I Don't Believe It's There: PruCan

Non-French Speakers

Matthew's (Canada's) POV

I was almost too intimidated to enter Gilbert's house. Loud heavy metal music was blasting from the home that could probably be heard a mile away. And I'm not exaggerating.

I first knocked. When there was no reaction, I opened the door. I looked around to find that the two Germanic brothers were wrestling competitively, grasping hands trying to push each other down. If they hadn't been smiling and taunting, I would've thought that they were fighting.

Germany double taked at the sight of me and Gilbert took this chance to muster all of his strength and fling the muscular blonde to the ground. Swiftly climbing over Germany, Gilbert pinned him down and hollered, "VICTORY FOR THE AWESOME PRUSSIA!" As loud as he yelled, it was almost drowned out by the electric guitar solo that was coming from the speakers in the living room.

Germany playfully shoved him off, chuckling. It messed with my mind that the uptight German could actually smile. Much less be playful. I suppose his older brother brings it out of him. Either way, it still left me flabbergasted.

Gilbert rolled off and grabbed a remote from the couch. With it, he drastically turned down the volume, giving mercy to my ears. "Hey Matt!" He greeted, "What brings you here?"

Germany had slinked away somewhere before I could talk to him. "Is this what you guys do in your free time?" I question, a little delirious.

Gilbert shrugged, "No. It just... happened." He laughed, "We never get to 'play' after he grew up. Maaan, he used to be so cute when he was little."

"Everyone's cute when they're little."

He sighed, "Not so cute as a grown up. But..." he made direct eye contact with me, "some people are still adorable after they grow up.

"E-Eh? Is that so?" My face grew warm. Was he... referring to me?

He smirks and slowly wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. "You're very cute." He tugged on the piece of my hair that always stuck out. My curl. I could feel him pull me closer, his moist breath hitting my cheek. Every contact we made, felt feverish. As usual, he was as hot as an oven. My heart fluttered, butterflies filling my stomach; I almost couldn't handle this sudden contact. Almost.

I became concerned that his brother would see us. "Gi-Gil! What if Germany sees us?" I halfheartedly resisted against him, putting a hand on his chest.

His hand gently took ahold of my chin, "It's okay. If he heard me talking about him, he would've said something. He's probably in his room."

"B-B... But..." I was melting, from the heat of his body, and the heat of his words.

"Shhh," he hushed before he laid his lips on mine. I wasn't sure what to do with this kiss. It was different; passionate, slow, and romantic. It wasn't quick or rushed like pecks. As we kissed, I could feel his tongue trace my upper lip, making me shudder.

I wasn't sure how, or when this happened, but I ended up on his couch, the Prussian's large muscular frame looming over my smaller one. The movement of my lips matched with his, our bodies moving in unison and the tracing of his fingers leaving a tingling trail down my sides.

Although he was large and rambunctious, you'd expect him to be a rough kisser. He was opposite. He held me like I could shatter and disappear at any moment, his touches were soft and almost cautious. Did he wonder if I would allow him to touch me this way? Was he testing? Even his lips were light and smooth, sucking gently on my lower lip now and then.

His hand met mine, and I felt him smile. I blinked while we paused, "What?"

He put my hand on his chest, the only thing preventing the skin contact being the thin material of his black tang top. "You're cold." His chest was so warm that I had to put my other hand on. I felt him chuckle lowly at the contact of my other hand.

"How can you be so damn warm?" I huffed, flipping my hands.

"It's a nice trait to have, especially in such a cold country," he leaned over and kissed my forehead, slowly trailing the kisses back to my lips. Just as we were getting back into it, Gilbert stiffened, then quickly sat up. I popped my head up just in time to see Germany walk into the living room.

"Bruder, for lunch should I boil the knockwurst or bratwurst sausages?" He came in holding two packages of sausages and wearing an apron.

Gilbert frowned, "You don't have to cook every time guests are over."

Germany frowned back, "Either way, lunch time is approaching."

The Prussian sighed in defeat, "Knockwurst. I'm in a garlicky mood."

"Garlic?" My eyes widen.

Gilbert turned to me, "Yeah. Is something wrong?"

The truth was that I couldn't stand garlic, but I couldn't just ask for them to not cook it. That would be rude. "It's nothing."

He narrowed his eyes, analyzing me. As if he read my mind, he changed the menu, "Wait West, could we just have some mashed potatoes?"

"No sausages?" He questioned.

"Actually," I piped up, "Bratwurst on the side sounds good." One of the only German sausages that I knew of, Bratwurst. It's made of pork and beef, which didn't include garlic.

Germany nodded thoughtfully and left, already opening one packet of sausages.

I heard Gilbert snort. "What?" I ask.

He held in his laugh and mocked, "Brahtwerst."

"At least I don't sound stupid speaking French!" I shot back, noticing he was mocking my lack of German pronunciation.

"My French is not that bad," He claimed.

I crossed my arms. "Oh yeah? Prove it."

Taken aback, he pressed his lips together. Clearing his throat, he said, "J'aime luh feneitreh." (J'aime la fenêtre)

I shook my head, my fingers holding the bridge of my nose. "No. No. Please don't ever speak French again."

His arm raised and pointed at me. "Ceh nei pah oon ohrloge." (Ce n'est pas une horloge)

"..." kill me.

He ended with a smirk, "J'adohr luh Mathieu." (J'adore la Mathieu.)

J'aime la fenêtre: I like the window

Ce n'est pas une horloge: That is not a clock.

J'adore la Mathieu: I love the(feminine) Matthew.

If you guys have learned other languages, you'll know what I mean by feminine words and stuff. But as you can see, Gilbert's French is shit. I don't know if I got any French speakers to laugh out there, but that sums up about all my French. That's right ya geekaleeks, I speak (very little) French. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I loved making it... for multiple reasons (wiggles eyebrows)

Let the winds blow you to your destiny my hormonal teenagers!