(Happy birthday, Canada! This turned out... more stereotypical than I intended but less so than a lot of other Mattie birthday fics, and I really can't bring myself to care. That might be because I've been reading and writing this for the past four or so hours, but you know.)

(Reviews? We like those. Seriously, what is this fic? You tell us. We wrote it, but we don't own the stuff. Sigh. Hope you enjoy it...!)

Gilbert Beilschmidt could not, for the life of him, fall asleep tonight. He'd tried, and tried, and tried...

And he'd been trying for a few hours now, with no luck at all. Everytime he closed his eyes, his mind refused to shut down, which is usually fine for a little while but not when it's after two in the morning and he still hadn't gotten a wink. He sighed and looked at his Canadian lover, snuggled close—the adorable boy had, by the way, gone off to dreamland only half an hour after they went to bed—and hoped that the proximity might help.

It didn't.

So of course, he was overjoyed when the next thing he heard was his obnoxious alarm blaring in his headphones at six AM, when he had no memory of ever falling asleep in the first place. Ugh, damn him for setting it so early. He quickly shut it off, kissed Mattie to keep him asleep, and stumbled out of bed for the kitchen.

He'd already decided—a bit after midnight—that he was going to make pancakes for his birdie's birthday. This was exactly the kind of plan that would come at midnight, because although the Canadian knew the recipe by heart (of course; he probably invented it), Gilbert didn't. He certainly didn't trust himself to just remember all the ratios—two cups of flour and four tablespoons of butter he was sure of. But how much milk? Or sugar? What did Mattie put in those pancakes, anyway? He cursed again. He may still know how to win a battle and play the flute flawlessly, but he didn't know how much sugar was in Mattie's pancakes. The recipe had to be around here somewhere…

Idly, he wondered how loud he could curse without his lover hearing him.

After checking the cabinets three times, the pantry and the bookshelf twice, and even the refrigerator once, he found the crumpled recipe stuffed behind the rest of the cookbooks in the kitchen. He'd already wasted quite a bit of time, but Mattie would probably sleep until he was woken—preferably at nine or ten, with a big pile of fluffy pancakes and and a cheerful albino boyfriend.

...Well, he'd act cheerful, anyway. His birdie always made him happy.

He set to work gathering the ingredients when he realised he didn't have everything he needed. Had Mattie known they were out of eggs? He sighed. Probably. Mattie knows all of sat stuff. Guess I'm going shopping. He'd planned to present his breakfast to Mattie wearing only the cute maple leaf boxers he'd slept in, but he guessed that plan was ruined. Maybe he could change back when he got back home. Reluctantly, he stepped away from all the ingredients on the counter before putting on some clothes and scribbling a quick note—

Birdie,

The hell are you doing up? Go back to bed and forget you saw anything! I'll be back soon anyway so no need to worry.

...Ich liebe Dich, Gil

As an afterthought he threw a towel over the stuff, so his lover might not see it if he came in, crossed off the part about forgetting and left for the store.

...And then he drove away from the store, and drove to the convenience store instead. Because apparently, the grocery didn't open until ten. Mein Gott, vhen am I going to get se hang of sis?!

He bought his eggs, along with some maple butter and a few other things that had been on sale for Canada Day, and drove home. A glance at the clock told him he was already pushing seven AM. So much for going back to bed with his birdie...

He threw the note away, hoping he wouldn't need it again. He took the towel off of the rest of the ingredients and started mixing dry stuff first... and when he got to the milk, butter and eggs he wished he had chosen a bigger bowl. He had to mix super carefully so that it wouldn't overflow. And damn, his arms hurt. He never wanted to mix anything, ever again. How the hell did Mattie do this?!

Finally, finally… everything looked good enough to start cooking.

He turned the stove to about four, after deciding not to try to find his apron. He already looked like a ghost from all the flour he'd spilled, why ruin the image? He giggled to himself before letting his mind wander to what it'd be like to have his lover lick the ingredients off him…

Which is how he burned his first pancake.

The second was because of Gilbird. After all, he was really hard to ignore when he was being cute! By the third pancake, the Prussian was pissed off enough to start paying attention, which seemed to make the pancakes take forever to cook but at least they looked better. He ate a few before he remembered they were mostly not for him.

Or, it's not that he forgot, really. He was just hungry.

When he finished up the last one, he turned off the stove—no, he was not going to pull an Arthur Kirkland here and burn down the kitchen on Birdie's birthday—and went to go check on his boyfriend. Luckily, the Canadian was still nicely snuggled in the sheets and blankets, which was sooo cute, but… he had more things to do, and damn if he was going to let Mattie distract him from his own morning.

Gilbert quietly shut the bedroom door and crept back into the kitchen. Breakfast? Check. They had plenty of butter and maple syrup, and the Prussian had even managed to dig out a tray to put it on for breakfast in bed. Bonus!

He hadn't gotten much in the presents department. The pancakes, the silly patriotic things he'd bought on his emergency trip to the store—but other than that the only thing he had was, well, kisses. Or, promises of kisses. Mattie loved kisses, and Ludwig was tired of lending his brother money, so in that way it was practically perfect gift. Besides, he'd already given his boyfriend his favourite present, a combination of their flags, last year, and… maybe he'd give him an iron cross when he proposed.

Which he planned to.

But not now.

He put his pancakes in the microwave, just for a little heat insulation, and got everything ready to make coffee. Mattie probably wouldn't want to wake up for… well, another hour or so, at least, but by 8:30 Gilbert was too anxious to wait anymore. He started his coffee, gave the pancakes a blast of heat and put everything on the tray for Mattie. Oh, and he also stripped down to his underwear. Wink, wink.

I hope sis goes se vay I planned…

—

He woke his lover with the smell of coffee.

Well, it could have been that. It also could have been the smell of pancakes, or warm syrup, or the sight and feeling of him trying not to spill as he wiggled back into bed. The Canadian sat up slowly, watched him and giggled.

"Gil!" Mattie exclaimed, a smile taking over his sleepy face. "What's this?"

"I made breakfast!" Gilbert said, beaming. He gave him the first of those kisses and pointed out all the different elements, telling his lover the story behind each one. Burning the pancakes, eating the pancakes—buying maple butter—debating about decaf coffee over not and eventually deciding that today was a caffeine day. After all, they had a lot to do~ He brought in all the stuff from the convenience store, including a ridiculous pair of maple leaf sunglasses, which… Mattie loved. He said he'd trick his brother into wearing them, somehow.

"Thank you, so much. But you know you're a mess, right?" the blond asked, offering him a bite of syrupy pancake and another kiss. Gilbert shrugged. "I learned from se best," he said noncommittally.

"Eh!"

"'Eh' yourself. You know you're pretty old now, ja? Almost vone hundred und fifty."

Mattie grinned. "That's a lot younger than you, old man."

"OI! Respect your elders!" the albino yelled, and in one fluid-ish movement he was out of bed and running down the hall. The Canadian grinned. Nothing like birthday tag, mm?

He put the mostly empty tray down on the bedside table and went to chase after his favourite person in the world. After all, who knew what it would end in?

"Get your Canadian-clad butt back here, Gilbert!"

"Nein! You'll have to catch me!" the Prussian taunted, and Mattie already knew that this birthday was gonna be a really great one.

(We know what it will end in. It'll end in sex ;) it always does.)

(In 2017, Canada as a nation will turn 150, since it was sorta freed/whatever from England in 1867. That is going to be a spectacular year, but in the meantime—let's feel sufficiently happy with 149. Happy birthday, Hufflepuffs of the world [not an insult, I swear to gods]!