Author's Note – Hey y'all, I'm restarting this little series because I feel bad that I abandoned it and I've had an itch to write lately. I've deleted the first, rather old, prompt, but decided to keep this one since it's surprisingly well written. Please enjoy and look forward to new chapters coming your way very soon.

Disclaimer – I don't own Hetalia, or any of its characters.

1 – Paper Cut

It was itching at the back of Arthur's mind. He couldn't work, couldn't hold a conversation, couldn't even think all because of it. The bubbly feeling in his stomach when they made eye contact across the meeting room was both exciting and infuriating. Many thoughts came to mind when he saw that smirking face from down the table: a young boy taunting him for growing out his hair, a firm body providing comfort when he needed it most, a war-torn and defeated man begging for help. Oh yes, Arthur felt many things when looking upon the Great Prussia, but it was preferable not to analyze those emotions while amidst such an important affair as a world meeting.

All of this would have been easily ignorable, put off until later, if Gilbert didn't hold such a challenge in his gaze. It was as if he wanted Arthur to crack, but no sir, he would not, thank you very much. At least, that's what he told himself. Gilbert was making that reality much more difficult than was truly necessary by making obscene gestures in Arthur's direction when Ludwig wasn't looking. Beside him, Francis shifted to whisper in his ear.

"Are those for you, Britain?" Francis whispered suggestively, practically purring out the title as he discreetly jabbed a finger towards Gilbert. "And here I was thinking you two were on iffy terms. Should Antonio and I be expecting some more alone time, hm?"

Arthur started and gave a hard glare to Francis. Underneath the table, he gave the other nation a kick to the shin, resulting in a satisfactory yelp from a certain Frenchman and an annoyed grunt from the German at the table who was currently speaking about textile markets. Arthur gave Ludwig a false smile until the meeting continued on. The smile faded from his lips as soon as Ludwig looked away.

"Look here you frog," Arthur hissed quietly, "there is no way I'd want to be involved in any way whatsoever with any one of you three. You're all idiots." Which wasn't very true, seeing that he and Gilbert went out for drinks occasionally, but there was no need to share that. Francis silently gasped, placing a hand to his chest in faux hurt.

"Oh, how you wound me, Arthur!" He murmured softly, resting a gentle hand on Arthur's shoulder only to have it immediately slapped off. "I'll have you know, mon ami, that Gilbert very much enjoys you. And, from the way you get flustered when he looks at you, I would say you enjoy him as well."

Arthur's face felt hot as he tried his hardest not to pummel the man next to him in front of their peers. He took a deep breath before spitting out an insult and defiantly swiveling his chair to face away from Francis. What did he know about how Arthur felt? It wasn't like Gilbert had infatuated him, he was just infuriating enough to pursue. Wait... that didn't sound right. A small huff of frustration fell from his lips.

He certainly didn't have sexual feelings towards Gilbert, that much he was sure of. Admiration for building a great empire and enduring as much trauma as he had, yes, but lust? Not on his agenda. What was on his agenda, however, was ignoring the smug bastard who was openly making eyes at him from the Germanic section of the long table.

It just didn't make sense, England and Prussia. When had they ever been good for each other? Arthur thought back to the Seven Years' War. In those times, they'd gotten along swimmingly. It came as a surprise but when someone he didn't like was on the opposing side, Gilbert actually worked pretty hard to win. Despite what others may say, Arthur still feels a pang of guilt when he thinks about those years. While he went off to stop French colonies from progressing, Gilbert took most of the damage protecting their territory. Then came the persistent pleas for money. It still hurt his head thinking about how financially unstable Gilbert was back then.

Yes, they'd had some good times plundering their neighbors, but that didn't excuse the terrible traitorous act that Gilbert committed during Alfred's little rebellious phase. Even though it was in the past, Arthur still found himself bitter when thinking about it. After all they'd been through, how could Gilbert just abandon him for that brat?

It was after that point that their relationship took a turn for the worse. With Arthur holding a decades old grudge and Gilbert making poor life decisions, their conversations were all but friendly. Icy was a better word. That is, until the Prussian Dissolution occurred. 1918 was not a good year for Gilbert. He wound up on Arthur's doorstep more than once and the Brit felt obligated to show him in and sit down for a drink, which led to a long kept tradition. It had been quite a while since someone in their area lost everything. Gilbert tried to stay on the bright side. Arthur could tell it was only a mask.

If 1918 was bad, 1947 was worse. The Allied Control Council, that Arthur was rather shamefully a part of, officially liquidated the Free State of Prussia. After that, he didn't see Gilbert for a few years. Rumors began to fly. He was dead, he was hiding in Ludwig's attic, he had merged with the German populous to live out his days as a citizen.

And then, one day, Arthur came downstairs to find Gilbert calmly sipping a beer in his living room. No matter what Gilbert says, Arthur will always fervently deny that he teared up. That afternoon they had a long talk about life, with Arthur yelling about how everyone including himself thought that Gilbert was dead, and Gilbert shrugging it off, not saying a word.

Their relationship stung a bit, like a paper cut, but the hurt was welcome. A tough past just paved way for a brighter future. These were the thoughts the ran through the Brit's mind as he watched Gilbert twirl around in his chair. For a moment their eyes met before quickly finding other more interesting things to look at. A ghost of a smile graced Arthur's lips.

It, he thought, is quite nice.