Okay, so, this is unconventional of me as I don't usually do AUs but it was the only way I could think of making this request work. This is for Flufflebooty who requested a PruCan fic with inspiration from Say Anything's song Alive With The Glory of Love.
I hope I didn't disappoint, here it is!
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The sun shined, the clouds blew in the wind high in the sky, birds flew and sang… But off in the distance of this tranquil French countryside drove a group of old German-made cars. They drove shakily on the old dirt road heading for a small farmhouse.
The drivers all parked their cars behind their leader's on the hill. The well-respected (but decidedly odd in appearance) leader stepped out of his car, straightening his uniform. A few of his men walked up to him, saluting until he told them to be at ease.
"Stay here." Their commander ordered, "I'll signal if your assistance is needed." The men saluted again and he nodded to him, they going back to their cars to wait.
Amidst their exchange, the owner of the house had opened the door and was leaning on the frame. His blonde hair was pulled back loosely at the base of his neck and swung over his shoulder, his blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Bonjour." The strange Nazi greeted the Frenchman, a "benevolent" smile on his face. The wind blew his silver locks, the sun beautifully dancing off the strands and making his ruby-red eyes sparkle.
"Bonjour…" The blonde replied likewise, looking over the approaching man's shoulder at his companions that seemed to be itching to raise their guns.
"Come on Francis, aren't you going to invite me in?" The Frenchman's old friend asked, a little bit of his sly self working into his smile.
"I am confused, Gilbert… Why is a Nazi pig like you here?" If he were anyone else but Francis, Gilbert would have raised his gun up high and shot him right then and there. But, since it was Francis, the albino took it with a simple chuckle.
"You know vhy I'm hier." he said with a swiftly dimming smile. "Dis ist de only place he coult be." Gilbert hissed and Francis rolled his eyes, irritated beyond belief.
"You must be joking monsieur." Francis laughed mockingly, "He high-tailed eet outta hier to our broz'er een Amereeca. You remember Alfred?" Gilbert rolled his eyes.
"Cahn I please come ihn Francis?" He insisted and the Frenchman's brow furrowed angrily.
"Noh, you listen to me-" Gilbert shoved the man inside, casting a warning glance over his shoulder at his men before closing the door behind him.
"You ahre nod ihn any position to be ortering me arount, Francis." Gilbert growled under his breath, beginning to pace away from him. "I ahm nod hier to make var."
"I beg to diffeer." The younger of the two began to step away. "You expect me to sell out dee location of my own broz'er. Even if he was heir,-"
"I ahm going to schtop you dere." Gilbert held up a gloved finger, "I ahm nod… Really, Francis, you ahre my besd freund." The Frenchman looked away, scoffing, there was no way in Hell this man was going to get him to believe him. This man who had somehow through all odds managed to be of complete Prussian heritage was a master of lies and tricks. Before the war started, before his goddamn Chancellor had taken over, this was a good thing. Now that he had been through the military training though… Francis sincerely doubted much good was left in him. "Und Mathieu…" Gilbert looked away and Francis braced himself for the next lie about to come from his mouth. "You know." His red eyes came back and bored into the Frenchman, spelling out what the Prussian was not going to say.
"I cannot trust to tell you where he ees. I can tell you zat he ees not een Amereeca zough. He resides wizin Arthur's nation, but he refused to take heem een." Francis explained, surprising Gilbert by bothering to completely pronounce Arthur's name. The brothers were on constant bad terms as of late, they had never gotten along too well, but in the past few years it had gotten worse.
"You know, Francis, id's nod goot dat you ahre lying to me." Gilbert tapped his boot on the floor, it resonating hollowly beneath it.
"So what? I have a cellar." There was a nervous ring to his voice and Gilbert knew he had found where Matt had been hiding. The silverette smirked, chuckling in the back of his throat, "Gilbert… Please…" The pleading in Francis' eyes told all; why in Hell had the dumb blonde picked this brother to hide with? "You claim to be my friend." Francis was working hard to pronounce all his words accent-free. "You claim to feel something for Mathieu… But here you are. All dolled up like the Nazi you are, a contradictory one at that."
Gilbert's brow furrowed, "Mathieu. I'm nod going to hurd you, I jus' vant to see you." he said to the air, infuriating Francis, making him stomp his foot.
"He is not here!" The blonde one roared, a mortified look coming over his face at the tapping from the underside of the floor. A smirk twisted Gilbert's face and Francis swore he could feel his heart stop.
"My, my… Harboring a fugidive? I coult kill you now und dat liddle brad." Francis grabbed for a large chopping knife when Gilbert brandished his gun. "Bud, dat's nod vhat I'm going to do." The white-knuckled grip Francis had on the knife told Gilbert that he would not hesitate to stab him if need be. "Led me indo de kellar now."
"You must be mad monsieur." The other hissed, Gilbert cocked and held up his gun at him, Francis' eyes flicking to it for a moment.
"Vhich of us do you dink ist fasder?" Gilbert challenged, quirking his brow as if there was only one very obvious answer.
"You traitorous pig." Francis spat at his ex-friend's feet, shoving the small kitchen table aside to reveal the entry to the cellar. He pulled the trapdoor open and looked up to Gilbert who just motioned for him to go down inside. Narrowing his eyes, Francis grudgingly complied, climbing down into the mostly empty room. Gilbert followed him down, closing the door behind him, just barely avoiding Francis stabbing him with his knife. He made quick work of him, grabbing and twisting his wrist until he dropped the knife.
"I tolt you, I'm nod heir to fighd you." The albino whispered calmly into Francis' ear. "I only vand to see Mathieu." He released the blonde and shoved him away, lighting a match and locating a candle on a small cabinet nearby.
"G-Gil?" Came a small voice from somewhere in the corner of the room. Sighing audibly, Gilbert looked to the small strawberry blonde tucked away in the corner, slowly rising himself up. For a few moments, the Nazi stood there and stared at him. It had been at least two years since he had last had the ability to see him. And now that he was so close… Gilbert lit the candle and handed it to the very annoyed blonde behind him, putting his gun away.
"Ja Mathieu, id's me." Gilbert's shoulders looked tense, Mathieu's trust in him being dubious at best. The Prussian took two tentative steps forward, expecting either Mathieu to back away or Francis to chuck that candle at him, when neither happened he smiled. "I'fe misst you." Then Gilbert made a face looking back over his shoulder momentarily "Bode of you."
"I've missed you too." Mathieu said timidly, still unsure about whether or not Gilbert was being truthful earlier.
"Den come hier." The albino opened his arms to him, Mathieu slowly walking over to him to put his own around him. Gilbert held him tightly even as sobs began to rack Mathieu's frame. "I'm sorry. Soh sorry." He apologized sincerely, "I nefer schoult hef-"
"Gil…" Mathieu looked at him, Gilbert's hand coming up to wipe away the tears, "If you hadn't I wouldn't be here. You didn't let them take me." Gently, they pressed their lips together, Francis respectfully averting his eyes from the pair. "Bruises are superficial and heal. I still love you." The light smile on Gilbert's face spread.
"I schtill lof you too." They kissed again, deeper this time, Mathieu's hands threading into the hair they had been missing. "I voult screw you now if I coult." The younger man giggled and Gilbert remembered the first time he had told the Frenchman he was in love with his youngest brother. Livid didn't properly express the intensity of his anger. There was a considerable age difference (Gilbert now being thirty-five and Mathieu barely even twenty-five), Gilbert was a military man just like his own brother, a trickster-unscrupulous by nature, and Francis' childhood friend. "Bud, I cahn'd led you schtay heir."
That gave both of the blondes in the room pause, "What?" Francis asked, skeptical again that his old friend wasn't being completely honest in his motives. Mathieu tried to push away from him, but Gilbert was loathe to let him go, he had been so stupid to do so before and he wasn't going to yet.
"Bode of you… I don'd vand you to schtay hier. You neet to leaf France."
"And? How do you propose we do so? You obviously were ordered to come here, which means I am under suspicion. If I suddenly up and leave I will be pursued." Francis folded his arms, still holding the candle. Gilbert nodded, his friend had been right.
"I vill arrange for your leaf." He looked back down to Mathieu in his arms, "Und den, I vill join you." Well, there was a surprise, the two civilians' brows went up in curiosity.
"I ahm loyal to my schtade, nod to some… Prad of a leater. He hes ruint us. De economy, oh, ja dat's gread, bud vhat of our decency? I joint feeling dat I vas prodecding de nation, nod killing innocent people fur being differend." To say that Gilbert sounded mad would have been the understatement of the year. "Und, if I don'd manage to ged my arsch oud, I vill take ahs many of de fuckers vid me ahs I cahn."
Mathieu's embrace became tighter, making Gilbert turn back to him when he buried his face into the albino's neck. He gently kissed the side of the strawberry-blonde's head.
Then there was a rough knock to the door upstairs before the clatter of it being kicked in. The thunder of many boots above their heads filled the cellar. The three froze, Francis dousing his candle, the same thought on all their minds-What now?
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Notes:
Bonjour-Hello
Monsieur-Sir
French Accent-EW! I hate writing this one.
Kellar-Cellar or basement
Brothers' relationship-Fun factoid, I actually worked out how the brothers work. Francis and Arthur are fraternal twins while Alfred and Matthew are identical twins. Their parents divorced, their father taking Mathieu and Francis with him when he left for France so their mother kept Alfred and Arthur in England. Though Francis lives in a small farmhouse, the whole family is actually quite wealthy and hence are able to visit one another frequently (if not for the complication of the war).
Uhm, so, er… I'm ending it here, but if I get enough comments I might do a second chapter. And that second chapter will either be the sequel to this one or it might be of the situation Matthew and Gilbert talked about happened prior. If you liked this, please be specific.