A/N: YES, I should be working on Plastic Ring. But this popped into my head this morning and I just couldn't resist. I love writing for America and for Belarus, but Prussia is a must.

I hope I'm not disappointing anyone who put me on their alert list. I promise I'll start working on it soon.

But in relevance to the story:
I had a lot of fun writing this. Prussia's an amazing character to write for. Though I feel that I swung his mood too much...

Human names: Yes, sorry.
Again, for the reference of the unaware:
*Gilbert Beilschmidt = Prussia (I'm pretty sure I spelled that last name wrong. Nobody agrees how to spell it, and some people use W instead of B.)

*Feliciano Vargas = Northern Italy

*Ludwig = Germany

Enough.

Enjoy 3

"Veee~, Prussiaaaa!"
"Hm? O-oh! Heyyy Italy! What's up?"
"I was reading your blog yesterday! And and and I was wondering something!"
"How'd I get so awesome?"
The happy-go-lucky Italian man shook his head. "Where's your little bird? It was so cuute! I wanted to pet it- hey, Prussia? Where are you going?" His pathetic smile curved down, watching the narcissist wander off.
What exactly he was replying to was as unclear as his mumbling voice faintly replying "Dunno..."

"Diary. I was so awesome today. Y'see..." Gilbert routinely read this phrase each day (albeit often with slight variation) when he scribbled down the stories of his daily greatness. Normally, he would trail off into some nonsense about blessing the people with his very presence.
This week was different. His entries grew shorter and less detailed. Yesterday was just awesome. No more. Just that phrase.
This week was different in Gilbert's life. For so long, a tiny puff of adorableness perched on his shoulder. Everyone would ask about it. After some time, he embraced the inquires. He couldn't even estimate those durations. If he truly wanted, he had a full room of diaries to look through for an exact date.
But he didn't even want to read about Gilbird.
People just all together stopped asking why the chick was there. Nobody asked to pet it. Why? It was too soft to resist. Even Ludwig probably snuck in a few test pats.
Gilbert found out why yesterday. A certain awesome guy from Europe's boot had brought to his attention that Gilbird wasn't even there in his recent blog pictures. When taking them, the nation was 100% sure the bird was in those shots...but he checked. Feliciano, as expected, did NOT lie EVER.

It was just time to give up hope when he saw them. Myriad white feathers formed a path through the house window, traveling through the kitchen. Re-tracing the feather's path totally -including jumping through the window like an action film star- he wound up face-to-face with a fowl in the living room, cozy on the couch.
Its screeching ba-caw was unusual, but unmistakable. A huge grin spread on the Prussian's face as he realised. "Gilbiiiird!"
The two animals grappled for several minutes before Gilbert could managed hugging his beloved companion. In said grapple, about half the fowl's feathers fell on Gilbert, and the noise was deafening. He stared at the bird curiously, treating it like a new specimen. Disappointment kicked out the joy.
This chicken was not optimal for its prior position. It was perhaps three times its child size, sounded like a dying choir, was not so "pattable", and, to be quite honest, not so cute. Cleaning the mess would be horrendous, especially if Ludwig saw it. Not only would the chicken not fit on his shoulders and head, but it'd be generally a bad idea to perch it there.
Tears welled up in his eyes again. He did NOT want to make this decision, but it was practically made for him by fate. "Gilbird...I'm so sorry. We had an awesome run, and you are one of the few things in this world as great as me..." Gilbert sniffled. A lengthy speech followed, recounting different memories of their coolness.

"Farewell...old friend..." But not quite. "Hm?" Gilbert let out as he kneeled. He was about to gently place down his companion right where it last sat, but instead noted a gift from God. A white oval. Wait...Gilbird's a girl?
As the tear flow halted, he couldn't halt his widening grin. Suddenly, he put aside all of the reasons against keeping his friend. He didn't mind that his chick was a chick. Instead, he triumphantly held up his "Jillbird" and let out a most victorious cry of "YES!" in his realisation. Her feminine capabilities meant one great thing that helped convince Gilbert to try to at least hide her. His scream echoed throughout the house, "GILBIRD MACHIIIIIIIIINE!"