DREAM 3: DANCE WITH A BEAR
"You made out with Elizabeta?"
"Intensely, I might add. Vigorously. It was so hot. She could barely keep up with my awesome talent."
"Oh? Is that why you're the one with dark blotches on your neck?" Francis teased, Antonio and him unable to resist chuckling at their friend's show of "dominance".
Gilbert turned a deep shade of red, reaching a hand up to cover the spots. "Y-yeah, well you guys can't talk! I bet you haven't got as much action as I did this week!"
Now the two burst into full-on laughter. "Gilbert, do you know who you're speaking to? Half the world bows to my amazing pleasuring powers! In fact, I've spent two nights this week in two different countries, if you know what I mean." Francis punctuated his statement with a flirtatious wink.
"Me and Lovino have done it a few times. Why, just last night after the maid fiasco-"
"NO, ANTONIO. DON'T WANNA HEAR IT," Gilbert hollered in frustration. He hadn't even beaten that pansy Roderich to banging Elizabeta, and that fact alone bothered him to no end.
At that moment, Elizabeta walked into the room, cooking apron still on and completely unaware of the previous conversation. "Oh, Francis, Antonio! How are you this morning? Would you like to eat with us? I can make more pancakes and sausage, if you'd like," Elizabeta offered, cheerfully smiling at the idea that it wouldn't be just her (and Gilbert, for he'd somehow managed to move into her basement without her consent) eating her morning meal.
"Ah, we'd love to," Antonio said, returning her kindness with a smile of his own. Of the Bad Touch Trio Antonio was definitely the one she liked best...well, besides Gilbert. Not that she'd ever tell him that.
The group soon found themselves seated around Elizabeta's dining table, thoroughly enjoying the delicious breakfast she had prepared. In the midst of conversation, Elizabeta came upon a stray thought. "Gilbert, what's on the list for today?" she asked, piquing the curiosity of the others as well.
"Lemme see..." Gilbert reached a hand into his back pocket, yet again retrieving his crumpled list. "Number 3: Dance with a bear."
Silence fell upon them.
"Well yeah! Haven't you ever wanted to do that?"
"I cannot say that I have, mon ami. But where do you plan to find this bear?"
Gilbert scratched his chin absently, contemplating the question for a moment. "I was thinking that we could just go to a forest and find one, or something. You've got bears here, right, Lizzy?"
"Not ones that won't bite your head off. What kind of animals do you think live in the wild?"
Huffing indignantly, Gilbert crossed his arms, not liking to be insulted so early in the day. "Where else are we going to find one?" Everyone at the table lost themselves in thought, searching their brains for an idea.
"Oho! I know where we can find one!"
"Oooh, ooh! Where?"
"Why, at my darling Mathieu's house, of course~" Francis said with a flourish, pride in his voice as he praised his beloved son.
Antonio blinked a few times, his expression blank. "...Who?"
The others let out various noises of understanding, finally remembering who Francis was talking about. "Ohh, right, that guy. I forgot about him."
"He doesn't stand out very much, does he? A shame, because he'd make such a wonderful match for his brother."
"Alfred's brother? So he's the guy that lives north of Alfred, right? I think that's him."
"Do not talk about my son like that!" Francis growled, not particularly liking the current string of conversation. "He is very special, you know!"
Gilbert rolled his eyes, unimpressed by how girly Francis was acting. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But seriously, what does what's-his-name have to do with a bear?"
"Mathieu has a pet polar bear."
Francis's two friends lit up when they heard this. "Really? Dude, let's go!"
Matthew was nothing short of surprised to see four eager nations standing on his doorstep, Gilbert still pressing the doorbell relentlessly. Truthfully, Matthew almost closed the door again, his hand twitching to do such. He couldn't deny that he was curious, though; it was rare that he got visitors. So what to do? Continue to spend a lazy day by himself watching old hockey matches, or indulge his curiosity and find out what they were there for?
He was given no time to decide as he was tackled by an over-enthusiastic father, rolling around on the floor and fondling every bit of Matthew he could reach.
"Mon petit fils! Oh, how I have missed you!"
"P-Papa! I just saw you last Wednesday! You're crushing me…!"
Elizabeta squawked indignantly when Gilbert covered the lens of her camera, blocking the rapid-fire shuttering from the tantalizing scene before them. "So Mathias, where's the bear?"
"My name's Matthew, Mathias is Denmark…" he muttered, though his complaint fell on deaf ears. Matthew sighed dejectedly. "So, you're looking for Kumapero? What do you need him for?"
Francis released Matthew and stood up, taking the lead for the group and none-too-casually spotlighting himself. "My dear Mathieu, we are here to fulfill one of Gilbert's many devilish desires as written in his list of life dreams!" he said, conjuring a whirlwind of rose petals to emphasize his French beauty.
"…But what do you need Kumakichi for?"
"Because the third thing on my list is to dance with a bear. And you've got a polar bear!"
The fact that the other countries knew more about his pet than about him left a sour taste in his mouth, but it really couldn't be helped, especially since his brother and adoptive British father didn't recognize him either. Some days he wished he was more French. Not a moment after thinking this Kumajiro wandered into the entryway, nudging Matthew's leg with his wet nose. At this Matthew smiled, picking Kumajiro up and hugging him to his chest. "Kumataki, we have guests over."
Kumajiro stared up at his owner blankly. "Who are you?"
"Hey, amigo, can we continue talking inside? It's really cold out here…" Antonio hugged himself and shivered to prove his point.
"A-ah! Of course, how stupid of me! Come in." Matthew backed away from the door quickly before he could be trampled by the other nations, a strong possibility given his presence (or lack thereof).
Finally situated in the dining room, Gilbert began to elaborate on The Awesomely Whimsical Hopes and Dreams of the Amazing Gilbert Beilschmidt and what they had already done and what they had yet to achieve. Matthew had to admit he was impressed; Gilbert seemed to put quite a bit of time and dedication into the project. He was also rather concerned for his mental health, but such feelings were expected in regards to Gilbert or any other member of the Bad Touch Trio. Yes, very concerning indeed.
"Hello? You in there, Martin?"
Gilbert frowned, knocking Matthew on the head for good measure. "I asked you if your bear knows how to dance. Ow!" Gilbert rubbed his head where Elizabeta hit it, retribution in defense of the spineless Matthew. "Geez, Lizzy, what was that for?"
"Don't hit people, Gilbert. It's rude."
"Oh, like you're one to talk!"
"Uhm…" Matthew expertly cut in, not at all keen on having an all-out brawl or bloodied bodies in his home. "I don't think Kumahimo can dance, but sometimes he does this little wiggling thing. Does that count?"
Gilbert seemed to consider this for a moment, looking to his friends for input. "I dunno. What do you think, Antonio?"
"I think we should teach him flamenco dancing! We could put him in a dress, too! So cute!" Antonio was literally bubbling with glee, but couldn't help whining about Lovino as he clung to Francis's arm, crying out his tale of woe and how he wished Lovino wouldn't punch him every time he tried to get him into a dress.
"Mmm, but I'd much rather see a dress like that on our dear lady Elizabeta! It would hug her curves so nicely, wouldn't you agree, Gilbert?"
His response was a strangled noise of embarrassment, the color of his cheeks matching his eyes. Francis fancied himself a good man, but there was something about a stuttering Gilbert that he couldn't resist teasing. Ah, the effects l'amour could have on even the most romantically-stunted souls.
"Wh-what kind of question is that, Francis? O-of course I don't think she would! Even a dress like that w-wouldn't be able to make her tits look bigger! Geez, what a dumb question, hahaha!"
"Y-you! You inconsiderate jerk! I swear to God, I'll kill you!" A manly screech of terror pierced the air as Gilbert scrambled past his friends, an enraged Hungarian wielding a frying pan in hot pursuit. "Get back here, you vile wretch!"
"Like hell, you psycho bitch!"
Had Antonio not been so absent-minded he might have heard Francis click his tongue and say "So immature, chasing each other about like children. Shameful." Had he not been so absent-minded he might have pointed out to Francis that he had done the exact same thing to Lovino the day before. As it was, though, Antonio was that absent-minded, so the only thing that he did was let out a simple stream of chuckles as he thought of the Vargas brothers wearing beautiful flamenco dresses.
Suddenly, Francis felt a tug on his other arm (the one Antonio wasn't clinging to) and nearly jumped, Matthew having suddenly appeared at his side. A funny notion, since Francis couldn't recall the boy ever leaving. Oh well. "Yes, Mathieu? What is it you need?"
"Well, I was just thinking tha—" both coherent nations cringed at the painful cracking sound ("Oh my God Lizzy put down that thing stop hitting me I didn't mean it I swearrrOH MY FUCKING GOD AUUUUGHHHH") "—at getting him to flamenco dance wouldn't work. Kumashindo stands on all four legs, and I'm pretty sure he can't stand on less than that." Matthew turned to look at his pet, Kumajiro hungrily consuming the fish he'd been given to eat.
Francis considered this statement for a moment. "Gilbert could hold him up, oui?" he reasoned, doing his best do block out the sounds of torture erupting from the next room.
"That would work," Matthew conceded, turning to his pet and asking, "What do you thing, Kumamaru?"
Kumajiro looked up at him with a thoughtful shine in his eyes, licking his paws clean. "That sounds fine."
"Then it's settled. Gilbert, Elizabeta!" A weak groan of pain met Francis's ears. "Come in here!" He heard Gilbert grunt as he struggled to stand, then the shuffling of feet as they made their way in. Gilbert didn't look nearly as broken as his cries implied, though he was certainly worse for wear, evidenced by the purple welts already blooming on his face. Elizabeta was scowling, not completely satisfied or anger-free, but luckily looking significantly less agitated than she had some moments ago.
"God, you are such a bitch."
"Watch it, Beilschmidt, before I decide to break your neck." A shiver of fear raced up his spine, hand instinctively rising up to protect his neck.
"S-So what is it?"
Antonio was pulled from his fantasies by the sound of Gilbert's voice, looking between the different people confusedly. People had been talking?
Luckily, Francis was there to inform him. "Since…"—Francis paused, unable to recall the name—"the bear can't stand on his own, we thought it might be best if you held him up by his paws. That's the only way it would work, I believe."
Gilbert pondered this. "Well, I guess that would work," he acknowledged, squatting down so he was level with Kumajiro. "Okay bear, let's do this." Gilbert grabbed Kumajiro's paws as he hoisted him up, still having to bend over when the bear was at full height. "Jesus Christ, you're heavy. What do you eat, walrus blubber?" Kumajiro only stared at him with beady black eyes. Gilbert took this as a 'yes'. Ignoring the cramping in his muscles for the time being, he continued. "Alright, let's dance, Kuma-whatever."
And so they danced.
…Well, as well as a nation and bear could dance together.
It was early evening by the time they left Canada, Gilbert and Kumajiro only dancing for a short time, the rest spent eating when Gilbert pointed out that as the host, Matthew should cook lunch/dinner for them. Pancakes, to be precise.
By the time Elizabeta and Gilbert (who had insisted that she help support him because his back was sore from leaning over and she was always talking about how strong she was anyway) arrived home the two were ready for sleep, following their nightly routines with minimal effort. It was only when Gilbert pulled out his crumpled list and grinned widely that she bothered to say anything at all. "What's next on the list?" she questioned, words slurred slightly by the toothbrush and toothpaste currently in her mouth.
He smirked at her and slipped the paper back into his pocket, retreating to the stairs that led to the first floor of the house. "You'll find out eventually. Night, Lizzy!" His call was followed by the sound of quick footsteps down a flight of stairs, and then once again as he descended a second staircase that led to his makeshift bedroom in the basement.
Elizabeta looked at her reflection in the mirror quizzically.
'What could it possibly be?'