The Life and Times of Saint Gilbert, Patron of Awesomeness (1/?)
Title: The Life and Times of Saint Gilbert, Patron of Awesomeness
Rating: T
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt does not have a perfect life, far from it. But he's going to make the best of it and raise Hell while he does it. Awesomeness is as Awesomeness does, after all.
Warnings: Catholic!Bad Friends Trio being terrible at being Catholic, violence, alternate universes, Prussia is secretly smarter than he looks and is the most sane man (surprisingly), cursing, France's wandering hands
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Gilbert knew he wasn't the greatest Catholic. Hell, he was probably way down the list, maybe a few steps above Lucifer or something. He cursed all the time, he could drink anyone under the table (except maybe that Finnish kid named Tino), and he sort of might have slept his way through half the female population at his school then about a quarter of all the gay men. The priests at Confession had basically resigned themselves to listening Gilbert guiltily talking for three hours or more. It had simply become a Fact of Life. In his defense, Gilbert always felt bad at Confession and in Mass, with Saint Mary looking down at him with a disappointed look to her eyes. But then the instant he stepped out of that cathedral, he'd be right back at being himself, pestering his cousin Roderich and spray-painting the Prussian flag onto the school's walls.
At least he wasn't as bad as Francis, with his nymphomania, or his other friend Antonio, who was, to put it nicely, fucking insane. He loved his friends though and wouldn't trade them for the world. Who else would shave off Arthur Kirkland's eyebrows while he slept or steal Berwald's glasses and then later run from the Swede and his suddenly scary boyfriend/"wife" with Gilbert? They made the perfect team, with Gilbert planning, Antonio setting up, them all putting it into action, and Francis seducing the female principal into letting them off easy. They had terrorized the school system for years, and even had a fucking amazing nickname: The Bad Friends Trio. Teachers quivered, hall monitors fainted, and policemen cried at their very name. But sometimes being the school Hell-raisers sucked when Francis' French ways failed to get them off. Like now.
Detention sucked balls, Gilbert decided as he sat at the very front desk, with Mr. Zwingli keeping a hawk's eye on him. Francis sat in one corner with Antonio in the other, with no chance of getting away with whispering or passing notes to each other. Mr. Zwingli slapped his heavy metal ruler into his palm over and over again, his fingers twitching like he wanted to smack the three juniors in the head with it. Gilbert stared off into space, not wanting to piss off the detention monitor and AP Economics teacher who also spent his weekends at the firing range and most likely sneaked several guns onto the school's grounds. He could dimly hear Antonio doodle onto a scrap piece of paper and Francis rolling a cap eraser around his desk. The clock was loud in the silence, the second hand beating a steady beat into Gilbert's mind as it ticked around the clock face. Gilbert was pretty sure his eyes were glazed over with the soul-crushing weight of absolute boredom. Ludwig was going to be so pissed when he got home. He should've been home two hours ago, but his phone had been broken in an unfortunate meeting with Lovino Vargas and his damn kick honed by years of football practice, so Ludwig didn't know Gilbert had detention.
Damn that Italian. Gilbert couldn't even get him back because Antonio would go all scary as shit on him. He didn't know why Antonio was so obsessed with that angry little bundle of tripwires and hot buttons. Antonio was so damn protective of him like Lovino was his goddamn property. It was damn confusing having a friend that was all rainbows and sunshine one moment and ax-crazy and bloodthirsty the next. He guessed it was part of his charm, his friend's schizophrenia.
The clock's hour hand struck the six. Mr. Zwingli scowled at it, as if the clock had done him a great disservice. He stopped slapping the ruler against his palm reluctantly and walked over to the door, opening it.
"Get the hell out of my classroom, you delinquents. Next time, think twice about dying Im Yong Soo's hair neon pink or I'll personally make it my mission to have you expelled rather than a cushy two-hour detention," the blond Swiss snapped, a fierce glare on his face.
"Finally!" Gilbert cried, hands flinging up into the air. Francis rose out of his chair like he was a cat, all smooth and suave. Antonio jumped from his desk, tucking his doodled-on paper into his pocket. He bounced towards Francis and the door, whistling.
"Ah, so nice to be free, eh?" asked Francis, stretching his arms and legs and still somehow looking classy. He broke the illusion when he started to grope at Antonio's ass, Antonio oblivious as always.
Mr. Zwingli was infamous for having a hair-trigger temper along with trigger-happy fingers, and his patience had already been sucked thin from doing nothing for two hours. Mr. Zwingli practically snarled and his right hand twitched towards his left side of his chest, right where a shoulder holster would be hidden. "I said get out! Out! Oud! Oud!" he yelled, his accent becoming stronger as he became angrier.
Gilbert yelped as Mr. Zwingli slashed at his head with his metal ruler, his arms rising up to protect his cranium. "Damn it! We're leaving, we're leaving!" He ran out of the classroom, arms still held protectively as his friends followed after him.
"I vetter nod see youv dree andy dime soon!" Mr. Zwingli yelled. "Undersdand?"
"Yes, we fucking goddamn understand!" Gilbert shouted back. The trio ran out of the school into the streets, not wanting to see if Mr. Zwingli was chasing after them. Once they reached Mola Street they stopped, breathing heavily.
Antonio recovered first. "That was fun! It was just like Pamplona during the Running of the Bulls~" he said. "This was good practice."
"Only you, Toni," Gilbert wheezed out. "Fucking crazy." Antonio simply smiled in return, his breath now even.
"I think this was enough excitement for one day, oui?" Francis said finally. He straightened out, brushing back his long, blond locks. "I think it would be best if we go on home."
Gilbert inhaled deeply. "Yeah, sure. If you insist." He turned towards Bismark Street and started to head down it. "See you on Monday!" he shouted back and listened to his friend's goodbyes. He hugged his blue uniform jacket close to him to ward off the early spring chill as he trotted down the quiet road. His house came into view, a two-story with white painted walls and a perfectly-groomed lawn. Gilbert went up the walkway, using his latch key to let himself in.
He winced as the door creaked open, announcing his arrival. Dammit, Ludwig must've heard that. Loud footsteps came from the stairs and a irritated sandy-haired German's head popped out. Oh, he had heard.
"Brother. In case you didn't notice, you are late," Ludwig bit out, his fingers tightening on the stair rail.
"Aw, Ludwig, give me a break. I got detention and I would've called you but Vargas broke my phone and--" Gilbert started but was cut off by Ludwig's furious glare.
"You were supposed to be home exactly two hours and thirteen minutes ago! Do you see how unacceptable that is? What if someone broke in? Mr. Fritz wouldn't have known until he got home at seven thirty! This is entirely irresponsible! You are supposed to be my elder brother yet I act more like an adult than you do!" Ludwig barked, cheeks coloring from anger.
Gilbert hunched in on himself. There was definitely something humiliating about having his thirteen year old brother chew him out. "Look, I'm sorry--"
"Sorry? Sorry? I waited for you for an hour! In the cold! Waiting for my older brother to walk home with me like Mr. Fritz asked us to." Ludwig huffed and crossed his arms. "I hope you realize how much trouble you're in with Mr. Fritz."
"Fritz'll understand, West. C'mon, I would've told you but, again, Vargas broke my cell phone," Gilbert protested.
"Feliciano's brother?" Ludwig asked. "The really angry one who hates me?"
"Lovino's his name. He kicked me in the thigh right where my phone was. Damn kid has the kick force of a horse," Gilbert muttered, rubbing his thigh. "It started to bruise instantly."
Ludwig cocked an eyebrow, not able to get over his anger so easily. "Fine. I'm still mad at you, though."
"When are you not?" Gilbert said under his breath. He walked towards the kitchen, reaching over his head to shrug off the shoulder strap of his messenger school bag.
"I heard that!" Ludwig snapped. "Don't eat anything, supper will be served soon."
"But I'm hungry now," whined Gilbert. "I need wurst," he proclaimed dramatically.
"Suck it up. You could've had some if you didn't have detention," Ludwig retorted, coming down the stairs to make sure his brother didn't sneak anything from the fridge or cupboards. "What did you do anyway to warrant a detention?"
Sometimes Gilbert thought his brother was a secret robot manchild sent to research humans for the upcoming invasion, since that was Ludwig's personality most of the time. "Me and Toni and Franny dyed Yong Soo's hair pink with some dye we found in Franny's mother's cabinet. Yong Soo was pretty cool about it but then Mr. Wang got pissed and assigned us detention," Gilbert explained as he relaxed against the kitchen counter, settling on his elbows facing Ludwig.
Ludwig sighed. "Why do you insist on making things difficult? Please try to imagine what my higher educational years will be like now that all the teachers fear the last name of 'Beilschmidt'. It's taken me all school year to have the teachers stop hovering around my desk all class period."
Gilbert shrugged. "Just be glad you are related to the awesome me."
"You are impossible," Ludwig growled. He turned back towards the stairs. "Get started on your homework; Mr. Fritz is taking us out to dinner tonight."
"Awesome!" Gilbert cheered, racing past his brother and taking the stairs three at a time. He ignored his brother's barb of 'Is food the only thing that matters to you?' and he slammed his door shut to cut him off.
Gilbert's room was, in his words, totally fucking awesome. The room was done in black and white, with German band posters on the walls and three bookshelves stuffed with journals of every width and color rested against them. A twin bed with a black duvet sat shoved into a corner with papers strewn all over it. A bird cage rested on a desk next to a dusty Bible, a small yellow chick nestled inside it. Gilbert strode over the bird cage and took out the bird, cooing at it.
"How is my amazing little killer attack chick? How is my little Gilbird?" he gushed, nuzzling the small avian. Gilbird cheeped and flew from his hands to nest inside his white locks of hair. Gilbert smiled. "I see you are doing fucking amazing. Not that I expected no less from an awesome chick that belonged to such an awesome owner."
"Piyo!"
"Fuck, you're adorable."
Ludwig's voice wafted through the closed door. "Mr. Fritz said no cursing in the house!"
"Fine, goddammit!" Gilbert shouted back. "Stop eavesdropping!"
"You're talking to a chicken! It's basically you talking to yourself and trying to seem less crazy!" Ludwig yelled. "Now shut up so I can finish my homework!"
"Fine, you brat!" Gilbert stuck his tongue out at the door and went over to his school bag. ...Which he had left down in the kitchen. Aw, fuck it, he'd do it later; it would take to much work to go downstairs. So instead Gilbert went over to the bookshelf over by the window and withdrew a slim red journal, his latest one. He went over to his desk, withdrew a pen from a holder and flopped down onto the bed, Gilbird fluttering a bit in indignation.
"Sorry girl," he murmured, putting his pen to an empty page and began to write.
Dear Journal,
I was so awesome today when me and my friends got that Korean kid good....
Gilbert was so absorbed in writing that he didn't hear the front door open or Fritz call out that he was home. He didn't hear Fritz walk up the stairs or hear him stop by Ludwig's room and talk to him for a little bit. Gilbert didn't even hear him open his own door and slip quietly inside. He only realized that he wasn't alone when Fritz sat down beside him and grab his shoulder.
"GAAAAHHHHH-- Oh, it's you, Fritz." Gilbert sat up and closed his journal. "I didn't know you were home."
One of Fritz's eyebrows rose, a thin, elegant gray arch. "Oh, really? What with all that noise I was making?"
Gilbert flushed. "It's not my fault that you're like a ninja or something. You got skills old man."
Fritz laughed. "I'm glad you approve." He quickly sobered up, though. "However, I'm not here to make jokes right now, Gilbert. I heard from Ludwig that you got into trouble again?"
"That little--"
"Gilbert."
The albino teenager slumped against the sheets, ashamed. Fritz's disappointment was crushing and practically tearing away at his insides. He hated making the older man feel that way, hated seeing Fritz's slight wrinkles become crevices, seeing him age ten years with just a few updates about Gilbert.
"...Yes. I got detention. For two hours. I dyed Yong Soo's hair pink."
Fritz sighed. "Gilbert..." He rubbed his forehead. "I thought that you said you were going to behave after the last time."
"I did! It's just that-- I mean-- ...I tried, Fritz. I really did. I just..." Gilbert trailed off and bit his lip.
"We can't keep doing this Gilbert. You are this close to being expelled." Fritz held up two fingers to demonstrate. "I just don't understand. You used to be better behaved, but ever since middle school you've been getting into detention after detention, suspension after suspension. The only things that have kept you in St. Hetalia's are your grades and my political weight. I can't protect you forever, Gilbert. It only extends so far for so long." The fifty-eight year old man sagged from an invisible weight.
"I'm sorry, Fritz," he muttered. "I really am."
"I know you are, Gilbert. Just... just try to behave from now on?" Fritz stood up, brushing off his trouser legs. "Clean yourself up, we're going to dinner with Roderich's family tonight."
Gilbert would've complained any other night if he hadn't upset Fritz. "Fine. Let's go eat with Specs."
"Okay. It's a nice restaurant, so no hoodies."
"Yes sir."
Fritz nodded and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Gilbert collapsed against the bed, facing the ceiling and ignoring Gilbird's squawk of discomfort. He hated doing this to his guardian. Absolutely fucking hated it. Fritz was the one true person he unconditionally loved other than Ludwig and himself, the most respected person in Gilbert's seventeen years of existence. Fritz was the best thing he had next to a father. It was almost physically painful to disappoint him, which he did often.
Fritz had adopted them after Ludwig's mother had died in childbirth and their father had flown to pieces. Gilbert had been only four then, so the only memories he had of his father were of a tall, stern fuzzy man. Fritz was the one who had taught him how to fence, how to ride a horse. He had been the one to go to Gilbert's orientations and club functions. He couldn't ask for a more attentive, caring guardian. And yet, and yet...
Gilbert shook his head and shrugged off his jacket and vest, fingers going for his blue crested tie. He had a dinner to get ready for.
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Chapter One of hopefully a completed series. I hope you enjoyed!
Rating: T
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt does not have a perfect life, far from it. But he's going to make the best of it and raise Hell while he does it. Awesomeness is as Awesomeness does, after all.
Warnings: Catholic!Bad Friends Trio being terrible at being Catholic, violence, alternate universes, Prussia is secretly smarter than he looks and is the most sane man (surprisingly), cursing, France's wandering hands
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Gilbert knew he wasn't the greatest Catholic. Hell, he was probably way down the list, maybe a few steps above Lucifer or something. He cursed all the time, he could drink anyone under the table (except maybe that Finnish kid named Tino), and he sort of might have slept his way through half the female population at his school then about a quarter of all the gay men. The priests at Confession had basically resigned themselves to listening Gilbert guiltily talking for three hours or more. It had simply become a Fact of Life. In his defense, Gilbert always felt bad at Confession and in Mass, with Saint Mary looking down at him with a disappointed look to her eyes. But then the instant he stepped out of that cathedral, he'd be right back at being himself, pestering his cousin Roderich and spray-painting the Prussian flag onto the school's walls.
At least he wasn't as bad as Francis, with his nymphomania, or his other friend Antonio, who was, to put it nicely, fucking insane. He loved his friends though and wouldn't trade them for the world. Who else would shave off Arthur Kirkland's eyebrows while he slept or steal Berwald's glasses and then later run from the Swede and his suddenly scary boyfriend/"wife" with Gilbert? They made the perfect team, with Gilbert planning, Antonio setting up, them all putting it into action, and Francis seducing the female principal into letting them off easy. They had terrorized the school system for years, and even had a fucking amazing nickname: The Bad Friends Trio. Teachers quivered, hall monitors fainted, and policemen cried at their very name. But sometimes being the school Hell-raisers sucked when Francis' French ways failed to get them off. Like now.
Detention sucked balls, Gilbert decided as he sat at the very front desk, with Mr. Zwingli keeping a hawk's eye on him. Francis sat in one corner with Antonio in the other, with no chance of getting away with whispering or passing notes to each other. Mr. Zwingli slapped his heavy metal ruler into his palm over and over again, his fingers twitching like he wanted to smack the three juniors in the head with it. Gilbert stared off into space, not wanting to piss off the detention monitor and AP Economics teacher who also spent his weekends at the firing range and most likely sneaked several guns onto the school's grounds. He could dimly hear Antonio doodle onto a scrap piece of paper and Francis rolling a cap eraser around his desk. The clock was loud in the silence, the second hand beating a steady beat into Gilbert's mind as it ticked around the clock face. Gilbert was pretty sure his eyes were glazed over with the soul-crushing weight of absolute boredom. Ludwig was going to be so pissed when he got home. He should've been home two hours ago, but his phone had been broken in an unfortunate meeting with Lovino Vargas and his damn kick honed by years of football practice, so Ludwig didn't know Gilbert had detention.
Damn that Italian. Gilbert couldn't even get him back because Antonio would go all scary as shit on him. He didn't know why Antonio was so obsessed with that angry little bundle of tripwires and hot buttons. Antonio was so damn protective of him like Lovino was his goddamn property. It was damn confusing having a friend that was all rainbows and sunshine one moment and ax-crazy and bloodthirsty the next. He guessed it was part of his charm, his friend's schizophrenia.
The clock's hour hand struck the six. Mr. Zwingli scowled at it, as if the clock had done him a great disservice. He stopped slapping the ruler against his palm reluctantly and walked over to the door, opening it.
"Get the hell out of my classroom, you delinquents. Next time, think twice about dying Im Yong Soo's hair neon pink or I'll personally make it my mission to have you expelled rather than a cushy two-hour detention," the blond Swiss snapped, a fierce glare on his face.
"Finally!" Gilbert cried, hands flinging up into the air. Francis rose out of his chair like he was a cat, all smooth and suave. Antonio jumped from his desk, tucking his doodled-on paper into his pocket. He bounced towards Francis and the door, whistling.
"Ah, so nice to be free, eh?" asked Francis, stretching his arms and legs and still somehow looking classy. He broke the illusion when he started to grope at Antonio's ass, Antonio oblivious as always.
Mr. Zwingli was infamous for having a hair-trigger temper along with trigger-happy fingers, and his patience had already been sucked thin from doing nothing for two hours. Mr. Zwingli practically snarled and his right hand twitched towards his left side of his chest, right where a shoulder holster would be hidden. "I said get out! Out! Oud! Oud!" he yelled, his accent becoming stronger as he became angrier.
Gilbert yelped as Mr. Zwingli slashed at his head with his metal ruler, his arms rising up to protect his cranium. "Damn it! We're leaving, we're leaving!" He ran out of the classroom, arms still held protectively as his friends followed after him.
"I vetter nod see youv dree andy dime soon!" Mr. Zwingli yelled. "Undersdand?"
"Yes, we fucking goddamn understand!" Gilbert shouted back. The trio ran out of the school into the streets, not wanting to see if Mr. Zwingli was chasing after them. Once they reached Mola Street they stopped, breathing heavily.
Antonio recovered first. "That was fun! It was just like Pamplona during the Running of the Bulls~" he said. "This was good practice."
"Only you, Toni," Gilbert wheezed out. "Fucking crazy." Antonio simply smiled in return, his breath now even.
"I think this was enough excitement for one day, oui?" Francis said finally. He straightened out, brushing back his long, blond locks. "I think it would be best if we go on home."
Gilbert inhaled deeply. "Yeah, sure. If you insist." He turned towards Bismark Street and started to head down it. "See you on Monday!" he shouted back and listened to his friend's goodbyes. He hugged his blue uniform jacket close to him to ward off the early spring chill as he trotted down the quiet road. His house came into view, a two-story with white painted walls and a perfectly-groomed lawn. Gilbert went up the walkway, using his latch key to let himself in.
He winced as the door creaked open, announcing his arrival. Dammit, Ludwig must've heard that. Loud footsteps came from the stairs and a irritated sandy-haired German's head popped out. Oh, he had heard.
"Brother. In case you didn't notice, you are late," Ludwig bit out, his fingers tightening on the stair rail.
"Aw, Ludwig, give me a break. I got detention and I would've called you but Vargas broke my phone and--" Gilbert started but was cut off by Ludwig's furious glare.
"You were supposed to be home exactly two hours and thirteen minutes ago! Do you see how unacceptable that is? What if someone broke in? Mr. Fritz wouldn't have known until he got home at seven thirty! This is entirely irresponsible! You are supposed to be my elder brother yet I act more like an adult than you do!" Ludwig barked, cheeks coloring from anger.
Gilbert hunched in on himself. There was definitely something humiliating about having his thirteen year old brother chew him out. "Look, I'm sorry--"
"Sorry? Sorry? I waited for you for an hour! In the cold! Waiting for my older brother to walk home with me like Mr. Fritz asked us to." Ludwig huffed and crossed his arms. "I hope you realize how much trouble you're in with Mr. Fritz."
"Fritz'll understand, West. C'mon, I would've told you but, again, Vargas broke my cell phone," Gilbert protested.
"Feliciano's brother?" Ludwig asked. "The really angry one who hates me?"
"Lovino's his name. He kicked me in the thigh right where my phone was. Damn kid has the kick force of a horse," Gilbert muttered, rubbing his thigh. "It started to bruise instantly."
Ludwig cocked an eyebrow, not able to get over his anger so easily. "Fine. I'm still mad at you, though."
"When are you not?" Gilbert said under his breath. He walked towards the kitchen, reaching over his head to shrug off the shoulder strap of his messenger school bag.
"I heard that!" Ludwig snapped. "Don't eat anything, supper will be served soon."
"But I'm hungry now," whined Gilbert. "I need wurst," he proclaimed dramatically.
"Suck it up. You could've had some if you didn't have detention," Ludwig retorted, coming down the stairs to make sure his brother didn't sneak anything from the fridge or cupboards. "What did you do anyway to warrant a detention?"
Sometimes Gilbert thought his brother was a secret robot manchild sent to research humans for the upcoming invasion, since that was Ludwig's personality most of the time. "Me and Toni and Franny dyed Yong Soo's hair pink with some dye we found in Franny's mother's cabinet. Yong Soo was pretty cool about it but then Mr. Wang got pissed and assigned us detention," Gilbert explained as he relaxed against the kitchen counter, settling on his elbows facing Ludwig.
Ludwig sighed. "Why do you insist on making things difficult? Please try to imagine what my higher educational years will be like now that all the teachers fear the last name of 'Beilschmidt'. It's taken me all school year to have the teachers stop hovering around my desk all class period."
Gilbert shrugged. "Just be glad you are related to the awesome me."
"You are impossible," Ludwig growled. He turned back towards the stairs. "Get started on your homework; Mr. Fritz is taking us out to dinner tonight."
"Awesome!" Gilbert cheered, racing past his brother and taking the stairs three at a time. He ignored his brother's barb of 'Is food the only thing that matters to you?' and he slammed his door shut to cut him off.
Gilbert's room was, in his words, totally fucking awesome. The room was done in black and white, with German band posters on the walls and three bookshelves stuffed with journals of every width and color rested against them. A twin bed with a black duvet sat shoved into a corner with papers strewn all over it. A bird cage rested on a desk next to a dusty Bible, a small yellow chick nestled inside it. Gilbert strode over the bird cage and took out the bird, cooing at it.
"How is my amazing little killer attack chick? How is my little Gilbird?" he gushed, nuzzling the small avian. Gilbird cheeped and flew from his hands to nest inside his white locks of hair. Gilbert smiled. "I see you are doing fucking amazing. Not that I expected no less from an awesome chick that belonged to such an awesome owner."
"Piyo!"
"Fuck, you're adorable."
Ludwig's voice wafted through the closed door. "Mr. Fritz said no cursing in the house!"
"Fine, goddammit!" Gilbert shouted back. "Stop eavesdropping!"
"You're talking to a chicken! It's basically you talking to yourself and trying to seem less crazy!" Ludwig yelled. "Now shut up so I can finish my homework!"
"Fine, you brat!" Gilbert stuck his tongue out at the door and went over to his school bag. ...Which he had left down in the kitchen. Aw, fuck it, he'd do it later; it would take to much work to go downstairs. So instead Gilbert went over to the bookshelf over by the window and withdrew a slim red journal, his latest one. He went over to his desk, withdrew a pen from a holder and flopped down onto the bed, Gilbird fluttering a bit in indignation.
"Sorry girl," he murmured, putting his pen to an empty page and began to write.
Dear Journal,
I was so awesome today when me and my friends got that Korean kid good....
Gilbert was so absorbed in writing that he didn't hear the front door open or Fritz call out that he was home. He didn't hear Fritz walk up the stairs or hear him stop by Ludwig's room and talk to him for a little bit. Gilbert didn't even hear him open his own door and slip quietly inside. He only realized that he wasn't alone when Fritz sat down beside him and grab his shoulder.
"GAAAAHHHHH-- Oh, it's you, Fritz." Gilbert sat up and closed his journal. "I didn't know you were home."
One of Fritz's eyebrows rose, a thin, elegant gray arch. "Oh, really? What with all that noise I was making?"
Gilbert flushed. "It's not my fault that you're like a ninja or something. You got skills old man."
Fritz laughed. "I'm glad you approve." He quickly sobered up, though. "However, I'm not here to make jokes right now, Gilbert. I heard from Ludwig that you got into trouble again?"
"That little--"
"Gilbert."
The albino teenager slumped against the sheets, ashamed. Fritz's disappointment was crushing and practically tearing away at his insides. He hated making the older man feel that way, hated seeing Fritz's slight wrinkles become crevices, seeing him age ten years with just a few updates about Gilbert.
"...Yes. I got detention. For two hours. I dyed Yong Soo's hair pink."
Fritz sighed. "Gilbert..." He rubbed his forehead. "I thought that you said you were going to behave after the last time."
"I did! It's just that-- I mean-- ...I tried, Fritz. I really did. I just..." Gilbert trailed off and bit his lip.
"We can't keep doing this Gilbert. You are this close to being expelled." Fritz held up two fingers to demonstrate. "I just don't understand. You used to be better behaved, but ever since middle school you've been getting into detention after detention, suspension after suspension. The only things that have kept you in St. Hetalia's are your grades and my political weight. I can't protect you forever, Gilbert. It only extends so far for so long." The fifty-eight year old man sagged from an invisible weight.
"I'm sorry, Fritz," he muttered. "I really am."
"I know you are, Gilbert. Just... just try to behave from now on?" Fritz stood up, brushing off his trouser legs. "Clean yourself up, we're going to dinner with Roderich's family tonight."
Gilbert would've complained any other night if he hadn't upset Fritz. "Fine. Let's go eat with Specs."
"Okay. It's a nice restaurant, so no hoodies."
"Yes sir."
Fritz nodded and left, shutting the door softly behind him. Gilbert collapsed against the bed, facing the ceiling and ignoring Gilbird's squawk of discomfort. He hated doing this to his guardian. Absolutely fucking hated it. Fritz was the one true person he unconditionally loved other than Ludwig and himself, the most respected person in Gilbert's seventeen years of existence. Fritz was the best thing he had next to a father. It was almost physically painful to disappoint him, which he did often.
Fritz had adopted them after Ludwig's mother had died in childbirth and their father had flown to pieces. Gilbert had been only four then, so the only memories he had of his father were of a tall, stern fuzzy man. Fritz was the one who had taught him how to fence, how to ride a horse. He had been the one to go to Gilbert's orientations and club functions. He couldn't ask for a more attentive, caring guardian. And yet, and yet...
Gilbert shook his head and shrugged off his jacket and vest, fingers going for his blue crested tie. He had a dinner to get ready for.
--- --- ---
Chapter One of hopefully a completed series. I hope you enjoyed!