@polpruweek day 3: 19th Century
CW: Violence and Strong language.
Feliks' Tea
(<1k words / AO3)
Back at home, in a place he doesn't own...
Feliks was about to take the first sip of his freshly brewed tea, when by someone knocking at the door with a heavy hand interrupted him. Even when he was willing to see who was at his door, he had a bad feeling about it. Going back home had its, inconveniences, but his heart called him back once again.
When he opened the door, the visitor immediately stuck one of his shoes in the door—as if Feliks hadn't smashed intruders feet in the past.
"You're back," Gilbert said the obvious, with an annoying smirk on his face. He was wearing a dark blue ceremonial dress uniform, with a red collar and details—when was the last time he saw Prussia not wearing a uniform?
Feliks frowned. "You found where I live now, like, not creepy at all."
"Aw, would you have preferred to see Ivan?"
That made Feliks curl his lip.
"Also, you chose my place. It was just a matter of time before I found you."
His blood boiled in his veins. "What do you want—? And why can't you wear something that isn't an uniform?"
Gilbert opened his mouth, then crocked smiled. Without answering, and sooner than the resident could react, the unwanted visit pushed the door and Feliks along with it.
"Hey!" Feliks managed to keep this balance, though not to push the trespasser away. He slammed his own door, making some wall ornaments fall. Craning his head back and scrunching his eyes, Feliks clenched both of his fists. For disgrace, he wasn't in a position where he could use violence first, so he needed to navigate whatever bullshit was Gilbert scheming.
Knowing Gilbert was no more than a ruffian, even if he pretended to be a military nobleman around his people, he likely was looking for a excuse to beat him.
"Oh, sorry, I thought you invited me inside." Gil cackled, walking all the way to the chair in front of Feliks' untouched cup of tea (now popular there, not just a drink of the nobles or considered just medicine). "Nice house: how much is the rent?"
Of course Gilbert had to brush into his face the fact that Feliks didn’t have any properties under his name now. He eventually lost or sold them all while constantly moving all around his own house and around Europe, when it was the best to leave for to a while.
"None of your business—Leave my herbata alone!" He smacked Gilbert's hand, after he extended his arms towards it. Feliks sharply pushed his chair back, and as sharply sat on it. "I don't want to play your games, just tell me what you want and go away."
Gilbert leaned in his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers below his chin. "All I want it's catching up."
Bullshit. Feliks glared at Gilbert. "As I said before, none of your business."
"So you're not going to talk about Paris? I thought you loved that city even more than your shitty cities. Well, not yours anymore."
"That again? How inventive." Feliks did his best to keep his face straight, clenching his jaw, and resisting the urge to bare his teeth. He pushed towards himself his cup of tea by the plate, seeing the steam coming from the cup.
The intruder burrowed his eyebrows for a second—now Feliks tried not to smile. Not giving him what he wanted should hopefully work.
"Mmm, so I guess you simply got bored of choking on French dick." Gilbert shrugged, raising his brows.
Feliks flared his nostrils. He looked the down his tea again, grabbed the cup, and threw the liquid to Gilbert's face, aiming for the eyes—fuck trying to deal with this carefully. Gilbert right away started to scream in pain, covering his eyes with hands, soon falling from the chair backwards.
Meantime Gilbert was wriggling in pain on the floor, Feliks merely fidgeted with a spoon, thinking that the visit was worth saving him from burning his mouth (oh, he really could be absentminded at times). Once Gilbert got on his feet, with a hand still on his face, Feliks did the same, whistling while taking the back of the chair. Faster than Feliks could lift it, Gilbert pulled a gun from his coat, taking aim by looking through his fingers.
Oh no—
He fell towards the wall, unable to control his body. Feeling blood dripping from his face, the last thing he remembered ahead of losing his consciousness, was Gilbert saying in a slightly accented Polish:
"I missed you too."