"Thank you for the Christmas dinner, Miss Hungary!" Feliciano smiled up at Elizaveta. This was echoed politely by Ludwig and Roderich, and grudgingly by Gilbert. They were standing at the front door of the house, preparing to leave after the dinner party.
"It was very yummy, although next year you should have pasta. Alfredo would be nice, or some cannelloni. Oh! Ricotta and spinach make very good fillinggggggggg! "His passionate outburst was muted by the tall blonde, who was subtly nudging him out the door while tipping his hat to Elizaveta in farewell and embarrassed apology. The door shut behind the pair, and the three remaining stared at the closed door, stunned into silence. Gilbert recovered first.
"Well, Bruder probably has to do that a lot. It's been a great time, folks. How can it not, with the awesome me? Oh yeah, up yours, Roddy. I gotta go home too though. Don't be too sad; you'll see me real soon. Hahahaha! Eliza you love my present, admit it now. I'm too sexy for you to handle!"
That egoistic diatribe shook Elizaveta out of her daze. "Excuse me? EXCUSE ME? You think I'd like a pin-up poster of you signed "YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME 3 GIL"? That is disgusting! I'd much rather have one of Master Roderich, thank you very much!"
"….although it was pretty sexy, I'd have to admit."She muttered under her breath. Roderich heard her but refrained from commenting, choosing instead to be a spectator in this rapidly unfolding drama. Gilbert, on the other hand, chose to continue the argument, waving Elizaveta's present to him in her face.
"How about your present to me then? A ruler? And signed "You are not 5 metres!" What kind of a crap present is that? Your ruler is too short for my awesomeness! I am too 5 metres! "He announced, hands on his hips in a victory stance, "And I can show you right now," he cried, taking off his belt before reaching to unbutton his pants. Having decided that her irritation at his annoying voice and actions overran her yaoi fangirl fetish desires to see him (and Roderich) naked, she promptly opened the door and kicked him out of the house.
"He'll grow up someday. But are you going to wait that long for him? "Elizaveta started. She had forgotten about Roderich in her heated argument with Gilbert. She sunk down into the couch opposite him, head in her hands. She didn't know. She didn't even know if it was him she was after.
"There exists a relationship between the two of you that, however explosive and…violent, creates a close bond that you and I could never achieve, regardless of the time length of our previous union. I had my suspicions, and they were confirmed when you made that request on our wedding day. I trust you still have it then? Good. In any case, I apologise for the actions of our superiors. As per my other previous unions, one can tell that while Austria is very adept at forming unions, we are not as competent in sustaining them. I also apologise for my own actions. I must admit I did not know how to handle both you and young Feliciano then. But know this: it was never my intention to hold you back had I known before the wedding. And having said all that, I wish you both the best of luck."
Elizaveta engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, tears streaming down her face. Roderich did not know how to react; this was their first physical contact. In the end, he just patted her awkwardly on the back. She sniffled and drew back. "Thank you, Master Roderich. And I'm sorry." She whispered.
He smiled. "Just call me Roderich. Even if we are officially divorced, I presume a friendship is still viable?" She nodded, drying her eyes. He kissed her hand gracefully, and took his leave.
Elizaveta sank back down into the couch, her mind reeling from all the events that had taken place – meeting Roderich after a long absence, just before they were to be wed. She had been enamored with him, much to the disgust of Gilbert. When they were officially married, she had foolishly believed her dreams were coming true. It didn't take long for her to feel that something was missing. Someone was missing, even if she didn't realize it then.
Then, she remembered young Gilbert and her pushing poor Roderich into the mud; the war they fought together against the Cumans at Burzenland; the big tree in the field where she met Gilbert….and where she woke up to find a geranium in her hair and a tingling sensation on her forehead.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and a blissful darkness engulfed her, freeing her from her troubled thoughts.
...
The knock on the door was loud, noisy, and annoying – exactly like the person who was currently doing the knocking. Elizaveta opened her eyes blearily and groaned inwardly. Did she fall asleep after Mas…Roderich left? How long did she sleep? Questions ran through her mind as her brain attempted to snap out of the sleep-induced stupor, before settling on one nagging question.
"Oh, what does he want now?"
She would have loved to ignore his thumping on the door, and returned to bed; unfortunately, she knew Gilbert was nothing if not frustratingly stubborn. It was this knowledge that got her up, grumbling all the way to the door.
She threw open the door and growled, "What do you want now, Gilbert?"
The long silence that followed should have surprised her, but Elizaveta was too bothered to notice. She also failed to notice that he held her gaze for a second, before looking down at the ground, hands behind his back and face flushed in embarrassment.
"…here." He muttered, shoving a geranium at her. He was still looking at the ground, but if possible, his face grew even redder. Elizaveta gaped at him; this was so uncharacteristically Gilbert that she didn't know how to react.
A geranium, she thought, unconsciously reaching up to the red flower in her hair. Then…could this have been from him too, all those years ago?
He was still holding the geranium out to her, his other hand moving to rub the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she recognized and remembered.
"Erm, err…m-merry C-C-Christmas, E-Eliza." He stuttered, a first for the self-assured egoist. She was still stunned, but her hand moved to take the flower from him. As she lifted it out of his hand, their hands brushed, sending sparks to the rest of her body – sparks that she had, for a long time, hoped to feel from her marriage to Roderich instead of the silver-haired man standing in front of her. The electric feeling snapped her out of her daze, and her eyes slowly narrowed until she was glaring at him with the full force of her anger. He flinched.
Her free hand moved up to slap his cheek.
Hard.
"Oww! What the hell was that for! Why'd you hit me when I'm trying to do something nice?"
"Precisely!" She hit him with every word she screamed. "Why! Why do you always have to infuriate me so much with your stupid antics, then turn around and do something like this? You're making me so confused, how can I bring myself to hate you when you make me love you!"
She continued her tirade, trembling in…anger? Agony? Watching her, his face softened, and he leaned in closer.
"Eliza?"
She stopped her pacing and glared at him, her face sullen. "What?"
"…shut up." He closed the gap between them in a kiss, under the mistletoe Italy hung under the door earlier.
...
Time seemed to have come to a standstill as they locked lips, their bodies acknowledging what their minds had attempted to ignore for years – that they were drawn to each other in the inexplicable way love could. They remained in each other's arms, before he drew back to wipe the tears that she didn't know were running down her face. Stroking her soft curls, he used his foot to shut the front door behind them, then steered her toward the couch and sat her down.
He decided a drink was in order, perhaps some eggnog since it was the festive season and he didn't think she was one for beer. He moved around the kitchen like an expert, his hands moving to grab the mugs and eggnog. He chuckled softly – he knew where everything was, probably even better than Eliza herself. He had been here more times than he guessed she would have preferred, but he supposed it never crossed her mind that he was merely making up for lost time…all those years he stayed away while she was staying with Roderich.
A muffled sniffle shook him out of his musings. He carried both mugs out and thrust one into her hand. Eliza took it wordlessly, gripping it until her knuckles turned white, as if her life depended upon it. He gulped his down in one shot, mentally lamenting the lack of sufficient alcohol in the drink. He always handled awkward situations better when he was drunk.
Like this one, he supposed.
He moved to sit next to her, setting down both their mugs after coaxing her to let go of hers. Their positions reminded him of when they used to sit under the huge tree between their houses when they were young nations. He linked his fingers in hers, relishing the warmth and assurance both of them felt from the contact. He supposed it would have to do, to make up for all those years of loneliness he felt during the Austria-Hungary Union. He noted all the calluses on their fingers – they both had their share of battle scars. He had let her go all those years ago, to go to Roderich, because he knew the aristocrat could provide her with the security he never could. He was built for war.
And, he mused, so was she. She was a fearless queen leading her people into battle, a warrior after his own heart. How could he have not realized it then? He trailed kisses over his queen's hand absentmindedly, his mind still reeling from the fact that she was his now, forever and ever, and there were no more hurdles for them to overcome.
Eliza made a sound between a gasp and a moan. Both Roderich and Gilbert had kissed her hand, but the feelings the latter invoked from her with the same action were so much stronger. Turning his face towards hers and halting his lips' journey down her arm, she continued what they had been doing at the door earlier. But this kiss was different. That kiss had been soft, hesitant; this kiss was hard, dripping with desperation and a fervor that arose from years of suppressed emotions suddenly unleashed.
They didn't care that their first time was on the couch. When they both realized what they had been missing for so long, and with nothing left in their way, all that mattered was making up for lost time.
Gilbert decided that it was time to close the chapter of the Teutonic Knights and the Republic of Prussia, and continue an unfinished one as an ex-nation with Eliza; rather than remaining in limbo by bunking with his brother and Feliciano as an uninvited (but grudgingly welcomed) guest.
They had the rest of their lives ahead of them to spend together. He was never going to let her go again. With that thought in mind, he carried Eliza to the bedroom and switched to a slower, gentle pace that left them gasping just as much as their earlier escapade.
...
"You still wear the dress and the geranium in your hair," he ventured.
"You still have Gilbird and the rose in your hat," she countered.
"I meant to give you the new geranium, since the old one was looking a bit worn. But I guess we both got carried away with our antics, huh. Frans and Tonio helped me make the poster, found it terribly amusing, the both of them."
She snorted. "I should've guessed. You and Francis are a bad influence on poor Antonio. He's a nice guy who's unfortunately misled by bad company."
Her last sentence was delivered with a raised eyebrow at the man lying next to her. She sat up and got out of bed, ignoring first the disgruntled protests then the appreciative whistles at her bare behind. Rummaging through her drawer, she pulled out a silver cross – the sign of the Teutonic Knights. She tossed it to him and he caught it easily, inspecting it over and over again in disbelief.
"How did you get this? I thought I lost it."
"I knew you lost it, so I got Roderich to help me find it and give it to me. As a wedding present."
He raised an eyebrow at this revelation. "He didn't say anything? Just went ahead with the wedding?"
She sighed. "It was a decision made by our superiors. And I wanted to save my people."
He nodded. He understood. It was their duty after all, as nations. He pulled her into a reassuring hug, and they put their past behind them as they looked toward the future. It was this thought that pushed him to pull the geranium from her hair and replace it with the new one.
"I didn't know then, but a red geranium means comfort. It's time to have a new meaning, don't you think?" he said, smiling down at her. It was a true smile, not the lopsided mischievous smirk that was his trademark.
"So what does this one mean?"
He linked his fingers in hers, and kissed her again. "You'll find out tomorrow."
And she did – it came in the form of a small jewelry box on Boxing Day.
...
Boxing Day comes the day after Christmas, and is named so because that's when kids open their presents, or boxes. Hence, the jewelry box replacing the present. I'm sorry I'm such a fail!author OTZ