Seasonal Feathers

Chapter 2

Gilbert sat on the couch, humming to himself. The TV was on, featuring the news. At the moment, he was watching a story talking about some famous documentary on the Holy Roman Empire, not that he was really paying attention. His mind had wandered elsewhere without his permission, just as it had been doing for the past few weeks.

Since he'd met Matthew, the shy Canadian was all he could think about. He grinned like an idiot, remembering the way Mattie had been so surprised when he had remembered his name. He felt sort of special that he knew it, though he had no idea why he'd ever forget. That brought him back to another issue: he'd promised that he'd think of some better nickname than Mattie, but he still hadn't.

The door banged open, revealing a tall, blond man. He blew out a sigh and tramped over to the couch, slumping down next to Gilbert.

"Rough shift, Lud?" Gilbert asked with an amused smirk.

His brother groaned. "Incredibly boring. Nothing exciting ever happens in this town, and I want to see action." He got up and wandered into the kitchen. "I need a beer."

Gilbert rolled over to face his direction. "Hey, Ludwig?" He heard the fridge swing shut with a clinking sound. "Ja?"

"Did you think of anything?" He heard an exasperated sigh and Ludwig walked back into the living room, leaning against the doorframe. "No, I haven't. I have better things to worry about than some guy that walked into your shop one day. Let it go, it's not like you're ever going to see him again anyway."

Gilbert scowled. "First, you don't know that. Second, I just want to be prepared. And third... what was-oh! Nothing ever happens during your day, so don't tell me that you had better things to do!"

"I did!" Ludwig shot back, ears reddening slightly. "Alfred made us all play poker and we all got very involved. Antonio actually picked it up quite nicely. We should have a poker night." Gilbert shook his head and leaned back with a snort. He grinned up at the ceiling.

"Bro-ha, our lives are so not awesome. Seriously. This town is in the middle of nowheresville and it's just like those quiet towns in horror movies where it looks all sweet and perfect but all the folks are involved in some weird satanic ritual. Except that we don't even have that!" He studied a flake of dry paint on the ceiling. "Pass me a beer, would you? And help me think of something."

He could practically hear Ludwig's eye roll, but it was soon followed by the sound of the fridge reopening. A small yelp of surprise jerked Gilbert's head around. "What?"

Ludwig came back into the living room with an annoyed look on his face. "This," he held up a small, yellow shape, "somehow made his way into the refrigerator!" "Gilbird!" Gilbert climbed over the couch and took his tiny yellow friend. "I was looking for you everywhere!"

Ludwig stared at him before simply walking back to the couch. "I don't know how he is still even alive, keep better track of your bird, Gil!"

"Hmm, bird..." Gilbert muttered, setting Gilbird back on his shoulder and plopping down next to his brother. He took the other beer and popped the cap off, taking a swig. "Bird. Yellow bird. Blond bird. Uh, shy bird?"

"What in the name of Berlin are you doing?"

"I'm trying something. Now hush and help me think of bird things." Ludwig caught on quickly. "I feel so bad for this man." He muttered. But he still started rattling off all the avian-related nicknames he could think of.

--

Matthew knocked hesitantly on the door of the Vargas household. He heard a clatter from inside, and a familiar voice called "Coming!"