"Now, remember, you have to take your pills, okay? Going off them cold turkey is-"

Arthur was in mother hen mode again. Francis wasn't much better, but at least he didn't treat Matt like he couldn't fetch his own cup of water.

"I know. I'm fine, Arthur. The withdrawal symptoms stopped days ago."

Arthur frowned. "Are you sure-"

"Oh, he's fine now!" Francis snapped, obviously tired of hearing Arthur's fretting. "He just needs to get out a little and enjoy himself!"

"Well, aren't you a giant hypocrite! Who was the one being a drama queen a few days ago, acting like the boy was dying-"

"Don't. fight!"

That shut the both of them up. "Honestly! Both of you, I'm fine now. There's no point in staying here in bed and wasting away."

"See! Matthew agrees-!" Francis cackled triumphantly even as Arthur got that look of murder in his eyes.

Tabernak, they could be such children. "Francis, don't wind Arthur up, you're both as bad as each other!" He ignored twin sounds of protest. "Look, thank you for taking care of me, but I'm alright now. And I should let you have your bed back Arthur, thank you for letting me stay under your roof."

Arthur coughed and looked away, embarrassed. "Not a problem, Matthew, you're welcome here any time. Stay as long as you like."

He rolled his eyes. For all Arthur's posturing about being an unfettered English gentleman who had no need for such silly emotions as being touched ('Of course not, it's unsightly!'), it was clear as day that Arthur was the sort of idiot who only repressed and hid them under the little façade he had going.

Arthur was damn well touched by Matt's thanks, and he'd be damned if the stubborn man would ever admit it.

Francis popped up besides Matt like a particularly sneaky meerkat. His father figures would be the death of him, Matt swore.

"Then…you should come out to the clubs with me, Matthew!" Francis urged, clearly intent on the idea now that it was in his head. "No more moping about here with this old man-" ("Oi! I'm actually younger than you, you twat!") "-But come have fun with me and a few friends at my friend's club. You'll like it, I promise, it's an LGBBQ club, you can pick up a sexy man of your own, no?"

Matt gave a very manly giggle. Arthur snorted, but seemed to be reassured as he left them to their own devices (Arthur had very little tolerance for Francis' flirtatious ways). Shuddup, he was super manly. Matt couldn't see Arthur at a club, anyway. He seemed like the kind of guy to be suspicious of anyone in leather as 'one of those young delinquent punk chavs' or whatever it was he called them.

"…Francis, I don't think it's LGBBQ, I'm pretty sure gay and lesbian barbeque won't be involved." Matt said, smiling.

Francis blinked, and gave a classic French shrug. "LGBBQ, LGBQQ, you know what I mean, no? Too complicated!" Francis complained even as he grinned at Matt's laughter. "They keep changing it, I think they're only doing it confuse me!"

"I'm pretty sure it's just because they want to be inclusive, Francis." Matt said, smothering his stupidly big smile.

"Anyway, you should come, Matthew, it will be good for you!" Francis proclaimed, waggling his eyebrows in a way that had always made Matt laugh.

The manipulative bastard. He knew Matt couldn't say no when he made Matt laugh like that. And Francis' stupid pout was SUPER EFFECTIVE and MATT took 9999 damage to his little black heart.

MATT was defeated! MATT was also a giant dorky idiot who always managed to get himself into these sorts of things!

"…Fine-"

Matt regretted everything at the look in Francis' eyes.

Francis had questionable taste in friends.

Antonio 'Toni' Carriedo seemed the most normal of them, if a bit…ditzy? Okay, that was a bit mean. The Spaniard was a friendly as a Labrador. (Matt stubbornly refused to think of another guy he'd met who'd also reminded him of a friendly puppy.)

Then other one, well. Matt wasn't sure if that one the youngest looking sixty year old he'd ever seen or just a crazy young guy who wanted to look older by dying his hair silver to offset his immaturity. Because the way he was cackling evilly with that German accent about how awesome he was for all to hear...wasn't quite…normal. Although Matt wasn't exactly one to judge people on how normal they were.

And then there was the serious blond businessman in the suit, who Matt had been confused to see. With his hair slicked back like that and the tasteful clothes, he just didn't seem like the type to be one of Francis' friends.

Unless the guy was a rich businessman client.

Okay, Francis had never actually said anything about whether he did that sort of thing, but it wasn't like Francis disliked money or sex. In which case, ew, papa, you may not actually be my papa, but I don't need to meet your clients this better not be some weird misguided orgy-

"Hey, West, you showed up!" The silver haired guy suddenly shouted as he noticed the blond businessman.

"Gilbert." The blond (Was that another german accent?) businessman stated, addressing the weird maybe old (?) guy. "Why have you brought me to meet your friends?"

Gilbert, the weird maybe-old-guy gave the weirdest laugh Matt had ever heard. "Kesesesesese! Because Francis thinks he needs to help his nephew get laid-"

Even the tips of Matt's ears flushed scarlet as Gilbert flashed a knowing smirk his way.

"-And I thought, why not bring you along too? Cuz you may be my little brother, but I still don't know how you managed to miss the lady-killing and man-eating genes in our blood."

"Gilbert!" Mr Businessman protested, looking back and forth between Matt staring at them and Gilbert who seemed to take pride in getting a rise out the guy. The poor guy seemed as embarrassed as Matt felt. With a brother like that, no wonder.

Mr Businessman gave a long suffering sigh, ignoring his brother as he strode towards Matt.

"I-I'm sorry!" Matt rushed to say. "I didn't mean to listen in on you, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so rude!"

Mr Businessman blinked, but gave a tiny yet genuine smile. "Ah," he said. "It's my brother's fault for being so loud and using English. If he had truly meant to keep our conversation private, he would have used German. He only likes to do it to embarrass me."

"O-oh, I see." Francis did the same thing. No wonder they were friends. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name. West, was it?"

The other blond shook his head. "Oh, no. My brother just likes to call me that. Ludwig Beilschmidt, and my older brother is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Oh, uh, Matthew Williams, Matt for short." Matt must have looked surprised, because Ludwig took one look at his face and continued. "Yes, he does act like a child at times, doesn't he? Thirty-five and he still doesn't know what to do with his life." Ludwig said disapprovingly.

Thirty-five? Matt was only twenty-three.

He had never felt more like a little kid pretending like he knew how to be an adult than now. Like he wasn't meant to be here with the actual adults, and that he'd be discovered as a fraud.

"Sorry kiddo," they'd say. "It's time to go back to middle school."

Ludwig seemed pretty perceptive, as he eyed the look on Matt's face. "Are you also worried about going to this club?" he asked, surprisingly concerned.

Go with it.

"Y-yeah, a bit." Matt whispered. "Sorry, it's just, I know Francis and with what I've seen of his friends I think I probably should be worried about the sort of things they have planned for us. No offense to your brother!" he added.

Ludwig looked thoughtful. "Yes, they do seem the type, that is true. But I don't think you have cause to worry, Matthew. Despite their antics, they know when to stop and what is too much. They are good people at heart."

Well. That was true enough of Francis. He'd just have to take the guy's word.

…Was that a black limo pulling up beside them? Where the hell did the-

No, Matt really didn't want to know.

"Kesesesese! West, are you done boring Francis' brat? We gotta go!" Gilbert shouted over the blaring rock music from the passenger seat as he got out to meet them.

Ludwig immediately pursed his lips and Matt felt a need to defend the guy who'd been nothing but polite to him. Passive-aggressive dial to 11!

"Well, excuse us. Sorry to keep you waiting, but me and Ludwig were having a nice chat together. He seems like such a nice guy, I'm surprised to see how different you guys are." Matt commented sweetly.

Gilbert blinked, hesitant, like he was unsure of whether Matt actually meant to insult him. "Er- apology accepted, I guess?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh, yeah! The Awesome Gilbert, today's chauffeur at your service!" Gilbert said, giving a tiny theatrical bow as he winked, holding his hand out for Matt to shake.

Matt considered keeping up the passive-aggressive thing but there was a reason he'd always been called the peacekeeper of the family. That, and the guy just seemed genuine.

Matt sighed internally.

He took the guy's hand even as he shook his head, smiling. "Matt. Matthew Williams."

Gilbert leapt up and opened the limo door for them in a single fluid movement. "Kesesesesese! Well, little birdy, I can tell we're going to be good friends!

What had he gotten himself into? Matt wondered as he followed Ludwig into the back.

"You didn't have to do that earlier, but thank you."

Do what? Matt blinked confusedly at the quieter German man as they exited the limo.

Seeing Matt's confusion, Ludwig clarified. "There was no need to defend me from my brother's comments, but it was appreciated, nevertheless."

"Oh!" Matt blushed. "He was being rude to you when you've been nothing but polite. I'd do the same for all my friends."

Ludwig seemed a little startled. "…Friends?"

Oh. That was a little embarrassing. "S-sorry, that was a bit presumptuous of me."

"Ah!-No, I only meant to say I was surprised. I'm not a very outgoing person, so forgive me if I seem unused to, er, this."

He hadn't expected the professional looking stoic businessman to be the shy type, but Matt could work with that. Matt had been known as a shrinking violet himself when he was a kid, and he still was at times. He smiled at the taller man. "You and me both," Matt told him self-deprecatingly.

…FRANCIS WAS A GODDAMN TRAITOR.

He'd left Matt at the bar to drink with Antonio as he went to chat up the owner or something. He hadn't really been able to hear Francis over the music. And poor Ludwig had been dragged off to who knows where by his brother.

Goodbye, Ludwig. Matt thought darkly. I barely knew you.

And while Antonio was a nice enough guy, he was also clearly staring at the cute twins on stage. Matt supposed they were pretty enough, but he'd heard them talking between themselves during a short break and one was swearing every other word and threatening violence on the next man to look at her. The other just made a strange "Veeeeeee!~" noise.

Yeah, not going to happen. With his luck they'd be a tag team of serial killers.

He barely noticed the burly looking man who slid up onto the stool next to him, with his…partner. Well, it was an LGBTQI+ club. It wasn't good to make assumptions. Still, whatever that person identified as with those curls made them look like a little lamb. So that was pretty damn cute.

Mr Muscles next to him glanced his way, eyes widening in recognition. "Hey, you're that Matt fellow, aren'tcha?" the guy noted with one of the strongest Australian accents Matt had ever heard. "Nice to finally meet ya."

…Matt was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd met the giant bear of an Australian before. Or the lamb-like cutie ordering drinks for them. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The bloke wrinkled up his nose in confusion before finally swearing about some "pommy bastard!" "Sorry, can't believe the old man. He tells us about you all the time, all 'I wish you'd be more well-mannered' and shit. Like he can talk, the fucking hypocrite! What, are we too shameful to brag about to others?" he complained.

…Wha-?

"…I have no idea what you're talking about," Matt admitted, baffled.

The man seemed to deflate, swearing up a storm. "Can't fuckin' believe it. Artie never told you about us?"

"…Artie?"

"Got my work cut out for me, do I?" Mr Muscles muttered. "Y'know, Artie. Arthur. Arthur Motherfucking doesn't tell people that his own goddamn kids exist Kirkland."

Wait, Arthur had kids?

"Wait, Arthur's not married and I didn't think he was the type to have kids out of wedlock?"

The Australian actually laughed in Matt's face. "Oh, you'd be surprised, then!" he grinned wickedly. "Got photo evidence to prove it. He pretends to be all stuffy, but he was just as wild as I am as a kid."

Matt might or might not be gaping, trying to picture it. "So you're a…?" He began, trying to figure out a way to word what he was thinking politely.

"Bastard son? Naaaaah, though he calls me a bastard all the time. We're adopted, me and the sheep-shagger." The guy said, pointing at his fluffy haired partner.

The person (wait, did that mean they were siblings? They fought like a married couple when they'd come in…) glared at the Australian. "I thunk you're mistaking me for yourself."

What the hell kind of accent was that? South African? Some strange unique Australian accent only found in the most isolated parts of the Australian outback?

"Are you both Australian, then?" Matt commented innocently.

From the way Mr Muscles ducked and the fluffy haired cutie hurtled towards him with the fury of a herd of a thousand angry sheep, Matt would guess no.

ABORT MISSION IMMEDIATELY his brain screamed.

This was why Matt never went to clubs. Even the sweet innocent looking ones tended to bruise.

"Sorry about det," evil fluffy cutie had said sheepishly. "He knows it drives me up the wall when people mistake me for an Aussie and I thought he'd put you up to this."

The Australian (and the New Zealander, it had turned out to be) had apologised profusely, but Matt had waved them off to track down that goddamn traitor Francis who'd put Matt into this position in the first place. Probably back with the rest of the group by now.

They were all in front of the twins, of course. Even Ludwig, surprisingly, though he was really very red when the girls hadn't really even done anything more provocative than dance.

"I think I'm in love!" Antonio sighed blissfully. "The feisty one keeps giving looks of love only to me!"

Francis snorted derisively. "Toni, she is glaring at you, not giving you 'looks of love."

"I think you should go for her, Toni! I mean, you're almost as awesome as I am. I bet you could sweep her off her feet if you just tried."

"You think? I-"

"Gogogo!" Francis said suddenly. "They're taking a break, catch her now!"

Matthew really, really didn't want to know why the group were suddenly intensely focused on shoving Antonio towards one of the dancers. He curled in a fetal position up in the empty corner seat next to Francis. Francis didn't seem to notice.

Goddammit. Matt knew the man tried, but sometimes Matt really hated him.

Oh, look, now Antonio really was approaching one of the dancers. And… Ludwig seemed to be eyeing the other dancer nervously. Huh. Well, good for him. Hopefully they really weren't tag team serial killers intent on making wurst of the poor man. And…whatever famous Spanish dish they were planning to turn Antonio into. Paella? That was a thing, right?

Annnnddddd now Antonio had a black eye. Matt would wonder what he'd said to the angry looking dancer shouting at him in Italian, but he had a feeling that the girl was like that already with how she'd been acting earlier.

He stole a sip of Francis' beer since Francis and Gilbert had both immediately run off to hold off the furious Italian spitting insults at Antonio.

Okay, at least Francis had been right about one thing. This night had been exciting, if not quite in the way Matt would have liked.

As Matt finished off Francis' beer (all my myselfffffff he sang quietly in his head) Francis eventually came back to check on him.

"Matthew, I'm sorry, I need to drive Toni home since he got a little beat up earlier."

"I saw."

Francis grimaced. "Good thing his modelling contract's over. Will you be okay to get home?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yess papa." He slurred.

Francis paused, frowning. "How drunk are you?"

"…Uhhh…drunky drunk? I did drink your beer. Sorry. Not like a skunk. I'm not a skunk. I'm a real boy."

Francis took a very deep breath in. Like he was going for a dive. But that was stupid, there wasn't any pool of water large enough for him to dive into close by. Though maybe if they got all the alcohol?

He vaguely noted the fact that he was being passed off to a pretty lady who looked like she worked there. "I'll be back to collect you, so be good, okay?" disembodied Francis voice said. "Elizabeta, don't you dare take advantage and take photos."

Roderich stared at the young blond man Elizabeta was carrying into the office, bridal style. Their joint owned club had just closed up, so all customers should have been kicked out by now. "Please don't tell me you've drugged a random man off the floor to have your way with him."

Elizabeta glared at her ex-husband (and still best friend, despite everything.) "I did not! Francis asked me to look after the little guy. I think they're related, so Francis would kill me, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow as he sat down at the piano at the end of the room. "Are you saying that if he weren't, you would have?"

"Don't twist my words around, Roderich." She muttered, annoyed, as she gently slid the guy (barely more than a boy, and light as a feather!) onto their sofa. "What are you doing playing now? You'll wake the poor guy!"

"So? So what if I wake him? He is none of my concern."

"Don't be inconsiderate, Roderich."

"In any case, I was only planning on playing a lullaby."

She narrowed her eyes at him, watching his fingers begin to dance over the keys.

Back straight and stiff as a rod, the supposed 'lullaby' turning jerkier than it was supposed to be, Elizabeta sighed at him.

He heard only a slight rustle behind him as she approached, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You're so silly, Roderich."

He frowned, not missing a note. "How so?"

She tilted her head into resting on his shoulder. "You're upset. You always play more stiffly when you're angry. I thought it was just a simple lullaby you were supposed to be playing, not Chopin?"

He hadn't noticed, which spoke of how distracted he was by her. "Perhaps." He admitted, even if he eased back into the lullaby he had intended to play.

Roderich could feel her turning her head towards him sharply. "Perhaps? No. Maybe the difference isn't noticeable to anyone else who just sees a brilliant pianist playing no matter what, but I know you. You're upset. Tell me."

His notes grew softer and more fluid. "I missed you. I know marriage would never have worked out for us," he added, pre-empting Elizabeta's reply. "But I can't help but feel jealous whenever I see you with someone else."

She pulled away. "You know I'll love you no matter who else I'll be with. But I can't- I don't want to be tied down anymore."

"I know."

He heard her moving around behind him, but didn't look up from his playing.

"Roderich," she said sadly. "I'm sorry. You've been so understanding."

Roderich's expression was just as serene as it had always been when he played. "It would have been hypocritical of me otherwise." He said, softly. "You were just as understanding when I told you I was a swinger. I remember you found it strange that I wanted to be in a committed emotional relationship with you while having sexual relations with other people."

She smiled wistfully, though Roderich was concentrated on his piano and didn't see. "Oh, I couldn't help that. For all people think that polyamory and swinging are the same thing, they're different enough that it was hard for me to truly understand."

Elizabeta swung herself unto the top of his piano before she continued. "And then you wanted a closed relationship, and how could I keep my love exclusive to only those I'm in a relationship in right now? It's not like I have a limited amount of love or that if I love someone else I would love you any less." She huffed out a sad noise. "But that wouldn't have been fair to you or me. I can't keep myself from loving people, but that would have only hurt you."

"I know, Elizabeta. You've explained your polygamy to me before."

"That's not the point I was trying to make. It's just when you look all sad like that I have to remind you or you'll start to blame yourself or something stupid like that."

He looked upwards at her with the intention of glaring at her and protesting that it wasn't stupid, but…

He stopped playing immediately.

"Elizabeta."

"Yeah?"

"Are you naked? On my piano?"

She stretched out lazily and cat-like before striking a pose. "Isn't it obvious?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you naked on my piano?"

"...Because I look super-hot like this."

"Elizabeta…"

She propped her head up onto her hand. "Am I not allowed to miss you, too?"

If Matt hadn't been sleeping like the dead he might have wondered why that fluent piano playing had stopped suddenly and been replaced with the dissonant sound of random keys accidentally being pressed.

As it was, he didn't hear a thing.