Do I own Hetalia? No. How about Moulin Rouge? Again, no.
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'Spectacular Spectacular! No words in the vernacular.' The corpulent man on the television announced. In all honesty, Gilbert was extremely bored with watching Moulin Rouge; however, he refrained from submitting to his usual querulous behavior. After all, this was his first date with Elizaveta, and he didn't feel like provoking her into smacking him over the head with a frying pan…again… Very few people knew about the young woman's aggressiveness, Gilbert just happened to know from experience that her innocuous countenance was only perfunctory. Still, the indolent Prussian was slowing losing patience with his date's movie choice.

"Geez, Lizzy, can we watch something else? I thought you said this movie was great!" He whined, unaware of the tangible tension that was starting to grow in the room. "It's not even half as awesome as me!"

"If you don't like it, then why don't you get up and turn it off?" Elizaveta asked, annoyance imperceptible on her face. She wasn't even sure what she saw in the platinum blond young man- no, immature boy. That's what described him. A narcissistic, immature, sedentary boy. He was the incarnation of Narcissus. She presumed that she was Echo then, or maybe one of the nymphs- in love with his beauty and affability. Nothing ever seemed to drag him down, neither when his younger brother outgrew him in height and strength nor each time Elizaveta smacked him with a frying pan. She felt a little guilty about seeing him cringe each time she headed towards the kitchen, yet some part of her felt that every one of those eight smacks had been felicitous.

"Because you wanna watch it." Gilbert slightly sulked. With no surprise, his inertia was actually due to his fear of the Hungarian's frying pan. However, he refused to comment about said fear, fearing that she would actually go and get it anyways. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, and unexpectedly found his date looking quite plaintive. "Veta?" He asked softly, praying to whatever higher power existed that she wouldn't cry. "What's wrong?" His eyebrows furrowed as he hugged the young woman, soothingly petting her hair with one hand. He kissed the top of her head, no longer worried about the frying pan's existence, but the sudden mood swing affecting his love.

She unwrapped the arm around her, and trudged to the television, the screen blanking as she hit a red button. All was silent in the house, Gilbert's head cocked in silent confusion (should he run in fear of a skull fracture, or hug her?) and Elizaveta's down in silent defeat and determination. Suddenly, she looked up, a smile on her face. "Let's go get ice cream." She suggested. She knew that Gilbert wasn't the romantic 'sing songs of love' type, preferring the rescuing of a princess. Maybe she had been subconsciously testing him to see if his feelings were sincere. In the end, it didn't matter. She was happy, he was happy; all was well. He jumped up to hug her, a hug that resulted in a kiss. A kiss that made her blush and him laugh at her adorable shyness. She smacked him, this time on his arm, and with only her hand.

It was an improvement, in her temper, his fear, them. Though there may come a time again where Elizaveta would pick up her weapon of choice, today was not that day. Or so Gilbert hoped.

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Hope you enjoyed this little ficlet! This was also for my english class, and I found great amusement in writing it. Flaming Bond and I were wondering if our teacher would say anything about how many times Lizzy's beaten Gilly with the frying pan. Sadly, there was no comment.
Anyways, thank you for reading, and please review!