Oh guys, I am so sorry that I didn't update for so long! It started off with waiting for a response (it's lovely that you responded so well, thank you, I read your reviews!) and then I forgot my password, and then my computer decided to troll me…
I have a strange feeling that this chapter won't make up for it. It's not really that funny, I apologise! It's too descriptive. I'm English, by the way, so spellings like 'metre' and 'centimetre' are right for me. If you don't know what some things I mention are, because of culture differences (LOL that sounded lame), then tell me!
I hope you like it.
I don't own Hetalia, the countries, or the characters. I do own the plot for this story, though,
Mathias spent the entire walk back to Gilbert's flat wondering who Lukas Bondevik was. He definitely wasn't English, and Mathias had a feeling that this guy was Norwegian. Roderich had refused to say any more on the matter, and Ludwig said that Gilbert's presence would cause problems with the other workers; they left pretty quickly. The last problem with a worker wasn't exactly minor.
Gilbert unlocked the door to the apartment, and Mathias shoved past him first.
"Ya snooze, ya loose." He reminded the 'Prussian'.
Mathias' eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he sniggered when he saw a pack of Wotsists squashed into the carpet, and wires tangled in a treacherous maze on the floor. Gilbert didn't have any clothes in his cupboard. They were all draped over the stained furniture.
Mathias didn't particularly likemess, but he wasn't someone who would clean it up, either. And besides; their clothes went well with the black and red colour scheme of the flat. It was Gilbert's flat; therefore, it was Gilbert's mess. Mathias was just mooching off him, just like Gilbert had mooched off his own brother.
There were a few belongings which had to be treated with great respect, and be clearly separated from the mess. There was Gilbird, of course, and Gilbert's phone and laptop. For Mathias: there was his coat, his hat, and that was it.
Although, there was something that bothof them respected. It was Mathias' axe. Not the most ordinary thing to have in your house (it was hell to get it past customs), but this axe had been in Mathias' family for ages. Literally.
"Yo, Mathias! Snap out of it, dude, you look like you're stoned!" a pale hand waving in front of Mathias' face woke him from his thoughts, and the latter chuckled.
"Ja, 'stoned'. I took your stash, bro."
Gilbert feigned great shock, "oh, Mathias, why would you do such a thing?"
They looked at each other for a few seconds, before bursting into raucous laughter; Gilbert even fell onto the sofa, squashing another pack of Wotsits.
"Get the beer." Gilbert indicated the fridge…entirely dedicated to the liquid.
Gilbert was now on the floor, the sentence 'gay for Roddy' written on his forehead in felt tip pen.
Mathias yawned, typing in 'fivemetres' into the password section of Gilbert's laptop. He gulped half a can of beer in one go, and typed 'Lukas Bondevik' into Google.
Gilbert had tried around half an hour ago; and why he figured there was an 'x' in Lukas' name was beyond Mathias.
He scanned the results, and switched the language settings to Danish after two minutes of trying to translate long words. He still didn't know what they meant…he couldn't decide whether it was due to poor English, stupidity, or the hangover that was causing that pounding feeling in his brain.
Do brains feel anything?
He shook his head, and looked back at the page. He saw a website that had a bunch of statistics on it. Apparently, this Lukas guy was the 7th richest person in Norway…and that was one year ago.
"He's probably really old or something…with a beard. He probably invented sharpeners." Mathias mused, stroking his chin like an inspector. What would death by sharpeners be like?
"No shit, Sherlock," Gilbert murmured, drool dripping out from his mouth, orange crumbs from the Wotsits stuck in his hair.
Mathias snorted, and thought to himself, "What's the worst Lukey boy can do? Throw a monocle at us?"
They had finally packed everything…without so much as folding a sock. Who folds socks, anyway? Mathias had somehow squashed his axe into the bag, and squeezed his clothes around it, successfully disguising it. Now it looked like there was a child in the bag. Whoops.
Gilbert had miraculously avoided a hangover, and Mathias had some aspirin with him.
"This is gonna be fucking awesome!" Gilbert grinned, "My friends Francis and Antonio will be there."
The names rang a bell. It wasn't a coincidence that the three of them were going to meet up on this boat.
"What do you call yourselves again?" I forgot." Mathias inquired. They had an interesting name, a name that they'd earned themselves in college.
"Bad Friends Trio." Gilbert replied, before quickly explaining, "We're not bad friends. I mean, we're badass."
Mathias raised a dark eyebrow and swung his bag over the shoulder. Gilbert did the same, and so they walked to the port.
Mathias passed Marie on the way, and he mouthed, "In our pot of gold, sucker!"
Gilbert sniggered, and they eventually reached the port in high spirits. It was exciting; it resembled something out of a film. It was a lovely day, and an incredibly large boat was docked. A crowd of people, surprisingly small, was waiting outside it. There were barely any families in sight.
"Dude! We get more beer that way!" Gilbert pointed out, and Mathias did a little victory dance on the spot.
"D'you m'nd m'vin' 'long a b't?" a rather intimidating voice grumbled.
Mathias looked up (much to his dismay; he hated being shorter than people), "What? Who are you supposed to be, Swede?"
"Ohhh, Mathias, don't be racist! How do you even know he's Swedish?" Gilbert was suddenly the voice of reason, and Mathias ignored him.
"'m the b'dyguard 'f som'ne 'ere. I d'n't w'nna get him 'ngrym 'nd you sh'ldn't, eith'r." the Swedish bodyguard replied.
"Oh! Are ya Lukas Bondevik's bodyguard, then?" Mathias asked, but didn't give the bespectacled blond time to answer, "Nah, wait, if you were permanent then you'd be Norwegian, 'cause to be a permanent bodyguard you'd have to have been born in Norway, and you're definitely Swedish."
The Swedish man blinked, "Wow. Yer smart'r th'n you look."
"I know, but how did ya get to be this guy's bodyguard?" persisted Mathias, keen to know a little bit about this Bondevik character.
"Got h'red by th' boat comp'ny. Lots 'f security p'ple did. 'cause of Bondevik 'nd all. So th't th're weren't too m'ny pass'ngers 'n th' boat."
Gilbert sniggered as he noticed that this man was slowly starting to realise that he was opening up to a complete stranger. Mathias did have that effect on most people.
"Do ya know any of your fellow security people?" Mathias demanded.
The Swedish man pushed up his glasses, "there's Tino, m'partner, 'nd a Swiss guy; he's dang'rous."
Gilbert nodded. What did he mean by 'partner', anyway?
"So this Bondevik is important, then?" Mathias asked excitedly.
The taller blond nodded.
"D'ya think he'd let me have is autograph?" Mathias wondered aloud.
"You'd h've to be v'ry st'pid ter 'sk for it." Remarked the bodyguard, and Mathias glared at him.
"Go emo somewhere else!"
Without another word, the Swede moved on and disappeared into the crowd.
Gilbert raised his eyebrows, before looking at the seagulls circling the boat.
"Are ya lookin' forward to this?" the Dane asked, running a hand through his hair.
Gilbert nodded.
Mathias squinted; the sun was in his eyes. He looked at the floor to avoid going blind, and he saw something glint in the sunlight.
He bent down and picked it up. It was a simple cross pin; it looked like it was made of either silver or white gold, although it was more likely to be fake. Either way it looked nice.
A shadow was cast over the two of them as something blocked the sunlight. Mathias looked up.
A large man was towering over him, a man with a big nose and a light pink scarf.
"What?" demanded Gilbert.
The taller man smiled innocently; although this innocence didn't seem particularly convincing.
"Privet," the rather happy Russian man greeted them.
"What is it?" The self proclaimed Prussian bit back. Mathias was confused; Gilbert seemed to know this guy. Nevertheless, he pretended like he knew what was going on.
"Just wondering whether you fools know how much that thing is worth," he told them lowly, indicating the trinket Mathias was holding, "it's a lot."
Gilbert cackled, "sweet! I can use it to get myself a new room!"
"You can't sell it to anyone here, comrade." The Russian replied, beaming eerily.
Mathias looked up as the Russian suddenly stiffened.
"What?" he asked.
The Russian departed quickly without another word. Mathias and Gilbert exchanged a relieved glance. They could finally relax and get that wonderful anticipation feeling, and get that rush of realisation of how awesome it would be before they set off.
A girl appeared in front of them. She was extremely beautiful, but she looked like the sort of girl who would stab your eyes if you put your hand near her ass. Straight blond hair reached her mid-back, and the bow in her hair clashed with her very un-innocent expression. Even Gilbert and Mathias knew she was off limits.
"Where did my beloved go?" she hissed.
Gilbert pointed her in the right direction, and she shoved past lots of people and left.
"What was that?" Mathias demanded.
"Don't know, but I bet I got that Russian sucker in trouble?" Gilbert said triumphantly.
Mathias shook his head, and that earned him a pat on the back. Creepy.
There was an awkward silence. They didn't really know what to say. What was with these people? What if the boat was full of weirdoes? The creepy Russian, the messed up girl, the emo bodyguard, Francis, Lukas Bondevik…and God forbid that barman being on the boat too.
Mathias realised that the cross pin was still in his hand. He turned to speak to Gilbert, but he was on the phone to somebody. Most likely Ludwig.
Mathias looked at it. The Russian had said it was very valuable…how did he know this guy was telling the truth? It looked valuable enough, but looks can be deceiving. Mathias put a finger to his lips; what do people in films do to check if something's real gold?
That's it! They bitethem! He wiped the cross hastily, and slowly put it in his mouth. Gilbert gave him a strange look, but Mathias didn't notice. Wait. What does biting it tell people? Does it make a noise, does it break?
He bit down slowly on it. It tasted like shampoo…was it for somebody's hair?
Someone else approached them.
'Ah, here we go…' Mathias thought, rolling his eyes.
"What is it?" Gilbert asked this new person exasperatedly, evidently getting frustrated that so many random people were choosing to harass them.
This new person had light blond, slightly messy hair. It looked as if it was usually neat…they had a blank expression, although his indigo eyes showed a flicker of irritation. His pale skin wasn't flushed, though, so he couldn't be that angry. Could he?
The young man ignored Gilbert, and focused his stare on Mathias.
"What?" Mathias demanded, still not taking the cross out of his mouth.
"Give it to me." The new person demanded coldly, a distinct accent shaping the statement.
"What?" Mathias repeated, furrowing his brow.
The shorter blond wasn't fazed, and simply kept on staring hard and piercingly at the Dane.
"Man, you're freakin' me out. Quit it!" Mathias ordered, but this guy didn't stop.
"What are you doing?" Gilbert inquired, looking at the new person. He hated being ignored. As did Mathias.
"OHHH, you want the cross!Man, you should've just said so!" Mathias laughed, but the other guy didn't respond.
"The fuck?" Gilbert hissed.
"The two of you…you are both a waste of time." The blond stated, and snatched the cross out of Mathias' mouth, wiping it disgustedly on the taller man's coat, before walking away.
"Well, you're a bit of a douchebag!" Gilbert yelled after him.
Gilbert and Mathias stared after him for a while, before exchanging a glance.
"That motherfucker is going down."
Thanks for taking the time to read, and if you review, I'd appreciate it!
Doyouwantmetoputinthewaypeopletalk?LikeMathias' "ya" insteadof "you"?ShouldIleaveoutthewaySwedenspeaks?ShouldIkeepforeignlanguagesoutofthis?
Also,don'thesitatetopointouterrorsI'vemade,thanks!Ididn'tbetathis,orz.Bytheway,whichwayiscorrect?
"Iateadog," hesaid, "itwasnice."
"I ate a dog," he said, "It was nice."
"I ate a dog." He said. "It was nice."
"I ate a dog," he said "it was nice."
"I ate a dog" he said, "it was nice."
"I ate a dog" he said "it was nice."
This person didn't actually eat a dog.