a/n: Okay, like it says in the summary, I'm planning this as a four part story, featuring the following pairings: Roderich/Vash, Gilbert/Elizaveta, Feliciano/Ludwig, Lovino/Antonio, Francis/Arthur, Alfred/Ivan, Toris/Feliks, Yao/Yong Soo, Herakles/Kiku. I'm kind of nervous about trying to write a fic longer than two chapters (lol, sad but true) but what the heck, I love all these pairings so much it's worth a shot. Each part will probably be around three chapters, although part one is looking like it might be four. I apologize in advance for my inconsistent writing style OTL

Gilbert had never been what one might call a particularly patient person. Everything he did, he did expecting instant gratification.

Needless to say, waiting five minutes for Elizaveta to answer her goddamn door was not sitting well with him.

"Lizzie!" he'd hollered for a few minutes. "Lizzie it's me, it's Gilbert, now open up! C'mon! It's me!"

Now he was sitting on the stone steps leading up to the door and leaning hoarsely against the rail. Just as he began to contemplate kicking the door down, Elizaveta appeared on the sidewalk, emerging from her car with a look of exasperation on her face.

"Hi, Gil," she said wearily as he bounced to his feet.

"Oh, hey Liz," he said with a sneer. "Good of you to show up."

"Maybe if you called ahead like a normal person we wouldn't have this problem," she snapped, unlocking the door. She led him down a hallway filled with stuffy, ancient-looking paintings and portraits, and into the old-fashioned sitting room, one corner of which was occupied by a gleaming grand piano. Gilbert immediately crossed the room to shut the lid on it, concealing the ivory keys from sight. He turned back to Elizaveta, who had curled up on one of the couches.

"So where were you?"

"Dropping Roderich off," she replied. "I'd have thought you might have figured that one out, seeing as he teaches the same time every single day - "

"I have better things to do than keep track of what your dork-ass hubbie does," Gilbert said scornfully.

"Don't call him that," Elizaveta warned.

"I'll call him what he is."

"Why did you come here, Gil?" she said coldly. "To insult my husband?"

"No. Well. No, not really."

"So what then? You never have a good reason."

"Well, it is kind of about your husband." This had seemed like a much better idea back at his apartment, in front of his mirror. Strutting and smirking, he had intimidated himself plenty. But Elizaveta did not appear to be cowed.

"Spit it out."

"Uh." Gilbert cleared his throat, tensed his legs in preparation for flight if necessary. "I think you should ditch him."

Elizaveta raised a derisive eyebrow. "Oh, really? And why should I do that?"

"Well, don't you think you could do better?" Gilbert forged ahead, still bracing himself for a blow. "I mean, he's boring, he's not a fun guy, he's so not your type - "

"What, you think you know my type? You think you can find me someone better than Roderich?" She had that dangerous, frying-pan glint in her eyes.

"I'm better than him!" he exclaimed.

She stared.

"You?" she managed finally. She laughed shrilly. "You. Really?"

"Yes, really," Gilbert said defensively.

"You're crazy," she said dismissively. "Why would I, or anyone in their right mind, choose you? Over him?"

"Well, why would you choose him in the first place?" Gilbert demanded. "He's a shitty husband. He doesn't love you, doesn't even care about you. Doesn't even know you!"

Elizaveta paused at Gilbert's furious tone, but only for a moment. "He does care about me."

"He doesn't!" Gilbert yelled, forgetting his escape plan and striding closer. "Are you really this blind? He doesn't even look at you! D'you think I haven't noticed? I have eyes, I can see how hurt you are! You can do better! You can have me!"

"Yeah, and you're so much better," Elizaveta snarled, "you conceited, arrogant little SHIT. How dare you barge in here and just ASSUME you can - "

"But I'm right, aren't I?" he retorted. "You're unhappy."

"I'm happy," she said automatically. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Gilbert gazed at her for a moment. "He doesn't look at you," he said quietly, his usually abrasive voice becoming gentle in an almost frightening way. "Doesn't smile for you. When you take his hand he takes it right back. When you hug him he recoils. You just drive him around places, you're like his chauffeur! And you call him darling. You call him sweetheart. He calls you Elizaveta. Eliza-freaking-veta! Not even Eliz, or Liz, or Lizzie. Elizaveta. Like you're strangers. He really doesn't know you, and doesn't want to. He doesn't kiss you, probably doesn't make love to you - "

But here Gilbert stopped. Elizaveta's eyes had filled with angry, sparkling tears.

"I - I didn't come here to make you cry," he said haltingly. "I just want you, Liz. I want you to be mine and not his and it's not really that selfish, is it, because you'll be happier with me, right?"

She shook her head, wiped the corners of her eyes. "Everything is complicated, Gil, too complicated for you to understand. Even if I wanted to be with you, and I don't, there's no way I could. This marriage is really important to my family."

"And you're really important to me," Gilbert said fiercely. "We can keep it a secret, we can figure something out! I'm serious about this. I won't be denied something I've waited so long for - "

"I won't either!" Elizaveta shouted. "This marriage - this life - it's not something I can throw away lightly! It's what I've worked towards! It's not just about me and Roderich, okay? It's about the Edelsteins and the Hedervarys, and I can't mess it up! My family worked for too long and too hard to give me the chance to live like this. I'm not going back to the old days, Gil."

"So this house full of expensive shit, it's worth your being miserable," Gilbert said bitterly.

"It's more than just that," she sighed. "I told you, you can't understand."

"Whatever." Gilbert knew, for once, that he was fighting a losing battle. "All I know is that you're wasting away here, Liz, when you could be out living life with me. And one day when you and precious Roddy have grown old and miserable together, you'll finally realize you how much your life sucks because you'll be sick and tired of waking up every day and having to see his face. But don't come crying to me when that happens, Liz, because I'll just say I told you so."

He strode to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside, turning back to call angrily down the hallway, "Tell your good-for-nothing aristocrat of a husband he can suck my balls!" and then slamming the door.

Well that didn't go quite as he'd hoped.

...

Roderich loved the piano. He loved the feel of the keys beneath his fingers, loved hearing the melodies he created through simple touches. It was pure magic, this sensation; he always had and always would love it.

But he did not love children. They were whiny, unpleasant creatures. He remembered all too well the day, thirteen years ago, that he had been forced to take Feliciano under his protection. The memory brought an involuntary frown to his face. These children, the ones he taught (or attempted to teach) were no better. Every day as he left the studio, he felt a wave of relief, felt the ache in his head lessen a little. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he hated his job.

He had landed it one year previously, shortly after releasing his sixth CD of classical music. The album had done so well that he had decided to quit his job at his uncle's firm. His family had protested, insisting that, because he was soon to be married, he would have to maintain a steady income. Still, he refused to return to work for his uncle, so he grudgingly sought a new profession. It just so happened that the piano studio near his house was looking for new teachers, and would be delighted to hire the acclaimed Roderich Edelstein. He hadn't liked the idea of teaching young children, but at least it wasn't an office job.

And then he'd been married. Though he and Elizaveta were quite well off and could have relied on his parents for financial aid at any time, she'd insisted that he keep working, just for her own peace of mind. So here he was. Standing outside of the studio, watching the brats scamper off to their parents' waiting cars, pulling his navy blue coat tightly around himself and trying to suppress the resentment he was feeling at his wife right now.

His cell phone rang, and he felt a mixture of irritation and satisfaction when he saw that it was Elizaveta.

"Hello?"

"Honey, I'm so sorry! I just realized I should have left five minutes ago - I'm just walking out the door right now - I'll be there soon, okay?"

"It's fine," he said curtly. "I'll see you in a few."

"Okay. Bye."

He hung up.

"Pah," he muttered. "I wonder what kind of excuse she'll give this time for being late." He turned his phone over in his hand a few times. "Well . . . as long as I have the time . . . I might as well . . ."

He dialed, hung up, and then dialed again. As he pressed the phone to his ear, listening to the ringing, he told himself he was being ridiculous. "He won't pick up. He hasn't for over a week now. You might as well give up."

Just as he was about to hang up, he heard a loud beeping from behind him. There, not ten yards away, a man with shoulder length blond hair was standing, one hand buried in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a ringing cell phone, at which he was directing a heavy glare. For a moment he seemed to be on the verge of answering it, but then he shook his head vigorously and continued walking in Roderich's direction.

"Vash," he said softly. The blond looked up with a start, and for a moment his steps faltered. Then he continued walking, doubling his pace.

"Please stop ignoring me." Roderich hurried over to the other man and grabbed his arm. "I'm trying to talk to you - "

"And I'm trying not to think about you," Vash retorted, snatching his arm back. "So please leave me alone."

"I'll leave you alone now if you promise we can talk later," Roderich insisted.

"What's there to talk about?" Vash spat.

"You know what there is," Roderich said, his voice shedding a layer of its practiced gentility.

"Well what do you expect me to say?" Vash snapped. "'Last Thursday was fun, let's do it again sometime'?"

"More or less," Roderich said quietly.

Vash was silent for a moment. Roderich released his grip on the green-clad arm, and Vash turned his back to him. Roderich knew the other man was blushing.

"You were gone a long time," Vash said finally.

"I know."

"I missed you. Hated you, too. Hated you for making me miss you," he continued.

"I'm sorry - "

"But I got over it. I told myself, a friend like that, a friend who makes you feel so horrible, that's not a friend worth having. Since you were gone anyway, it wasn't hard to pretend you'd never existed." Vash exhaled. "When you came back, it was just like I'd expected. You weren't the you I knew. You were just this filthy little aristocrat, a plaything, a tool of your family's."

"Vash - "

"So," Vash raised his voice, "I just kept on denying your existence to myself. Told myself that I didn't miss having you as a friend. That I wasn't upset when you were married. That your life was no concern of mine."

Roderich said nothing. The crisp air swirled around them, kicking up a few leaves. He wondered if that was the slightest sniffle he heard - but no, it must be the dry leaves scuffing the pavement.

"I felt stupid last Thursday," he said at last, his voice hard. "Stupid and humiliated at how easily you came to me and made things be normal. For that one day, it was like we could go back to how it was, and everything would be just fine. And I was okay with that. I was willing to take back all those years of hating you, and acknowledge your presence."

"So why - "

"Why am I acting like it never happened?" Vash snapped. "Because that's what I thought before last Thursday was over. By Friday I changed my mind."

"Wait a moment," Roderich protested. "You can't have had any objections to what took place between Thursday and Friday. I know you wanted it just as much as I did."

"Yeah. But after that, friendship's not an option anymore. I can't settle for friendship. I want more from you."

"That's why I'm saying - "

"But you're married. You have a wife. And as long as she's in the picture, there can never be a repeat of last Thursday." Vash turned around, eyes fierce. "Ever."

"Vash, you, you are in the picture!" Roderich exclaimed. "My picture. She's not - as far as you're concerned, she's not in the picture at all."

"But when I'm not there she is," Vash said. "And I can't accept that."

"So - what - are you suggesting I leave my wife?" Roderich asked despairingly.

"My, and here I thought you were too stupid to tie your own shoelaces. You catch on pretty quick."

"You know I can't leave her."

"I know."

"So what are you saying? In case you've somehow forgotten our conversation from last week, let me remind that I don't love her. She means nothing to me. You have no reason to be jealous."

"I won't be with you while you're still married to her," Vash said obstinately. "And you won't leave her. So we can't be together. Which is why I was trying not to think about you!"

"You're being unreasonable."

"I am not! Just because I won't allow you to cheat on your wife, just because I want a monogamous relationship, I'm being unreasonable? You're the one who married someone you don't love!"

"You know why I did it. And it wasn't because I wanted to."

"But you still did it."

"Vash, please. I want to be with you. You want to be with me. There's no reason - "

"I've told you the condition for being with me. I don't think we have anything more to say to each other until you meet it." He made to walk away.

"Vash! Love is not conditional!" Roderich cried, seizing his arm again.

"Mine is," Vash replied, prying Roderich's long fingers loose. "I can't love you unless you're completely mine."

As he left, Roderich sighed. Vash had always been like this, hadn't he? Unrelentingly stubborn. Completely, unchangeably contrary. Loud, hostile, and demanding.

Yet, poor fool that he was, Roderich couldn't help loving him.

a/n: Yeah, that's chapter one. Feel free to review and crit! Feedback is a nice thing.

Oh, but this isn't gonna be one of those "I'm not writing another chapter until I get x amount of reviews," because I accept that not many people review my stuff and I'm okay with that, lol. This is really for my own amusement. I'm going to try to keep going with it until the end :)