A/N - So I've just decided to contribute to the Ask-the-pairing-fanservice. There may be some out there for PruCan, but I haven't seen any (and if there are, hopefully mine won't hit too close to home with similar content or something anyone'll accuse me of stealing).
Disclaimer
- Hetalia ist nicht meins (Axis Powers oder World Series). Schade.
Rules/Guidelines
- I don't have limits put up or in mind at the moment. Go crazy with the questions (Ratings K-M). The only thing I'll ask is that the questionnaire is at least predominantly PruCan-centric. Otherwise, have fun!


A disheveled Matthew sighed, finally setting the fresh restock of paperwork on his desk, arms maneuvering upward above his head as he balances his cellphone between his cheek and shoulder, a satisfying pop resounding throughout the otherwise empty expanse of the office.

"Yes, Al, I am serious."

Alfred's on the other line (and has been for at least fifteen minutes now), laughing all the while at something so-

"How is this a laughing matter to you? I'm being put out in the open, in public. All my personal business. My life. Everything."
Matthew - in the midst of his brother's hoarse response - reluctantly glances at his computer on his desk: Off, and not on, but for once the most intimidating inanimate device he's ever been obligated to spend so much time in a room with.

"Dude, this is just too funny."

"It really isn't though."

"How much more interesting can you get though, bro?"

Always so charming. And when he visits; just fun.

"Gee, thanks."

That chair looks awfully comfortable right about now. Better than standing . . .

". . . could be good for you is all I'm sayin', dude. Just try-"

"Ugh, sorry, I dropped the phone. What were you saying?"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm exhausted. I just really had to sit down. Just . . . start over?"

"I think you should give it a shot. You'll never get a chance like this again."

"You still haven't explained to me how that's a good thing, Al."

Good God is his skin ever oily today. This is the most picking he's done at these random blemishes in a week than all month. The one on his nose has been burning since this morning, and probably swollen. Hm.

"I'm being asked to speak to the public. And not just that either. It's a mass questionnaire."

"I don't see what the problem is."

He scoffs, massaging fingertips ripping from his scalp (that was also dry a lot of the time now).

"You wouldn't. I just . . . I don't know . . . I guess I just feel it's ironic, y'know. Suddenly it's mandatory I do this international fanservice for billions of strangers out of nowhere. I've never complained about being ignored or being accused of being other people - or at least I've tried not to - but I still think it's a little ridiculous I've adapted to all of it, just for people to turn around too late and then wanna get to know me . . ."

". . . Dude . . . ugh, how'm I even suppose to respond to somethin' like that? Did she give you a reason why she thought it'd be a good idea at least?"

"Nationalism? . . . I'm just gonna have to decline. Respectfully. That's just i-"

"Just take a chance, Mattie. What's the worst that could-"

"Hang on, that's Gil calling me," he blinks.

"Call me back then."

"Yeah, ok."


This really is not a good idea. But I can't say I wasn't expecting it. Gil's plane is landing today anyway. For a few seconds, I just let my phone ring; the picture I'd taken of Gil just before he and Ludwig's play against Feli, Lovino and Romeo* in Warsaw showing up on top of the equally just as wacky and typical contact name (obviously 'Awesome').

I just barely notice I'm smiling, because the picture truly is ridiculous; with Gil baring his teeth doing some poor imitation of some kind of snarl with his fist stuck out closest to the camera in some one-sided bro-fist gesture. (At least that's what he and Al call it. I still haven't figured out why they bug Berwald about it as much as they do). The cream of the crop though is what's most disturbing about the whole image: Gil had just barely managed to stuff half a soccer ball under his jersey, giving him some bloated appearance around his stomach. I thought that was funny.

It's enough at least to get me to answer at least.

"Birdie?"

"Hey, you."

"Hey. Miss me?"

"Obviously." I really have.

We talk for a bit - or, really I just let Gil do most of the talking about this and that while he's been gone (which really just means I've always been good at procrastinating).

"But vhat's been going on vith you?"

I've always been good at procrastinating. Really good.

"Birdie? You there?"

"G-Gil . . ."

"Ja?"

"The . . . Queen wants us to do a . . . an uhm . . . international m-mass questionnaire. Starting tomorrow. As . . . a-as a couple."

Al lies a lot better than me though.


A/N- I'd no idea writing in first-person was so easy xD Well anyway, finished. Bring on the questions. They can be for Mattie, Gil or myself. I don't mind. S'Up to you.

*/I've heard this is one of Seborga's (one of the three Vargas brothers) OC names. I've also heard Roman is a possibility.

~Mach's gut! Tschüß! :D