Prussia stands as casually as possible by the ajar door. He looks totally out of place, leaning against the wall with the giant smile across his face. Bright red eyes glance out the door to the starry night sky. "Tell me, what dance do the tangerines do at midnight?" he casually asks in a whisper. He hears a small chuckle from the man outside. Sunglasses obscure his face, and his body is covered in black. "They dance the dance of the King Orange," the man's quiet voice is even more so than normal.
The albino has to admit, he's glad the other is willing to play along with this game. Especially to this degree. "Do you have the stuff?" he asks. "Depends if you got the money," the other calmly states. A small stack of Euros appears in the crack. It is taken by the small hand of the man. "Where is it?" Prussia extends his hand and eagerly waits for his prize. "You didn't get it from me," the man presses a bottle of maple syrup into the Prussian's open palm. "You never saw me. I was never here," the Canadian continues. "I know. I don't know you. Can we continue?" Prussia eyes the bottle longingly.
Footsteps echo as Canada starts to walk away. The Prussian looks from the bottle to outside the door. The nation doesn't stop to look back. Moonlight bounces of his blond hair and Kumajiro, making them appear to shine in the darkness. Prussia opens the door all the way. The sight has always left him breathless. Canada looks almost like an angel. "Mattie," Prussia calls out. The nation turns around, lavender eyes sparkling in the moon's light. "You still need to make me some pancakes," the former nation comments with a smile. The Canadian smiles back. "I thought you forgot about that," he states as he starts his way back. "How could I forget?" the albino laughs. He would never forget. This has to be one of his favorite things in the world.
The aroma of pancakes fill the kitchen. Prussia eagerly breathes down Canada's neck. He simply cannot wait to eat. "Do you have to stand so close?" the younger man questions. "Yes," the former nation answers. The other doesn't say anything else on the matter.
Prussia normally doesn't find his liking for cute things to be a weakness. Even the manliest man has a soft spot. But Canada is different. He is the Prussian's weakness. He makes Prussia feel completely unlike himself. Right now, as he watches the Canadian cook, he has to retrain himself. All he wants to do is wrap his arms around the other's waist, hold him close, and never let go. He wants to be suffocated by the aroma of maple, snow, and polar bear that radiates off the nation. To feel his lips pressed against the other's. He wants to explore every inch of Canada and for Canada to explore him. Prussia wants Canada to love him like he loves him.
"They're done," Canada's voice pulls him from his thoughts. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's eat!" Prussia happily declares. The Canadian chuckles. "You're going to wake up Germany if you're too loud," he says. Prussia looks at him, and the smile that plays across his lips. "We don't need to have him storm down here," he agrees. The nation places two plates of pancakes on the table. "He told me to stop giving you syrup. He said you're pretty addicted to it," he mentions. "I do like it. It's almost as awesome as me," the Prussian comments.
Canada takes a seat. "When you're done basking in your pride, you can come and eat," he states. The albino walks over and sits down. He picks up the maple syrup. "I guess I should thank you for still supplying me, and putting up with the ways I've asked you to," he says, pouring the substance on his stack. I don't mind. I think it's nice to have someone appreciate it. And I think it's kind of fun coming up with all these ways," the Canadian lightly takes the bottle from his hand, "my favorite has to be when I lowered it to your room from the roof." There is a pause as he digs in his pocket and places the Euros on the table. "I don't want to take it," he adds.
They start eating, and Kumajiro wanders over. Prussia watches, amused, as Canada denies his beloved pet more than his fair share of the fluffy food. The polar bears realizes that, for once, his master isn't going to give in. He crawls onto the Canadian's lap and curls up to sleep. Prussia vaguely wonders where Gilbird has wandered off to.
When they finish, Prussia stands to take their plates to the sink. He notices some stray syrup on Canada's cheek. "You got a little something on your face," he tells him. "Really? Where?" he grabs a napkin. The albino puts the plates on the table. The Canadian looks from the plates to the Prussian. He can't help himself. He lightly lifts Canada's chin up and licks the syrup off his face. The two lock eyes. "Here." The younger nation's face is turning red. "Gil-" The "-bert" part is lost forever as Prussia takes Canada's lips in his own.