AN: Is it me or are they a bit more chummy than when I last left them off? ._. Why are the PruCan chapters always the longest? And we're learning about the United States of Alfred's economy in History. Then after that is Mathew and his provinces. 8D
Warning: PrussiaxCanada, swearing, and a lot of Prussian virtues
"No! No! No! Who taught you that? That's not the way you're supposed to do it!"
"What? Are you sure? I've been getting my answers this way."
"Which would explain why you're failing math."
The Canadian's nostrils flared slightly, blond eyebrows knit together, as he leaned back to get a better look at the Prussian in front of him. Hurt shimmered in his eyes as he mouth pursed into a pout. "I'm not failing math."
Hovering over the book, Gilbert sent Mathew a skeptical look before flipping it shut. He folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back into the chair. "I'm pretty sure a D is a failing grade." He commented casually, staring off at the ceiling as if there was something interesting up there besides paint splatters.
"I'm pretty sure it isn't."
"I'm pretty sure it is."
"I'm pretty sure it isn't."
"I'm pretty sure it is."
"I'm pretty sure i—"
"It's not a passing grade! Sheesh, just drop it already!" He snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tipping the chair back, he balanced it on the one leg while muttering something under his breath in German. Mathew wasn't sure how long the man stayed like that, head tossed back and probably muttering vulgar German when suddenly the mumbling stopped. That got Mathew worried.
"Gil? You okay?"
"… Excuse me?"
"Do you know what it means to me?"
The blonde swallowed the forming lump that was lodged in his throat with some difficulty. The blonde nervously looked to the side, unsure of what to say or to do. Gilbert's short fuse just gets shorter when he has to tutor somebody (even if he volunteered) and one false move could lead to him exploding and leaving. And that was bad, really bad. Mathew honestly believed that Gilbert was his last hope to saving his grade.
Well, if you add up all the stupid questions I asked and my inability to understand this, he's probably on his last straw. "Uh, yeah, about that." He looked back to Gilbert and a small frown formed when he saw that the man was still in his original position, minus the finger pinching. It looks like somebody drove a stake through his heart.
"You don't know do you?" A loud sigh later, Gilbert straightened his back; hand on the back of his neck dutifully rubbing away the cramp. He feigned a yawn, free hand flipping the book to the right page, red eyes watching the page numbers increase. Pointing a finger to the problem that Mathew wasn't able to figure out, he said, "Obedience is a Prussian virtue." He motioned for his friend to come closer before jabbing the book problem with his finger. "So listen to what I have to say and do it. Okay?"
"What happens if you make a mistake?"
Hmn, he didn't accept right away. Definitely not like his brother. "I probably won't be making a mistake since that'll be pretty stupid for somebody like me." He flashed the Canadian a toothy grin before continuing with what he was about to say. "But if I do… make a mistake—Urgh—tell me." He cleared his throat and wiped off his grin before looking the other male right in the eyes. "I will repeat: listen to what I have to say and do it. Okay?"
To agree or not to agree, that is the question. Mathew told himself as he listed all the pros and cons in his mind. He could feel the albino's heated gaze on his skin, waiting patiently (and with mild amusement he bet) for Mattie's verdict. A frown was on his face when he noticed that the cons where outnumbered just barely. Screw that. "Uh, okay."
He couldn't deny the fact that he could just feel that one corner of his lip twitching and itching to pull his mouth into that lopsided smile of his. Honestly, why was it only that corner? Why couldn't it be both? He fought to keep his smile under control, but it was becoming increasingly harder, especially with Mattie's smile full of laughs right across the table from him. Fuck this. He smiled and Mathew burst into laughter. "Shut up."
"Haha… I won't laugh at you anymore. Just… help me with my homework."
There was grumbling and the scraping of Gilbert's chair bouncing along the tile floor as he hopped closer to Mathew. "Okay," He pointed a finger at the book problem. "First order." He looks the blonde right in the eye. "Give me a kiss." Cheeky grin.
Mathew slammed the book shut hard onto Gil's finger.
"Gil~ I'm tired."
"Gil, can we take a break? My head really hurts."
No response still.
"Can we take a break? Seriously. We've been doing this for three hours non-stop already."
"Gil, um, Kumahiro is eating your pants."
The German slammed the palms of his hand onto the table causing the smaller male to give a little jump in his chair. He stared quizzically up at the German, who just stood there with his head hanging, elbows straight and locked and palms resting on the table. Mathew could hear Gilbert controlling his breathing, an oddly peaceful sound to Mathew. Well, until he screamed out, "OW!" Which was then accompanied by a fluffy polar bear dashing off with a piece of Gilbert's pants.
"Kumajibo! Oh my God, Gil. Are you bl—"
"Uh, let me check…" He peered down at his leg before pulling a face. "They're just scratches that are… kind of bleeding."
"Oh my God… I'm getting the first aid kit."
"Lerne leiden ohne zu klagen!"
The blonde stopped in the middle of his dash to his drawer at the sound of Gilbert's voice. Mathew wasn't too sure what he said, but from the way he said it, he could assume it was a command to stop. The furrow in his eyebrows deepened as he watched as Gilbert slowly pushed his chair farther out and limped over to him. Mathew's violet-blue eyes trailed down to his leg and he couldn't help but wince.
"Gil! Go sit back down!" He snapped, dashing over to usher him back.
"Lerne leiden ohne zu klagen!" He whined, recoiling a bit as the Canadian draws closer and closer. He caught the smaller hands that were reaching for them and started wrestling with Mathew for his right to stand there.
"Gil! Just! Gah… Just stand there then, okay!" He snapped, worry making him agitated. "You're fucking hurt, okay!" He motioned wildly to Gilbert's bleeding leg, face a-flush before turning around and heading back for the first aid kit.
"I'm fine Mattie! Lerne leiden ohne zu klagen."
"Gil, I don't even know what that means! And you're bleeding. From a bear attack."
More whining. "It means learn to suffer without moaning. That's what it means. It's a Prussian virtue… and Kumajiro didn't mean it. It's not like I'm calling Animal Control or something. This." He motioned to his leg wound. "Nothing a little water and soap won't cure."
"I don't know if you're being brave or stupid."
"Brave of course."
"Of course. Hold still, this is going to sting a little."
"Wait! Hold on! Wai— OW! HOLY SHIT THAT BURNS."
"What happened to learning to suffer without moaning?"
"Straightness, another Prussian virtue, you have too much of it."
Mathew looked up from his paper, giving Gilbert an amused glance. He set his pencil down onto the table before propping his head up with his hand. "Is that so?" The small smile that adorned his face grew even brighter at the sight of Gil's very crazy nodding. "Wasn't humility one of the Prussian virtues too? I think you're lacking that."
"Humility? How am I lacking that?"
"In quotes, 'I am totally awesome.' "
A loud scoff came from the albino as he swirled the straw around in the dark colored drink. He took a sip of the soda. "That's some good soda, just letting you know."
"I'm surprised you didn't relate my soda back to how 'awesome' you are. Emphasis on 'my.' " Mathew chided, using the tone a mother would use with her child. "Sheesh," He pulled the drink away from Gilbert as he tried to get one last sip of the beverage. "Did you really have to drink from my soda?"
"I'm not sick or anything."
"I know, but still…"
"At least I didn't use your straw."
"Yeah, I know, but it's still kinda… weird."
"Sheesh, Mattie." Amusement evident in his red eyes, watching silently as Mathew carefully removed his straw from the drink and set it aside. Honestly, the boy would be a wonderful surgeon. Except for the fact that cutting open and living breathing human body would upset the hell out of him. "Have some courage. It's a Prussian virtue you know."
He didn't even try to hide the fact that he rolled his eyes at that comment, even when he picked the glass up to take a sip. "You and your Prussian virtues. Seriously. I've never seen you act one out without telling me."
"What!? I have!"
"Really." Gilbert snapped, pounding his fist on the table his eyebrows all scrunched up.
"Umn hmn. Of course. Example?"
"What?!" The albino barked, his brow furrowing up even more. "An example? Are you fucking serious? God, you're worse than Ludwig sometimes." Despite what he just said, the male set to rummaging through his mind for some examples. Well, there was that one time… Oh. Nevermind, I told Lovino. How about that other… No. I told Francis. Shit. What about… yeah. That could work. "How many examples do you want?"
"I don't know." A shrug. "Three maybe."
"Three!? What are you? My teacher? Sheesh." One colorless hand buried itself in snowy-white hair. He ignored the sharp chirp of Gilbird and the peck that he got as a present. "Well, there's punctuality! I got here on time didn't I?"
"Yeah, with only a second or two left to spare."
"I was still on time! I have austerity don't I?"
"Yep. I remember for Ludwig's birthday, you got him that free birthday coupon that came in the mail."
Hell yeah, being cheap paid off for once. "I have religious tolerance."
"In this type of society, you were pretty much forced to. I think you can find another example."
"I'm being honest, aren't I? Isn't that one of your Prussian virtues?"
A scoff and Gilbo went back to raking his mind for ideas. "Ah! Subordination!"
"What? No, hell no. That's not you."
"Yeah, I know. It's more like you." A smirk grew on his face at the indignant squeak that came from the blonde. He looked to the side, nonchalantly staring off in outer space at the wallpaper and the hanging pictures. "Well, there's reliability. I'm reliable aren't I?"
"Uh… not for projects you aren't. Oh, I remembered one! Self-effacement!"
"Self-effacement? Mehr sein als scheinen? Be more than you seem to be? Isn't that a more… Canadian thing?"
A loud sigh and Mathew took a large gulp of what's left of his drink. He set the glass down onto the table. "Nah. I think it's more of a Prussian thing. You know, with that fake 'I'm totally not lonely' thing." A confident nod. "Yeah, totally a Prussian thing."
He wasn't too sure how this happened or why this happened, but he really didn't mind. It was kind of nice just hanging out in the Canadian boy's room, invited (A.K.A. not having to break in) and watching television. Though with an unconscious blonde napping and using his lap as a pillow, it's pretty weird. But weird is good sometimes. He told himself as he started channeling surfing since the show was over. I just wish that his head were lighter…
His mind kept telling him things. Things like he shouldn't have let Mathew settle into his lap when he fell off his shoulder, that he shouldn't be so damn pleased to hear a soft and content sigh from the blonde every time he runs his fingers through the boy's hair. Honestly, what the hell was happening to him? You are turning me into some sentimental lady. It was a bittersweet thought as Gilbert ran his fingers through the soft blonde locks.
There was a small groan from the sleeping man as he shifted his body into a more comfortable position through making it thoroughly uncomfortable and awkward for the man who he was using as a pillow. Matt, just stop moving around! He felt like snapping when all the Canadian seemed to want to do was alter his position.
The wriggling and squirming continued for a good five minutes (Who knew that Mathew was that much of a restless sleeper?) before it came to a halt. Gilbert peered down at Mathew, a frown coming to his face when he noticed that the boy fell asleep with his glasses on. "Sheesh." Halfhearted grumbles where all he said as he gently, so that he doesn't end up startling Mathew and risk getting a giant bruise on his forehead (he told everybody he got into a fight).
He folded the glasses and set them on the bed stand by the bed before settling against the headboard, a small smirk on his face when he saw one of the TV characters slip on a banana peel. His hand went back to stroking Mathew's hair.
This is actually pretty nice. Gilbert concluded, a warmth spreading throughout his body at the sight of yet another character slipping on a banana peel (but this time, he fell off a cliff too). I wouldn't mind spending nights like this. It's pretty goddamn relaxing… and what the hell am I thinking? His hand stopped the soothing motions once he realized –for real— that he was indeed becoming soft. The quiet groaning of the blonde started up the hand again though.
He didn't really know what was going through his mind. It kind of took a mind of its own. Huh, a mind with a mind of its own. Funny. He stared down at the face of the Canadian, who would be staring right back up at him if his eyes were open. He looks really peaceful. … Damn, I really hate you, kid. Turning me into some kinda pansy or something. But in another part of his mind it said, "Huh. Yeah, of course you hate him." And in yet another part it said, "The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference." He smacked his head to get rid of those thoughts.
The opposite of love isn't hate it's indifference? Do I feel indifferent to him? Gilbert took one look at the sleeping boy and looked back at the television. Do I really need to ask myself that? He tapped his fingers along Mathew's forehead. So I don't feel indifferent to him because that is totally opposite. Opposite…
Oh shit. He looked down at Mathew. He looked back up.
Oh double shit. Oh I fucking hate logic. Was his only thought as he jumped up from where he was seated and sending a sleeping Canadian male into the air and onto the floor. The quiet stream of curses wasn't heard as Gilbert hollered out, "Wer je auf Preußens Fahne schwört, hat nichts mehr, was ihm selbst gehört!" To nobody in particular.
"Gil? Where are you going?" Mathew managed to gargle out in between his efforts to drag his body up back onto his bed.
"To go clear my head."
"O-Okay. Just come—" The loud slam of his door closing. "… Just come back soon… I guess…"
Mathew hauled himself back up onto his bed, still blinking out the sleep out of his eyes and trying to clear the confused haze that clouded his mind. It was just then when he noticed just how lonely his tiny little room was.
1) Wer je auf Preußens Fahne schwört, hat nichts mehr, was ihm selbst gehört - He who swears on Prussia's flag has nothing else that belongs to himself AKA self-denial