Author's note: I do not own Hetalia, or any of the characters; I love messing around with 'em, though. (I don't own the cover image, either!)
If you ask him, Gilbert will tell you he's a man of many talents.
He can swing punches that knock the hell out of you, he can play the flute pretty well and, contrary to popular belief, can make decent food without shaming the German cuisine.
About the one thing Gilbert was never quite so awesome at (though he will always attempt to convince you otherwise) is romance.
He wasn't sure if it was his scarred hands, usually-chapped lips, or just his general daunting demeanor—but he always felt that he could never really give his boyfriend the love life he deserved.
Not that Matthew complained (goodness, did the guy ever complain about anything?), but Gilbert always had those occasional thoughts that would bug him . Normally, he would easily dismiss them.
Today, they were gnawing at his mind.
"Gilbert? Everything okay?"
Ironically, it was a soft and concerned voice that jerked him back to reality. The distant look in his deep red eyes vanished, and they rested on the owner of the voice.
Initially, he'd cowered in fear when they'd first set on him—a frosty winter morning much like this one—but no longer did Matthew run away. Not from his childish assumptions, nor his feelings, and definitely not from Gilbert.
"Ja, I'm fine." Gilbert's reply was automatic. "Just awesome." He added, grinning. The effect was immediate; it drew the fondest smile on the Canadian's face.
"That's good. You looked like you were deep in thought, and I got worried it was something troubling."
Gilbert's hand found Matthew's hair and he ruffled it, smiling to himself as he watched him laugh in that harmonious way of his as he attempted to blow away the honey-coloured bangs falling into his eyes. Gilbert brushed them away for him.
"You don't have to worry about me." He reassured. "You get this frown on your face and it really irks me because it doesn't suit you. You look more awesome when you smile."
"Ha-ha," Matthew rolled his eyes playfully, but there was no denying the lovely shade of rosy pink that dusted his cheeks. "…That was cute." He added quietly.
It was Gilbert's turn to blush, which was much more prominent on his face thanks to his pale complexion. He always thought that was…quite inconvenient. But it made Matthew's smile wider, and suddenly, he didn't really dislike it.
Silence passed between the two, in which Gilbert subconsciously pursed his lips and his left hand—the one that wasn't, also subconsciously, playing with Matthew's hair—picked at the fabric of the couch they were sitting on. He was never this nervous or insecure in his boyfriend's apartment before; what was happening to him?
The German didn't calm down until Matthew, carefully and delicately, removed his hand from his hair and laced his own fingers through it. Gilbert's other hand ceased the fiddling and instead gripped the edge of the couch like he would fall over sitting down.
"It's cold outside, isn't it?" He smiled shyly—a smile that could end wars and vanquish pain. Halt storms and sew torn hearts. Only his Matthew could smile like that, and only Gilbert saw it, considering everyone else never really noticed the Canadian. He'd been irritated by that at first, but later he came to prefer it. That smile was for him, and only for him.
"Do you want to…erm, cuddle?" Matthew continued, albeit a little awkwardly. "It's warmer that w-way." Gilbert thought the way he stuttered at the end was adorable.
"Cuddle? I'd probably crush you." Despite the lighthearted note in his voice, there was a little bit of that uncertainty given away.
Gilbert always felt that he was too tough for Matthew; a sharpened ax next to a delicate flower. His voice was loud and to some people annoying (though he'd laugh in their faces if they told him that). His palms were scarred from the men he'd had to defend his brother from a long time (or was it a day?) ago. His eyes were the colour of the blood he would sometimes get splattered with—he happened to pick a lot of fights.
Matthew's voice was the gentle whisper of care, his fingers were nimble and brushed across his skin like he was made of glass, and his eyes were hues of violet that blended with each other perfectly.
Sometimes it seemed impossible how the two even agreed on anything.
Matthew, however, was thinking of something else.
"Fine, then, you don't have to do anything. Just relax." And before he could protest, Gilbert was pulled into a warm embrace—delicate hands holding him firmly yet gently; one holding his own, the other running through the silver streaks in his snow-white hair. Gilbert's face was hidden in the crook of his neck, and he could feel the comforting rise and fall of his chest, hear the rhythm of his beating heart.
It was pure bliss.
In mere seconds, Matthew had done what Gilbert would've probably spent weeks planning to do—he'd made his lover feel at home and it had nothing to do with the place.
"Are you...better now?" He murmured, wrapping his arms a little tighter around him, his heart doing a little dance every time Gilbert breathed into his neck.
"…Better…?" The German echoed, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He felt Matthew nod. "I know something's troubling you, Gilbert. I won't pretend to know what it is, because I don't, but…I just want you to be comfortable, and to know that I'm always here if you want to talk."
"Hah, Mattie." Gilbert said, "You're hella awesome, you know?"
"Mhm…" He could feel the smile in the mere hum of his voice. "Je t'aime aussi, Gilbert. I love you too."
Gilbert's eyes went wide as he abruptly sat upright, his heart pounding in his ears, a warm yet somewhat knotted feeling engulfing him. He voiced his thoughts before he could stop himself.
"How did you know that's what I wanted to say?"
Matthew looked startled at the sudden movement, but he quickly got over it and said, his eyes gleaming with amusement, "I don't need words or actions to know your feelings, Gilbert. I just do. It's a…well, you could say it's like a sixth sense or something?" The Canadian wasn't yet done, however, and Gilbert knew he was staring at him, but he couldn't stop himself. Matthew could do this so easily—make him feel so special, so wanted, so loved…
"I know it's not easy for you to express your feelings. I know you grew up having to live it rough, fighting like every day was a battle…and you couldn't let yourself trust anyone…" The albino's eyes darkened, but still, there was more to be said. "But that doesn't mean you have to push yourself so hard or beat yourself up if you can't say exactly what you want to."
His delicate fingers brushed against the paler ones, and he was smiling, once again, in that way that would make nature sing for him, and suddenly Gilbert was practically crushing him in a hug, holding him so tightly as if he were afraid he'd vanish. A slight gasp of surprise escaped Matthew's lips, but otherwise he remained quiet, and yet Gilbert knew he was smiling.
He always seemed to know when he was smiling, now that he thought about it. Maybe it was that 'sixth sense' thing Matthew had mentioned.
When Gilbert pulled away and the irises of blood met those of lavenders, he immediately decided that he wanted to hold him close again; so he pulled him in for a kiss.
Deep, long and true; salty lips atop sweet ones; hands that held the other endearingly and didn't want to let go…it was a kiss devoid of words, but every single unspoken sentiment and confession was communicated perfectly. I love you, I love you, I love you. One could never say it—or show it—enough.
They never wanted to part, but their lungs demanded oxygen and they inhaled deeply, half-laughing, half-gasping for breath.
"Oh God, I love winter mornings." Matthew sighed, looking happily past Gilbert and out the frosted window behind him.
"Do you now?" Gilbert smirked, but felt his insides melt when those lovely eyes shifted their gaze to him. Their fingers reached for each other once more, and they leaned so close their foreheads touched. They took their time breathing in the other's scent. Maple trees, and the night forest.
Matthew whispered, "I'd finally mustered up the courage to talk to you on a winter morning. We had our first kiss on a winter morning…even if it was accidental." He chuckled softly. "Everything wonderful that happens to me…happens on a winter morning."
Gilbert decided that he, too, loved winter mornings.
Here ya go! Somethin' cute to draw a smile on your face, I hope. :) It's just a little fluffy piece I started at midnight and finished at two a.m. a week ago. Don't ask why I get inspiration at the most absurd of times…
Anyway, if you take your time to read this, thank you! Reviews are appreciated!
~D.J.