Nels (nels_snape) wrote in hetalia,

[FIC] Valentine's Day Is For Pansies

Title: Valentine's Day Is For Pansies
Author: me
Characters/Pairings: Germany, Prussia; Germany/Prussia if you want to, brief appearances of Spain/Romano, and suggestions of France/England
Rating: PG-13 mainly because of language--because Prussia and Romano are in this story, k.
Summary: Gilbert's too cool for Valentine's Day, and is determined to prove it.

It was an awesome morning, because the most awesome person in the entire world was waking up. Red eyes blinked open to the morning sun, although as Gilbert focused his vision a bit more, he noticed the sun was too high up to really be morning. It was probably noon, whatever. It was an awesome noon and it would be an awesome day because the awesome Gilbert was finally awake.

The first thing his senses detected was that the house was far too quiet. Jumping out of bed and greeting Gilbird (“Yo, little buddy!”)in the process, Gilbert stuck his head outside his room’s door, and peered down the hallway, as if expecting all noise to appear at the sight of his presence. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Gilbert frowned, because if there was one thing that unnerved him (not that he would ever admit it!) it was silence.

As a nation of war, noise was the cradle that had rocked him since birth. It was the most welcoming sound upon waking, and the most reassuring sound when sleeping. Noise meant things were happening, action was happening, noise meant….there were things to do.

But clearly, there wasn’t much to do in this noiseless, empty house. Definitely empty, because if it was already noon (3, actually, as the clock on the wall corrected) it meant little West was already up and about with his many appointments, reports, and conferences.

Walking down to the kitchen, he petted Ludwig’s German Shepherd and his own white Labrador in the process. Aster, the Labrador, had pretty much started jumping around like crazy upon seeing Gilbert, and giving that much-too-adorable-to-be-allowed look which usually meant he wanted food. Blitz, on the other hand, was quietly sitting in the middle of the kitchen and watching Gilbert move around with dark trained eyes.

Knowing Ludwig, and it was easy to know him because his uptight brother never altered his routine, the dogs had already been fed, but Gilbert being Gilbert went ahead and gave them another serving. Aster began devouring his share at once, but Blitz simply stared at his plate and looked away, as if aware that it was not the proper meal time. Gilbert scoffed in amusement, always fascinated by how similar to Ludwig that dog was.

Speaking of food, his stomach decided to demand attention by growling loudly. Gilbert stretched in front of the kitchen’s window and decided he was going to have an awesome breakfast/lunch/meal.

“Hmm, what to cook, I hope West went grocery shopping, I told him we were out of beer…” his own voice was muffled as he peered inside the refrigerator, grinning at the sight of a freshly bought six-pack. Ah, yes, nothing better than good German beer to start the day.

With a beer in hand, Gilbert poked his head out of the fridge and came face to face with the calendar Ludwig had stuck to the refrigerator door (with a chick magnet that Gilbert had bought, of course). If life were like the movies, the camera following Gilbert would’ve zoomed in on the date: February 14th.

“Pff, lame, a holiday for pansies!” vociferated Gilbert to no one in particular (though the dogs did wag their tails at the sound of his voice). Scratching his white blond hair while opening the beer can, Gilbert took a long and thoughtful sip as he continued to stare at the date. Who needed Valentine’s Day anyway? It was totally a holiday for needy people, people that were too weak to be alone. Only the truly brave and awesome could welcome solitude like Gilbert did.

Which is why he decided to continue his day as he would normally do (awesomely!) and calling Francis had absolutely nothing to do with said date.

“Allo, my love. Happy Valentine’s Day!” his friend’s voice melodiously made its way to his ear, and he could almost picture Francis’ casanova-grin and overperfumed self as he greeted Gilbert.
Gilbert gagged into his cell phone, making sure he gagged loudly and dramatically for Francis to hear him.

“Fuck that! Why would anyone need to celebrate a day that’s about clinging to other people? Lame!” he heard Francis chuckling on the other end.

“Ah my dear, if you only gave in to the powers of love, then you would know the many advantages it brings—“

“Yeah, save the cheesiness for your own people. Anyway, what the fuck are you up to?” he grinned as he waited for the response, they should totally get together with Antonio and go bar hopping later tonight.

“Well, seeing how it is one of my favorite holidays—because I am a pro at this, obviously—I have a busy yet lovely agenda for today, to share my love with the whole—“
“Get to the fucking point” growled Gilbert.

A flustered pause, because clearly Francis did not enjoy people dismissing his passionate speeches.

“Fine, you insensitive brute, I am going to visit Arthur.”

Gilbert gagged, even louder than the first time. “You are going to try to fuck Arthur” he clarified.

A flowery laughed confirmed his statement “You are too crude. If anything, I like to call it ‘love-making’ my friend.”

“Yeah, whatever. Have fun wooing that grumpy asshole and missing out on a totally awesome and badass night!” he did not wait to hear Francis’ response and simply hanged up. He didn’t care, seriously. It was probably best not to be around Francis today. Knowing his fixation with everything and anything romantic he’d probably be spilling an aura of cherubs and roses.

Totally unawesome.

Finishing the last piece of his toast, he scrolled through his contacts and selected Antonio’s number. The line rang around three times, and Gilbert wondered if Antonio was in the middle of his siesta when the phone call finally made it through.

“What the FUCK do you want, you fucking asshole?”

That was not Antonio.

“You should be grateful to hear my awesome voice, Romano, where’s ‘Tonio?” A definitely much cheerful voice was heard in the background.

“Lovi! I totally just heard my phone ringing, and I know it was my phone because it sounded like angry German rock, and you don’t listen to angry German rock, and I don’t listen to angry German rock either but Gilbert was messing around with my phone the other day so maybe he—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Gilbert wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or Antonio; thankfully, Romano clarified.

“BOTH of you! I swear you two idiots are friends because you’re both so damn stupid!”
“Pfft, you’re just jealous you can’t be cool enough to hang out with us—“
“Aww, Lovi, that’s so not cute—HOLA GILBERT, that’s Gilbert, yeah? It has to be Gilbert because of the ring tone—“

Something that sounded like Italian swear words filled the line. Gilbert was sure it was Italian cursing because one does not need to be versed in multiple languages to feel the sentiment of insults. There was definitely a lot of commotion on the other end, punctuated by a high pitched “CHIGI!” and then Antonio was speaking to Gilbert.

“Sorry, Gil, Lovino’s a little upset because we have to be at the restaurant by five—“
“—and so he wants me to look fancy but he says that all the Spanish clothes I own aren’t fancy enough—“
“—so he’s taking me to some Italian boutique before our date—OW, Lovi, if you want to talk to Gilbert too I can just put him on speaker?”

Gilbert heard more noises, definitely limbs colliding with limbs and he was almost positive Romano had just head butted Antonio judging by the painful ‘OOF’. The line went silent for a few seconds, and Gilbert hoped to everything that was awesome (read: himself) that they had not just initiated an angry make out session because that was going to be majorly gross—

“Don’t call again, potato bastard, Antonio’s going to be busy for the rest of the day.” And the line went dead.

Gilbert frowned, but simply shut his phone because it was better to avoid hanging out with Antonio if it meant his pmsive lover was going to be bitching the entire time.

Whatever. He could find other people to hang out with, dammit. Antonio and Francis would definitely regret missing out on a good night.

Four hours later, Gilbert had finished scrolling through his not too long contacts list (“I’m too damn amazing to be getting everyone’s numbers, tch, I don’t need the whole world on my phone”) and now found himself in the same position he had been for the past excruciating hours. With elbows grounded on the kitchen counter and a dirty plate by his side.

“This is fucking LAME” he yelled out the last part, hating how his own, yet awesome, voice echoed all over the empty house. Drumming his chipped fingernails on the counter, Gilbert stared outside the window, sighing in displeasure at the lack of sunlight. It looked like spring would not be making an appearance anytime soon, which was damn unfortunate, because Gilbert hated winter as much as he hated silence.

His phone rang. Later, Gilbert would deny jumping in surprise at the sound, and he would definitely deny nearly toppling down the kitchen stool in his haste to answer the call. He was so excited by the prospect of talking to someone and have something to do, that he did not even check the caller ID.

“The best phone call you’ve ever made, speak, mortal!”

His brother’s voice reached his ears “Ah, hello, brother.”

“West! What’s up? Do you need your awesome brother to rescue you from stiff and incredibly boring work? I’ll be right—“
“No, Gilbert, thank you. Actually, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be home later than usual tonight."

Gilbert smirked and rolled his eyes, even though he knew West couldn’t see it. Of course Ludwig was going to stay later than usual, knowing him he wouldn’t leave until every single document was read, even though he could finish the work tomorrow or delegate it to someone else. But no, hard working little Ludwig was always punctual. Gilbert opened his mouth to make some sort of taunt, when he was stopped by Ludwig’s elaborated explanation.

“I have to briefly stop by Feliciano’s, so I was hoping you could wait a few hours for dinner.”
Something snapped inside Gilbert. Something snapped and he didn’t like it. Briefly, he brought his free hand to his chest and massaged the area, wondering if he had bruised something the last time he had trained with the soldiers. No, even if it was a bruise, his body was not pathetic enough to whine in pain.

“Whatever, West.” Damn it all, that had not sounded as nonchalant as he would’ve wanted to.

“Brother?” Judging by the hesitant tone in Ludwig’s voice, he had noticed the shift too.

Gilbert laughed, loudly. “What’s wrong, you’re going deaf already, West? I said I DON’T care. I’ll eat whenever I want to eat, I don’t need you to be my nanny and feed me my dinner, ‘kay?”

“What? Brother, that’s not what I meant—“ The bubbling feeling inside Gilbert just seemed to overflow its vase as he listened to Ludwig’s attempt at making an excuse.

“I said I don’t care, West. Go to Feliciano’s and have a fucking sleepover if you want to. The awesome Gilbert will be fine here.”

By himself.

He shut the phone with a foreboding click, and for good measure, tossed it in the living room’s direction, watching it bounce on one of the couches and remain there—silent. Not wanting to find out if Ludwig was going to try to call him back (he wouldn’t, why would he? He had things to do) Gilbert stomped upstairs, entered his bedroom, ignored Gilbird’s chirps, and tried going to sleep.

Gilbert became completely oblivious to the time, because the only thing the knowledge of time would do to him was remind him of the number of minutes (or was it hours now? ) that he’d been trying to fall asleep and epically failing at it.

Somewhere in the silence of the night, he heard the jingle of keys, heard Aster and Blitz running to the front door, heard the door opening, and his brother greeting the dogs.

Gilbert shut his eyes as hard as he could and willed himself really, really, really hard to go to sleep. Unfortunately, unless he suddenly discovered how to knock himself out, sleep was not going to come anytime soon.

Still with his eyes shut, Gilbert continued alert to his brother moving downstairs. He heard the rustling of bags, the fridge being opened numerous times, the television coming to life, and things getting chopped. Twice he heard Ludwig calling his name, only to be answered by air. He heard Ludwig returning to the kitchen and sizzling oil.

In a matter of minutes, he was not just hearing, but also smelling. Spices, cooked meat, and bread wafted their way upstairs, the aromas teasing and mocking Gilbert’s nostrils, practically begging him to get out of bed and find out what Ludwig was making. Gilbert dug his nails into the sheets, and shut his eyes even more, to the point where he was seeing little white dots in his blinded vision.

He would not walk downstairs. He would not walk downstairs and face West and his obviously busy and filled with movement day. He would not ask about his stay at Feliciano’s, because he did not want to hear anything else about this pointless Valentine’s holiday.

The stairs creaked, tensing the muscles on Gilbert’s neck. Sure enough, there was a soft knock at his door, and his brother’s voice quietly calling his name. Gilbert buried his face in the pillow and remained silent.

“Brother?” he heard the old hinges protesting as West opened the door, “Are you really asleep?” Was that a sigh? “I told you to wait for me to come back to have dinner, guess you were too hungry to wait.”

Like hell he was going to wait. Ludwig’s comment did nothing for his already sour mood, because his words sounded like an accusation—the lemon juice on the freshly-made cut— as if there was some reason for Gilbert to wait on his precious perfect brother when he could perfectly do whatever the fuck he wanted.

His stomach grumbled, and Gilbert briefly cursed his body for betraying him. He almost expected Ludwig to take that as a sign that he was awake, but all he heard was another sigh, a mumble that sounded like “I even asked Feliciano for the dessert” and then the closing of the door as Ludwig left the room.

Rolling onto his back, Gilbert brought his right arm to cover half of his face, a tight grimace on his lips. What the hell was wrong with him? He should be downstairs totally taking advantage of Ludwig’s cooking, eating as much as he could, and being as obnoxious and awesome as always, making sure to show Ludwig that he’d had a fantastic day, without the need to join the disgusting festivities. Forcing himself to a sitting position, he was about to get himself out of bed and stop behaving like a weeping damsel when the door opened yet again.

Gilbert froze. Ludwig also froze, nearly dropping the slice of tiramisu he was carrying.

“Oh, so you were awake.”

“I JUST woke up!” retorted Gilbert, probably much too defensive for Ludwig to really believe it.

“Right. Well, obviously you are tired and it has been a long day. Here” Stiffly, Ludwig set the dessert on Gilbert’s night table, and Gilbert finally took the time to examine the delicacy that stood before him.

This was not a result of Ludwig’s baking abilities. Sure, he could cook, but not cute little things like this one. The tiramisu looked more like the pansy-ass cakes Roderich liked to make.
“Did you make this?” Gilbert finally asked.

Ludwig seemed embarrassed at the question, his pale skin turning a slight red tint, “Well, yes, but not by my means alone. Feliciano helped.”


Wait. Feliciano? He had gone to Feliciano’s to…bake a cake for him?

“Anyway, I’ll let you be, brother, good night.” Before Gilbert had the time to process what had just happened, Ludwig was already out of the room.

Gilbird tweeted, and Gilbert could tell even his little buddy was calling him out on his screw up.

“Shit.” Gilbert scrambled out of bed and picked up the dessert, taking the time to admire the little chocolate shavings on the top, the almost fluff-like texture, and the smell of cinnamon. It was almost too delicious to eat, if that was even possible. Gilbird tweeted again.

“Yea, yeah, I know buddy. The awesome me is going to fix this right now.”

With tiramisu in hand, Gilbert headed to his brother’s bedroom.

He didn’t knock. Of course not, he was Gilbert. He flung the door open and had to stop himself from cracking up as Ludwig—who was in the middle of removing his dress shirt—was so startled by the sudden intrusion that he got tangled in his own sleeves, did a comical twirl, and fell onto the bed.

“Very graceful, West.” He smirked down at his still flustered looking brother.

Ludwig did not seem to find the whole situation amusing.

“What do you want, brother? Go back to bed.”

“Actuaaaally” Gilbert scratched the back of his head with the fork, ignoring the way Ludwig scrunched up his nose in disapproval, “this cake is too pansy looking for the awesome me to eat it alone! I’ll look too girly eating all this by myself! So, I’m merciful enough to share half with you.”

Ludwig stared. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to formulate an answer, but eventually settled for a half-sigh, half-smile.

Gilbert’s eyes shone in excitement, “AWESOME! OKAY!” And pretty much somersaulted, tiramisu and all, into Ludwig’s bed.

“Brother! What—No! You’ll get crumbs everywhere, sto-nchdrbdmmf” Ah, yes, silence Gilbert definitely approved of. He mischievously cocked his head to the side as he watched Ludwig struggling with the mouthful of tiramisu Gilbert had practically forced into his mouth.

A couple of very forceful chews later, and Ludwig was frowning at Gilbert, who could only shrug his shoulders.

“What? Isn’t it good?”

“That fork was in your hair, brother.”

“So? Probably made the cake taste ten times better.”

Ludwig arched his left eyebrow in disbelief at his brother’s cockiness, and simply shook his head before lying back down on the bed. Gilbert followed, setting the plate down on Ludwig’s night table.

“Are you hungry?” Gilbert asked.

“Are you hungry?” Ludwig answered.

Gilbert stared at his younger brother’s blue eyes, and debated saying yes, going downstairs and eating the dinner Ludwig had probably worked hard on preparing. In the meantime, Ludwig seemed to be doing the same careful studying of Gilbert’s expression, speaking before the older sibling had a chance.

“We don’t have to.” He cleared his throat and elaborated, “Eat the dinner tonight, I mean. We can eat it tomorrow. It’s just a day like any other, brother.”

Whatever had been gnawing at Gilbert’s chest throughout the day seemed to evaporate by the time Ludwig finished speaking. Gilbert felt himself deflate in content.

“Yeah, yeah it is” Gilbert pressed his cheek against his brother’s pillows, taking the time to notice how they smelled like Ludwig’s shampoo.

As he watched Ludwig’s muscles relax and start giving in to sleep, Gilbert truly believed those words. It was just another day, like any other of the many he had endured, because just like any other day, Ludwig would always be there to surprise him with cute desserts.

And that made any other day worth it.


Ahhh for a second I thought I was not going to post this on time! But it's still Valentine's Day here, so there you go. This originated as a Valentine's present for my sister, but then she went ahead and bullied me into posting it here. Yeeeeah.

Happy 'hope Cupid has good aim' day!
Tags: -france, -germany, -prussia, -spain, fan: fic, x do not use this tag - romano

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