German Collector
It was a late summer afternoon, the sun shining through the open window and onto the floor where a dog lay, basking in the warmth. It jumped to its feet when a vacuum cleaner roared to life, making its way in the opposite direction. Although he wasn't in New York often, somehow, Ludwig's little townhouse always seemed to obtain filth on its own, then again, dust accumulated everywhere regardless. It wasn't as if Ludwig hated cleaning - actually, he preferred to clean than most other activities - but it was one of those activities that grew quite boring after some time. He let out a sigh as he stopped before the couch, needing to clean under it, spiting himself for buying such a large and bulky vacuum. With his free hand, he pushed the couch so that it only stood on the two legs on the opposite side, holding it up while he vacuumed underneath. It fell back to the floor with a 'thump' and Ludwig went on vacuuming the rest of the house.
Cleaning took him the better part of the day, the sun not too far from the Western horizon. Ludwig dusted his hands off on his apron which was covered in dirt, the same dirt smeared on his face as well. 'At least it's finally clean,' he thought, looking about the room. Now it'd only take the dogs one trip through after a romp outside to re-dirty the entire house. Dogs were good for that. A soft sigh passed his lips, his head lolling from side to side to loosen any stiff muscles - which after the cleaning rampage he went on, most if not all of them were stiff. He was about to remove his apron when the doorbell chimed through the house, bringing a confused look to his rather pale features. Ludwig seemed to think about answering the door, standing idly in the middle of the living room, eyes in the direction of the door. He could answer it, and most probably would, but who would it be at such an hour? With a shrug, he went to the door, opening it and his mouth to ask how he could help the one at the door.
"Ah~! Ludwig!" an accented voice called, the body that owned it throwing its arms around the German's neck.
Instantly, Ludwig froze, unsure what to make of the motion but soon the realization of who it was holding him so tightly sank in. The body moved back and confirmed his worst nightmare. Francis looked up at him, on the verge of tears, looking absolutely horrible. He knew he needed something, the few times he'd actually talked to the German he'd either wanted something or wanted to insult him in some way, shape, or form.
"What is it now?" The German asked with a raised brow and little interest.
"Gilbert's sick and won't be at the meeting! Oh, what am I to do?" He cried, almost sobbing.
With a sigh, Ludwig rubbed his face with a hand, smearing the dirt even more. What did it matter to him if Gilbert was sick? Honestly, he couldn't care less if he was on his deathbed, that's just how Ludwig was. Maybe the Frenchman was looking for some sort of compassion as Ludwig was a German as well? If so, he was barking up the wrong tree. He went to turn Francis down when he was shoved aside by the rusty-blond as he went barging into his house.
"Move yourself. I need alcohol," Francis said with a slight sniffle.
"Hey, what the-!" He started, frowning as he tromped through the house without taking his dirty shoes off.
So much for the dogs ruining the cleanliness of the house, instead, it was a hysterical Frenchman that couldn't get his alcohol from a liquor store like the rest of the world. Ludwig followed him into the kitchen, allowing the door to close behind him, and gazed at the rusty-blond as he searched his cabinets and cupboards for whatever alcohol he may own. It was odd to see him drink anything but wine - it was completely stereotypical but he did it.
"Francis.." He started, debating on whether or not he should tell him the real location. He let out a soft sift and pointed to the cabinet next to the fridge. "It's in there. But I don't have any wine."
"That's fine; I don't want something to delicate right now. I want something stronger." Again he sniffled, moving to the cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.
Ludwig stared in shock - was he really going to drink whisky even though he was the wine type? Surely not. Untying his apron, Ludwig let him a few moments to think it over, decide if he really wanted to drink liquor as hard as that. He flinched at the sound of the top being opened for the first time; the blond whirling around to see if he ears had deceived him. His eyebrows came together upon seeing Francis with a glass, pouring the glassy-brown liquid into it before taking a large swig of it, coughing after it went down.
"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?" He exclaimed, snatching the bottle away - it had cost him a good buck and the Frenchman was downing it like it were as inexpensive as water. "What's really wrong? Surely Gilbert being sick isn't enough to get plowed over?"
However, Ludwig couldn't have been more wrong.
"Of course it is! What am I supposed to do? He's sick and I won't get to see him at all at this meeting and I'll be all alone and.. And.." He seemed to grow angry for a moment and downed the rest of his glass, wincing for a moment and slammed his glass down on the counter, reaching for the bottle once more.
"Calm down! It's not like he's dying or anything-" He jerked away, keeping the bottle out of the Frenchman's reach.
"How do you know? He could be lying on his deathbed right now and I'm not there to help him! Poor Gilbert! Oh~!" He hiccuped once and blinked, a little surprised.
He shoved his glass in Ludwig's face to get him to pour another glass, which he did but nothing like the amount he'd first taken. Ludwig frowned, glaring at Francis. Gilbert was a big boy after all and he could take care of himself perfectly well, shy Francis was making such a big deal over it was beyond him. 'Must be his time of the month..' He thought, bringing a chuckle to his inner self. What was truly wrong with Francis, he didn't know, nor did he want to know or care to know - he had enough problems of his own to deal with without the Frenchman adding to them. He let out a soft sigh and grabbed himself a glass, switching out the more expensive whiskey with a cheaper brand that really did have the same value as water. Ludwig motioned to the small table sitting in the middle of the kitchen.
"If you're going to get drunk, then sit down before you fall down." Though he still wasn't happy, Francis was stubborn and wouldn't let him have peace until he was happy.
They moved to the table in sync and sat down, Francis splaying his arms across the table with his head lying on his arm, facing the German. He sulked, a rather stupid look on his face from a combination of rage, humiliation, and the affects of the alcohol. He ran a finger around the rim of his glass, stopping only to let Ludwig refill it before continuing again.
"He didn't even ask me to come over and nurse him back to health.. My poor little Gillie!" He whined, making the German groan.
"Look, don't use disgusting little pet names around me. He's not some helpless child, he'll figure it out." He frowned, pouring himself a glass and taking a sip.
"Whaaa~t? You don't like them, Luddy?" The Frenchman teased, making a ridiculous 'kissy' face at him.
Ludwig flinched, scowling. "Of course not. They're disgusting and don't ever call me that again!" He glared at the Frenchman.
All Francis did was chuckle and take a sip of his whiskey. Ludwig rubbed his face with a hand, trying to calm himself down and push down the urge to throw him out of his house, his reasoning being that the rusty-blond didn't know any better - but of course he did.
"Do you know how stupid you look with that dirt on your face?" He asked, raising a brow at him after having just noticed the dirt from cleaning the house on Ludwig's face.
The German grumbled, giving a slight glare to the Frenchman before moving to the sink, running some warm water over a washcloth. He wiped his face clean and rinsed the cloth off once more before turning off the sink. He noticed a little something on Francis' face - probably from his trip over. He came to stand beside him, grabbing the Frenchman's face with his free hand and wiping the smudge from his face, throwing the washcloth in the sink before taking his seat once more. He looked up as he felt eyes on him, finding the others stare quite disturbing.
"I never knew you could be so nice, Luddy." His dopey grin remained.
"Don't let it go to your head. You look stupid with dirt on your face too." The German grumbled, taking a sip of his drink.
"But you care enough to wipe it off my face, hm?"
"Like I said, don't let it go to your head."
The German turned away from the Frenchman, ignoring his chuckle and the stare. He was too used to being with Feliciano and unfortunately, the 'fatherly' behaviors carried over to just about anyone he was in the company of. Unfortunately, Francis was in no mood to just let it be, he wanted it to mean something.
As the night wore on, the liquor diminished and the coherence of the blonds steadily decreased. One complained about the health of another, the second just listened and grunted in agreement because it was much easier than to argue.
Ludwig grunted as he picked the drunken Frenchman up from the table, carrying him princess-style to be sure he wouldn't hit his head on the walls as he went through doorways and around corners. Francis was much heavier than he looked, and with Ludwig's incoherence from the alcohol, he seemed even heavier than he should have. It took all of Ludwig's concentration and strength to get him to the bedroom, but less to toss him on the bed. However, he lost his balance as he was no longer trying to hold up another body and followed Francis onto the bed, letting out a 'whoa' as he went down. Francis laughed and looked at the German on top of him.
"So, only one bed?" He asked with a sly grin.
"Y-yea.. but I'm sleeping on the couch." But he made no motion to move.
Francis' arms slithered around Ludwig's neck to drape over his shoulders, blue eyes staring up at equally blue ones. A sort of longing could be seen in each others eyes, one that each of them could understand and feel sympathy for the other over. Slowly, Ludwig leaned down to press a soft kiss to Francis' who returned it in full. It could have been the alcohol; a simple mistaken identity on either side, or it could have been that there really was something between the German and Frenchman even though they acted as though they hated each other in public. The night didn't end with just a little kiss, and by the time it did end, the sun had already begun to light up the sky as it hid under the horizon.
Ludwig woke up to the afternoon sun shining in his eyes. At first, he thought he'd had one drink too many and fell asleep, but the weight on his chest told him otherwise. The German looked to his side, seeing that ever too familiar rusty-blond hair. He stifled a groan, covering his face with his hand and cursing himself in his head. What the hell had he done? And with Francis none the less! Ludwig felt as if putting a bullet in his head would be the best solution to this problem. However, all thoughts ceased as Francis stirred, covering his eyes with a hand.
"Turn off the light! Do you have any idea what time it is?" He complained, almost hitting Ludwig in the face.
"Yea.. It's-" He reached for his alarm clock and looked at its face. "12:10."
"What? Why didn't you wake me up-" His eyes shot open and took in the sight of Ludwig instead of the one he usually saw upon waking: Gilbert.
The Frenchman shot out of the bed, pointing at a very confused Ludwig, obviously unaware of his stark-naked state. His face held accusations, a type of horror at the sight along with anger. Why would he wake up next to that German? How did he get into his pent house in New York? Wait. Francis looked around the room, unable to recognize any of the fixings and furnishings. This wasn't his apartment - he had much better taste than this and his house didn't reek of dogs!
"Alright, where did you take me? You'll gain nothing out of abducting me!" Warned the Frenchman.
"'Abducting'? It was you who came to me yesterday, drank my liquor, and then seduced me!" He exclaimed back at him.
Francis thought about it for a moment before shaking his head with attitude. "I think not! You kissed me first."
"I believe it was mutual." He said, shifting in bed to sit up, looking around for his boxers.
"Bah! Why would I kiss you? You're so strict, too serious about.. well, about everything and.." He raddled on, unaware that the German had stopped listening long ago.
Ludwig tossed Francis' underwear at him, wrapping the sheet around himself as to cover himself - it was too early in the day to be seen naked for him. He shuffled to the bathroom, ignoring the Frenchman's ranting and raving about all of his bad points. Really, it was easier to point out the good aspects of him. He closed and locked the door, turning on the shower as to get ready for the meeting.
"There's a second bathroom down the hall. Second door on the right. If you need to wash your clothes, go right ahead." He called through the door before stepping into the shower, leaving Francis to himself for the time being.
Both of them made it to the meeting with time to spare, and since there was extra time, Francis went off on his rant again. What was it that made the French so picky? Ludwig would never know nor did he care to. He raised his brows when Francis was finally done - he could only tell because he was quiet for longer than three seconds, the time it took to take another breath.
"Got everything off your chest?" He asked.
"No.. Not everything.. I'm still worried about my Gillie.." The Frenchman said quietly.
"Look, he's not a kid, he can-" Ludwig was cut off.
"Hey! Francis!" A third voice chimed in from down the hall.
Gilbert came up to Francis - ignoring Ludwig completely - and took the Frenchman by the hand. He looked perfectly fine, cleared of his illness and when Francis saw it too, he smiled, throwing his arms around him in a hug. He went on another rant, though this time it was about how happy he was that Gilbert had been able to make it to the meeting, that some miracle happened to allow him to recover so quickly. Really, Ludwig had never heard Francis speak so positively - though it only figured to whom it was directed. He simply stayed back, looking to the floor and leaning against the wall.
"Yea, it was probably because you were so worried that I got better." The white-haired man said with a chuckle.
Francis nodded, smiling happily. "Yes, I couldn't sleep knowing you were suffering."
"Well, lets go get our seats. Everyone is already gathering." Gilbert took Francis by the hand, leading him away.
Francis nodded to him, following along. He glanced back at Ludwig who was still looking to the floor. The German smiled faintly, allowing Francis the pleasure of seeing it for once. Last night had just been a way of comfort for the both of them - each being equally lonely for their own reasons - and it soon wouldn't be forgotten. The second he took to glance back seemed like an eternity as the events of the previous night played through his head. And as soon as he had glanced back, he was facing Gilbert once again, happily strolling to the meeting room.
Ludwig let out a soft sigh. It was finally over - though he would have to clean his house yet again - at least one problem was solved. He pushed himself from the wall, stretching and yawning - hopefully he could forget everything as quickly as it had happened.
"Ve~ Ludwig, hurry or we'll be late!" Feliciano came up from behind him, pulling Ludwig by the hand down the hall.
"Alright, alright. Don't get so excited or you'll hurt yourself." He allowed himself to be pulled down the hall by the Italian.
To Ludwig, he treated the night as Francis had: nothing but friendly comfort and acting in the place of the others lover. Neither Feliciano nor Gilbert would ever have to know and there was no guilt to force the blonds to fess up either. Maybe it wasn't so bad to consider the other as a friend now - though if he came over often for comfort and liquor, Ludwig would have to buy the cheapest alcohol he could in bulk with the way the Frenchman drank when upset. Still, it wasn't such a terrible ending for their fling - if you could even call it that.