Fourth period was the period that all three ditched: Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert. Francis and Antonio were there first, because both of them only had P.E. All that they had to do was to wander in to the locker room and give the coach a head's up. He'd mark their names down on the attendance sheet and promptly forget that they never actually got dressed and came to class. Instead, they would wander down to the back of the old sports-equipment shed and lounge until Gilbert got there.

Gilbert had biology (for the third time. If he didn't pass this year, he wasn't graduating) but he snuck out of the back of the room fifteen minutes in. Mr. Milo was the kind of teacher who read everything directly off the overhead, so everything was dark and it wasn't hard to slip away. Gilbert rationalized his absence as the fact he could copy all of his bruder's notes and not miss a thing. He wasn't going to point out that his bruder was two years younger and still in the same class.

Today, Francis and Antonio waited for their other friend, sprawled on the dirt behind the shed. Antonio had flopped down first, and Francis, biting his lip and looking like he was steeling himself for something, sat between Antonio's legs and leaned into his chest. Antonio laughed and hugged his friend closer.

"Cielos! Where is Gil? He's usually here earlier than this," said Antonio mildly, closing his eyes as if he were about to take a nap. Francis shifted his head to look up at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Where isn't Gilbert? He could be chasing a girl, he could be smoking pot, he could have gotten lost and decided to crash Roderique's orchestra class as he has so many times before."

Antonio made a sound of acquiescence, not opening his eyes. "True, true."

There was a silence in which Antonio was entirely too relaxed; Francis felt that he was absolutely at his most awkward. Did Antonio not notice exactly what position they were…?

"Hey bitches, miss me?" crowed Gilbert, sidling over to plop down and flop his head onto one of Antonio's thighs. Merde. Sometimes the inherent closeness between the three was more of a roadblock than anything.

There was something dangling from Gilbert's long, pale fingers. It was half a cardboard milk container, like the ones sold in the cafeteria, and it had a thin plastic handle attached to it. Inside was a bunch of what looked like newspaper shavings, and… a small, white egg.

"Gilbert, what on earth…?" Francis asked.

Gilbert flashed him a knowing smile, raking his gaze across Francis' position, before smiling with a little less malice and a little more pride. "My biology project, baby. We have to watch an egg for a week, bring it to class and home and all that. Supposed to simulate a kid. Pff whatever, raising West was way harder than dragging around an egg." Gilbert had been taking care of his younger brother since his parents died in a car crash some years ago. They had a grandfather as well, who provided for them and tried to be supportive, but he was like Gil's brother in his staid demeanour. He was also a research professor and was often gone for long periods of time on projects in all parts of the world, mostly archeological digs in central Italy.

"Mmm… aren't you supposed to have a partner for the project?" asked Antonio, cracking open one eye. "Me and Francis had an egg, little Andorra." He smiled fondly, as if the egg had been an actual daughter.

"Well, yeah, but there's an odd number of kids in the class. Plus, I'm too awesome to get married and have someone else raise my kid."

"Then how did you get the kid – egg – in the first place?" demanded Francis. "Biologically, its not really possible."

"Cuz 'asexual' starts with 'a', just like awesome does."

That caused a round of snorts. Still, it was funny to see the look of parental tenderness in Gilbert's face as he contemplated the package in his palm.

"You know that those aren't fertilized, right?" Antonio said bluntly. "It's not going to hatch or anything. I learned that the hard way." His tone turned a little wistful.

"You never know," Gilbert shot back. "Since his daddy is so awesome and stuff."

"Then just keep sitting on it, mon amie." Francis said with a shake of his head.

The silence was companionable; they might just take a nap today, if no other shenanigans presented themselves. Out of the blue quiet, Antonio said in a low, awestruck voice. "He smiled at me this morning. In the car. He smiled at me when I complimented him and blushed and it was adorable."

Francis stiffened and Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Uh-oh… they all knew who Antonio had been talking about (who Antonio had been talking about since Romano was a freshman) but now, with the distinct beginnings of a love triangle beginning mitosis, the announcement was met with calm contentedness only on Antonio's part.

Francis spoke first. "Mmm… mon amie that is a very good sign, but…" He turned his gaze to Gilbert, begging him with a look that clearly announced "help me". Gilbert shrugged and smiled nastily as if to say "Nope, this is your problem!"

"But…?" asked Antonio pleasantly.

"Well… do you think… how can you be sure that the boy likes you?"

Gilbert let out a snort.

Antonio froze. "H-huh?"

"Toni. My friend, you have been chasing this boy for years upon years and nothing that you have done has been much of help. I think that you have made your intentions perfectly clear to him, but have you really received any sort of confirmation that the boy is even interested?"

Antonio's mouth hung open, mind working slowly.

On his other side, Gilbert sighed. "Actually, I'm gonna agree with Frankie here. I think you and that bitchy Italian fit, in some weird way." He received a jab in the ribs from Francis for that. "… but… I think you need some sort of confirmation. Really, Tony. You should… I dunno, just tell him. And if he rejects you, well," he shrugged. "There are other fish in the sea."

Antonio's lips moved soundlessly. Finally:

"Is that why he is so reluctant? He doesn't think that I love him?" Antonio shot to his feet. "That's it, I have to do something about that." Francis and Gilbert fell unceremoniously off of their human pillow.

"D-do something?" asked Francis, cursing himself. "Non, non, that's not –"

"I'll do it today, in drama club! He said he'd come watch! This is perfect!"

"Antonio, I don't think –"

But the boy was gone. Francis glared at Gilbert. "If you are not gone in three seconds, your little egg is quiche."