Hetaverse. Oneshot. Includes an OC for the Federal State of Brandenburg (Friedrich Bergher). No pairings.

The man had arrived in Potsdam with a sour expression stretched across his pale face, his crimson-tinted eyes fixed stubbornly upon the individual waiting for him on the platform.

"You know, you could've driven," were the first words spoken between the old friends as they shook hands firmly. "It's not so far from Berlin."

Gilbert Beilschmidt, formerly Prussia, shrugged and held out a suitcase to his companion. "West's the only one with a car these days, and he wasn't gonna lend it to me for this."

"I guess you're right." Friedrich Bergher, currently the Federal State of Brandenburg, accepted the luggage with a tired grin. "How is our little brother, anyway? I haven't seen him since our last meeting in Hamburg…"

"He's fine, the same little hard ass as always."

Sensing the sharpness of the other's reply, the state let the conversation die peacefully in favor of leading Gilbert out to his car.

To be quite honest, the former military power looked ill, his naturally pasty complexion taking on a grayish hue that darkened beneath bloodshot eyes to form weary shadows. Everything from his disheveled white-blond hair to his carelessly sagging clothing seemed to be signing with absolute exhaustion. Even his gait was exaggeratedly slow.

"You look like hell, Beilschmidt," Friedrich said finally, closing the driver's side door behind him. Quickly rubbing his semi-frozen hands together for warmth, he dug his keys from the pocket of his winter coat and set the car into gear.

Gilbert didn't respond to the jibe, instead occupying himself by carefully adjusting the air vents to allow the heat to blast violently against his stiff fingers.

"Everything alright in Berlin?" he prompted, not taking his storm-blue gaze from the potentially icy street. "We're not facing another peasant uprising, are we?"

"I wish." Rolling his eyes, the would-be Prussian grumbled, "It's boring as hell and all West does is bitch."

"Well, he learned from the best."

"Shut up, Bergher."

Friedrich smirked, relieved to hear Gilbert sounding like his usual, less-troubled self. "So everything's going well?"

"More or less." He shrugged, setting slush-logged boots against the dashboard. Opening his mouth to add what was probably a harsh attempt at crude humor, the albino did something strange – he sneezed.

This action wasn't completely unheard of, but it was the manner in which it was conducted that threw Friedrich for a loop. It wasn't an ordinary, speck-of-dust-up-the-nose sort of sneeze, rather it was an I'm-definitely-under-the-weather type that sent an unattractive glob of phlegm hurtling forward to stick to the windshield. Burying his face in his hands, Gilbert sneezed again, then once more before straightening up with a groan.

"I thought you said things in Berlin were going well," the state snorted, somewhat miffed at his friend's dishonesty. "It's not like I wouldn't have found out eventually."

"But it is." He rubbed at watering eyes before turning to glare at the other German.

And, provided what he said was true, that was exactly why it was so odd that Gilbert had sneezed. Every state, nation, territory, and principality knew that their ails were directly tied to the misfortunes of their citizens, economy, or government. However, here was a former kingdom insisting that he had a cold for no obvious reason.

"That's a metric ton of horse shit." Dropping his usual, diplomatic air, Friedrich glanced at his passenger from the corner of his eye. "We don't just 'get sick' for no reason."

"Maybe you don't," Gilbert snapped, his scowl dissolving in favor of another violent sneeze.

The other male caught the unspoken reference to his friend's non-existence and heaved a low sigh. "What's wrong?"

"What'dya mean 'what's wrong?' I told you, I'm totally awesome right now."

"We were married, Gilbert. I can tell when you're lying – you're mostly bad at it, anyway."

Half wincing, half laughing at the memory, the albino stared up at the ceiling of the vehicle. "I've got a cold."

"I figured that one out already."

"I don't heal as quickly as I used to, either." He held up a bandaged finger for the driver to see. "I cut myself two days ago while I was chopping potatoes and it's just now starting to close up."

I'm not like you anymore, Gilbert seemed to be whispering, collapsing in on himself. I'm losing my hold on our world and falling into a mundane, human existence… a mortal existence.

Tightening his lips as he sorted through all the different speech options available to him, Friedrich finally settled upon, "In that case, be careful. I don't want to get a call from Ludwig saying that you've been… flattened by train or something like that."

"I wouldn't… I'd live." He dropped his gaze to peer at the sandy blond state looking sullen and frustrated. "It's not like it would too much for me to handle or anything."

"There's nothing Prussia can't handle." A fond grin slid across Friedrich's thin lips as he playfully slugged the other's shoulder. "I learned that one a long time ago."