A/N: I just want to give a big thank you to all the readers of this story. I wasn't expecting many people to be interested so I was really surprised, but happy, with all the feedback I got. Thanks! This chapter is my little gift to you. I probably won't have much time to write until school gets out so there a chance I won't be able to get the next chapter up until May. Sorry! I'll try my best to get something done before then, but no promises. Enjoy~
Extra Notes: Netherlands = Alec
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or Petrus.
It's Not Me, It's You:
First Day
In the morning, Francis woke up from an erotic dream expecting to find a warm body pressed up against his, but instead found that the only thing in his bed was an empty wine bottle that was pressed uncomfortably against his cheek.
He sat up with a groan and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. Not only had he forgotten to use a hair net, but he had also fallen asleep in the clothes from the night before, which officially left him without any acceptable clothing. He had a sweatshirt that he had bought at a charity baseball game on a bet and a pair of sweatpants that he had forgotten to whom they belonged. God forbid that he had any meetings scheduled for that day. It would be humiliating enough to wear 'comfort' clothing around the house.
Deciding that he would first properly dispose of the wine bottle in the appropriate bin—recycling had been Arthur's idea and Francis had gone along when society had deemed green living 'in'—before changing. He opened the door to his bedroom and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, bottle dangling from his hands.
"Mornin'."
Francis screamed and dropped the wine bottle on the floor. How could he have forgotten that he had company? His temporary muse was sitting at his kitchen table, clad only in a pair of boxers and shoveling down the last of Francis's cereal.
"Has anyone ever told you that you scream like a girl?" Gilbert said.
"Cover your eyes!" Francis shrieked.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not decent! Cover them now!"
"But you're wearing—"
"Cover them!"
Gilbert sighed. "Fine." He covered his eyes with his hands. "Is this some weird kink of yours?"
Francis bent down to pick up the wine bottle, thankful it hadn't smashed. "And don't even think about peeking!" he said. He dropped the wine bottle into the labeled bin and walked quickly back to his room.
"Can I open them now?" Gilbert asked.
"You may not!" Francis yelled back. He tore off his clothes and wincing, pulled on the sweatshirt and sweatpants. In the current state it was in, it would take hours to fix his hair so he tied it back in a low ponytail and the pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over his head. He shuddered as he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror of his walk-in closet.
"I look like a forty year-old soccer mom with five kids and a van," he wailed.
"What was that?"
"Keep your eyes shut!"
Francis went over to his desk and grabbed the folder he had hastily prepared the night before and his wallet. He couldn't even bear a last pitying glance at the mirror before he stomped back to the kitchen. Gilbert still had his eyes covered and he grumbled loudly as he heard Francis approach.
"We just met," he said, "so I'll let you off easy this time, but don't expect me to play stupid games like this every morn—"
"You can open your eyes," Francis snapped.
Gilbert leaned back blinking when he uncovered his eyes. "Whoa, you change clothes fast."
"You're going to pretend that you never saw that."
"Saw what?" Gilbert asked, confused.
"Nothing. Now tell me why you're eating my cereal. No, tell me why this place is a mess."
"Um…"
"I have three bags of clothes that need to be cleaned sitting in my room. Why are they still there?"
"Well—" Gilbert began but Francis cut him off with a shushing gesture.
"No, don't speak. I don't want to hear it. I cannot deal with this right now. Before another word comes out of your mouth you need to sign this." Francis set the folder down on the table and flicked it open with his index finger. Inside was a single sheet of paper. "This is your contract," he said. "Whether you're going to be working for me a week or a year, you must sign it. And just so you know, an early termination of this contract has a $10,000 fee." He wouldn't make the same mistake he had with Arthur.
Gilbert picked up the paper and scanned it quickly. "Not bad. I was expecting 20 pages of filler text. As if reading wasn't bad enough."
Francis smirked. "That's because I only have two simple requirements. The first is that you never speak to anyone about what happens beneath this roof unless I give you permission, sober. The second is that you do anything I ask."
Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
"Well, anything legal. For instance, I can't force you to have sex with me, buy me drugs, or jump in moving traffic. Things like that."
"What can you make me do?"
"I can make you clean my house, do my laundry and make me a decent breakfast. And you must always be present when I'm writing. I don't care if I'm in Paris and you're in New York. As soon as I pick up a pen, you're to be in front of me."
Gilbert turned back to the contract. "This actually sounds like a lot of work. This isn't what I signed up for."
Francis nodded towards the door. "Exit's that way," he said, almost happily. He didn't believe Antonio. There had to be someone better that he could use.
"What's my starting pay?"
"Getting right to the point, are we? Fine. If you're a good boy and sign on the dotted line, I can start you at $1,500 a month."
"How much did you pay your last guy?"
"That's really none of your business," Francis said sharply.
Gilbert dropped the contract onto the folder. "Actually, I think it is. 'Cause I'm worth a whole lot more than $1,500."
Francis felt a spike of anger. "How dare—Do you know who you're talking to? I can ruin your life."
"And I could ruin yours. From what Antonio told me, you're pretty desperate at the moment and if I walk out that door right now, you're left with nothing. So how about we make a deal?"
"I refuse to make a deal with a low-life punk with no manners or class!" Francis snapped. How dare Antonio betray him like that?
Gilbert grinned. "Ouch, that hurt. So I'm thinking $3,000."
Francis snorted. "Dream on."
"Okay." Gilbert got up from the table. "I'll just go grab my bags then. Your cereal sucks by the way. It's like 100% bran. Are you a constipated eighty year-old man?" He headed for his room.
"You get back here right now!" Francis yelled.
"Yeah…not really feeling it," Gilbert said over his shoulder. "There are too many opportunities in this town for someone as awesome as me to settle for so little to be someone's 'boy toy'."
"Don't say those words!"
Gilbert came back from his room, still in his boxers, with his bag slung over his shoulder. "You think they can call me a taxi downstairs?" he asked.
"Dressed like that? Hell no. Now get your butt back in this chair. You aren't going anywhere."
"How are you going to stop me?"
Francis resisted the urge to break something. "Damn you're annoying. Okay, fine. $2,500."
"I said $3,000."
"$2,500 and I won't make you do the dishes on weekends. Take it or leave it. You seriously think you can walk in anywhere else and get this much? Don't be stupid." Gilbert looked thoughtful. "I'm a very busy man Beilschmidt."
"Deal."
Francis held up a pen. "Come sign," he said. Gilbert dropped his bag and padded over. He grabbed the pen and scrawled a messy signature at the bottom of the contract.
Francis closed the folder. 'Excellent. Now, put some clothes on, take my things to the drycleaners and buy me some new cereal."
"Now?"
Francis rolled his eyes. "Yes, now. And don't come back until everything's done." He pulled his credit card out of his wallet. "Put everything on this. And get me another box of cigarettes too." He handed him a business card. "This is the drycleaners I use. The address is at the bottom. Now go."
"How will I get everywhere?"
"Ask for a driver downstairs."
"Aye, aye Captain." Gilbert gave him a mock salute and after grabbing his bag, disappeared back into his room. Francis sighed and massaged his temples. He tried to recall the words of his guru but gave up after he could only remember something about 'acceptance'.
"Next time I see Antonio he's going to 'accept' my foot up his ass for sending this guy to me," Francis grumbled as he went to his room to get his clothes. Gilbert was waiting in the kitchen when he came back, wearing the same shirt and jacket from the night before.
"Damn, is this your whole closet?" he asked when he saw the bags.
"No," Francis said as he handed them to him, "less than half but everything else is from last season. While you're out, make sure to buy some clothes for yourself. You can't work for me wearing rags like that."
"But my clothes are awesome!"
"They're disgusting."
"Says the guy wearing sweats."
"Shut up! They're the only thing I have!" Francis grabbed a pair of keys off counter. They were still labeled 'Arthur'. He viciously scratched the name out. "Now take your house keys and get out!"
"Someone's a little grumpy this morning," Gilbert said.
"Go!"
"Gone," Gilbert said, slamming the door behind him.
Francis grabbed the kitchen table for support as his whole body threatened to fall apart. "I can't believe I've sunk so low," he said quietly. "Why am I being punished like this? I'm a good person. I volunteered at that telethon last year." He straightened back up. "This is all Antonio's fault." He marched over to his phone and furiously dialed the number to the restaurant.
"What do you want?" said the bored voice that answered.
"Lovino? Where's Antonio?"
"The bastards gone out."
"Where?"
"To look at some dumb building. He wants to open up another restaurant."
"Another one? And he didn't tell me?"
"Apparently he saw a sign or it came to him in a dream. Stupid shit like that. Anyway, don't bother calling him. He left his phone here, as usual."
Francis swore. "Isn't it your job as his loving boyfriend to remind him of those sorts of things?"
"This is Antonio we're talking about. Even Jesus wouldn't have been able to cure him. Call back later."
"Wait! Lovino, darling, you wouldn't happen to have some free time in your schedule, would you?"
"Nice try, pervert. You're not getting me to be your boy toy."
"Why does everyone call them that?" Francis yelled.
"Because that's what they are. Damn it. The people Antonio hires are such idiots. They can't even work a fucking pop machine. Now I have to get someone to clean this mess. This day sucks." Without another word Lovino hung up. Francis sighed and replaced his phone.
"What I am supposed to do now?" He wished Arthur was there so that he could have someone to complain to, but then he realized that if Arthur was there, he wouldn't be having this problem.
"Why are the people in my life so unreliable?" he wailed. "There has to be someone who is available who will listen to my problems!" He suddenly remembered that Belle had mentioned that she would be off from class that day. Although she did have a bad habit of trying to correct him, she was the best option he had at the moment. He picked up his phone and dialed her number and hoped her brother didn't pick up.
"Hello?" Francis winced. His day just got worse and worse.
"H-hi Alec! I-is Belle there by chance?"
"No. Leave my sister alone."
"Okay then, bye!" Francis quickly hung up. "Why is he so damn scary?" He was almost worse than the Swedish man who worked at the front desk in the lobby. "I give up." It barely past noon but it looked like the only comfort that he would be getting that day would be a glass of wine on his couch. He grimaced when he opened his wine cabinet and saw that he only had two bottles of Pétrus left. He would have Gilbert order another shipment first thing tomorrow. He couldn't believe that Arthur had left him without restocking his wine. That was one more thing he would never forgive him for. He took one of the bottles, grabbed a glass and headed for his couch. He fell asleep after the fourth glass and didn't wake up until Gilbert burst back into the apartment five hours later.
"Mission accomplished!" he yelled as he slammed the door. Francis screamed and fell off the couch. "And in record time too! I deserve a bonus!" He noticed Francis on the floor. "Why are you on the ground?"
"Shut up!" Francis pulled himself back onto the couch. "Don't come in here screaming!"
"Calm down. Why are you yelling?"
"Because—!" Francis sighed heavily. "Forget it. So you got everything?"
"Of course I got everything. I'm awesome like that." He pointed to himself. "Like the new threads?" The ripped jacket and stained pants had been replaced with a black vest and dark wash jeans. Still too casual in Francis's opinion, but at least it all looked quality now.
"It will have to do. How much did they cost?"
"I got a bunch of other shit too. I think it all came to around $8,000. I put it all on your card," Gilbert said. Francis wondered what the signs of a heart attack were because he was sure that he was about to have one.
"I got your cigarettes too. Not sure what type you wanted but I found this really cool hippie brand. The package said it was like organic tobacco or something. I'm not super into the whole 'going green' trend but they're actually pretty awesome. I opened a box on the way back. Here." Gilbert tossed the box to Francis, who barely caught it. The front was decorated with psychedelic designs and colors so bright that it made his eyes hurt. In the corner it said in bold letters "Made with 20% hemp".
"And then I decided that no one deserves to suffer from that gross cereal so I got some of the off brand stuff. It actually tastes better than the brand names. Why would anyone want to eat bran when you can have Frosty O's and Fruit Flakes?" Gilbert held up the boxes. "Awesome right?" Francis could only stare. Then he noticed that Gilbert had only brought in two bags.
"Where…where are my clothes?"
"They're at the Laundromat drying. I have to go get them in an hour."
"Drying?"Francis squeaked. "Why are they drying?"
"Um, because I washed them. Duh."
"They were dry clean only! That's why I sent you to the drycleaners!"
"It was out of the way. And this place was so much better. I even got a coupon for this hair salon. I don't really use coupons but what the hell! Hey, where are you going?"
"To my room. I'm going to get my sunglasses and my shoes."
"You're going out?"
"Yes and you're coming with me. I can't afford to leave you here by yourself."
"But I just got back!" Gilbert whined. Francis almost exploded right there. He was working very hard to stay calm but he was so angry that his hands were shaking.
"Just do it," he hissed. "Call downstairs for a car."
"That guy scares me."
"I. Don't. Give. A. Flying. Fuck. Call. Now."
"Okay, okay. Damn, you're moody."
I'm going to kill him…I'm going to kill him…I'm going to kill him. Francis repeated to himself the whole car ride. Besides him, Gilbert was chattering something nonsensical about a bird he saw and smoking one of the disgusting cigarettes. Francis desperately wanted to open a window but couldn't risk the chance of being seen. It had been horrible enough leaving the apartment building. He had had to cover his head with a blanket and have Gilbert guide him to the car.
I'm going to kill him…I'm going to kill him…I'm going to kill him.
"Which entrance?" asked the driver when they arrived.
"Back," Francis hissed. "Stay here. This shouldn't take more than a few minutes." He made Gilbert check that there was no one around before he finally got out of the car.
"Hey, I know this place," Gilbert said as they walked towards the back door. "I've never been through this entrance though. Why are we—"
"Just. Stop. Talking." Francis wrenched open the back door, revealing a brightly lit hallway that split into two directions at the end. Francis went left, which led to a door that said "Boss's Room" on the front. He slammed the door open, causing Antonio to drop all the papers in his hand and nearly made Lovino fall off the desk.
"F-Francis? What are you doing here?" Antonio asked.
"You asshole," Lovino yelled. "I could have hurt myself! Don't just come bursting in here! Where the hell are you taking him?" Francis had pulled Antonio out of his seat and was dragging him towards the door by his collar.
"To talk. You two stay here." Francis said shortly before closing the door.
"Hey Francis, what's this about? Is something wro—oompf!" Antonio's back hit the wall of the broom closet at the same time he heard the door being locked. Before he could protest, Francis had his hands around his throat.
"Give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right now." Francis hissed. After keeping it together for so long, he was on the verge of losing complete control.
"I don't understand what's—"Antonio gasped as he felt the hands tighten around his neck. "Okay! Okay! We've been best friends since we were eight."
"Not good enough."
"I helped you fix the votes during Prom!"
"I was going to win anyway."
"Uh, uh, how about that time I paid off our History Professor's husband when he caught you with his wife?"
"They were going to get divorced in a month. One more try, Antonio."
Antonio shivered at the dangerous gleam in Francis's eye. He had never seen his friend like this.
"Okay. I was the one who lent you the money so that you could publish your first book!" he said quickly. He winced when he felt the hands around his neck tighten slightly but then they fell away and he let out a deep sigh of relief.
"I always forget about that," Francis said darkly. "Damn."
"What the hell was that?" Antonio gasped. "Coming out of nowhere and attacking me? What did I do?"
"What did you do?" Francis took a step closer and Antonio flattened himself against the wall. "You ruined my life!"
"How?"
"You sent me…him."
"Who?"
"Don't make me say his name. You know who."
"I'm really not following, Francis."
"Beilschmidt! You sent him to me to ruin my life! You're punishing me!"
Antonio gaped at his friend. "A-are you kidding me? Why would I want to punish you? And what did Gilbert do?"
"You're trying to send me one of those morality messages! Well next time use a fortune cookie! I do not deserve this!"
"Francis, calm down. What did Gilbert do?"
"Well first, he ate my cereal and then had the nerve to call it disgusting!"
"It is nearly 100% bran…"
"And then he forced me into raising his salary!"
"Yeah, he can be tricky like that."
"He spent $8,000 of my money on clothes for himself!"
"You spend that much on a bottle of wine."
"He bought the most disgusting cigarettes I've ever seen, replaced my cereal with some sugary, carb-laden abomination, and then…he washed my clothes!"
"Washing clothes is a bad thing?"
"It is when they're dry clean only! And I don't even know where they are now. He said he took them to some Laundromat that gives out coupons. Coupons! What sort of back alley place is that?"
"And that's all?"
"Antonio, do not use that tone with me. That man is a whirlwind of disaster and I refuse to have him as my employee any longer!"
"Did he already sign the contract?" Antonio asked.
"Yes, but I haven't given it to my lawyer yet. I can still rip it up, which is the first thing I'm going to do when I get home. He washed my clothes!"
"Francis, please don't cry. I don't think there are any tissues in here. I need you to take a deep breath and relax. We're going to work through this. Are you calm?"
"For about five more minutes."
"Good enough. Okay, listen to me. You're not going to get rid of Gilbert."
"Did anything I just said make it into that thick skull of yours?"
"Yes, but listen. You're not going to fire Gilbert because you can't. You need him. You can't write without a muse and he's the only option you have at this time."
"Is there seriously no one else available? There has to be someone!"
Antonio shook his head. "No one. I do have a friend who might be interested but he's busy with a project—he's an artist—and won't be free for at least two more months. So until then, you have to stick with Gilbert."
"But I can't!"
"Yes you can! I believe in you. What you need to do first is talk to him."
Francis raised an eyebrow. "Talk to him? I don't think we're even on the same intellectual level to even have a proper conversation."
"What do you mean? Gilbert's smart. He's just a little loud."
"Just a little?"
"Come on Francis, it was his first day working for you. You should expect that he would make some mistakes."
"He washed my clothes!"
"Then you tell him what he did wrong so next time he doesn't make the same mistake. You can't give someone you just met a to-do list and expect them to do everything perfectly. Until you reach the point in your relationship where it's not necessary to discuss the details of every little request, you're going to have to explain to him exactly what you want."
Francis blinked. "That actually sounded logical, Antonio. Maybe I should threaten you more often to wake up some of those brain cells."
Antonio laughed weakly. "Yeah, maybe. So are you going to give him a second chance?"
"You've made it clear that I have no other choice." Francis sighed. "And he is good looking so it's not a complete disaster."
"You're not going to—"
"No. Hell no. I have standards Antonio."
"You do?"
Francis gave him a withering look. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
Antonio smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Hey, I just noticed something."
"What?"
"You're wearing sweats."
"They're the only clothes I had in my house!" Francis shrieked, unconsciously covering himself with his hands.
Antonio laughed. "I never thought I'd see you go casual. You look fine by the way."
"Stop lying to me!" Francis unlocked the door to the closet. "Come on, get up and let's go back before Lovino starts breaking things." Just as they stepped out of the closet, Lovino came around the corner, Gilbert right behind him.
"What the fuck? Why the hell were you two in the closet?" he screeched.
"Because they wanted to come out together!" Gilbert burst out laughing. "You know, because they're friends!" Francis groaned.
"Good one, Gilbert!" Antonio said, laughing. "Didn't you think it was funny, Lovino?"
"No and you didn't answer my question! What the fuck were you doing in the closet with this filthy pervert?"
"I am not a pervert!"
"We were just talking, Lovino."
"Oh really? Fine. You two can just 'talk' all you want. I'm going home!" Lovino spun around and stomped off in the other direction.
"Wait! What did I do wrong this time?" Antonio said as he ran after him. "Why is everyone mad at me today?"
"So what were you two actually doing there?" Gilbert asked when it was just him and Francis.
"We had sex."
Gilbert's jaw dropped. "Wait, really?"
"Of course not, you idiot. Antonio's pretty oblivious but he's not a total moron. Now close your mouth and let's go back to the car. We're done here."
"We can probably go pick up your clothes now," Gilbert said once they were outside.
"You mean the clothes that you ruin—" Francis remembered what Antonio had said and lowered his voice. "Now that you mention it, I need to talk to you about something." They stopped at the side of the car.
"What? Are you going to raise my salary?"
"No!" Francis snapped. It was getting darker outside so he pulled off his sunglasses. "It's about what I expect from you. Just because you're a temp doesn't mean you can go about everything whatever way you like. If you're going to work for me, you have to do things my way. First thing—" Suddenly, from out behind a nearby car, popped a short man who quickly snapped a picture of the pair. Francis screamed and covered his face.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gilbert yelled.
"Finally getting the recognition I deserve!" The man said, laughing. "Every tabloid in town is going to want me on their team when they see this picture!" He took off running.
"Hey! Get back here!" Francis peeked out through the spaces between his fingers to see Gilbert chase after the man. In seconds he had caught up to him and tackled him from the back. There was a short scuffled before Gilbert pinned the man to the ground and wrenched the camera out of his hands.
"No one gets to take a picture of me unless I say so," Gilbert said. He smashed the camera on the pavement.
"You asshole!" The man yelled. "I have a lawyer! He'll make you pay for that!"
"Good luck trying to call him if I break both of your arms," Gilbert said before getting up. "Next time you better think twice before you sneak up on someone as awesome as me. Now get out of here." With one last dirty look, the man scrambled off.
"People like that are so annoying," Gilbert said when he got back to where Francis was still standing in shock. "Don't they understand that it's a luxury to get a picture of—"
"You saved my reputation!" Francis said, finally snapping out of it. "You saved my reputation!"
"You said that twice, you know?"
"And I'll say it again! You saved my reputation! I would hug you if it wasn't for the fact that you were rolling on the floor five minutes ago."
"There are other ways I can be compensated."
Francis rolled his eyes. "Nice try. I'm not raising your salary."
"Not even by $100?"
"Not even by $10. Now get in the car before that creep comes back."
"Nah, I think I scared him off for good. Did you see how fast he ran?" Gilbert said as he slid in the backseat.
"Well there could be others like him lurking around. Scum like that tend to travel in packs."
"Where to?" asked the driver as they pulled out of the parking lot.
"Where exactly is the place you took my clothes, Gilbert?" Francis asked. "Even though I might not be able to wear any of them in public anymore, I've been running a little low on good karma lately and they would make a great donation to charity."
"It's not far. I can give you directions. Take a right at the light."
"How did you find this place?" Francis asked as they drove. He noticed that the houses on the street were getting smaller and more run down with each block. They were in a part of the city that he sometimes liked to believe didn't exist because it was such a stark contrast from what he was used to.
"I came here once, like, years ago. I didn't remember much about it except that it was cheap."
"Not too cheap I hope," Francis said quietly to himself, his stomach clenching nervously as they passed another liquor store. That was the third one he'd seen.
"It's the first entrance on your right," Gilbert finally said ten minutes later. The car pulled in front of an ancient looking Laundromat. There was graffiti all over the building and various beer cans scattered across the parking lot. One of the windows had been taped over but Francis could still see that it was riddled with various small holes. By now his stomach was in complete knots and he clutched the door handle tightly. In front of him he could hear the nervous shifting of the driver and was somewhat relieved that he wasn't the only one that wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
Gilbert swung open his door and Francis hunched down in his seat.
"Are you coming in or not?" Gilbert asked.
"Y-You go, I'll just stay here." Francis said.
"Actually, you have to come inside. They wouldn't let me pay with your card and I told them that I would bring you back with me to sign."
"Why would you tell them that?" Francis hissed. "I can't go in there!"
"Don't worry. I don't think anyone will recognize you in this area," Gilbert said as he pulled open Francis's door.
"Getting recognized is the least of my problems. Can't you just bribe them or something?"
"I already tried. Next time give me a card that doesn't have a limit of 500 grand."
"That's the card with the lowest limit!"
"Don't you carry cash?"
"Money is dirty."
"God, you're such a princess. Let's go."
"Absolutely not!"
"Ok, now we have to do this the hard way," Gilbert leaned in and grabbed Francis around the waist.
"Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!" Francis yelled. He clung fiercely onto his seat but his manicured nails were no match for Gilbert and in seconds he found himself pulled outside the safety of the car.
"Wait here," Gilbert said to the driver before he dragged Francis inside in the Laundromat. There were only a small handful of people inside and they all stared at the pair when they entered. It didn't help that Francis was still kicking and screaming.
"Can you calm down? People are looking at us." Gilbert whispered to him.
"No and I refuse to until you take me back to the car!"
"Well if you chill out for five minutes then we can leave. Your stuff is right over there." Gilbert pointed to a dark corner of the Laundromat. "I'll get them, you pay."
"No, don't leave me," Francis said, now clinging to him. "I'm scared."
"There's nothing to be scared of." Gilbert pushed him off and nudged him in the direction of the cash register. "Now go pay." He headed towards the direction he had pointed earlier, leaving Francis, alone, to approach the register. The old woman behind it glared at him with each step he took towards her and when he finally reached the counter he angled his head so that he wasn't looking at her directly in the eye.
"H-hello," he said to the floor. "I'm…I'm…just here to…pay…for my c-clothes. M-my associate said I…had to sign."
"Which one is he?" the woman grunted. Without looking up, Francis pointed to the corner he thought Gilbert was in. It must have been the right one because he heard the woman punching something into the register.
"That's going to be $150," she said. Francis slid his card across the counter. The woman grunted again when she picked it up. "You don't have anything else?"
"S-sorry…no."
"Whatever." She slid the card through the machine and then handed Francis his receipt. "Can I see some ID?"
"I-is that really n-necessary?"
"Yes." Francis sighed and pulled out his license. "Can you look up for me?" Reluctantly, Francis raised his head. "And take off the sunglasses and the hood?"
"Really?"
"Yes." Feeling more irritated than scared now, Francis slipped off his sunglasses and pulled back the hood of the sweater.
"Happy?" he said. The woman glanced between him and his license three times before she was finally satisfied and handed him his cards back.
"You know, you look kind of familiar and I swear I've heard your name somewhere," she said.
"Nope! I'm no one! Just your average citizen!" Francis said quickly. "In fact, this is my first time leaving my house in five years. So if you don't mind I'm just going to go back now. Have a nice life." He darted away before the woman could say anything else. Gilbert was waiting by the front door with the three bags of clothes in his hands.
"Took you long enough," he said.
"Just shut up," Francis snapped, pushing his way past him. He froze at what he saw when he stepped outside.
"Hey…where's the car?" Gilbert asked. The parking lot was completely empty and both the car and driver were nowhere to be found.
"Oh my God! I've been abandoned!" Francis cried. "This is the second time this week!"
"What a douchebag. I can't believe he ditched us," Gilbert grumbled.
"What if…what if he got mugged?" Francis said quietly.
"Doubt it. People around here don't do those kinds of things. He definitely ditched us. Damn."
"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Francis screamed.
"Um, call another car?"
Francis gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. "Fuck! I left my phone in the car!"
"No problem, I have mine. It's in my pocket. Hold these—hey!" Francis had reached into Gilbert's back pocket and pulled out the phone. "You could have warned me first."
"Oh wow, isn't this lovely," Francis said when he flipped open the phone. "Not only is your signal shit, but your battery is almost dead. What the fuck is this? Some B-grade horror movie?" He punched in the first number that popped into his head.
"Who are you calling? The apartment?"
"No, Antonio. Actually, Lovino because Antonio never has his phone on him."
"Why not the apartment?"
"The guy who works at the front desk scares me."
Gilbert shuddered. "Yeah, he's pretty terrifying."
Francis crossed his fingers as the phone rang. "Please pick up, please pick up, please pick—Lovino!"
"You have a lot of balls calling me pervert. I only picked up to tell you to keep your dirty hands off Antonio or else I'll break them next time. Bye."
"No! Don't hang up! I need help!"
"Why should I help you?"
"Because…because, I'm the one who set you up with Antonio!"
"Yeah, because I needed him so much. My life is a hundred times more stupid now. Thanks for nothing."
"You're so cold Lovino! I'm in serious trouble right now. My life is on the line!"
"You break a nail?"
"No! I'm stuck in only God knows where and I need you to have someone come get me."
"And me!" Gilbert said.
"Why?" Lovino asked.
"What do you mean why? I'm probably two seconds away from being shot!"
"It would serve you right."
"Why you little—"
"Do you want me to help you out or not, pervert?"
"Pleaseeeeeeee!"
"Damn this is annoying. Be happy that I had pasta tonight. Now where are you?"
"Hold on," Francis covered the mouth of the phone. "Where are we?" he asked Gilbert, who had to think for a few seconds before he remembered. He repeated the address to Lovino.
"What the fuck are you doing all the way out there? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You idiot! Do you know how upset Antonio would be if you died?"
"Stop yelling at me! I'm not here by choice! Just send someone to come get me!"
"And me!" Gilbert yelled.
"Shut up!"
"I'll send someone now. They should be there in about twenty minutes."
Francis felt pure relief for the first time all day. "Lovino have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"You're a sick bastard." Lovino hung up the phone and Francis felt Gilbert's phone vibrate as the battery finally died.
"That was lucky," he said, handing the dead phone back to its owner.
"How long do we have to wait?" Gilbert asked.
"He said twenty minutes."
"Might as well get comfortable then." Gilbert sat down in front of the Laundromat and dumped the bags of clothes next to him.
"I'm not sitting on the ground."
"Suit yourself." Gilbert pulled the box of hippie cigarettes out of his pockets and lit one. He offered the box to Francis who shook his head.
"This has probably been a really shitty day for you," Gilbert said.
"You think?" Francis snapped. "I just want my bed."
"Maybe this will make you feel better. I meant to give it to you earlier." Gilbert handed Francis a rumpled piece of paper. "It's the coupon they gave me here."
"How the hell is a coupon going to make me feel better?"
"Just take it."
"Fine." Francis snatched it out of his hands. "It's for…a hair salon. My hair salon. Buy one, get one free. How did you know that I go here?"
"I saw their number on the calendar on your fridge this morning. Do you really go there three times a week?"
Francis pointed to his head. "You think beauty like this comes cheap?"
"Hair's just hair to me. Mine's always awesome anyway so I don't really need it. Enjoy."
Francis looked down again at the coupon. He would probably never use it but he still put it in his pocket anyway.
"Tha-Thanks," he said quietly. He didn't often say that. "For this and for earlier."
Gilbert grinned. "So that's two things I did right today. You owe me big, Francis."
"Shut up and give me one of those disgusting cigarettes."
"They're not half bad," Gilbert said, handing him the box. "Oh and what were you saying before that paparazzo surprised us?"
Francis lit the cigarette and nearly gagged. It was terrible but still better than nothing. "Hmm? Oh yeah. I'll tell you later."
Gilbert moved over and patted the spot next to him. "Sit down."
"No."
"You know you want to."
"No. Stop talking."
"Why are you such a bitch?"
"Why are you such a moron?"
"I'm not a moron."
Francis grinned. "You kind of are." He sat down on the clothing bags. "But don't worry. It kind of suits you."
"I take back what I said. You're a super bitch."
Francis exhaled a cloud of smoke and laughed. "Love, I've been called much worse. Anyway, before I forget, I'm writing tomorrow. My editor is coming over Saturday and I need to finish up the next chapter or she'll kill me."
"So, as your muse, what do I actually have to do?" Gilbert asked.
Francis smirked. "You'll see."
"Do I have to get naked?"
"What about 'you'll see' don't you understand?" Francis snapped. "Oh God, what's in these cigarettes? I think I'm getting dizzy."
"It's awesome, right?" Gilbert stubbed out his first one and lit up another. "How much longer do you think it will take the car to get here?"
Francis shrugged. He was definitely getting light headed. "No clue," he said, leaning a little on Gilbert, who, if he noticed, didn't say anything. "No fucking clue."
A/N: Next chapter will be little bit more serious but it might also be a little confusing. Sorry, but that's all I can give you. Thanks again for the wonderful feedback. I love France/Prussia but it's so rare and I'm glad people are actually give it a chance ;A;
And remember kids, just because my characters smoke and drink copious amounts of wine doesn't mean you should too. Take care of yourself!
-with love
dancer
