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True Colors
by Edmondia Dantes

Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: A Gankutsuou humor ficlet. God help us all.

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"I understand it now!" Franz declared, leaping to his feet, and Albert took a second look at the bottle, just to make sure it wasn't absinthe. He did not want a repeat of his fourteenth birthday, thank you, because there had been a lot of yelling after the whole vomit-on-the-reports-from-that-one-quadrant-with-the-funky-name incident.

"What do you understand?" he said slowly, as one would to an idiot or a child, of which Franz was neither, but he could perhaps have lost a little bit of his mind somewhere along the way from his house to this lovely little picnicking spot.

"The Count!" he said, flourishing his glass and only managing to spill a little of it on his very nice shoes.

Albert blinked. Several times. "Eh?!"

"The Count! I understand why you're so googly-eyed over the Count!"

Albert blinked again. "What are you talking abou - hey! I am NOT googly-eyed!"

Franz laughed at him. Albert jumped (rather unsteadily, truth be told) to his feet and started beating him with a napkin in a righteous fury.

"I am not googly-eyed! Take it back!"

Unfortunately, Franz did not seem to be quailing beneath his mighty assault. In point of fact, he appeared to be giggling.

"Hey! Shut up!" He dropped the napkin, scowling (it was NOT a pout either, dammit!) and bopped him upside the head. "I'm not googly!"

Franz smirked. "Uh-huh," he singsonged, and gave him a consoling pat on the head.

"Not googly," he grumbled.

"Fine, fine, you're not googly. You're sparkly!"

He smacked him again. "Shut up! I am not!"

"Wibbly?"

Thwack. "Shut up!"

"Infatuated!"

Albert turned bright crimson and attempted to beat him to death with their empty picnic basket. It didn't quite work, because Franz kept ducking, and his balance wasn't all that steady to begin with. He did chase him around the tree for a bit, though. At least until they both fell over, at which point a truce was enacted mainly because neither one of them was quite capable of getting up again.

"...so," Franz began again, raising his glass (astonishingly, there was still wine in it) "I figured out why you're so - intrigued by the Count."

Albert pinked, but couldn't quite figure out a way to deny this assertation which did not consist of either lying through his teeth or beating up Franz some more. "Well, why?" he grumbled, put out. (But not pouting!)

"It's 'cause he's blue."

Albert considered this.

"Forget the wealth, and the mystery, and the power, and his inexplicably shiny hair. It's 'cause he's blue."

Albert considered this some more.

"Am I wrong?"

Ponder ponder ponder.

"Ha. I'm right."

Albert frowned. "Blue?"

"Blue."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

Albert frowned more deeply. "...I thought he was turquoise."

"...turquoise?"

"Yep."

"...have you ever considered getting glasses?"

"No." Not a pout.

Franz snickered. "Seriously, are you colorblind?"

"No!"

"He's not turquoise, he's blue!"

"...I'm not listening to you anymore."

"You actually thought he was turquoise?! Ha!"

With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, Albert covered his hands with his ears and started humming. It was a nice day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, Franz was having a hysterical fit, and fluffy clouds were floating across a turquoise sky.

Frown.

...was he really blue?

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"Albert," the Count's deep voice interrupted his musings, "Are you feeling unwell?"

Albert jumped approximately half a mile (okay, more like two inches, but that was what it felt like) and turned a too-wide, sheepish smile on the patiently-waiting man. Alien. Person. Thingy. "Me? Oh, I'm fine, just fine!"

"Are you certain?" He had a patient smile that seemed cultivated not to show the very scary sharp teeth that Albert knew were there, possibly designed for biting the heads off of babies, never mind the fact that the Count didn't seem to feel the need to eat like most ordinary people did.

"Fine, fine! Just thinking too much!" He gave a sheepish little laugh.

"Oh?"

Albert squirmed. That "oh" was ever-so-polite and faintly amused and had a nasty habit of making him either embarrass himself or spill out secrets that he'd never intended to spill, out or otherwise. "Yes. Just thinking, ahahaha..."

A raised eyebrow, and that faint, amused smile widened a fraction. He knew he knew he was thinking of something, and he knew that he knew that he just had to wait until he'd break and tell him, and he knew he would because he always did, and he knew it too, and he - was getting confused.

"Actually, Count, I did have a question..."

"Oh?"

He gave a little embarrassed laugh and stared intently at his shoes. "...are you blue?" he blurted out, and immediately ducked his head again, staring at his shoes. They hadn't changed much over the last two and a half seconds, which was reassuring in some vague, ephemeral way.

The Count of Monte Cristo threw his head back and gave a long, rolling laugh, then reached over and patted his hand, which made him blush.

"No, no, my dear Albert. I am turquoise."

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Additional AN: This is so all Animom's fault.

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