11 • 8 • 11
Letting Go of Austria
" What are friend's for?"
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
"Liz. Liz. Lizzy. Liz. Pshhht! Liz. Lizzy. Come on I know you can hear me! Liz! Lizzy!" Gilbert whispered, as he repeatedly poked his friend, who was lounging on the sofa, rather lazily and upset.
"What do you want?" She grunted.
"To do something fun."
"I have to clean." She glanced over to the kitchen, where dishes from her and Gilbert had piled up over the past few days.
She practically threw herself off of the couch, and staggered to the dishes. Gilbert followed in pursuit, pouting like a lost puppy.
"Is it because of what happened a few days ago?"
She turned to him like she was going to hit him, but just burst in a fit of rage. "Did you see how his parents looked at me? Did you see his face?"
"Who? - That Austria idiot. Yea, it was priceless!"
"Gil!"
She reached for her frying pan. As a result, Prussia stepped back a few feet, and used his arms to protect his face.
She sighed and went back to scrubbing the dishes.
Prussia raided the fridge, cracked open a beer, and sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen.
Hungary sighed, and said, "I think I made the wrong choice. I don't think I should of left Austria."
Prussia chocked on his beer, spitting it back up into his can.
"He was a total fag. You deserve better."
"Like who?"
"The awesome me." He propped his feet on the table, and yet again, she threatened him with her skillet. He placed them back on the floor.
"I thought we weren't talking about fags." She sneered.
"We aren't. We're talking about me." He retaliated.
She continued to scrub the dishes in silence.
Prussia just starred at her. She looked so defeated, so depressed.
"You - you can't still be upset."
She remained unresponsive.
"Liz, come on, you left him."
"Like I said, I still don't think it was the right thing to do. At the time, it seemed like a really smart idea. That maybe I didn't love him, but a few days without him, I'm starting to regret my decision."
Hungary jumped as Prussia appeared behind her, a smirk on his face.
"You don't miss him."
"Yes I do."
"No. You don't. I mean what, in God's name, can you miss about that dumb faggot!"
She raised the skillet high, and crashed it on his head.
"Ow, Liz, hey! It's just like old times!" He mused, as he rubbed the top of his head.
"That doesn't hurt anymore?"
"I've gotten hangovers much worse than your flimsy pan."
That earned him yet another attack from the pan.
"Yea, never-mind. I take that back. It still hurts."
To Gilbert's amazement, a small giggle escaped her lips. He didn't even have to try, and he got her to laugh - barely, but it was there, she was smiling again!
He had to keep it going.
"Hey Liz, you wanna know what else is like old times?"
"What?"
As she continued to scrub the food off plates, he came up from behind her - much too close for her liking.
"Remember this?" He asked, as he placed his hands around her waist, and slid them up her figure slowly.
She gasped, grabbed her pan, and turned around to smack him yet again.
"No! No! I don't remember that!"
He shrugged. "It was worth a try."
Yet again, his head clashed with the pan. He was starting to think he had a better relationship with the skillet than he did with Hungary.
"Are you drunk?" She asked, observing him carefully. She knew he did the normal, like slur his words, and stumble, but he also got extremely perverted.
"Liz. I only had like two sips. You know me, I can out-drink anybody, and be completely sober."
"You don't have to get all touchy - feely."
"I'm a guy - I can't resist."
Was it working? He earned himself another collision with the metal cooking utensil. Was she forgetting that stupid, mole - faced pianist yet?
Prussia smirked, despite the pain growing in his head. He was going to make this interesting and beneficial for him.
"Oh Liz." He practically sang.
"What now?"
She dried her hands and returned all the dishes back to their proper place in the cupboard.
"Your done with the dishes, right?"
"Y-yeah." She looked at him questionably. He had that signature Prussian smirk.
"Prussia . . . ?"
"Yesss?" He asked, looking innocent as ever.
"Whatever you're thinking -"
"Liz, come on, you know me better than that. I don't think!"
"Whatever idea is running through your head, is a no."
"What makes you think I was going to do something wrong?"
"That's what you always do."
"I always think?"
"No! You always do something wrong!"
His smile grew wider, and he took a step toward her. "Define wrong."
She threateningly pointed the pan at him.
"I think you finally cracked."
"Maybe, maybe not." He shrugged his shoulders and looked to the window.
He then looked back at her, and closed the two steps between them.
"Wha-"
He propped her up on the counter, and before she could say anything else, forced his lips on her.
"What - are - you - doing?" She asked whenever he separated for air.
"Not thinking, I'll tell you that." He kissed her again.
He was hoping she would just go with it, and drop the skillet that was tight in her group.
And she did drop it - on his head, with a loud bang, that vibrated.
He groaned in pain, but continued to kiss her, placing his arms on either side of her.
Finally, she dropped the skillet, on purpose, and it landed with a dull thud, that rang throughout the whole house.
Prussia kicked it away with his foot, and focused on the task.
Shortly after dropping the skillet, she responded back to him and began to kiss him back.
In his mind, he gave himself a high-five. He reminded himself why he was here, in this situation, kissing the girl he wanted to kiss ever since he found out she was a girl.
He picked her up. She wasn't really that heavy. Or I'm just killer strong. He thought to himself, as he placed her down on the couch.
She laced her hands around the back of his neck, and tugged him back down to her. Their lips greeted again, and as they continued, he still remembered what he was doing this for.
He broke apart from her, but stayed centimeters from her face.
"Liz, can I ask you a question?"
She nodded.
"Who do you love?"
After a few silent seconds, she mumbled, "You."
His smile grew wider than ever before.
"I knew I could make you forget about Austria."
She looked at him with a baffled expression, and asked, "Who's Austria?"
"Kesesesee. Exactly."
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