Title: Something Out Of Nothing
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Prussia/Hungary
for the prompt memorable at 15_minute_fic


In the parlor, Gilbert tinkered with the figurines; his fingers fluttered against the coasters as he tried to keep the glass steady. From the kitchen, Elizabeta called out, "what are you doing?"

Gilbert cleared his throat. He shuffled the mental cues in his mind; he smoothed over the wrinkles on his shirt. "Nothing," said he, and pocketed a quiant doll - an imitation of her likeness, poor in quality without the brightness of her eyes, the strained severity in her motions.

"With you, nothing means something." Her laughter was clear and crisp. He hid the subtle clenching of his jaw with a harsh cough.

"Just playing with your girly dolls again," said he. He sounded cross and arrogant. So many feelings he wanted to get across and failed to, consistently. So many condensations of his thoughts and nothing came to action. Defeat tasted like bile and imprecations of the sour kind; he surrendered to her when she appeared in the doorway, an image of perfection.

Her arms folded over the swell of her chest; he averted his eyes as she spoke. "Thank you for your honesty."

His chick chirped, safely ensconced in the midst of piles of cloth and thread; her basket rustled with every bob of Gilbird's beak, with the scratch of a toe. "Whatever," mumbled Gilbert, and stroked a porcelain cheek cushioned in his pocket, the only place he could keep her.