(A/N): Moist Ducks.
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Gilbert's POV:
Butts.
That's how Gilbert felt.
It had been days since the Prussian had seen the Canadian. If he were to be honest with himself, he felt like a giant, mutant butt.
'It's because of that Damn Lars!' He concluded. 'He's trying to take Birdie's innocence, I just know it!'
After about twenty minutes of this talk, Gilbert had had enough. He rushed over to the Canadians house, not even bothering to knock before entering. He needed to save his Birdie, now.
"MATTIE, I'M HERE TO SAVE YOU!" He called out, only to be met with muffled sobbing. Any thoughts he once had were gone, only to be replaced with maternal instincts that he somehow possessed, making him want to do nothing more than to comfort the other male.
As he crept down the hallway, the noise became louder, indicating that he was nearing its source. Finally, the Prussian reached the males bedroom. Although the lights were off, he could make out the smaller male in his over-sized bed, huddled in a ball of blankets, making him look like a giant tortoise.
"Birdie?" He whispered, his voice sympathetic.
"G-Gil?" He peeked out of the blankets, only to reveal his tear-stained face, his eyes puffy and his cheeks bright red. "What are you doing here? It's really late, you sho-"
"Who did this?" He interrupted, his words boiling with both anger and sorrow. He crept to where the Canadian was huddled, sitting down on the bed and wrapping his arms around the other in a protective fashion.
"Um... Gil? You're scaring me," the Canadian whispered soothingly, reaching an arm out from under the blanket and placing it on Gilbert's arm, rubbing it with his thumb in a soothing manner.
"That doesn't answer my question," Gilbert replied sternly, trying to ignore Matthew's gesture.
Matthew sighed, before slipping back into his blanket cave. "I don't like this time of year, that's all."
"Why not?" Gilbert inquired, looking at Matthew with a puzzled expression.
"Because... well...," he gulped. "tomorrow may or may not be... my birthday," he admitted, shifting under the blankets.
"What!?" The Prussian gasped, reaching under the blankets and pulling out his little buddy (the Canadian one). "and just WHEN were you planning on telling me this?!"
"You never asked..." He reasoned.
"Touché," the Prussian grumbled, placing his elbows onto his knees and resting his chin in his hands. "But why don't you like birthdays?
"It's not that I don't like them," he told him. "I've just never had anyone to celebrate them with."
"Birdie..." He looked over to the Canadian, not hesitating before wrapping his arms around the males slender frame. "I know! We can celebrate together, just thr two of us! How about drinks tomorrow?" He looked at the Canadian with hopeful eyes.
"Can't," he sighed. "I'm nineteen..."
"Woah woah woah, hold up," the Prussian's eyes widened. "you're NINETEEN?!"
"You didn't know my age?" The Canadian retorted, avoiding eye contact. "besides, you never told me your age either, Mr. Awesome."
"You're sooo good with nicknames," he teased. "But I am awesomely twenty-two, if you must know."
"Twenty.... two?" He gasped.
"Problem, young one?"
"N-No! I just expected you to be... twenty-eight?" Matthew admitted shyly.
"Oh hell no," Gilbert removed his arms from around the Canadian. "How could you POSSIBLY think I'm twenty-eight?"
"You act a bit older than papa... that's all," he smiled innocently, slowly creeping out of the blankets and plopping ontop of them. He then patted a spot next to him, indicating he wanted tbe Prussian to sit there, in which he obliged, plopping greedily beside him.
"You know..." Matthew began. "I'm beginning to realize something."
"What is it?" The Prussian inquired, turning to face the Canadian, who was staring up at the ceiling, the light of the moon luminating his features, making him look completely irresistible.
"You're a bit of an idiot," he teased, rolling onto his side, and falling into a peaceful sleep.
"Night, dumbass," Gilbert whispered, rolling onto his side so he could look at the Canadian. "tonight's going to be amazing, you'll see."
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(A/N): kinda short but better than nothing amirite?
Next one shall be longer, or my name isn't Quack Quack Jr.!
Okay maybe it isn't, but it will be.
Don't tell me how to life my life.
I'm stringing out this A/N
So, how are you this fine evening? No? Well okay then.
aaaaaaand 750 WORDS!
(Whispers) I needed to add more to say that I am leaving now, k? 766 words.
