A/N: Okay, so, the friend who helped me with 'Don't you dare leave me' is the dear friend who also sends me about seven mails daily on average (which I totally don't mind, no sarcasm, I swear on my grandfather's pot of ash in Sweden). Of those seven mails, about three contain either pretty pictures (internet copy paste) or pages from comics or manga's. Now, she sent me a special Christmas-page wherein there was an excessive use of mistletoe (you know exactly which mail I mean, Koneko-chan), and I had an idea. An idea I'm writing out right after I finish this little note. Forgive all the mistakes, I don't have a beta, I'm not English and I don't want to be late for Christmas...
Note about the story: Prussia and Canada are in a relationship. You can decide who tops (or tops from the bottom) if you prefer one always being on top.
Edit the first: So while I was writing this, I told my friend about how the small comic made me think of at least 8 other couples I could see doing this. She suggested PruCan. How in the...?
Matthew was incredibly comfy. The sheets were soft and downy, the bed felt almost like a cloud and there was warmth all along his back and around his middle. Of course, this wasn't the first time he woke up to that, but somehow it felt extra special today.
The warmth around his middle tightened a little. It wasn't unpleasant (far from it), but it did take him from comfy dream-world (filled with warm snow and a maple-like scent wafting from the soft warmth surrounding him) to comfy wakefulness.
When he opened his eyes, everything was hazy (which was understandable, as he did need his glasses) and covered in a soft orange glow from the setting sun (definitely setting: his room was in a corner of the house, so he has sunrise in one window and sunset in another). Perhaps that made his warm sleep – nap, apparently – so special?
He felt that ending this nap with a jaw-breaking yawn that left one feeling oddly accomplished was a good idea, so he did just that. This was answered with chuckles and another tightening of the warmth around his middle. The maple-scent from his dreams wafted up as warm arms loosened and calloused fingertips trailed up his back.
"Fröhliche Weinachten, Vögelchen," was murmured around the soft kisses trailing his shoulders.
So that's the special feeling. It wasn't the first Christmas he'd spend with his Prussian love, but sometimes these things just felt like they did the first time.
"Merry Christmas, love" he answered, turning around and nuzzling the white neck of his lover. He felt more than saw the chuckles rumbling in Gilbert's chest and throat.
"Come on, Birdie, don't fall asleep again now. The awesome me is way more interesting than your dreams, and I have something for you."
Well that sounded interesting. "What if I dreamed of you?" he retorted as he looked up. Those red eyes, usually described as blood-coloured and wild, looked very much like a mix of the sweetest dark-red cherries they loved, apples red enough to give to Snow White and the roses they once got each other at the same time.
Matthew denied being a lyrical man, and he certainly didn't want to romanticize everything about his love, but with eyes like that one just couldn't stop giving them poetical descriptions.
"I am your dream. And even if you did have to dream of me, no way could a dream-Gilbert compete with the real awesome me!"
Well, Matt thought, with your eyes like roses and hair like snow and ice, you're close to telling the truth.
He didn't say it – of course he didn't, the man's ego was big enough as it was -, but Gilbert grinned like he did, nudging his head upwards to make Matthew look up.
Mistletoe. Close above their heads, held with pale fingers, was a small sprig of green and white. He grinned. "Nice to see you show a more subtle display of Christmas spirit, Gil." His lover grinned as he closed the distance between them, humming into the kiss. Though very warm and very pleasant, Matthew pushed against the other after a few moments. "Now get off, you. One sprig, one kiss."
...He did not like the grin on Gil's face. It was well-recognised, as it usually preceded an unholy amount of mischief of the Prussian man. "Why don't you look up, Birdie?"
It was with a small feeling of dread that Matthew did. And it grew very rapidly when his eyes met only green and white. "Maple!"
The man had the audacity to laugh! "Gilbert! How-? Just how many bundles did you tie up there?!"
"Hmm," the bane of his existence murmured, "something between three and four hundred."
Oh, if only he could reach his hockey-stick. He'd really like to hit that grin off his lover's face. "And you want me to kiss you for every little sprig? When the heck am I supposed to leave the bed, next week?"
"It'll be far into the next year if we don't start now. So why don't you stop being angry and kiss me already?" Pale lips covered his before he could answer.
Oh well. He'll get him back later on. He knows where the other's presents are, after all...