Ch.1 Proposition

Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt feels that he is destined for something awesome. When he meets Francis Bonnefoy, he finally finds out what that awesome something is. Dragging along his brother and some friends, Gilbert sets out to be a hitman! But is it all worth it?

Pairings: GerIta, Spamano, eventual AusHun and SuFin

Warnings: Language, violence, rated M to be safe

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

A/N: Hello everyone! This is a prequel to my other story Sex, Drugs, and Money, however, you do not need to read that one in order to understand this one.

With nothing else to say, please enjoy :3

Gilbert sat at his boring desk, in front of his boring computer, at his boring job. Man he was bored! Why did he let his brother convince him to get a job as a bank teller? Bank tellers were incredibly boring and incredibly unawesome. "It'll be fine," he said. "You'd enjoy it," he said. Stupid West! Gilbert should've known better than to listen to his stick-up-the-ass brother. And that stick was deep in there. He knew this for a fact.

He sighed and looked up at the sound of a bell dinging. "Ja, ja, how can I help you and all that," he said uninterested.

The man stuttered. "U-uh, um, I-I would like to withdraw some money."

"No shit. What else would you withdraw?" Gilbert said annoyed. Idiots. Idiots all of them. And the awesome Gilbert only had so much patience...

"Uh, right, yes. Um, I would like to withdraw," the man swallowed. Gilbert finally looked at the man; he was sweating (alot) and he looked incredibly nervous. 'He's just taking out some money. Why is he so nervous?' Maybe it was because he couldn't handle being in his awesome presence? Yeah, that was it. Poor guy. "I would like to w-withdraw 5,500 euros p-please.

Gilbert almost choked on nothing. 5,500 euros? Did this guy seriously have that much? And why would he need so much? Maybe he lost a bet or owed money, lots of people owed money these days. "Uh, sure. Name?" Gilbert filled out all the necessary, boring stuff on his boring computer. Didn't work. "What?" Gilbert said to himself angrily, giving the computer a death glare. He tried again. And again. And again, until FINALLY it worked. "Finally you piece of shit!" he yelled, earning him strange stares.

"Um..." the man said nervously.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm gonna go get your money right now." He walked over to his coworker, who grudgingly gave him the key, and headed to the back. The one thing he liked about working in the stuffy bank was that he got to touch all the money. He usually smirked evilly while doing it, pretending he was a mob boss successful in stealing the money.

Now that was an awesome job; a mob boss...or a secret agent! Or - or an assassin, or a ninja! Those were awesome jobs. They would be much more worthy of his awesomeness than a fucking bank.

"What do you think you're doing?" a stuffy voice asked.

Gilbert turned around and his face immediately morphed into one of disgust. "I'm getting some money for a client Edelstein," he spat.

"That's Mr. Edelstein to you Beilschmidt," Mr. Edelstein shot back.

"Ja, ja, whatever Roddy."

"Gilbert, stop being such an ass. You should be grateful to me. I got you this job," he said with a sigh. "And if you want to keep it, I suggest you try and pretend that you respect me, or else my father will fire you." 'Stupid Roderich and his stupid dad' Gilbert thought.

"Fine," he took a deep breath and continued. "Mr. Edelstein," he said grudgingly.

"That's better. You should really learn some manners," Roderich said, fixing his glasses.

"Ja, ja, can I go get this guys money now?" Roderich really knew how to get on his nerves.

Roderich nodded, then eyed the bag Gilbert was carrying. "What's the bag for? Are you going to steal the money? And I thought you were smarter than that Gilbert," he sighed.

"I'm not gonna steal the money Roderich. The guys taking out 5,500 euros," Gilbert laughed. "It must be nice to be a rich sonuvabitch. Well, I guess you'd know Roddy."

Roderich rolled his eyes. "Gilbert, do you know why he is taking out so much? Didn't I tell you to inform me when someone wants to withdraw more than a thousand euros?"

"Well I'm informing ya now." 'In HIS face'

Roderich sighed again. Was Gilbert really that much of an idiot? "Come with me." he said, grabbing Gilbert's arm and pulling him back to the front desk.

"Excuse me sir," he said very politely, shoving Gilbert into his rolling chair. "I need to make sure you are who you say you are before we can let you take out that much money." The man twitched. "If you would please follow me." Roderich walked to the other side of the desk and motioned for the man to follow. "Gilbert, get back to work."

Fucking Roderich, telling him what to do. Making him stay in this boring seat. Fucking -

"Bonjour," someone said, leaning against the desk. Great. French. When were people going to learn be didn't speak French?


"I would like to make a deposit."

"Of what? Money?" Gilbert laughed, nobody would get his joke, but it was funny to him.

"Why of course mon cher," the man said happily, clapping his hands together and chuckling. Hmm... Maybe this guy was pretty cool.

"Alright," Gilbert said with a smile. He finally looked up to meet the man's eyes, a deep blue colour that stood out amongst his chin length blond hair. "How much?"



"Francis Bonnefoy."

"Huh, pretty fancy name you got there."

"I guess." Gilbert couldn't help but look at the man. There was something about him...something mysterious, something...awesome. Something that sucked Gilbert in and wouldn't let him out.

"All done. I just need the money." Francis pulled out a check; already written and signed, and handed it to Gilbert. "Ok." Wait...he was supposed to say something else wasn't he? "Uh...oh! Thank you for coming." Ha, handled that like a pro! A really boring pro, but a pro nonetheless.

"It was my pleasure mon cher." Francis smirked and it immediately caught Gilbert's eye. There was DEFINITALY something about that guy and Gilbert was gonna find out!

Leaving a note for Roderich, Gilbert snuck around the side of the desk and out of the bank. He followed Francis at a safe distant; not so close that he was seen but not so far that Francis was out of sight.

He was pretty good at sneaking around if he did say so himself. He would always sneak into his brother's room and steal his magazines; the ones he didn't want Gilbert to see because those were the most awesome. Following some guy was a piece of cake, he had done it occasionally for Roderich; stalking people and scaring the shit out of them so that they would hurry up and pay back their loans. But this guy - this guy was different. He was alert, always on the lookout, making it hard for Gilbert to follow too closely and maybe hear his conversations. He also had to duck behind buildings and between alleys when Francis would turn around.

It wasn't easy, but it sure was awesome. Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he felt such a rush! He could totally be an assassin or a secret agent! -oh crap!

"Who are you? Who do you work for?" Francis yelled, grabbing Gilbert's collar and pinning him against an alley wall, smacking his head against the brick. When the fuck had they gotten so close? "'re that banker," he said, loosening his grip slightly.

"That's right! Name's Gilbert," he said, smiling widely. Despite the fact that he might get his face beat in, this was pretty awesome, he could totally take this guy no sweat.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Why were you following me?" Wow, he wasn't expecting that. Gilbert thought. He couldn't possibly tell the guy he was following him because there was something weird about him...

"I was following you because there's something weird about you." 'Way to blow it Gil'.

"You followed me all the way from the bank?" Gilbert nodded proudly. "How did you manage to follow me so far." Francis looked like he was thinking, then his eyes widened in horror. "Who do you work for?"

That was unexpected too.

"Wh-what? The great Gilbert Beilschmidt doesn't work for anybody!" he exclaimed. "I just work at the bank. My friend Roddy hooked me up." 'Dumb bastard'.

Francis looked disbelieving for a moment, then sighed and let go of Gilbert's collar. "Hmm.." a smirk spread across his face and he looked at the silver haired man. "You're talents are being wasted at such a...boring job."

Gilbert scoffed. "You're telling me.. Wait, talents?" What was he talking about?

"Yes. If you worked for me...I could put your talents to good use."

"What kind of job is it?" If it was another boring one, then Gilbert was getting his brother and they were moving someplace Scotland! He could get as drunk as he wanted and no one would care in Scotland!

"That...I cannot tell you. I can only tell you if you agree to work for me."

"That's alittle..."

"I understand, but maybe you can think it over?" A sly smile appeared on his face as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Gilbert.

"A business card?" Well that was weird. And it only had a name and a phone number. What kind if business card was this?

"When you make your decision, please call me. Oh, and you can't tell anyone about this or I'll have to kill you."

Gilbert laughed. That was such an awesome line, he didn't think people actually used it outside of movies. "Got it - huh?" And Francis was gone...

What the fuck?

A/N: I hope you enjoyed :) I think I'm going to have fun writing this story and so I hope everyone has fun reading it.

5,500 euros is about 7,500 dollars

Ja: Yes

Mon cher: my dear

Thank you for reading and reviews are loved