This was written for Corrupt Lament, who's as awesome as Prussia, as a birthday present. Happy Birthday, Prussy~ :)
This is a collaboration between TeamKillingFTard and I, and the result of a couple long nights on MSN chat, even though we were sitting right next to each other. ^.^ Hope you enjoy it! K:

TeamKillingFTard: Happy Birthday, Red Bastard~
You might have converted me to PruHun, but I shall always be AmeriCan. Damn, that sounded patriotic. xD You are one of the only people I would work with Taco for, so feel special, Gilbird.
Anyway, PruHun, three-shot. Ermm... LiechCan if you close your eyes and pretend.

Will he love you like I loved you?

Will he tell you everyday?

Will he make you feel invincible,

With every word that he'll say?

~Like We Used To, by A Rocket to the Moon.

Prussia peeked in the window of the large mansion- he wasn't above being a peeking tom- and watched Hungary twirl around in a wedding dress, a sad smile on her face as she studied herself in the mirror. So the rumors were true. She was getting married, and didn't tell him. That almost stung more than her getting married in the first place.

He rapped his knuckles on the window, startling her from where she had been smoothing the dress.

"Gil- what the fuck are you doing here?"

The man in question smiled. He was the only one who had the awesome ability to transform Hungary into the swearing, crass tomboy she once was.

"What are you doing in a wedding dress?" he answered a question with a question, sliding the window open and climbing in nimbly.

Her cheeks flushed, as she had the decency to look slightly embarrassed that she had been caught getting married without telling him. But then she remembered that it was Prussia, intolerable, annoying, disrespectful Prussia that was climbing through her window; it was Prussia asking nosy questions; Prussia invading the privacy of her home.

"We have a damn door," she snapped, "and I'm wearing a wedding dress because I have a funeral to go to," she continued, sarcasm thickly covering her words.

"Who died?" he asked with a grin.

"You," she snapped.

"But that seems physically impossible, seeing as though I'm standing here, talking to you."

"Oh, you should see Austria. He does lots of things that seem physically impossible," she remarked snarkily.

Gilbert winced. "I really don't want to hear about you and that aristocrat fucking."

"Go away before I hit you with a frying pan," she threatened, before returning to her task of straightening out her veil. Prussia stepped over and straightened it for her, brushing his fingers over her bare shoulders.

She turned to face him, "What game are you playing? Why are you doing here?"

"The 'See How Much I Can Piss Elizaveta Off Game'," he replied with a smirk, ignoring the second question.

"Cut the shit, Gilbert," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

His smile dropped, no trace of it left on his now serious face. "As soon as you do, Eli."

Hungary flinched at the use of her childhood nickname.

"Prussia," her use of his country name contrasted with the familiar endearment, "I'm serious."

Prussia sighed, and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Who are you kidding, Elizaveta? I know you're up at night thinking about me, just as much as I am about you."

Hungary's breath caught in her chest at his frank words, but she turned and pushed him away. "I'm getting married, Gil. I'm with Austria in the middle of the night. I love him."

"Then why do you call him 'Austria', and not Roderich?" Prussia challenged, smirking. He knew she couldn't answer that question.

Elizaveta flushed at her mistake. "You are impossible," she said, deliberately not answering his question. She knew the answer just as well as she did.

"That's what they tell me," he said proudly.

"Why are you here, Gilbert? Really, tell me why," she asked impertinently.

His eyes met hers, looking at her accusingly. "I don't know... maybe because I had to hear that you were getting married from Matthew, who heard it from Lilli, who heard it from Vash, who Roderich saw in the fucking grocery store? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice betraying his hurt.

"Because..."

"Because?" he repeated, his voice climbing in volume, "Because it was easier not telling me? Because you know that you're making a mistake marrying him?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She lowered her head.

"Yes," came the quiet answer after a couple silent moments full of tension, "yes, I'm may be making a giant fucking mistake, but this is what my people need. Austria will be a very powerful ally."

"But don't you remember the things that we used to do, Eli? Dancing in the rain, playing as children? Remember that fucking frying pan?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

"Remember that day, fourteen months ago?"

"Don't say anything about that day. It was a mistake," she said sharply.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. I can tell."

"How?" she insisted, her hands on her hips, her head held high. Because of the height differences, her face was tilted up to meet his gaze. Her face was flushed from the arguing, her green eyes demanding an answer. His eyes bored down into hers, their bodies inches from each other.

"Because I know you, Eli." It was a flash decision- or maybe not- when he ducked down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her eyes went wide, and she broke away from the arms that had wrapped around her.

"Goddamn it, Poroszorsáz!" she swore, surprise making her native tongue come out.

"I'm just doing what you won't," he replied, his voice serious.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm getting married. To Roderich," she told him, eyes pleading him not to make this harder than it already was.

"Roderich is a pushover. How many times do I have to tell you? You don't love him, not like you love me."

"No, I don't. But I'm marrying him, not you."

"Stop using that excuse, Eli."

"But I am!" Her arms were stiff at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.

"Just because you're marrying him doesn't mean you don't love me more." It should have been a teasing tone that he was using, but it wasn't.

"It doesn't matter! I'm marrying him, not you, and I wish we could stay friends, Gilbert, but I don't think we can, if you're going to act like this. We should just stay away from each other."

"Do you think we can stay away?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her. A soft trail of kisses on her neck made her shiver and knees go weak.

"I-I don't know," she breathed, "but we have to."

"Do we really? Roddy doesn't need to know."

"Gilbert!" she admonished, "I can't cheat..."

"Why not? Give me one reason, and that you're getting married doesn't count."

"It's not fair to Roderich," she censured.

"Since when has life been fair? If life was fair, you wouldn't have to sneak around him to be with me." He traced the neckline of her dress, following it from shoulder to chest to shoulder.

"Do you have any morals? At all?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"Nope," he said with a small smile. She just stared at him, wondering how she got herself into this mess.

"Just one last time," he whispered huskily into her ear, "after all, you aren't married yet."

And before she could react, he was kissing her. Again. But this kiss was unlike the others. It was vigorous and demanding, making her want more.

Her thoughts screamed at her to get away, but her body mold itself against his. Yet, she still protested.

"I-I can't," she said unconvincingly.

"Sure ya can't," he mumbled against her lips.

She pulled away slightly, enough so that she could see his face, "What if Roderich catches us?"

"He won't. I'm too awesome."

And then quietly, so low she could hardly hear, so low she wasn't suppose to hear, he whispered, "I wish I was him," in a voice filled with longing.

And that was all she needed to give in. For once, it wasn't, "He wishes he was as awesome as me." It was, "I wish I was him."