Arthur likes to think highly of himself, while others see a man with caterpillar eyebrows, when he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees a bloody genius. The Brit convinced himself that everything that frog could do, he could do too, even if that meant setting aside his image as the serious one of the group.
His friends, or rather, acquaintances took April Fools to a whole new level. One week in a cottage, owned by some geezer Gilbert knew, near a lake in the middle of nowhere, as far as he was concerned that is, spent by the participants of each year. The one with the most points, wins the title of king and the betted sum of money.
Apparently, the albino's grandfather didn't trust him around other people's property, nor his own for that matter, so he sent the younger Ludwig to keep an eye on them, which he wasn't to keen on doing himself anyway. For just one time, he'd allow his brother and his mental friends to just do whatever they wanted, as long as they left him in peace.
Arthur knew of this,
yet Katarina's appearance wasn't included.
"Hey, isdatchu, Lud?" a drunken slur came from the dark corner of the room. While the others were out swimming and fishing, the Brit decided it was time to strike. He opened the wrong door, yet again. Suddenly, her body latched onto his, she smelled of grapes. Before he knew it, he lost his balance in surprise, having the Italian straddle him.
"Romano, what are you-" the Englishman sniffed at the air escaping slightly parted lips, he then realized the Italian reeked of alcohol, red wine to be exact. He extended his arms to push her off quickly, if Ludwig were to walk in on them, it could have ended differently. With more violence and profanities than he would ever want. "A-Are you- drunk?"
She slurred inaudible curses, trying to stand on her own. Arthur watched the struggling, poorly dressed woman, he could have helped ber, being raised as a gentleman, yet her reaction was his only fear. She could harm him or even worse, straddle and touch again, the image of the younger German having an angrier expression than usual made him shudder in fear.
A lightbulb lit above his head, comically, he had the greatest way to get payback, that frog tried to wax his eyebrows in his sleep, there was no way he would let that go unpunished. He looked around the room, grabbed some of the clothing that lay around on the floor among other forgotten things.
"This is the best idea I've ever had in my entire life."
"CHIGI!"
The familiar noise of an upset Katarina woke all the residents up. Ludwig, naturally, was first to rush to her room, not seeing her there was a bit of a suprise. The clothing she wore yesterday evening trailed to the hallway, he knew it was hers, she forced him to buy them afterall. So her denim shorts and green blouse lay there among other discareded items, that belonged to a male, Francis.
He followed them, they seemed to be scattered everywhere, as if the two were in a rush to remove them.
But- did that mean- he- they- Francis and Katarina? No way?
"What the-?" the German growled. As if on cue, the tired Antonio made his appearance, rubbing the sleep out his eyes and yawning. The two stand in silence as the tan fellow noticed how deep the frown of the younger man is. Though he was a morning person, he understood others weren't, but Ludwig wasn't seriously upset over the time of day, was he?
"Mi amigo, what's going on?" the Spanish friend placed his hand on the shoulder of the processing German.
Antonio is once again ignored, they followed the last few articles of clothing only to stand in front of the wooden door where Francis' room sat behind. The Spaniard frowned as a stringy article sat alone in the corner near the wall, he hesitated to pick it up, yet the patterns seemed familiar.
"Are those- are those panties?" he pointed at the red underwear.
Before he got his answer the door flung open, the Frenchman had a pair of hands around his neck and Katarina tried to sooth the situation with cursing and pulling. You would think the commotion attracted the other residents, but while Gilbert considers dragging his feet to the scene and Alfred plain doesn't give damn, Francis runs out of oxygen.
"Need. Air!" Francis choked, dangling his feet, Ludwig held his firm grip, as if he truly attended to kill the hopeless blond. While Antonio still tried his best to keep the German from murdering one-third of the Bad Friends Trio, his luck was running out. The sound of unfamiliar, unholy laughing rung in their ears.
"I got you good, didn't I!" Arthur giggles and snorts, the momentary confusion causes Ludwig to loosen his grip, allowing the near dead Frenchman to breathe in air, sweet, precious air. Katarina covers her bare legs with the fluffy robe, trying to comprehend what her place was in the current situation.
It was already unclear what had happened after she woke up, instead of seeing the white wall in her room or even Ludwig, the Frenchmen's sleeping face was all that she saw, both of them panicked after she screamed bloody murder, not knowing what to do. After realising she was indeed nude and wrapped in sheets, she started to feel nauseous, what had happened?
After Ludwig stormed in and tried to choke the life out of the trembling Francis, it was anyone's guess. The short woman refused to believe she actually shared a bed with the romancer. She wouldn't even let him anywhere near her body, let alone do the nasty. Katarina flushed in embarrassment and growled, "This was all a fuckin' joke?!"
"A triple prank to be exact, nine points! I am a bloody genius!" he celebrated awkwardly, this was unlike the usual Arthur, the black sheep of the group. While the French blond rubbed the many sore spots on his neck, the Italian quickly gathered her clothes and simultaneously examined the state of them. If there just one tiny, unnoticeable hole or loose thread in her new roll up blouse, Arthur would have to pay with his life.
She might not have paid for it herself but dammit, that thing looked so good on her!
"How'd you do that, amigo?." Antonio asked, the Briton smugly disregarded the question and headed back to his bed, the show had been nice, but the warmth of his bed was nicer. Before his nemesis had the chance to even try to release the fury, nine stripes were added to the chalkboard that hung in the hallway.
Arthur, nine points, were it not for the joke he pulled, he would still have zero. others had more successful missions behind them. Antonio, seven victorious pranks, even a double. Alfred, often the one being targeted, had only four. Gilbert was unbeaten with a whopping score of seventeen, containing one quadruple prank, securing a record and his new title. Francis didn't even try anymore after day two, his only goal was to embarrass the Brit as much as possible, eleven. Matthias, though he was another self-proclaimed genius, tied with the Frenchman and had eleven points as well.
"I didn't think this was funny at all, I mean, I nearly killed him."
There was a pregnant pause after Ludwig had said that ever so casually.
"Sorry for that, by the way" the German apologized by nearly breaking the romancer's arm with a punch he deemed not hard enough to really hurt anyone. As Francis collapsed in pain, the newly dressed Italian stepped over his body, not particularly carefull, and grabbed her boyfriend by the hand, leading them elsewhere, muttering all kinds of curses in both her native tongue and English.
Antonio kneeled next to his pouting friend, "Would you like some churros, amigo?"
This was so much fun to write, please let me know if you see ANY errors, even a misplace of the commas or whatever.