Re Cap:
"Alfred you put that couch down or so help me I'll stick it so far up your ass your grandchildren will taste it!"
Momma Artie has arrived.
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Gilbert's POV:
Gilbert was dumbfounded, yet again.
'Who the hell is this guy? And how did he get into my house?'
'Hellooooo~' cooed a little voice that lived inside of Gilbert's head.
'Fuck...'
'How's my favorite rainbow doing?'
'Go away gay thoughts!' He hissed internally.
'No, fuck you. Now, why do you think you said "yet"? Hm? This is so yaoi-licious!'
'Girl please, I don't have to submit to you in any way.'
'But you will, or I'll give you some very VERY pleasant dreams about your little Canadian in the other room.'
'You bitch.'
'So the possibility of having feelings for Matthew is a bitch? That's not very nice.'
'You shut your mouth."
'I was merely teasing. Now, try taking a closer look at the Canadian, you'd be surprised as to what you could discover.'
'Yeah, okay,' Gilbert rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the stranger who had entered his home.
"Who the hell are you?" Gilbert asked bluntly. The two had been chatting it up while Gilbert was dealing with his... stuff.
"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Arth-" the brit began, only to be interrupted by the American we all know and love.
"That's momma Artie!" He shouted, wrapping his arm around the smaller- but seemingly older- male. The man was short, with big enough eyebrows to shelter a small down.
"Don't call me that, you git!" The brit hissed. "As I was SAYING, I'm Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. And you are?"
"I'm the guy that wants to know what the hell you're doing in my house," Gilbert replied, giving a sarcastic bow.
"Well, what vulgar language." Arthur scoffed. "Alfred called me, I hope that's okay with you, Mr. house owner."
"Ah, so I assume you two are...." Gilbert impaled a hole formed by his pointer finger and thumb with the pointer finger on the opposing hand, causing both males to gag in disgust.
"We're brothers!" gasped Alfred.
"Non biologically, of course," added Arthur, wriggling away from his "brother".
"Does that mean he's related to Matthew?" Inquired the albino.
"No," Arthur frowned. "to be quite frank, I've never met the lad."
"I see...." Gilbert gave Arthur a quick one-over, before deciding he was safe. Just then, the flirtatious Frenchman we all know and love decided to enter the room.
"He's awake now," he chirped, looking fifty shades of cheerful. Without hesitation, Alfred and Gilbert skidded into the guest bedroom, to be greeted by a very.... very, unclothed Matthew.
"G-Get out!" Matthew screeched.
"Wait don't go in! He's chang---," the Frenchman called, running after them. " Oh, it looks like I'm a bit late," he rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. The three exited the room, leaving Matthew to put clothing on his nakedness.
Gilbert was currently leaning against a wall outside of the Canadians room, his face a dark crimson.
'Guess who~'
'Fuck.'
'Now now, I just wanted to chat.'
'About?'
'Mattie, of course!'
'I figured just as much. An what would you like to taunt me about now?'
'You saw him NAKIE!'
'Really? I had no idea!'
'Oh hush, I was just trying to be helpful.'
'And how is that helpful? Nevermind, is that all you have to say?'
'You're a dick.'
'But I'm a nice dick.'
'Fuck off.'
Gilbert smirked, since he had bested the forsaken voice yet again. Francis took notice to this and gave him a look of suspicion.
"The thoughts in your head better be decent, young man," warned the Frenchman, crossing his arms upfront of his chest.
"Don't tell me how to live my life," he replied with sass-for-days.
"If you touch my brother in Amy way you won't have a life to live," butted in Alfred, who had been glaring daggers at the albino.
"Which one?" He tried, a gasp erupting from the other males lurking in the hallway.
"OH FUCK, WE FORGOT ARTIE!" Alfred cried, running back down the hall. Down the hall, you could hear the sound of a pan being dropped, and a brit being squished. "STEP AWAY FROM THE OVEN!"
"WHAT THE HELL ALFRED?!"
"YOU'LL KILL US ALL, AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU KILL PEOPLE?" Alfred got off of the brit and began shaking him frantically. "THEY DIE, ARTIE!"
"No shit, Sherlock," grumbled the brit.
"Shut it, Watson," was heard from a familiar Frenchman, who had heard the commotion and raced after the American. Arthur stared at the Frenchman in awe, while Alfred looked between the two suspiciously.
"So, your cooking can kill, non?"
"Not in the way you're implying it, I'm afraid," sighed the brit, getting up from the ground.
"Ah, well then perhaps I'll teach you sometime," he winked at the brit.
"Why would I want to be taught to make disgusting French food?"
Ouch.
"Well that's unfortunate, but the more I think about it, I believe my food would be too delectable for you to handle," he smirked, having bested the brit.
"Oi! My cooking could run circles around yours!"
"I do hope you mean in taste..."
With that, the brit stormed out of the room.
"He's a feisty one, isn't he?" The frenchman sighed, turning to the American.
"Just watch yourself, not many live long after insulting Artie's cooking."
"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Hissed the brit from the other room.
And so it began.
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(A/N): Nakie
Author out *leaves anti-climatically*
