AN: In which Gilbert bullshits his way through Spanish.
THE PERKS OF BALCONING
2. Like An Angel Passing Through My Room (ABBA)
"So… Are we ever going to talk about it?"
"About what?"
"Oh, I don't know… Your incredibly obvious crush on Antonio, maybe?"
Arthur put down the magazine he was reading and glared at Gilbert, who was zapping through the TV channels, trying to find something worth watching. "I don't have a crush on anyone," he stated.
"Yes, and I'm the Queen of England."
For a brief moment, the picture of the eccentric German in place of his beloved Elizabeth crossed Arthur's mind. It was a brief moment of sheer horror.
"Come on, Artie," Gilbert insisted. "You're only trying to fool yourself here."
Arthur groaned and looked away. He really didn't want to admit it — telling Gilbert he was right? Never! — but he had, indeed, developed a teeny-tiny crush on the handsome doctor. A crush that made him act like a bumbling idiot whenever he was around. That alone was mortifying, and adding to it the embarrassment of their two first meetings…
Let's just say, Arthur was trying not to think too much about the whole thing because he knew there was no way Antonio would ever be interested in him.
~{§}~
"I'm not interested in him."
"Yeah, sure." Francis emptied a second sugar packet on his cup and stirred the coffee with delicate circular motions.
"I mean it," Antonio protested as he unwrapped a candy bar. (It was a well-known fact among the hospital staff that caffeine turned Dr Fernández into an unstoppable mess. Everyone was grateful he relied on sugar whenever he needed a boost.)
"You mean to tell me you've never once thought he's cute?" Francis asked, a knowing glint in his blue eyes. Antonio narrowed his eyes at him in a deadly glare, but his silence was all the answer Francis needed. He smiled in victory. "Ah, more than once, I'd say."
"Maybe I've thought he's cute; so what? That doesn't mean anything. I think you're cute."
"Awe, thanks!" Francis chirped. "But flattery won't save you, dear. We're dealing with love here!"
"Oh my God you crazy Frenchman," Antonio groaned, running a hand through his hair in despair. "Love? Seriously? It's just a crush!"
"So you admit it!" Francis exclaimed in triumph.
Antonio opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to retort anything clever.
Eventually, he settled for giving Francis the middle finger.
~{§}~
Not for the first time, Arthur wondered who had left Gilbert in charge of the TV remote. He really wanted to walk over to his roommate's bed, snatch the remote back from him, and change that stupid program he was being forced to watch.
Alas, that's a difficult task to accomplish with a broken leg.
"What on this bloody Earth are we watching?" he whined when he couldn't take it anymore.
"It's a very popular Spanish cultural program," Gilbert answered.
Arthur glanced at the TV, where people with more plastic than meat in their faces were yelling at each other from expensive couches in a hideous set. He sure hoped the German was mistaken.
"It's called Sálvame," Gilbert went on. "Means Salami," he added proudly.
That didn't sound quite right.
"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked, surprised that the topic hadn't come up before.
"Oh yes! I started learning in high-school. Haven't practiced in a while, but I still remember the basics. Do you speak any language besides English?"
"Afraid not," Arthur admitted. "I gave a try at Spanish once, but sadly languages are not my forte."
Gilbert made a pondering noise. "I think Antonio would appreciate it if you spoke a little Spanish to him," he said after a moment. "Even if it's just a couple words."
"You think?"
"Yes! Spaniards love it when foreigners give it a try at their language!"
Well, Arthur mused, surely if he spoke Spanish fluently his chances with Antonio would improve greatlyHE HAD NOT JUST THOUGHT THAT. He didn't want to bother learning Spanish (a hellish language, that's what it was) and, most importantly, he did not want to impress his goddamn Greek God of a doctor.
"I only remember like hello, goodbye and that stuff," he tried to excuse himself. "It won't work—wouldn't work even if I wanted to which I totally don't."
"Yeah, okay."
"Seriously."
"Uh huh."
"You're going to annoy me into doing it, right?"
"Yup."
"Brilliant," Arthur grumbled. "I'm not going to just say 'Ola to him, though, that's just lame."
"You can tell him that you're alright when he comes check on you," Gilbert suggested.
"I'm alright," Arthur repeated, thoughtful. That was a simple phrase, he might be able to come up with it himself. "That'd be… Yo estoy bueno, yes?"
Gilbert paused for a moment. Yo estoy bueno. Yeah, that seemed about right.
He gave Arthur a thumbs-up.
~{§}~
"I can't believe you're watching this," were Antonio's first words when he walked in room 314.
"I'm learning about you culture," Gilbert replied.
"Culture? With Sálvame? Wow."
"You'll lose braincells just by listening to those people, Gil," Francis snickered.
"That's not—hey!" he protested when Antonio snatched the remote from his hand and changed the channel into a plain and boring news report.
"I'm doing this for your own good," Antonio lectured like a parent, waving the remote out of Gilbert's reach. "Now be a good boy and let Francis give you your drugs."
Sulking, the German did as told.
"Okay…" Antonio sighed, leaving the remote on Arthur's nightstand. "I hope you'll be more responsible with this than him."
"Oh, um, yes, I will," Arthur blabbered.
"How's the leg today? Does it hurt?"
"No." He smiled nervously, and then he added: "Yo estoy bueno."
Antonio blinked slowly, thinking he must've misheard. "I'm sorry?"
"I-I said yo estoy bueno," Arthur repeated, painfully aware of not only Antonio's, but now also Francis and Gilbert's gazes on him.
"He means he's fine," Gilbert interjected.
Silence engulfed them. Antonio and Francis shared a look.
"No, sweetheart, that's not what you said," the nurse informed, trying not to burst out laughing.
Arthur paled and looked at Antonio for confirmation. He shook his head.
"You said you're hot. But hot as in good-looking," he explained.
Arthur paled even paler, and Antonio had to look away lest he laughed at his disgrace at his face.
His gaze landed on the TV, where the news report showed an interesting headline: British woman at Benidorm complains that her vacations were ruined by too many Spaniards.
"… you Brits are one curious folk."
Arthur dropped his hands over his face.
Maybe if he shut his eyes very, very tightly, a brain artery would pop and he'd die.
~{§}~
"I swear I'm normal."
Antonio stopped whatever he was doing on his leg and glanced at him. "I never doubted that," he smiled, although there was a somewhat sarcastic glint in his eyes.
Arthur blushed red. "I'm just terrible at first impressions."
"And seconds, and thirds…" Antonio snickered.
Arthur blushed redder.
"What he'll eventually get to is asking if you'll go out with him," Gilbert called from his bed. His sunburnt face was covered on a yellowish paste; his grey hair was pushed off his face and kept in place with pink hairclips. He looked quite ridiculous.
"Is that so?" Antonio asked, amused.
Arthur blushed the reddest and swore he was going to murder Gilbert with his bare hands.
"Well," Antonio started, "I'm sorry to say it like this, but I don't date—"
"Men?" Arthur interrupted, a hopeful tone in his voice. It'd be a true shame if Antonio were only into women, but at least that would close the debate once and for all.
No way in Hell Arthur would be so lucky.
"I do date men," Antonio admitted easily. "What I don't date is—"
"Patients?" Arthur interrupted again.
"There's nothing against doctor-slash-patient relationships in the hospital's inner regulations," Francis helpfully interjected.
Antonio glared at him. "As a matter of fact, I don't date patients. Personal reasons." He made a pause. "But that's not what I was going to say."
"Then?" Arthur asked curiously. "What is it that you don't date?"
Antonio smiled again, and this time the malicious flash in his eyes was clear.
"I don't date idiots who jump off balconies."
AN: Don't worry, Artie, you still have a chance :D
The program Sálvame (which translates to "save me", NOT "salami") is the worst of Spanish TV. Legit. It's famous people (but famous as in "I once had sex with a bullfighter") with little manners and less culture who only yell at each other and make money thanks to that.
And remember, kids:
Estar bien = to be fine
Estar bueno = to be hot
