AN: Here, have some Bad touch Trio. And the Netherlands comes back, too. Also, you should note that this is the first time writing this three together for me. It's a lot of fun ,so I hope they stay IC...

Veuillez patienter... - Please wait... (French)

Word count : 1595

Ring.

He groaned.

Ring.

He took the pillow, and threw it over his head. No way. No phone. Not now. He still had hours of sleep he needed to catch up with.

"BROTHER, YOUR PHONE'S RINGING!"

God damned-

As if to emphasize his sister's words, the phone rang once more.

He sleepily let his head hidden under the pillow, and blindly groped for his cellphone on his night table. He'd grab it somehow, eventually. When he felt the device touch his fingers, he brought it under the pillow, and looked up who he was about to chew out for calling him at... What, almost eight in the evening? Really? Well, he'd gone to bed for about two hours today, so who would blame him? Anyway, he stared at the device uselessly, his sight blurry and trying to decipher the words.

Ring.

As soon as the letters stopped dancing around, he powered the device off. Screw him. He was not going to talk to Antonio. He had missed his precious sleep tonight because of him and he wasn't going to abdicate it once more. Whatever it was. Even if he called him to ask for an injured animal. Or because he was feeling lonely. Or if he was calling from the hospital because his wounds had suddenly gotten worse-

Shit, stupid Antonio.

He took the mobile phone back from the table, powered it on and looked for Antonio's number. Now he was awake. Really, damn him. It didn't even have the time to ring once when Lars already heard the cheerful voice on the other side. "S'rry, missed your call..." he mumbled sleepily.

"That's okay, it happens to me often! You know, you're in a hurry and in fact all you want to do is press the green little phone but instead you press the red one and then the person on the other end of the line is upset because they think you don't want to talk to them and in fact it's just because you're clumsy but still it's—"

Bastard.

"What were you calling for? What about your wounds?" he interrupted.

"My wounds? Oh, well, my nose hurts quite a bit and the cuts at my fingers feel awkward and my neck is still a bit stiff and my back still hurts but other than that, I guess I'm fine!"

"…"

"And I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to Eli's tonight, with Francis, Gilbert and me!"

"You have exactly three seconds to tell me something that will not make me hang up on you."

"Wha-"

"Two."

"Oh, I guess I can tell you that I got Vash's report, then. Well, a part of it at least."

"… And you're telling me only now?" Lars almost shouted from under his pillow. He tried to calm down. Idiot. "What did he find out?"

"Well..." He heard a rustling noise in the background. Probably paper. "Ah, here it is..." This time, pages turned. "Okay. So. The cause of his death was indeed the bullet he received in the back of his head... And here, something else interesting. From the ballistic. Apparently, he could have been shot from the building we were on, because of the angle of the impact or something like that..."

"What about the bullet?" More paper rustle.

"Caliber 7,62x51 millimeters, NATO, whatever that is..."

"... You're a bad cop, you know that? NATO is just there to say that it is standard format. So that they can exchange their ammunitions wherever the go on mission, something..." He tried to think straight despite the cloud that was currently fogging his mind. It didn't work. "What about the weapon?"

"Yeah... That's the awkward thing. Vash added a little Post-it note, here, when he gave me that part of his report..."

"And...?"

"He wrote 'Too many possible weapons. The guys from the ballistic are not done yet and I'm not looking them all up for you. Not at five in the morning. Google it, moron.' Why do you think he wrote that?"

"… I'm guessing : because you're you."

"And?"

"Forget it, Antonio."

"Oh. Well. Okay. I think that's it. I hope I didn't disturb you, see you tomorrow at work!"

"What do you mean-"

Click.

"—at work?"

Lars threw his phone aside without looking, irritated ; it fell down in an agonizing clatter. He heard muffled footsteps from where he was trying to sleep, and then the door opened.

"Who was it?" He didn't respond and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Maybe had she already left.

"Broer..." She hadn't.

"You have three guesses."

"Antonio?"

"Yes."

The person chuckled. "Okay. Well, try to sleep a bit, Lars, you deserve it. I'm going to work."

"Isn't it a little too late?" he asked, still under the strategic location that were the cushions.

"Wait... Oh, yes it is! Well, that's okay. I told Erzsébet that you came home late, so she won't mind."

"… What do I have to do with this...?"

"…" Lars could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Nothing. I'm leaving. Bye, see you tomorrow!"

"Yeah..." The door slammed shut. "Bye, Amélie..."

(- -)

"Es-tu persuadé d'avoir appelé ton ami, Antoine?"

Antonio stared. And tried to think. And stared again.

"Sorry Francis, I think he's not drunk enough to understand what you're talking about. And by the way," the man took the pint of beer in front of him, and downed about a third of it in one gulp. "I'm not either. So quit the French." Francis huffed and waved his hand in dismissal.

"You are so violent and insensible, Gilbert. Antoine, at least, understands me a bit." he turned around. "N'est-ce-pas?"

"Tu is 'you', right?" Antonio said, brows furrowed, not listening to Francis at all anymore and staring at his glass in grand concentration as if it would tell him the answer at any moment. So much for understanding. Francis sighed.

"I think it will be just you and me, then. Antoine looks like he has already lost." He glanced at Antonio quickly, who was now attempting to scold his beer glass for not giving him any response. Yup, definitely only the two of them.

"Tonio is awesome, but not awesome enough to hold alcohol." He finished his glass. "Hey, Erzsi! Mind if I have another one?"

"As long as you pay for it and don't destroy my furnitures or get naked to dance on the counter, I don't mind."
Gilbert suddenly didn't look particularly well at ease, and might have blushed a bit. Might, because blushing definitely wasn't awesome, damn it. "Hey! That was a one-time thing!"

"I hope so." Erzsébet answered, glaring at him .

"Yeah, yeah... Hey, Francis, what did you ask earlier?"

"Do you want to have sex with me?" Francis smiled smugly as he whispered the words next to his friend's ear, getting closer to him until their legs touched.

"No, after that." Gilbert replied, unfazed, and pushing Francis back into his stool.

"Does Antoine want to have sex with me?" the Frenchman wondered aloud, one eyebrow raised.

The German pressed his palm against his face. "No, not that one either." Another glass appeared magically in front of him. Well, almost magically anyway. "Thank you, Erzsi!" He drank. "That other thing. In French. Just before, when Tonio started staring at his glass."

Francis looked thoughtful for a second, and then he remembered. "Ah, oui! I just wanted to make sure if he had called the right person." Francis smiled again, Gilbert just wanted to hide. "He doesn't look bad, you know?"

"You say that from everyone, Francis."

"Jaloux, Gilbert?"

"Nah. I'm rather alone."

"Sure you are..."

A short moment of silence, and then. "Of course I took the right door! Otherwise I wouldn't be here with you, silly!" Antonio laughed joyfully. Francis and Gilbert both didn't say anything, but stayed perfectly calm, as this kind of situation had only become very common. Antonio was talking with his beer glass. So what? Gilbert did it all the time when it didn't refill itself automatically, Francis did things that were even less orthodox than that.

"You know what? I think we should wait for Dennis next time, at least he would be an entertaining drunk."

"And he has a nice ass-"

"Stop that, Francis."

Translations :
Broer (Dutch) : Brother
Es-tu persuadé d'avoir appelé ton ami, Antoine? (French) : Are you sure to have called you friend, Antoine? (Antoine is just the French form of Antonio. Yeah, Francis will do that lot, because he likes to annoy the hell out of everyone)
N'est-ce-pas? (French) : Am I right?
Jaloux, Gilbert? (French) : Jealous, Gilbert?

Francis Bonnefoy [24] is the one of the trio to easily get bored ; they met on a camping trip once when they were still kids, and through strange circumstances met again in high school (in Italy, so it was a damn coincidence). His parents are quite rich, and he likes to invent a lot of messed-up things when he has nothing else to do.

Gilbert Beilschmidt [24] is the one of the trio who works at the bank. But not just as employee, he's actually the boss there, and handles it quite well. He holds alcohol very good, up to a certain extent.

Veuillez patienter... [Please wait...]