A/N: This was so much fun to write, especially the last part! I'm really getting excited about writing more PruHun now, so maybe some oneshots in the future? I don't know.
Francis enters this chapter, so enjoy!
After their passionate make-out session, Ludwig and Feliciano finally - finally - entered the car. She was sitting in shock. Gilbert Beilschmidt - no wonder she used to beat him up. He was still talking, but now he was talking about Roderich, and she had the urge to smack him across the face, preferably with a frying pan.
"Roderich was such a jerk! I remember him now. I mean, no one can ever be as awesome as me, but he was the definition of unawesome. What a prude! I never understood why you went out with him, Lizzy."
Elizaveta groaned. "Don't call me Lizzy."
Blissfully unaware anything was wrong, Gilbert continued. "So, you ditched him, huh! You're regaining some awesomeness. Why'd you ditch him? Couldn't he get it up in bed?"
"That's enough, Gilbert!" growled Ludwig. "It's none of your business. The last thing Elizaveta needs is people asking her what's going on."
Feliciano squeezed her hand comfortingly, and they were off.
The trip to the hotel consisted of a fight between Ludwig and Gilbert over the radio (Ludwig wanted classical, Gilbert wanted Spanish flamenco to "get in that awesome Spanish mood", and Elizaveta secretly hoped Gilbert would win, because the last thing she felt like hearing was classical music. Neither of them won, because Feliciano turned the radio off and the German brothers fumed), a stop at a small cafe for dinner, where everyone except Ludwig bought churros while Ludwig despaired over their sugar intake, and an encounter with a small man who sold birds. Specifically little chickens. Gilbert bought one and christened it Gilbird. He shut up and played with it for the rest of the trip.
It felt like a lifetime before they arrived at the hotel, but finally, they pulled up and Elizaveta stepped out. She pulled out her phone. Twenty-nine missed calls. Eighteen from Roderich, three from her parents, two from Lili, five from Katyusha and one from her future in-laws. Elizaveta shuddered to think of what they thought of her now. She deleted all the calls and looked up at the hotel.
"Is it safe?" she asked.
It was a good question. The hotel looked on the verge of falling apart. Paint peeling, holes in the roof, and was it just her or was the building leaning slightly to the right?
"Of course it's safe!" cried Gilbert. "Come on!"
Elizaveta, Feliciano and Ludwig followed the albino and the bird (perched on his head, much to the mirth of Feliciano), into the hotel lobby, where the receptionist simply ignored them.
'What room am I in?" Elizaveta asked Ludwig.
The German swallowed guiltily. "Uh, well, we were expecting Kiku, so, um, you're sharing with one of us," he stammered.
"It's okay," she said. "I don't really mind. Who am I sharing with?"
Ludwig sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry about this, but it's a choice between..." and here he paused, trying to regain his courage, "...Francis or Gilbert."
"Francis?" she asked incredulously. Francis... well, he was nice, but he'd undoubtedly try to seduce her the entire time. Either that, or he'd be bringing strangers into the room at two in the morning. And he'd walk around naked. All the time. Everywhere.
"I'm really, really sorry, but I'm sharing with Feliciano, and Antonio's sharing with Lovino..." Ludwig stammered.
"Or Gilbert?" she said, glaring at him. Gilbert... well, that would be a nightmare. There was the new bloody chicken, of course. And he wouldn't stop rambling on about her and Roderich, and he'd be constantly telling her how awesome he was. Gilbert was the last person in the world she wanted to see right now. Not for the first time, she wondered if it had been a mistake coming to Spain.
"Look, just... think over it for a while," said Ludwig desperately. "We'll go to bed in a hour or so, it's quite late and you must be exhausted. I'm so sorry, Elizaveta, it's just that we didn't expect-"
Suddenly, Feliciano appeared and tugged on Ludwig's left arm. "Luddy, you have to see this! The bath flooded while we were gone!"
Ludwig's eyes widened. "Mein Gott, what did you do?" He turned and sprinted up the stairs, Feliciano struggling to keep up.
She was alone with Gilbert. Great.
He grinned lazily. "So, who's it gonna be?" he asked. "Me or Francis?"
"I'm not sharing with you," she growled. "And I'm not letting Francis within a mile of me."
"So what will you do? Sleep outside? In the rain?"
He had a point.
"And I can guarantee you won't want to be anywhere near Toni and Lovino. The walls are thin enough as it is. And mein bruder and that gorgeous little guy - well, you really don't want to hear what they get up to?" He grimaced. "Who knew that anyone related to me could be so kinky?"
Elizaveta shuddered. "Gilbert, the last thing I want to hear about is Ludwig and Feli's sex life," she hissed.
He smirked. "Really? I remember your yaoi obsession back in high school."
Her eyes widened. "That was a phase! If you bring that up again, I swear to God I'll-"
"You'll what? We're mature adults, Lizzy. What are you gonna do, hit m-"
Before he knew it, Gilbert was on the floor, and convincing himself the ringing noise in his ears was the sound of his own awesomeness.
"Hit you?" she laughed. "You dare talk about that again, I won't just hit you. I'll rip off your balls."
Gilbert clambered to his feet. "I'd like to see you try."
"Oh yeah?" she shouted. She wasn't quite sure why she was taking the day's anger out on Gilbert, but man, it felt good.
"Mon dieu!"
The cry came from behind them. Elizaveta and Gilbert spun around to see a tall, blond, and admittedly sexy Frenchman strolling toward them.
"Élizabeth!" cried Francis Bonnefoy. "It's been years! How are you?" He pulled her into a hug. "I missed you, mon amie. What are you doing here in Spain? I thought our dear friend Kiku was coming with little Feli." She felt his hand creeping below the small of her back to cup her -
"That's enough of that," Elizaveta heard, and she was surprised when Gilbert pulled them apart.
If Francis was equally surprised, he didn't show it. "The last I heard, you were marrying the Edelstein boy. Hang on - wasn't it today?" He gave her a wink. "Sneaking away from the fiancé, are we? How devious!"
There was a lump in Elizaveta's throat and she didn't know how to tell Francis that-
"She doesn't want to talk about it, Francis," said Gilbert firmly.
Well, that was odd.
"Look," continued Gilbert hurriedly. He pointed to the crown of his head, where the fluffy yellow chick perched. "I bought him today! How awesome is he!"
Francis burst out laughing. "Let me guess. You named him... Gilbird?!"
"How did you guess?" shouted Gilbert, and they were shaking with mirth a few seconds later.
Elizaveta would never understand these two.
Especially the German - no, hadn't he once insisted he was Prussian? Whatever he was, he had mercilessly taunted her ever since she had arrived, and now he was defending her. Elizaveta didn't know whether to feel angry or grateful. Roderich would never treat her like this, that was for sure. She missed his aristocratic air, his gentle hands, his quick, sweet kisses. He treated her like a princess. And you gave that up, she reminded herself. You idiot, Elizaveta.
"Lizzy!" cried Gilbert. "There's a good bar near here. Drinks are on on Francis. You coming?"
Well, the day couldn't get much worse. "Why not?" she sighed.
They stumbled out of the door, chased by a furious bartender screaming insults in Spanish. Elizaveta couldn't understand a word of it, but she hazarded a guess they wouldn't be welcome at that particular establishment again. Surprisingly, Gilbert hadn't gotten them kicked out - it had been Francis, who had been drunk enough to start a game of strip poker, and when ordered to leave by the bartender, had tried to seduce the poor man. Currently, the Frenchman (sans shirt), was clinging to a pretty young girl just as drunk as he was.
Elizaveta hailed a taxi and bundled Francis and his latest fling inside. Gilbert squeezed himself in next to her and with slightly slurred Spanish, ordered the driver to take them back to the hotel.
"Well, this was an eventful evening," she mumbled, feeling rather lightheaded.
"Eventful morning," Gilbert corrected her. "It's three o'clock."
She groaned and tried to ignore the sound of Francis and the girl slurping each other's faces off.
They arrived back at the hotel, and managed to get out of the taxi before it sped away. "C'mon," whispered Francis (how did anyone manage to sound that seductive after that many shots?) and he stumbled away with his one-night stand, hands in places Elizaveta preferred not to think about.
"Well, looks like you're staying with me, then."
She turned and looked at Gilbert. "Room 34," he said, jingling the keys in his hand.
Elizaveta had been wrong. The night was getting worse by the second. "Do I have to?" she muttered.
"Well, I don't like you either, but Ludwig will kill me if I leave you outside."
I should be making passionate love to Roderich, she thought, not sharing a room with a stupid, unawesome Prussian.
"Fine," she spat, stomping up the stairs.
They were on the fourth floor. Gilbert unlocked the door, and they entered a rather shabby room, with brown carpet, pasty yellow walls... and one double bed.
"No," she said.
"Oh no," he said.
"You're an idiot! You've done nothing but make today already worse than it is!"
"You're unawesome! You'll corrupt me and Gilbird's awesome aura!"
They glared at one another.
"You're sleeping on the floor," she said, raising an eyebrow, inviting him to disagree.
Predictably, he did. "Elizaveta, I'm the one paying for the room."
"Oh, for crying out-"
"My cash, my bed."
"Really?"
And before anyone could blink, both of them were sprinting for the bed, as Elizaveta's shoulder bag hit the floor. The Prussian and the Hungarian hit the bed at exactly the same time, clinging to the sheets and pillows as the bed, overwhelmed by two people jumping onto it, creaked in protest. Elizaveta looked up at Gilbert and met his eyes, both of them wondering if the other would throw them off.
Neither did.
Simultaneously, they crawled under the covers, still eyeing one another cautiously.
They both opened their mouths to speak, but thought better of it.
Gilbird, miraculously still clinging onto Gilbert's white shock of hair, crawled off his head and nestled himself in the crack between their pillows. Slowly, the two relaxed. Instantly, Elizaveta turned away from Gilbert.
"Be careful of Gilbird," he said.
"Mmhmm," she said, voice muffled by the pillow.
"I'm serious! If you unawesomely turn over and squash him, you're on the floor."
"I WON'T."
There was a pause.
"Go to sleep," she said.
"I am asleep," Gilbert protested.
Both of them edged as far away from the other as possible without falling off the bed.
Elizaveta woke up while it was still dark.
"Lizzy," said Gilbert.
"Mmm?" she replied. How did he know I was awake?
"Why did you leave Roderich?"
And she truly didn't know what to say.
"I don't know," she murmured.
"You're lying. Of course you know."
"I-I guess I didn't want to marry him," she said honestly. 'I wasn't ready... I'm too young to get married. It was a mistake, and I only realised at the last second."
Gilbert didn't respond. She waited for ten minutes, but he didn't say a word.
Eventually she closed her eyes, unsure if what had transpired was real or a dream.