"West! I'm leaving without ya if you don't' get your scrawny aaa—butt down here!" The blond German boy quirked an eyebrow, impressed. Gilbert has been (soberly) improving his language as of late. … On a dare. If he managed to keep from cursing for a month Ludwig promised to make him a week's worth of wurst. It's been six months since he's set up the deal and he's yet to win, but he's still making progress that Ludwig hadn't expected. "Luddie!"
The blond seethed, "I told you not to call me that!"
"I'll say it awesomely as many times as I want! Now get down here before I drag you out!"
Ludwig ran a hand through his short hair. He should probably take that treat seriously considering he's followed up on it more than once before. Rolling off of his bed where he had been reading, he slipped on simple brown shoes before making his way down stairs. At least twice a month (at least) Gilbert went out to do… whatever with his friends, the rightly named "Bad Friends Trio", or, in certain scary occasions, the "Bad Touch Trio". Usually these outings didn't involve Ludwig, Gilbert's, aka Prussia's, little brother. Last they'd met though (after which Gilbert had returned home with a bloody lip, bruises, and reeking of alcohol, nothing unusual save for the lip) they decided that, being the exceptional caregivers they were, they would bring their young charges along with them next time.
Ludwig honestly didn't give a shit so long as he could find a quiet corner to finish his book, which was discreetly tucked under a brown jacket. "So where are we going?"
Before he even stepped on the final stair a strong arm hefted him up around the middle and started running out of the house, ignoring his shouts, "We are going to Francy Pant's place!"
~X~
Antonio hid behind a door to save himself from bodily harm as the deadly projectiles continued to spew from the interior of the bedroom, "Roma~, could you please stop throwing things. We need to go."
"Fuck you! Like I'm going with you to meet your pervert bastard friends!" Romano seemed to run out of things to throw because a pillow punctuated the sentence.
Toni, not usually a gambling man, stepped out from behind the door, "Romano~ Please stop th—" He dove for cover as a book whizzed with terrifying accuracy where his head had once been. He sighed, "But Lovi—"
"Don't call me that, bastard!"
"—Ludwig and… uh… er….. Francis's little one are going to be there."
"Little one? Did you just call me 'little' bastardo?"
"No, Lovi," he explained with the mutual patience of a saint, "I called… Francis's little one little." The Spaniard glanced at his cell phone and sighed. He was going to be late. "Por favor, Roma?"
"NO!"
Antonio sighed again (he been doing that more recently), "Well, there are two tomatoes left in the fridge. I'm not sure when I'm getting back but stay in the house; I wouldn't want Turkey to find you." He grabbed his coat and was just about to say good-bye to a silent Romano when the resolute boy, clad in a pink dress and whit apron, strode out and slipped on his own coat.
As he walked to the door he spoke, without turning, "I'm not staying if there are only two tomatoes left, idiot." Spain wisely did not bring up the point that the boy could go out into his garden to pick more whenever he wanted. Instead, he smiled brightly before almost skipping to follow the irate nation.
~X~
"Mathieu, come let me brush your hair." The Frenchman sat neatly on the bed, brush in hand. The young Canadian peeked around the door and smiled brightly when he saw the brush. He ran into the room and jumped onto the bed to sit in front of Francis. He smiled as the brush pulled through his blond hair. They sat in peace for a time before France spoke, "Mon cher Mathieu, our guests are coming tonight so I will be making dinner. You can play with the others if you wish."
A soon as Francis said 'guests' Matthew stiffened, smile disappearing. Francis either had England over (who usually didn't bring Alfred [they usually met at the America's house] so they were either arguing or in the bedroom) or his…friends. A shiver ran up his spine, "Mathieu, are you cold?"
"Eh, no. Wh-Who exactly is coming?"
"Just four people, not a house party. Tonio and Gilbert are bringing their sweet ones."
Matthew stifled a groan, "Their… sweet ones?"
"Oui, Ludwig and Antonio's demon Romano."
"… Ludwig? Is he a nation?"
The brushing slowed, "I'm not entirely sure. You'll have to ask him."
Matthew raised an eyebrow, really not thinking it'd be that simple. "When will they get here?"
A loud voice proclaiming his awesome boomed downstairs. Francis shrugged, "Right now."
Back! I've been looking for something to write but nothing was coming up until I remembered this -http: /www. zerochan. net/ 590550 and I just had to do something. I'm getting fond of it~
No yaoi probably. Maybe some FrUk (I don't even like that couple, why do I keep writing about them!), and some fluff, but nothing... you know...
