I'm back! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, I don't really even know what I was thinking when I wrote it. It's rather short, but meh. I loved y'all's reviews on the last chapter, and I'm really glad that you have enjoyed it thus far!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hetalia franchise.

The Curse of a Loose Tongue

"Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."

―Ben Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanack

Gilbert wasn't entirely wrong in his assumption, because the very second that Elizaveta had fled the seen, the class was swarming around him, making obnoxious noises and giggling.

It only took a grand total of forty seconds before Gilbert was snarling and shoving the insolent pups away from him. They were all in Ludwig's class, so about a year or so younger than him.

And then, of course, there was Ludwig to deal with. His eyes held disapproval, an expression that took quite a surprising stab at Gilbert's conscience. He'd always been the bigger brother to Ludwig, the role model. But he'd disappointed his third brother, and he had a feeling that he wasn't going to live this particular indiscretion down.

Ludwig's mouth was pulled into a tight line, and he glared at Gilbert as the elder made his escape out of the gym. Those red eyes were flooded with desire, still, and his muscles were jumping. It was always difficult for an Alpha to come down off of almost claiming an Omega, though it was rare that they even got to the point of claiming one. Even if the two were being sexually intimate, it was unlikely the Omega would be claimed. A certain attraction was required, and the heat was generally necessary, though it wasn't entirely unheard of to claim an Omega outside of his or her heat, as Gilbert had almost done.

When he reached his class, he got the receiving look of knowledge that Francis generally held whenever someone was late to a class. The blond Frenchman would know, nine out of ten times he was the one who was late because of escapades with an Omega or Beta somewhere out in one of the numerous classrooms and broom closets of the school.

Gilbert huffily took his seat, and glared at the teacher, just daring the Beta Male to say something about his tardiness. Wisely, the man swallowed and just resumed his lesson, though his eyes kept flicking back to the angry albino shifting moodily and uncomfortably in the back row.

He was sitting next to Francis, who was more than eager to know what had gone on between Eliza and his Prussian friend.

A note slid onto his desk.

Mon ami, it read, I smell passion on your skin. Pray tell, what happened between yourself and the lovely Elizaveta?

Gilbert would never understand how in hell Francis was able to fit so much on one measly little slice of paper, but he did know that it was always annoying to try and respond on the same sheet.

Stay out of it, Franzose. Was his response. He was not in the mood to talk about his near loss of control, nor his immediate frustration and anger at having not obtained what he'd wanted. He could still taste Elizaveta's skin, the sweet smell of her sweat and its conflicting salty taste. Her form still slid along the pads of his fingers, soft and supple, but lean with muscle that only sword fighting could give.

Ah, you know me. It is impossible for moi to stay out of affairs considering l'amour.

Thoroughly exasperated, Gilbert, sketched down a messy, clearly frustrated scrawl and shoved it right back under the neighboring blond man's nose.

I almost claimed her, you happy?

An inhale of breath was his only response, silence, and then the furious scribbling of pen that was being pressed much too hard on a thin paper on top of a wooden desk.

How did it feel? How did she taste? What was it like? Are you all right? You are incredibly stupid, you do know that, right, mon ami? You are dumb and tactless and totally lucky. Tu es un idiot.

Gilbert crumpled up the note in retort to Francis's nosiness and chucked it unerringly into the trashcan. The teacher rose an eyebrow at his insolence, to which he had at least the decency to give an apologetic shrug of his shoulders, but nothing more. He was still in an Alpha after all, and that meant that he was technically of a higher rank than the Beta attempting to teach them about sex.

Like they didn't already know.

As the clock crawled closer to the end of the period, Gilbert readied himself to escape. He hadn't brought anything to class with him, but he needed to rocket towards the door the second that bell lets out its piercing wail so that he could avoid the insatiable curiosity of one of his best friends. And it was going to have to take quite a burst of speed, because Francis was faster than him, unfairly so.

So when the bell peeled down the halls, splitting the doors open like orange slices, Gilbert made a break for it.

And he totally underestimated just how damned fast Francis was, because the minute he got out of his seat, he was being captured between two unforgiving sets of arms, both belonging to his best friends, and spirited off to their go to meeting place, a hidden room that could be found behind a pile of bricks by the outer wall of the school. Neither of them knew why no one else had discovered it just yet, but no one really questioned it.

So, as Gilbert was thrown inside of the room, none-too-gracefully either, he shot glares, eyes bright and haloed, at his friends, cursing himself for forgetting entirely about Antonio, who had evidently been sitting just in front of them. How else would Francis have been able to get a hold of the Spaniard?

"Spill," commanded his French friend, who was perching himself elegantly on top of a pile of bricks that had spilled into the room. Antonio chose to lean against the wall, arms crossed and green eyes strangely intense in the darker gloom.

Sighing, Gilbert resigned himself to his fate, and situated himself more comfortably on the patch of wooden floor that he'd been thrown on before beginning his tale.

By the time he'd finished telling what had happened, both Antonio's and Francis's eyes were wide and incensed.

"What are you going to do, Gil? She can't swordfight. That's against the law," said Francis, earnest and concerned, and at the same time, agitated.

"Francis is right," spoke Antonio, "we have to turn this in, Gilbert. She cannot fight with swords, that is an Alpha ability," and Gilbert promptly bristled in response.

"No! Don't you dare tell anyone, Antonio, or I swear, I will not hesitate to tell them about Lovino," a sharp growl ripped out of Antonio's throat at the threat, his eyes seeming to get clearer, and piercing.

"Very well, mi amigo," spat Antonio, "but do not think that I won't be watching her. If she does anything else that goes against the law, I will turn her family in," and with that, he whirled around, and slid out of the room, leaving the taste of anger and defensiveness curling through the air.

Francis let out a dramatic sigh. "Why must you always act that way around him? Antonio never means any harm. He is simply being honest, Gilbert. If the government finds out about her, they are going to find out that you didn't report it. They are going to find out that none of us reported it. Is it worth getting in trouble over?"

He left that question hanging in the air as he too left the little room, leaving Gilbert to think about what he'd just threatened Antonio with. Antonio, his friend. Groaning, Gilbert slammed his head back against the brick that he was leaning against. Of course he had to yell at one of his best friends over a stupid Omega.

Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he made to rise before realizing that a pair of green eyes were peering in at him.

They blinked slowly before their owner moved further into the room, and Gilbert's heart fell. It wasn't Elizaveta. On the contrary, it was probably one of the last people he wanted to see at the moment.

Arthur Kirkland smiled at him from across the room, the light still illuminating one half of his body. Eventually, he slid the rest of the way in and occupied the seat that Francis had just vacated, though with a touch less grace.

"I can see the disappointment, Gilbert." He said finally, the British accent flavoring each word with propriety.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at Arthur.

"I can understand that I might not be as attractive as a certain Miss Héderváry, but it would certainly be in your best interests to treat the person who can ruin Elizaveta's little life with a touch more kindness, wouldn't you agree?"

Gilbert had never really contemplated just how evil Arthur could be, but he understood his mistake now.

"Why would you threaten the awesome me?" he scoffed, shrugging on his falsely confident exterior as if it were a costume, and meeting Arthur's eyes with a savage defiance.

"Why would I threaten you? No reason, I just want to make sure that you are aware of the fact that I can threaten you, and I will not hesitate to do so." Arthur smiled, something confusing, because there wasn't all hatred, or violence, or malevolence in that smile. There was indecision, concern, and distraction there as well. And it intrigued Gilbert.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, just get away from me," he said, trying to play things off as if he were disinterested.

Arthur watched him for a moment before leaving, the lines of tension in his shoulders visibly lessening as he stepped away from the room, something that did not pass Gilbert's observant gaze.

Not long after Arthur's entrance and consequent exit, Gilbert took his own leave. He'd missed the entirety of the last period of the day, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was going to be more than in for it when he got home, and the last thing he really wanted to deal with was Coach Berwald, with that scary glare of his. He never did seem to be entirely capable of getting his thoughts across either, only grunting in acquiescence or disagreement to any number of the stupid questions Gilbert, Antonio, or Francis would ask.

And so, as the final school bell rang, and the other students washed in waves out of the doors, he began to pick through the crowd, searching for the brown haired Hungarian that he had been pinning to the weapons room floor not but two hours ago.

His nose picked her out first, that musk that he had been so close to and surrounded in; that scent that was now layered with a healthy band of his own smell, cloaking her in its folds and claiming her as his for the time being.

Smirking, he made his way through the crowd, moving closer to the oblivious Elizaveta. She was chatting obligingly to a black-haired, spectacled boy who had a rather prominent mole on his chin. A curl arced spectacularly away from his head, and Gilbert vaguely recognized him from when Francis had introduced him to the group of them. He was a Beta, and Austrian, and had lain with each member of the trio at one point or another. Gilbert would never acknowledge that he had messed with a male Beta, it was almost embarrassing, but it had happened. And apparently it wasn't a particularly memorable thing to him, if not remembering the boy's name was anything to go by.

Narrowing his eyes, he slung an arm around Elizaveta's waist upon reaching her, tugging her possessively into his side even as he felt her begin to struggle against him. His grip tightened, and he whispered warningly in her ear.

"Easy there, my little sword fighter. Wouldn't want the government to know too much, now would we?" he purred, tracing his lips along the shell of her ear before turning his ruby gaze to Eliza's company.

"And just who would you be?" he said blithely, choosing to not even try to remember the Omega's name, though an underlying threat lay in his words. The boy paled but he, remarkably, stood his ground.

"My name is Roderich," he said, in a haughty, arching tone that made Gilbert want to claw his ears off.

"Great, bye then Roderich," he said hurriedly and tugged Elizaveta away. She waved goodbye to her friend and allowed Gilbert to continue to lead her until they got to the edge of the schoolyard.

Within seconds, the warm form of Elizaveta was wrenched away from his grasp, and he had to grudgingly respect how much effort that had probably taken the young Hungarian Omega to do, especially this close to her heat.

"What do you want, Gilbert," she grumbled, a hand surreptitiously moving to cover the bite mark he'd left on her shoulder.

A low chuckle escaped him, "You don't need to hide that from me, Eliza," he murmured, his hand reaching out to twine their fingers together and pull hers away from her neck. "I was the one who created it after all."

Elizaveta blessed him with a glare and furiously yanked her hand from his. "Would you stop touching me?" she snapped, taking a couple of steps back. "Now why are you here?"

Gilbert did not appreciate her tone with him, the way she was trying to order him to do something rubbed completely against his Alpha side.

A growl rumbled, low and warningly, through his chest. "Elizaveta, I suggest not using that tone around me," he warned her slowly, his fingers curling back around her wrist and tugging her back against his chest. "Remember, darling, you are an Omega, and I am an Alpha. Don't forget our society, just because you can use a sword does not mean that you can order me about," he knew that he'd been perhaps a bit too harsh, but everything he'd been taught since he was young went against her attitude around him. He couldn't allow her to be like this, not in his presence anyway.

Glaring, Elizaveta found herself both frustratingly bothered and attracted to his tone, that warning voice. Growling, she shook her head and tried to move against him, tugging backwards with as much of her strength as she could muster.

Gilbert felt Eliza's muscles cord beneath his fingers, her fingers pressing over the cloth of his shirt and against his skin, and a rather evil thought passed through his mind. Smirking, he let her go, watching as she stumbled back, her eyes shooting wide before narrowing into pinpoints of anger.

"What was that for?" she cried, suddenly snatching forward to slap Gilbert.

He grit his teeth, holding back from an equally enraged response. "Well, you wanted to be let go, didn't you? Now come along, Dummkopf, I'm taking you home. We can't have you alone this close to your heat, nein?" he murmured, his pale hair shining brilliantly in the direct light of the sun.

It would be impossible for Elizaveta not to see the logic behind his reasoning. She may hate him, but that didn't mean that she was totally against understanding him. Or, though she'd never openly admit it, that she was well aware of how attractive he was. Those red eyes seemed to notice everything, his skin was soft, laying over pads of muscle, that white blond hair shining in any light that was reflected upon it and delivering a portion of it back to its source. He was gorgeous, and dangerous, and strong, and dominant all at once. It drew her in.

"Very well, but don't touch me," she warned, turning on her heel to stalk away from him, her skirt whirling tantalizingly about her body and clinging to the curve of her hips just long enough for Gilbert to appreciate it.

Laughing, he followed after her, ignoring her warning and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. It was a gesture influenced largely by the fact that she was an Omega in preheat, which made Alphas automatically consider the idea that protection was necessary for the fragile beings.

And so he accompanied her to her house, managing to strike up a reasonable conversation with her about how her Omega classes were going. These moments of respite were few and far between, but they existed. It wasn't until they got to her front door that he realized the slight problem they were going to have to be dealing with.

"Ehm, Elizaveta," he said carefully, releasing her to run a nervous hand through his hair, his red eyes shifting anywhere but at the bitemark at her neck. "How are your parents going to react when they see that claim shining upon your pretty little neck?"

She seemed to wilt at the thought. "Well, that is something I can deal with myself, thank you," she said, remaining strong, despite the insecurity in her eyes.

Swallowing, Gilbert shook his head. "No, the awesome me did this. I will tell your parents that that is my awesome mark." It was fairly obvious to anyone who would have been watching that he was forcing this confidence onto himself.

Before either of them could argue the point further, the door swung open. There stood Elizaveta's father, her mother standing just behind her. Elizaveta looked at the Alpha of her family, the woman who had sired her, and she bowed her head, feeling the disapproving glare rolling through those rocky brown eyes. She could smell the younger Alpha's scent on her daughter, and she did not approve of this way of going about things. Her mate, a female Omega who looked very similar to Elizaveta, was covering her mouth in shock, gazing at her daughter with an almost disappointed expression. Elizaveta shrunk down further.

It took Gilbert about two seconds to step in front of the Omega he'd taken a liking to, gazing calmly and challengingly into the eye's of the Alpha standing before him. "I would like to speak with you in private," he spoke unshakingly, understanding that it was highly likely that Elizaveta's parents would deny him his request, especially after this tiny issue. It wasn't against the law to mark an Omega before officially mating them, it was rather common, in fact. But it still was considered a little rude to do so without asking the parents of the Omega, whether the parents are both Betas or if they are Omega and Beta, or Alpha and Beta, or Alpha and Omega. There was no exception to this expectation.

With a judgmental look, a slight nod of the head was all he got in response from Elizaveta's father, and he was soon being gestured into the house.

This was probably a thousand times worse than talking to Ludwig would have been, and not for the first time, Gilbert cursed his arrogant ass, and his unfailing capability to throw himself headlong into situations that would get him in trouble.

With a deep breath, he stepped inside.

Alrighty! I have ended this lovely chapter on a reasonably okay note, right?

Please look at the poll on my profile! And I promise that we will have some Franada and UKUS action to squeal over soon! And maybe some DenNor as well. So yay! Celebration, non?

Until sometime this week, my beautiful readers.