warning: implied NSFW (smut)

"Brother, what have you done to hurt yourself NOW?"

Ludwig raised an irritated eyebrow at his elder brother, who lay bedridden with smudges of chocolate pudding on his sterile white hospital shirt and his right leg casted and suspended in midair by wires. He had dozens of scenarios pop into his head at once: Gilbert had returned to his parkour career, he'd jumped out in front of a car 'for the vine', he'd tripped over one of those stupid good luck toys he was always conned into buying (with Ludwig's card, nonetheless) and tumbled down the stairs. Perhaps Roderich, who occupied the bedside seat and looked just as annoyed — and Ludwig wasn't the BEST at reading emotions, but did the calm and collected Austrian look… embarrassed? — as he felt, had finally snapped.

Heaving a sigh, Ludwig folded his arms. "Well?" he demanded. "I'm waiting."

Gilbert, who had been typing madly on his cell phone, froze. He shot Roderich a sidelong, wide-eyed glance and raised his eyebrows when the other shook his head with a scowl.

"I, uh," he started, causing Ludwig to raise his eyebrow even higher. Gilbert didn't stammer, he rambled, whenever he was nervous. This was rather peculiar. "..fell? Yeah, fell, that's it. I totally tripped. Guess I was too distracted by my own awesomeness and also maybe trying to chase Roddy's stupid cat — ow, don't hit an injured man! — down the steps. The little satanic bitch — oww! Stop it! — tripped me up and down, down, down I went!"

Ludwig frowned, watching Roderich deliver one last swat to his brother's chest before resigning back, folding his arms and glancing up at their visitor. Were his cheeks redder than before or was that long day at work just getting to him? Gilbert looked fine, other than the broken leg; there were no severe dings or serious bumps that usually accompanied one tripping and falling down a staircase made of oak, like the one in Roderich's home. "Are you certain?" he inquired, finally returning his eyes to meet Gilbert's. "Because you don't look like you tumbled down stairs… except for that.. that strange mark on your neck?"

"Mark? What mark?" Gilbert instantly slapped a hand up to his neck, cupping it over the dark purple-yellow bruise standing out like a sore thumb against his pale skin. Roderich buried his face in his hands and hunched over his legs, muffling what sounded like a faint swear. "There's no mark here!" Gilbert snapped, sounding pensive. It surprised Ludwig, to hear such a hostile note in his typically over-affectionate brother's voice, but he hid it well. "I hate Mark! He makes me nervous! Why are you bringing up a guy who makes me nervous, West!"

"Gilbert, you shouldn't bother hiding it because I've already noticed it. Did you tell the doctor about that?" Ludwig uncrossed his arms and took a long stride forward; he stood on the other side of Gilbert's hospital bed in three steps, towering menacingly over his bedridden brother's right side. As Gilbert gave his head a slight shake, Ludwig removed his hands from his hips and grabbed the wrist of the arm raised to cover the bruise. "Brother, let me see."

Gilbert tried drawing away, struggling to yank his arm away and keep his neck covered at the same time. "No! Th-there's nothing to see, West, I promise!"

"Gilbert, stop being difficult..!"

"I'm not being difficult! Leave me alone, West!"

"Gilbert, it could be serious!"

"Okay, FINE!" Gilbert ripped his arm out of Ludwig's grip, wincing as his shoulder gave a slight pop. He frowned, eyes lowering and lips drawing into a thin, broad line. His fist clenched a handful of his bedsheets.

Ludwig bent slightly, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head. There were multiple bruises littering the pale skin of Gilbert's neck, but the most prominent one, the darkest shade of splotchy plum purple, bloomed around what appeared to be a set of crescent-shaped teeth marks. With raised eyebrows and a sudden flustered feeling making his face feel hot, Ludwig inspected the more faint markings, only to find the same results: bruises, from bitemarks.

Hickeys.

He shot a stunned glimpse over to Roderich, finding him still doubled over, his ears bright red. Yes, Ludwig had noticed the damp towels draped across the foot of the bed but he'd thought that they'd been used to mop up a spill or something, not dry wet heads of hair..

Ludwig straightened, both a cold shudder roll down his spine and a prickling heat spread through his cheeks and ears. "Brother," he said warily, his throat suddenly drying out. "..did you—"

"YES," Gilbert blurted out, his volume at shouting level. "I WAS FUCKING RODDY HARD IN THE SHOWER AND SLIPPED ON SOAP AND BROKE MY GODDAMN LEG."

Roderich shot up straight, his glasses-less face — had they not had enough time to gather their proper selves? — flushing a dark, dark pink. "Gilbert!" he shrieked, gripping the arm of his chair tightly enough for his knuckles to turn white. "Stop screaming, you fool! That is no one's business but ours and—"

"HE STARTED IT," Gilbert continued, still yelling at the top of his lungs, "BY SNEAKING INTO MY SHOWER WHILE I WAS SHAMPOOING MY AWESOME HAIR. HE GAVE ME THE LOOK — YOU KNOW, THE LOOK — AND IT WAS SO DAMN HOT, I SWEAR TO GOD I DON'T KNOW HOW I MANAGED TO STAND FOREPLAY."

"GILBERT!" Ludwig and Roderich shouted at the same time. But his younger brother's and boyfriend's utter humiliation (and disturbance, on Ludwig's part) didn't deter Gilbert from continuing to rant nervously.

"THERE WAS SOAP EVERYWHERE BUT JESUS, HE WANTED IT RIGHT THEN AND THERE. I'M GETTING HORNY JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW SEXY IT WAS. THERE WERE NO BENCHES SO THE WALLS WOULD HAVE TO DO. IT WAS KINDA AWKWARD TO MANUVEUR BUT I MANAGED TO PUT IT IN AND CHRIST ALMIGHTY, THE WAY HE MOANED WAS ALMOST WORTH THIS WHOLE INCIDENT. IT FELT SO GOOD, TO FUCK IN A SHOWER, AND I WAS SO FUCKING CLOSE TO COMING WHEN I SLIPPED ON MY OWN SHAMPOO SOAP AND BROKE MY GODDAMN LEG.

"THERE, WEST," Gilbert snarled, his volume dropping dramatically as he leered up at Ludwig, eyeing the other as he stared blankly at a spot on the bedsheets, blue eyes round and face as red as a fire engine. "HAPPY NOW?!"

"Non," a lilting voice answered from the door. Ludwig, Gilbert and Roderich looked over to see a smug, smirking François leaning against the doorframe, Antonio and the little Italian brothers crowded right behind him in the hall. "He isn't, obviously. But we are, mon ami~"