Genre: Humor, Prussia
Rating: T for safty and the fact that Prussia swears... a lot. No sexual themes. No worries kiddies.
Disclaimer: There will be NO PAIRINGS. Also, any of these one-shots that will appear here will be anything from Generalized to History-specific. There will be NO AU's and anything written here will be in the same universe. Unless stated otherwise. Nothing will be spoiled (if you can spoil history). Human and country names used.
Ownership:I do not own Gilbert and his vast awesomeness. Nor do I own Hetalia and it's vast awesomness, or any related stuff. No. Sad.
Summary:Prussia looks back on an old diary of his and re-visists the tale-old issue with him, meat-on-a-stick, and his brother.
A bit of a forward-note. I didn't get this too thoroughly corrected because this is GILBERT writing and he might make some mistakes here and there. Though my beta was awesome and she did some spelling and minor problems etc. etc. So that was great! Don't mind any mistakes. Blame Gilbert.
Also, this will switch between 3rd person and then 1st person. Gilbert's diary is obviously in 1st person and mostly in italics. M'kay?
THIS FANFICTION IS WRITTEN FOR MY BEST FRIEND.
Also - This particular diary is set in no specific time period. Thanks.
Meat on a Stick
Gilbert sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room. Forgoing the couch, he lazed idly in the middle of the floor, hunched over a very old and worn leather-bound book. It was much like many others that he owned, but each and every volume of the expansive collection had something unique and special about it. A certain awesomeness that Prussia wouldn't deny them as they each held their individual splendour.
Grinning to himself stupidly, he broke open the book and watched a plume of dust rise into the air.
Ignoring it, Gilbert fanned his hand then began to flick through the pages of the book, fanning through the devout daily-handwriting that his own hands had graced the pages of over one hundred years before.
Sometimes being a country was fantastic.
Glancing over his shoulder to be sure that there was no disapproving bruder to behold - he wasn't sure Ludwig would be too fond of one-hundred-or-so year-old dust invading his clean living room - and turned to the entry.
The year was worn out, but the date was well-enough to read:
February 14th
His writing was still the same, he noted with delight. Of course it was. He was that awesome.
'Dear most awesomest diary,
Today was a pretty awful day, I have to say. Not only do I have to deal with this unawesome snow that is still sticking around, but my bruder is acting like such a fucking pain in the ass it's incredible. Seriously, the nerve of that guy. He grows a few inches taller than me, and he thinks he knows every-fucking-thing. Gott. He's awful. He sometimes reminds me of Austria. Like he has a perpetual knot in his pants.'
Prussia sniggered at the entry, and noted how it just... ended there. He glanced down the page and saw he added to the entry, probably anywhere from a few minutes, to a few hours, later.
'Okay Diary, so I'm back again.
I told bruder that he needs to un-knot his pants and he just glowered at me. He thinks he's so scary with his 'menacing glare' but I know better! He forgets that I was the one that saw him as a snot-nosed little brat and it was I that took care of that little snot-nosed brat! So I told him that he needed to stop wearing ladies panties because they rode up his butt-crack and made him a dick.
He threw me outta his room.
Geeze, sensitive much? What an asshole.
And you know why I think he's being such a twist-in-the-pants? Because he was fucking complaining that my awesomest skills at making meat-on-a-stick was 'unsanitary' and I needed to stop doing it because I could 'make myself sick'. Bah! Who fucking cares about that shit?
One, I am mother-fucking Prussia. I am the owner of the most-awesomest five-metres, and my stupid little (note that, little) bruder can't tell me what to do.
Two, I used to make that shit all the time. Meat on a stick is not unsanitary, and it is not unawesome. It is MOST awesome. Most absolutely awesome. Definitely.
There is nothing wrong with shoving a stick into freshly-slaughtered meat and shoving it in a fire until it is deliciously cooked and awesome. Nothing at all. I fed that shit to him. That's why he's practically all-muscle, by the way. Because I was feeding him this awesome-food-of-gods and it made him into the freaking unfair Greek-god of physical fitness that he is.
Which is totally un-fucking fair, by the way. Just so you know.'
Gilbert paused in his reading and gave himself a short, self-approving, nod. Yes. It was completely unfair. Germany had somehow got impossibly bigger over the years, and was now a very large and hulking man. While it did suit the German, he did not approve of it! Not one bit! There wasn't day that went by where he disapproved of his brother's un-warranted body mass.
Why couldn't he had at least just been taller. He had gotten over that aspect of him well-enough.
... mostly.
Being taller than him by so many inches was a bit much.
He continued reading. It was again, later into that day, by the slight change of hand and ink.
'So I decided to make my signature dish of meat-on-a-stick for mein bruder to teach him a lesson about sheer awesomeness. I'm going to make it outside too. I don't give a royal fuck if it's snowing again, I decided to do this shit anyway. Unsanitary? I'll show that muscle-head. And when he realises the absolutely magical qualities of my fucking cooking, he will regret ever telling me to stop.
I told him too. I looked him in the face and told him that I was going outside to make meat on a stick, and told him that he was going to have to eat some. He just gave me that annoying look he gives me sometimes when he thinks I'm being 'unreasonable' to the point of 'stupidity'. Like he's sorta given up on me or some shit like that.
He told me that he wasn't going to eat anything that had been outside for more than 10 minutes and had passed my hands.
What a fucking asshole.
I'll show him.'
That was the end of the sat back and mused for a moment. He had no recollection of these events at all. Well... no recollection of those specific events. The trials of him and his bruder and the 'meat-on-a-stick' were still being challenged to that very day, so he really couldn't discern one instance of this dispute from another anymore.
He glanced over to the man sitting at the dining room table, just visible from his vantage from the floor of the living room.
"Oi!" he called, waving a hand. "Bruder!"
Germany sighed, and turned his head, glasses were perched on his nose as he was clearly in the middle of reading something. "Ja?"
"... Do you remember one-hundred-or-so years ago when I tried to make meat-on-a-stick and you refused for me to make it? In February?"
Ludwig gave him that same sort of blank look that Gilbert got from him time to time. After a few short seconds, he said, "Bruder, I can hardly remember the last ten-or-so times you decided to make it in the front lawn, let alone the numerous times you attempted to make it over one hundred years ago. Why?"
Prussia just gave him a lop-sided grin. "I just wanted to know! You know, research. I was reading one of my most-awesomest diaries, and I was reading on how you still seem to have girly panties wedged in your butt-crack about the whole issue."
Germany took this as a cue to be uninterested as it had no benefit, nor anything new to add to his life. He turned away and started back on his book. "Bruder, if you are still angry I stopped you from cooking that lamb shank in the front lawn, I am not going to apologise. It's -"
"-unsanitary. Yeah, yeah. I know I know."
Ludwig grunted and knowing that Prussia had nothing further to say, started reading again.
Prussia started on reading to the next entry, seeing as his brother wasn't being cooperative, as usual.
February 15th
'It's already pretty much night-time, dearest awesome diary, and I apologise for not gracing you with my most-awesomest earlier today. I'll just give you a run-down summary.
I woke up this morning deciding it was a very not-awesome day. One, it was blizzarding outside, and that is just not right. Two, I had a very unawesome stomach-ache that made me want to stay in bed more than the blizzard did. Not that I did anything that wasn't awesome like whine or complain, but I did let my brother know that my stomach was not being cooperative. I compared it to him, actually, so he understood exactly how fucking annoying it was being.
He didn't believe me! That bastard! There I was, laying in agony, possibly dying, and my stupid-ass bruder didn't believe that my stomach was trying to commit suicide. I could've died within the next ten-minutes and he'd think it was a ruse.
Bastard.
He did come back a few minutes later, though, to 'double check that I was telling the truth'. Just because I had maybe said that, 'If you were acting half as stubborn as my stomach concerning meat-on-a-stick, then I'd appreciate your big meaty-head company more often', doesn't mean I was faking it!
He said that he assumed that I was trying to 'make him feel guilty' or whatever the shit he meant. He also said that my comment about 'meat-on-a-stick' made him think and he asked me when I purchased said 'meat'.
To which I replied, 'I don't need to tell you, you are clearly not awesome enough to eat it, so why should I tell you my awesome sources.'
So you know, Diary, I purchased it a few days ago from a local butcher. It was the finest and most-tenderest meat you could get from the backside of a bovine. Thank-you-very-much.'
The ink changed drastically after this point, seeing as he must of added to entry later. Prussia decided to take a break. Huh... he got a stomach-ache? How unawesome of him. He didn't normally get sick or anything unawesome like that, so clearly it had to be some kind of event.
He glanced over at his bruder, who was deep into scribbling down notes of some sort in quick scrawled hand. Deciding better not to bother his brother when he was so deep in thought (sometimes he could get more testy if he caused him to jerk when writing), he went back to reading.
'That fucking bastard meat-head! He read my diary! After I put it down to take an awesome nap because my stomach is still being awful, he decided to read my diary! He told me that he knew that I'd put in where I bought the meat in it, and that it was for my own good.
He also had the fucking nerve to say, 'I didn't expect you to make it the last thing you wrote. You made it very easy for me to find out.'
What a dick-head. I guess he wanted to try meat-on-a-stick for himself and roast it over a fire in the lawn too! Bastard.'
Prussia pulled back the diary. "You dickhead Bruder!" he exclaimed, astounded and appalled that someone would read his diary without permission.
Germany jerked and turned his head, clearly not knowing what he had actually done for that accusation. "What is it, Preußen?"
"You... You... You read my diary! You bastard!"
"..." Germany had no idea what he was talking about.
Prussia waved the tome around - careful to keep his page, however - and gestured sharply, still aghast at the behaviour of his one-hundred-or-so years younger brother. "You read my fucking diary after I said I was going to tell you where I bought that awesome meat! You read it to find out! You cheating bastard!"
Ludwig stared at him. Still not entirely knowing what he was talking about, but now knowing it had nothing to do with a present issue, he just arched an eyebrow. "Is this in reference to what you asked me before? The incident over one-hundred years ago?"
"... Yeah!" Prussia said, indigently. "And you read my diary, you dickhead!"
"I still don't know exactly which incident that was," Germany said, already turning back to his work, "But it was for your own good." He said that with utter conviction.
Prussia spluttered. "For my ow-... For... How the fuck would you know if you don't even remember the incident in question!"
"Because I know what happens next regardless of knowing exactly when it happened."
"How the fuck can you even do that? You have no idea what exactly we're talking about!"
"I have lived with you."
Prussia harrumphed and turned away from his brother, not wanting to see him anymore. "Asshole."
"Mn."
Gilbert brooded for the next ten minutes about how terrible his brother was before he remembered his thumb was still on the page of the book. Grumbling still, he opened it again and started to read where he left off, a new addition to the last entry.
'My bruder claims I got food-poisoning from the meat or some shit like that. He said the meat wasn't kept cold enough and I have clearly gotten some sort of bacteria from eating it. I say that's a load of crap.
Now bruder is arguing with me telling me that it'd have been fine if I cooked the meat all the way through, but since I had eaten it fairly rare, I poisoned myself.
So what? I like my food to moo a little.
He says he wants to take me to the doctor.
I told him my stomach was fine.
He insisted for me to go to the doctor.
I told him to fuck off.
He told me, 'Fine, don't expect me to sympathise with you when you get too sick to go on your own conviction and I have to drag you there.'
He then told me to stop writing everything he says in the diary and reading it out after he says it. Dickhead.
He also says to stop calling him a dickhead.
Like hell m'not.'
Prussia was still having trouble remembering the memory, and he was feeling too full of pride to question his bruder on when it happened. He still couldn't recall any instance of him 'getting food poisoning' and having to go to the doctor. Maybe his bruder had been wrong after all.
He chanced a glance at Ludwig, decided he was still angry at him, and went to read the most reliable source anyway: his own diary.
His diaries were totally unbiased and showed the most-awesome part of everything.
The writing was quite sloppy now. There were thick smudges of ink that seemed to have been smeared by a sloppy palm, and a few fingerprints.
'Bruder. You suck. Stop being right about everything.'
He stared. That was it. That was the last of the entry after February the 15th. There was nothing else after that and when he flipped through the pages, it was only the next following days. There was no way he ended a day with conceding that his bruder was correct. No way!
Prussia shot Ludwig another very sour look and spoke haughtily, "I bet you're all smug right now! Huh? I bet you feel really proud."
Germany just grunted, clearly not wanting a part of whatever grudge Gilbert decided to take up that was over one-hundred years old. He just shook his head in declination to join in on his foolishness and continued to write.
Gilbert very adultly stuck out his tongue then turned back to his diary. There was no fucking way that his brother was right. No fucking way...
February 16th
'There is no fucking way that my brother was right.'
"Ha!" Gilbert exclaimed, pulling away from his book. "Ha! There! See!" He said proudly, prodding his finger into the page as if showing it to someone. "You were wrong after all!"
"That's nice."
"I knew that you weren't right."
Feeling smug that he had reigned supreme again, he continued to read with much more vigour.
'There absolutely can't be any way that my bruder is right! There was no way that he knew that the meat had possibly gone bad and there was no way that he knew that I could get unawesomely sick. Clearly, he was guessing, and because I awesomely-raised him, he had a moment of awesomeness (from me) where he made a wild guess and happened to come to a slightly realistic conclusion.
But he wasn't right. So there. Ha. See? I win.
For some reason Bruder isn't arguing with me as I tell him that he wasn't right at all, and when I explained my awesome reasoning behind all this... he just... I dunno, weirdly agreed.
Then he asked if I could stomach any bread before lumbering off to make something for me to eat.
...
... To be honest, dearest diary, I was expecting bruder to get all up-in-arms about me getting fucking sick and he'd be all 'Bruder, I told you so,' and 'I don't want you to eat meat-on-a-stick ever again,' and, 'Just who is the adult here, anyway?' or 'Bruder, for the thousandth time, no, you cannot eat meat-on-a-stick anymore' or, his current favourite, 'Who's raising who?'
But none of that happened! The world is ending! Mein Bruder didn't yell at me or nothing!
He's... he's...
... being NICE.
He just gave me some bread, and bless him... potatoes. You know, the ones I really like and claimed in the name of my awesomeness. My favourite kind! He told me that it was because I could stomach it after the episode with the 'food poisoning'.
... Gott these are fantastic potatoes.
My stomach is already feeling better! It's not feeling unawesome nor is it threatening to get rid of any of the delicious awesomeness that I took in! It's a miracle! See? As I've told you and your brethren before you thousands of times, potatoes and wurst are the foods of gods.
Soon the whole world will see that. I bet some day, that the wurst (or whatever it'll be called by other nations) will take over the world! Soon people will eat them at events and whatnot and everyone will know it as a daily food staple! Not just Germans and whatever! But other nations! I swear on it. It will happen. Oh yes.
And when it does, I'll be the king of all wurst.
Bruder tells me that it's sort of ridiculous, but he can understand and appreciate my reasoning. At least West has a good taste in food. Of which came from me I might add.
Okay... So... It's the end of the day now and I feel a million times better than this unawesome morning. The bread and potatoes really did their trick! I feel so much better! I feel like I could get on a horse and go and vanquish another town or city right this instant! I could take over another nation! Hell, I think tomorrow I'm going to go and attack France for the hell of it!
I feel that awesome.
And dear diary, please don't tell anyone.
AND IF ANYONE IS READING THIS RIGHT NOW THAT IS NOT MY AWESOME SELF, PLEASE STOP READING NOW OR I AM GOING TO RIP OFF YOUR NUTS AND FEED 'EM TO YOU.
... Is it just the awesome-me? Good.
Well. I have to say, and I won't say this often... But... ... Bruder was kinda-sorta-maybe right about the whole... 'meat-on-a-stick' business... ONLY THIS ONE TIME.
Maybe I kinda sorta fucked-up by not listening to him and attempting to cook a few-day-old meat outside during a potential blizzard in the front yard. MAYBE.
I will concede that he was MAYBE right.
And MAYBE I fucked up.
MAYBE.
And for this once, the awesome-me decided to forgive mein dearest Bruder, Ludwig, for any unawesomeness that he may have done. Only for this incident. Because, come on, all those other times were unreasonable and really, I'll never stop making this awesomeness. It's fucking delicious.
I just need to find that butcher and make sure he goes out of business, and slaughter a cow myself!
...That's a great idea! We got plenty of room in the yard, Bruder shouldn't mind it too much! I mean, maybe his issue is with the meat being left alone for too long and it not being
fresh. If I kill the cow myself...
... ALL ISSUES ARE SOLVED.
Gott. I am magically awesome. I am going to go out right now and buy a cow. God, I am so wonderfully smart sometimes, I make myself CRY.'
And that was it for the 16th. Prussia stared at the pages then a grin spread over his face. Of course! That's how it all worked out!
Shutting the diary with vigour, he stood, stretching his arms over his head, letting his shoulders give with small 'pops'.
Placing the diary on the side-table, Gilbert strode across the room and to where his brother was seated. All animosity was gone now, since, of course, he had read the diary. Sometimes he was willing to admit where had been at 'fault'. Sometimes.
So, with a brotherly hand, Gilbert put his hand on Ludwig's head and ruffled his hair out of its usual neatened place. "So! Ludwig! You're off the hook! Kesesese!"
"Augh! Preußen!" Germany reached up to swat away the hand and began to flatten out his hair again.
Removing his hand, and totally ignoring Ludwig's disgruntled nature at his head being attacked and his work disrupted, Gilbert started to turn, speaking airily. "I'm going out!"
"... Where are you going?" Ludwig took the time to ask carefully, pressing back a few loose locks of hair that kept flicking out of place.
"... To the butcher."
"Preßuen," Germany started, exasperated, "I already said that you ca-"
"Fear not mein faithful West!" Prussia assured. "I'm going to buy a live cow and slaughter it myself! I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. Well, I had, but that was ages ago! Clearly it is the most awesomest solution to our unawesome problem!"
Ludwig turned white. He very clearly remembered the last time Gilbert tried this endeavour, and only when he came-to out of his horrified memories and thoughts of the horrific mess that had been left behind... had he realised that his brother was already gone; the front-door half ajar.
Standing to his feet, abruptly he made a mad dash to get his shoes and coat, before following after him, the door slamming shut.
"PREUßEN!"
Author's Notes:This was way too much fun to write. Way too much fun. It really helped me to get back into the writing groove, and maybe I'll tack on another one-shot to this. For now, it stands alone!
Oh Prussia, you magical fantastic person you.
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW.
Please. His sir awesomeness demands it. KESESESE.