.:Where's the 'I' in 'TEAM-WORK'?:.
!Snow Rabbit - RusPrus - RuPru!
Written for the Team-Work contest on deviantart.
A/N: First boyxboy story, not explicit, period. I wanted to make it M, but the contest requires nothing 'dirty'. So yeah, here goes. Might end up adding another chapter with more mature content, if people take a liking to this. German translations will be found in an author's note at the very end.
"I hate this hell-hole," Gilbert muttered for the umpteenth time that day. "And all of you, too."
Ludwig – a certain blonde that worked in the same bureau as Gilbert did – answered with a simple roll of his eyes, "If it helps you any, I'm pretty sure everyone hates everyone in this police district."
The pale man grunted unsatisfied, "Yeah, right. You don't hate Feli, do you, Bruder?"
"Expectations prove the rule, yes? It's just the increasing number of crimes lately, really, that stresses all of us out," Ludwig answered, trying to suppress the blush that now dusted his cheeks ever so faintly. "The city seems to boom with crime, and we all have a bunch of work to do. Especially paper work, which you despise the most, right? Calm yourself some, Gilbert."
A small grin appeared on the white-haired man's face; not necessarily an amused grin, but rather a reaction to his brother's sad try to show some authority. To others the blond German might be intimidating as hell, but to Gilbert, he'd always be the tiny younger brother whose diaper he used to change or who'd wet bed until the age of fourteen.
"Anyway, believe me, there's enough idiots around here that I hate with stress or without." Gilbert replied nonchalantly, shrugging as if to say 'Guess-I'm-just-too-awesome-for-them'.
"Really now? Well, I'm listening." Said Ludwig, for the first time looking up from his work to look at his brother.
"...For example, Roderich. He's such a whiny girl sometimes! Or Lizzie who always tries to hit me with a pan. A freaking pan, Ludwig." Gilbert said, snorting. In truth, he really didn't hate a lot of co-workers; while some managed to annoy him, he got along with them most of the time. "Or that creepy Russian guy – Ivan, because just how can a name be any more pimp, really? – who always finds a way to make me look stupid!"
Ludwig sighed, "You don't hate Roderich, you're just mad because he got that damn promotion that you wanted so badly. Get over your pride and accept that you guys used to be friends before that fiasco. And, if I remember correctly, you used to like Elizaveta a lot, too. And if it wasn't for the fact that she's married to Roderich, you wouldn't be able to hold anything against her, either. As for Ivan... Can't say much there. But, hey, maybe he's not that bad of a person."
"Last time I checked, you hated him as much as I did, Bruder." Gilbert raised one eyebrow with a suspicious look. "What's up with you today, anyway? Trying to make me see that people are actually likeable... Last time you tried to achieve something similar was when you got together with Feli and you thought that I might not like him. You fucking Ivan, too, or what?"
"Nein! Verdammt nochmal[1], Gilbert!" Ludwig said – well, shouted, really. "That's not what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is that Feli overheard Alfred and Arthur talking about deciding new partners for everyone in our divisions. And, well, you might end up with someone you hate. I'm just worried you might not be able to overcome that and do bad work, that's all."
"Ha! Can't imagine why the boss would do that now, out of all times. Just when he's gotten together with a dude that works here and probably would love to be his partner. What a coincidence! Man, Arthur and Alfred are just too transparent with their intentions, aren't they?" Gilbert laughed loudly, before facing his brother again. "So who's your new partner then?"
"Feli said that he practically begged them to be my new partner. And you know how convincing his crocodile tears can be."
That, indeed, he knew. "What a pity, you're not gonna miss me at all, then, huh? Well, who's my new partner, you have any kind of idea there?"
His brother looked away awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. "Ja, I do, actually."
Gilbert stared at his brother intently, demanding the answer rather harshly, "So? I want a name, Ludwig."
"...The name's Ivan. Ivan Braginsky."
And that was enough to make Gilbert feel like dying a little.
"Das ist nicht wahr. Das kann gar nicht wahr sein. Ich will das nicht. Und ich werde das ganz bestimmt nicht kampflos hinnehmen.[2]" Gilbert muttered under his breath, again and again and again. It sounded a little as if he chanted some really weird and remotely scary spell. He was lucky that Elizaveta understood enough German to guess what was going on there.
"Gilbert, it is true, it can be true and nobody even cares if you want this or not. And how the hell would you fight Arthur's decision? He's the boss, remember?" This successfully shut the albino up. He needed a second to process that she actually understood his German. Then again, he reminded himself, her husband came from Austria. And after a few years, you probably had the desire to be able to communicate with your partner in a language that was at least native to one of them.
"You can say that lightly, since you are now teamed up with Roderich! Just admit it already, you've been dying to be able to work with him, right?" His red eyes were accusing; and he knew that he was right. How patronizing they all were, telling him to calm down and stop being such an 'idiot' about being partners with Ivan. Well, breaking news: everyone else was now the partner of a good friend or of their siblings or of their lover. And here you can see Gilbert Beilschmidt, the pour soul that has to be Ivan Braginsky's partner. Okay, he'd admit that Ivan had close to no friends around here, so some pitiful guy had to end up with him. But Gilbert was friends with so many of the persons that worked in this district. So why did he have to be the pitiful guy?
His brother, obviously, ended up with Feliciano. Which was great for them really, and Gilbert wouldn't have minded if at least one of his friends would've been his partner.
But, no, of course not. Francis now had Matthew, Antonio had Lovino and Alfred was Arthur's partner. Roderich and Elizaveta weren't his favourite persons, really, but he'd rather be in a team with one of them than with Ivan. And now he'd be stuck with that Russian bastard until Arthur and Alfred broke up and Arthur, the big bad boss, announced another change in partners. Though, knowing Arthur, he was well aware that the Brit was one to settle down. (Though he hadn't been quite like that in high school, if Gilbert remembered correctly there...)
"Still, you're being a real bitch about this, Gilbert. You might as well give Braginsky a chance, right? What harm could be done?" The Hungarian insisted. She did that a lot, she realized, trying to force people to their luck. Truth be told, she only wanted Gilbert to give Ivan a go because she had a talk with Ivan a few days prior, and well... She kind of felt bad for him, having no real friends and all. And since Gilbert seemed so lonely too lately –
Let's just say that good ol' Lizzie had a plan, and Gilbert's princess-attitude should better not get in the way of that. There's nothing more dangerous than a woman with a plan and a frying pan.
"No, everyone else is being a bitch about this, got it? Everyone's just like 'Gilbert, calm yourself, it's not that bad' but no one likes this guy, not one single person around here. It's just not fair that I have to be the one that has to stuck with him. It's. Not. Awesome. This is just like Kraftklub once sang: Dein Leben läuft gut, mein Leben läuft Amok[3]! I won't accept this, it just won't happen!"
Elizaveta wasn't that good with German, but knowing Gilbert it was probably some lame and way too dramatic saying of sorts. She couldn't quite know, since this certainly wasn't a band Roderich listened too, but it didn't really matter anyhow. "There's nothing you can actually do about it, Gilbo, and you know it."
"Oh no, don't 'Gilbo' me, this won't work. I'm not giving in this time. Arthur will choose another partner for me," A slight smirk appeared on the albino's handsome face."And I know just how I will make him do that."
Elizaveta simply shook her head. There had never been a use trying to reason with Gilbert.
When Gilbert arrived at his new office the next day, he wasn't feeling particularly happy to do so. Then again, sharing a room with your arch enemy for the whole day? He could imagine a bunch of better things, honestly.
"Beilschmidt." A thick Russian accent greeted him, the voice's owner nodding as if to acknowledge the other's presence without actually wanting to do so. Gilbert ignored him, simply sat down, took half of the paperwork from the big stack that presented today's work.
Usually, partners would discuss who does what, because some papers belonged together rather than others. But Gilbert wasn't in for that, oh no. He wouldn't even try to seem like a team to others. Once Arthur realised that they weren't working out at all, he have to separate them, right?
"Mh... Have it your way, then, partner." Ivan said, accenting the 'partner' rather sarcastically. So he already did guess what Gilbert's mega awesome plan was, huh? Granted, he didn't really try to hide what he was intending to do concerning this situation. The Russian took the other half of paper work.
Roughly one hour later, Ivan suddenly stood up, startling the other quite harshly. A few papers now floated through mid-air as Gilbert glared at him angrily. "This plan of yours, it won't work, you know. I don't work well with people and Arthur knows. He cannot pair me up with anyone else. He thinks I'd be too much for them, since I already fucked up with a patient guy like Jones."
The German (Prussian at heart, though) kept glaring, not willing lose this staring contest. Ice cold lilac and hot gleaming red clashed. To say that they hated each other was one obvious understatement.
"Just fuck off, Ivan. You won't fuck me up, got that?"
"We'll see about that, comrade."
It's been a week – the worst fucking week Gilbert ever had to endure – and Arthur didn't even react to the obvious mismatch he had created when he put together Russian and Prussian.
Everyone else, though, noted it perfectly well. The albino had given up on the silent treatment (since Braginsky actually seemed to enjoy silence, damn bastard!) and instead opted for loud yelling and insulting and sneering whenever he met his partner. Ivan himself had ignored the albino at first, but he found that Gilbert was very difficult to ignore. So, instead of answering with yelling, punching and whipping like the white-haired would have deserved in his opinion, he answered with dark glances, threats and an occasional too firm clap on the upper back, or a too tightened grip on the shoulder. Ivan didn't necessarily want to be enemies with Gilbert, but he wouldn't let the man harass him so openly without doing something about it.
He had more dignity than that.
In any case, Ivan also wondered why Arthur wouldn't react to this, because this was just obviously not working out. It was obvious, also, that Arthur wouldn't pair Ivan up with anyone else. Perhaps he should have assigned them both to do work without a partner; Ivan just didn't do 'social standards' and was therefore horrible at working in teams. And Gilbert, he just generally seemed to be a lone wolf, enjoying the role thoroughly.
The Russian snorted. Lone wolf? Yeah, right. More like, unable to be civil. Because that'd be all they needed to be able to work out as a team. It wasn't as if Ivan wanted to be friends with the man so badly, but he really wanted to do his work without feeling like killing somebody every evening once he came home.
An annoyed sigh left Ivan's lips. There's nothing, really, that he could do about it that wouldn't result in crime.
And he didn't feel like it was bad enough for murder. (Yet.)
They had almost reached the end of week two as the door to the office swung open harshly.
"I've got a crime for the both of you," Alfred announced, so loud that people down the street probably heard him. "Information inside the envelope."
As the door closed just in the same loud way as before, Gilbert stared a little perplexed at the envelope that the American had given him – and Ivan sat way closer to the door, mind you – and blinked a few times in confusion.
"That was a little out of character, wasn't it?" Gilbert mumbled, not knowing the American to be this curt and terse and freakishly harsh. There also was that sub-zero, gelid look in his eyes as he took a second to observe his former partner, Ivan. That expression of pure hatred kinda gave Gilbert the creeps. Just what happened between these two, seriously?
"Was it? He's been like that towards me since week four or five, really. He's always this curt with me." The Russian replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"Now that's, for a lack of better words, interesting. I take it that it doesn't bother you, period." Not a question, but a statement. These sparks of hate as they looked at each other; it was quite obvious, really.
Ivan smirked a little. "He was easier to break than you. He began being scared after two days. Then, a few weeks later, he grew a bit more confident again and since then it's been cold stares and curt replies. I don't mind, naturally. I minded more when he still tried to be nice. And he's so loud, too. Can't say I miss those first days."
Gilbert snorted. "Figures. Alfred's all talk and no action. Like when my pals and I invited him to drink with us, and he was out of it after the third bottle of beer. Granted, he's only used to that watery piss and not the good German beer, but still, it's sad. And now, of course, he's got the perfect way out of it with saying that he can't drink because someone needs to get Arthur's drunken arse home. It's just not awesome, really."
"I guess. Just glad he's not my partner any more. Everyone's better than him." The Russian replied with a shrug. "You could call it mutual deep hatred, I suppose."
"Oh, I can imagine. I'm surprised that Arthur's getting along with him so well, since he's usually the exact opposite. The only reason Ludwig and I never got into huge fights was because we're brothers and I know exactly which buttons to press to get him to agree with me." Gilbert paused and a sly smirk appeared on his face. "Not to mention the emotional blackmail I have to make everything run smooth concerning my brother.
Yeah, Gilbert's one hell of a bastard, Ludwig could sing whole musicals about that. But at the same time, he could be horribly doting if given a reason. Ludwig, also, could sing whole operas about that. (Not that he ever would, though Gilbert did indeed think that he deserved at least one or two musicals or operas.)
Ivan couldn't help the small smile creeping onto his face. "My, that sounds like fun, really. If you ever feel the need to share some stories, you know where to find me."
"You like causing people's emotional break-downs and embarrassment as much as I do, huh?"
And they shared smalls smiles, unsuspecting that there'd soon be even more to follow this one, this surprising but faintly comforting smile.
"This is... Fascinating, really. Nothing else." Gilbert slowly mumbled, inspecting the corpse. "And slightly unsettling, too, maybe."
"But I like the way you put more stress on the 'fascinating', Beilschmidt. You'd think the 'unsettling' would be the first adjective to come to mind."
He waved dismissively without even looking up at the other; his eyes still intently on the victim he answered, "Don't even pretend you didn't think the same. After our little talk earlier today I have the feeling you are just as intrigued with this as I am."
"Never said I didn't. Just surprised to find someone as fascinated as I am. Jones used to say that I was sick for not finding it disgusting and horrible before anything else." Ivan said with a small shrug; he didn't in the least mind that his partner turned out to be at least somewhat mentally disturbed. It was... Mh... Kind of refreshing, really. Even though the everyone else at work would probably grow wary of them if they knew.
"Yeah, Alfred always say he's the hero, guess that means you have to be full of moral and good qualities. He should stop seeing this world in black and white, cause it's not. It's amazing how many criminals actually have reasons, how many victims kinda deserve it, and how many sick bastards just won't go to jail cause the find a way to pay their way out."
"That is true, though there are some people that just kill cause they can. And want to. What about those? They aren't 'grey' cases... Even with them – or maybe especially with them? – the cases get really interesting." Ivan inquired, finally crouching down next to his partner, admiring the straight gash that marked the part of the body that looked the most repellent. Whoever they were dealing with was definitely sick to the core – no one should be able to inflict a wound like that with such a calm air that the whole thing looked so straight and linear. A deep wound, but not deep enough to cause a fast death. More like slowly bleeding out.
"Ha! These are the most interesting ones, even though the others might not wanna say that aloud. And also... There's really no reason to be ashamed of loving this job. After all, I get to kick these sick criminals to jail most of the time. I am able to avenge someone else. It's a good feeling, overall. ."
Ivan pondered for a second, before he nodded. He used to compare Gilbert and Alfred a lot, and now he found that they were far more from being similar than he had figured before. But it was a good thing, really.
The white-haired stood swiftly and nodded to towards the corpse with an abrupt motion. "And people like this guy are especially interesting. Ever seen a gash cut as clean as this one? Assuming that the victim was alive when that happened... He must be one cold-hearted bastard. Well, he or she. It's not that deep so I guess death was slow and painful..."
"And he knew the murderer. Because who else do you follow inside an abandoned building? No signs of resistance of any sorts, except this haematoma on the left wrist. Tried to shove the knife away, but was quickly shoved away with the handle of the knife, I'd say."
"Is the wrist broken?"
"No, and yet there are no more bruises. Perhaps he took a blow to the head? Then again... Where'd be the use in slowly letting someone bleed to death when they don't feel the pain of a slow death?"
"Or the murderer said something to make him submit. Blackmail?" Gilbert suggested. He thought for another second, before turning around to face a few other policemen of lesser rank than they were. While they nervously ran around taking photos for the records Gilbert had wasted no time to tell them not to touch anything. He found these helpers to be more of a nuisance than anything else. However, they were usual for getting information whenever he felt to lazy to do so.
"Okay, everyone. It's late, and without a pathologist's help we won't find out anything more today. You there, red-head, you call someone to clean the room, your two friends over there organize a person to get the corpse to Vladimir, I'm sure he's still at work, so he can receive it and begin examining it right away. Oh, and you there, don't think you get away with nothing," He addressed the last one who so far thought she was hiding successfully. "You'll get every piece of evidence you can get hold of and put it in Mister Braginsky's and my bureau. And once you're done, you are free to go."
After that announcement, everyone scurried away in a haste, eager to get away from the scene of crime. All, except for out favourite pair of investigators.
"This'll be interesting." Gilbert finally said, as Ivan strode towards the exit.
"I'd hope so. But I am amazed that we got the case. Usually, Arthur gives these out to teams he trusts a lot. Wouldn't think that we were that kind of pair, not after our bad start."
"He always has some kind of ulterior motives, it would seem. Not that I mind; I enjoy this way more than paper work." Gilbert replied, with a shrug. "So, you in for an after-work beer?"
The Russian halted, a little stunned. It has been years since anyone had bothered to invite him out, or even spend time with him without having to. He slowly nodded. "I'd like that, I think."
"You're a mad woman, Elizaveta," The Brit argued, "I don't know why you want them to get along so badly, but it won't happen. And I don't want them to mess a case up because of their messed up performance as a team."
The Hungarian sighed. "But do you have a choice? This might work, and that's a better option than just ignoring them the next few years, right?"
"I... reckon. But I still have doubts. These two are like cat and dog and it annoys me to no end," Arthur snorted. "If even Alfred hates Ivan, he must be horrible. And Gilbert also is difficult. I fear they both might want to do their 'own thing' and that allows the murderer to slip away. And it would be entirely my fault for listening to you. Plus, they've been spending so much time in that bureau for these past few days, I can't remember seeing anyone ever coming out of it – what if one of them lays in the corner, dead and bloody?"
She ignored his pointed glare. "Why don't we just take a look, if you're so worried? It can't be that much worse than usually."
The blond gave in with a roll of his eyes. "Sure, why not. And it is, by the way, completely amazing how none of you seem to respect me as the boss any more. What's up with that?"
Elizaveta giggled, shaking her head slowly, but did not answer this question further than that.
Arthur still grumbled under his breath, and the resolute Hungarian actually had to hush him about one or two minutes before they reached the door. While the Englishman actually hesitated when it came to opening that door, his brown-haired companion simply opened it a bit. She felt him glare rather than seeing it and she grinned. It always proved to be fun to drive Arthur nuts, especially since he always acted like scaredy-cat when it came to 'being caught doing something he shouldn't' things, and spying on his workers more than obviously was one of these things.
However, curiosity got the better of him, too, as he watched Elizaveta take a good look through the slightly opened door. Upon the Cheshire cat grin on her face, he decided to join her and also took a look. He had to suppress a loud gasping sound.
This was not the crime scene he was expecting, really.
Ivan sat on his usual chair, facing towards the door, but the look on his face so intently concentrated that he probably wouldn't notice them unless they made an entrance á la Alfred. As far as they could see, his look was directed at the several pieces of evidence that lay scattered across his desk.
So far, so expected.
But next to him, close, so close that he'd sit on Ivan's lap would he get another inch or so closer, sat Gilbert, also quite concentrated.
For a second, Arthur was thoroughly confused as to what they were doing, why they didn't argue and why Ivan didn't kill Gilbert for getting this close. Then, his eyes widened comically.
They were actually doing work? As a team? Together? Incredible!
This time, for real, Arthur gasped in amazement, only to have Elizaveta slightly kick his leg. He swallowed hard as he remembered that these two might hear him if he does anything too loud.
As Ivan and Gilbert suddenly grew quiet, the Brit and the Hungarian froze, only to relax a few seconds later, when Gilbert and Ivan still didn't seem to notice them.
However, suddenly Gilbert leaned up to Ivan's ear and whispered something, making the Russian chuckle and then nod in agreement.
Arthur and Elizaveta could do nothing more but stare as the Russian leant in, probably to answer; Gilbert, also, chuckled, before he suddenly did cross the last few centimetres separating the- and then, he sat down on Ivan's lap, crossing his ankles behind the chair's back.
"Man, these chairs sure are comfy... Though, I guess the walls and desks around here are even better."
Elizaveta swallowed hard, already knowing exactly what was going on. Office romance and yaoi scene? What more could a Fujoshi like her wish for? However, with Arthur around, she couldn't just gawk and take a picture, she figured. Grudgingly, she pulled away, grabbing the shocked Arthur's arm. "Come, we should..." She whispered, trailing off. Arthur numbly nodded and they silently closed the door before leaving the bureau behind – one of them with the intention of never come near that bureau again, and the other promising to herself to come back with equipment and her Japanese friend – and Otaku at heart – Kiku.
And only one second after the door was closed, both Ivan and Gilbert struggled to contain their laughter. For a second, Gilbert contemplated whether to go back to his chair again, of whether to keep sitting. His decisions was cut short when Ivan lazily pulled him in a tighter embrace.
"Do you think they enjoyed the show?" Ivan asked with a sly grin.
"Oh, I bet Lizzie did. She always enjoys watching two men getting at it."
"Mh, but there barely was anything to see yet, was there? I hope we did not disappoint." The Russian answered, leaning and admiring the albino's deliciously flushed face.
"Now you're just trying to embarrass me, right? I know her, she'll be back for more, hiding somewhere and filming this." The Prussian mumbled, shaking his head. The girl sure had stalking tendencies.
"Mh," Ivan hummed, before replying. "Well, we better go to Arthur and report that we know who the murderer is, so we're free tonight and can actually deliver a good performance tonight for precious little Lizzie, right?"
"And for Kiku. He'll tag along," Gilbert agreed, before blushing a deep scarlet colour. "Wait, what, no. I didn't agree just now, cause it's sick to know someone's watching you doing... You know..."
"Oh, I love it when you play hard to get, you always look so cute when you do that, Gilbert." Ivan remarked, teasing.
"Oh, kiss my arse, Ivan." Gilbert exclaimed, almost immediately realising his mistake in phrasing the insult.
"Now that's an offer I can't decline."
"Just... Damn you."
A/N: Like? Hate? No feelings at all? Well, I'd love reviews, but no pressure. As for the translations:
[1]Verdammt nochmal! - Damn it!
[2]Das ist nicht wahr. Das kann gar nicht wahr sein. Ich will das nicht. Und ich werde das ganz bestimmt nicht kampflos hinnehmen. - This is not true. This just can't be true. I don't want this. And I definitely won't accept this without a fight!
[3]Dein Leben läuft gut, mein Leben läuft Amok. - Your life goes well, my life runs amok.
Kraftklub is a German band, and the song which I quoted above is called 'Mein Leben'. Check it out, it's pretty cool, actually.