Mon Zwei Amantes
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy is a man in search of true love. Gilbert Beilschmidt is a man in search of an exciting adventure. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is a man in search of a reason to stay true to himself. Put them all together, we get friendship, romance, angst and a very unusual kind of love that not only two individuals share, but all three.
A FrancexPrussiaxSpain fanfic
Rating: It's safely K for now
Chapter 1: A Night In Berlin
It was a fairly cold evening in Germany. But Francis Bonnefoy was a man not easily intimidated by the weather or any kind of obstacle for that matter—even if it was a cold, clawing fear that maybe Berlin wasn't the ideal place to really be in tonight. No, Francis ignored that and he had told himself to stay positive, that tonight, he would finally find what he needed to find.
So in his fairly classy white party suit over a dark purple vest and lilac shirt, white tie striped with thin but well-distanced light-purple lines and well-shined shoes, the Frenchman—with fair, strawberry-blond, shoulder-length hair and beautiful, sharp, dancing blue eyes and a barely-there, gorgeous stubble—pulled his car to a stop a block away from the local club in Berlin where he was currently searching.
What was he searching for? Well, it was love, of course. And not just love, he was searching for true love. The type that came with the fantastic fluttering feeling of his stomach, the protectiveness over that one person from whatever harm, the undeniable passionate and intoxicating heat that would arise between them from time to time, the helplessness when it came to saying yes to that person because of his or her adorable, sweet, cute pleas and requests, the calmness that would overcome him whenever that person is around, the world-changing love that would make him want to do anything for that person, the desire to give him or her everything, the wonderful appreciation Francis would feel whenever he'd awake in the morning and find that person sleeping so soundly and beautifully next to him and many other things. In return, that person would cuddle with him, maybe cook for him and maybe feed him too, play dress-up and seduce him, kiss him when he was down, tell him he was the greatest lover anybody could ever ask for and truly make him feel that way, probably sing him to sleep at one point or two while his head rested on his or her lap, go out on dates with him with utmost pride in the fact that Francis has that person and that person has Francis and many other things. Francis longed for a love like that.
He'd read so much from novels, short stories, myths, and fairy tales (yes, even fairy tales; but hey, what's not to love? They're girly, yes, but only if you're immature enough to overlook their true messages) and he had heard so much from close friends and parents about true love. And all he'd wanted was to find his own and just love that person until his last breathe and make sure that that person will love him back just as much.
And so it was inevitable that he would become a romantic, and a helpless one at that. Francis left home and started to travel the world since his eighteenth birthday, longing for that magnificent, perfect person to be found one day. He could not wait after all.
He worked while he traveled, of course. He did whatever decent work he could find in the few months that he'd be staying in a town. And while he worked, he would search. On his way to work and home, he'd search.
And when he thought he'd found the ideal lover, he'd get to know them, date them and then realize that that person was not the one. At first, his heart had always been broken. But as time passed on and as more ladies and men he got to know, Francis learned to control his grief. He learned not to dig so deep into the relationship just yet and wait for that person to make a move as well and give hints that she or he wanted the relationship to last and not just the relationship in bed.
Yet they always kept Francis waiting. And he'd always find that in the end, every single one so far has been a failure and he had never truly felt happy with the different men and women he's been with for the past six years.
After searching for more than half the time he's promised himself to search, Francis was losing hope. He had vowed to his parents and friends after all on his eighteenth birthday, just before leaving Paris, that after ten years, he would come back and introduce his one true love to them all. Then he'd settle down with that person.
Francis sighed as he got out of his car and made his way pass the bouncer who had always let him pass through even when he didn't need to show him an ID or give him money. Francis was a regular here after all and he was well-known around the night clubs as one who knew everyone. Thus, in this bouncer's logic, anyone who knew everyone would automatically be a VIP, Francis mused.
The hot, humid air inside the club greeted the Frenchman with the loud party music that mostly consisted of a constant beating low bass and less of lyrics—not ideally romantic in Francis's opinion. But it will have to do if it will help him find that person.
He checked the bar at the far left from the door to see if his usual seat was taken. A smile only formed on his lips when he saw that it was not. To make it better, someone was even sitting on the stool just right next to his.
Francis made his way through the dancing crowd until he reached the bar. "The usual please," he told the bartender who smiled at him with a look of familiarity and immediately worked on the wine spritzer that the Frenchman had always ordered.
While he waited, Francis glanced at the man beside him who was staring at a half-empty mug of beer in front of him, oblivious to the world. And even under the dim lighting and erratic flashing in the club, he could see that the man was breathtaking. His hair, Francis guessed was bleached to a very pale blond, reflected the colors of the neon lights. And even from profile, Francis could make out the defined and beautiful features.
Other than that, the man was not only beautiful in form but also in fashion. What he wore was not something as fitting to the occasion as Francis was wearing but it complimented him and made him even seem more enticing. For starters, he had on a black leather jacket that didn't look too intimidating or too tough for him. Under that jacket was a grey-white shirt what reflected the different pink hues of the neon lights that went under the bar table. Between the jacket and shirt was a large red scarf loosely hanging around his fine-looking neck. And the rest was denim pants and well-worn (not worn out) Nike's.
Francis was served his drink and he thanked the bartender. He took a sip and then turned to face the man. He cleared his throat and spoke in lightly-accented German with a slight mix of his natural dialect. "Excuse me, mon ami."
The man only glanced sideways at him before going back to staring at his beer. But his look was not as far-away as it had been before. Francis continued when nothing more was done.
"Hm…" he hummed as he inspected those eyes from where he sat. It was clear that this man was heartbroken. He'd seen that look in his own eyes years ago. And he could tell that it was a fresh heartbreak. A few hours to half a day, at least was his guess from when either a dumping or a traitorous act caught red-handed had happened. "Had a rough night, have we?"
"What do you care?" Was the curt reply from the German.
Francis smiled and took another graced sip. "Well, it's not that I should really interfere or 'care' because clearly your problems are your own," he said smoothly, calmly. "But I will care tonight because I'm worried about heartbroken men like you. We're alike in more ways than one, you know."
The German seemed to be contemplating whether to keep talking to the Frenchman or to ignore him again. Francis didn't wait for him to decide. He just went on. "Besides, I find it odd that you would still be alone tonight…" he said as he turned back to his drink. "I mean, with a beautiful night like tonight, you should be celebrating, enjoying life and…"
Francis looked around. He saw a sign on the wall, one of the club's mottos. Then he glanced back at the German and found himself shocked to see that the beautiful face was finally looking at him fully. He smiled and mumbled the last bit of what he read on the sign.
"Drinking deep."
"Drinking deep?"
They both said at the same time.
Laughter overcame the both of them for a while and Francis mentally sighed at the beautiful sound of laughter that came from the German stranger. He also observed that this man was much more beautiful if he smiled and laughed like that and didn't scowl or talk curtly just like he did less than fifteen seconds ago.
The sudden attitude change did not bother Francis very much. After all, with that smile gracing the German's lips and a laugh emitting from him, with his beautiful almost-red eyes finally reflecting enjoyment and with whatever sorrow or grief was forgotten and pushed to the back of his mind, how could he not look perfect? And how could Francis ever let a moment pass without appreciating this beauty?
"I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt," the German said, holding his hand out and smile remaining. Francis could smell the bit of beer from him and he could tell that the German might really have been drinking deep since he got here.
"Francis Bonnefoy," Francis beamed with joy as he shook the equally warm hand. Now they were getting somewhere.
He saw Gilbert's eyebrows shoot up in an impressed manner and his head slightly turned sideways. "So you're a foreigner after all," he said as he let go and rested his elbow on the bar. "I thought I'd heard an accent to your German."
"Yes, I'm from France," Francis said as he took another refined sip from his glass.
"Well, look at that," Gilbert mumbled, making the strawberry blond look at him with amused confusion. "Ah, it's nothing. And I am sorry for being rude earlier. I was having a rather unawesome night."
"Ah…" Francis nodded in understanding. "Let me guess, it was a woman, wasn't it?"
Gilbert laughed again. Francis patiently waited with amusement as he absorbed the albino's reactions and his rather playful personality. "Isn't it always?"
"Not always," Francis chuckled eloquently as he turned back to the bar and took another sip.
Gilbert finished his drink and called the bartender for a refill before he turned back to Francis. "Well, you look like the kind who's had a lot of relationships. Think you can take a wild guess on how mine went?" he asked good-naturedly.
Francis was quite surprised that Gilbert was so open to him. He was unlike most who'd rather not talk about recent break-ups. And the fact that he was a little terse about it earlier gave confusion to the Frenchman.
Gilbert, Francis mused, gave the vibes who'd rather live the moment and let the past just be the past, nothing more.
"You sure?" The Frenchman said. "I mean I might just hit the right mark and all…"
"Oh? So you're confirming that you're actually an expert at this?" Gilbert challenged, grinning in amusement.
"Let's just say I'm the type who's always… failed himself in love much too many times than I'd want," Francis said. "But, you know, I get used to it and it doesn't bother me much anymore…"
"I see. Alright, let's put it that way if you wish," Gilbert said, the amusement in his eyes never leaving even if his smile fell a little at Francis's sad love history—which was so nonchalantly said. "So, how about it? Can you guess just what I went though, mister veteran?"
"Hm… If I guessed right, will there be some sort of prize for me? Other than another score to my experience points meter, of course," Francis said equally playfully. He didn't want the fun to be over just yet, after all.
Gilbert paused and thought about it, smile not leaving his face. "You're a foreigner, right? How long have you been staying in awesome Berlin?"
"I just got here last week." And since then, he'd been going through every street, restaurant and club to look for that one person.
"Oh? Then you haven't seen the best, awesomest places to celebrate yet," Gilbert said with a wide smile. "How about I bring you to my favorite place some time? It's really awesome."
Francis looked at Gilbert with false hesitation, taking note of the 'awesome' verbal habit. "Hm… I don't know," he said teasingly with a smile. After a while of realizing that he was actually quite comfortable already with this person around him, Francis gave his answer. "All right, then."
Gilbert beamed delightedly and Francis thought he can take it no more. The flashing grin on that man's face was too beautiful.
"So I'm guessing your girlfriend dumped you, didn't she?" Francis said.
"How so?"
"I can only think of two things that will make you order a drink and stare at it half the time you're here. It's either you've been dumped by your girlfriend and you're grieving, wondering and pondering what you did wrong. Or you caught her with another man and you're most likely planning a revenge plan. But you don't look very angry and usually very angry concerns revenge which would lead us to the second option.
"So I'm assuming that you've been dumped because you also had that lonely, broken-hearted look in your eyes. How's that?" Francis asked. He didn't point out the fact that while he was explaining, something fell in Gilbert's smile and he gave clear signs that it was the former option that might have been the situation he'd been in.
"You've got awesome perception, friend," Gilbert said, his smile widening. "That or you really have had your heart broken much too many times."
"Honestly, I think it's both," Francis said and they both shared a laugh once more.
"So, what brings you here, Francis?" Gilbert asked after they'd both calm down. "Why come to Berlin?"
"Well for me I'm just traveling the world to look for a certain somebody," Francis said modestly.
"Oh? And who might this someone be?" Gilbert asked with interest. "A brother? A friend? An awesome girl?"
"Actually, I don't know yet."
"Huh?" Gilbert only said, blinking in confusion and probably wondering if he heard right. Francis got that reaction a lot from whoever he told his story to.
"That's right, I don't know who this person is," Francis continued as he took a sip from his drink. "I don't know if he's a he or if she's a she. I don't know if this person is French, German, Asian, American, or what. I don't know if this person is blond or a brunette or a raven or a redhead."
Francis's blue eyes traveled to where Gilbert's were and he felt captivated by them—their intensity as he listened to Francis. And Francis could hear himself mentally wishing, hoping, praying that Gilbert is the one. Because those beautiful almost-red eyes were alluring and Francis could feel himself drowning in them, falling so deep into them that he almost didn't feel like he wanted to get out.
Gilbert's cell phone suddenly rang and he answered it, breaking their eye contact. While he was busy, Francis shrugged and went back to his drink, finishing it. He asked the bartender for a refill. While he was waiting, he smiled to himself, knowing he might have just found the one.
"Awesome. I'll meet you there then," Francis could hear Gilbert saying. "Hey, I'll bring a friend, how's that?"
Francis wondered if it was him Gilbert was talking about. Surely, it wasn't him, he assured himself. He was not going to get his hopes high. He never did anymore, even if this was just a friendly chat; because he knew that friendly chats can lead elsewhere and usually, where they led, he would suffer in the end. Years of having your heart broken can do that—they can dampen your spirits and make you such a pessimist.
But at least this way, Francis can make sure that surprising things will stay surprising and the sickening, horrible heartbreaks will stay at a minimum.
The blond man sighed and forced himself to stop thinking about those things. He's finally met a man who was strangely making him feel so comfortable and this man just might be the one. All Francis needed to know was one thing, the same thing he's been looking for from all those others—if he was capable of loving back just as much.
"Hey, Francis," Gilbert said, turning back to him. He was beaming with what seemed like excitement and Francis can't say that he wasn't blinded by it. "I've got an awesome friend I want you to meet. And since you're new here, how about we go to my brother's boyfriend's restaurant and get ourselves some awesome dinner? I bet you guys would totally get along well together."
Francis smiled back, deciphering Gilbert's statement. He has a brother who has a boyfriend which means he might as well be super open to same sex relationships. That was a good sign. Other than that, it also sounded as if the albino was asking him out for a date. Or maybe he really is. Either way, it promised Francis's usually well-controlled heart a light, soaring feeling and a lot of hope.
"Okay." He paid for his two rounds and told the bartender that he can have the refill for himself, who smiled gratefully back at him.
The German paid for his own bill before he left the bar. Francis followed after him shortly. They both treaded past the drunken dancers on the noisy, crowded, flashing dance floor.
The cold night air met their faces. As they stepped pass the bouncer, Gilbert looked back at Francis and stood there, contemplating about something.
"Hey, do you have a car?" the German asked after a few seconds.
"Yes," Francis said, pulling out his keys. "You?"
"Well, my ex's apartment is a few streets away from here so I walked," Gilbert said. Then he looked at Francis and his face broke into another blinding smile. "Care to give me a ride then?"
"I'd love to," Francis replied playfully. He led the way this time to his car, showing Gilbert the shiny, red Mitsubishi eclipse.
"Awesome," Gilbert said, making Francis laugh as he unlocked the doors with the small remote that came with the keys and went around to the driver's side.
"Hop in," Francis said. He fastened his seatbelt and turned on the radio as Gilbert excitedly got in and did his own safety belts. Francis tuned into a channel he found that aired foreign (some American and some more known European) songs.
The blond also noticed that under the car's dim lighting this German didn't have pale blond hair. He had white hair! Well, not that it was wrong or revolting (Francis appreciated the beauty inside and outside; though he learned to looked into the inside more than the outside over the years), it was just unusual and new to him.
"So where to?" the Frenchman asked after revving up the car. He hadn't really driven around a lot in the big city yet so he can never know where to go unless it was a familiar street he'd been through before. Then again, he always had his trusty map and navigator, as well as this hot German inside the car with him.
Gilbert grinned and delightedly pointed out directions while Francis drove. They passed a few roads and streets Francis has been through, went around a few curves that slightly gave Francis an idea where this and that can be found throughout the city. All the while, Gilbert also told him a lot about Berlin—pointing out a few easy-to-remember structures, landmarks and roads, telling him where a street led to and what could be found in it, where to get a good few products or find good places, and other informative things. It was not long before they arrived at a less crowded part in the city.
The German pointed to a lively-looking place where a couple of neon lights traced the letters of the words Francis read as: Die kleinen italienischen Restaurant. From inside emitted soft, yellow lights and a bubbly jazz tune. Francis smiled at The Little Italian Restaurant's warm atmosphere. He wondered if this restaurant gave as much a good vibe as it did inside.
Gilbert led the way in, opening the door to a restaurant that gave an even livelier ambiance. The live band's jazz tunes flowed merrily into Francis's ears; the soft lighting gave comfort and a bit of a homey feel to him; the scent of appetizing food filled his nose; and that smile—Oh, Francis wondered if it could blind him no more—that Gilbert gave him was just beautiful.
Francis was led deeper into the little restaurant to the bar where a man with dark brown hair, pretty russet eyes and a bit of a scowl on his face was throwing around bottles and cups and shakers with very quick and practiced hands. It was obvious from his appearance that he was also a foreigner to this country and Francis wondered if he was the man Gilbert was talking about or the Italian who was manning the restaurant.
In front of him, another foreigner, with the same dark-colored but somewhat curly hair, slightly tanned skin and attention-grabbing green eyes, Francis noticed, sat leaning on the bar, watching the bartender intently. Francis noticed that he did not seem Italian or German. What made him more interested however was the fact that he felt like he'd already seen this man somewhere before and he was strangely pulling Francis in as Gilbert was.
"Hey, Lovi," Gilbert greeted and the Italian looked up at him, his scowl deepening a little. Francis wondered if it was from annoyance or if he was having a bad night as well. The man only harrumphed in reply to the German. Francis couldn't help but judge this person as someone rude and maybe easily-irritated, though he was kind of cute.
"Antonio!" Gilbert said as he came over to the other man. He put a friendly arm around the familiar man and Francis can't help but feel a bit of jealousy there. He didn't let it show and instead just smiled at the attractive stranger. "Francis, this is my best friend, Antonio. Antonio, Francis."
"Nice to meet you, Francis," the familiar man said, reaching a hand to Francis, who took it and shook. Even his voice sounded familiar. The Frenchman could hear a slight accent to his German as well. Not French, it didn't sound Italian either. Was that maybe Spanish? His name sounded Spanish enough.
"Pleasure to meet you as well," Francis replied, smiling politely yet eying Antonio acquisitively. "Say, have we met at some place before?"
"Hm?" Antonio cocked his head to the side a little, an amused smile on his face, as if he was thinking the same thing. "I wonder. You look pretty familiar yourself. Did I owe you money?"
Francis laughed. "I don't suppose so. Oh, I'm sure we'll remember in due time anyway, won't we?" he said, eyes sparkling as much as Antonio's were.
Gilbert called them over, breaking the eye contact between them and beckoning for them to get to the empty table where he was standing by.
As Francis moved to sit at the table with his two new friends (or possible prey), he knew he didn't make a mistake when he decided to be positive about tonight.
A/N: Aah! I'm sorry if I can't update the others and here I am starting a new one. I'm really, really, really into this plot and it developed so fast that I felt like I could go on and on… Well, for chapter one anyway.
And please forgive me if I write with OOCness here because I can't really get a good grip on Francis's character. I know he's supposed to be a flirt but in here, I want him to be… much more modest, I guess, and more romantic. I will still try to keep him as a… um, a flirt in here somehow.
You might say that the same somehow goes for Antonio and Gilbert here but no. Gilbert will stay awesome (and he's actually just warming up to Francis and he's had a bad day so he says awesome less) and Antonio will continue to be Antonio (though he may pose a few unusual traits that you might not usually see, and I don't even know what those are yet).
Does the title make sense though? I think it kinda does. Though I'm not sure if I should have used mes instead of mon. Nah, maybe not… or… ugh, I don't know.
Anyways, I'd love you guys so much if you take the time to review^^ Oh, and thank you all so much for taking the time to read this rather random, totally-uncalled-for, and maybe-a-little-morally-wrong (okay, let's not just, you know, indulge into the fact that it actually is a whole lot more than a little morally wrong because we're awesome fangirls/fanguys like that) story.