The wind was blowing something fierce, as it always did that time of year. Gilbert's shoulders were hunched against it, the icy feel it carried blowing into his collar, the bottom of his jacket, and anywhere else it could creep in. Stuttgart had it's cold winters, that much wasn't new. The warmth radiating from the booths at the Christmas Market had been a small reprieve, though if one wasn't dressed properly, blue lips and frostbite weren't uncommon.

The old, cobblestone roads let to pavement, old buildings with their dark shingles and off-white walls mingled with the new. It was odd to see, sometimes. Gilbert often wandered around old cities, thinking about what it was like to have lived there in certain time periods, what it was like for families to have been there for generations. Family history could be tracked down fairly easily.

His job required him to travel about, to see new and old things alike, but if he was being perfectly honest, he enjoyed the old more than the new. For one, it meant more opportunities for work, being part of a self-made group of men who found that working with their hands was much better than intellectual pursuits. Restoration to old homes was always needed, especially with several thousand years of history sunk into some of those houses.

It was an exhausting job, one that took an incredible toll on his back. He would come home with sliced up fingers, deep colored bruises the size of his fist, and splinters as long as his palm. Roderich would patch him up: superglue his fingers (Band-Aids were unnecessary), give him ice for the especially painful lumps, and carefully extract the imbedded wood with tweezers, holding Gilbert's arm under a light so that he could see better. It was a taxing job, sure, but he got to see all over the country and bring back things for Roderich, even if that meant being sore for weeks.

Ludwig, his brother, had gone to school before joining them. They needed someone to fiddle with the account books, to ensure they wouldn't be cheated or that they were doing their job legally - complicated stuff that Gilbert didn't really care for. The only thing he cared about was the paycheck in his pocket. He had plans. Bills, of course, but something else, something a bit more special.

The grey skies were darkening fast when he arrived at the apartment complex. Despite wearing gloves, his fingers were still stiff when he jammed the keys into the lock. Warm, yellow light spilled out around him - Roderich was home. He usually was, but it still sent a fluttery feeling up Gilbert's chest.

"I'm home," Gilbert called out as he pulled off his boots in the entryway. He couldn't wait for the slushy kind of snow, the sort that didn't always freeze and sort of signaled the arrival of spring.

"Good, come help me figure out dinner," he heard Roderich shout.

Gilbert hung up his coat on the wooden pegs above the shoe rack, feeling too warm all of a sudden and pushed his sleeves up. He found Roderich rooting around in the fridge, a frown sinking into his pretty face.

"We've got lots of leftovers," Roderich muttered. "But they're odds and ends. Veggies here, some cheese, I don't know. I don't think we should make anything new until we've finished these off."

"Move over," Gilbert said, bumping his hip into Roderich's, earning him another little frown.

In the end, they fried up the vegetables, some leftover ribs, and kroketten, which were basically deep fried balls of mashed potatoes. Roderich would disagree with this statement, saying they involve a hell of a lot more work and a few more ingredients, but it was pretty much just deep fried mashed potato balls. They piled it onto plates and brought it to the table along with Gilbert's mug of beer and Roderich's tall glass of water.

"So how was work?" Gilbert asked, as the frown hadn't completely disappeared from his boyfriend's face.

Roderich sighed, spearing a few carrots onto his fork. "Tiring," he said. "It was one of those days where nobody responds to your questions but rather, gives you blank expressions instead. I know most of them are only there for a credit, but this is music. What isn't interesting about it?"

Roderich worked at the local university, teaching supposedly bright-eyed students about music theory, music appreciation, and the history of music. Upon Gilbert's constant nudging, Roderich had submitted a proposal to the board for the opportunity to teach students the piano or the violin, but he had yet to receive an answer.

"I've got a headache like I was hit by a train," Roderich complained, pressing his fingers into his head. "When you ask a classroom full of students who are supposed to be caught up in the subject matter and get nothing in response, it's rather disheartening!"

"Do you want an ibuprofen?" Gilbert asked. He got a stronger dose from the doctors because of his job. It was handy to always have with him.

Roderich waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I think it's a migraine, that won't help," he said. "But ugh, after this I have to grade these insipid students' papers." With a surge of bitterness, he stabbed at some of the meat.

Gilbert nodded, watching him. Maybe it was best to get his mind off of his work, onto something better, like what Gilbert planned to do with that paycheck. "So I got paid today," he said. "And I was thinking that if we both took some time off, we could go somewhere and-"

"That's not possible," Roderich replied, cutting him off. It gave Gilbert a frown of his own. "Testing is coming up and I couldn't possibly just leave these idiots alone. They would all fail my class and the board would question my ability as a teacher."

"It wouldn't be for very long," Gilbert protested. He had been planning this, building up scenarios in his head. They would travel south, to Austria, to Roderich's hometown, and Roderich would show him around, tell him stories. And then maybe, snuggled up in a cafe somewhere on the edge of evening, he would ask him and it would all be very cozy and neat. "We could make it for a weekend."

"No, I will be swamped with essays and quizzes to grade," Roderich said, rubbing at his temples.
"I can't fall behind on this, it's getting close to the end of the semester."

"I could help you," Gilbert offered. Why was this so difficult? He didn't think he'd get stopped at the very beginning, before he even had a chance to set up the scene.

Roderich gave a dry laugh. "No way," he said. "You wouldn't know anything about musicians and the dates they rose to fame or the year particular compositions were created."

"I could google it," Gilbert said, but he could feel his plans slipping away and the desperate urge to hold on, to keep this afloat, overtook him. "But really, what's the big deal? A few days couldn't hurt. You could even find yourself a really good sub."

"No, Gilbert," Roderich said.

"But why?"

"I've already told you why!" Roderich snapped at him. "I am much too busy to go gallivanting around somewhere!"

"It doesn't really sound like it!" Gilbert retorted. "You've got papers, sure, how long is that going to take you? You're a professor, you have the power to just tell those little shits their papers aren't going to be in the grade book until later! I doubt they'd even give a crap!"

"Why are you making this such a big deal?" Roderich asked, voice still on the rise. "We haven't even made plans, it's not like I'm cancelling on you. We could just as easily go somewhere when the semester is over!"

"I might not have time then!" Gilbert argued, heat filling up his cheeks. "I have a job too, you know! There might be another project, it's the right time of year for people to complain about soggy walls. And then what? We just keep postponing it and postponing it?"

"Why not?" Roderich asked. "It's just a trip!"

"But it's not!" Gilbert shouted and he realized what he had said when Roderich opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows coming together in confusion.

"How is it not just a trip?" he asked. It sounded weird, after shouting, for his tone to be quiet, normal. It left a ringing in Gilbert's ear.

"I just," he started, feeling weak all of a sudden. Like he had just gone through a strenuous workout without eating properly beforehand. "It's just that - I don't know. I thought it could be special. Different."

"How?"

"Just because!"

Roderich sighed. "I don't understand, Gilbert, how could it be different? Whenever we go somewhere, it's always the same. I mean, I've never felt any different." He paused. "And our anniversary isn't for another several months. What would be so special about this?"

"Never mind," Gilbert said and picked up his plate. "It's not important." The silverware clattered as it was dumped in the sink.

"No, Gilbert, it obviously is," Roderich replied, following suit.

"No, really, forget it," he mumbled, making his way to the bedroom. He wanted to get out of his work clothes, take a nice hot shower, and sleep. Sleep and forget about it.

"Gilbert, you're acting really childish now."

"Sure."

"Gilbert. If you don't explain it clearly I won't know what's made you so upset. Honestly, you're worse than a five-year-old. If you could just tell me-"

"It's not important!" Gilbert yelled at him.

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!"

"Gilbert, I swear to God-"

"Fine, you want to know?" Gilbert asked. "I just thought it would be a good time, with both of us financially secure and all to just, I dunno. To take a break and, and ugh. I wanted to know if you'd marry me!"

The words had their desired effect. Roderich's face went blank, blue-violet eyes wide with something Gilbert couldn't decipher.

"What?" Roderich spit out.

"Yeah," Gilbert replied, looking off to the side. He was starting to feel sick.

"But why?"

That was still roughly following the scenario Gilbert had envisioned. The words weren't as soft as he imagined, but still.

Gilbert shrugged, still not looking at him in the face. "We've been together for a bunch of years now, we both have dual citizenship in America, I thought it would be nice to do, even if it's just for us. Germany doesn't have to accept the marriage, but it would mean a lot to us, you know?"

Roderich shook his head and Gilbert's stomach plummeted. "Gilbert, no," he said. "Have you even thought about it? Having to hold a ceremony in America for a superfluous piece of paper that holds no ground here? An expensive piece of paper. An expensive flight. All for nothing."

"It wouldn't be for nothing!" Gilbert snapped back.

"Of course it would!" Roderich said. "And even if that wasn't an issue, I never thought about getting married! I thought about the possibilities, sure, when I was younger. But marriage, just, no."

That was it then. That was what Roderich thought about them, he supposed.

"Why are we even together then?" Gilbert asked. "If you don't care about that?"

"Gilbert, you know that's not what I mean."

"Do I?" Gilbert asked, frowning at a corner of the room, but not really seeing it. He had asked for something ridiculous, it seemed. So obviously stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His head felt heavy, bloated. "I need to go."

"Gilbert, don't be ridiculous," Roderich started, shoulders slumping a bit.

He laughed, sarcastic. "Aren't I already?" Gilbert asked, looking at him full in the face with a bitter smile. But it didn't last. He couldn't make it. So against Roderich's protests, Gilbert pulled both his boots and jacket back on and trudged out into the dark.

"No, he's not here," Francis said, twirling the red cord between his fingers. "Mhmm, of course I'll let you know if I see him. Yes. Yes, okay, goodbye." He hung up the phone only to pick it up again. It was one of those old-fashioned phones, with the twirly numbers. Francis had always had a flair for the fancy - it was obvious in his decor, the way he styled himself, and the books he kept around his apartment.

Gilbert relaxed back into the crème colored cushions of the couch, head tilted back and eyes closed. Francis's German was hilarious, sometimes. Originally from France, his accent pulled through. German took on a different form of speech, different tones. Of course, being European, the language crossed over occasionally with other ones, but still. It was the same way with Antonio; couldn't make some of the sounds.

"Hey Antonio," Francis said into the receiver. "I need you to come over. Because we are hanging out. Boys night. I don't care what you're doing, come over. Good." Once Francis hung up the phone, he went to join Gilbert on the couch. "So what's up?"

Gilbert had arrived at his door with a sour expression and bag full of beer; there was no way he could just say it was nothing. "We just got in a fight," he said.

Francis tilted his head, blonde hair falling from his shoulder, but he didn't probe further. "Need a place to stay?" he asked.

Gilbert grinned. "Yeah, thanks."

Antonio arrived, wearing a disheveled Starbucks uniform. They cracked into the beer, set up the living room with mattresses, blankets, and pillows, and popped in the first Lord of the Rings movie. The three of them didn't make it all the way through the second one, instead waking up to the menu screen the next morning beer cans mingled with the blankets.

Gilbert was wearing borrowed clothes when he left for work. His mind was still heavy, though a little less strained. It was nice to have good friends, ones who didn't need explanations, just a sad face and they were there. They had met over the internet back when Gilbert still wanted to be a knight when he grew up. The only soldier who still wielded a sword, he'd say. He hadn't been sure if chainmail deflected bullets, but he was certain by the time he came of age, technology would have made it possible.

He nodded to Ludwig on his way through the door, heading towards the whiteboard that would list their next project, but Ludwig stopped him.

"Hey Gilbert," he said. "You have the day off."

Gilbert frowned. "No I don't," he said. "I have this weekend off."

"No, I mean, I'm giving you the day off," Ludwig replied, nodding towards one of the conference rooms. "You have a visitor. I suggest you get in there and then get out."

Gilbert made a face that involved scrunching up his nose and sticking his tongue out. "You can't tell me what to do," he said, though he still found himself walking towards the door. "I'll determine if I'm leaving or not."

Despite their obvious height difference, Ludwig had no right to ruffle Gilbert's hair like that. He was the older brother, not Ludwig. Gilbert swung the door open, not entirely sure who to expect, when his gut dropped. And from the look of it, Roderich's did too.

"Hey there," Roderich said. His voice wasn't carrying its usual strength.

The first words out of Gilbert's mouth were, "What are you doing here?" which made Roderich's expression flicker.

"I would think it was obvious after what happened last night," Roderich said.

"No, I mean what are you doing here, now?" Gilbert replied, closing the door behind him. "You have classes to teach." He took a chair and set it down backwards before taking a seat.

Roderich's eyes moved towards the wall. "I called in a substitute teacher," he replied, his tone stiff. "I thought this was more important." He lifted up a bag that had been sitting by his feet. "And I came to apologize."

Gilbert eyed the bag for what must have been a moment too long for Roderich went, "It's beer. I thought we could drink and, and talk."

More beer. If he had any more, he could probably call himself an alcoholic or die trying. "How about we just go home?" he suggested. "I'm kind of tired of beer for the moment."

Roderich nodded, though he looked a bit deflated, like his plan hinged on Gilbert accepting his gift and by not doing so, Gilbert had set them up for a break up speech. The bus ride was quiet, the walk to the apartment filled with awkward conversation about the things going on around them, like a particularly fluffy dog on a walk or the signs on the lamp posts.

When they stepped inside, Gilbert noticed that almost nothing had changed. The dishes were still in the sink, the curtains drawn, and Roderich's bag was still set by the shoes. The only thing he noticed was a blanket on the couch and a rumpled pillow.

"So I had a talk with Lizzie after you left," Roderich said, slow and careful. "And I understand that my reaction was entirely insensitive and I apologize. Can we sit?"

Gilbert followed him to the couch.

Roderich tucked one of his legs up under him. "We talked, on the phone, and I admit, I was furious at first. But it an anger that tipped into guilt and like I said, I'm sorry for the way I behaved. Lizzie informed me of a few things I was not aware of, and after looking at it myself, I would like to ask for your thoughts. First, though, I'd like to explain myself." Roderich stopped and gave him a look.

Gilbert nodded and reached for the bag. Maybe he wanted to be drunk for this.

Roderich's expression relaxed a little. "I thought about marriage at some point. Thought about the possibilities. But that was years ago and I came to realize that marriage is silly. It is only to appease society, to get benefits from the government. We've lived together, content with just being together and I wondered why that wasn't enough," he said. "What made marriage so appealing? Especially in a country that did not allow it. And I still hold that opinion."

Gilbert took a larger gulp. He was listening.

"But Lizzie pointed out something last night that I admit, I hadn't thought about. Because I don't care about it, why can't I just go through with it. Since I don't really dislike it, but rather don't see any sense in it, why should it spoil your fun? It won't really impact me in any way," Roderich said. "Which brings me to the topic I brought up before. Lizzie informed me of something called a Civil Union."

Huh. Gilbert's nose crinkled up as he tried remembering why that sounded familiar. He didn't often listen to politics, much more interested in the here and now of everything. Only when things turned drastic would he actually take a stand.

"And it basically allows two people of the homosexual, er, persuasion to have nearly the same rights as a married couple," Roderich said, his cheeks growing darker. "And I thought this was something. So I, I just thought that maybe, you know, you'd be interested in, in something like this. Instead. You register and everything."

Gilbert felt like an idiot. First came the elation and everything of his previous plan working, of course, but by God did he feel like an idiot. He should have known this. This was something he should have looked up or had common knowledge about. But then again, Roderich hadn't known either, it seemed.

"Is that a thing you'd like to do?" Roderich asked. "We could have a ceremony and everything if you really wanted. Of course, there was Lizzie threatening to punch me out if we didn't, so there's that, but if you don't want to, we can still go to America-"

Gilbert cut him off the best way he knew how - by kissing him until they both needed to breathe. "Yes," he said, pressing their foreheads together and kissing him again. "Of course yes! I mean, not the America thing, that was dumb, but this, this is cool!"

Roderich relaxed entirely, smiling in this melty sort of way. "I'm glad," he said, leaning against Gilbert's shoulder. "Honestly, I should have known about this. I feel ridiculous not having known this."

Gilbert laughed.

When it became quiet, the sort of comfortable quiet where the two of them just thought, Roderich said, "But you know, you still need to propose. The last time was awful. I want a real ring and everything."

"Damn," Gilbert replied. "Do I have to kneel too?"

"Yes," Roderich said. "In front of a whole crowd of people. But seriously, don't do it. If you do, I'll kill you before the wedding. Which, thinking about it, won't benefit me at all. I can't collect life insurance that way. Never mind."

"Thanks."

Roderich smiled and leaned in for a short kiss. "But now that we have the day off, it seems, would you like to do something?" he asked. "We could go anywhere."

"Even Austria?"

"Why would you want to go there?"

"No reason," Gilbert said, his mouth turning up. "No reason at all."