Whoa, where did this come from. I'll explain at the bottom. XD Enjoy.
"There's a girl in your bed," announced Gilbert, sluggishly scraping a chair back and picking up a handful of his brother's breakfast. "You do know you're allowed to sleep in the same bed after you've fucked?"
"Don't be vulgar," condemned the younger of the two, and he shot a glower at the mouth now chewing his toast. "Not that you would have any idea what happened last night," added Ludwig with a smug, rather pretentious sip of his orange juice.
Gilbert groaned and pouted, his head hitting the table with a dull thud. He rolled his fingertip around guiltily. "It was Francis' fault. You're not gonna lecture me now, are you?"
"Ja, I'm sure it was Francis' fault that you drank excessively and had your phone turned off-"
"You kept calling!"
Ludwig gave an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, watching the tips of his fringe, usually so immaculately gelled, fall rebelliously back over his eyes. He hadn't even showered yet. It was always shower then breakfast. See, none of this would have happened if Gilbert had just kept him informed, his brother was always causing him trouble, if he hadn't gone out at God-knows-what-time in the morning to try and find him then-
"Outta aspirin," muttered the albino, the elder of them, slamming the cupboard door shut, immediately wincing at the noise, and then glaring, as if to accuse Ludwig of purposefully not restocking. "Going back to bed."
"No, you're not. You're cleaning up," he was challenged in retaliation, Ludwig reaching around his brother to carefully throw his plate in the sink.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
"I had to get out of bed at three in the morning to find you and your stupid friends," warned Ludwig quietly, his nose close to Gilbert's face, speaking in the villainously calm tone he seemed to carry easily. "Clean up in here, and then the bathroom." He turned on his heel and left the room.
Gilbert's shoulders deflated, looking at the cutlery in the sink. "Why the bathroom?"
His voice suddenly barked. "Because you never clean it!"
"Because you're the only one who cares if it's clean!"
"It's my house!"
"Fuck your house!" objected Gilbert articulately, throwing a one fingered salute to the ceiling, where he heard Ludwig's footsteps in the room above.
And then lighter footsteps, and a concerned female voice.
Then Ludwig's, now with more reassuring tones.
And lighter feet walking downstairs.
Gilbert balked, picked up a cloth and started to clean, trying to look inconspicuous for when she entered. She had been lying in his brother's bed with her back to him. She looked petite. She had brown hair and a white sweater on. Apart from that-
"Is everything okay?"
Her voice was romantically accented. To match her hair (scraped in a bed-headed manner into a ponytail with curled ends, and a soft fringe) she had wide, brown eyes and lightly tanned skin. Her white sweater was sizes too large for her, and adorned with the German team's national colours, in a familiar design, Gilbert realised, from the World Cup in Berlin, where Ludwig had bought it in the first place, a few years ago.
She looked at Gilbert. Studied him for a moment.
Her wide brown eyes grew wider, and fell cold. Her small mouth opened in a silent revelation.
Gilbert wrung the cloth between his pale fingers, and let his shoulders re-tense.
"Shit," he admitted quietly.
She nodded her agreement.
Okay, I was listening to "When The Sun Goes Down" by Arctic Monkeys and it just ...happened. . _ . Bet you all have the gist now I've told you that, haha. Anyway, this is just a prologue. Let me know if you're interested so far :D