"Here's the card they gave me," Roderich said. "It's just got a number and a name. Ivan."

Ivan. Ok. We can deal with this. Woo the sister, right? A little flattery here and there, a couple of well placed remarks…. I could do this. I mean just look at me. I'm one good looking, awesome, son of a bitch. Suave as all get the hell out. This bitch ain't gonna know what hit her. She'll be a puddle at my feet. She'll chase me down the street, forlorn. 'Gilbert, you smexy piece of man you, don't go!'

Hmmm… On second thought, this might be a little hard to explain to Roderich. I mean we were to-t-t-together now. And all that.

Ok, here's the plan. I'm still going to knock this chick's socks off but I'm definitely not going to tell Roderich about it. I just cannot see that ending well for me.

Resolved, I took the card from Roderich and glanced at it. Plain white business card. Just the name Ivan and a phone number. Well, I guess I should call the number and request a meeting. The hard part was going to be getting at the sister. Somehow, I don't think it's going to be easy. I mean, you just can't waltz into a place filled with angry Russians and demand to see their leader. Not if you want your face to look the same going out as it did when you came in.

What do I know about Russians, I mused. They like vodka. They come from Russia. The whole country has been tangling with socialism for a long time. It's cold in Russia all of the time so they wear furry hats. Russian chicks have big jugs. Russian men are burly and mean and make their women chop wood.

Ok, I just realize that the extent of my knowledge of Russia has been derived from bad pornos and shitty movies.

Roderich was looking at me curiously now and I realized that I'd probably been staring at this business card for quite some time. "I'm going to call up this Ivan fellow and try to set up a meeting. I'll talk to him. See if we can't come to some sort of middle ground."

"Gilbert, I don't like the sound of this," Roderich said, frowning. He really did look worried. "I know you told me that you can handle it but frankly, I have doubts. I mean, this is a mob that we're dealing with. They are dangerous!"

"Don't worry, Roddy. I'm just going to talk with them. I'll be careful. I won't say anything to anger them." Ok, I really shouldn't promise that because more than likely I will but he doesn't need to know that. Roderich didn't look convinced but he grudgingly agreed.

Roderich walked me to the door, rubbing his temples. "I think I'm going to go lie down now. I don't feel so well this morning." I grinned. "That wouldn't have anything to do with an empty bottle of scotch in the library, would it?" Roderich flinched like someone had hit him. "Don't mention the S word ever again. Ugh." I decided to skip the I told you so's.

Roderich paused, his hand on the door knob. "Ah, did you want to, maybe, if you're not busy, um, do something this Friday?" Roderich's eyes flitted nervously around, not quite daring to hold my gaze for more than a second. Oh sure, he can play complicated piano pieces in front of hundreds of people. He can brazenly steal credit away from a dead man. He can orchestrate a plan to rip off an insurance company. But when it comes to asking someone on a date Roderich was lost. He's so damned repressed. It's kinda cute, actually.

"Sure. I'd like that. Let's go out for dinner. How bout I pick you up at six?"

"Ok," he replied, clearly relieved. He finally looked at me and smiled a bit.

My devilish side is starting to kick up. I can't help but to walk a little too close to Roderich as I pass him on my way out the door. I stop just as I pass him, as if on an afterthought. Turning around slightly I give him an easy smile and say huskily, "then I guess I'll see you Friday, Roderich." He's trying to keep control of himself, to not let his eyes widen or his breath quicken. Roderich holds out well, not even stuttering when he replies, "yeah." But he can't control the shaky breath that exits his lips.

Damn, I got him good, I thought as I walked towards my car. Firstly, can I just say that I've still got it baby! Secondly, I love to watch Roderich come undone. I'm thinking I'm going to enjoy rattling his posh, upright behavior whenever I can. But not in a mean way, mind you. Just… playful like.

I love a good challenge.

XxXxX

The first thing I did when I got home was heat up some food. Damn, I'm hungry. I haven't eaten all day. It's so weird coming home to a full fridge. I'm a man. I don't have time to buy food. I'm always too busy drinking or fucking or wrestling bears to go to some pussy ass grocery store. I mean really, who even drinks milk these days? Domesticated people, I guess. Well, I'm not complaining as I pour a glass of milk to go along with the tuna casserole I'm throwing in the microwave.

I ate my meal right out of the Tupperware container. No need to dirty dishes unnecessarily. That's another thing. I hate doing dishes. I'll wait until there are literally none left in the cupboard before I'll even think of touching them. This has lead to some rather creative uses of kitchen utensils. For example—have you ever ate ice cream with chopsticks? I have. It's actually not as hard as you'd think. I've eaten a whole meal with two knifes because there were no clean forks. That's actually unnecessarily hard.

Fuck dishes, man. That's what I'm saying.

XxXxX

After I was done eating I flopped down on my office chair. I held the card in my hand. Time to call Ivan. I should probably pick up the phone and dial the number.

Yeah. now.

Ok, anytime here, Gilbert.

Aaaaand go!

Ok, so can you blame me for procrastinating? I mean, who the hell are we kidding? This is going to go horribly. When you mix crazy fucking Russians and my bad attitude we're talking catastrophe. C'mon. Don't dick me around. You know I'm going to get myself into some bad shit here. It's sort of inevitable. I just hope I can get myself back out again.

Ah, well. No sense in drawing this out. I picked up the phone and dialed the number. Ring… ring… ring… ring… ring… ri-"Hallo?"

"Um, yes. Is Ivan in?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, the man spoke again. "Who is this?" he had just the tiniest trace of an accent.

"I'm calling on behalf of Roderich Edelstein. I would like to talk to Ivan."

"Wait one minute." After a few moments the same man came back on the line. "When can we pick up the money?"

"There isn't going to be any money unless I can have a meeting with Ivan to negotiate the terms."

"Negotiations? Comrade, we are not equals in this situation. WE call the shots."

"Here's the deal, bud. Either Ivan agrees to meet me and negotiate or we won't pay. If we don't pay then, yeah, sure, you kill Edelstein. Big fucking deal. You gain nothing and have a big fucking mess to deal with. I'll call back in five minutes. Have Ivan's answer ready." I hung up the phone. Damn, this is intense.

As you can probably guess, it would be a big fucking deal if they killed Roderich but they didn't know that. Ok, here's my angle. I'm going to act as Roderich's negotiator. He's nothing to me but a client. We have no personal ties. If he gets wasted by the Russians it's no skin off of my back. That puts me in a position of power. They can't strong arm me if this is just a job to me.

Trust me, when I call back they'll agree to meet. That's the easy part. Getting to the sister, on the other hand, that's going to take some serious maneuvering. I have no idea what to expect from them. How am I supposed to come up with a completely awesome plan if I'm going into this blind? I couldn't even ask Francis for information. The Russian mob doesn't associate with outsiders. The information on them is virtually nonexistent. I'm lucky I got what I did out of Vargas.

I picked up the phone again and punched in the numbers. It rang only once before I heard it pick up.

"Well?"

"The Joker. The restaurant on South Kings lane. Meet us there tomorrow evening at seven." The phone line clicked off. I sat the phone down on my desk.

For better or for worse, the game was afoot.

XxXxX

Well, I couldn't do anything more today for my cases so I decided to take that nap. Yes, I finally decided to take the nap I started four fucking days ago. It was long overdue and much deserved. It was perfect. I let down the shutters in my room and climbed into my cool bed. The sheets smelled good since Italy had done laundry yesterday. I was finally going to get a chance to go to bed not drunk, battered, or harassed.

I curled up with my pillow and let out a sigh of contentment. Oh, yes. Nothing more relaxing than a siesta. I'm just going to forget everything. Vargas who? What Russian mob? Who stole a what now? And so help me, if anything disturbs me I'm going to shank somebody.

I felt all warm and cozy and drowsy. My eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. I just let them close. No use fighting it.

XxXxX

I yawned as my eye lids fluttered open. Evening light was leaking through the blinds and making slats on my bed sheets. I could hear the soft clatter of Italy clinking dishes in the kitchen. Ah, yes. What a refreshing nap. Stretching as I detangled myself from the sheets and walked towards the bedroom door, I felt in a terrific mood. I felt even better once I opened the door and smelled dinner. Oh, yes. This is living.

"Oh, hullo, sleepyhead," Italy said as he took potatoes out of the oven with a blue oven mitt, "I was just going to wake you. Dinner is ready. Didja have a nice nap?"

I nodded and yawned again. I'm just surprised that I could nap properly. Honestly, I expected the phone to ring or Italy to come bursting in or the apartment to catch fire while I was sleeping. Anything to ruin my day.

While we were piling food on our plates Italy paused, serving spoon midair. "Oh, yes. While you were sleeping some men came and delivered two crates. They have German written on the side. They're by your desk." Fuckin' A. Must be my beer. Maybe I could forgive Francis now. Maybe.

"Awesome. It's two crates of fucking amazing German beer. You can have some if you want."

Italy wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "No, thanks. Ludwig drinks that stuff sometimes. And he drinks it warm. Ewwww! I don't drink anyways."

"What do you mean you don't drink. You drink every day."

Italy looked confused. "What? No I don't."

"Yes, you do," I insisted. "You're drinking right now." I motioned towards the glass of red wine he was holding in his left hand.

"What? Wine isn't drinking. It's good for your heart."

"Doesn't matter, still counts."

"Does not," he retorted. "Not for us Italians, at least." I just shrugged. I'm not going to argue with the guy here. It's not my problem if he's a functioning alcoholic. But at least he's a functioning alcoholic with a really healthy heart, right?

XxXxX

After dinner I was lounging on the couch completely ignoring some stupid movie and drinking beer. And yes, I was drinking it warm. That's the only way you can drink good German beer. To put it on ice would be a blasphemy. "Ve~Gilbert! Ludwig is on the phone. He wants to talk to you since you're home for once!" Argh. Is it too late to jump out of the window? Maybe I can slip out the front door and…. No, Italy will totally rat me out.

Frowning, I took the phone from that smiling idiot and said hello tiredly into the phone. "Gilbert, are you treating Feliciano good?"

"Why?" I asked angrily, "has he been bitching or something?"

"No, but you know how he is. You'd have to make him cry before he'd say anything." I remained silent. Because, uh, technically I had made him cry. "Anyways," West went on, oblivious to my guilty silence, "Feli seems to be doing good so thanks, I guess. I've only got two complaints." Oh, only two? Joy…. That's about three more than I wanted to hear.

"First, I've called a couple of times in the evening and you haven't been home. Can you please try better in the future? I just worry about him being home alone in the dark. Secondly, sleeping on your couch is giving Feli a backache. Can you let him sleep in your bed a night or two?"

"Wha? But that's where I sleep," I said stupidly. I mean, come on here, I was doing West a favor by letting Feli crash here in the first place and now he wants me to give him my bed? What's next, the shirt off of my back? I'm telling you, it wouldn't fit him anyways!

"Yes," West said patiently, using his 'Gilbert-is-acting-like-a-child' voice that I abhor. "But I was thinking you could take the couch. Obviously I don't want you two sleeping in the same bed." This struck me as funny. After all, I do seem to be into men these days. Luckily, West couldn't see me smiling through the phone. "Besides," West continued. "You owe him for all the cleaning and cooking he's been doing for you lately."

"Fine, fine," I relented, not happy. "But only since Feli's cooking is so good." West sighed, happy that the ordeal was settled. I asked him if he wanted to talk to Feli again but he declined. He was just getting ready to head down to a late dinner. I said my goodbye and hung up the phone.

"Ve~Gilbert?" I heard Italy calling.

"What?" I yelled back, reluctant to get up from the couch.

"I'd just thought you'd like to know that the little birdie's eggs have hatched."

What? Are we speaking in code or something? Am I supposed to reply back in code? Might as well give it a try.

"Yes, but the orchestra isn't ready to play the foxtrot so we have to wait until the condor is ready to swoop"

Italy came power walking into the living room. "What?" he said curiously, standing in front of me with his fists on his hips and a bemused grin on his face.

"What." I replied back. He started it after all.

Italy shook his head, as if to clear away the nonsense going on. "Did you hear me? The little birdie's eggs have hatched."

"I don't know what that means. Is it some kind of euphemism?"

"Eupha-what? Nevermind, don't you want to come see?"

"See what? You're just talking in circles."

"You know that little yellow bird that hangs around outside your windows? The one who made a nest in the window ledge in your bedroom?"

"No," I said blankly. I've never seen any birds hanging around.

"You have to know what I'm talking about. I see it flying by the windows all of the time! It even taps on the glass sometimes. It has a big, cozy nest on your window ledge and its eggs have hatched! There's little chicklets!"

"I'll take your word for it," I said, turning back to my movie. I've lived here for quite a long time and I've never seen no damned bird hanging around, especially on my windowsill. I'd have to talk to West about this kid when he gets home. Italy might have a brain tumor or something. Seriously, that would explain a lot. Oh, speaking of being messed up mentally, I'm supposed to be reconciling the Vargas brothers.

"Why don't you sit down for a bit, Feli. We can talk." I picked up the remote and switched the T.V. off.

"Ok," he said, mildly surprised. He sat down next to me. "What did you want to talk about? Your boyfriend, maybe?"

I opened my mouth to say that Roderich wasn't my boyfriend but then I shut it. Because he kinda was. "Well, why don't you go first? I know you still feel bad about what happened with Romano the other night. I feel bad about pushing you to call him. How about we talk about that?"

Italy looked upset. He bit his lip and shook his head. "Uh uh. I don't wanna talk about that."

"C'mon. You know you'll feel better if you talk about it. If you talk about it I'll tell you about my, uh, sorta-boyfriend." I could tell Italy was weighing my offer. On the one hand, he really didn't want to talk about Romano. I don't blame him. On the other hand, he was curious about my, uh, about what happened between me and Roderich. Finally, Italy seemed to come to a decision. "When I talked to Romano he called me a frocio. That is a hurtful way to refer to homosexuals in Rome. Even after I apologized. Even after I said I was sorry for something I'm not. I'm not sorry I love Ludwig. I'm sorry that it caused problems between Romano and me. I know it isn't the lifestyle Romano would choose for me but why can't he respect what I want? I can't help who I am or who I love. If my brother truly cared for me he would understand. He would love me no matter what. Obviously, he doesn't and there is nothing I can do to change that. He's finally burned the bridge with his anger and hate. I'm done with him. Forever."

"Oh, come on," I said nervously. "That's a harsh thing to say. I'm sure that you'll reconcile. Probably sooner than you think."

"No, Gilbert. We won't. And I'm ok with that. Romano doesn't deserve my love and forgiveness. He's mean and spiteful and controlling. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Romano might as well be dead to me for all it matters." Again, Italy had that funny look on his face. The one of hard resolve and blunt anger. It didn't suit his normally soft features. I could tell the issue was closed for now. Anything more I said would just anger and upset him.

I sighed roughly and ran a hand through my hair. How am I going to fix this now? Italy took my gesture as frustration at my own blunder. "Don't beat yourself up about it, Gil. There's no way you could have known that encouraging me to call my brother would have ended like that. You had good intentions." He smiled at me encouragingly, as if to punctuate his forgiveness. Italy thought I had good intentions. Wow does that make me feel like a cur. "So go ahead," Italy said brightly. "Tell me about this new guy. I'm dying to know!"

"Ah, well," I began, embarrassed by the whole thing. "His name is Roderich. He's my client. I'm trying to find his missing piano. I dunno, I didn't like him at first but then something changed. I saw him different, I guess. I kissed him the other night. Hell, it surprised me. I didn't even know I was into that kind of thing. We're going out on a date on Friday. That's it. Nothing else to tell."

Feli was beaming. "Oh~" he squealed. "That is soooo exiting! What are you going to wear on your date?"

"I dunno," I said, perplexed. "I don't, uh, usually plan what I'm going to wear. I just grab some stuff out of the closet and go." Ok, I may be gay but that doesn't mean I've developed a sense of fashion over night. Feli rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh Gilbert. How typical of you. You need to plan these sorts of things. Have you decided where you'll take him?"

"No," I said slowly. "He asked me out. Doesn't that mean he has to pick?" Italy shook his head slowly and with plenty of exasperation. "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. There's still so much for you to learn. Here, I'll help you out. I'll pick your clothes out for you and you pick the restaurant. Make it someplace nice."

"Ok," I said slowly. I didn't realize how much effort had to go into these kinds of things. It's a good thing I have Italy here to help me. I don't doubt what he's telling me for a moment. He's the one that's good at stuff like this.

Feliciano hummed happily and chattered on a bit about what him and Ludwig usually do for dates. He was getting a bit carried away. And a bit too detailed.

"Hey!" I interjected. "Just stop right there. I don't need to know about what you guys do after the date." Italy giggled shyly. "I'm sorry. I got a bit carried away. I just love romance. Isn't it just so exiting?"

"I guess so," I agreed dubiously. Sounded like a lot of work to me.

XxXxX

Later, once I was laying on the couch in the living room (Damn, I didn't realize how uncomfortable this thing was until now!) I thought about my cases. I couldn't decide which one was harder. Dealing with the Russians was going to be tricky and dangerous. However, dealing with the Vargas brothers is equally tricky and uncomfortably personal. Basically, whatever the outcome of the Vargas brothers is it will affect my life and Ludwig and Feli's. It's a lot of pressure, I'm telling you.

I shifted on the couch in an attempt to be more comfortable. It didn't work much. And then there's Roderich. I don't know what to do with that. It all seemed to move so fast. I realized that I hardly knew the guy. I mean, yes, I do know him. But I don't know him, if you know what I mean. Yes, I am drawn to him, but is that enough to be the basis of a relationship? I'm going to be honest; I'm not the easiest person to get to know. What if I fuck this up? What if I hurt him?

The thought made me feel rather ill. I really don't want to hurt him. It's not fair of me to still be unsure of myself around him. I guess it was still too early to tell. Still, I wish I knew.

Well, ya can't know, I thought angrily, turning over on my side, comfort evading me on this damned lumpy couch. So why don't you just shut the hell up and go to sleep?

Ugh. I would that I could. But if my racing thoughts didn't impede my sleep this lumpy couch sure would.

Sigh. Good thing I'd had a nap today, I thought morosely.

XxXxX

[A/N Sooooo. Yeah. I know this chapter was kinda slow but I just didn't want to skip a whole day just because there was nothing exiting for Gilbert to do. Anyways, as always, please review!

Oh, also, I put out two Roderich/Gilbert one shot fanfics this week if you'd like to check them out. As a warning, they're rated a hard M.]