, especially not after even Gustave started nagging, so I let him. I had no hard evidence of bullying anyway, so confronting him would most likely only distance him from me.

Francis was heartbroken that evening, he had just bought ingredients for cheese fondue. It ended up being a Bad Touch Trio night, with Antonio. He complained that I should have told him I had a kid earlier, his sort-of-nephews (the explanation was really long, so I just settled for that), two twins, needed friends it seemed. One was aggressive and the other too airheaded to look out for himself, which led to the aggressive one fighting whoever did or did not insult his brother. Needless to say I was not overly enthusiastic about the suggestion, but agreed to let them meet some time, just to get him to stop nagging.

Oh, it's past two in the morning. I guess it's the 11th of November now. Gotta sleep if I'm going to get to work in time tomorrow. Gute Nacht!

A/N: It is le done! XD Now I will have to go to sleep... So, explanations! This fic is based on the film with the same name, and features Vater!Prussia and Sohn!Luxembourg (OC!Luxembourg, as I started on this before the official design was released and made me happy). It was a long time since I saw the film, so it most likely won't follow it very closely... Still, I hope you enjoy, and if you have any requests about character appearances, tell me and I will consider working them in! I might even let OCs in, provided you give a good description of them and what you want them to do! ;)

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