My second annual Prussian birthday one-shot! Happy birthday to the amazing, delightfully awesome narcissistic albino known as Prussia!

So as usual, no accents for the different countries because I suck at them.


Of Pancakes and Unexpectedly Early Mornings

"Bring me the maple syrup, will you?" Matthew called from across the kitchen. Gilbird chirped indignantly. Matthew glanced at his friend's tiny yellow bird and shook his head. "Right, sorry. Kuma, can you get it please?" He asked politely. The little white bear merely murmured a lazy "Who?" before turning on his side. Matthew sighed, making the journey across Ludwig's expansive kitchen to get the gallon bottle himself.

"What the holy hölle are you doing in mein kitchen at three in the morning?" An exhausted Gilbert shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Gilbird flew over to him and settled in his tousled white bedhead. Gilbert stroked him with a gentle finger as Matthew tucked the bottle under his arm and opened up a bag of chocolate chips, pouring a generous amount into his bowl.

"Making pancakes, obviously. Happy birthday, by the way." Matthew stirred in the chocolate chips.

"At three o'clock in the morning?!"

"Yes. I'm making quite a lot of them, you see. And I take it you would enjoy sausage and bacon as well?"

"It would be appreciated, but exactly how much are you making?"

"A lot... but it's it's okay, this is my last batch."

"And uh... how many batches have you made?"

"Sixty. This is my twentieth batch of chocolate chip pancakes; I also made twenty batches of blueberry pancakes and twenty batches of normal pancakes." Matthew said casually with a wide smile.

"That's like, seven hundred pancakes!" Gilbert exclaimed incredulously.

"Seven hundred and twenty, to be exact."

"How long have you been here?!"

"Since about 6:30 last night. I brought both of my griddles from home to speed this up and it took about five minutes to make my first round of batter, but I'm just about done and with- oh no, only fifteen minutes!" The bespectacled Canadian looked at his watch and a panicked expression came over him.

"Until what? And how the hell did Ludwig not notice you? Scratch that, how did I not see you when I came home from bar hopping last night?" Gilbert cried.

Matthew ignored him in favor of frantically bustling around the kitchen, heaving his dirty dishes into the sink and grabbing a few frying pans. "Wash those for me, will you?"

"Hölle no, I'm not your slave!" Matthew gave him a raised eyebrow look. Gilbert resisted for another three seconds before heaving an over-dramatic sigh of defeat and dragging his feet to the sink. "Oresama does not deserve to be treated like a measly peasant." He whined as he grabbed the sponge. "I hate you Matthew, soooo much."

"Nah, you love me."

"I hate pancakes."

"No you don't you big fat liar."

"I hate Canadians."

"Hey! Those are my people!" Matthew protested, suddenly defensive.

"Mein people are way awesomer."

"You don't have people anymore." He retorted harshly.

"Ouch. Yeah, I know. Thanks for that, stupid arschloch." Gilbert abandoned the barely touched dishes and stormed out of the room. Matthew stared after him before turning off the stove.

"Dammit. Gil, I'm sorry!" Matthew called, following him. Knowing exactly where he was, Matthew ran down the stairs into the basement that Gilbert had remodeled into his own personal lair. Gilbert was slouched in a beanbag chair, staring studiously at the poster-plastered wall with his jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, Gil." He repeated.

The albino remained silent for a moment before turning to face him. "It's fine. I apologize too, for insulting your people."

"But you were joking. I took it too seriously."

"Seriously, you're fine, so stop apologizing alright Birdie?" Gilbert gave him a little smirk, even employing his special nickname so Matthew knew he was sincere.

"Yeah." Matthew grabbed Gilbert's hand and pulled him to his feet, tugging him back to the kitchen. "Now wash those dishes so I can cook these sausages." As he spoke he tossed a few sausages in one frying pan and unloaded half a package of bacon into another, cranking the heat up high to cook them extra fast.

"Careful you don't burn that sausage." Gilbert warned.

"Don't tell me how to cook, Mr. Take-Out For Every Meal." Matthew teased.

"Shut up, I'm not Alfred." Gilbert stuck out his tongue and started to dry the dishes. As he set the last bowl in its place, He watched as Matthew flipped the bacon, waited a few seconds, and then transferred it over to a plate, spreading the rest of the bacon in the pan.

"Gil, I'm gonna need more. Toss me the other package over there?"

"Sure thing Birdie. Whatever for though?" Gilbert muttered. This was getting frustrating.


Approximately seven minutes later, all of the cooking was done and arranged pleasantly on fancy platters. Matthew had gone above and beyond to decorate the kitchen, even plugging in an iHome speaker for his iPod. Gilbert sincerely hoped he was joking, because that speaker was exceptionally loud and not only was Ludwig sleeping in his bedroom upstairs, it was 3:48 AM. He really didn't want to have to deal with his angry little bruder if Matthew was serious.

The doorbell rang out its melodious tune, drawing his attention to the door. He strode quickly over and opened it before they could ring again, in fear of waking Ludwig, and he was met by 30 or so of his fellow nations, beaming at him with a colorful banner reading 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY GILBERT!' in neon bubble letters. In the next split second, they all chorused this as loudly as they possibly could.

Gilbert winced and shushed them. "Verdammt, what do you think you're doing? Ludwig is sleeping! Not to mention that it's barely four in the morning!" He really stressed that last part.

"But Mattie said that-" Alfred piped up, his smile fading slowly.

"Mein gott, Birdie what the hell?! I appreciate this but it's way too early." Gilbert snapped. Matthew grinned sheepishly.

"Jeez Gil, when did you get such a stick up the ass?" Mathias muttered.

"When Ludwig chewed me out last night for staying out too late. He has not been sleeping well lately and he takes it out on me! You all might think it's funny for me to be afraid of mein little bruder but you've never seen him that angry!"

"I have," Feliciano said sadly, "he's scary."

"Danke, for understanding. Come in, but please don't make a ruckus." Gilbert sighed, letting the crowd flood in and fill the kitchen. Matthew and Alfred taped the banner on the wall above the cabinets. Everyone else helped themselves to the buffet that Matthew has set up, seven hundred and twenty pancakes divided into many, many towering stacks. Delicious aromas wafted through the air from a platter filled with gourmet German sausage and a platter full of perfectly cooked bacon. Three gallon jugs of pure authentic Canadian maple syrup sat ready for use. Party-rock music played from the speaker, set at an appropriate volume by Gilbert.

And eventually, despite his previous worries, Gilbert found himself having a good time. It was his birthday, he had some pretty awesome friends, and this was an awesome party. All was going along quite swimmingly- at least, until the American screamed. An avalanche of pancakes cascaded from their place on the counter top; one of Matthew's carefully assembled pancake towers had been bumped by said American and now pancake hell was breaking loose.

"HOLY SCHEIßE!" Gilbert shrieked. "Verdammt, Alfred!"

"I'm sorry!" Alfred wailed. To everyone's horror, the racket had woken up the sleep-deprived Ludwig and now he came storming down the stairs.

"WHAT THE HOLLE WAS THAT- Why is there a party occurring in my house at 4:30 in the morning, and why are there pancakes all over the floor?" Ludwig started off shouting, but when he saw what was going on, he adopted a perfectly deadpan expression.

"Kesese..." Gilbert chuckled nervously. "Well, I would just like to establish that none of this was my fault."


After explaining the situation to the extremely grumpy Ludwig, the two neat-freak Germans cleaned up the pancakes and the party migrated to Gilbert's lair/man-cave in the basement. After all, that's where the bar was. Alfred had been assigned the role of barmaid by Matthew, as compensation for ruining the pancake tower. (Gilbert wasn't sure why he was so upset; he had plenty more towers and besides, when he was cleaning he only counted like eighty spilled pancakes.)

Gilbert, Matthew, Francis, Allistor, and Arthur all sat around a table, drinking their various alcoholic beverages and chatting casually.

"Didn't you say earlier that you went bar hopping last night?" Matthew recalled as he sipped his wine.

"Oui, it was very fun. There were many beautiful women~" Francis purred.

"That's great papa, but Gil aren't you hungover?"

"Of course not, I'm not Arthur! I can hold my liquor." Gilbert scoffed, reaching for another beer.

"Hey!" The drunken Englishman protested.

"Don't mind my wee brother, he's totally smashed!" Allistor laughed obnoxiously, slapping a hand on Arthur's shoulder so hard the blond stumbled.

"Oh Arthur, you are truly hopeless. It's only five o'clock..." Francis shook his head. Gilbert laughed as the hothead turned red and sputtered for a retort. He looked over to the corner where his bruder sat with Feliciano and Kiku, beer in hand. He watched in amusement as Italy tried to take Japan's wine and replace it with juice again, as his own wine sloshed merrily in his glass.

He looked back at Matthew, who was watching Francis and Arthur tussle on the floor with an expression of great exasperation. "Some things never change." He remarked.

"I'm glad. It would be too weird if those two ever stopped fighting." Allistor snickered. "Been going at it since they were kids." Downing the rest of his drink, he abandoned the bottle on the table and sauntered away.

Gilbert chewed his lip contemplatively, his eyes wandering to where Elizaveta was goading Roderich into taking more and more shots. He'd been trapped in a love-hate relationship with those two for as long as he could remember... It probably was about time they stopped. The thought made a wry smile come to his lips. For nations, peaceful days like this were extremely rare. Celebrating something as silly and insignificant as a birthday was something that few countries did. Usually they just came and went like every other day. He was yet another year older, but he didn't feel any different. Keeping track of their age was a nuisance for immortal beings like them. Time went by just too quickly.

So for a party like this to be thrown for his birthday was odd. He never really cared about his birthday before; he stopped when he was a child, and he was fairly certain that a majority of the others felt that way too. So why? Gilbert spun on his stool, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. "So Matthew, why did you really set up this party?"

"To celebrate your birthday, of course!" Matthew said in confusion.

"Okay, then the other reason." He pried. There had to have been another reason. Matthew fidgeted, retreating back into his turtle shell. Gilbert sighed and leaned forward. "Come on Birdie."

"I'm sick of everyone fighting. I was hoping that if I got everyone together and having fun for once then maybe we could get along better." Matthew admitted, cheeks burning.

Gilbert laughed. The irony! That same thought had passed through his head just seconds ago! "Birdie, don't be embarrassed! We all wish that, it's just that we're all too stubborn to change our ways. We've been fighting since we were born, it's who we are." Matthew looked downcast, and Gilbert patted his shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I completely agree with you. In fact, I think we should try it. And let me tell you, Birdie." Gilbert gave him a sidelong glance, a smile toying with the corners of his lips. "If this plan of yours works then this may very well be the most awesome birthday party in the history of the world."


So whether his plan worked or not I suppose is up to you. And if anyone is wondering about the excess of pancakes, everyone will be sent home with a doggie bag full of pancakes, and Gil and Luddy will be left with a freezer stock-full of leftover pancakes.

Canada and Prussia would have a lovely bromance. I feel like around Gil, Mattie would come out of his shell and act more like his bro, and Gil would be less of a self-absorbed ass. Sure they fight, but they make up just as quickly and I love those adorable dorks ^3^ Sorry for any OOCness

And again I offer apologies for being so inactive but I became preoccupied with being a lazy butt. However, I can honestly promise new stories to come (Hetalia, The Devil Is A Part-Timer!, Blue Exorcist, Attack On Titan, etc) and updates to the stories that I already have and seriously need to work on. Ooh and I have decided to rewrite the few chapters I have of Exceeding Expectations before updating because 1) WAAAY too many characters, and 2) I think it sucks. I may or not be removing pairings from it, and I may or may not just delete the whole story and write a whole new one. But this is up to you guys, so I'll put up a poll and let me know!

Over and out, epicfrenchfry~