Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Cross-posted from Hentai Contest

Title: Going Home
Rating: OT
Author: kira
Chars/Pairs: Gilbert (Prussia), Fred (Frederick the Great)
Genres: AU, slice of life
Warnings: Human AU
Word Count: 861
Summary: Runaway Gilbert has a cup of coffee with a stranger…
Author’s note: Thanks to my beta Jen for looking this over for me.

Gilbert stood on the street corner, freezing his ass off. He had also not eaten in two days, on account of the holidays. Who wants to buy sex when there are presents to buy for family and friends? He tried not to look miserable when a light snow began to fall. That meant sleeping in the subway with local winos or risk staying at a homeless shelter. The last time he did that he was raped by a schizophrenic, who was off his meds. Gilbert considered himself lucky that’s all that had happened as the man was dangerously close to slitting his throat. No, he would rather freeze to death in some alleyway than relive that horror again.

Lost in thought, he shivered as he leaned against the street light. Its bright glow did nothing to warm him. Gilbert wondered if he should jump the turnstile and hang out in the subway for a while. He figured he could ride the rails for a bit until he got bored. He knew he could safely sleep there and if they caught him, he could always bullshit his way out of any trouble with the transit cops.

“Hey, kid, where’s your winter coat?”

“Don’t have one,” Gilbert said as he turned around to see who was hassling him. “You gonna keep me warm instead, old man?” The guy, who looked to be about his father’s age, laughed and while Gilbert bristled a bit at that, he was glad he had not walked away. He figured if he looked pathetic enough, the guy would buy him a Big Mac and some fries in exchange for a quick blowjob in the bathroom.

“You have a name? Mine’s Fred.” The man started unbuttoning his coat.

“Fred?” Gilbert snorted.

Fred nodded. “So you have a name?”

“Yeah, it’s Gil.”

Fred took off his coat and handed it to Gilbert. “Take it; you look cold, Gil.”

Gilbert eyed him warily, weighing his options. If he took the coat, he would be a lot warmer, but then “Fred” could claim he stole it. Not such a bad idea in theory, but the thought of spending time in Riker’s until they arraigned him… Gilbert would rather freeze to death. He did not need some stupid ass cop show to tell him that was no place to be, especially during the holidays when he could get lost in the system. He had been raped once and had no desire to repeat that experience. “Nah… I’m okay,” he said, refusing to take the coat.

Fred shrugged. “Suit yourself, Gil. Anyway, there’s a Starbucks a block from here, you want join me for a cup?”

Gilbert’s eyes lit up. Warmth and food; he felt like he won lotto. If this guy wanted him to blow him, Gilbert decided he would make it extra special for him. “Can I get a croissant too?”

“You have two if you want.” Fred smiled. “Let’s go.”

They walked in companionable silence to the Starbucks. Gilbert drank in the warmth when they stepped inside. He went to find a seat, which was not all that hard as the place was relatively empty, while his benefactor and possible John went to get the coffee. It was not long before Fred was sitting across from him, watching Gilbert trying hard not to scarf down the two croissants.

“So, uh… tell me about yourself, Gil.”

“What’s to tell? I’m Gil,” he said flippantly, feeling a lot better now that he was out of the cold and he had some food in his stomach.

“I’ll tell you about myself if you want,” Fred said and that was how Gilbert learned he had runaway when he was sixteen with his music teacher and how he had eventually wound up playing flute for the New York Philharmonic Orchestra. It struck a chord with the teen and before he knew it, Gilbert was spilling his guts too.

Gilbert stuffed the last bite of croissant in his mouth. After swallowing it, he cautiously began telling this stranger about his experience in the homeless shelter and how something inside kind of died for him then, and how he scrounged around on the streets, trying to survive. When Gilbert started crying, Fred fished out his cell phone and handed it to him.

“Why don’t you call home?”

“I can’t. They, they hate me there.”

“I’m sure they don’t, Gil.” Fred sighed. “They’ll be relieved to hear from you. Trust me, I know.”

Gilbert did not look so sure about it, but the urge to hear his father’s voice and his younger brother’s was too strong, when it hit him just how much he missed them. He picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey, Vati… It’s me, Gil… yeah, I’m sorry, I worried you… And Vati? I want to come home… I miss you and Lutz… yeah… I’m in the city at a Starbucks.” He gave him the address, before hanging up. “Thanks, Fred.” He handed the phone back.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… I’m going home.” Gilbert flashed him a cocky grin and for the first time in a long time, he actually meant it. He was finally going home…


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 29th, 2014 09:46 pm (UTC)
A strange tale of odd redemption - but very unlike most of your other tales: very gritty, very stark - very beautiful! :D I loved it for it's brittle fragile joy :D
Dec. 29th, 2014 10:05 pm (UTC)
Yeah... I have no idea where it came from. XD All I know is I had an image of Prussia freezing his arse off in my head & it sort of wrote itself. XD

But I'm glad you like this different tale of mine! Thanks! <3

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


the Duchess of Crack! and the Queen of Fluff

Latest Month

October 2018


Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow