AN: Sorry for the wait. I'd love to have some great excuse to share with you, but the truth is I've just been busy with school and acting. Anyway, here is chapter four (eventually)! As always, sorry for any errors, and I hope you enjoy. This chater does contain strong language, sexual situations and drug use. You have been warned. PLEASE REVIEW!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. Not even a little bit.
The worst part about having a brother like Ludwig, Gilbert had decided approximately 2.47 minutes ago, was the constant nauseous, guilty feeling when the rules he laid out were inevitably broken.
Well, that and being banned the bathroom for forty minutes every morning whilst he slicked his hair back with copious amounts of gel. Gilbert had tried numerous tactics to try and lure him out (telling him the house was on fire, smashing his possessions, setting off small, localised explosions) but he refused to leave the sink until every last strand of hair was pressed against his scalp.
The problem was, Ludwig was extremely uptight. His life revolved around rules and regulations, with no room for creativity or excitement.
Gilbert scowled at the piece of lined paper stuck to the fridge, hoping that his superpowers had finally manifested themselves and he would be able to burn it with his laser vision. Nothing happened.
"Oh, come on," the albino sighed, "Not even one smouldering corner?" Nothing stubbornly continued to happen.
Even though Ludwig was long gone, there was no mistaking the small, neat handwriting the instructions had been written in.
"Don't play music too loudly," Gilbert read in the most pompous voice he could muster, "Don't disturb the neighbours. Don't try to make contact with aliens. Don't touch the food processor. Don't invite that awful French boy round. Don't do a striptease on my car bonnet- no matter how much anyone pays you. Don't go into my room. Don't prank call the President – I still don't know how you got through to him last time. Don't aggravate the Swiss boy next door. Don't call me unless the emergency services are involved."
"So basically," he'd dropped the snobby imitation of Ludwig's voice, but not the despondent air, "I'm not allowed to do anything fun. Well, jokes on you, Luddy, because aggravating the Swiss boy next door would come under the category of disturbing the neighbours!"
Oh, dear. He'd finally resorted to picking holes in Ludwig's classification system for fun. The end was near.
Fortunately for Gilbert's mental state, at that moment the phone rang. He bounded towards the noise, tripped over the leg of a chair, knocked a vase down from the mantelpiece, and fell flat on his face.
Well, technically there was nothing in the rules about breaking their father's prized possessions. He picked himself up, prodded at his nose (bleeding slightly, but not broken) and dashed off towards the phone.
"This is Gilbert. Speak now or fuck off."
That is no way to answer the phone.
Oh, shit, Ludwig was gone but he'd left his damn voice to keep an eye on things!
"Hey, Gil. Hi. Hello. Bonjour. Salve. Isn't it a pretty day?"
Gilbert frowned at the receiver.
"Franny - are you drunk?"
"The sun is high and so am I, mon ami. Hehe, I'm a poet."
"Right…"
"I'm bringing Lars to the party tonight."
"Lars? Who the fuck is Lars?"
"Oh, he's real nice."
"I don't trust your judgement. Not since you sent me on a blind date with that weird Latvian guy who spent the entire time shaking and apologising."
"He was cute!"
"He burst into tears when I dropped my fork on the floor."
"You should never underestimate cuteness."
"He was cute in the way that a dead puppy is cute. You feel sorry for it, but you don't want to touch it, and you sure as hell don't want it in your bed."
"What a delightful analogy."
"Yeah, I'm a literary genius. Now fuck off."
"The party starts at ten, oui? I told the people I invited that the party started at ten."
"Okay, whatever, Hang on- 'people'? Who's 'people'?
"Just a few friends. Me, Toni, Lovino, Feliciano, Arthur, Matthew, Heracles, Kiku Honda, Ivan Braginski, that pretty Belgian girl, Feliks and his boyfriend, the Lithuanian dude, Ivan's fit sister, Ivan's crazy sister, a few guys from the hockey team, Wang Yao and the people he hangs round with, Michelle, Lars, some boys from Drama club, Eduard, Gupta, Sadik, Matthias, Im Yong Soo, the choir girls, my cousins, Arthur's brother's babysitter, a bloke on the bus and this cute chick I picked up in a bar last Monday. Oh, and Barry. Can't forget Barry."
"…Er, none of them are interested in prank calling the President, are they?"
"Not that I know of."
"Awesome. Ten it is."
The three vital ingredients for a good party (according to Gilbert, anyway) were awesome music, a hell of a lot of sexual tension, and recreational drug use. He looked around the room, his hands on his hips, and smiled smugly to himself. This was an excellent party.
He had chosen the music himself. There was enough of a beat to dance to, as the group of people bouncing around near the speakers demonstrated, and it was loud enough to break up any number of awkward silences, but you could still maintain a conversation without your words being drowned out. If he hadn't been holding a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, Gilbert would have patted himself on the back.
As for sexual tension… well, one glance at the corner of the living room was enough to confirm that criteria. Francis was pressed up against Arthur, blonde heads close together, moving his hips in time to the rhythm. As far as Gilbert could see the British boy wasn't smiling, but his cheeks were almost neon pink and his eyes were half-lidded and dark. Gilbert's smirk widened.
Now, all that was left were the drugs. The keg was enough to keep the portion of the guests who were satisfied with alcohol happy, but for those who weren't… Gilbert took a deep breath of stuffy, sweat-stained air, and caught that familiar whiff of herbal goodness.
He moved towards the garden, dropping his lager off on a side table and his cigarette on the floor on his way.
Sure enough, someone had set up camp on the patio. Gilbert moved a little closer, straining to see in the near-darkness, and realised that it was Lars, the Dutch guy Francis had brought with him.
No wonder Franny sounded so out of it on the phone.
If Ludwig and Father come home to find cannabis littered all over the garden, they will not be very happy, Ludwig-voice informed him primly.
Oh, shut it. It's not going to be all over the garden. It's going to be inside a bunch of teenagers.
A bunch of underage teenagers, smoking an illegalsubstance.
Has no-one ever told you that the best things in life are illegal?
That's a ridiculous fallacy invented by anarchists to attempt to justify their morally decrepit actions.
Wow, Voice. That really hit your buttons, didn't it?
Perhaps if you refrained from such exploits, you wouldn't have a Voice in your head.
"Alright, Lars?" Gilbert grinned lazily down at the tall boy, who was reclining against an old deckchair with someone snuggled up beside him.
"Yup." His voice, his entire demeanour in fact, was long and relaxed. He glanced at the spliff dangling from his fingers, as if considering, then held it out to Gilbert.
The albino boy took it, lifted it to his lips, and then stopped. There was something familiar about the person lying next to Lars, even in the darkness. They were slim, with pale hands, and as they shifted sleepily he caught a glimpse of blonde hair.
"Mattie?" Gilbert yelled.
If he had to describe how he was feeling right now, he'd go for 'astounded'. Actually, no. Someone pretentious, like Ludwig, would choose 'astounded'. He settled for 'shocked'. Mattie didn't do drugs… did he?
The person lifted their head- and apparently, Mattie did do drugs, because it was unmistakeably him.
"Hey, Gil," he smiled, a beautifully lazy smile, and Gilbert's hands clenched into fists.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, glaring at Lars, "He's never smoked weed before."
Lars shrugged, and suddenly Gilbert despised his sluggish apathy. "He wanted some."
Gil turned back to Mattie, who was struggling to his feet. "I feel weird," he mumbled.
"Yeah, well, you've just done a joint for the first time. Congratulations." Gilbert slung his arm around the Canadian boy's shoulders and manoeuvred him inside the house.
Mattie blinked in the bright, loud living room, cringing back against Gil's side. "It's… I don't like it in here," he murmured.
Gilbert yanked him through to the deserted kitchen, shut the door, and pushed the smaller boy into a chair. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, sighed, and sat down next to him.
What a fucking mess.
Mattie closed his eyes. His eyelids looked thin, and delicate, laced with purple veins. What a beautiful fucking mess.
Suddenly, Mattie was on his feet, his expression excited. Gilbert regarded him wearily.
"Apples! I love apples," Mattie gushed, lunging and grabbing one from the fruit bowl, "You know… apple sauce! Apple sauce? I'm hungry." He pouted. "Are you hungry? I'm really hungry. Let's make some pie! I love pie. I love love love pie."
How can someone look so gorgeous and sound so bloody stupid?
He bobbed towards a cupboard. Gilbert grabbed his arm gently, shaking his head.
"Your ceiling is so big..." He was gazing upwards now, swaying gently back and forth.
"There are wasps in my head, Gil. Wasps! Going- going buzz. Buzz buzzzzz buzzzzzzzzz."
He collapsed back onto the chair, rubbing at his forehead and chuckling to himself.
"Buzzzzzz! Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!"
"Stop it!"
He stopped halfway through a buzz and looked up innocently at Gilbert.
"What's wrong? Don't you like my buzzing?"
"No. It's annoying."
Slightly harsh, maybe, but he probably wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.
"I- I don't like it. They're flying about." Mattie's face was suddenly the picture of misery.
"Have some water." Gil filled a glass and held it out to him; he clutched at it with both hands, like a child.
Oh God… How do I deal with this?
"GILBERT! My love hast forsaken me!" Francis burst into the kitchen looking completely dishevelled, his hair tangled, his shirt ripped at the seam. It was becoming something of a trademark look. "
I don't-" Gilbert started to say, but was immediately cut off.
"It was going so well! He was drunk and we were kissing and it was all so amore and then-then that bastard American burst in! And I said- I said you-"
Francis pointed for effect, and Gilbert realised he was very drunk,
"I said you are not invited. And then he punched me quite hard. And he took my rosbif away!"
Something is very wrong here. I am now officially the most responsible person in our friendship group. It's surreal.
"I need some wine…" Gilbert shoved a bottle of something red into Francis' hands and he flounced out.
"Jesus…"
"AH! I GOT STUNG BY ONE OF THE WASPS!"
Mattie was grabbing at his hair with his fingers, rocking back and forth on the chair.
"Just to clarify," Gilbert said dryly, leaning against the counter, "This is one of the wasps flying round inside your head, right?"
Mattie stopped rocking. "Yeah…" he murmured miserably.
He suddenly stood up and staggered towards the albino.
He threw his arms around his neck, and Gilbert's heart started thudding along at about 1000 beats per minute.
"Gilbert," the Canadian boy whispered, so close to Gilbert's ear he could feel his hot breath on the sensitive skin there, "I- I like… I like-" He leaned in.
This is- this is it. He's going to kiss me. I'm going to kiss Matthew Williams. Oh, fuck!
Matthew looked straight into Gilbert's eyes. His head moved closer. His mouth opened.
And he vomited all the way down both of their shirts.
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