Chapter Seven: "The husband who decides to surprise his wife is often very much surprised himself." -Voltaire
Feliks wasn't particularly pleased with himself. He was curled up in one of the stalls in the first floor bathroom, sobbing into toilet paper. If that wasn't pathetic enough, he was in the girls' bathroom. Hiding.
He wasn't sure if anyone was even trying to find him. He wasn't sure if anyone even realized he was gone.
Feliks laugh-sobbed into his mess of tissues. Real life was not like his favorite soap operas. Toris had no idea that Feliks even saw the kiss. Toris probably had no recognition of the kiss! He was probably completely shitfaced and had no real control of his actions.
There would be no dramatic redemption. Toris would not realize the error of his ways and go on an epic quest for Feliks' love. There would be no frantic search party combing over the school grounds.
Toris wouldn't drop to his knees and apologize and Feliks wouldn't have to give a large public forgiveness speech.
There would be no happy ending.
Feliks pulled more toilet paper from the wall.
Toris said he wasn't interested in boys. It was a drunken accident, that kiss. Rational Feliks knew that. Irrational Feliks had been a dumb bitch. Really? Honestly, what was he expecting? Magical fairytale endings with gay fucking rainbows and humping unicorns? Feliks sighed and tossed his arm over his face.
He wasn't sure how long he spent wallowing in misery on the bathroom floor. At least it was a clean bathroom floor?
He didn't know what time it was and he honestly didn't care. Feliks didn't want to share a room with Toris anymore. He'd have to wait until morning to get back into his room. He wasn't so inconsiderate as to burst in on those Nordic lovers—he'd set them up for a reason. He was upset, yes, but not to the point of ruining his plans.
He much preferred to lie on his back on the cold orange tile of the bathroom floor and stare up at the ceiling for ridiculously long periods of time. Ceilings in Italy were very pretty—lots of arches and frescos and this particular ceiling was in a bathroom and was really not so interesting at all but much better to focus on then to let his thoughts drift towards he-who-shall-not-be-named…
"'Ello?"
Feliks froze.
"I know you are here. Why else would the light be on, hmm?"
Feliks cringed. He pushed himself up to a seated position and grabbed some more toilet paper to wipe off his face.
He heard a knock on his stall door, and then Francis' head was peeking under the door.
"What are you doing—ah." Feliks knew he look like a hot mess. "Mon cher, what's wrong?"
"Do I look like I want to talk about it?" Feliks snapped, wiping his face with his hands and trying to avoid another onslaught of tears.
"No need to be testy." Francis replied. "But I am doing rounds and it is far too late to be hiding in the toilet."
"What time is it?" Feliks mumbled.
"It's three-thirty."
"Like, in the morning?"
"Oui."
"Really?"
"Oui."
"Oh." Feliks stared at the floor. "Can't I just stay here until like… morning?"
"Open the stall."
Feliks blinked and unlocked the hatch. Francis walked in and sat down next to Feliks.
"There is something wrong here." Francis remarked. "You switched rooms with the Swede for tonight—"
"How do you know that?"
"I am the RA." Francis was amused. "I know all. Toris upset you?"
"Maybe."
"He was making out with a Russian."
"I don't want to talk about that."
"I see. He looked like he regret it, if that makes it easier."
"What about 'I don't want to talk about it' did you not understand?" Feliks replied sharply, glaring at the other blonde.
Francis just smiled. "I have another bed in my room. Just for tonight, mon petit?"
Feliks sighed. Sleep was a totally good idea. "Okay."
Tino slowly brought awareness to his awakening body. He wiggled his fingers and his toes and let his mind wander. He could remember most of last night, probably because Berwald made him switch to water so early. He didn't know whether to be grateful or embarrassed.
He didn't seem to have a hangover, though. Grateful it was, Tino decided. He yawned and stretched, and then he opened his eyes.
Only to be met with Berwald's stare.
"Jesus Christ!" Tino shrieked, slamming his back against the wall and rocking his lofted bed.
Berwald placed a hand on the bed to steady it. "Morning."
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Feliks and I switched."
"What? Why?"
Berwald shrugged.
Tino groaned and let his head hang.
Immediately recognizing the onset of a hangover, Berwald grabbed a trash bag that he'd spotted the night before.
"Here." Berwald said, holding the bag in Tino's direction.
"I'm not hung over." Tino replied, eyeing the bag wearily.
Berwald frowned and waved the bag.
"I don't want the damn trash bag."
Berwald narrowed his eyes. Tino huffed and grabbed the bag from Berwald's outstretched hand.
"It's too fucking early for this." For you went unspoken.
"Mm." Berwald ignored Tino and searched around the room for—ah, there!
"Take these." Berwald dropped two aspirin and a vitamin on Tino's pillow. Then he turned around to get Tino a glass of water.
"I'm not hung over." Tino said angrily. "I don't need any damn pills."
"Precaution." Berwald said as he presented Tino with the water.
Tino rolled his eyes and took the water. And poured it on Berwald's head.
Berwald's eyes widened in shock.
"Oops." Tino said, deadpanned. "I seem to have spilled my water."
Berwald spun on his heel and took a pink towel from the other side of the room. He sat on the pink futon and began to towel his head.
Tino laid back down on his comfy bed, but not before pushing the vitamin and aspirin off the side of his mattress.
Berwald heard the clattering of pills, but decided he'd done enough.
He finished toweling his hair dry and then checked on his wife. Tino was glaring at him sleepily. It was cute. Berwald smiled and Tino returned the greeting by sticking out his tongue and rolling around to face the wall.
Berwald frowned. He realized a few minutes later that he was sulking. After all, Tino had poured water on his head.
Then he realized something. Something that made total, complete sense. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
His wife was not a morning person.
What if Berwald had accidently woken Tino up? After all, it was around seven thirty. Perhaps Tino was unaccustomed to the early hours of the day. That would explain Tino's aggressive behavior. Berwald was simply the easiest outlet for venting his early morning frustrations.
Berwald was a man. He could take that kind of pounding. If Tino was pissy first thing in the morning, so be it. Berwald would go out of his way to make Tino's mornings the most wonderful time of his day. Tino would be pleased.
But where to find advice? Berwald recognized that his education on certain social matters was usually lacking. He wouldn't allow that lack of knowledge to dampen Tino's mornings.
Amazingly, Feliks seemed to have books and books on the subject of pleasing your man.
Berwald picked up the literature with interest. It looked like it would have some very valuable articles.
Tino dozed off for awhile, and he woke up to an instant realization.
He sat up straight in bed and glared down at Berwald.
Berwald was still on the futon, towel curled around his neck. He was absorbed in Feliks' issue of Cosmopolitan.
"Berwald." Tino ground out. "Why. The. Fuck. Are. My. Clothes. Different?"
"Oh. That."
"Yes fucking that!" Tino screeched. "Did you touch me while I was sleeping?"
"Yes." Berwald admitted unabashedly. "You were uncomfortable."
"So? So? You don't fucking… fuck!"
Berwald decided that such an incoherent statement did not deserve a response.
"You don't fuck with sleeping people! I mean, not like fucking fuck but you don't fucking mess with sleeping people!" Tino explained heatedly. "You are so fucking creepy!"
"Mm." Berwald continued with his article, How to Make Morning Sex Extra Hot.
"You changed my fucking underwear!" Tino hissed. "You're a fucking pervert!"
Berwald blinked at the accusation, but didn't look up from the article. "You asked me to."
Tino froze. "I did not."
"Did."
"Did not."
"Did."
"DID NOT!"
"Said it was uncomfortable. You wanted to take it all off."
Tino blushed as the memory rolled through his head. "Okay, maybe I did."
"Nothing a guy hasn't seen before." Berwald continued.
"You took off my underwear." Tino whispered, face becoming pale. "You've seen me naked…!"
"Why did your underwear have no back?"
"A man thong." Tino's pale face flushed deep red. "It covers everything but still has no butt."
"I see."
"I blame Feliks! It's his fault. He coerced me!"
"Mm."
"I still can't believe you've seen me naked." Tino groaned. "This is the worst day of my life."
"If you want," Berwald flipped a page nonchalantly, "I'll strip so you can see me naked and we'll be even."
Tino blinked. Berwald raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Tino tossed his pillow at him. "NO."
The two sat in silence for a few moments, Tino blushing furiously and Berwald very amused.
"Berwald."
"Wife?"
"Not your fucking—hell. I'm just going to ignore it." Tino took a deep breath in an attempt to relax. "Just wanted to tell you to leave now."
"Hmm?"
"You know." Tino gestured at the door. "I'm awake and okay and I don't need you here anymore."
Tino was completely surprised to see Berwald smile.
"Okay, wife. Have a nice morning. Can I bring you breakfast?"
"Um, I'm not hungry right now." Tino replied, eyeing Berwald curiously. He hadn't expected it to be so easy. "But thanks."
Berwald nodded at his wife and then left room 311. Tino watched him go, slightly bewildered.
What Tino didn't know was that Berwald was an excellent listener. He walked back down the hallway towards his room with a very small smile on his face.
I don't need you anymore, Tino had said. Anymore. As in, Berwald had made the right decision to stay the night before. Tino must have subconsciously recognized that or he never would have said such a thing.
Such a very small thing that would keep Berwald's spirits lifted for an entire day if not week.
He would win over Tino yet!
A/N: Short, but I promised myself I'd post something by today. It's been a ridiculously long time. It was harder to get myself to sit down to write than it was just to write.
Italy was fantastic. Beautiful. Loved it. Now I want to go to Helsinki for a semester (for reasons beyond Hetalia, thank you!) so if you have any advice please let me know.
Thank you thank you to everyone that reviewed while I was gone! I loved coming back and reading all the love. Thanks for the support! I've decided to let review responses go for chapter 6, but they will begin again for this chapter. I wanted to get this chapter out more than I wanted to reply!
A quick note: Denmark's name will stay the same until he gets an official one. He's not a big character (sorry) and if he is mentioned it will be as Mikkel from now on anyway. Thanks for the info though!
