A/N ;; Craaaaack! So much crack! I love it!

So, welcome to Hardly a Love Story! This is a story my friend and I came up with during our last ideas exchange, and decided that we immediately needed to write it. This is the first time I've ever written with a (kind of) co-author – and I say kind of because she isn't doing any writing. Anyway, I wrote this piece in a little under an hour and it has been looked through very quickly, so if there are any glaring errors, do tell me. I'll work through this chapter again later, when I don't have a certain someone looking over my shoulder at everything I'm doing.


Hardly a Love Story

…o…

Chapter One
Confessions from a Lunatic

…o…


When Matthew knocked on the almost familiar apartment door for the third time that week, pizzas in hand, he had no idea that the love of his life was waiting on the other side.

The love of his life, on the other hand, knew the love of his life was waiting on the other side. Matthew had delivered pizzas to Gilbert's apartment several times before. In fact, he had delivered a pizza to Gilbert's apartment every day he had worked for the past two weeks.

This wasn't fate or destiny at work. This was because Gilbert had memorized the work schedule of 'the cute pizza boy' and also because he could also afford the heinous delivery charges.


And tonight, Gilbert would profess his undying devotion – mainly because his refrigerator was running out of the room for the leftovers and he didn't want to buy another one.

It would have probably have helped his cause to build up a repertoire with Matthew that included topics of conversation other than confirmation of his order and monetary exchanges. To begin with, an exchange of names would have been useful.

But Gilbert had meticulously prepared for this moment. About five minutes prior to the predicted time Matthew would arrive, he had scribbled 'Love u, bang me' on a nearby napkin. 'Please?' had been mentally amended a few moments later, if only for a measure of common courtesy.


"I love you. Can I fuck you… please?" was Gilbert's speech verbatim. Preparation had been key to his successful delivery.

"That will be $12.50," was Matthew's rather bored-sounding response. He was accustomed to filtering out the deranged driveling of the customers.

"Oh no, you're worth so much than that…"


Matthew's boss had not been very pleased to find $12.50 worth of cash missing from the cash register when he finished up the books later that night.


Gilbert supposed he didn't have room in his fridge for the medium meat lover's pizza with a side order of cinnamon sticks, anyway. He did have room for a shirtless delivery boy dribbling hot icing down his chin and onto his chest while he did unmentionable things to a very phallic, spiced bread item, however.


Gilbert skipped ordering pizzas the next evening, opting for three orders of cinnamon sticks and a side order of breadsticks for good measure.

"I love you. Can I fuck you… please?"

"That will be $10.08."

"Do you like cinnamon sticks?"

"No."

At least this time Gilbert did not end up with cheese and tomato sauce smashed into his hair and Matthew didn't have to end up paying off his debts using his tip money again.


Matthew still didn't know that the love of his life was on the other side of Door 54C, but he was beginning to recognize a pattern in the door's appearance.

That pattern being is that it appeared daily.


"I love you. Can I fuck you–?"

"Did you order the small mushroom pizza?"

"–pleeeeeease?"


At this point, Matthew began to realize that, along with Door 54C, a certain psychotically horny man was also an unpleasant repetition during his work week.


"I love you. Can I fuck you? Please?"

"That will be $15.30."

If the lunatic didn't tip so damn well – an act that Gilbert hoped symbolized his pure-hearted devotion to the delivery boy; it reminded Matthew of bribery-bordering-on-prostitution more than he was comfortable with, but fuck, he needed the cash – Matthew would have reported the pale-haired creep long ago.


"I love you. Can I fuck you? Please?"

"One order of cheesy bread?"

Gilbert nodded, and before he had a chance to open his mouth, Matthew shoved the bag of bread into his arms.

"That will be $3.69."

"That's an awesome place to start." He winked. "Why argue over who penetrates who at this point in our relationship?"

Matthew was not a blushing virgin, but at that point, he certainly looked like it.

"I'd show you an awesome time," Gilbert purred, leaning closer to Matthew as the delivery boy took three very large steps back.

Gilbert wished he could make the delivery boy blush in an entirely naughtier manner.


"I love you. Can I please fuck you?"

"Do you even know my name?" Matthew asked, and wasn't entirely sure whether a response of 'yes' or 'no' would be more disconcerting in this instance.

"These emotions run too deep for superficial things like names to matter."

Matthew narrowed his eyes slightly; this creep was starting to sound an awful lot like Francis. "You owe me $12.50," he said instead.

Matthew's tip was well over 50% that evening. He wondered vaguely as he shoved the bills into his back jean pocket what job the red-eyed freak had to be able to spend so excessively and indiscriminately.

Gilbert would think of his actions as being anything but indiscriminate, if his only thoughts were not otherwise engaged with how much he would prefer it if it was his hand slipping into those jeans.


Gilbert began paying for his meals with a credit card. Matthew only realized, after the fifth night of this change in their routine, that it was so Gilbert could surreptitiously jot down his phone number while signing the receipt.

Call me ;)

I love you

We'd be awesome together!

…were about how much Gilbert could write without seeming to take a suspiciously long time.

Matthew wasn't sure why the guy insisted upon this façade of stealth when he had been rather direct when hitting on Matthew previously. He had already been asking to fuck Matthew a consistent five times a week for the past two months.


"I love you. Can I fuck you?"

Gilbert, who at this point had begun to contemplate the possibility of unrequited love, felt that pleasantries were no longer require in such desperate circumstances.

"I'm really not gay, you know," was Matthew's insincere reply, but there was no need to encourage the creep.


"My name is Gilbert, what's yours?"

If Matthew had known labeling himself as a heterosexual would have caused this 'Gilbert' to take up a more normal line of inquiry, he would have claimed he was straight from the very start of this… whatever it was.

Gilbert would have considered 'this' to be courtship, but he also considered a complete stranger – that is, his delivery boy – to be everything he needed in someone… and more as a someone he needed to be in.

"Matt. Sign here."

"Short for Matthew?"

Matthew nodded in confirmation. "Here's your receipt."


"Andy?"

"Who?"

"What about Andy?"

"What about him?"

"Not him, you."

"Come again?"

"Haven't come at all yet, would you like to fix that?"

Matthew's mouth opened and closed silently for a few moments, not sure exactly how the conversation had arrived at this point, but he had been lost since his most embarrassingly devout customer had answered the door.

"Do you mind if I call you Mattie?"

"Yes." Only his brother called him 'Mattie,' and that was bad enough already.

"Okay… What about Birdie?"

"Yes."

"Yes, I can call you Birdie?" Gilbert's voice had picked up in excitement.

"No, you can't," Matthew corrected.

"Why did you say 'yeah,' then?"

"Jailbird?"

"What? No! That doesn't make any sense."

"What about–"

"Look!" Matthew interrupted, almost losing his grip on Gilbert's food as he threw one of his arms up in the air. "It's Matthew or Matt, not anything else. Alright?"


Matthew picked up the boxes off the counter, sliding them into the hotbox. Grabbing the list of addresses, his eyes automatically trained onto the '54C' that he had known would appear at some point during the evening.


Matthew had recently began to wonder how the older man ate so much pizza. It should have been physically impossible. Mostly, he wondered how the man ate so much and still managed to remain as fit as he did. It wasn't as though Matthew had sought out the sight of the man's physique when he showed up at the door, hair tousled, in low slung boxer shorts, leaning on the arm raised to rest on the doorframe, which made his shirt ride up…

Matthew wasn't sure why the man was so insistent upon asking someone so utterly unremarkable as him for a night in bed, either, when the guy always looked so thoroughly fucked when he answered the door.

Could he be jacking off?

Matthew's cheeks flushed in complete horror. Actually, it was ninety-five percent horror, and five percent embarrassment, but those were only the details.

He dearly hoped that his mentally impaired customer did not consume all the pizza he ordered, because it would only confirm his suspicions that the freak couldn't be entirely human.


"Despite having tomato sauce, pizzas won't actually fulfill your daily nutritional needs," Matthew said as soon as the door to 54C opened, before Gilbert even had a chance to greet him.

Gilbert smirked. "Concerned for my well-being? Falling madly in love with me?"

"Just saying that maybe you should cut back on the pizzas," Matthew replied, holding out the food he had brought for the older man. "Maybe you should have a salad. A fruit salad would be even better."

The older man cocked an eyebrow, looking almost genuinely concerned. "But then how would I see you?"

Matthew smiled sweetly. "That's the point. You wouldn't. Now, sign here."


"It's not as though I eat it all, you know," Gilbert said the next night as he opened the door and saw his usual delivery boy standing there.

"Then you probably have a lifetime supply of leftovers," Matthew said thoughtfully.

"Nah, not enough room in the fridge."

"Ah, of course."

They were silent for a moment, before Gilbert asked, "Don't you want to know what I do with it all? It's awesome."

"Not really, no," Matthew replied truthfully.


"Fine, okay, so what do you do with it?"

"With what?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow as he took the pizzas from Matthew's hands, setting them aside.

"The extra pizza," Matthew clarified. "What do you do with them?"

Gilbert grinned. "Spent all night and day thinking about me, have you?"

"About what a creep you are, sure."

Gilbert fist-pumped victoriously. "So you were!" he exclaimed.

Matthew rolled his eyes and grimaced. "You done?" he asked.

"I–"

"If you make one comment about anything remotely sexual–"

"What? You'll spank me?"

Matthew bristled. "I said–"

"I meant nothing perverse by it. You have suuuuch a dirty mind, Mattie."

Yes, Matthew's shiver was definitely caused by having his ear tickled by the husky whispering of his insane customer. Gilbert dearly hoped it was because he was succeeding in seducing a straight man. Matthew dearly hoped it was in disgust because this guy was a real sleazy creep.

"Just sign the receipt," he muttered.

Matthew hadn't been previously aware that he had begun to neglect customer-employee protocol, but he was pretty sure calling a customer a creep and slamming an open pizza onto their head was generally frowned upon in customer service.


A/N ;; Did I not say it was crack? Did I not say? Man, I've kind of always wanted to write a sleazebag!Prussia and a frustrated!sarcastic!Canada. Well, here's my chance! If you guys aren't into this story, I would totally understand. It's not everyone's cup of tea, but whatever, I think this is going to be a lot of fun for me.

This was originally created in the format of a one-shot. Can you guys tell? This is going to be the style of writing for this story.

But if you happened to like this story, why not drop a review?