Work Text:
October 1995
He started when he heard the slam on the table and Erszi’s triumphant whoop, followed by Gilbert’s louder “Fucking hell!” and he let out a sigh. He wasn’t quite sure how his “birthday” had devolved into a drinking and arm-wrestling contest between the two, but he should have seen it coming. Francis and Antonio weren’t making things any better with their betting pool, and he began to fear for his furniture with the way everyone was carrying on. Roderich felt a smile tug on his lips as he shook his head, making his way back into the living room where Erzsi and Gilbert were going “best two out of three.”
Still, it was nice to see them getting along. For the moment.
He heard another wave of cheers and another very loud, very colourful series of expletives that gave even him pause, before he stepped outside onto the terrace, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his cigarette case.
Roderich was in the process of lighting his cigarette, struggling to spark the lighter, and he huffed in irritation. Before he could try again, he was interrupted by the sound of the glass door opening and closing, and familiar heavy footfalls behind him.
“Need a light, little master?” Gilbert asked, holding his own lighter out to the brunet.
He stared at the blond for a beat, but when Gilbert went to bring his arm back down, Roderich said, “Wait, yes, actually. I apologise, but yes I do “need a light.” He brought the cigarette to his mouth, leaning forward, and quirked a brow when Gilbert just stood there, before he must have realised he was meant to actually use his lighter.
Gilbert flicked the lighter open and ignited it, holding it up so Roderich could lean in and, closing his eyes, touch his cigarette to the little flame. He breathed in, already feeling that familiar lightness in his head, and pulled away, letting the silver smoke escape his mouth in an ephemeral stream. When he opened his eyes, he caught Gilbert staring.
To fill the silence that grew between them, Roderich asked, “Erzsi beat you, then?”
Even in the dim light he could see the ruddiness of Gilbert’s wounded ego heat his face, even to the point the tips of his ears were tinted.
“Hey, I’m not quite at the top of my game, yet. Give me some time, four-eyes,” Gilbert replied, half-mumbled, but without heat as he searched through his jacket pockets, probably looking for his own cigarettes.
And honestly, he didn’t know where Gilbert got his ridiculous nicknames from; he was well-aware that Roderich’s preference for eyewear was strictly an aesthetic choice, unless he needed to read but he felt that was different. But Roderich didn’t bother to say anything about the name, and just nodded.
Instead, he asked, “How have you been settling in at Ludwig’s?”
“Hmm?” Gilbert hummed, cigarette pursed between his lips as he lit it, the flash of firelight briefly illuminating his face; he’d filled out a bit since he’d last seen him, his cheeks no longer so hollow. The last few years with Ivan had, apparently, been difficult for him.Taking a long drag, Gilbert held his breath for a moment before exhaling, and was quiet for a time, but once the smoke had completely dissipated, he shrugged and said, “It’s been fine. I try to help out where I can. Not much for me to do anymore, you know?” Then he snorted and said, “Not that you would know; you’ve always let the humans run most things.”
Stung, Roderich gave Gilbert a hard look, and he saw the blond stiffen before Rodeerich shifted his attention away, back to the evening, taking a moment to enjoy the cool air. “Sometimes to my own detriment, I suppose,” he replied, finally, and took another drag.
“I didn’t mean anything by that, li–Roderich,” Gilbert coughed. “It was a dumb joke–”
“What was the joke, Gilbert?”
“Oh, come on, Roderich, you know I–”
Roderich held up a hand, mildly surprised when Gilbert actually fell silent. “Stop. I overreacted,” he admitted. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, and I’m a bit…well, ‘nervy,’ I guess would be the best way to describe it.” He’d, perhaps, been thinking too much, lately. Erzsi was probably right; he needed to leave the house more frequently. Perhaps he would pay Johann a visit as it grew closer to the holidays. He hadn’t seen the man in some time; even the birthday gift he was given had been delivered by courier.
“I’m sorry, you know,” Gilbert blurted, and Roderich’s attention snapped right back to the other man. He must have appeared confused, because Gilbert pressed on. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I’m just…I’m sorry.”
“Whatever for?” Roderich queried, without bite or sarcasm, as this sudden apology was a bit over-the-top for a harmless, offhand remark.
“Just…you know. Things,” he mumbled, and Roderich decided to not press further. Before Roderich could say anything else, Gilbert spoke again. “Enjoying your party, at least?”
“Oh, yes, of course. I’ve just not been feeling like myself; the party really is lovely. Unless you and Erzsebet destroyed my parlour.”
“Relax, your furniture is safe. S’just my wallet that took the hit,” Gilbert groused. When Roderich tilted his head to the side, he clarified, “I gotta buy Liz drinks next time we go out. Crazy bitch can drink like a sailor.”
Roderich crossed his arms and raised his brows, watching as Gilbert gave a small, boyish grin. “I’m sure you’ll manage,” he told him, overlooking Gilbert’s use of “crazy bitch” to describe his ex-wife. It was just how they were with each other, and he couldn’t imagine it changing any time soon. Their relationship had always somewhat mystified Roderich; he knew they’d been quite close, centuries ago, but something between them had turned antagonistic despite their obvious fondness for each other. He assumed that whatever happened had been Gilbert’s fault, anyway.
They fell silent again, and dimly Roderich could hear everyone inside chatting and drinking, muffled as it were, Roderich just listening to the sounds of life in his home. It was nice to have people in his home, again, and he felt a smile try to cross his lips. He really should host more often, perhaps not as often as he used to, but once in a while. And he admitted to himself that he enjoyed even the present company; it had been a long time–for a great number of reasons–since they were able to stand like this: side by side, enjoying the evening air and making idle chit chat.
He glanced up at the sky, remembering a time when the sky was less hazy, less luminous, and one would be able to see even faint stars and the gossamer ribbon that was the Way of Saint James. Nowadays, the sky glowed fuschia under the right conditions, and he thought that maybe he should make a trip out to Switzerland, perhaps to do some skiing as well. Roderich turned to see what Gilbert might be doing, only to find the other man gazing at him, a softness in his strange eyes that looked more violet under the night sky. A softness he made a point to ignore that last few years.
“I got you a gift, by the way,” Gilbert said. Roderich moved to face the other man again, and noticed the small giftbox in his hand.
Roderich frowned. “You didn’t have to–”
“I know,” he interrupted, “but I wanted to. It’s your party after all, Specs.” Gilbert passed the box into Roderich’s more slender hands, letting his own linger atop of them perhaps longer than strictly necessary. He supposed Gilbert didn’t want him to drop it. He hoped it wasn’t fragile. “Just do me a favour,” he continued, “and open that after I leave, okay?”
Wh-” he began, but Gilbert cut him off before he could even finish the first syllable.
“Can you just–can you just do that?”
Unwilling to break the fragile tranquility, Roderich nodded, and placed the box on the side table, next to the ashtray where his cigarette had long since burned itself out. “Thank you, Gilbert.”
“Psh, don’t thank me yet. You haven’t even seen it,” Gilbert teased, playful grin back on his face as he snuffed out his own cigarette by pinching it, and Roderich felt something in his chest settle.
Then, he glared at the blond. “It isn’t something ridiculous, is it?”
Gilbert didn’t say anything, and instead his grin only grew, making Roderich’s scowl deepen, but Gilbert didn’t keep him in suspense for very long. He laughed, “Nah, don’t worry. Nothing like that. Not today.”
Roderich watched him for another few seconds before he relaxed again and rolled his eyes at his companion. “I don’t know why you insist on doing that to me,” he complained. “You know it just gets me wound up.”
“I like winding you up,” Gilbert stated. Before Roderich had a chance to reply, Gilbert leaned down and pressed a soft, warm kiss to his cheek. “Happy Birthday, little master,” he murmured. He paused for a moment, holding Roderich’s gaze with his own, before placing another kiss on his forehead and turning to go back inside to the warm glow of company.
At the sound of the door clicking shut, he turned to look at the little box on the table, small and unassuming, the ribbon dancing on the evening breeze as they both stayed under the neon sky.