So, getting your wisdom teeth out isn't very fun... My mouth is sore :(

And I have three days off from work, and I'm sitting here, watching "Shark Week," but it's all reruns and I'm bored and don't really know what to do...

So, I thought that it'd be a great time to work on the plethora of stories that I have yet to finish... So here's the next installment of this story. Like I said before, anyone who can come up with a title that I like, I'll write a snippet of German bros. for them, so long as it's not too explicit.

But for now, enjoy.

Disclaimer: No matter how much I throw a temper tantrum, "Hetalia" still doesn't belong to me...


Ludwig stood in front of his bathroom mirror, examining his own naked torso with curiosity. Beside him, Gilbert sleepily brushed his teeth, red eyes half-closed still from the night's sleep. Blue eyes swept over the smaller man's frame, taking in all the faded scars and other markings on the pale skin. Old injuries that never truly healed were seen poking out of the tank top that his brother was wearing, many of them hardly noticeable unless you were looking for them.

When Gilbert spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth out with water, Ludwig spoke. "Bruder?"

Gilbert grunted in response, letting him know that the still sleepy man was listening.

"Bruder, where'd you get all those scars from?"

Gilbert caught Ludwig's gaze in the mirror and raised a silver eyebrow. Ludwig stared back intently, blue eyes questioning.

"From battle and what not," was the albino's cryptic reply. "You should know; all nations have them. It marks our history."

Ludwig nodded, refusing to break eye contact. "Ja, I know that, bruder," he said.

"Then why'd-"

"I'm asking about the ones that don't have to do with us being nations," Ludwig interrupted, and Gilbert scowled. "You know, the ones that come from us being human."

The two stared at each other in the mirror for a few moments before Gilbert sighed and lifted his shirt above his head, twisting around to point to a small, jagged scar on the back of his shoulder.

"I was climbing a tree when I was little," he said. "I got all the way to the top before I realized that the tree was home to dozens of bats sleeping. They didn't take too kindly to being woken, and swarmed me. I got halfway down before I had to bale. Landed fine, but one of the buggers got in a lucky shot. They're teeth are sharper than you think."

Ludwig's blue eyes stared at the small scar before moving to a larger one on his hip that went from the middle of his back to his belly-button. Gilbert followed his gaze with his own eyes.

"That one's actually from a hunting accident," he explained. "My stallion spooked and I fell off; landed right on a bear trap. I was small enough that it wrapped around that much."

Ludwig reached out and traced the three inch scar on the back of Gilbert's neck. "This one?" he asked.

"Tripped over a rock next to a blacksmith," Gilbert muttered, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. "His hot poke got me when he whipped around to try and catch me."

Ludwig grinned before he touched another one between his shoulder blades.

"Sparing with Elizabeta. The only time she's ever gotten me with a sword."

"But not with a frying pan," Ludwig chuckled.

The Prussian mumbled something unintelligible before Ludwig's hand traveled to his skinny front, where it hovered over an oddly shaped one by his right shoulder. "What's this one from?"

"Actually, that's from Toris and Feliks. The two got me with my own arrow before I could retreat," Gilbert said with a scowl.

Ludwig chuckled again before his touch moved to one that was partly hidden by the man's boxers. It was long and skinny, and came up right above his hip. "What about this?"

Gilbert was silent for a moment, and when Ludwig looked up to the mirror, the albino's face was blank, eyes focused on the sink.

"Bruder?" Ludwig asked, concern welling up.

"That's from Ivan," Gilbert said quietly.

All color drained from Ludwig's face and he pulled his hand away quickly as if Gilbert's skin had burned him. "Bruder, I'm sorry, I-"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Gilbert muttered, and pulled his shirt back on, avoiding his younger brother's gaze.

Ludwig nodded, and the two continued their morning routine in an uncomfortable silence. When they went down for breakfast, Ludwig cleared his throat. Gilbert looked up from his plate of pancakes at him warily.

"What?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"Bruder, I… uh…" Ludwig struggled to put his thoughts into words.

"Spit it out, West," the albino snapped, setting his fork down.

"Uh… I was just wondering… you have so many scars…"

Gilbert sighed. "We've been over this, West."

"Ja, but… how come the only ones I have are from training with you, or reflect my status as a nation? Why do I have so few when you have so many?"

Gilbert gazed at him for a long moment, red eyes guarded and face blank. He finally let out a long sigh before running a hand over his face and resettled his gaze on the younger male.

"You don't have any scars because when you were young, I never let anything happen to you," Gilbert said quietly. "I didn't want you to know the pain that humans could feel, because then you would be stronger. You would never know what physical pain felt like, and would never be tied down by the feeling; nothing would hold you back."

Ludwig watched as Gilbert stood and grabbed his plate, still full of food, and dumped it in the sink, blue eyes wide.

"I didn't want you to feel the pain that the rest of us do, because you were different. You were going to be the best of us all, and wouldn't have any human emotions tying you down. You were going to be great, but… I guess that sheltering you for so long… it was my mistake. Maybe if I had…" He shook his head. "Either way, it's my fault. I took all your scars for you, and, even though I'm happy with the man you've become, maybe…"

The Prussian stopped himself. "It doesn't matter. You don't have any scars because I took them instead. That's the important thing."

Ludwig watched, eyes wide and mind numb, as Gilbert grabbed his shoes and left through the front door, slamming it shut behind him.


I'm actually not too happy with how this one came out. It was different in my head, but oh, well. Reviews are appreciated. Flames will be given to the sharks on TV.