A/N: I've been meaning to write this for a looonnng time now, but I've been really busy. Class ends next week and term projects are popping up everywhere and piling up! I've finally managed to wrestle some time in and get to this.
I've mentioned that this is purely based on anything you guys want to see happen (except explicit lemons because I suck at that stuff). So I'm saying that again: leave a review of what you want! Or PM me. I love talking to people and I'm usually really bored when I have free time, so hit me a message whenever.
This was requested from someone reading the Spanish translation. Prompt: Matthew hurts Gilbert while playing hockey and must nurse him back to health.
I DON'T OWN HETALIA.
Gilbert poked the blonde with the stick, urging him to the front door. "Just get a move on, will you? It'll be dark by the time we get there if you don't get that shapely ass moving!" His red eyes flickered down. Yup, just as shapely and awesome as ever. Not as awesome as his ass, but it was a close competition.
Matthew fidgeted. "But it's dark as it is, Gil. And what if the pond isn't as solid as we think?"
"Then we get a little wet." He poked his boyfriend again. "C'mon, Mattie! Please?" With a sigh, Matthew gathered up the hockey gear and loaded up the car as Gilbert jumped in the front seat, ready to head to the park.
The blonde glanced outside the frosty car window and worried at his bottom lip. At this time of year, the sun came up early and went down early. Already the sky was turning a light gray of late afternoon, a warning that it was getting closer to sunset. A feather-light touch on his knee made him turn his attention away from the snowy landscape and he found Gilbert's hand resting on his leg.
"You afraid I'll beat you?" he asked, smirking. He brought the car around a wide turn and into the entrance to the small field.
An uncertain small crossed Matthew's face. "I don't think you can even beat Anya, yet."
"That's why I have to practice! And why not with the God of Hockey himself!"
Matthew blushed and hid his face in the trunk of the car and began pulling out the bags of protective gear. He tossed them to the ground only for Gilbert to pick them right up and stomp through the few inches of fresh snow to the pond. The water was ice – how many feet of solid liquid it was, was anyone's guess – and covered with its own layer of powdered white.
While he was waiting for the master of hockey, he yanked on the pads (he knew how that worked, at least) and only confused the knee and elbow pads once – a large improvement in his opinion. By the time Matthew was ready to go, Gilbert was dressed and excited.
"I don't know how much time we'll have to practice," Matthew said, glancing up at the sky again.
"We'll have enough." The albino slapped his hockey stick to the ice and skated on. "Hit me!"
"Okay…"
It went very well for the first half-hour. Matthew had to re-teach Gilbert how to hold the hockey stick, but neither minded. Gilbert liked the warmth of his boyfriend on his back and Matthew enjoyed the feeling of wrapping his arms around him – even if it was a sport about punching each other in the face. Gilbert even managed to get one goal in. Against Matthew's thirty-five. But it was one more score than he had before and that was good enough.
High on his many accomplishments, Gilbert skated a victory lap around the edges of the pond. "I'm so awesome!" he cried to the silent evening. "One more, Matthew, I totally got this!"
The blonde glanced up from the equipment he had begun to pack away. "Gil, it's almost completely dark out. I can't see anything beyond three feet."
"Maybe you just need new glasses then. C'mon! One more! One more!" Another lap, another round of cheering.
Matthew sighed and placed a puck on the ground, grabbed a stick, and aimed where he though Gilbert's voice was coming from. He pulled back his hands and swung forward. A sharp crack resounded in the air, followed by a thud and a scream. Matthew's blood turned to ice.
"G-Gil?"
"Schiße! Gott verdammt! Mein Auge! Das tut weh!"
"Gil!" Matthew sprinted across the pond, slipping and sliding his way to his boyfriend. He fell to his knees to get to eye-level of the man curled up in on himself. The albino's hand was to his face, cupping his eye.
"E-es ist nicht so schwer."
"Gilbert! W—what?" Matthew found the puck a bit aways and picked it up. He chocked at the feeling of something wet and sticky. "I-I hit you! In the eye?" he squeaked.
"Es ist n- it's not so bad," Gilbert repeated. "Don't worry about it, Birdie."
"Don't worry about it? What if you go blind! What if I hit your head so bad you have a concussion?" He struggled to pull Gilbert's hand away from his eye. Then he remembered that it didn't matter because he couldn't see anyway. With a groan of guilt, he pulled Gilbert to his feet and dragged him to the car. He flicked the car's interior lights on and gasped.
A red welt pulsed around Gilbert's eye, making it swollen shut. A cut ran an inch below the eye, ruby red blood dripping down his cheek and onto his shirt. Matthew's hands twitched and shook as he fought over what to do first.
Reduce the swelling, right?
Matthew pulled out an extra jersey and piled snow into a bundle in the cloth. He directed Gilbert to put the make-shift ice pack on his eye and headed back to the trunk for another cloth.
"I'm so, so sorry, Gil," he said, dapping at the cut with a towel. He pulled back at a sharp hiss from his boyfriend. "I'm sorry!"
"You did say it was getting dark," he answered. "My awesomeness was just drowning out your lame worries. I guess I should have listened."
"You won't listen next time, either."
"What was that, Mattie? Gott, this hurts like hell!"
"Let's just get you to a doctor…" Matthew shoved him into the passenger's seat and put the key into the ignition. "Oh, Ivan's going to kill me when he sees what I've done to you…"
"What? Hell no. Ivan'll think that this is a Christmas miracle or something. Hold on. We're not telling him anything about this. He'll try to punch out my other eye! And if he asks, tell him something awesome, like I was wrestling a bear away from you or something heroic like that! Okay?"
"O-okay…" Matthew tried to concentrate on the road, but his hands kept shaking from the adrenaline. They weren't going to play hockey for a long time after this.
Translations:
Schiße! Gott verdammt! Mein Auge! Das tut weh! - shit! God dammit! My eye! That hurts!
E-es ist nicht so schwer - I-it is not so bad.
