K is for:

kibble

"Um, Gilbert? What's that?" Matt gestured to the bag Gil was holding.

"It's kibble. For your dog."

"Dog…?" Matt frowned. "You mean Kumariku? He's a bear."

"Well, you can still feed it to him, right?" Gil asked, shifting the (rather heavy) bag of dog food.

"I-I guess I can try, but he probably won't eat it. Kumamoro is pretty picky."

"…Kumamoro? Didn't you call it Kumariku a second ago?"

kitchen

"Mm…Gil…"

"G-Gott, Mattie!"

"H…harder, Gil!"

Alfred froze, hand outstretched toward his brother's door. He reluctantly found himself tip-toeing around to peek in Matt's kitchen window, to make sure his brother wasn't doing what he thought he was doing.

He was. Against the refrigerator, and rather…enthusiastically. Alfred backed away, hand held over his eyes.

I think I've just been scarred for life.

keen

The blade caught the light, shining painfully bright. It was pulled through giving flesh, blood running in neat rivulets.

Gilbert hummed to himself as he cut the steak, while Mattie prepared the grill outside. He wasn't really paying as much attention to what he was doing as he should have been. The keen blade of the kitchen knife caught the tip of his thumb, sinking into it deeply. He jerked his hand back, cussing loudly, and dropped the knife.

"Gil? You okay?" Matt called, poking his head in the door. "Shit, Gil, what'd you do?" He yelped, watching bloody water run down the drain as Gilbert gingerly cleaned the injury.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just cut myself a little, that's all."

"A little? I can practically see the bone!"

Gilbert paled considerably, inspecting the cut. After a moment, he gave a relieved sigh. "You shouldn't exaggerate like that, Birdie."

king

"Damnit, Mattie!" Gil groaned, flopping back onto the floor. "How come you always win? I was a soldier, um Gottes willen, I should be good at this game!

"Arthur is the one who taught me how to play. Want another match?" Matt queried, gathering the chess pieces expectantly.

"Arthur taught you how to play? No wonder I can't win." Gil grumbled, avoiding Matt's question. It was a well-known fact among the European nations, especially the older ones, that Arthur was the best chess player among them.

"So?" Matt prompted, waving his pieces in Gil's face.

"Nah, you'd just kick my ass again."

Matt smirked. "Sore loser." He accused.

"This is the first thing I've ever lost at, so I don't have a whole lot of experience doing it gracefully." Gil crossed his arms and scowled at the fireplace.

"First thing you've ever lost at? Somehow I doubt that." Matt raised an eyebrow.

"Well, there was that one time… But I was drunk, so that doesn't count!"

knit

"…good tidings we bring, to you and your—"

"Mattie, it's too early in the morning to be singing." Gilbert groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.

"But, Gil, it's Christmas!" Matt insisted, jabbing his half-asleep boyfriend in the side.

"Ugh…" Was all Gil said.

Matt left, only to return with an armful of presents and a plate.

Gil sat up, sniffing. "Essen?"

"Cookies." Matt said, setting the platter down.

"And you brought the presents up."

"Yup. I figured we could just spend the day in here."

"I like the sound of that."

Matt just rolled his eyes and dropped the packages on the bed. "Here, since you're so awesome, open one of yours first." He tossed a box at Gil's head.

Gilbert received a crate of German beer from Ludwig, a hat with a nest built into it from Feliciano, a box of condoms from Francis, a box of cigars from Cuba, and a copy of Don Quijote de la Mancha from Antonio.

Matt's haul was slightly smaller, with a box of wine from Francis, a hat with an American flag pattern from Alfred, a carton of ice cream (packed in ice) from Cuba, and something not quite identifiable but surely well meant from Arthur.

"What do you think it is?" Gil examined the woolen monstrosity that Artie had sent.

"I… I honestly don't know." Matt plucked a card from the box. "'I wasn't sure what size you were, and Alfred wouldn't sit still long enough for me to get a good measurement, but I hope it fits. It's knitted from the finest wool available. Merry Christmas, love, Arthur.'" Matt read aloud. "So it's clothes?"

"Apparently."

"Maybe a sweater?" Matt poked at the lump of wool. Gil rubbed his hand over it.

"Whatever it is, it's itchy."

..

Gott-God.
Um Gottes willen-for God's sake.
Essen?-Food?
Did I surprise you with where keen went, after the way I started it? Did I did I did I? Also, I'm fairly certain Don Quijote de la Mancha is a real book. No, I know it's a real book, I'm just not sure if that's the title. I don't know why Toni would be sending Gil a novel, but that was really all I could think of. We just read the shortened (very shortened) version in Spanish class, so… Once again, I apologize for uploading this twice, but once again, I have had my German corrected. Sorry if that messes anything up! ChiCho out!