Alrighty folks, here's mah new demontalia story! I want to give a shoutout to InsanityInReverse, since she's a dear and helping me work out the kinks, whether she knows it or not. Also, as you may notice when you read, this story will be pairings happy. There will be smudges of almost everything here, revolving around our sweet Matthew.
Pip, pip, cheerio, read on my lovelies!
Don't believe someone when they tell you their actions don't affect you, because their sin is your pain.
"GODAMMIT WILL!" Gilbert cried. "Who do you think you are?! Tessa is engaged, you prick, she has Jem now! Stop making the moves on her!" Glaring furiously at his special edition copy of Clockwork Princess, Gilbert had to wonder why Tessa hadn't kicked Herondale to the curb by now. Will had his chance, and he was too late! So why was Tess still wasting her breath, when she had Jem? It was infuriating, because Gilbert knew in his gut that Will and Tessa would end up together before the book ended.
'I mean, Tess and Jem are perfect for each other! So what if Will has a tragic past, is noble, handsome, witty and reads poetry?' Gilbert sulked. 'Jem has a tragic back story too! He's handsome! That, and completely dedicated to Tess. Who needs anything more?' The albino growled. Girls were so picky, so fickle! Like Jessamiane! Yeah, Tessa might have long brown hair, and she might be independent, beautiful, smart, and strong. But that didn't mean she's any better. "It's not an excuse..." Gilbert muttered lowly. He gave the book another glance. Maybe he could just take a peek at the last page...?
"Gilbert?" With the manliest of shrieks only a true thug like Gilbert could produce, Gilbert swiftly tossed his mutherfucking signed hardcover book over the couch and turned to face his friend, wincing inwardly when he heard the book hit the ground. '$19.99 just lying behind Alberta...'
"Gil, was that a book? Why'd you throw it like that?" Antonio questioned. He had come to fetch Gilbert for a night of partying, but was pleasantly surprised to witness the rare phenomenon of his best friend not only reading, but talking to himself over the book! And from what he had seen on the cover, it was a well-talked about book, a romance. Toni chuckled. He knew Gilbert was a sap at heart, and nothing was more amusing than seeing those special moments when the self-proclaimed Prussian gave into his true nature.
"Book?" Gil sputtered. "No, I mean, yeah it was a book, but I wasn't reading it or shit! I just found it and thought that maybe Liz left it here or something like that. It looks stupid, why would anybody read that? You'd have to pay me!" Antonio quirked a brow, but didn't reply, instead humming a mindless tune as he walked over to sit next to Gilbert on his worn leather couch. The Spaniard knew the book was much too new to have been left by Gilbert's ex; the albino liked to use that excuse almost every time Toni caught him reading a novel of some sort. He was well aware that though Gilbert could drink like a bull, snap a neck, and swear enough to make any sailor blush, the Prussian was a big softy under his thuggish appearance. But if Gil wanted to pretend that he'd never willingly touch a book in his life, well, Antonio didn't mind playing along. He supposed it was good for his friend's ego. That, and Antonio himself was a sucker for Spanish soap operas.
"You know, you really need a new couch," Antonio mentioned thoughtfully. It was old and torn in some places, but soft and easy to just fall into. Antonio had spent countless nights on this couch, and though he'd be sad to see it go, really. It had a cow design on it. It looked like something out of an 80s movie.
Gilbert, confident that the crisis was over, snorted. "You leave Alberta alone. And if I do get a new one, you'll be paying for it, since you pretty much live on her." Toni wagged a finger.
"I wouldn't have to sleep on Alberta whenever I crash here if you just bothered to clean your guest room. You've got a nice place here, Gil, you just need some motivation." Gilbert waved him off. Sure, technically, he did need to clean up, since the only clean areas in his apartment included his room (just barely) and his kitchen (Gilbert wouldn't allow anything less than perfectly hygienic in a place of cooking; he was funny like that).
"Yeah, yeah, maybe next spring. Speaking of motivation, what should motivate me not to kick your ass outta my house? I didn't let you in." Gilbert raised both brows at Antonio. They may be best friends, but Gil didn't take kindly to people breaking into his house, and it wasn't really reassuring to know someone like Toni could pick his lock.
Shrugging, Toni dropped Gilbert's spare keys onto the coffee table. The pair that had been missing for a month now. "You really need to pay more attention around me, mi amigo. I've seen you snap wrists for trying to pick-pocket you, and yet you let me literally snatch things out of your hand." Antonio draped himself over Gilbert's lap, sighing contently. Gilbert scoffed and grabbed his keys, but didn't move the dark-haired man off his lap. He knew that Toni was just as weird as he was, and it was the only reason they had such a long lasting friendship.
"It's because I make the mistaking of trusting you, you sneaky bastard." Toni perked up at his words.
"Oh, gracias! I almost forgot why I came here. You remember that cute kid that we saw picking out tomatoes at the farmers market? I saw him when I was out and about today and he invited me to a party! He even said I could bring a friend, too! Such a sweetheart, right?" Toni practically swooned. Gilbert scrunched his nose. Yeah, he remembered Lovino. After Toni had dragged him to a farmers market, they had make a beeline for the tomatoes, only for Toni and Lovino to touch hands reaching for the same fruit. For Toni it was love at first sight. Lovino had just started cursing them wildly, up until Antonio had hugged him and asked for his number. Toni hadn't gotten the number, but he did know the kid's name, and was proudly sporting a bruise from the feisty boy clocking him.
"That little shit? Doesn't he hate us?" The Spaniard beamed.
"Si, si, that's what I thought too! But when I saw him, I just had to say hi, so I started talking to him. At first he was acting all cranky, then he got this weird look on his face and invited me to his party! Ne, ne, you think he fell in love with me?" Toni was leaning on his elbows and kicking his feet behind him. For a moment, he was the exact image of a teenage girl, cooing over the fact that her crush had talked to her today. Gil felt growing concern for his friend.
"Toni," Gilbert said slowly,"are you sure the weird look on his face wasn't a need for murder? No offense, but sometimes I want to kill you, so maybe he just wants to castrate you. And me."
"Nonsense!" Toni cried, blinded by thoughts of a pouting Italian. "Gilbert, the party is in thirty minutes, get ready! You need to make a good first impression." He chided.
"He fucking hates me," Gilbert deadpanned. "Remember when he gave a very colorful and descriptive idea of what his first impression was?" Gilbert's words were swiftly ignored as Antonio forced him into a shower, skinny jeans, and a tight, black shirt.
It was only when Antonio demanded he wear cologne did Gilbert realize he was very serious about this.
This slightly disturbed Gilbert, because, honestly, the only times Antonio had ever been this passionate about anything was when it involved either tomatoes or Spanish soap operas.
But damn, Gilbert did look fine, if he did say so himself, so, really, what was the problem?
Gilbert whistled, taking one last look at himself in the mirror. "Toni, I don't know how you always make me look better than normal, but damn, I'd tap myself." Gilbert had no idea how, but whenever Toni touched something it just turned out... better. He had the magic touch, you could say. He simply improved things, and Gilbert couldn't understand why his friend didn't put it to better use than farming and making Gilbert look delectable. Well, Gilbert always looked delectable. The one thing no one, not even Toni, could make better was Gilbert's ass, and you'd have to fight him if you wanted to say different.
"Gilbert, I'm going to ignore that," Antonio said cheerfully. "Now, vamanos, everybody let's go! I know you can do it, everybody get to it! You can lead the waaaaaaay! Hey, hey~!"
"What the hell Toni, shut the fuck up, I thought we agreed you don't sing that anymore, and I won't yell at random people in German," Gilbert whined, grabbing his phone and keys. Did Antonio not understand the utter self-control it took not roundhouse kick him whenever he sang that?! Gilbert was nearly trembling, doing his best not to smack the bullshit out of his best friend who insisted on singing the fucking Dora-the-Goddamn-fucking-Explora theme song...!
"Then get your ass in gear, Gilbert, we are not going to late!" With a devilish grin and a slap to Gilbert's ass that the albino would have expected from anyone but Antonio, he was steered from his living room to his car, a lovely 1972 Cadillac that was appropriately named 'Silver Duckie'.
"Shit," Gilbert cursed, "I forgot to lock the front door. Should we turn around?"
"I did." Gilbert checked his quickly pockets. Both sets of keys were still there.
"What did you think I was doing when I met Lovi today?" And Gilbert swore, swore on his life that at that moment, the twitch on Antonio's lips was less than innocent.
Hell, it was almost a smirk.
What was the world coming to?
"You didn't have to do all this, Lovino."
Lovino glared at Matthew. "Well fuck, Matt, don't you think it's a little too late for that?" Matthew snorted, hopping down from his perch on the Italian's grand staircase.
"Lovi, I've been telling you that for the past week. I think you're the one that's a little too late." The Canadian stretched lazily, hands over his head, enjoying the satisfying crack as his joints popped into place. He had been sitting up there for way too long, but at least the wards were set up.
"Shut up. I told you that it's the least I can do. Plus, you need to that bastard face to face, right? And I was already planning a party. It has nothing to do with you," Lovino huffed out, in his default mood: irritated. Matthew gave him an amused look but didn't press the subject. He knew Lovi wouldn't want any kindness on his part acknowledged.
Matt spread his fingers and raised them up, balancing on the tips of his toes. 'Reach for the stars,' He told himself. There was a loud 'pop' and the blond sighed. "You really are rich, Lovi." He mentioned, looking up at the murals on the ceiling. "I don't quite understand why you share it with me. You'd get more brownie points if you donated or something, wouldn't you?" The Italian frowned.
"I don't share it with anyone, and I'm sure as hell not donating. There's a million rich fucks out there; why can't they do it?" When Matthew quirked a brow and frowned, Lovi looked away, careful not to spill any drinks. "I might donate," He grumbled. "But you're pretty damn expensive, you know that?"
"Lovi," Matthew whined, "you make me sound like some type of prostitute." There was a choked back shriek and a dozen beers crashed to the floor.
"Fuck," Lovino swore, "Why would you say that? We haven't even- You're not- I mean, not that I wouldn't, but- Shit Matt, why can't you keep your mouth shut?" The Italian snapped, a furious red. Matthew giggled.
"Calm down, Lovi, it was just a joke." When the hazel eyes narrowed at him, Matthew continued, not at all intimidated. "I mean, I know you only keep me around for the non-existant sex, but really, chill. Don't you think it's normal for someone like me?" There was another strangled cry (Matthew just loved those) and the dark-haired man turned on his heel, eager to get away from the mess he made, physically and verbally.
Returning with a mop and a bucket of soapy water, Lovino watched his friend (possibly best) warily. The blond was silent, stretching in odd and near impossible ways, that though gave Lovino less than innocent ideas, was not the current issue at the moment. Yeah, he was Italian, but he could keep it in his pants, unlike a certain Frenchman. Ugh. Francis was the ultimate man-whore and it was a wonder he hadn't caught anything. But if you asked Lovino, he probably had caught something, and he could only pray that nothing would infect Matt... With an angry snort, he banished thoughts of the flamboyant blond, Lovino instead thought of Matthew.
Gorgeous, intelligent, witty Matthew. Shy, withdrawn, trembling Matthew. Insecure, tear-stained, broken Matthew. Proud, determined, strong Matthew. Deadly, sly, dangerous Matthew.
Either way his Canadian was damned. And yes, Matthew was his Canadian. It didn't matter that they weren't going out, or even had a slightly sexual relationship. It didn't matter that they were literally polar opposites. Nothing mattered when it came to Matthew, and Lovino only dared to hope the silent blond had the same thought process.
"You know you don't need to take care of me." Lovino drew his brows together in confusion. What was he talking about?
"What the fuck are you going on about now, Maple Bastard? Do I look like a fucking maid. Do I look like your damn mommy. Do I?" Lovino snarled. Matthew studied him for a moment.
"No," He finally decided, "You don't. Not at all, actually." The Italian rolled his eyes.
"Well shit, who would've guessed?" He snapped.
"I would have, obviously," Matthew answered patiently.
There was another long drawn out silence that wasn't quite appreciated, but not at all hated. It was quiet. Not comfortable, but not awkward. Just like their relationship.
"But really, I mean it. We both know that you being around me so much isn't helping your suspension. Someone's bound to notice."
Lovino scoffed. "Those fuckers don't care, Matteo. I could be fucking Francis and they'd still beg for me to come back at the end of the day. I bet Feli's giving Kiku a headache right now, crying at his feet, pleading for them to end my suspension... It happens every time." But still, Matthew persisted unrelentingly.
"I know that the reason you hang around me isn't just because you want to fuck me, Lovino. You wouldn't be able to stand me if I was loose." There was something in Matthew's voice that Lovino didn't like. Not one bit. Matt was normally a stable person, but things could get to him, and if he was on one of his bouts of insecurity...
"And how do you know that, Matteo?" Lovino ground out between clenched teeth. It was this Matthew Lovino couldn't understand. There was always a double-meaning behind his words, some type of suspicion, and for the life of him, the Italian didn't understand where it came from. One minute he was spilling his guts to you, the next he was clamped tight, like some sort of prude.
"Because then you would have gotten rid of me a long time ago," Matthew said honestly, and Lovino had to admit it was true. He couldn't stand sluts. And even if it was wonderful, smiling Matthew, Lovi didn't have exceptions.
Lovino folded his arms and sighed wearily. "Then what do you want me to do, Matt? Tell you you're pretty and that you have a great personality?" Matthew pursed his lips and scowled, an expression better suited for Lovino. It looked wrong on his face; a small smile or a devilish grin would have been more appropriate.
"No, I just want to know why. You do so much for me. And I can't understand. I mean, throwing this party when we both know I hate parties and that you'll just end up in a drinking and swearing contest, so that I can talk to my charge. You're really too sweet to me, Lovi." It suddenly dawned on Lovino that maybe Matthew didn't understand him. Lovino actually was purposefully nicer around the blond, but it wasn't for some deep reason. He just hadn't wanted to scare Matthew away at first, and the habit stuck. Letting a small smirk play at his lips, the handsome Italian closed his eyes. He might as well tell Matthew why he helped him so much. It wasn't embarrassing, considering his true nature.
"It's just that, with you and your brother," Lovi started gruffly, "I get how you fucking feel. If me and Feli were different, I think I'd be in the exact same damn situation as you. I know you think you're some sort of shitty monster, and I can't say you aren't, because you can be a fucking scary bastard, you damned fucker, but that doesn't mean you need to isolate yourself. You start talking to someone and once they know about you, you just get the fuck out there, like they're gonna hurt you or some shit like that. It's fucking frustrating, especially when I have to talk about it with a STD infested bastard like Francis. No one's out to get you yet, so take advantage of it. Fucker." Lovino finished almost fondly.
Matthew stared at Lovino for a long moment. That was the reason why he was so generous with Matthew, somewhat caring? Because he was a lonely nutcase?
"I want to hug you."
"Don't fucking hug me." Lovino wanted that hug.
"But," He added, "If anyone asks, it is just because I want to screw you, okay? Don't go telling people I'm some type of fucking sap, capiche?"
"Capiche," Matthew confirmed.
Continuing to mop up his mess (What the fuck was in beer? It seemed to multiply...), Lovino had to wonder something. But would it be rude? It was a touchy subject with Matt...
Ah, fuck, Lovino was the epitome of rude.
"And so he just threw the book under his bed and started stuttering, it was so cute, Lovi-"
"When was the last time you saw your brother?" Lovino cut in suddenly, throwing caution to the wind. So what if Matthew had nearly skinned Ivan alive for asking the same question? Lovino was a bad mutherfucker. Shit didn't scare him.
But he felt quite anxious for Matthew's answer.
The Canadian laughed.
I shit you not, over the subject that others had been flayed for, Matthew Williams had a laugh. A damn good one at that.
Fan-fucking-tastic. Matteo had finally lost his shit. Maybe the idea that Lovi wasn't an entirely heartless bastard had been too much...?
"Dear... Lucy... Lovino..." Alright, what the absolute fuck was going on here? The blond was just about choking, holding his sides as he shook, tears dripping down his face.
"Did I break you?" The Italian prompted. Francis would have an aneurism when he heard.
"No... Two weeks ago, I went shopping for Francis, and Al was there... The look on his face... Lovino, you should have seen, it was hilarious!" The Canadian took his sweet time explaining, bouts of giggles interrupting all the way through. Lovino paled. Did he mean...?
"Shopping... For Francis?" Matt nodded his head, wiping tears from his indigo eyes.
"Mhmm. Three boxes of chocolate flavored condoms, four containers of rose scented lube, and a ball gag. Lovino, the look on Al's face... I didn't even need to run, all I had to do was throw a vibrator at him, and he started sputtering and turning red, I laughed all the way home! He hasn't tried to contact me since! Gosh, if I knew all I needed to get him to leave me alone were a few sex toys, I would have gotten rid of him years ago!" Lovino cackled.
"A vibrator?! Didn't Francis get mad you didn't deliver all his goods?" It was well-known the Frenchman was very picky about his sexy times.
"No," Matthew said dismissively, cleaning tears off his glasses, "It was mine. Come to think of it, I need to go back and get another."
Lovino started coughing violently. Matthew rushed over, patting his friend firmly on the back, concern evident on his pretty face. "Are you okay?" He asked worriedly. Could Lovi get sick? To get such a harsh fit so easily...
"I am not fucking okay!" Lovino nearly screeched. "You just told me you needed a new vibrator!" Matthew pouted.
"Not a new one. My first..." He trailed off, watching as Lovi was started choking again. Understanding hit him like a ray of sunshine. Oh...!
He'd not be damned if that wasn't just adorable. Sometimes he forgot how innocent Lovino had to be, despite his infamous mouth.
"Lovino..." Matthew chuckled. Bending down, the blond raised Lovino's chin and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to the corner of the Italian's mouth. He exploded into a dangerous shade of red, the exact color of the tomatoes he liked so much, and Matthew fell into another fit of giggles. Almost nothing could compare to teasing Lovino, and if he didn't know he would get hell for it later, Matt might've done it more often.
Reaching into Lovino's back pocket (earning a mortified squeak), Matthew entered the password to Lovino's phone and looked at his new text. His grin only continued to widen as he read it.
"Antonio and Gilbert are on their way~!" He sang. "They should arrive around the same time as everyone else." Lovino snatched his phone back, not even bothering to look Matt in the face.
"You're too open," Lovino accused.
"Honestly, only with you, cher." Snaking an arm around Lovino's waist, Matthew sighed.
"We really are no good together," He murmured. And he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Laughing as Lovino pushed him away, sputtered cries and insults being ignored, Mattie fluttered to the other side of the room to get the stereos ready.
"You know," Matthew casually called out, "You just might get that fuck if you keep acting so sweet, Lovi."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you effectively get an angry Italian to shut up.
Around the end, I felt as if I was writing a scene between England and France.
Hmm, so how was it? The scene with Lovi and Mattie was a bit longer than expected, and the one with Gil and Toni was shorter. In this story, Mattie will purposefully be a bit darker, a bit more playful and teasing than normal, kay? He's still going to be a sweetheart, I'm just adding a French streak to him.
BTW, any Infernal Devices fans, I meant no bashing on Will, he's perfectly dandy and I love him. I just love Jem more and Gilbo does too :3