[Summary from the last chapter: Alice Kirkland has attracted the attentions of American football star, Alfred F. Jones, and French heart-breaker, Francis Bonnefoy. Lovina finally agreed to go on a date with Spanish foreign exhange student, Antonio Carriedo, which surprisingly ends on a good note. Gilbert, on the other hand, is having piss poor luck with Lovina's best friend, Madeline Williams. On a date to Starbucks, Gilbert starts a fight with Ivan Braginski, another suitor determined to win Madeline's heart; when the Canadian tried to intervene in their rough housing, Gilbert accidentally punched her in the face. Smooth move, Gilbert.]
Today had not been a good day for Alfred Freedom Jones.
First, his tomcat Glory had taken a piss on his most expensive pair of American Eagle ("Hahaha, the most heroic store ever!") tennis shoes. Then, he had to deal with a perverted Frenchman running his filthy hands all over his year-long crush, Alice Kirkland. And now, he was busy pacing the living room floor as his little sister clutched a bag of frozen tater tots to the purple bruise blossoming across her chin.
"Dammit, Maddie! Whose ass am I kicking tonight?" he demanded over the roar of a hockey game blaring on TV. Madeline shifted slightly to lay on her back, refusing to meet her brother's eyes as she sighed.
"Forget about it, Alamo," she replied dismissively, using a nickname she'd come up with when the two would play cowboys and Indians as children-she had always been Tiny Polar Bear, an Indian, while Alfred had been Little Alamo, a [heroic] Texan cowboy. Needless to say, Alfred got a little too into character. "And don't tell Lovina!"
Alfred didn't have time to respond because his phone was suddenly blaring the British National Anthem, meaning-
"Alice!" Alfred boomed after a moment of fumbling with his cell, bad mood dissipating as a goofy grin crossed his face. "What's up?" He turned to Madeline for a moment with a pointed look that clearly read, "This conversation isn't over," before he returned to the Brit on the other line. The Canadian exhaled in relief.
As Alfred slipped on his favorite leather bomber's jacket, Madeline decided to check her phone only to see it swarming with texts and missed calls, the majority of which were from a remorseful Gilbert.
Oh my, the blonde thought, feeling exceedingly guilty at having unintentionally ignored the Prussian's desperate apologies. Deciding to end the poor fellow's misery, Madeline was about to call him back when the doorbell suddenly rang. With Alfred gone, the couch-ridden Canadian had no choice but to drag herself from her supine position to the door. Upon opening it, a large sunflower was shoved into her face by a cute, twelve-year old with twin brunette pigtails splayed across her flat chest. She wore a flowing blue sundress and an impish grin that nearly challenged Alfred's own beaming smile. Madeline faintly remembered the girl sweeping out the flower shop Bella used to work at with her older brother, Lars.
"Hello, my name is Michelle!" the girl boasted with an unusual accent, rocking back and forth on her bare feet. "I'm delivering this to a Miss Madeline Williams!" The blonde flushed a thousand shades of red, tentatively grasping the flower's stem as the brunette before her turned on her heel and dashed off.
"Wait, who is this from?" the Canadian quietly cried, stepping forward only to have a small card flutter down from the red bow wrapped around the stem's girth.
'Hope you feel better, da?' it read, causing the girl to flush deeper.
Parked a few houses away, a Prussian seethed from behind the steering wheel of his Mercedes Benz, a bouquet of Lillies crushed in his steely grip. After a pissed Francis (Frenchman apparently did not take well to having their cousins punched in the face) had finished yanking the Prussian's hair like some primped up feral kitten, he had practically tossed Gilbert's sorry ass into the nearest flower shop, demanding that the albino spend at least forty dollars on a handful of roses ("The flowers of amor, oui?" he had said, which caused Gilbert to promptly splutter like a baffoon and toss the roses aside in embarrassment). Gilbert had been staring at the Jones-Williams house for approximately thirty minutes now, trying to work up the nerve to get out of his car as he anxiously checked his phone for any response from Madeline. But, dammit all, the damn Communist had beaten him to the punch (at this train of thought, Gilbert winced, unable to hear the word punch without feeling incessantly guilty).
Suddenly, Michelle, the girl from Seychelles who helped out around the flower shop, knocked Gilbert from his murderous daydreams of strangling a certain Russian with his own scarf.
"What are you doing?" the brunette piped, resting her chin on Gilbert's rolled down window as she stared at him and the flowers being mercilessly strangled in his pale fingers. The Prussian nearly punched the girl in fright (he had very violent reflexes if his disastrous date at Starbucks was anything to go by), and couldn't help but duck down in his seat. Madeline was glancing worriedly from her stoop, wondering who on earth Michelle was talking to in the car parked suspiciously on the side of the road.
"Go away, kid! She's looking over here!" Gilbert hissed, wondering on what level of creepy it was to watch a girl's house for half an hour. The girl, in turn, leaned in closer, pointedly glancing at Madeline, who looked about ready to intervene in the worrisome transaction (what if some stranger was trying to lure Michelle in with candy?), and back at the albino slumped low in his seat.
"Get out of here!" he shouted again, making frantic shooing motions with his hand as Madeline quickly descended the steps. Michelle only grabbed onto the window sill tighter, leaning into the car with childish intrigue as Gilbert tried to push her off his Benz; he had half a mind to drive away with the girl still clinging to his door. As soon as Maddie saw a stranger's hand reach towards the child, she broke into a jog.
"Hey, Michelle! What's going on?" she shouted in a breathy voice, worried a kidnapping was about to transpire before her very eyes. The albino began cursing in the front seat, knowing he was completely and utterly fucked. Michelle, with her thick red ribbons bouncing on her clavicles, turned and waved at the fastly approaching Canadian, whose face was scrunched up in concern. As she reached the car, wrapping one motherly arm around Michelle's waist as she plucked the brunette from the wndow, Madeline peered in expecting to find some sweaty, middle-aged pedophile clad with a baseball cap and mustache holding out some lollipops. Instead, she met the frightened red gaze of an attractive, teenaged admirer who looked an awful lot like...
"Gilbert?"
-line-
Francis could not breathe. He really couldn't.
Gilbert was curled into a pitiful ball in Antonio's basement, his burning face pressed into his knees as he muttered something about little girls from Seychelles being "unawesome". His two best friends were currently doubled over in a fit of side-splitting laughter, tears of mirth pooling at the corners of their eyes as they could only imagine the Prussian's mortification.
"Oh, mon ami!" Francis gasped between barks of laughter, his hand pushing luscious blonde locks from his face. "She thinks you are a pedophile? Mon dieu, this is priceless! What did she say?"
The albino groaned, burying his face further into his knees as the tips of his ears turned pink. "She gave me this blank look for a minute and then broke down laughing! Can we please just practice the song?"
"It hurts! Me duele tan mucho!"Antonio shouted from his position face-down on the floor, buckling his knees as if any minute he might piss himself. "Ay, lo siento, Gilberto."
Francis, who had calmed down considerably, chuckled one last time before muttering in a more serious voice, "Oui, there are more pressing matters at hand. For instance, did you hear that Elizabeta and Roderich broke up?"
At the sound of his ex's name, Gilbert's ears perked up. "Liz broke up with him?" he asked, earning a frown from Francis.
"As far as I know, yes. And that cute girl Mei said Liz has been asking for you, no doubt to get back together." The Frenchman cast a dark gaze at the interested Prussian. "But you have your heart set on Madeline, correct?"
Gilbert hesitated a moment, before nodding vigorously. "Ja, of course! I don't give up that easily!" But something in his voice hinted otherwise.
The albino had always been madly in love with the Hungarian, having his heart crushed multiple times as Elizabeta jumped between him and Roderich in a series of half-hearted relationships. Even when they were together she made him miserable. A true vixen she was, wielding a frying pan that was no stranger to Gilbert's face and luring boys in with forest green eyes and a painfully sweet smile. Madeline had been the first girl the albino had taken a serious interest in since Elizabeta, and, frankly, the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio found the Canadian much more refreshing. Maddie was angelic with her light blonde hair looping towards her shoulder blades and clear, nearly, translucent skin; she was rather short with violet doe eyes that were brimming with timidity. Elizabeta, on the other hand, was a temptress in the making, her deep brown hair cascading in wild waves down to her waist, chartreuse eyes narrowed in a sultry gaze accentuated by a smudge of smokey eye shadow. Her breasts, fairly large if one was to be modest, were pressed snugly together in the bustiers she wore beneath all of her dresses, and if one were to pay careful attention, he would see them jiggle every time she tossed her hair over one slim shoulder. Much to the envy of many girls, the Hungarian's tiny waist led to curvacious hips, rounded thighs, and mile-long legs which she usually decked in dirt-brown boots; to add salt to injury, she wore painfully tight skirts that made her hourglass figure more pronounced. Altogether, Elizabeta was very much sex on legs.
Gilbert had grown up with Liz practically since infancy, their violent natures attracting each other throughout adolescence. When they started dating, however, Gil's jealousy coupled with Elizabeta's constant need to advertise her body and flirt with random boys led to nonstop squabbling. The albino was used to frying pans to the head just as the Hungarian was accustomed to her boyfriend's dirty mouth. Things boiled to a climax when Gilbert, searching for his partner during the Spring Dance the year before, found her in the library pressed against the bookshelves by a familiar Austrian pianist. Let's just say, the relationship did not last much longer. Ever since then, their status as a couple fluctuated on and off, usually depending on Elizabeta's preference that month.
Gilbert stood then, sighing. He grabbed a guitar and began strumming a tune that Francis irrately recognized as the song written for Elizabeta during Gilbert's junior year. The Frenchman knew then that little Madeline indeed had some competition for a heart still partially loyal to its previous owner. "I just need to blow off steam, Franny," Gilbert assured the glowering Parisian, strapping his guitar in place. [A/N: Look up Schrei Nach Liebe by die Arzte]:
"Du bist wirklich saudumm (You are really dumb)
darum geht's dir gut. (Which is why you're doing so well.)
Hass ist deine Attitüde, (Hate is your attitude,)
ständig kocht dein Blut. (your blood boils constantly.)
Alles muss man dir erklären, (Everything needs to be explained to you,)
weil du wirklich gar nichts weißt. (because you don't really know anything.)
Höchstwahrscheinlich nicht einmal was Attitüde heißt! (Most likely not even what attitude means!)
Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe, (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)
deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit. (your combat boots long for tenderness.)
Du hast nie gelernt dich zu artikulieren, (You have never learned to express yourself,)
und deine Eltern hatten niemals für dich Zeit. (and your parents never had time for you.)
Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch! (Oh-oh-ho, asshole!)
Warum hast du Angst vorm Streicheln, (Why do you have a fear of carressing,)
was soll all der Terz? (what is the meaning of all this nonsense?)
Unterm Lorbeerkranz mit Eicheln, (Under the laurel wreath with acorns,)
weiß ich, schlägt ein Herz. (I know your heart beats.)
Und Romantik ist für dich nicht bloß graue Theorie. (And romanticism is not only a grey theory for you,)
Zwischen Störkraft und den Onkelz (between Störkraft and den Onkelz*) *Neo-Nazi inspiration bands
steht 'ne Kuschelrock LP. (is a soft rock LP.)
Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe, (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)
deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit. (your combat boots long for tenderness.)
Du hast nie gelernt dich zu artikulieren, (You have never learned to express yourself,)
und deine Eltern hatten niemals für dich Zeit. (and your parents never had time for you.)
Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch! (Oh-oh-ho, asshole!)
Weil du Probleme hast die keinen intressieren, (Because you have problems that interest nobody,)
weil du Schiss vorm Schmusen hast bist du ein Faschist. (because you have a fear of cuddling you are a Fascist.)
Du musst deinen Selbsthass nicht auf andere projezieren, (You mustn't project your self-hate on others,)
damit keiner merkt was für ein lieber Kerl du bist. (so nobody knows what a lovely person you are.)
Deine Gewalt ist nur ein stummer Schrei nach Liebe, (Your violence is only a silent cry for love,)
deine Springerstiefel sehnen sich nach Zärtlichkeit. (your combat boots long for tenderness.)
Du hast nie gelernt dich artizukulieren, (You have never learned to express yourself,)
und deine Freundin die hat niemals für dich Zeit. (And your lover never has time for you.)
Oh-oh-ho, Arschloch! Arschloch! Arschloch! (Oh-oh-ho, asshole! Asshole! Asshole!)"
After the song, which Gilbert had played thousands of times before, Francis again wondered if the song was about Elizabeta or Gilbert himself.
-line-
Madeline was adjusting the Lillies in a vase beside the large sunflower sprawled across the counter. She had pretty much laughed all the way home after finding Gilbert blushing in his car and was now mulling about the kitchen in search of sweets with a dorky grin plastered to her face. Gilbert's expression had been priceless! As the Canadian pulled out the ingredients to make some pineapple upside down cake, she heard a dying car pull into the driveway outside. Wiping her hands off on the back of her jeans, Madeline hurried to the door, checking her chin in a nearby mirror one last time to see if the makeup had properly disguised the horrible bruise. Satisfied, she wrenched open the door to see Alice and both Vargas sisters waiting impatiently.
"It's about time you guys showed up! The game starts in twenty minutes!" Madeline berrated her friends as they trudged inside, save for Feliciana who bounced across the threshold and into the kitchen.
"We haven't missed it yet?" Alice groaned out, hoping to avoid another eventful evening of hockey-watching and the accompanying headache. Not that watching TV was a bad thing, it's just that watching hockey with an avid Canadian equipped with a wooden hockey stick is a severe risk to one's physical help. Ask Alfred; he had borne the brunt of Madeline's fury many times previous.
"Ve~Madeline, what are you making? Can I make pasta?" the Italian from the kitchen pleaded, her auburn head poking through the doorway as one curl defied gravity. Before Madeline could respond, Alfred burst through the door soaking wet.
"Alice, what the hell?" he heaved, out of breath as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. "You ran off without telling me!"
"Why the hell are you wet, Hamburger Bastard?" Lovina asked unimpressed, one eyebrow raised. At this, Alice scoffed and rolled her mossy eyes.
"I dared the blasted idiot to jump in my neighbor's swimming pool and then Lovina texted me saying she was outside my house and we were headed over here. So I left." the Briton answered simply, causing Alfred to groan.
"You didn't just dare me," he explained as if Alice had missed the most important piece of the story. "You triple dog dared me! That's serious!" The three girls turned away from the idiot before them while Feliciana pat the American on his sopping back.
"It's okay, Alfredo~! I'll make you some pasta and you'll feel alot better! I always make Luddy pasta and he says it's delicious, and that's coming from a taste-deprived German!" she jabbered, guiding Alfred, who was sporting his kicked puppy expression, into the kitchen. When it was him and Feliciana alone in the kitchen, an ingenious idea popped into his head.
"Hey, Feli? Isn't Lovina dating Antonio now?" he asked innocently as Feliciana began boiling the water. She pursed her lips and hummed in thought.
"Thy went on a date, but sorella never mentioned dating Antonio," she replied, which was enough for Alfred to set his plan into motion. Searching the kitchen for his phone which he had thankfully not been carrying when he jumped into the pool, Alfred quickly logged on to his mobile Facebook account, snickering beneath his breath as he quickly submitted a new status.
Alfred Hero Jones Sleepover in the next room ;D with Lovina Vargas, Feliciana Vargas, Alice Kirkland, and Madeline Williams
10 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Comment · Like · Lars V. and 8 others like this
Antonio F. Carriedo don't you dare touch lovina.
9 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like
Alfred Hero Jones and if she touches me first? ;D
8 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like
Antonio F. Carriedo where the hell do you live jones.
8 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like
Alfred Hero Jones not tellinggggg
7 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like
Gilbert Beilschmidt 2319 Lost Lake Drive
6 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like · Antonio F. Carriedo and Francis Bonnefoy like this
Francis Bonnefoy Ready or not, here we come mon cher;)
4 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like
Alfred Hero Jones ...shit
2 minutes ago via Mobile Web · Like · 10 people like this
[A/N: haha so the Bad Touch Trio are about to crash an all girls sleepover ;) make sure to review lovely readers!]