prucanfieldsurquestions

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

which of your muses is the hardest or easiest to write?

Thank you for the Munday question :D!!

Of my muses, Gilbert is by far the easiest to write. His personality, speech patterns and thought process come pretty naturally to me, after talking about him and writing about him a ton! Not to mention I've loved him since highschool, which is also when I started shipping PruCan. A little mun lore for ya :D

As a bonus, the muse I find the hardest to write is Tolys. I don't have his thought process down quite yet, despite writing.... Oh god, like five fics with him in them. Writing him tends to be more based on his reactions to things rather than the deep brain dive I can do with Gil.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

Every Monday is Munday, show the creator's some love ♡

askblogs, reblog this if you're open to mun questions ♥︎

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

what are your favorite clothes to steal from each other? 👀

There were few things Gilbert liked more than accompanying his mild-mannered lover to a hockey game. The actual sport was only half the fun. The other half, of course, was-

"OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, REF!"

-was that dear, sweet Matthew wasn't so sweet in the arena.

There weren't many things that would get the Canadian to yell at the top of his lungs. Watching his beloved Leafs get a penalty they apparently didn't deserve was on the short list of those things. Gilbert could only sit back with a grin as Matthew rose out of his seat to shout obscenities in French, and then cackle as those obscenities turned more than a few heads. The buzzer signifying the end of the first period was probably a relief to those around them. Frankly, Gilbert couldn't wait for intermission to be over. In the meantime, though, Tumblr would be entertainment enough.

Crimson eyes lit up as the first thing the Prussian saw was a notification on the ask blog that had laid dormant for a few months. He grabbed the back of Matthew's jersey and pulled him down into his seat, then leaned over and showed him excitedly.

"Hey, we finally got another ask! I knew we'd get one eventually! Wasn't I telling you that last week?" He asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. "Hm… Our favourite clothing to steal from each other, huh?"

Matthew huffed and glared at the offending referee as they skated a loop around the rink. "I think my favourite thing to borrow right now would be one of your swords. Did you see that? Total bullshit! Nylander should NOT hav-"

"Mattie! Focus! The people want to know about our clothes stealing habits! We can 'talk' with the ref later, ja?"

A sigh left the Canadian as he begrudgingly turned his attention to the phone. It was probably for the best that he cool down before the next period anyways. "Okay, okay. Our favourite clothes to take from each other…"

- - -

Meetings where Matthew would be gone for a week or more were certainly not a household favourite. Gilbert stood at the front door, essentially blocking it while he adjusted Matthew's tie for the third time. He could already feel a familiar ache tugging at his heart. With a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked into the perfect oceans of lavender that he would miss dearly.

"Well, I guess you're all ready, huh? Break someone's legs, babe!"

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle. "I think the phrase is 'break a leg'?"

"Yeah, but I don't want you to break your leg, so someone else can be a sacrifice!"

That chuckle quickly turned into a giggle. Strong arms wrapped around Gilbert and held him close for the last time until his return. "I'll be sure to appease the gods of PowerPoint then."

Gilbert pulled his lover down for a searing-hot kiss, one that would hopefully linger on his lips until he got back. Then, begrudgingly, he stepped out of the way so Matthew could get on his way to the stupid string of meetings taking place in America.

Whispered words of love and a promise to call later in the evening hung in the air like mist well after the door shut. This first day was always the hardest. Oh, sure, Gilbert would be fine tomorrow. There were projects to do around the house, video games to play, and Ludwig's social media to try and hack into, after all. Plenty to keep him distracted.

A sigh left his lips as he wandered from the front door to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, hopped up onto his designated spot on the counter, and looked around. Seemed to him that the cottage was just a little emptier and gloomier without his personal sunshine there with him.

The pity party lasted only as long as the beer did. Once his bottle was thrown in the recycling bin, Gilbert headed to the bedroom. Nothing made him feel better in Matthew's absence like doing chores, knowing he would be rewarded handsomely with praise upon the Canadian's return to a sparkling-clean house. Doing all the laundry seemed like a good start.

Of course, Gilbert had to laugh a little upon entering the bedroom. His side of the bedroom was neat and tidy, a place for everything and everything in it's place. Matthew's side, however, was a different story. It seemed to Gilbert like complete chaos, but there was some order to it. Matthew generally put his clothes in one of three piles. Pale hands grasped the empty mesh clothes hamper that hung on the back of the door and headed to the first one.

This one, always closest to the window, was the 'absolutely filthy' pile. Clothes that had mud caked on them, egregious food stains from the last food fight, or any number of other stains from the unfortunate random happenstance Matthew seemed to endure on a weekly basis were thrown in the hamper. Next, half-shoved under the bed, was the 'home clothes' pile. It had been explained that this one was clothes Matthew wouldn't necessarily wear out in public, but were fine for around the house or around their property. These were also gathered up and thrown in the hamper. The last pile, though, made Gilbert pause. This one was closest to the wardrobe, and consisted of clothes that could be worn again in polite company or in public. At the top of the pile was the hoodie Matthew wore to their bonfire the night before.

Gilbert held the teal hoodie up to inspect it for only a moment before he brought it to his face and breathed it in. It smelled like campfire smoke, yes, but there was a scent that was unmistakably Matthew under it. It was maple whiskey and cedar trees, a little car exhaust and a hint of fresh snow. It was deep, rich, and so wonderfully unique that it was near-intoxicating. A soft smile wormed it's way onto Gilbert's face as he put that hoodie on and gathered the rest of the clothes up. This first day was always the hardest. But Matthew had a wonderful habit of finding ways to make it a little easier, even in his absence.

- - -

Matthew could already feel a stress headache starting.

The border had been insanely busy for no discernable reason. There were no holidays, no big events, nothing of the sort. And it was Tuesday, for God's sake! What kind of person would just randomly go to America on a Tuesday?! Then, of course, someone was being trained on border security and had never seen his ID before. It took nearly fifteen minutes of back and forth arguing, very politely on Matthew's end I might add, before a senior border officer was brought over and settled the whole thing. Truly, Matthew wondered why he even went to meetings when it was better for his blood pressure to just stay home.

Driving as if he were in Toronto made up for some lost time, but the poor Canadian still pulled into the parking lot of the meeting hall almost an hour late. He burst into the room, messenger bag full of important documents (and snacks), to find that… the meeting hadn't started yet?

"Hey, dude! Right on time!" Alfred called from the head of the large oval table. Matthew sighed in relief as he took his designated seat.

"I thought we were supposed to start at six, though?" He asked. Other representatives began wandering to their seats as well from whatever random conversations they were having elsewhere in the room.

Alfred shrugged and turned on the projector. "Eh, I factored in about an hour for you and Feli to get here before we actually got going. So, without any further ado, let's get this meeting started!"

The first day of a week of meetings was usually the easiest. Everyone was generally in good spirits, or else too jetlagged to cause too much trouble. Usually. Today seemed like it was going to be the exception, if Arthur's apparent distaste for whatever Alfred had just said was any indication. Matthew quickly turned his attention from the impending verbal slaughter to the little reminder of home he'd brought with him.

Around his neck, on a chain stolen from some other pendant, sat one of Gilbert's many rings. This one was almost definitely over a century old. As all hell broke loose, earlier than anticipated, Matthew undid the clasp on the chain and held the ring in his hands.

This ring was simple, consisting of a gold band with a square bloodstone set in it, but it had always been among Matthew's favourites. There was something he loved about the way the metal felt when his and Gilbert's fingers were clasped together. Something about how the dark stone glinted in the light when Matthew brought his beloved's hand up for a kiss that would never stop making his heart race. A wistful smile and no small amount of homesickness accompanied the ring as he slid it on his pinky finger, the only one it would fit on.

Violet eyes glanced around the room to ensure he wasn't missing anything important while daydreaming of their bonfire the night before. Seemed like Alfred and Arthur had gotten into an impassioned argument about the proper preparation of liver, of all things, and Herakles had fallen asleep directly on Feliciano's documents. Or sketchbook. Maybe both? Either way, Matthew figured he had a few minutes at least before everything was brought back to some semblance of order.

Quiet as a ghost, he slipped out of the room and into the hall. He leaned against the wall with his phone pinched between his shoulder and his cheek. He absentmindedly played with the ring while he waited for Gilbert to pick up. Of course, he wasn't left waiting very long.

"Hallo, you've reached the sexiest retiree this side of the Atlantic, how may I help you?"

Matthew couldn't help but laugh. He continued to play with the ring on his pinky while he stole his quick few moments with his beloved, and even when he went back in the meeting room, his eyes never really left it. Briefly, he wondered if he could figure out Gilbert's ring size from it, and if so…

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

what are your favorite clothes to steal from each other? 👀

There were few things Gilbert liked more than accompanying his mild-mannered lover to a hockey game. The actual sport was only half the fun. The other half, of course, was-

"OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, REF!"

-was that dear, sweet Matthew wasn't so sweet in the arena.

There weren't many things that would get the Canadian to yell at the top of his lungs. Watching his beloved Leafs get a penalty they apparently didn't deserve was on the short list of those things. Gilbert could only sit back with a grin as Matthew rose out of his seat to shout obscenities in French, and then cackle as those obscenities turned more than a few heads. The buzzer signifying the end of the first period was probably a relief to those around them. Frankly, Gilbert couldn't wait for intermission to be over. In the meantime, though, Tumblr would be entertainment enough.

Crimson eyes lit up as the first thing the Prussian saw was a notification on the ask blog that had laid dormant for a few months. He grabbed the back of Matthew's jersey and pulled him down into his seat, then leaned over and showed him excitedly.

"Hey, we finally got another ask! I knew we'd get one eventually! Wasn't I telling you that last week?" He asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. "Hm… Our favourite clothing to steal from each other, huh?"

Matthew huffed and glared at the offending referee as they skated a loop around the rink. "I think my favourite thing to borrow right now would be one of your swords. Did you see that? Total bullshit! Nylander should NOT hav-"

"Mattie! Focus! The people want to know about our clothes stealing habits! We can 'talk' with the ref later, ja?"

A sigh left the Canadian as he begrudgingly turned his attention to the phone. It was probably for the best that he cool down before the next period anyways. "Okay, okay. Our favourite clothes to take from each other…"

- - -

Meetings where Matthew would be gone for a week or more were certainly not a household favourite. Gilbert stood at the front door, essentially blocking it while he adjusted Matthew's tie for the third time. He could already feel a familiar ache tugging at his heart. With a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked into the perfect oceans of lavender that he would miss dearly.

"Well, I guess you're all ready, huh? Break someone's legs, babe!"

Matthew couldn't help but chuckle. "I think the phrase is 'break a leg'?"

"Yeah, but I don't want you to break your leg, so someone else can be a sacrifice!"

That chuckle quickly turned into a giggle. Strong arms wrapped around Gilbert and held him close for the last time until his return. "I'll be sure to appease the gods of PowerPoint then."

Gilbert pulled his lover down for a searing-hot kiss, one that would hopefully linger on his lips until he got back. Then, begrudgingly, he stepped out of the way so Matthew could get on his way to the stupid string of meetings taking place in America.

Whispered words of love and a promise to call later in the evening hung in the air like mist well after the door shut. This first day was always the hardest. Oh, sure, Gilbert would be fine tomorrow. There were projects to do around the house, video games to play, and Ludwig's social media to try and hack into, after all. Plenty to keep him distracted.

A sigh left his lips as he wandered from the front door to the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, hopped up onto his designated spot on the counter, and looked around. Seemed to him that the cottage was just a little emptier and gloomier without his personal sunshine there with him.

The pity party lasted only as long as the beer did. Once his bottle was thrown in the recycling bin, Gilbert headed to the bedroom. Nothing made him feel better in Matthew's absence like doing chores, knowing he would be rewarded handsomely with praise upon the Canadian's return to a sparkling-clean house. Doing all the laundry seemed like a good start.

Of course, Gilbert had to laugh a little upon entering the bedroom. His side of the bedroom was neat and tidy, a place for everything and everything in it's place. Matthew's side, however, was a different story. It seemed to Gilbert like complete chaos, but there was some order to it. Matthew generally put his clothes in one of three piles. Pale hands grasped the empty mesh clothes hamper that hung on the back of the door and headed to the first one.

This one, always closest to the window, was the 'absolutely filthy' pile. Clothes that had mud caked on them, egregious food stains from the last food fight, or any number of other stains from the unfortunate random happenstance Matthew seemed to endure on a weekly basis were thrown in the hamper. Next, half-shoved under the bed, was the 'home clothes' pile. It had been explained that this one was clothes Matthew wouldn't necessarily wear out in public, but were fine for around the house or around their property. These were also gathered up and thrown in the hamper. The last pile, though, made Gilbert pause. This one was closest to the wardrobe, and consisted of clothes that could be worn again in polite company or in public. At the top of the pile was the hoodie Matthew wore to their bonfire the night before.

Gilbert held the teal hoodie up to inspect it for only a moment before he brought it to his face and breathed it in. It smelled like campfire smoke, yes, but there was a scent that was unmistakably Matthew under it. It was maple whiskey and cedar trees, a little car exhaust and a hint of fresh snow. It was deep, rich, and so wonderfully unique that it was near-intoxicating. A soft smile wormed it's way onto Gilbert's face as he put that hoodie on and gathered the rest of the clothes up. This first day was always the hardest. But Matthew had a wonderful habit of finding ways to make it a little easier, even in his absence.

- - -

Matthew could already feel a stress headache starting.

The border had been insanely busy for no discernable reason. There were no holidays, no big events, nothing of the sort. And it was Tuesday, for God's sake! What kind of person would just randomly go to America on a Tuesday?! Then, of course, someone was being trained on border security and had never seen his ID before. It took nearly fifteen minutes of back and forth arguing, very politely on Matthew's end I might add, before a senior border officer was brought over and settled the whole thing. Truly, Matthew wondered why he even went to meetings when it was better for his blood pressure to just stay home.

Driving as if he were in Toronto made up for some lost time, but the poor Canadian still pulled into the parking lot of the meeting hall almost an hour late. He burst into the room, messenger bag full of important documents (and snacks), to find that… the meeting hadn't started yet?

"Hey, dude! Right on time!" Alfred called from the head of the large oval table. Matthew sighed in relief as he took his designated seat.

"I thought we were supposed to start at six, though?" He asked. Other representatives began wandering to their seats as well from whatever random conversations they were having elsewhere in the room.

Alfred shrugged and turned on the projector. "Eh, I factored in about an hour for you and Feli to get here before we actually got going. So, without any further ado, let's get this meeting started!"

The first day of a week of meetings was usually the easiest. Everyone was generally in good spirits, or else too jetlagged to cause too much trouble. Usually. Today seemed like it was going to be the exception, if Arthur's apparent distaste for whatever Alfred had just said was any indication. Matthew quickly turned his attention from the impending verbal slaughter to the little reminder of home he'd brought with him.

Around his neck, on a chain stolen from some other pendant, sat one of Gilbert's many rings. This one was almost definitely over a century old. As all hell broke loose, earlier than anticipated, Matthew undid the clasp on the chain and held the ring in his hands.

This ring was simple, consisting of a gold band with a square bloodstone set in it, but it had always been among Matthew's favourites. There was something he loved about the way the metal felt when his and Gilbert's fingers were clasped together. Something about how the dark stone glinted in the light when Matthew brought his beloved's hand up for a kiss that would never stop making his heart race. A wistful smile and no small amount of homesickness accompanied the ring as he slid it on his pinky finger, the only one it would fit on.

Violet eyes glanced around the room to ensure he wasn't missing anything important while daydreaming of their bonfire the night before. Seemed like Alfred and Arthur had gotten into an impassioned argument about the proper preparation of liver, of all things, and Herakles had fallen asleep directly on Feliciano's documents. Or sketchbook. Maybe both? Either way, Matthew figured he had a few minutes at least before everything was brought back to some semblance of order.

Quiet as a ghost, he slipped out of the room and into the hall. He leaned against the wall with his phone pinched between his shoulder and his cheek. He absentmindedly played with the ring while he waited for Gilbert to pick up. Of course, he wasn't left waiting very long.

"Hallo, you've reached the sexiest retiree this side of the Atlantic, how may I help you?"

Matthew couldn't help but laugh. He continued to play with the ring on his pinky while he stole his quick few moments with his beloved, and even when he went back in the meeting room, his eyes never really left it. Briefly, he wondered if he could figure out Gilbert's ring size from it, and if so…

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

THANK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!

header i finished for @prucanfieldsurquestions !!!!!! GO SEND THE BOYS SOME ASKS YALL!!!!!!

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

(Hello all! Apologies for the unplanned hiatus, but I should be back soon! In the meantime, feel free to send in your questions :D Could be about anything! Their living arrangements? Them throughout history? Underwear preferences!? Go wild!)

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

(Hello all! Apologies for the unplanned hiatus, but I should be back soon! In the meantime, feel free to send in your questions :D Could be about anything! Their living arrangements? Them throughout history? Underwear preferences!? Go wild!)

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

((Hey all! Ask box is empty so if you have some questions feel free to send them in!))

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

Please like/reblog/comment if you reblog and/or create Hetalia content in 2023

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

How did you two get together?

The kitchen floor of the cottage was covered from end to end in newspaper. Knives of various sizes and an entire pack of sharpies sat in a bucket placed off to the side until the pumpkins Matthew and Gilbert had bought from the farmer down the road were emptied of their insides. Gilbert reached into the gigantic pumpkin clamped securely between his thighs and grabbed a handful of pumpkin guts. He pulled them out and held them in his hands, mischief glinting in his eyes and a wicked smirk on his face. Matthew, who had his own gigantic pumpkin between his legs, had no time to get the threat bubbling in his throat out before the pumpkin guts and seeds were thrown his way and landed on his chest with a wet slap. The Prussian’s celebratory cackles were cut short by returning fire coating his cheek in orange slime. 

“Hey! Not the face!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart, and you declared war.” Matthew said with a smirk of his own, already reaching back into his pumpkin for more ammo. 

The kitchen quickly became a battlefield of laughter and pumpkin seeds being thrown just about as hard as the belligerents could manage. Newspaper saved the floor, but the cupboards, oven, fridge and ceiling became casualties of giggle-filled, fall-coloured war. 

A momentary truce was called when pumpkin guts whipped particularly hard hit Gilbert’s phone clean off the table. The device landed on the floor with a clatter, but upon checking it to see what the damage was, Gilbert noticed a notification. 

“Hey, liebl- aw, really? In my ear?” Gilbert laughed as he schlocked the orange off the side of his face.

“We got another ask?” Matthew asked, holding the next bit of his dwindling ammo in his slimy hand, ready to throw as soon as the truce was over. 

“Ja! They’re asking how we got together! I think it’ll be nice to reminisce while I shove pumpkin guts down your pants!”

“Gilbert, don’t you dare-” Matthew cut himself off with a screech and a giggle as his lover charged at him, a cackling menace with two fistfulls of pumpkin. In an instant Matthew ran to the front door and outside so at least the rest of his house would be spared in the wake of the Great Pumpkin War. 

-    -

October, 2000

The morning sun shone bright and cheerful through the windows to the meeting hall, a stark contrast to the few nations inside who were already dreading the events to come. World meetings were always chaos, always ran stupidly late, and were an event that Matthew was almost never on time for.

Today, though, was different. He’d gotten to the hall with plenty of time to spare, thanks to his brilliant idea of bringing his most obnoxious alarm clock with him. He was so early, in fact, that there weren’t too many people there just yet. Ludwig and Gilbert hadn’t even arrived, and it was that shock of white hair that Matthew kept his eye out for while he sat in his chair and listened in on Lovino and Feliks shit-talking someone or other. 

When he finally saw Gilbert he nearly leapt out of his chair. A smile he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to played on his lips as he made a beeline towards the man. Gilbert had just completed his scan of who was here when he caught sight of the Canadian making his way over. A grin crossed his face, and as soon as Matthew was close enough he pulled him in for a hug that was exuberantly returned. 

“Hallo, Maus! I wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty minutes, at least! Did you finally find a coffee maker that doesn’t hate you?” Gilbert teased with a smirk that only grew wider with a roll of amethyst eyes. 

“No, I’m pretty sure coffee makers as a whole have it out for me.” Matthew said. He pulled his dress shirt out of his pants just a little bit to show the nearly-dry coffee stain that was, thankfully, easy to hide. "I got here early because I have something I wanted to ask you, actually.”

A silvery brow quirked, and the smirk softened into a lopsided smile. “Ja? Well go ahead, I don’t bite. Often. Ish.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. A-anyways, I wanted to ask if we were planning on skipping out of this meeting sometime later, and if so, if, um…” Matthew trailed off as he worked up his nerve, ignoring how much his cheeks were burning as he did so. Deep breaths, deep breaths! His brain screamed at him. This is your only chance, don’t screw it up! “...If you would maybe possibly want to go to the movies with me? I-I won’t be mad if you don’t want to, or-”

A joyful laugh out of the shorter man cut the word vomit off before it could get embarrassing. Gilbert’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at the poor, flustered Canadian. “Ja, of course we’ll be leaving this stupid meeting early. Same time, same place?”

Relief crashed through Matthew and brought with it a more relaxed smile. “Mhm! I parked pretty close to the entrance, we can just hop in and go.”

“Sehr gut! It’s a date, then!” Gilbert remarked with a grin. He walked off to bother some poor unfortunate soul, leaving Matthew to stand in the same place with hearts floating around his head. 

It’s a date, then!

Oh, how right Gilbert was. 

The sun was already beginning to dip under the horizon by the time a chance for escape presented itself, at about the same time it always did. Strong personalities confined in a relatively small space together, coupled with centuries upon centuries of history, meant that every world meeting was a bomb just waiting to go off. Gilbert walked out the door as Arthur got into a screaming match with someone over some perceived slight. Matthew wasn’t far behind.

“So, I noticed something.” Gilbert started once they were in Matthew’s red pickup truck and on the road, with an eye on the driver and a growing smirk. “You have the back of this thing covered.”

Matthew tried to slow his grin by biting his lip, but it was no use. Of course Gilbert would be observant enough to notice the one time the cover was on. A chuckle out of the albino, and Matthew had to turn his head to hide the light pink dusting his cheeks. 

“Oh, I see how it is. You have something planned, don’t you, Maus? Just wanted to get me alone?”

The light pink deepened instantly to a dark flush guarded by a roll of amethyst eyes. Those eyes threw a quick glance over his shoulder as Matthew changed lanes and proceeded to not use his turn signal. “Oh, shush. Is it so hard to believe that I might want to hang out with you?” Matthew asked with a whisper of a smile. 

There was a brief space for the unspoken ‘Yes, actually, it is.’ to breathe before a chuckle loud enough to cover for it erupted from the Prussian. “Nah, ‘course not. Everyone wants to hang out with me! Frankly, you’re lucky I could fit you into my schedule.”

“And, pray tell, what else do you have in your schedule?”

“...That’s uh, that’s private business! You never ask a woman her age, and you never ask a man what his schedule is like!” 

Matthew simply rolled his eyes fondly and decided to let Gilbert have this one. 

Soon enough, Matthew pulled onto a long dirt driveway that led to a little drive-in theater tucked into the edge of a forest. He backed into a spot, turned the truck off, and was out the door before Gilbert had a chance to undo his seatbelt. While the Prussian was scrambling to catch up, Matthew took the cover off the bed of his truck and stood back with bated breath to watch the other man’s reaction. 

The bed of the truck had been covered with every plush, warm blanket that Matthew owned, all tied down so they wouldn’t move too much in transport. The back of it housed a veritable mountain of stuffed animals and pillows. Matthew watched as lovely vermillion roamed all over the spread, saw the dumb grin dancing on Gilbert’s face, and finally caught his gaze from under snow-white lashes. Their hands brushed, very intentionally it seemed, and Matthew felt like he was about to burst. As much as he would have liked to lace their fingers together, they'd left the meeting a little bit later than anticipated, leaving just enough time for last-minute adjustments before the movie started.  

“Do you want to get some snacks while I fix the pillows and find the radio?” He murmured, fingertips just barely touching Gilbert’s. From his back pocket he produced a crumpled ten dollar bill and held it out. 

“Aw, no five course meal stuffed somewhere in there?” Gilbert said with a laugh as he took the bill and walked towards the concession stand. Matthew could only chuckle and hop up into his truck. 

By the time Gilbert returned with an extra-large popcorn slathered in butter and a single large drink, Matthew had gotten the pillows and stuffed animals rearranged and changed into an oversized hoodie. Gilbert got up onto the bed of the truck with a grunt and plopped himself down beside the Canadian, leaving just enough room to put the popcorn and drink between them. The portable radio was turned on and to the right station just as the projector flickered to life. 

Recognition flashed in Gilbert’s eyes as soon as he saw the familiar sight of a husky running across the Antarctic waste. He smirked and reached in for some popcorn, hand brushing Matthew’s as the other grabbed some popcorn of his own. 

“Have you seen this movie, Maus?”

“Er… well, no. I don’t watch too many scary movies.”

Gilbert stretched his arms upward, drawing it out just a little bit for what Matthew could only assume was effect, then not-so-subtly rested his arm behind Matthew, eliciting a little roll of the eye and a smile to dwarf it. “You just tell me if you get too scared, ja?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Matthew said with a chuckle. 

He was sure the movie was enthralling, as it had come highly recommended from Alfred for both atmosphere and practical effects. But Matthew’s attention was split between it and the man beside him. Lilac eyes stole glances whenever they could, and once or twice, he could have sworn he saw crimson do the same. It was with one of these glances that the Canadian noticed the man was shivering. The sun had set and taken all the heat in the air with it. The blankets were still tied down and weighed down by all the stuffed animals, and Gilbert's dress shirt wasn't exactly the warmest thing on the planet. A frown crossed Matthew’s cheeks as he figured out what to do about this. Hm… Well, in all the great, cheesy romance novels, the lead usually gave his jacket to his love interest, right? He didn't have a jacket, but hopefully his sweater would do. He took it off in one fluid motion and held it out to a very confused Gilbert. 

“You, um, you seem cold.” He explained with a blush.

Confusion softened into a rose-coloured grin as Gilbert took the sweater and put it on immediately. That pleased grin persisted for a moment, before a small look of concern replaced it. Matthew didn’t have time to ask what was wrong before the man scooted over and planted himself between his legs. Gilbert leaned back into him and nodded once, apparently satisfied with this action.

“There! Now we’re both warm!” 

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as he snaked his arms around the other man’s waist and pulled him in just that little bit closer. He felt Gilbert melt like popcorn butter into his embrace and had to bury his face in his shoulder for a moment while he remembered how to breathe. He felt a chuckle rumble in Gilbert’s chest, a pale hand reach up to ruffle golden locks, and it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that Matthew needed a full five minutes to put himself back together. 

With his chin now resting on Gilbert’s shoulder, he could finally pay a little more attention to the movie. The tale of the doomed Antarctic team gripped him with wisps of paranoia and an intimate knowledge of how horrific a snowy base in trouble was, even without the added horror of a monster. It was only when he felt Gilbert laugh a little that he realized he was squeezing the man like a frightened child holding a teddy bear. 

“Aw, don’t worry Mattie, I’m here to prote- FUCK!” Gilbert exclaimed as an unexpected scare got him. He dug his fingers into Matthew’s arms, which had only gotten tighter around him, and kept his eyes glued to the movie even though there was a face buried in his shoulder again. 

They stayed holding each other as the movie raced towards it’s conclusion. The final scare had them both screeching and laughing at themselves. They were both centuries old, after all, and had definitely seen worse things than an admittedly terrifying monster. That laughter settled into a comfortable silence once the credits were rolling. Cool night air washed pleasantly over Matthew’s bare back as his front was warmed by the Prussian in his arms. There was just one more thing he had planned to top the night off, and it was now or never.  

“Hey, Gil? I-I have, um, another thing to ask you.” He quietly stammered. 

“Ja, Maus?”

A deep breath was taken, a little squeeze given, and a question that would change their lives forever was uttered. 

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Gilbert’s breath hitched in his throat at the question. He twisted himself in Matthew’s arms, enough to look at him and see that he was, in fact, serious. A smile warm enough to drive away the chill of the night crossed his lips as he reached up to thread his fingers through the man’s wavy hair. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He murmured with a little chuckle.

Matthew’s only response was to close the distance between them and capture Gilbert’s lips in a kiss that left both of them breathless and seeing stars. When they parted, Matthew couldn’t help himself. He held the other close, planted kisses on his cheek like he’d been wanting to for years, and sighed in happiness as he felt strong arms wrap around him and hold him tight. It was only when he started snickering that Gilbert pulled back and raised a questioning brow. 

“Do you know what that sweater’s made of, Gil?”

“Uh… Cotton?”

“Nope! It’s made of boyfriend material.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to roll his eyes, to laugh and kiss Matthew’s burning cheek. “You fuckin’ dork. Guess I’m keeping this sweater, then.”

Matthew could only grin and kiss him again, under the light of an autumnal moon filled with new love.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

How did you two get together?

The kitchen floor of the cottage was covered from end to end in newspaper. Knives of various sizes and an entire pack of sharpies sat in a bucket placed off to the side until the pumpkins Matthew and Gilbert had bought from the farmer down the road were emptied of their insides. Gilbert reached into the gigantic pumpkin clamped securely between his thighs and grabbed a handful of pumpkin guts. He pulled them out and held them in his hands, mischief glinting in his eyes and a wicked smirk on his face. Matthew, who had his own gigantic pumpkin between his legs, had no time to get the threat bubbling in his throat out before the pumpkin guts and seeds were thrown his way and landed on his chest with a wet slap. The Prussian’s celebratory cackles were cut short by returning fire coating his cheek in orange slime. 

“Hey! Not the face!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart, and you declared war.” Matthew said with a smirk of his own, already reaching back into his pumpkin for more ammo. 

The kitchen quickly became a battlefield of laughter and pumpkin seeds being thrown just about as hard as the belligerents could manage. Newspaper saved the floor, but the cupboards, oven, fridge and ceiling became casualties of giggle-filled, fall-coloured war. 

A momentary truce was called when pumpkin guts whipped particularly hard hit Gilbert’s phone clean off the table. The device landed on the floor with a clatter, but upon checking it to see what the damage was, Gilbert noticed a notification. 

“Hey, liebl- aw, really? In my ear?” Gilbert laughed as he schlocked the orange off the side of his face.

“We got another ask?” Matthew asked, holding the next bit of his dwindling ammo in his slimy hand, ready to throw as soon as the truce was over. 

“Ja! They’re asking how we got together! I think it’ll be nice to reminisce while I shove pumpkin guts down your pants!”

“Gilbert, don’t you dare-” Matthew cut himself off with a screech and a giggle as his lover charged at him, a cackling menace with two fistfulls of pumpkin. In an instant Matthew ran to the front door and outside so at least the rest of his house would be spared in the wake of the Great Pumpkin War. 

-    -

October, 2000

The morning sun shone bright and cheerful through the windows to the meeting hall, a stark contrast to the few nations inside who were already dreading the events to come. World meetings were always chaos, always ran stupidly late, and were an event that Matthew was almost never on time for.

Today, though, was different. He’d gotten to the hall with plenty of time to spare, thanks to his brilliant idea of bringing his most obnoxious alarm clock with him. He was so early, in fact, that there weren’t too many people there just yet. Ludwig and Gilbert hadn���t even arrived, and it was that shock of white hair that Matthew kept his eye out for while he sat in his chair and listened in on Lovino and Feliks shit-talking someone or other. 

When he finally saw Gilbert he nearly leapt out of his chair. A smile he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to played on his lips as he made a beeline towards the man. Gilbert had just completed his scan of who was here when he caught sight of the Canadian making his way over. A grin crossed his face, and as soon as Matthew was close enough he pulled him in for a hug that was exuberantly returned. 

“Hallo, Maus! I wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty minutes, at least! Did you finally find a coffee maker that doesn’t hate you?” Gilbert teased with a smirk that only grew wider with a roll of amethyst eyes. 

“No, I’m pretty sure coffee makers as a whole have it out for me.” Matthew said. He pulled his dress shirt out of his pants just a little bit to show the nearly-dry coffee stain that was, thankfully, easy to hide. "I got here early because I have something I wanted to ask you, actually.”

A silvery brow quirked, and the smirk softened into a lopsided smile. “Ja? Well go ahead, I don’t bite. Often. Ish.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. A-anyways, I wanted to ask if we were planning on skipping out of this meeting sometime later, and if so, if, um…” Matthew trailed off as he worked up his nerve, ignoring how much his cheeks were burning as he did so. Deep breaths, deep breaths! His brain screamed at him. This is your only chance, don’t screw it up! “...If you would maybe possibly want to go to the movies with me? I-I won’t be mad if you don’t want to, or-”

A joyful laugh out of the shorter man cut the word vomit off before it could get embarrassing. Gilbert’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at the poor, flustered Canadian. “Ja, of course we’ll be leaving this stupid meeting early. Same time, same place?”

Relief crashed through Matthew and brought with it a more relaxed smile. “Mhm! I parked pretty close to the entrance, we can just hop in and go.”

“Sehr gut! It’s a date, then!” Gilbert remarked with a grin. He walked off to bother some poor unfortunate soul, leaving Matthew to stand in the same place with hearts floating around his head. 

It’s a date, then!

Oh, how right Gilbert was. 

The sun was already beginning to dip under the horizon by the time a chance for escape presented itself, at about the same time it always did. Strong personalities confined in a relatively small space together, coupled with centuries upon centuries of history, meant that every world meeting was a bomb just waiting to go off. Gilbert walked out the door as Arthur got into a screaming match with someone over some perceived slight. Matthew wasn’t far behind.

“So, I noticed something.” Gilbert started once they were in Matthew’s red pickup truck and on the road, with an eye on the driver and a growing smirk. “You have the back of this thing covered.”

Matthew tried to slow his grin by biting his lip, but it was no use. Of course Gilbert would be observant enough to notice the one time the cover was on. A chuckle out of the albino, and Matthew had to turn his head to hide the light pink dusting his cheeks. 

“Oh, I see how it is. You have something planned, don’t you, Maus? Just wanted to get me alone?”

The light pink deepened instantly to a dark flush guarded by a roll of amethyst eyes. Those eyes threw a quick glance over his shoulder as Matthew changed lanes and proceeded to not use his turn signal. “Oh, shush. Is it so hard to believe that I might want to hang out with you?” Matthew asked with a whisper of a smile. 

There was a brief space for the unspoken ‘Yes, actually, it is.’ to breathe before a chuckle loud enough to cover for it erupted from the Prussian. “Nah, ‘course not. Everyone wants to hang out with me! Frankly, you’re lucky I could fit you into my schedule.”

“And, pray tell, what else do you have in your schedule?”

“...That’s uh, that’s private business! You never ask a woman her age, and you never ask a man what his schedule is like!” 

Matthew simply rolled his eyes fondly and decided to let Gilbert have this one. 

Soon enough, Matthew pulled onto a long dirt driveway that led to a little drive-in theater tucked into the edge of a forest. He backed into a spot, turned the truck off, and was out the door before Gilbert had a chance to undo his seatbelt. While the Prussian was scrambling to catch up, Matthew took the cover off the bed of his truck and stood back with bated breath to watch the other man’s reaction. 

The bed of the truck had been covered with every plush, warm blanket that Matthew owned, all tied down so they wouldn’t move too much in transport. The back of it housed a veritable mountain of stuffed animals and pillows. Matthew watched as lovely vermillion roamed all over the spread, saw the dumb grin dancing on Gilbert’s face, and finally caught his gaze from under snow-white lashes. Their hands brushed, very intentionally it seemed, and Matthew felt like he was about to burst. As much as he would have liked to lace their fingers together, they'd left the meeting a little bit later than anticipated, leaving just enough time for last-minute adjustments before the movie started.  

“Do you want to get some snacks while I fix the pillows and find the radio?” He murmured, fingertips just barely touching Gilbert’s. From his back pocket he produced a crumpled ten dollar bill and held it out. 

“Aw, no five course meal stuffed somewhere in there?” Gilbert said with a laugh as he took the bill and walked towards the concession stand. Matthew could only chuckle and hop up into his truck. 

By the time Gilbert returned with an extra-large popcorn slathered in butter and a single large drink, Matthew had gotten the pillows and stuffed animals rearranged and changed into an oversized hoodie. Gilbert got up onto the bed of the truck with a grunt and plopped himself down beside the Canadian, leaving just enough room to put the popcorn and drink between them. The portable radio was turned on and to the right station just as the projector flickered to life. 

Recognition flashed in Gilbert’s eyes as soon as he saw the familiar sight of a husky running across the Antarctic waste. He smirked and reached in for some popcorn, hand brushing Matthew’s as the other grabbed some popcorn of his own. 

“Have you seen this movie, Maus?”

“Er… well, no. I don’t watch too many scary movies.”

Gilbert stretched his arms upward, drawing it out just a little bit for what Matthew could only assume was effect, then not-so-subtly rested his arm behind Matthew, eliciting a little roll of the eye and a smile to dwarf it. “You just tell me if you get too scared, ja?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Matthew said with a chuckle. 

He was sure the movie was enthralling, as it had come highly recommended from Alfred for both atmosphere and practical effects. But Matthew’s attention was split between it and the man beside him. Lilac eyes stole glances whenever they could, and once or twice, he could have sworn he saw crimson do the same. It was with one of these glances that the Canadian noticed the man was shivering. The sun had set and taken all the heat in the air with it. The blankets were still tied down and weighed down by all the stuffed animals, and Gilbert's dress shirt wasn't exactly the warmest thing on the planet. A frown crossed Matthew’s cheeks as he figured out what to do about this. Hm… Well, in all the great, cheesy romance novels, the lead usually gave his jacket to his love interest, right? He didn't have a jacket, but hopefully his sweater would do. He took it off in one fluid motion and held it out to a very confused Gilbert. 

“You, um, you seem cold.” He explained with a blush.

Confusion softened into a rose-coloured grin as Gilbert took the sweater and put it on immediately. That pleased grin persisted for a moment, before a small look of concern replaced it. Matthew didn’t have time to ask what was wrong before the man scooted over and planted himself between his legs. Gilbert leaned back into him and nodded once, apparently satisfied with this action.

“There! Now we’re both warm!” 

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat as he snaked his arms around the other man’s waist and pulled him in just that little bit closer. He felt Gilbert melt like popcorn butter into his embrace and had to bury his face in his shoulder for a moment while he remembered how to breathe. He felt a chuckle rumble in Gilbert’s chest, a pale hand reach up to ruffle golden locks, and it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that Matthew needed a full five minutes to put himself back together. 

With his chin now resting on Gilbert’s shoulder, he could finally pay a little more attention to the movie. The tale of the doomed Antarctic team gripped him with wisps of paranoia and an intimate knowledge of how horrific a snowy base in trouble was, even without the added horror of a monster. It was only when he felt Gilbert laugh a little that he realized he was squeezing the man like a frightened child holding a teddy bear. 

“Aw, don’t worry Mattie, I’m here to prote- FUCK!” Gilbert exclaimed as an unexpected scare got him. He dug his fingers into Matthew’s arms, which had only gotten tighter around him, and kept his eyes glued to the movie even though there was a face buried in his shoulder again. 

They stayed holding each other as the movie raced towards it’s conclusion. The final scare had them both screeching and laughing at themselves. They were both centuries old, after all, and had definitely seen worse things than an admittedly terrifying monster. That laughter settled into a comfortable silence once the credits were rolling. Cool night air washed pleasantly over Matthew’s bare back as his front was warmed by the Prussian in his arms. There was just one more thing he had planned to top the night off, and it was now or never.  

“Hey, Gil? I-I have, um, another thing to ask you.” He quietly stammered. 

“Ja, Maus?”

A deep breath was taken, a little squeeze given, and a question that would change their lives forever was uttered. 

“Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Gilbert’s breath hitched in his throat at the question. He twisted himself in Matthew’s arms, enough to look at him and see that he was, in fact, serious. A smile warm enough to drive away the chill of the night crossed his lips as he reached up to thread his fingers through the man’s wavy hair. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He murmured with a little chuckle.

Matthew’s only response was to close the distance between them and capture Gilbert’s lips in a kiss that left both of them breathless and seeing stars. When they parted, Matthew couldn’t help himself. He held the other close, planted kisses on his cheek like he’d been wanting to for years, and sighed in happiness as he felt strong arms wrap around him and hold him tight. It was only when he started snickering that Gilbert pulled back and raised a questioning brow. 

“Do you know what that sweater’s made of, Gil?”

“Uh… Cotton?”

“Nope! It’s made of boyfriend material.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to roll his eyes, to laugh and kiss Matthew’s burning cheek. “You fuckin’ dork. Guess I’m keeping this sweater, then.”

Matthew could only grin and kiss him again, under the light of an autumnal moon filled with new love.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

A question for either of you! When did you first fall in love with the other?

- 🦀

Thin hotel walls meant that Matthew, in Vancouver overnight for a meeting, could hear every sordid detail of the couple arguing in the next room.

He groaned and rolled over in bed, searching for something to throw so they would shut up for five minutes, but as he was about to toss a shoe, his gaze landed on his buzzing phone. A relieved smile crossed his face as he picked it up and answered it.

"Hallo, Maus!" Came the cheerful, if sleepy, voice on the other end.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

Gilbert, who was in their king sized bed and swaddled in more blankets and stuffed animals than there was really room for, balanced his phone on his shoulder while he scrolled on his laptop.

"How's the trip going?"

A sigh left Matthew's lips as he held the phone out towards the wall, so Gilbert could hear exactly how it was going. "They've been arguing for three hours now, over a fucking hair dryer from what I can tell."

"Put me on speaker and up against the wall."

Matthew did as told and had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Gilbert shouted in German at the top of his lungs about how nice the weather was, and effectively shut the couple up. The cackle afterwards, as Matthew pulled the phone back to his ear, was just icing on the cake.

"My knight in shining armor." He sighed, and could practically feel the pleased grin coming from his lover on the other end.

"Ah, don't mention it. Oh, right! The reason I called you is because we got an ask from an anonymous crab!"

"...From a crab?"

"Yeah! Here, listen to how I'm gonna answer before I type it out."

And just like that, Matthew was whisked down memory lane.

- -

Berlin, 1990

“And he can’t stay with anyone else? Not even Alfred?”

Ludwig sighed and put down his newspaper to look at his dear older brother in a silent bid for pity. “No. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal, Gilbert.”

The albino, sitting pretty on the kitchen counter in a black band shirt that was far too big for his gaunt frame, narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you know, maybe because last time I saw him he shot me in the head while I was trying to get to you.”

“That was almost fifty years ago. Things are-”

“Different.” Gilbert spat. How many times had he heard that this week alone? “Fine. You want to keep that fucking monster in the house when I’ve been back for what, less than three months? Sure, yeah, why not! When you wake up tomorrow with him pointing a rifle at you, don’t you dare call me for help.”

Another ragged sigh was drawn out from Ludwig’s lips, who looked like he’d aged a few years from this conversation alone. “It’s only for a night or two. Just… please, don’t be a complete ass? Please? The last thing I need after this meeting is to clean blood off the floor.”

“I’ll think about it.” Gilbert said, knowing full well the venom injected indicated he had already thought about it, and Ludwig would most certainly not like his conclusion.

In the roughly forty minutes it took for Ludwig to pick Matthew up from the airport, Gilbert had moved from the counter to the table, tired body on vigil for the enemy that would be traipsing in any time now. Crimson eyes snapped to the door as soon as he heard the doorknob turn. Ludwig came in first, and coming behind him with both a guitar case and a suitcase was the Canadian himself.

Their eyes met almost immediately. Guarded and worn vermillion bored a hole through soft lavender, and Matthew dropped his gaze to the tiled floor after only a moment or two. Once he was upstairs and out of sight, silvery brows furrowed in confusion. Gilbert had expected a fight. The last few decades especially, in a long life dedicated to war, had taught him to always expect a fight. But his wordless challenge had been forfeited almost immediately. Huh.

Gilbert didn’t bother taking part in the small talk that occurred in the living room. He was there, of course, making sure things were as awkward as he possibly could so maybe Matthew would get the hell out of his house, but couldn’t care less about how the flight over was. He was quite open in his wordless scrutiny of the newcomer and yet hid his vexation over his findings behind a thin veneer of petulance at the man’s mere presence. The guy looked… nervous. Anxious. Like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but was far too polite to say so. His thumbs twiddled in his lap. He nodded along to whatever Ludwig was saying, offered hollow smiles exactly when he was supposed to, and stole glances at Gilbert to see if he was still being stared at like he had three heads.

Given that he was watching so closely, the albino saw the small sigh of relief when Ludwig indicated it was time to go to the meeting. The two left after a quick goodbye, and as soon as the front door was closed, Gilbert scurried upstairs and to the spare bedroom that had been given to Matthew. Something didn’t quite add up here. Where was the monster from nearly fifty years ago? What was he hiding?

Gilbert opened the door to find both the guitar case and suitcase had been hastily set on the bed. The guitar case was decorated with stickers from strange places like ‘Vancouver’, ‘Whitehorse’, ‘Saskatchewan’, and a few cities in America that Gilbert did recognize, like New York. Inside was a normal acoustic guitar, dappled by handmade paintings of red leaves. Nothing suspicious there.

The suitcase, a gaudy thing with flower print that was apparently a hallmark of the 70’s, honestly didn’t hold much of interest either. Clothes that smelled of maple and had been shoved in at random, a mostly-empty bottle of cologne, an entire set of pens that were just loose in there, and a sizeable stuffed moose. Gilbert pulled it out curiously and looked at it. Soft brown fur, adorable black buttons for eyes, admittedly the perfect size for hugging… A meaningless smirk crossed Gilbert’s face as he put the stuffie back, and rearranged everything so it looked as it did when he arrived.

“Still has to sleep with a toy. What a loser.”

This bit of stolen intel was enough to satisfy him that, at the very least, Matthew wasn’t dangerous. Gilbert went to his room and selected one of the many books he’d never read but had kept since the turn of the century, and remained there for the rest of the day.

It was about three and a half hours after the meeting was supposed to be over that Gilbert heard the front door open. By then, the sun had long set beneath the horizon and the house had gone dark. Two sets of weary feet trudged up the stairs. Two doors opened, indicating the returning blonds had gone into their respective rooms. A few minutes later one of the doors opened again and someone went back downstairs. Gilbert thought nothing of this, figuring maybe Ludwig had gone down for some TV to unwind or something.

That is, until he heard the first muffled notes ring out from an acoustic guitar.

The only music Gilbert had heard for decades was whatever Soviet drivel Ivan forced him to listen to, for the glory of the Motherland or whatever. Music laced with poison, thinly veiled propaganda, bombastic orchestras of people praising the regime that kept them under lock and key. It was nothing like the song now being performed downstairs. Even if he didn’t necessarily like the guy playing it, Gilbert decided that he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to listen more closely. Who knew how long it was until Ivan claimed him again? Who knew how long it would be before he heard no more music at all?

Silent as a ghost, the albino crept downstairs and came to haunt the living room doorway. Matthew sat on the floor, bathed in soft orange light from the lamp, eyes closed and pouring his soul into some sorrowful tune. If he noticed that he now had an audience he certainly didn’t show it. His voice was a bird, soaring, swooping and diving through the octaves while his hands kept a steady rhythm and melody on his guitar. Gilbert forgot his previous animosity for a few moments as he stood entranced by the performance in front of him. When the song was over, Matthew’s eyes fluttered open like bird’s wings to meet softening crimson. A whisper of a smile crossed the Canadian’s lips as he moved right into another tune.

“You’re welcome to come sit if you’re going to listen.” He offered, before launching into the lyrics and losing himself in the song once more.

It took a few more tunes before Gilbert took him up on his offer. It started with stepping into the room, hand still on the doorway, just in case. A few more steps, another song. A boney hand resting on the easy chair opposite to the couch. Then, finally, Gilbert settled on the floor in front of Matthew and basked in the notes played just for him as if it were a warm shower.

Gilbert didn’t know how many songs were played for him. The talented musician before him blended the end of one into the beginning of another, and while he couldn’t understand all the lyrics sung to him, he certainly got the idea. From joyous celebration to the depths of sorrow, from puppy love to one final goodbye to a partner, Matthew took Gilbert’s hand and reintroduced him to emotions he’d forgotten he could feel.

Matthew only set the guitar down once his fingers were too sore to keep playing. By then, exhaustion had etched itself into his face. Or perhaps it was there at the beginning and Gilbert was too focused on the music to notice?

“Got more bullshit diplomacy to deal with tomorrow?” Gilbert asked, forgoing the venom from that morning.

Matthew sighed and looked at the clock hanging on the wall that showed him it was far, far past his bedtime. “Yeah. You’d think we could have gotten everything done, given that we stayed an extra three hours, but nope. Looks like I’ll be staying here tomorrow night too. I’m, um, I’m sorry about that, by the way. I know you don’t really want me here.”

Oh. Right. Gilbert had been all fire and brimstone about Matthew not staying, and yet here he was, with a twinge of guilt in his chest because the man he’d so desperately wanted out of his home had been kind enough to play for him for an hour. Fantastic.

“Well… I guess you do need somewhere to stay. Can't have you sleeping outside, after all.”

That seemed to be enough to bring a smile back to Matthew’s face. “I appreciate it. I- Oh! I forgot!”

Before Gilbert could respond, Matthew had run up the creaky wooden stairs and come back down with two items in his hands. He sat back down, beaming as much as he could while sleep tried desperately to claim him, and held out a familiar stuffed moose and a maple-leaf shaped bottle with syrup inside to Gilbert. A silvery brow quirked in confusion, prompting the Canadian to explain.

“Gifts from my place. I thought, well, maybe something sweet and something soft might help while you get your strength back.”

Gilbert sat in stunned silence, looking between the gifts and the sweet smile Matthew gave him, burning the image of both into his memory for later viewing. So, that moose that he’d called the man a loser over… had been for him all along? With an uncharacteristic gingerness, he took the stuffed animal first and set it in his lap. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

Most of his belongings needed to be replaced when he came home in November. His bed had been bought only a month ago, his civilian clothes didn't exist anymore, and… well, he’d gone from where hell was delivered in sweat and bullets to where it grabbed frozen grasp of one's soul and squeezed until there was nothing left. Maybe he didn’t have all that much to his name to begin with.

But now, even though he wore his brother’s shirt because time and Moscow had ruined all of his, even though his room was devoid of personality and everything except furniture, he had a soft little moose friend. And it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that meant the world to him. Gilbert lifted his gaze to kind (if exhausted) eyes and a knowing smile, to hair that was a golden halo framing round glasses, and the Matthew that shot him all those years ago was all but forgotten. With a little lopsided smile, he grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and cracked it open.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, you and I.”

“Me or the moose?” Matthew asked with a little laugh.

“Oh, definitely the moose. But I guess you’re okay too.” Gilbert returned with a smirk. And the rest, as they say, is history.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

A question for either of you! When did you first fall in love with the other?

- 🦀

Thin hotel walls meant that Matthew, in Vancouver overnight for a meeting, could hear every sordid detail of the couple arguing in the next room.

He groaned and rolled over in bed, searching for something to throw so they would shut up for five minutes, but as he was about to toss a shoe, his gaze landed on his buzzing phone. A relieved smile crossed his face as he picked it up and answered it.

"Hallo, Maus!" Came the cheerful, if sleepy, voice on the other end.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

Gilbert, who was in their king sized bed and swaddled in more blankets and stuffed animals than there was really room for, balanced his phone on his shoulder while he scrolled on his laptop.

"How's the trip going?"

A sigh left Matthew's lips as he held the phone out towards the wall, so Gilbert could hear exactly how it was going. "They've been arguing for three hours now, over a fucking hair dryer from what I can tell."

"Put me on speaker and up against the wall."

Matthew did as told and had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Gilbert shouted in German at the top of his lungs about how nice the weather was, and effectively shut the couple up. The cackle afterwards, as Matthew pulled the phone back to his ear, was just icing on the cake.

"My knight in shining armor." He sighed, and could practically feel the pleased grin coming from his lover on the other end.

"Ah, don't mention it. Oh, right! The reason I called you is because we got an ask from an anonymous crab!"

"...From a crab?"

"Yeah! Here, listen to how I'm gonna answer before I type it out."

And just like that, Matthew was whisked down memory lane.

- -

Berlin, 1990

“And he can’t stay with anyone else? Not even Alfred?”

Ludwig sighed and put down his newspaper to look at his dear older brother in a silent bid for pity. “No. I don’t understand why this is such a big deal, Gilbert.”

The albino, sitting pretty on the kitchen counter in a black band shirt that was far too big for his gaunt frame, narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you know, maybe because last time I saw him he shot me in the head while I was trying to get to you.”

“That was almost fifty years ago. Things are-”

“Different.” Gilbert spat. How many times had he heard that this week alone? “Fine. You want to keep that fucking monster in the house when I’ve been back for what, less than three months? Sure, yeah, why not! When you wake up tomorrow with him pointing a rifle at you, don’t you dare call me for help.”

Another ragged sigh was drawn out from Ludwig’s lips, who looked like he’d aged a few years from this conversation alone. “It’s only for a night or two. Just… please, don’t be a complete ass? Please? The last thing I need after this meeting is to clean blood off the floor.”

“I’ll think about it.” Gilbert said, knowing full well the venom injected indicated he had already thought about it, and Ludwig would most certainly not like his conclusion.

In the roughly forty minutes it took for Ludwig to pick Matthew up from the airport, Gilbert had moved from the counter to the table, tired body on vigil for the enemy that would be traipsing in any time now. Crimson eyes snapped to the door as soon as he heard the doorknob turn. Ludwig came in first, and coming behind him with both a guitar case and a suitcase was the Canadian himself.

Their eyes met almost immediately. Guarded and worn vermillion bored a hole through soft lavender, and Matthew dropped his gaze to the tiled floor after only a moment or two. Once he was upstairs and out of sight, silvery brows furrowed in confusion. Gilbert had expected a fight. The last few decades especially, in a long life dedicated to war, had taught him to always expect a fight. But his wordless challenge had been forfeited almost immediately. Huh.

Gilbert didn’t bother taking part in the small talk that occurred in the living room. He was there, of course, making sure things were as awkward as he possibly could so maybe Matthew would get the hell out of his house, but couldn’t care less about how the flight over was. He was quite open in his wordless scrutiny of the newcomer and yet hid his vexation over his findings behind a thin veneer of petulance at the man’s mere presence. The guy looked… nervous. Anxious. Like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but was far too polite to say so. His thumbs twiddled in his lap. He nodded along to whatever Ludwig was saying, offered hollow smiles exactly when he was supposed to, and stole glances at Gilbert to see if he was still being stared at like he had three heads.

Given that he was watching so closely, the albino saw the small sigh of relief when Ludwig indicated it was time to go to the meeting. The two left after a quick goodbye, and as soon as the front door was closed, Gilbert scurried upstairs and to the spare bedroom that had been given to Matthew. Something didn’t quite add up here. Where was the monster from nearly fifty years ago? What was he hiding?

Gilbert opened the door to find both the guitar case and suitcase had been hastily set on the bed. The guitar case was decorated with stickers from strange places like ‘Vancouver’, ‘Whitehorse’, ‘Saskatchewan’, and a few cities in America that Gilbert did recognize, like New York. Inside was a normal acoustic guitar, dappled by handmade paintings of red leaves. Nothing suspicious there.

The suitcase, a gaudy thing with flower print that was apparently a hallmark of the 70’s, honestly didn’t hold much of interest either. Clothes that smelled of maple and had been shoved in at random, a mostly-empty bottle of cologne, an entire set of pens that were just loose in there, and a sizeable stuffed moose. Gilbert pulled it out curiously and looked at it. Soft brown fur, adorable black buttons for eyes, admittedly the perfect size for hugging… A meaningless smirk crossed Gilbert’s face as he put the stuffie back, and rearranged everything so it looked as it did when he arrived.

“Still has to sleep with a toy. What a loser.”

This bit of stolen intel was enough to satisfy him that, at the very least, Matthew wasn’t dangerous. Gilbert went to his room and selected one of the many books he’d never read but had kept since the turn of the century, and remained there for the rest of the day.

It was about three and a half hours after the meeting was supposed to be over that Gilbert heard the front door open. By then, the sun had long set beneath the horizon and the house had gone dark. Two sets of weary feet trudged up the stairs. Two doors opened, indicating the returning blonds had gone into their respective rooms. A few minutes later one of the doors opened again and someone went back downstairs. Gilbert thought nothing of this, figuring maybe Ludwig had gone down for some TV to unwind or something.

That is, until he heard the first muffled notes ring out from an acoustic guitar.

The only music Gilbert had heard for decades was whatever Soviet drivel Ivan forced him to listen to, for the glory of the Motherland or whatever. Music laced with poison, thinly veiled propaganda, bombastic orchestras of people praising the regime that kept them under lock and key. It was nothing like the song now being performed downstairs. Even if he didn’t necessarily like the guy playing it, Gilbert decided that he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to listen more closely. Who knew how long it was until Ivan claimed him again? Who knew how long it would be before he heard no more music at all?

Silent as a ghost, the albino crept downstairs and came to haunt the living room doorway. Matthew sat on the floor, bathed in soft orange light from the lamp, eyes closed and pouring his soul into some sorrowful tune. If he noticed that he now had an audience he certainly didn’t show it. His voice was a bird, soaring, swooping and diving through the octaves while his hands kept a steady rhythm and melody on his guitar. Gilbert forgot his previous animosity for a few moments as he stood entranced by the performance in front of him. When the song was over, Matthew’s eyes fluttered open like bird’s wings to meet softening crimson. A whisper of a smile crossed the Canadian’s lips as he moved right into another tune.

“You’re welcome to come sit if you’re going to listen.” He offered, before launching into the lyrics and losing himself in the song once more.

It took a few more tunes before Gilbert took him up on his offer. It started with stepping into the room, hand still on the doorway, just in case. A few more steps, another song. A boney hand resting on the easy chair opposite to the couch. Then, finally, Gilbert settled on the floor in front of Matthew and basked in the notes played just for him as if it were a warm shower.

Gilbert didn’t know how many songs were played for him. The talented musician before him blended the end of one into the beginning of another, and while he couldn’t understand all the lyrics sung to him, he certainly got the idea. From joyous celebration to the depths of sorrow, from puppy love to one final goodbye to a partner, Matthew took Gilbert’s hand and reintroduced him to emotions he’d forgotten he could feel.

Matthew only set the guitar down once his fingers were too sore to keep playing. By then, exhaustion had etched itself into his face. Or perhaps it was there at the beginning and Gilbert was too focused on the music to notice?

“Got more bullshit diplomacy to deal with tomorrow?” Gilbert asked, forgoing the venom from that morning.

Matthew sighed and looked at the clock hanging on the wall that showed him it was far, far past his bedtime. “Yeah. You’d think we could have gotten everything done, given that we stayed an extra three hours, but nope. Looks like I’ll be staying here tomorrow night too. I’m, um, I’m sorry about that, by the way. I know you don’t really want me here.”

Oh. Right. Gilbert had been all fire and brimstone about Matthew not staying, and yet here he was, with a twinge of guilt in his chest because the man he’d so desperately wanted out of his home had been kind enough to play for him for an hour. Fantastic.

“Well… I guess you do need somewhere to stay. Can't have you sleeping outside, after all.”

That seemed to be enough to bring a smile back to Matthew’s face. “I appreciate it. I- Oh! I forgot!”

Before Gilbert could respond, Matthew had run up the creaky wooden stairs and come back down with two items in his hands. He sat back down, beaming as much as he could while sleep tried desperately to claim him, and held out a familiar stuffed moose and a maple-leaf shaped bottle with syrup inside to Gilbert. A silvery brow quirked in confusion, prompting the Canadian to explain.

“Gifts from my place. I thought, well, maybe something sweet and something soft might help while you get your strength back.”

Gilbert sat in stunned silence, looking between the gifts and the sweet smile Matthew gave him, burning the image of both into his memory for later viewing. So, that moose that he’d called the man a loser over… had been for him all along? With an uncharacteristic gingerness, he took the stuffed animal first and set it in his lap. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

Most of his belongings needed to be replaced when he came home in November. His bed had been bought only a month ago, his civilian clothes didn't exist anymore, and… well, he’d gone from where hell was delivered in sweat and bullets to where it grabbed frozen grasp of one's soul and squeezed until there was nothing left. Maybe he didn’t have all that much to his name to begin with.

But now, even though he wore his brother’s shirt because time and Moscow had ruined all of his, even though his room was devoid of personality and everything except furniture, he had a soft little moose friend. And it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that meant the world to him. Gilbert lifted his gaze to kind (if exhausted) eyes and a knowing smile, to hair that was a golden halo framing round glasses, and the Matthew that shot him all those years ago was all but forgotten. With a little lopsided smile, he grabbed the bottle of maple syrup and cracked it open.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, you and I.”

“Me or the moose?” Matthew asked with a little laugh.

“Oh, definitely the moose. But I guess you’re okay too.” Gilbert returned with a smirk. And the rest, as they say, is history.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

hello gil and mattie. here's an ask for both of you: what do you do when the other person is sad or stressed?

Multicolour leaves fluttered around Matthew as he sat on the stairs of the deck, enjoying both the crisp autumn air and the sight of Gilbert as the man went about checking their large backyard garden. The sound of German being gleefully spoken to an almost-ripe pumpkin was interrupted by a buzz from Matthew’s phone. He turned the screen on, the image of a maple leaf in a puddle flashing briefly on his blue-rimmed glasses, then checked his notifications and grinned. 

“Gil! We got our first ask!” He called out to the man kneeling in the garden.

“Holy shit, already?”

With a grunt to rival a dad at a barbeque, Gilbert got up from the soft dirt and jogged over to where the phone was being held out for him. He plopped down beside Matthew on the stairs, took a look, and beamed. “Told you we’d be popular!”

The blond chuckled and kissed his lover’s head before swaddling him in sweater-covered arms. “You did, and I guess you were right. It’s a good question, though… how do we comfort each other?”

-     -

Notes from an acoustic guitar and whistling to accompany it eased through the unusual silence that had permeated the cottage for the better part of the day. Matthew sat in the hall, back against the closed bedroom door, and strummed to stave off whatever had sunk it’s claws into his lover’s brain. Something had upset Gilbert, and true to form, he’d isolated himself in the bedroom for hours now. Texts to ensure he was still breathing were met with either a single emoji or radio silence. 

Giving space when needed was definitely important, but when the Prussian occupation of the bedroom neared the four hour mark, Matthew realized this might require his intervention. As he began to sing the first words of his chosen tune, one that held a special place in both their hearts, he heard the mattress squeak and groan under the weight of the man rolling off of it. A small nudge to the door, the distinct sound of a body sliding down to mirror his position, and Matthew couldn’t help but smile a little. Seemed like the siren song was working. 

Practiced fingers played the love song as they had for decades now, and when it was done, a sense of peace replaced the hollow sadness that had previously been in the air. The door shifted behind Matthew, an indication that the man on the other side had gotten up and then sat back down. A torn piece of paper with a message written in smudged black pen emerged from under the door:

Taking requests?

Matthew chuckled softly and moved the scrap to the side, where it would no doubt be joined by more. “How about three more songs, then you tell me what’s wrong?” He called out. 

Deliberation on this offer took a few minutes that were filled by idle strumming. Finally, another note was passed under the door. 

Make it four.

“Deal.”

Five songs later, the Canadian set the guitar down and rested his aching fingers on his lap. He leaned his head back against the door and heard his lover sigh in annoyance. The next note passed under the door had been crumpled, smoothed out, had words scribbled over and a hole where something hadn’t been crossed out so much as it had been obliterated. 

It’s stupid. 

“Can’t be stupid if it’s making you this upset. And even if it is, I won’t think any less of you. I promise.”

…Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll tell you how fucking dumb this is. Write to you? Whatever. Give me a minute.

Matthew smiled softly as he read the last message and waited for the profanity-laced soul of the man he loved to be bared on a scrap of paper, no matter how many tries or how long it took.  

That night, crackles followed the smoke from their backyard campfire heavenward. The pieces of paper that bore Gilbert’s dumb feelings were crumpled up and tossed in, and as crimson eyes watched the sheets go up in flames, the remaining tension in him went up with them. With a sigh of relief he rested his head on his lover’s shoulder.

“Feel better?” Matthew asked as he handed the man a stick with a marshmallow on it and watched in muted horror as the treat was stuck directly into the fire. 

Gilbert, knowing full well that his method of roasting marshmallows was apparently abhorrent and loving every second of it, could only snuggle in a little more and hope the unspoken message was received: 

Yes. Thank you.

-    -

There was no joyous cry of Gilbert's name when Matthew walked through the door, home at last from a meeting that had gone about three hours too long. In fact, there wasn’t much of a greeting at all. The front door slammed shut, which was unusual and most certainly got the Prussian’s attention. From the kitchen he watched his beloved’s leather messenger bag sail down the hall as if it were full of angry wasps. Gilbert set the wooden spoon he was using to stir dinner down on the pot’s handle and quirked an eyebrow as Matthew trudged into the kitchen, collapsed in one of four mismatched chairs and laid his forehead on the wooden table. A sound that was a pitiful mix between a groan and a whine left him like the air being squeezed out of an accordion.

“...Well, I guess I don’t need to ask how your day went.”

Matthew turned his head just enough to look at Gilbert, to silently agree with the man’s assessment. Gilbert watched the atmosphere swirl in eyes darkened to near-indigo by stormclouds for long enough to figure that this probably required his intervention. Without a word he fetched the fuzziest pair of pajama pants Matthew owned and handed them to him. 

“Put those on and I’ll ice you down.”

The unspoken gratitude was palpable on Matthew’s face. While Gilbert went to the freezer, he shimmied out of the stuffy suit he’d been forced to wear and threw the offending clothing into the living room, somewhere near the bag that he was pretending didn’t exist for the time being. A sigh of relief crossed his lips as soon as the red plaid pajama pants, complete with pockets, were on. A hair tie was fetched from the junk drawer, a chair was turned backwards and straddled, and Matthew sat expectantly with eyes closed and his hair in a loose bun.

Gilbert took but a moment to appreciate Matthew’s shirtless form before he walked over and stopped behind him. He held an ice cube in his hand and, as a special surprise, had one in his mouth as well. A frosty kiss on golden locks, a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady Matthew, and the ice cube was pressed to the back of his neck. 

The effects were immediate. Gilbert heard a soft gasp and felt all the tension melt out of Matthew’s shoulders. He stepped just a little bit closer, to press his torso against the man and feel him readily lean back into the contact. The ice didn’t stay in the same spot for very long. A slow, chilly trail was blazed across the Canadian’s collarbone, eliciting a few small noises of approval that earned him a few more kisses peppered to his head. 

Gilbert moved his hand from his lover’s shoulder to take gentle hold of his jaw. Matthew easily allowed him to tilt his head up and to the side for more ready access to the rest of his neck. Instead of moving the ice there, however, the albino bent down and left a trail of delightfully cold kisses that left Matthew breathless. Long fingers threaded through snowy hair to keep Gilbert there, to feel his lips as he whispered sweet, sub-zero nothings in German against Matthew’s soft skin and left deliciously cold trails across his shoulders. 

It was almost a shame when the last of the ice melted. Gilbert pulled away after one last kiss to Matthew’s neck, leaving him with a dreamy smile and the same soul-filling feeling as a hot drink on a cold day. He returned to making dinner and began to prattle on about his own day, as was tradition. Soon enough, though, he heard the chair scoot as Matthew got up. It was but a moment before he felt arms wrap around his waist and a chin rest on his shoulder. Though he continued to talk, he made sure to give Matthew’s hand a little squeeze to let him know the unspoken message was received loud and clear: 

I love you. Thank you.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

hello gil and mattie. here's an ask for both of you: what do you do when the other person is sad or stressed?

Multicolour leaves fluttered around Matthew as he sat on the stairs of the deck, enjoying both the crisp autumn air and the sight of Gilbert as the man went about checking their large backyard garden. The sound of German being gleefully spoken to an almost-ripe pumpkin was interrupted by a buzz from Matthew’s phone. He turned the screen on, the image of a maple leaf in a puddle flashing briefly on his blue-rimmed glasses, then checked his notifications and grinned. 

“Gil! We got our first ask!” He called out to the man kneeling in the garden.

“Holy shit, already?”

With a grunt to rival a dad at a barbeque, Gilbert got up from the soft dirt and jogged over to where the phone was being held out for him. He plopped down beside Matthew on the stairs, took a look, and beamed. “Told you we’d be popular!”

The blond chuckled and kissed his lover’s head before swaddling him in sweater-covered arms. “You did, and I guess you were right. It’s a good question, though… how do we comfort each other?”

-     -

Notes from an acoustic guitar and whistling to accompany it eased through the unusual silence that had permeated the cottage for the better part of the day. Matthew sat in the hall, back against the closed bedroom door, and strummed to stave off whatever had sunk it’s claws into his lover’s brain. Something had upset Gilbert, and true to form, he’d isolated himself in the bedroom for hours now. Texts to ensure he was still breathing were met with either a single emoji or radio silence. 

Giving space when needed was definitely important, but when the Prussian occupation of the bedroom neared the four hour mark, Matthew realized this might require his intervention. As he began to sing the first words of his chosen tune, one that held a special place in both their hearts, he heard the mattress squeak and groan under the weight of the man rolling off of it. A small nudge to the door, the distinct sound of a body sliding down to mirror his position, and Matthew couldn’t help but smile a little. Seemed like the siren song was working. 

Practiced fingers played the love song as they had for decades now, and when it was done, a sense of peace replaced the hollow sadness that had previously been in the air. The door shifted behind Matthew, an indication that the man on the other side had gotten up and then sat back down. A torn piece of paper with a message written in smudged black pen emerged from under the door:

Taking requests?

Matthew chuckled softly and moved the scrap to the side, where it would no doubt be joined by more. “How about three more songs, then you tell me what’s wrong?” He called out. 

Deliberation on this offer took a few minutes that were filled by idle strumming. Finally, another note was passed under the door. 

Make it four.

“Deal.”

Five songs later, the Canadian set the guitar down and rested his aching fingers on his lap. He leaned his head back against the door and heard his lover sigh in annoyance. The next note passed under the door had been crumpled, smoothed out, had words scribbled over and a hole where something hadn’t been crossed out so much as it had been obliterated. 

It’s stupid. 

“Can’t be stupid if it’s making you this upset. And even if it is, I won’t think any less of you. I promise.”

…Fine. Give me a minute and I’ll tell you how fucking dumb this is. Write to you? Whatever. Give me a minute.

Matthew smiled softly as he read the last message and waited for the profanity-laced soul of the man he loved to be bared on a scrap of paper, no matter how many tries or how long it took.  

That night, crackles followed the smoke from their backyard campfire heavenward. The pieces of paper that bore Gilbert’s dumb feelings were crumpled up and tossed in, and as crimson eyes watched the sheets go up in flames, the remaining tension in him went up with them. With a sigh of relief he rested his head on his lover’s shoulder.

“Feel better?” Matthew asked as he handed the man a stick with a marshmallow on it and watched in muted horror as the treat was stuck directly into the fire. 

Gilbert, knowing full well that his method of roasting marshmallows was apparently abhorrent and loving every second of it, could only snuggle in a little more and hope the unspoken message was received: 

Yes. Thank you.

-    -

There was no joyous cry of Gilbert's name when Matthew walked through the door, home at last from a meeting that had gone about three hours too long. In fact, there wasn’t much of a greeting at all. The front door slammed shut, which was unusual and most certainly got the Prussian’s attention. From the kitchen he watched his beloved’s leather messenger bag sail down the hall as if it were full of angry wasps. Gilbert set the wooden spoon he was using to stir dinner down on the pot’s handle and quirked an eyebrow as Matthew trudged into the kitchen, collapsed in one of four mismatched chairs and laid his forehead on the wooden table. A sound that was a pitiful mix between a groan and a whine left him like the air being squeezed out of an accordion.

“...Well, I guess I don’t need to ask how your day went.”

Matthew turned his head just enough to look at Gilbert, to silently agree with the man’s assessment. Gilbert watched the atmosphere swirl in eyes darkened to near-indigo by stormclouds for long enough to figure that this probably required his intervention. Without a word he fetched the fuzziest pair of pajama pants Matthew owned and handed them to him. 

“Put those on and I’ll ice you down.”

The unspoken gratitude was palpable on Matthew’s face. While Gilbert went to the freezer, he shimmied out of the stuffy suit he’d been forced to wear and threw the offending clothing into the living room, somewhere near the bag that he was pretending didn’t exist for the time being. A sigh of relief crossed his lips as soon as the red plaid pajama pants, complete with pockets, were on. A hair tie was fetched from the junk drawer, a chair was turned backwards and straddled, and Matthew sat expectantly with eyes closed and his hair in a loose bun.

Gilbert took but a moment to appreciate Matthew’s shirtless form before he walked over and stopped behind him. He held an ice cube in his hand and, as a special surprise, had one in his mouth as well. A frosty kiss on golden locks, a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady Matthew, and the ice cube was pressed to the back of his neck. 

The effects were immediate. Gilbert heard a soft gasp and felt all the tension melt out of Matthew’s shoulders. He stepped just a little bit closer, to press his torso against the man and feel him readily lean back into the contact. The ice didn’t stay in the same spot for very long. A slow, chilly trail was blazed across the Canadian’s collarbone, eliciting a few small noises of approval that earned him a few more kisses peppered to his head. 

Gilbert moved his hand from his lover’s shoulder to take gentle hold of his jaw. Matthew easily allowed him to tilt his head up and to the side for more ready access to the rest of his neck. Instead of moving the ice there, however, the albino bent down and left a trail of delightfully cold kisses that left Matthew breathless. Long fingers threaded through snowy hair to keep Gilbert there, to feel his lips as he whispered sweet, sub-zero nothings in German against Matthew’s soft skin and left deliciously cold trails across his shoulders. 

It was almost a shame when the last of the ice melted. Gilbert pulled away after one last kiss to Matthew’s neck, leaving him with a dreamy smile and the same soul-filling feeling as a hot drink on a cold day. He returned to making dinner and began to prattle on about his own day, as was tradition. Soon enough, though, he heard the chair scoot as Matthew got up. It was but a moment before he felt arms wrap around his waist and a chin rest on his shoulder. Though he continued to talk, he made sure to give Matthew’s hand a little squeeze to let him know the unspoken message was received loud and clear: 

I love you. Thank you.

[prucanfieldsurquestions]

Early morning sun streamed through the window to the lakeside cottage’s kitchen and blinded Matthew a little as he worked on making breakfast. Not that he necessarily needed to see what he was doing, as he was pretty sure he could make pancakes with his eyes closed by now.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked over his shoulder to his boyfriend, who sat at the kitchen table tsking softly at his phone. 

“You don’t have pennies anymore, sweetcheeks. If you want my thoughts you’re going to have to part with at least a dime.” Gilbert returned with the beginnings of a smirk. 

“Mm, how about breakfast and a kiss? Unless you really want a dime, my wallet’s around here somewhere…”

Gilbert’s chair scraping across the wooden floor was the only indication he was moving before he appeared in Matthew’s peripheral vision, now seated in his designated spot on the old granite counter. He stole a kiss from his lover’s cheek, then turned his phone to show Matthew what had got him so mildly perturbed. 

Matthew couldn’t help but chuckle a little when he read what was on the screen. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you mad at Neil Gaiman, the ‘existence’ of Goncharov, or both?”

“Neil Gaiman! He gets all these weird asks, meanwhile my blog gets nothing!”

“Ah. A true tragedy, that.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes and leaned his back against the wooden cupboard behind him. “You know, I bet if we made an ask blog we’d get lots of attention. How could we not? …Actually, what’s stopping us from doing it?”

“Several NDA’s from mine and Ludwig’s governments?”

“Psh, NDA schmeNDA. I think we should make one! Think about it, we’ll have tons of adoring fans!”

Matthew mulled it over while he flipped the last of the pancakes and waited for them to cook. It might be fun! Plus, if any NDA’s were accidentally breached, what would they do? Fire him? With the last of the pancakes stacked high on a plate, he moved to the spot in between pale legs that wrapped around his waist as a reflex. “You know what? Let’s do it.”

Gilbert surged forward to capture the blond’s lips in a smirk-flavoured kiss. “Fuck yeah! Here, you finish breakfast, I’ll set everything up!”

And the rest, dear readers, is up to you!

—

Hello, and welcome to a different kind of ask blog than you might be used to seeing! I have 0 artistic talent (hence the icon, which I only kept because it made me laugh), but I can write, so why not see how this goes? Send in those asks and let’s have some fun!

Asks will be answered in the form of a ficlette/lit rp style hybrid. Spicy questions are welcome! Any kind of blog is also welcome to interact! (This info section will be updated as I think of things to put here)