Author's note: A de-anon from the LiveJournal kink meme.
That's What You Get: Chapter 1
Ivan Braginski read the e-mail again, hoping that he had somehow misread it the first time. Disappointed that he did not, he closed his eyes and sighed. There was just no way he could hold it off any longer.
He needed to find one immediately. And not just any person he could grab off the street; he had a certain set of requirement s to fulfill. Hair colour had to be just so. Height too, was a factor. And then of course, he must not forget, overall complexion was important as well. Attitude – must not forget attitude. Willingness did not matter much, but would be a plus. Actually, the hell with it, he would make his poor victim – no, candidate, yes, that was the word, go through with his plans, any protests or objections be damned.
Because he was Ivan Braginski, damn it. And if Ivan really wanted something, forget that moving mountains bullshit, he could make the Greater Caucasus Range get up and do the Barynya if he thought it would be fun.
Ivan logged out from the computer and walked out of the library, ready to begin his first step towards reaching his goal. He needed to find a few, or at least, one suitable candidate. He certainly did not have much time before–
He shuddered. No, best not to think about it. Now now, Ivan, he chided himself quietly, focus on the task at hand. How should he go about it, yes? Wandering around school and simply looking at people did not seem like the best way. Perhaps he should just head for some of the places in school where the students liked to hang out and see if he could find a candidate there, or at least some inspiration.
A few moments later found him in one such place, listening to some of the people around him. One particular conversation between a tall blond and a brown-haired student of equal height tugged his interest. He was not exactly eavesdropping either, for the other two students were just talking so loudly that he simply could not help but hear their conversation.
Francis. Ivan could never remember what was his last name. Senior. Too blond, too loud, and too French for Ivan's liking, and that scraggly growth on his face certainly did not help things along. Strangely enough, he had quite a following in school for reasons Ivan could not fathom.
The other guy – what was his name again, oh yes – Antonio. Also a senior. Now that one was admittedly a rather nice-looking young man, but he was too dark, too green-eyed and far too happy for Ivan's requirements.
Antonio shook his head. "He got turned down again? What is it now, the thirteenth time?"
"Fifteenth. You'd think he'd given up by now, but no."
"Well Francis, he is persistent!"
"By that you mean that he's just too dumb to quit."
"Maybe he'll have better luck this year."
"He'd better. Having virgin boy interrupting me on one of my dates with one of his stupid phone calls is getting more than just a bit annoying."
Ivan's ears perked up. Oh? Now this was rather interesting. Apparently this particular individual those two were discussing was of... unspotted virtue? Would this fit into his scheme of things? A quick moment of speculation decided that yes, it did.
Antonio laughed. "I'll get Gilbert to hang out with me the next time you go on a date."
The rest of the conversation then moved on to Antonio and someone called Lovino, but Ivan quickly lost interest in that. He did however, remain curious about this Gilbert. The name certainly sounded familiar. Oh yes, now he remembered.
He smiled in satisfaction. Yes, Gilbert would do quite nicely indeed.
If Gilbert had paid a bit more attention, he would not have promptly ran smack into someone as he went around the corner.
"Watch where you're going!" he instinctively snapped, even though the collision was not exactly the other person's fault.
"I am sorry," said the other guy, who made an odd little gesture with his hands, palms out, as if indicating that he had meant no harm. When Gilbert realised that those hands were a smidge bigger than his – why the hell was the guy wearing gloves? – not to mention that their owner was taller and bigger than he was, he looked up to find a tall young man with strong, Slavic features and pale blond hair, almost as pale as his own.
Not that it actually mattered that the guy was taller and bigger. No. He could take Tall Freak down, no problem. Oh yeah.
"You are Gilbert, yes? Gilbert Beilschmidt?" Tall Freak asked.
Well that was nice, Gilbert thought. At least the guy's heard of him and of course, the awesomeness that came with it – then again, who wouldn't? Oh right, those girls who kept turning him down when he asked them out. He mentally shoved the beginnings of a slump in his mood into a dark corner and gave it a few hefty kicks for good measure. "Yeah... oh." He blinked in recognition. "You're that new Russian exchange student. Bragiwhatsisface."
The pale giant beamed in pleasure, even though Gilbert had just mangled his name. "Yes. Braginski. Ivan Braginski." An odd smile appeared on his face. "You have... spunk, yes? Yes, that's it, spunk. Spunk is good."
Gilbert stared at Ivan, puzzled. "Huh?"
"Nothing. I am very sorry, yes. Hope to see you again. And again." With that somewhat odd parting remark, he waved cheerfully with an equally odd smile and turned to leave. He had taken two, three steps before he stopped and looked behind him. "Gilbert?"
"Actually, I will see you after school, yes? Please wait for me at main gate." Not waiting for a reply, Ivan smiled that strange smile and left.
Ivan was in such an elated mood that he found himself almost skipping back to the library. To run into Gilbert Beilschmidt like that must be a sign! Oh, and the guy even recognised him! Yes, it was a sign indicating that Gilbert was the perfect candidate, and he could put the next part of his plan into action.
He had done a bit of background checking – that was the phrase they used in those police shows on TV, if he remembered correctly – on Gilbert. When his name was mentioned by those two other seniors, the only thing Ivan could remember about him was that one occasion when Gilbert came into one of his classes, looking for Francis. It was impossible to forget someone with that hair – and those eyes!
One good thing about Ivan's imposing appearance was that it practically guaranteed him answers when he asked around. Let's see, Ivan thought.
Gilbert Beilschmidt. Senior. Obviously of German heritage. Has a younger brother, Ludwig, who was often mistaken as the elder sibling due to him being taller and bulkier then his senior. Was always hanging out with Francis and Antonio, or sometimes another senior called Arthur. Plays the drums. Gets into trouble at least once a week on principle. And more importantly, not taken.
"Gilbert? Oh, you mean that guy with the freaky eyes? Well, he is kinda cute, but...."
Freaky? He did not think those eyes were freaky. They were a nice shade of reddish purple, he thought, almost as nice as his own paler ones. Some of the more brave girls in the school had shyly complimented him on his violet eyes, before their courage dissipated and then they fled, the nervous wrecks.
"But?" he had prompted the girl.
"The moment he opens his mouth – ooh! He just turns you off, okay? I swear, his stupid ego is bigger than the size of the planet."
The few other people he asked basically had similar reactions, and they also confirmed that yes, Gilbert is not going out with anyone, and no, seriously doubt that he ever will, not with that attitude.
Ivan begged to differ, but he liked that attitude.
When he first arrived at the school under the exchange program, it was hard for him to make friends. For some reason everyone found him more than just a bit intimidating and they were rather reluctant to talk to him. At first he thought that they just needed time to get used to him – or perhaps it was just his accent – but until today he could barely hold a conversation that lasted more than five minutes before the whole thing just turned uncomfortable and awkward. Even the teachers acted the same way; he would purposely skip a class, yet none of them dared to reprimand him. He was skipping one right now, choosing to go back to the library to use the computer, but the librarian and the few teachers around only smiled nervously at him, probably thinking that at least he was doing work in the library, instead of, oh, raping and pillaging or something.
Gilbert was the lone individual he had encountered in the school whom did not seem to be afraid of him. When they had collided in the hall earlier, Ivan was delighted that the other boy had not found his superior height intimidating the least, choosing to glare up that ruler-straight German nose at him.
Chuckling softly to himself, Ivan sat at one of the computer terminals and logged in. He replied to the e-mail he had received earlier, choosing his words carefully. Satisfied, he sent it off and then decided that he might as well use the spare time – why bother going back to class now? – to do some more research on local dating practices.
Now then, what to type into Google, yes?
Gilbert furiously copied down the few remaining lines from the notebook – with just a few alterations to make it different enough, of course, he was not that stupid – before he shoved the notebook back into its proper place in Arthur's backpack. Arthur would throw a fit if he caught Gilbert copying his homework again; not that he was afraid of the little guy, but getting caught would mean Arthur taking his backpack everywhere he went. And Gilbert certainly did not want that.
As usual, he turned his homework in without any problems; his handwriting was immaculate, which gave the impression that he actually spent time on it, unlike some of the other chicken-scratching morons in the class who almost always got reprimanded for doing last-minute copying.
He couldn't wait for school to be over so he could head off to the local music store with Antonio. Antonio wanted to get some new strings, while Gilbert wanted to tag along so he could drool (well, not literally, he was too awesome to do that) over the Ludwig Epic Modular drum kit the store had on display. He was still mentally picturing the gorgeous seven-piece chrome and blue kit in his head (those awesome twin kick drums combined would knock down walls! Oh god oh god!) when school was over and he made his way to the gate to meet Antonio.
He was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped in surprise when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Shit! Antonio, don't scare me–"
"Ah, sorry, but I'm not this Antonio," interrupted that Tall Freak from this afternoon, beaming. "Anyway, I am pleased that you agreed to wait for me, yes?"
"Huh? Look here, Blotski–"
"Braginski," he corrected. "But please, call me Ivan."
"Yeah, whatever. Look Ivan, I wasn't waiting for–"
Gilbert groaned. Was anyone actually going to let him finish a sentence today? He turned to find a smiling Antonio heading towards them.
"Oh, hi there!" Antonio greeted Ivan, who politely smiled back.
Cheerful as always, Antonio said, "Gilbert and I are going to grab something to eat before we head off to that new music store. Want to come?" he offered, totally oblivious to the not-too-discreet kick Gilbert gave him in the shin.
"No, it's okay. I just want to tell Gilbert something before we all go."
Antonio and Gilbert exchanged a puzzled look.
"Tell me what?" Gilbert asked.
Ivan smiled and placed his hands on Gilbert's shoulders. "That I would like to ask you out, yes?"
Gilbert's jaw dropped.