DREAM 2: HAVE A MAID
The next day found the posse of seven together in the Beilschmidt house, or more exact, the kitchen.
"Okay, so petting Feli's hair was interrupted, but we got to 56 minutes. Hey, maybe we can try again-"
"You're not touching my brother again, bastard!"
"Well fine." Gilbert traded a glare with Lovino. "Anyway, so I guess that's as good as we'll get, but don't worry, because we have more to do!" His enthusiasm didn't quite spread to the rest of the group, Lovino still angry as a hornet and Ludwig serving as proof of this, sporting not only a bruised shin but a bounty of scratches on his face. Punishment for not protecting Feliciano better, according to Lovino. Needless to say, Ludwig wasn't too jovial either.
Antonio, much to Gilbert's pleasure, was his sole supporter in this endeavor (Feliciano would have been, but he was still quite shaken over his encounter with Ivan), practically bursting with excitement for their next adventure. "What's next, amigo? What are we doing next?"
Pulling a crumpled sheet of paper from his back pocket, Gilbert eagerly wondered what was next. Once unraveled, Gilbert's previous grin exploded into something positively radiant, glee dousing the air around him. "Number Two: Get a maid."
Francis snapped to attention, the topic taking a turn for one of his favorite fantasies. "A maid, you say? I do hope you mean a French maid." Already his mind was churning out images of lace, short dresses, ribbons, transparent black stockings going up long, long legs, and who could forget the deliciously low-cut collar that dipped down to cover just enough cleavage? He couldn't, and the thought of a sexy little maid calling him Master was getting him rather turned on. He might have been drooling a bit.
"Something like that, yeah."
"What would we need a maid for, Bruder? I keep our house very clean," Ludwig reminded him, a little offended by his brother's comment. Was Gilbert not happy with how he cleaned? He took care of everything, even Gilbert's own messes, and made sure everything was spotless and organized. He did an astounding job, if Ludwig said so himself.
Putting on his most pathetic and dramatic face Gilbert immediately began whining. "But Weeeest, you wouldn't look sexy in a dress," he complained, taking this opportunity to cling to Elizabeta forlornly. "I need a woman, not a burly and gross German little brother."
Elizabeta bristled when Gilbert emphasized "woman" by squeezing her hip, not exactly happy with the direction this conversation was taking. "No, Gilbert, no. There's no way I'm going to wear a skanky little maid outfit just so you can complete your bucket list. Why don't you get some other girl?"
"Because I don't want some other girl, I want you!"
Elizabeta blushed lightly, secretly loving the compliment. Gilbert could be so sweet sometimes...
"And you'd fill it out so nicely!" Gilbert gave a sharp wolf whistle then, tracing the outlines of an invisible hourglass in the air. His lecherous smirk completed the picture.
"Ugh, you pig!" SMACK. "I will never do something like that, do you hear me? Besides, it's a French maid, so who better than Francis to play the part?"
"Ew, no way-"
"I humbly accept!"
All was quiet, heads turning to spy Francis standing, a twinkle of determination in his eye.
"Wh-what...the...fuck," Lovino began, surprised stray chuckles making way for hysterical cackling, humored tears pricking at his eyes. "Wow, what a freak! I kn-knew you were a perverted bastard, b-but this takes the cake!"
Francis' expression immediately turned sour, his angry blue eyes locking on Lovino's laughing face. "You are not as funny as you think you are! Perhaps I should teach you what humor really is!"
"Aaack! Get away, you cross-dressing dickface! Stop chasing me!"
The chase, in the end, left a breathless and seething Lovino captured in the arms of Antonio, whispering kind words about how Francis would leave him alone, and oh, Lovino would look so cute as a French maid! The other, less adorable side of the spectrum had a still-rather-angry Francis glaring at Lovino, a pouty frown on his face. "Well, if we are needing a dress, shall we go to my home? I'm sure we can find what we are looking for there."
"Oh, I'll bet we can, jerk."
"Silence!"
"Well? What do you think, mon ami?"
"Ugh." Gilbert's expression could easily be translated to "displeasure", feeling slightly mortified at seeing one of his best friends, well...dressed like a chick. "To be honest, it's creeping me out. Seriously. I mean, you don't have boobs, and you have a beard! How is this supposed to be sexy?"
"Shall I stuff my bra, then?"
"No! It's just...you're just too manly. We need a real woman!"
Francis gasped, raising a hand to his chest as if stricken. "How could you say something like that? I'll have you know I am more beautiful than a good number of women!"
"He is right, you know," Antonio supplied. "I've seen some pretty ugly women in my time."
Gilbert paused to consider this. Reflecting back on history, he had to agree that Francis looked better than the beastly women he sometimes saw in Germany. His legs were pretty nice too, if you shaved the hair off. "I guess that's true. So, what now? Do we go back to my place?"
A whine of protest escaped Feliciano's mouth, followed soon by a yawn. "Gilbert's house is too far, and Brother and I missed our siesta!" Eyes traveled over to Lovino, who was also looking exhausted, eyelids drooping slightly. "Can't we just stay here?"
"How can he be my maid if we're at his house?"
Suddenly, Gilbert's sight was blocked by a dress-clad Francis, holding his chin and staring deeply into his eyes. "If I cannot clean your house, Master Gilbert, surely there is a more personal service I can provide for you~?"
"YesYesYesYesYesYesYes," Elizabeta chanted hungrily, snapping photo after photo as Francis' fingers continued to wander over Gilbert's body.
"Oh! Why don't you clean your house?"
"...What?"
"Yeah! That way you'll be doing your maid stuff WHILE getting your house cleaned!" Gilbert made a show of prying Francis' hands off of his body. "AND you won't be touching me. No offense."
Francis sighed, disappointed by an opportunity lost. "None taken. I know my amazing intimate sexual prowess can be intimidating to those with less experience."
"Pfff. Yeah, that's totally it. Just get to work, Francine."
"Heehee! Oui, Master Gilbert~!"
Luckily, neither Gilbert nor Francis heard Lovino's mocking snicker, or else the entire ordeal would last well into the next day.
Gilbert huffed dejectedly, repositioning himself on Elizabeta's cream-colored sofa, mourning the fact that his plan didn't pan out like he thought it would. Elizabeta seemed to sense his bad mood too; she hadn't said a word to him since they arrived home, and he hadn't seen head nor tail of her in the 43 minutes they'd been home. Another day wasted.
"Hey, Gilbert."
Now here was a strange occurence. He turned his head around to face a timid Elizabeta who was currently hiding behind the corner of the hallway and was peering into the room nervously. Not a thing about her was out of the ordinary (save for her sudden shyness), but Gilbert noticed a yellow cloth was fastened over her hair. "Lizzy? What's wrong?" He took his feet down from the seat and scooted over, a silent invitation for Elizabeta to sit with him.
"W-well, uhm...I was..." Elizabeta furrowed her brows, trying to regulate her breathing so she could move on to the more nerve-wracking part of her speech. "A-ah...Is there anything I can do for you, M-Master Gilbert?" It was then that Elizabeta stepped out from her hiding place to be fully visible, meeting Gilbert's eyes for a second before looking away, hands fidgeting with her dress relentlessly.
Her dress. Her maid uniform from her time working in Roderich's house.
Gilbert could only stare at her in awe, hardly able to believe that his girlfriend was doing this for him. Was this a dream?
"I-I know you were going for a French maid, but I don't have an outfit like th-that, and geez, th-this is embarrassing," Elizabeta mumbled almost apoligetically, flushing considerably and already backtracking in her movements. "J-just forget it, I-I'm going to go change now-"
"Lizzy."
Nervously turning back around, Elizabeta was greeted with the sight of Gilbert once again sprawled out on her sofa, grinning as though he'd just been crowned the King of Europe.
"Don't change just yet; I'm sure we can find something you can do for me..."
