Oh Shit
For once, Ludovicus had actually looked older. It was one of the things that he had never understood about his grandfather, the fact that he continued to look so young, no greying of his hair and not as many wrinkles as he should have had. To tell the truth, Marcus was rather like that too. Gilbert had not stuck around long enough to look too hard, but he could have sworn Ludovicus looked older.
About time, really.
"Gilbert! I... are you all right?"
"Fuck no!" Gilbert threw his coat at the wall. Francis waited there for him to say something else, but he went to the kitchen instead. "Do you vant a sandvich?"
"Sure..."
Gilbert glared into his fridge, willing something bad to be happening in his brother's house right then. He grabbed a few things and nearly threw them onto the counter, except that Francis was standing there.
"Gilbert," he said soothingly, which was not what Gilbert wanted to hear right now. "Tell me."
"Grandpa's here."
Francis nodded and moved out of the way. Gilbert did not slam the things into the counter like he had intended and just set them down. Francis was pulling out the beer. Damn, he was a good friend. He would miss him after he was dead and Gilbert was Antonio's best man. Eh, who was he kidding? He would only mortally wound him. The jokes were not making him feel better though. He started preparing the sandwiches the same.
"Ludwig's house?" Francis continued in that short question short answer type way that Gilbert hated, but always seemed to respond to.
He scowled. "Ja."
"Then you can't blame him for seeing you. What you feel shouldn't stop Ludwig from seeing him."
"He took us avay from Vati!" Gilbert exclaimed as he slapped the last pieces of bread on top of the last sandwich. "Why doesn't Ludwig hate him for dat?"
"He was younger," Francis shrugged as Gilbert handed one over. "Not as many memories."
"Even less den most people, after dat accident vhen he vas fife," Gilbert shrugged. Francis frowned, biting into his food.
"Accident?"
"I tolt you about dis," Gilbert reminded him, opening a beer. "Vhen he vas fi... Francis?" Francis dropped his sandwich, gripping at his throat. Gilbert blinked for a few second before it hit him. He had put mustard in the fucking sandwich! "Francis!"
Phone was in hand immediately as Gilbert panicked. What was he supposed to do? What had he done? Francis was struggling to stand, also struggling to get something out of his coat pocket. Gilbert helped him stay up, wondering whether it was best to keep him up or make him sit down. "Alfred? Just pick up! Dis is de goddamn emergency line!"
"What's wrong?"
"I'fe killed Francis!" Gilbert found himself shrieking. "He's allergic to it, I forgot! No, I didn't forget, I just–"
"Gilbert, calm down. Does he have an epipen?"
He was an idiot! Gilbert emptied all of Francis' pockets to find it, dropping the man so he could take off the cap. "I hafe it. Vhere...?"
"His thigh and keep it there for at least ten seconds. Are you both at your house?"
Gilbert stabbed him in the leg, injecting it as Francis kept trying to claw at his throat. "Yeah, yeah! Ve're here!"
"Stay on the phone with me Gilbert. I am coming. Did you inject him?"
Francis finally was able to gasp for air. Gilbert finally allowed himself to breath.
"He's breathing... he's breathing..."
Gilbert slid down to sit next by the Frenchman, listening to Francis' gasp for air in one ear and Alfred's calming voice in the other.
It was still hard to not start screaming.
Notes:
Francis is allergic to mustard. Anaphylactic shock allergic. While they have been trying to 'kill' each other, really having a murder charge on their hands would probably suck. Though Francis is a lawyer, he would use the self-defense plea. Still, I believe this calls for an end of their pretending to incapacitating each other.
