Hallo, dear Germancest readers :D Juliet here! Got a text from our dear Poetess earlier, alerting me to the fact that I needed to submit my own ficlet for this fanfiction chain. That shout-out kicked my sorry butt into gear, and I thought it was about time I put in something a little bit… better. In subject, of course. Poetess's writing is actually superior to mine in many aspects. :P Still love you, schwester!

Anyhow, after discussing possible lines that would make or break a plot with her, we decided on one. B) Enjoy, little freaky fangirl darlings! (And no, I'm not trying to be hypocritical. We are too, after all.)


"DAMMIT, GIL!"

"What's the matter, bruder dear?" Gilbert taunted innocently from the other room, with a slightly malicious glint in his gaze. He lay casually sprawled across their couch, pale hair flopped over his eyes in much the same manner. Ludwig's heavy steps reached the living room before he did.

"Where did you put my report?!" the younger of the two demanded furiously. Gilbert raised both eyebrows, in keeping with the charade.

"I must say, Lud, I have no idea what you're talking about. Honest."

"My study door was locked!" he hissed, pointing one finger back the way he had come. He was glaring daggers at his brother. "Locked, Gilbert! If a room is locked, it is usually locked for a reason!"

"So why are you telling me this?" he asked with a cocky grin. Ludwig took two short strides closer to where Gilbert lounged and reached down, hauling him up by the front of his untucked button-down shirt. At this, Gilbert was forced to abandon his guileless act.

"Something wrong, West?" he taunted anyway, a smirk that bared his teeth twisting his lips up.

"I'm telling you this," Ludwig spat to the earlier question as he released his brother's shirt and shoved him, sending Gilbert stumbling, "Because my report and presentation were in that locked room, on the desk! Any suggestions as to where they are now?!"

"How would I know?"

"Because I am damn sure I locked that door. I remember putting the key in the lock and locking it! You are the only other person in this house!"

"Ohh," Gilbert said dismissively, eyes gleaming. "So that's why there was writing on those papers I used to mop up the coffee I spilled earlier. But don't you worry your little blonde head about them—they're just papers, after all."

He didn't even see the punch that rocketed forward from Ludwig's right shoulder. But it hit his left cheekbone, so it had to have been Lud's right arm. Gilbert had thought that whatever his brother threw at him, he could handle it, but this punch sent him reeling. He pissed off Ludwig almost daily, just because he needed someone to annoy and Lud was just there. Plus, he needed to learn how to take a joke. Had he known his brother could throw a punch like that, he never would have done so.

Gilbert looked up in slight disbelief, but a tidal wave of something he had to struggle to identify quickly swamped it.

Excitement?

Of course it would be. It had to be. That's what kept him pissing off Ludwig time after time. He liked the adrenaline and excitement that came with it, and the probability of a fight—a fight of a very sensual sort, that usually wound up with both of them screaming at each other for a very different reason. But he had never seen his brother this livid about a prank he'd pulled.

"Just papers, then?" Ludwig growled, pale blue eyes looking like they would gladly burn holes through Gil's head. "Just papers? Yeah, Gilbert, they were just papers that, had I presented them later today, might have prevented WAR!"

Apparently, the younger's anger was such that he pulled his right fist back again, the light in his eyes burning. The cannon that was his right arm rocketed forward, but ran into Gilbert's left palm as he caught his brother's punch. The force caused a small ripple to run through his muscle, all the way up to his shoulder. Gilbert's only response was to draw his own dominant arm back and send it flying, only to crash into the lower part of Ludwig's face, eliciting a startling crack.

An instant reply was a liver punch that forced all breath from Gilbert's lungs, and he lost his grip on Ludwig's right fist, slowly doubling over with both hands over the right part of his body above his hips. A low groan came from deep in his chest, and he managed to jerk his chin up to glare daggers at Ludwig.

The blonde man was in the opposite position from his brother. His head was tipped back as he held his nostrils closed in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. After a moment, he lowered his chin to glare right back at Gilbert.

"You idiot," he said softly, shaking his head slightly as he stood up straight. The fact that blood was sluggishly dripping into his mouth apparently had no effect on him, and he met his brother's gaze. Somehow, a calm Ludwig seemed just a little bit more frightening than a loud, angry one. He was still pissed, there was no question about that—but now it was more a calculating, absolutely lethal anger.

Frankly, it scared the hell out of Gil.

But at the same time… the fear brought a savage happiness with it.

A gleeful snarl curled his lips as Gilbert brought himself back up fully onto his feet, heedless of the sharp stabs of pain that accompanied each breath. Almost automatically, he shifted the better part of his weight onto his toes, and his fingers curled in towards his palms as he shifted his shoulders to give him a better angle.

All of a sudden, both men were glad they'd taken boxing in high school.

Gilbert snapped off a straight right, but Ludwig leaned to the side so it passed harmlessly by before responding with a right hook. And so it went—swing, counterpunch, jab, straight, cross, feint, hook. Both brothers sustained a number of bruises in a matter of minutes, but no matter how hard he fought, Ludwig was gradually being forced onto the defensive.

As they fought, it occurred to both men that never had they fought this aggressively. They flew at each other, sometimes reaching an impasse and needing to back off and start again. Ludwig realized with a slight jolt as Gil landed a solid punch to his lower ribcage that he was, in some twisted way, actually enjoying this. It was only when they fought that this scarlet light shone in his brother's burgundy eyes, and after another round of mercilessly beating on each other, Ludwig recognized… he didn't want to lose that.

So it was with renewed vigor that he threw himself back into the fight, despite the fact that he was steadily losing ground. For each step Gilbert took towards him in the hallway with short, restricted jabs and not a lot of room with which to swing, Lud was pushed a step back. The left side of his lower jaw ached fiercely, and he was sure that if it wasn't broken, it was definitely swollen. His lower arms were covered in bruises where he had blocked jabs aimed for his head and neck. Everything from his sternum to his hips felt like he had been kicked by a mule. His knuckles were leaving blood spots every time he hit Gilbert. But he was still losing ground.

Gil always did try to be the best and strongest, he thought almost fondly. He was surprised to find that most of his anger at his brother was mostly gone, and now he was rising to the challenge of a fight. He couldn't back down from a challenge—it just wasn't his way.

Gilbert jerked his head to the right as Ludwig attempted a quick jab, and swung back around with a one-two combo to the gut. Ludwig jumped back to avoid the second, losing him another two steps that Gil quickly took advantage of.

Gil was never going to beat Ludwig. Oh, sure, he could. But he wouldn't. If he ever honestly beat on Ludwig to the point where he won, all of the fun of the fight would be gone. There would be no challenge for either of them. It was a mutually accepted point that neither consciously recognized, but was true, nonetheless.

He abruptly grinned at his younger brother, the blood from his split lip staining his teeth giving him a savage, crazed appearance. That alone should have given Ludwig the clue that he was about to do something unexpected, but he only faltered.

Gilbert set his left foot back on the short carpet, brought his knee up, pulled his arms in close to his body, and executed a snap kick that sent Ludwig reeling backwards to crash into the door of their bedroom. By the way it gave under him, it hadn't been properly closed and the younger man sailed to the floor. Gil heard the breath get forced out of his lungs in a painful-sounding whoof.

While he lay there recovering for a moment, Gil took a couple of booted strides forward, only stopping when both feet rested on either side of Ludwig's waist. His black muscle shirt had inched up on his stomach, and Gilbert let out a slow whistle through his front teeth.

"Gott, what were you thinking?" he tutted, not even giving a second thought to the motion of sitting comfortably over Ludwig's hips. "You know I'm the better fighter." The sudden upheaval of the body under his caught him by surprise, and he found his back on the floor and Ludwig in the position that Gilbert himself had just been in.

"The better boxer, maybe," Ludwig muttered into his ear, panting slightly. Gilbert randomly wondered how quickly that black eye of his brother's would heal. "But not the better fighter. If you want to fight me, you should know how to win before you start. Oh, you know how to piss me off, all right, but not how to fight me."

From his slightly… precarious position underneath his brother, Gilbert discovered that what Ludwig was saying was true, and it was not idle boasting. "And believe me when I say, bruder," Ludwig continued in a quiet tone as he leaned in to whisper into his ear, "I am going to make you wish you had never ventured into my study."

Seized by a sudden idea, the silver-haired man abruptly rocked his hips up to grind into Ludwig's, smirking triumphantly as he was met with several choice curses and a swelling between their legs. With a hiss, Ludwig hunched forward, his fingers digging into Gilbert's wrists when he tried halfheartedly to push him off. When he lifted his head at last to glare at the form pinned underneath him, Gil discovered there was a new gleam in his eyes that hadn't been there before. And despite all of the pain that accompanied each movement, he couldn't help but think of what an advantageous position he was in. With a guttural growl, Ludwig pushed his hips right back against Gilbert's. A rush of lightheadedness hit him first, then he became painfully aware (literally) of the situation they were in, and Ludwig's threat still bounced around his head.

"Well," he remarked with a wicked grin, "If this is your torture, chain me to the wall!"

Ludwig leaned forward, even though it hurt, and nudged his nose up under Gilbert's jaw, keeping his arms pinned by his head. "That can be arranged," he hummed, capturing a bit of the skin on the side of Gil's neck between his teeth. He noticed with a sense of victory that the man beneath him inadvertently tried to push his lower half up as he did this, and when he pulled his head back, Gilbert regarded him with slightly glazed over eyes. There was no mistaking that particular shine, though.

"Mmm, if that's how you like it."

And as Ludwig went back to drawing his lips over Gilbert's collarbone, nipping here and there, the older man couldn't help but think that he might not tell his brother that he had only hidden those papers. After all, if it had resulted like this, he might steal them more often, the possibility of war be damned.


Aaand there you have it! :) There's MY ficlet for the collection! ^_^ I'll be honest, this was only my first whack (no pun intended, considering how this started out) at just plain intimacy by the end. Personally, I like the rage-lust factor in this one, and I'm not trying to boast, but I do think it turned out pretty damn good. ^^

And I just wanted to finish this before I go to school in a couple minutes, so later, my freaky darlings!

Juliet, over and out!