A/N: Sorry for the long break between chapters. This bad habit might probably continue. Personally I like this chapter because I literally wrote this on loads of caffeine during the wee hours of morning when I should have been typing up my thesis. Oh well, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: Standard warnings apply. I do not own the characters and other copyrighted stuff that may be littered around this fic. Warnings for slight language, the BFT, and caps lock abuse in a poor excuse of an email.
There was a time when Francis could confidently say that the love the Bad Friends shared with the world was one of a kind and enriching. The love they had for others burned like flames, or something equally poetic, in his humble opinion.
This time, Francis could confidently say that anyone who dared to fall madly in love with any one of the Bad Friends was just that: plain mad, possibly stupidly masochistic, with no common sense or self-preservation. Their love after all, could cause unfathomable happiness, and also unfathomable distress.
Take one Gillian Beilschmidt-Edelstein for example, who is currently pregnant, nearing the end of her term, nearing the end of her vows of abstinence, and possibly nearing the end of her sanity for sending off her husband on a surprise trip to Brazil.
The reason is to be explained later, perhaps never, if Gillian suddenly changes her mind about sharing it to her only best friends in the entire universe.
Today was supposed to be his day. Now it has to be shared with two bad friends. Two very bad idiot friends.
But first, he needed sleep. Precious, life-giving, rejuvenating sleep. Hopefully, he'd be allowed to sleep forever and be a real-life sleeping beauty and a charming knight, preferably one with bushy brows that would (also hopefully) be shaved thin, would wake him up with a kiss and stop calling him a frog.
"I have big news!" Gillian crowed, her eyes twinkling as she slammed the door shut with a careless bang.
"We don't want to hear them! In fact, we only want to hear the blissful sound of silence." Or the rustling of bed sheets, as the only thing visible to Gillian was her friend's naked French ass, and a hint of a bright red tomato shirt in the far corner of the bed.
"But this is important! And you're both here anyway so I won't have to go through the trouble of going over to Toni's place where his tomato hellion of a boyfriend would be lying in wait."
"Whatever news you have come to share can wait later…when this pounding in my head is gone. Please stop yelling, I don't want Toni to wake up wailing. I hope he doesn't remember last night. Everything he poured out to me was ten times worth all the blackmail material I've ever built up about him over the years. And please don't mention his special tomato's name. just call him tomato. Urgh. I want sleep." Francis grumbled before pulling the blankets back over his head, which unfortunately still did not cover his backside.
"Oh right, I forgot you drank yourselves silly last night. Don't worry, I won't disturb you in those miserable throes of hangover you're currently experiencing!"
"Gil, shut up! You're loud and annoying and everything's so bright!" Antonio wailed from his corner, the shifting of his shirt the only sign he was still breathing even when his head was buried under a fluffy pillow.
"You shut up, you're screaming too. Fine! I'll leave you idiots be. Wallow in hung-over misery you jerks! I'm going to make lunch and eat everything in Franny's kitchen because his stuff is more awesome than the stuff I've got back home, so good fucking luck finding yourselves a decent meal later and a great deal of painkillers too."
And with one last ear-splitting shriek at her friends, Gillian stomped off and slammed the door enough to nearly knock it off its hinges.
"When I'm sober and remember all this, I'm taking my wood axe and splitting her in two." Antonio grouched into his pillow. Francis just kicked him off the bed.
When lunchtime passed by into a blissfully cool afternoon, only then did Francis took it upon himself to humor his extremely pregnant, extremely moody friend with his presence, and to eat an extremely late brunch. As for Antonio, he probably was still asleep to keep his ritual siesta hours. Ah well, who cared what Antonio did in his free hours.
Gillian was wearing a dress the most garish shade of pink ever known in the history of mankind coupled with a bright yellow hair clip and flip-flops with cute chick designs. Francis wanted to poke his eyes out at the very sight of it since the dress indeed made her look like a beached whale on steroids, but since Gil was his friend and would not be pleased if he avoided eye contact altogether, he settled for glancing every now and then at the spot just above her ear.
"Exactly how far along are you? I had no idea that a pregnancy could make a woman go insane." Francis muttered as he reached across the table to pick off the last of Gillian's potatoes. His hand was slapped away the instant his hand hovered just above her plate.
"Stop eating my food! I'm not insane, I'm awesome. I bet no wife in the history of ever has done what I have done! It was the best surprise I came up with, you should have seen Roddy's face!" Gillian exclaimed.
"I shudder to imagine his reaction as you shipped him off on a whim. Poof! Just like that. Any sane husband would have divorced you the moment you stopped drinking beer. That was the surest sign you were going to be a terror." Francis replied promptly, grinning when Gillian shot him a glare.
"Then it's a good thing we're well-matched and we're both insane. And in reply to your first question, I have no idea how far along I am. Probably close enough to the due date but I stopped going to the doctor ever since I got those awesome ultrasound baby pics. That's all I need from them anyway, and of course I'll be needing them again when I finally deliver my awesome kid into the world."
Well. That sounded more like the Gillian he knew. She never really liked authority figures or people who had several letters attached after their names, or people who kept trying to tell her what to do (except for Roderich and her brother, apparently.) "You stopped just after that? Gil, seriously?"
"Awesomely, if I might add. I was getting tired of all those health bullshit the doctor was preaching every check-up and also the many books I'm forced into buying every single time Roderich listens to her crap advice. Her or he? I think I've been having check-ups with several doctors for a while now, I don't actually remember. They haven't been too awesome for me to remember anyway."
If Francis were to get married some time in the foreseeable future, he sure as hell would do everything to make sure his spouse and future progeny would get the best care and comfort, and he sure as hell would not think that health advice is bullshit if the lives of those he cared for are at stake. "Gil, honestly! What did you do to your husband? Please do tell me you had it all planned out and not just exiled him because he was grating on your nerves!" On second thought, there was also some very special someone who got on his nerves on a regular basis, but for the sake of love and chivalry he would never do something as drastic as what Gillian had just done.
Meal forgotten, Gillian rose and slammed both hands on the table, eyes bright with emotion. "Have you ever known me to do things recklessly?" she demanded.
When she was met with silence and a disbelieving look, Gillian caved in with a grumble and sank back to her seat.
"Fine. I had been plotting the whole thing ever since the quickening started. I noticed Roderich was beginning to get stressed over the whole pregnancy. I didn't want him to. I know he worries a lot and that even if people think or say I don't care, I do! I love him, y'know, and I don't want him to stress out just because we're having a baby. I want him to be happy and play his crappy music all day and be free to do all the things he enjoys doing because it's fun and right!
"He doesn't need to show that he loves and supports me by coddling me so much that it gets hard for me to do my own thing. I mean, I had to sacrifice my hobbies and my habits because they weren't really good in the first place, but he didn't have to go sacrifice his because they were all good and productive and he gets to make a lot of people happy. Tell me Franny, how many people do I make happy, really happy with my bar-tending? I just make them drunk-happy and then the next day they wake up with shitty hangovers. I don't help people, and make them better, Roddy does. So I don't want him to sacrifice the good he does because of me. I am the bad to his good, and that's why I married him! Because I loved the goodness in him, and that he loved me even though I was bad news."
When Gillian was quiet for a while after her outburst, Francis looked at her, really looked, and what he saw sort of broke his heart a bit. Gillian was crying sad, silent tears that rolled down her pale cheeks and made her eyes puffy and as horribly pink as that monstrous dress. Nobody got to see Gillian as emotional as this. Not even her husband.
For as long as he knew his strong-willed friend, he had only seen her shed tears with such love and concern and pain twice. The first time was when her grandpa Fritz died. The second was when her father died. And now, she was crying for her husband. If that wasn't love hidden so deep within her stubborn, wild heart, Francis did not know what else to call it.
"I'm sure Roderich knows you love him, Gil. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks of you? You have his love and he has yours, and that love gave the both of you that little blessing growing inside you. I think you should be happy too, because like you said, it's more awesome that way."
Roderich had been lost so many times he probably knew every crowded street and dark alley in Rio by now. When the entire concert tour was over the first thing he vowed to do was set free every single little yellow bird Gillian had in their house as revenge. But somewhere in some dark corner of his mind he was secretly thankful that Gillian actually thought of the surprise trip. It had been so long since he last held a concert or played music for a crowd, and he both missed and enjoyed the feeling of the lights and audience focused on him. He was back in his element and he definitely had to thank his wife for that. She knew exactly what he needed.
Back at the hotel he had to call home several times with the answering machine as his only reply, and when he tried to call Ludwig, the brute had the audacity to complain about the costs of international calls before hanging up.
When he tried to call Gillian's friends, the ones who usually picked up were whoever they were sleeping with at the time and never the actual idiots of the Bad Friends. It was mildly frustrating and also a bit strange. Once, he called Bonnefoy's number and got redirected to some grumpy Brit who also yelled at him for call costs, and that if he was 'the dumb frog's current fuck toy, because if so, better be prepared to wake up cursed as a rock' among other things ranted in some posh British accent Roderich had no patience to listen to. So he hung up on that one and decided never to call Bonnefoy in the meantime. "What in the world has everyone been doing lately?"
Deciding to abandon the phone, Roderich fished out the laptop he rarely used and after fumbling a bit to connect to the hotel's WiFi, he opened his e-mail and hoped that his wife would find the time to think about checking her e-mails.
'Gillian dearest, why have you sent me away? What have you been doing lately? How's the baby? Do I need to come back and drag you to the hospital? Please tell me you're okay. Your brother is a rude, penny-pinching fool. I need updates.'
Roderich hit send and waited an hour for a reply. When none was forthcoming he typed another one.
'Gil, this is your husband, Roderich, who you have lovingly sent to Brazil without giving a reason why. Thank you for organizing a concert and for sending my violin along with me, although I still miss the piano back home. I played Tchaikovsky on a baby grand earlier and it was lovely. A lot of people came to listen. Thank you.
I would also like to remind you that I am still going to be mad at you and take revenge for not telling me you had planned this out in secret! Also, please tell your Bonnefoy to stop having adultery. I believe he has already been claimed and he hasn't realized it yet. You see, I have been threatened by his scorned lover, who thinks I am one of his whores, and I do not wish to be cursed to live the rest of my life as a rock. Please tell the owner of that lovely Spanish restaurant; I'm sorry I forgot his name, I think it was Alejandro or something, that his phone has probably been stolen by someone from the Italian mafia. I'm not sure but I heard a lot of crashing and banging and I think someone was being tortured in the background. Gil, please answer our house phone. Please stop staying over other people's places. Thank you.'
When he finished supper and a shower, Roderich was getting anxious that there still seemed to be no reply. What was that thing kids these days used to communicate with other people over the internet? Placebook? Crumblr? He really had no idea about those and if they were effective. What did Gillian use the most? He only had an e-mail account!
Just when he was on the brink of falling asleep, his laptop screen lit up and emitted a little pop sound. A reply, finally! Roderich rolled over the last few inches towards the bedside table and eagerly snatched up his glasses. Ah, there it was! An e-mail from his wife.
'Hubby darling, why the hell are you e-mailing? Ever heard of IM? Ever thought of using Skype instead? You've been clogging up my inbox y'know, and I can't find the updates for the game I downloaded. Just how many e-mails must you send me?!
OK, to start with your FIRST or many, many stupid questions, NO! I DID NOT SEND YOU AWAY! STOP THINKING THAT I'M TRYING TO GET RID OF YOU! I gave you a surprise trip. Surprise!
Second, what have I been doing lately? Hmm, I've been doing awesome things as usual and it has been awesome so far and the food I'm eating is awesome by the way and I get to do a lot of awesome things to make people's lives more awesome, ok?!
Baby's fine. STOP WORRYING ABOUT THE BABY! STOP THINKING BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN TO IT BECAUSE NO, RODDY, I'M AWESOME MAMA BEAR, REMEMBER?
Do you need to come back and drag me to a hospital? Of course you get to come back, after your concert tour, idiot! And no, I am not allowing you to drag me to a hospital. You're going to carry me in style when the time comes. But no, I don't need a hospital right now. I am AWESOME. AWESOOOOME!
Shut up, you hypocrite. You're the worst penny-pinching bastard I've ever known so you don't have the right to point fingers and name names at my baby bro, I think he picked up that evil habit from you. Shame on you, you ruined my brother's ability to have fun with money he earned for that very reason.
YOU DON'T NEED UPDATES. IT WILL ONLY MAKE YOU WORRY. LIKE I SAID, EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!'
Roderich suppressed a sigh from reading the A word over and over. POP! And a new message appeared on his inbox, from Gillian, and now Roderich was slightly dreading having to read the word 'awesome' again. This must be in reply to his second e-mail then. He suddenly had the feeling that it was a mistake to send those messages. Gillian tended to rant a lot when the mood overtook her.
'Roddy, this is your wife Gil, who is very tired from reading your second e-mail because seriously? I sent you to Brazil to have fun having weird music sex with pianos and violins and flutes and whatever else instrument you're going to play for the crowds who love your prissy music. STOP COMPLAINING BECAUSE I KNOW YOU SECRETLY ENJOY YOUR CONCERT TOUR.
I don't know who the Russian guy with the unpronounceable Russian name is but if he makes excellent vodka, I want to meet him.
OF COURSE LOTS OF PEOPLE LISTEN. YOU'RE A STAR. REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE AWESOME TOO.
Of course, you're welcome to my awesomeness anytime, and that no matter how you threaten me, I still have one up over you. If you continue to threaten me, darling, I swear when you return I will never EVER suck you off in the kitchen or ride you in bed again. EVER.
I think you're right, Roddy. Franny is technically committing adultery, but it's not my place to call him out on it. He should realize it himself, as you said. When did you become an expert on my friends?! Don't worry about being threatened by Iggy, those curses have no effect against the power of awesome! Don't worry about Franny, he's not exactly your friend, he's mine, and he's a grown man, he can sort out his relationship on his own, and we can sit back and laugh about it.
The Spanish restaurant's owner is named Antonio, and it's okay if you don't actually remember his name. We call him Toni mostly because we also often forget his full name. Believe me it's really fucking long! His phone hasn't been stolen, idiot, the guy who probably answered your call was his boyfriend and he is not a muffin, nobody's being tortured, you most likely just heard them having sex. Wild, rough, hate sex. Mm, bet you're missing awesome sex with me. Don't worry, if you're good to mama, mama's good to you, Roddy!
As for you calling our house phone, I'm not answering the phone because I know its just you and it means you're being a worrywart again. Also, staying over at other people's houses is definitely more AWESOME than staying at home! Our baby needs to hear the outside world too so allow us to run wild and free!
Look, get some sleep Roddy, I know you're tired from all that you've done today, and you still have one more performance tomorrow before I have to see your face again. Sleep. Sleep is awesome. You're awesome. I know I don't say this much because it's embarrassing as shit when we're in public but I Love You, so sleep and dream of me fucking you right now because that's the most I can give you from such a long distance.'
The message ended there and Roderich continued to stare blankly at his screen, absorbing the words blaring at him and the fact that Gillian had just typed that. Well then, that was honestly sound advice and it was in his best interest to obey. So Roderich shut the lid of his laptop, set his glasses atop it, shucked off his clothes and dove under the duvet to do exactly as Gillian had said.
He did not notice the muffled little pop of one last message before he drifted off into sexy dreamland where his wife was sexy hot and not as bloated as a watermelon, and they had a dozen or so children running around in their garden surrounded by little yellow chicks.
Gillian grinned as she sent one last message before signing out.
It was an attached copy of the latest ultrasound scan of their baby.
The message only read, 'Congratulations to both of us, Roddy! If you look closely, we're having an awesome baby boy!'
A/N:As always, reviews and comments are appreciated! if you spot any errors please let me know, I typed this during hours when a normal person's brain should be resting. Chapter 9 is in the works, but it might take a while, so please be patient with me (as you always have) and thank you for taking time to read this story.