It was a Saturday night and as usual you were in a fight with your older brother Arthur. "Come on Artie let me you!"
"Do you know what kind of guys are actually at those parties _____________?"
"You go to those parties," you snapped back.
His face went red with anger, "Exactly my point, this is my chance to get drunk and not give a damn about the consequences I don't want you there!"
"The British dude is right," Alfred said.
You crossed your arms, "It's not fair."
"Life's not fair," Arthur snipped. "Come on Al, we're leaving."
"W-wait for me," Matthew said quietly following them out the door.
"It's not fair!" you pouted collapsing onto the couch.
A voice from the other side of the couch giggled, "Ohonhon~."
You snapped up, "Hello?"
"Ohonhon~."
"Francis, what the hell are you doing in my house?" You threw a pillow at the offending Frenchman.
Francis smiled, "I couldn't help overhearing your problem cheri, and I have the perfect solution."
"Yeah and what's that?" you asked sarcastically.
"Go to the party!"
You let out a dry laugh, "Ha ha very funny Francis. And how would I do that? Hmm? I have no way to get there."
Francis twirled his keys on his finger, "I have a car~!"
Your eyes widened, "You would do that for me?"
"Oui, but first…"
"I'm not kissing you," you said in a monotone.
"Madmoizelle, I am offended!" He said putting his hand on his heart, "You hurt me. I'm going to help you get ready."
You looked down at your clothes. "What's wrong wi-."
With that Francis grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs to your bedroom.
After about an hour of work you looked at yourself in the mirror. "I-I look good." You were wearing a small black dress with a pair of black flats. You hair had been curled and put into an elegant bun, a few locks of hair escaping the bun to fall to your neck in an alluring fashion.
"Non cheri," Francis said hugging you from behind, "you look beautiful."
You blushed, "Thanks Francis."
"No problem," he said, "now let's get you to that party."

One drive later…

Bright lights and loud music emanated from the house. It wasn't your typical two story, three bedroom, two bathroom kind of house. It was sleek and modern, a white building with nicely trimmed bushes.
You stepped out of the car, "Oh and remember _________," Francis called, "I'll be back to pick you up at midnight!"
You nodded and ran in to join the party.
Teens danced in a sweaty jubilee of bodies. You watched and it was exactly like Alfred had told you. All eyes looked to you. That's when you saw him, his hair was silver. Eyes bored into you like two uncut rubies.
He approached you, "Hey," he said breathless, probably from all the dancing. "I'm Gilbert, do you want to dance?"
You nodded and took his hand.
The next song that came on was slow and quite romantic. The two of you only looked at each other, not needing words. For what seemed like hours you danced to the slow songs that gently made their way to your ears.
"You're really beautiful," he whispered leaning down to about an inch from your lips.
You blushed, "Th-thank you."
"I really mean it," he said leaning closer to your lips. Finally they touched with a flurry of emotion and passion. He quickly darted his tongue into your mouth and frenched you right there on the dance floor. The two of you pulled apart almost hesitantly, "Want to go upstairs?"
You giggled and nodded, letting him lead you to his room.
"Wow," he whispered as the two of you started kissing on his bed, "you're really hot."
"I think you've said that before," you whispered into his ear as he started to make his way down your neck with kisses.
His hand traveled south as he groaned, "Mein Gott, I think I'm in love."
Just as both of you got undressed you noticed the clock. "Oh crap," you said pushing Gilbert off. "Oh crap," you moaned jumping out of bed and slipping back into the dress. Putting your shoes back on as you ran off.
"Hey, wait!"
It was too late, you were already gone.
Gilbert looked down at the floor, a black lacy bra. He picked it up and looked at the doorway. He smirked. Gilbert Beillschmidt always got his girl.

Two days later…

"Excuse me miss is this yours?" Gilbert asked a brown haired woman who was walking with her boyfriend.
"How dare you sir!" she said slapping him.
Her boyfriend sighed, "What a rude man."
Gilbert had been slapped, kicked, even tased once or twice. Never had he been more stubborn to find one girl.
"Bruder, let's go home," Ludwig said sighing, "this is fruitless."
"Nein, just let me try Alfred's house, he knows all the chicks," Gilbert said.
Ludwig sighed and followed Gilbert to the small red bricked house.
"What do you want?" Arthur glared at Gilbert.
"I want to know if you know who's this is?" Gilbert said producing the bra.
Arthur sighed, "ALFRED!" He let the two German brothers in.
"What can I do for you?" Alfred asked.
Gilbert showed Alfred the undergarment. Alfred gave a sly smile, "Sorry Gil, I don't think black is really you color."
"It isn't mine dummkopf," he snarled, "I just want to know who's it is."
Alfred took the bra and examined it, "She's (bra size), (height), and (weight)." He took a sniff of the item, "She has (eye color) eyes and…(hair color) hair…about (hair length)."
"You got all that from a bra?" Ludwig asked surprised.
"Nah dude, I saw this thing in the wash like a week ago, its ___________'s," Alfred said grinning, "so why do you have __________'s bra?"
Gilbert blushed, "Is she here?"
"Yeah, ____________!" Alfred called.
You ran down the stairs in sweats, your hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, "What do you wa…nt…"
"You're the girl I met last night?" Gilbert asked approaching you. You nodded as he took your hand. Gently he slipped your bra on over your t-shirt. Perfect fit.
He took the sides of your face in his hands and kissed you.
"This is a bloody messed up story."
"Ja."
"Oui."
"FRANCIS GET OUT OF MY BLOODY HOUSE!"
And you all lived happily ever after…