Author's Note: Ok, so I really missed writing my OTP. I've been in the middle of a lot of England projects, so Prussia's been forced into the backseat. Thankfully, I managed to get this little drabble written between updates of my main story. Hope you enjoy~
Disclaimer: Hetalia and its respective characters are property of Himaruya
There was something oddly endearing about watching Roderich while he was asleep. Not that Gil was trying to be creepy or anything. It just so happened that the Austrian had the tendency to sleep later than Gilbert. It also happened that Gilbert couldn't bring himself to wake the other.
Though it was nearly eleven, the aristocrat remained in the clutches of unconsciousness. Gil wasn't surprised; he had heard the piano singing until almost four. Roderich had fallen victim to one of his fits of creativity, which meant that Gil would get to see this for another week until Roderich burned out again.
A soft smile tugged at the albino's lips as he continued to look over his still-dreaming lover. The way that he curled up beneath the covers, his face completely relaxed, was nothing short of adorable. Occasionally, he would mutter nonsense under his breath, or sigh contentedly.
Dark lashes fanned across his cheek, fluttering lightly as he slept. Feather-light breaths passed through barely parted lips. His slender fingers grasped the edges of the covers that he kept pulling on, much to Gilbert's amusement.
Gil ran his hands through the musician's hair, and snickered as his hand was lazily swatted away. It was a shame that Roderich couldn't see how beautiful he was. Gilbert didn't think that the pianist needed to spend so much time styling his chocolate-toned hair to look nice. He didn't need glasses to give his aristocratic face 'character'. His lithe body didn't need to be hidden away by overly-formal clothes.
But, Gilbert supposed that if Roderich didn't do any of these things, he wouldn't be the man Gil fell in love with. It was all these little quirks that made the prissy aristocrat special to him.
But it was still a shame, Gilbert decides he pressed a butterfly-light kiss on the Austrian's temple.