-It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah.-
Hallelujah; Leonard Cohen
-Hetalia-
They never did set a time to meet. To be fair, they had been a little too preoccupied with escaping the wrath of a busty woman and her precious manager, which may or may not have been Gilbert's fault, but the fact remained that no one knew when to show up. Thankfully, this thought occurred to Alfred.
At four in the morning.
Which Gilbert knew because the American, in a typical display of his oblivious tendencies, called the albino.
At four in the morning.
Needless to say, Alfred wasn't Gilbert's favorite person at four in the morning. The good news was that the posh grunt he could hear over the line implied Arthur was in agreement with him. Unlike Alfred, they actually slept at night, or at least they did when the American wasn't calling them at – need he emphasize it further? – four in the morning.
It seemed this time Matthew wasn't exempt from the rude awakening either; Gilbert could hear some mutterings in what was probably French in the background of Alfred's side of the three-way call. He could sympathize; his English wasn't available in this sleepy state either. Even Arthur failed to express himself, apparently reverting to Caveman.
Of course, Alfred was talking a mile a minute too. Gilbert was pretty sure that the American was the only one who knew what was even being said in this one-sided three-way conversation. Vaguely Gilbert wondered just how many energy drinks the blond had consumed to be this awake at this hour.
He focused on waking up, at least enough to communicate in English, rather than listening to what Alfred was rambling about. By the time silence had fallen, he was awake enough to ask a very important question.
"Do you have any fucking idea what time it is right now?"
The "Um..." he received was answer enough.
"It's fucking four in the fucking morning. What the fuck, Alfred?"
Personally, he thought fuck was a very polite word, given the circumstances. He was only keeping his cursing to a minimum because he didn't want to wake up Ludwig. That, and his Vulgar English was still half-asleep, and as much fun as it would be to cuss them all out in German, it lost its effect when they had no clue what he was saying.
"Oh right. Anyway, so what do you think?" Alfred waved aside the complaints as if four in the fucking morning was a perfectly reasonable time to hold this little press conference.
"I think you're a fucking vampire," Gilbert hissed.
"Je ne-er, I mean, I have no idea what you were saying a minute ago," Matthew's voice slipped over the line. It was a bit hard to hear because it was even quieter between his sleepiness and the shitty phone quality.
Gilbert could just picture Alfred blinking in confusion, completely unaware of the fact that he talked faster than was humanly possible. Arthur made a sound that might have been a snore and Gilbert was tempted to imitate him and just go back to sleep. Fuck Alfred and his fucking four am conference calls. If Gilbert knew when the hell it was the blond actually slept, he'd call him and rant in German just to see how he liked waking up to complete insanity.
"I said," Alfred started, and Gilbert actually heard him suck in the deep breath he'd need to start rambling, "I was sitting here thinking about what I'd have to move around in the garage for us to be able to practice in there and then I realized you guys will have to bring your own amps because we don't have any but we do have a mic and a stand because my parents used to sing karaoke when I was a kid before Mom ran off with that guy from the Philippines and actually I don't really remember it that much but I know where the mic is so we're good on that and my drum set's already in the garage 'cause that's the only place it'd fit so that's where we keep it and then I was thinking about how bands have their logos on the drums and I was thinking we should totally do that but then I remembered we don't have a logo and we don't even have a name yet and I thought why not and then I remembered we didn't get to that because we had to run out of the store because of the French-fry-boob-thing and I remembered that we didn't agree on a time for us to actually meet up here tomorrow so I thought I'd ask you guys and see when we're all free so we can get together and do this thing. So what time do you think is good?"
Gilbert was proud of the fact that he hadn't just hung up on the American and gone back to sleep. It took a lot of self-restraint. Granted, he had tuned out most of the ramble about drum sets and Filipino heartbreakers, but he understood the question at the end.
"I don't care, as long as it isn't four am," he growled.
"I'll be back from the shelter around noon," Matthew added with a yawn. Gilbert heard rustling and assumed the Canadian had curled back under the covers.
"One, then," Arthur said definitively and the click on the line announced his hanging up. That was that, then.
"Okay, so we'll start practice at one then?" Alfred tried to confirm. Rather than answering him, Gilbert just hung up.
It was four in the fucking morning for Christ's sake.
-H-
Nine in the morning wasn't much better. As a matter of fact, nine in the morning sucked just as much ass as four in the morning did, and Gilbert wasted no time in telling Ludwig so. Ludwig just told him not to make four am phone calls anymore if that was how he felt.
Heartless bastard.
The younger brother informed him that they were low on food stuffs, so he was stealing – he said borrowing but Gilbert knew better – his car to go shopping. Gilbert was expected to be awake when Ludwig returned so he could help carry in the groceries, and he wasn't to play his guitar because people were sleeping.
Imagine that. Wanting to sleep at nine in the morning.
Gilbert wasn't really a big fan of irony. He was a fan of sarcasm, though, and he decided to be a loving older brother and share some of his treasured sarcasm with Ludwig as the blond left the apartment. Ludwig didn't seem to appreciate it all that much. Not that Gilbert cared when he was too busy falling back asleep.
-H-
The ringing of the phone woke Gilbert not long afterward.
He assumed, at least, it hadn't been long, because Ludwig wasn't back yet, and it felt like he'd only slept for around three seconds, though it may have been four. Gilbert was starting to consider disconnecting the phone, if this was how he was going to be waking up from now on.
"Hallo?" he grunted as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes for the third time that day.
"Hello, Gilbert," Roderich's voice came over the line. Gilbert smirked.
"Booty calls are usually made at night, aren't they?" he taunted. He could just hear the Austrian getting all indignant. How entertaining.
"For your information, this is hardly a...call of that nature," Roddy hissed, and Gilbert could hear the sounds of people in the background. He was tempted to play 'make Specs say something vulgar in English and embarrass him in front of his peers,' but that game took a level of awake-ness that he didn't currently posses.
"Whatever kind of nature calls, you might wanna take that to a restroom, Priss," Gilbert said. Roderich made a rather entertaining sound.
"Would you just listen to me?" he demanded.
"Ja, ja, what is it already?" Gilbert glanced at the clock and saw it was almost eleven. Ludwig would be back soon, then.
"Are you busy this evening?"
"So it's a preemptive booty call," Gilbert cackled.
"Gilbert!" Roderich hissed. "This is about Elizaveta."
"You're booty calling for her?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Honestly, Specs was just too easy to mess with. It almost took the fun out of taunting him. Almost. But not really.
"Her flight is tonight and she needs a ride. Can you take her or should I have called someone more reliable?"
Gilbert wasn't sure what Roderich was talking about for a minute or so, until he remembered a conversation the three of them had roughly a month ago. "Oh, ja, her Polish boyfriend or whatever." He nodded. "What time does her Royal Demonic Highness demand a ride?"
"He's not her boyfriend," Roderich said tersely. Gilbert snorted in response, nearly missing the added "They're just pen-pals." Roderich took a moment to clear his head from the irritation Gilbert was causing. "She needs to be there by eight tonight, and this is important, so please refrain from being an utter waste of human space for once and actually make yourself useful."
"You first," Gilbert said. When Roderich made an especially angry sound, Gilbert continued quickly. "Ja, ja, eight, sure. You're too busy playing with your keyboard to take her, right?"
"I have a rehearsal," Roddy said through gritted teeth. Gilbert rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. I'll take her, so calm your tits, Priss. Speaking of which, about that booty call..."
"Goodbye, Gilbert," the Austrian said quickly before a click signified his hanging up. Gilbert shrugged and put the phone back, preparing to curl up under the blankets and get in a few more minutes of sleep.
Unfortunately, Ludwig saw that moment as his sign to return.
-H-
By the time twelve thirty arrived, Gilbert had given up on getting anymore sleep. He ignored Ludwig's questions of "Where are you going?", "When will you be back?" and "Why are you taking the guitar?", only saying "I'm taking the car," as he grabbed his keys and left with his guitar and amp.
Alfred lived too far away for Gilbert's taste. It didn't help that the American's house was relatively close to the town's pool, either, because the traffic stretched nearly the entire span of roads between the hotel and the Jones's home. By the time he finally made it through the endless lines of families trying to find relief from the heat in a public bathtub, it was obvious by the sheer number of cars in the driveway that Gilbert was the last to arrive. The garage door was raising as he put his car into park, and soon Alfred could be seen, waiting for the albino to come in.
Inside Arthur sat on a massive cardboard box labeled Misc. in messy handwriting, while Matthew was fidgeting with the cords of a microphone. Alfred pointed Gilbert to an outlet and went to the corner to press the switch that would shut the garage door once more.
Gilbert turned back to the others once he'd set up his amp and noticed Matthew shifting oddly back and forth.
"Hey, Birdie, what's up with you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd seen that kind of stance before from Alfred, generally after a rough fight with Ivan. There was no way Matthew had gotten into a fistfight with a chipper Russian, what with hockey season being over, but clearly something had handed his ass to him.
"Hm?" Matthew blinked, meeting Gilbert's eyes. They stared at one another for a moment before Matthew apparently read his mind. He was good at that, as Gilbert had learned over the years. "Oh, a new retriever we got..." he confessed, shrugging a shoulder and unbuttoning his plaid shirt to reveal an ace-bandage covered torso.
"Jeez, what the hell went down between you two?" Gilbert asked, coming closer for a better look.
"Apparently, the dog thought Matthew smelled threatening," Arthur answered as Matthew re-buttoned his shirt.
"He just wasn't used to so many strangers," Matthew said.
"You should have seen him when he got home," Alfred pitched in, coming over to join them. "Seriously, dude, how did you walk home like that?"
"It wasn't that bad," Matthew mumbled.
"Your stomach looks like raw hamburger!"
"Everything looks like hamburger to you," Arthur said. Alfred ignored him.
"I hope it doesn't scar, though," Matthew murmured, shifting uncomfortably to try and find a position that didn't sting so much.
"Nah, you'd look awesome with a few scars." Gilbert smirked at him.
"I don't think so," Matthew said, a weak smile forming on his face just the same.
"Alright dudes, band practice is officially in session," Alfred said. Arthur stood up from his box and Gilbert slipped his guitar strap over his shoulder, walking back to his place. Matthew fidgeted with the microphone's cord again.
"First things first, what are we gunna call ourselves?" Alfred asked. The four boys looked back and forth between themselves. No one seemed to have a good answer.
"Well, what do we have in common?" Matthew prompted.
"We're all dudes," Alfred said, while Gilbert offered the slightly less obvious "We're all awesome."
"None of us can get any sleep so long as we're acquainted with Alfred," Arthur said, turning to frown at the blond. Alfred laughed.
"We're all from different countries," Matthew offered.
Arthur's phone rang and he excused himself to answer it, stepping a bit away from them.
"Gil and I both like eagles," Alfred said, brining a finger to his lip as he thought.
"We're not the same ages, and Mattie's a virgin," Gilbert said. He could only think of differences.
"Hey, what does that have to do with anything!" Matthew protested, flushing bright red. "And Al is too!" Gilbert laughed as the blond thrust an accusing finger at his step-brother.
Arthur's phone call turned into a heated argument of some kind, and the boys quieted down, turning to look at their friend with grim faces.
"What's your bet, Gil?" Alfred asked under his breath, nodding to the angry Brit. Gilbert watched Arthur's expressions for a moment, taking in the tense shoulders and defiant look in his eyes.
"Scott."
"I'm voting Owen," Alfred said. They watched Arthur become progressively angrier until he finally hung up with a huff and shoved his cell into his pocket.
After a moment, Matthew gently asked "What was that about?"
Arthur sighed and shook his head.
"Scott called to harass me about something stupid."
Gilbert smirked at Alfred with an 'I told you so' air while Arthur muttered "Damn half-brothers," under his breath. Gilbert clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, West's been a real pain in the ass lately too."
"That's it!" Alfred shouted. Matthew jumped a little at the sudden sound, and Gilbert snickered at him. The kid was really cute sometimes.
"What is?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"We've all got problems with our brothers," Alfred explained. Matthew gave Alfred a confused look for a long moment before realization spread across his features.
"Oh, you mean because of Carlos?" he asked.
"Yeah, that dude keeps smacking you 'cause he can't tell us apart. Jerk," Alfred muttered as an after thought.
"That's more of a problem with him, though, not with you and I being brothers," Matthew said. Alfred waved him off.
"It's close enough!"
"So, what, we call ourselves "The Awesome Dudes with Brother Related Problems?" Not really all that catchy," Gilbert snorted.
"Perhaps, but what about something that sounds a little edgier?" Arthur said. The other three stared at him in confusion.
"Like...what, exactly? Did you come up with a name while Scott was shouting at you?" Alfred asked.
"...Complex?" Matthew guessed, a smile starting to spread across his face. Alfred looked between Arthur and Matthew, completely lost, as per usual. Gilbert, however, was starting to get it.
"Brother Complex?" he asked. "Sounds kinda twisted."
"Which makes it perfect, doesn't it?" Arthur smirked.
"So, our name will be Brother Complex?" Alfred asked.
"Ja, got a problem with that?"
"Nah, I think it's good," Alfred grinned. "Brother Complex it is."
"Right, now that that's solved, we have a few more things to work out, you know," Arthur said.
"Like what?"
"Well for one, who will be writing our songs? Can any of you even write lyrics, or compose music?"
"I can," Gilbert and Alfred answered in sync. Arthur looked between them for a moment.
"Er, no offense mate, but I think I'd rather leave that up to Gilbert." Gilbert smirked. Alfred huffed and crossed his arms, a pout beginning to form.
"Al, you can do our posters and logo design, eh?" Matthew offered, biting his lip as he tried to appease the American. Alfred brightened up considerably, giving Gilbert a headache with how quickly he shifted gears.
"I suppose I'd be the best one of us to manage the band as a whole," Arthur added. Matthew nodded in agreement.
"So now we need songs, right?" Alfred grinned.
"I've got a few unfinished pieces," Gilbert offered. "We could use them for the band and work on them now, if you want." The others nodded in agreement and moved to their respective instruments. Gilbert began playing a few chords he'd put together a month or so ago.
"Hold on, start that again," Arthur said after a moment. Gilbert began again and Arthur added in his own notes. Alfred picked up a beat and the four of them grinned as a song began to form in their midst. It was awkward and clumsy, slightly disproportionate and off beat, but it was an obvious beginning. Matthew started humming along with the music, softly at first, slowly gaining confidence, and before Gilbert knew it, the shy Canadian was stringing together words and writing a chorus out of thin air. It was a fairly good one, too, for being pulled out of his ass like that. There were some awkward stops, but all together Gilbert had to consider Matthew a natural.
Watching the others work together with him in harmony, Gilbert noticed this was the most free he'd seen any of them in a long time. He'd actually almost never seen Matthew let loose the way the blond was now. He was even dancing just a little bit, swaying to the music and adding in a few steps of his own. A perfect lead. Gilbert grinned. He couldn't wait to get this kid on a stage.
A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with this story. I apologize for this chapter's end – it's not really the best, but it's where things wound down for me. If it's any consolation, this chapter's nearly twice as long as the others. Plus there's some legitimate basis for the M rating now, and not just the promise of future escapades. (It's possible that I'm just having too much fun writing Gilbert. Ahaha ha ha... sorry.)
Thanks again to Hornet394 for betaing this story. It's greatly appreciated.
The song was really hard to pick this time around, but I hope I made the right choice. I feel like I spent more time searching for a song than writing.
I can almost get through Alfred's massive run-on paragraph in one breath. Almost.
As for Elizaveta's Polish pen-pal/boyfriend (whichever you want to believe), there's historical basis for that. 1,000 years of it, actually. I promised allegories, after all. This is only the beginning.
A fun question to ask yourself: Is Gilbert suggesting booty calls to taunt Roddy, or does he have his own basis for those claims?
Finally, on Scott and Owen. I don't know if those are the widely accepted names for those two (are they even official characters?), but they're the ones I found when writing this chapter. Though Scott is perhaps a nickname... (As I got more into the character, long after this chapter was published, I've begun to favor the name Alistair.)
It was four am when I first posted this chapter. That pleases me.
Translations for this chapter:
Je ne-: French; I d- (Note: Matthew was about to say 'Je ne sais pas,' but he corrected himself into English. 'Je ne sais pas,' is French fro 'I don't know,' but to make things negative in French, you need both 'ne' and 'pas', so there isn't really a literal translation for this.)
Hallo: German; Hello.
Ja, ja: German; Yes, yes. (see previous notes on Gilbert's usage of ja)
Ja: German; Yes.
I really ought to sleep now, so thank you very much for reading this story. I hope you're enjoying it.
~VV