AN: I added the names of the artists of the songs next to the chapter titles. Just because.


THE PERKS OF BALCONING

4. Send Me An Angel (Scorpions)

The day had started quite nicely.

Early in the morning, a policeman had come to remove Gilbert's handcuff, which the German had celebrated by blasting hard rock from his phone until complaints from neighbouring rooms had forced him to lower the volume. Despite the outrageously loud music, Arthur found himself smiling at the German's cheerfulness.

He wasn't sure why, but he had ended up growing fond of Gilbert, his quirky attitude and limitless joy.

"I told y'all that little Luddy is the best lawyer ever!" Gilbert screamed in proud delight the moment Francis and Antonio walked through the door. "Look! Look at this!" He waved his hands in the air. "I am a free man!"

"Well, that's a relief," smiled Francis. "I was tired of having to uncuff and cuff you every time you needed to go to the toilet."

"Congrats, Gil," said Antonio. "You can now use your newly acquired freedom to go get some x-rays."

Arthur snickered at the way Gilbert frowned and muttered that his friends were dicks who didn't care about him and his happiness. Francis bickered in jest with him as he helped him into a wheelchair and rolled him away.

"What a pair of idiots…" Antonio sighed, shaking his head, but with a fond smile on his face.

"It's part of their charm," Arthur replied.

"Undoubtedly. You're going to the x-rays after Gil, by the way."

"Okay."

"You both are progressing nicely, so unless we notice anything unusual, you should be out of here in a week, tops."

"… okay."

That really shouldn't have felt like a punch in the guts. Normal people are thrilled to be released from the hospital, and with good reason. And while Arthur did want to leave the building to which he'd been confined for the last few weeks, resume his holidays and relax, he was also sad by the prospect of also having to leave Francis and Gilbert and Antonio.

Mostly Antonio.

Perhaps we could keep in touch after I'm gone, he thought, but didn't dare to say it aloud. He was terrified of rejection.

Then there was a knock on the door and Arthur breathed deeply, thankful for the interruption.

"Yes?" Antonio called.

The door was pushed open and a head with long, wavy hair peeked in. "Hello?" the woman said, hesitant. "I'm looking for Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

"This is his room, but he's not here right now. He's only getting x-rays, so he'll be back soon. You can wait here, if you like," Antonio invited with a friendly smile.

"Ah, thanks." Seemingly relieved, the woman walked in. "I'm Eliza."

"Yes, of course! Gil talks about you all the time. I'm his doctor; you can call me Antonio. Oh, and this is Arthur."

Arthur waved at her from his bed. Eliza raised an eyebrow at him, probably wondering if what he'd done to end up in like that had been just as stupid as Gilbert mistaking a huge Russian for her and kissing him by accident. (Looking at her now, Arthur really couldn't understand how Gil had committed that mistake. Just how drunk had he been?)

During the five minutes it took Francis and Gilbert to come back, Antonio shifted between doing some small talk with Eliza and moving Arthur into a wheelchair so that he was ready for his trip to the x-rays. Eliza was really nice and chatted naturally with the doctor (she had a very pretty eastern accent, Arthur noticed), but she refused to tell the motive of her visit. She did admit that she would have come sooner, but she had only been allowed after the lawyer (Ludwig) had made his magic and left Gil free of most charges.

"I'm certain Gil will be thrilled to see you here," said Antonio.

Speaking of the devil, Francis chose that moment to enter the room, Gilbert propelling his wheelchair behind him. "We're back," the nurse chirped.

"I love a good dose of radiation in the morning," Gilbert joked. Then he spotted the visitor. "Eliza! You came to see me!" he exclaimed, his whole face brightening up. He looked like a kid who had just been offered unlimited money to spend at a toy store.

"Hello, Gilbert," she smiled.

At Antonio's signal, he and Francis moved Gil back to his bed and promptly left with Arthur.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Arthur couldn't help but wonder what the couple was talking about.

~{§}~

When they came back after the x-rays, Eliza was already gone and Gilbert was gloomy.

"She said she met someone else while I was in here," he mumbled, downcast. "She's going to go travel with him. Oh, but it was nice knowing me."

The others shared a sad look.

"At least she waited until she could come tell you in person," Francis offered.

"Yeah, I supposed that was nice of her," he scoffed back.

"This was her loss, Gil, not yours," Antonio intervened.

"… you think so?"

"You're a cool guy," said Arthur, surprising everyone (even himself). "She barely knew you — she has no idea what she's lost."

An unsure smile made it to Gilbert's face. "Thanks, guys."

~{§}~

Despite the genuine compliments and attempts at cheering up, the day that had started so wonderfully well was now a bad one.

However, it was still early, and there was much room for improvement.

And improvement did come, in the form of João.

Lunch time was around the corner when Antonio walked in the room, a way too happy smile on his face that betrayed some nervousness, and announced: "Hey everyone, meet my brother!"

Francis, who already knew him, didn't look away from Gilbert's face, which he was treating for the sunburn, and simply said: "Hello, João, nice to see you again."

Then João walked into the room, and Arthur had to hold back a gasp. "When you said brother, did you by any chance mean clone?!" he exclaimed.

Indeed, the resemblance was uncanny. João's hair was longer (and neatly kept in a ponytail), but it was the same beautiful chocolate colour as Antonio's, and his eyes were as green, his skin as tanned, even his expressions when they shared a look were the same.

"If anything, he'd be the clone," João said. By his tone, it was obvious he had said this a million times before — clearly the brothers were very used to being told how alike they looked. "I'm older."

"I'm older," Antonio mimicked in mockery. "And I'm handsomer. Besides, we're not equal. Look, he's got a mole right here," he said, poking a spot right next to João's right eye.

"It's not a mole, it's a beauty mark," he corrected, grabbing his brother's finger and pushing it away from his face.

"It's a beauty mark," Antonio mocked again.

Then Gilbert said: "Look at that, Arthur, if Antonio keeps rejecting you, you can go out with his brother instead," and all the blood drained form Antonio's face; his smile froze on his lips.

"Huh?" João's gaze travelled from Gilbert to Arthur, who blushed and looked away, and shamelessly checked him out. "Antonio is rejecting you? Wha—?" He turned to his brother. "Antonio, are you stupid?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Arthur's abandoned puzzle book, opened it at a random page, and scribbled down a phone number. "There. Call me," he winked at Arthur as he returned the book.

"I'm not stupid," Antonio grumbled, perhaps a tad too mad at the silly insult.

"He rejects Arthur because he thinks he's the stupid one," Francis explained, still busy with Gilbert's sunburnt face.

"Really? Why?"

"I attempted to jump into the pool from a balcony and broke a leg," Arthur confessed.

"Ah, the famous balconing. Yes, I've heard of that. But—Hey, Antonio, that's so unfair!" He turned to his brother and glared at him. "You've also had bad experiences with balconies."

Everyone turned their entire attention to Antonio, who had gone even paler than before. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to speak: "That was a completely different thing," he said, slowly.

"Was it, though?"

"Maybe you should tell us so that we may judge," Gilbert snickered.

"Please do," Francis and Arthur practically begged at the same time.

"Please don't," Antonio mumbled, already knowing that his plea would go unheard.

"Oh, well, it happened many years ago…" João said, trailing off on purpose to elevate their curiosity. "I was twenty-two, so Antonio here must've been eighteen or nineteen. Just a baby straight out of high-school, eh?" he laughed as he nudged his mortified brother.

"Anyway," he went on, "we were in Pamplona for San Fermín, which, for the uncultured, is a big festival in which the main attraction consists on setting loose a bunch of bulls on the streets and run away from them. So there we were," he patted Antonio's shoulder, "running like the two crazy youngsters we were, when we noticed that a bull was getting close to us. Like, real close. I'm talking about a five-hundred kilos beast with pointy horns that's about to run over us. The most sensible thing to do is get out of its way; we could've easily jumped over the wood barrier on the side of the street and we would've been safe. But no, the genius here thought it'd be smarter to jump up and leave himself hanging from a random balcony."

"You did the exact same thing!" Antonio protested. No one listened to him.

"At least it did work and the bull passed. All the bulls, actually. Then the idiot jumped back on the ground and broke his ankle."

"I didn't break it—I sprained it," Antonio corrected. "And it's a completely different thing."

"Hmm." Arthur bobbed his head. "I don't know, it sounds just as stupid to me."

Antonio glared at him and then frowned, annoyed, when he noticed that he was saving João's number to his phone. "I wasn't drunk," he argued.

"Sure you weren't," João scoffed. "We spent two days drinking only kalimotxo," he whispered loudly to the others, as if he were sharing a secret that wasn't so secret.

"I was only a little tipsy," Antonio protested again. "And it was pure survival instinct."

"Yeah, whatever you say."

"Visit time is over," the doctor finally snapped. He grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him to the door, mumbling under his breath something about never ever inviting him over for lunch again. João put a hand next to his ear, mimicking a phone, and mouthed call me at Arthur; Antonio noticed and doubled his strength until he finally pushed him outside and slammed the door closed. Well, fuck. He sighed and turned to the others, raising a menacing finger. "Not a word."

Gilbert raised his hands in an innocent gesture; Francis closed an imaginary zipper over his lips; Arthur fanned himself with his puzzle book. All of them had amused smiles on their faces.

"You should bring over your brother more often," Gilbert said, breaking the silence after not even a minute.

"Why? So he can keep sharing embarrassing stories form my past?"

"Exactly."

"I support that," Francis intervened. "I want to know how many anecdotes you haven't told me."

"There aren't that many," Antonio growled. He took off his white gown (he'd have to take a detour to leave it in his locker) and was about to open the door to leave when he glanced at Arthur. The Englishman was nonchalantly skimming through a gossip magazine. He looked totally unconcerned. "Aren't you going to say anything?" asked Antonio.

"Hm? Oh, me?" Arthur looked at him with a smug smile. "But you told us not to say anything."

"It's not like those two assholes obeyed."

Francis and Gilbert smiled and waved, as if they'd received a compliment instead of an insult.

"Well…" Arthur put aside the magazine and tapped a finger on his chin in a theatrical pondering motion. "I'll just say that it really is impossible for something to happen between us."

That took Antonio by surprise. He glanced at the other two, maybe trying to see in their faces that they had heard the same as him, then looked back at Arthur. "Why—Why do you say that?"

Arthur smiled mischievously. "You don't date idiots who jump off balconies; I don't date idiots who run away from bulls for a pastime."

"Ha-ha," Antonio fake-laughed. "And you wouldn't make an exception for me?"

"Only if you make one for me."

Stunned, it took Antonio a few seconds to react. "At least your pickup lines are improving," he finally said, unable to hold back a sincere smile. "But I still don't date patients," he added quickly before leaving.

Arthur watched him leave, satisfied. Then he turned to look at Francis and Gilbert, whose gazes he could feel on himself. They nodded in approval and gave him a thumbs-up. Arthur returned the gesture.

And then he took his phone and deleted João's number.

~{§}~

No one (except perhaps Antonio) could have thought the day could get any better after that.

Yet, somehow, it did.

It was that time in the afternoon when there isn't a single interesting program on TV and time moves excruciatingly slowly. Arthur wanted to leave his bed, make himself a nice cup of tea, go for a walk. He glared at his plastered leg — and more intensely to that one spot that Alistair had signed before leaving — and silently commanded it to heal faster. To Hell if that meant leaving Antonio earlier—he wanted to get out of there.

The doctor walked into the room just then, a timid smile on his face (he no doubt was still a bit mortified by the story João had shared) but green eyes gleaming. He brought a box of chocolates to share with them.

Arthur reconsidered his priorities.

"And Francis?" he asked as he accepted one sweet.

"He was on his way. He'll be here any minute."

"It'd be rude to eat all the chocolate before he comes, right?" joked Gilbert as he not-so-jokingly grabbed a fistful.

"Yes." Antonio moved the box out of his reach and ate one. "I shouldn't be letting you two eat this in the first place."

"Thank you, oh mighty doctor," said Arthur in jest, and Antonio made an exaggerate bow, chuckling.

There was a knock on the door. Before anyone could answer, it was pushed open, just a crack, and Francis' head appeared. "Um, visitor for Gilbert Beilschmidt," he announced, hesitant.

Gilbert shrugged nonchalantly, assuming — like everyone else — that it was Ludwig. "Sure, let him in."

"But, um… I'm not sure—"

"What's the problem? Let him in!"

"… okay."

Francis pushed the door completely open and walked in.

Behind him was the biggest man Arthur had ever seen.

Gilbert gasped. "Vladimir!" he shrieked.

The Russian stopped dead on his track and tilted his head to the side. The resemblance to a confused puppy was ridiculous for a man his size.

Arthur remembered the description Gilbert had given him of the man who had left him in that state (he was mega-huge, man, I'm sure he wrestles bears as a pastime in Mother Russia) and for the first time he didn't deem it an exaggeration. That guy could wrestle a bear into submission and then still have strength left to go drink vodka with comrade Dmitri.

"Vladimir?" the Russian spoke then. His voice was surprisingly soft for such a big body. "No, no — Ivan."

Antonio's eyes jumped between Gilbert and Vladimir (who was apparently called Ivan), dreading that another incident may occur. The Russian could probably knock him to the ground with a simple flick, but he wasn't going to let him get anywhere near his patient if he had ill intentions. He eyed in mistrust how Ivan moved a hand inside his coat (Who in his right mind wears a coat in summer in Spain?); his body tensed, ready to spring into action if the Russian pulled out an ice axe to play Whac-A-Trotsky with them.

But when Ivan pulled out his hand, he was holding a giant sunflower, which he handed to Gilbert as he blushed and said: "Sorry about leg."

The astounded silence that followed was deafening.

Francis had a hand on his chest and a dreamy expression, clearly moved by the unexpected turn of events.

Antonio was mentally smacking himself for having misjudged Ivan. The man was basically a giant teddy bear!

Arthur was staring at the sunflower, wondering how the hell the Russian had carried it around without damaging it.

And Gilbert… His expression was unreadable. The sunburn on his face made it impossible to discern if he was livid or blushing or neither; his eyes didn't leave Ivan, but it was hard to tell whether he was looking at him or at the flower in his hand; his lips kept pouting, maybe trying to stop his jaw from dropping, perhaps trying to shut in an insult.

The clock was moving, is possible, even slower that before.

And then Gilbert smiled, erasing all the tension. "Thanks," he said, reaching for the flower.

Ivan hurried to his bedside and gave him the sunflower. Then he said something in German. Gilbert nodded and replied something else.

As they chatted, Arthur, Antonio and Francis shared a look, all of them silently asking the others if they spoke any German. None of them did.

Ivan stuttered; Gilbert laughed lightly.

They shook hands.

Ivan left.

Gilbert stared at the sunflower in thought as he ate a chocolate from his previous loot. There were three confused gazes on him.

Antonio coughed to get his attention. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Oh, he wanted to apologize."

"Was that all?" inquired Francis, suspicion in his voice.

"Well… He may have asked me out…"

Arthur's jaw dropped. "W-What did you tell him?"

Gilbert glanced at them, blinking in confusion when he saw the incredulous expressions on their faces.

"I said yes, of course!"


AN: The anecdote João tells is based on a hilarious fanart I saw on Tumblr. It's exactly that: Spain and Portugal hanging from a balcony as a bull passes trotting below them. I love it~ And boy, did I have fun writing all of Ivan's scene! XD Also, Spain thinking that Russia is a giant teddy bear is canon and you can't change my mind.