Ludwig could tell Feli was still upset, even days after he'd "come out of the closet," as they say.

Ludwig had done the best he could to cheer Feli up. He was certainly cheerful again like his old self, but it was obvious that more than half the smiles Feli wore were as fake as Sasquatch. Meaning, completely and utterly unrealistic.

The failure-ness of it hardly held a chance of discouraging Ludwig from trying to cheer Feli up. He'd attempted to make a traditional Italian dinner and everything. Only it tasted horrible.

"I like it," Feli assured. Though it wasn't assuring at all.

"I can barely choke it down."

Feli pushed the food around his plate as if he might find something hidden underneath. Then he fumbled a bit and food splattered on Ludwig's face, making him giggle.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" Ludwig growled, making Feli look nervous.

"Uh. . . Um, well. . ." he said.

Ludwig picked up his own spoonful of food and flicked it at Feli. "Now it is!" He laughed.

"Maybe it'll taste better now!" Feli licked a little off his chin. "Nope, still just as horrible."

He grinned-a real grin, finally-and threw more food at Ludwig, which Ludwig threw back, until they were in a full-on food fight. When they ran out of cooked food, they rummaged the cabinets and fridge. Ludwig, being the one who actually worked out daily, got to the cabinets first. He thought that gave him the advantage, but no.

Feli had the liquids.

Ludwig immediately realized his mistake. But it was too late, Feli had already laid claim to the fridge.

Feli used things like ketchup, while Ludwig was stuck using uncooked pasta and the like. Until he got to the back of the cabinet. He was blessed with three weapons of mass destruction.

Ludwig flashed a malicious grin as he pulled out a spoon and approached slowly across the kitchen floor. With a jar of Nutella and and jar of peanut butter tucked under an arm, the caps screwed off, and a spoon in hand, he was a force to be reckoned with.

But Feli had a secret weapon of his own. From behind him, he brought out a beer and a bottle cap opener. Ludwig stopped in his tracks.

"You wouldn't."

"Isn't this one of the world's most famous beers? You know, that one from Belgium?" Feli asked, twirling the bottle in his fingers. "You're aging it, aren't you? It's got a layer of dust."

"F-for a f-few y-years," Ludwig stuttered. If he opened that beer. . .

"How about if. . ." Feli thought for a little while as Ludwig held his breath in silence. "How about if you go on a date with me?"

"Fine. J-just put the b-beer d-down."

Feli smiled and put the bottle away before walking off. Ludwig sat back down at the table and could only think:

Well, it was certainly an entertaining day.

Author's Note: Happy dance! I'm all caught up for this story!

You people who know your beers, please tell me what beer I'm talking about. It's killing me.

Anyway, thank you, Guest, for pointing out what I forgot to mention. Yes, this sounds like another HRE=Germany theory fic, but alas, it is not. I'm completely dedicated to that idea. Unfortunately, Holy Rome is dead and gone.

I'm working on getting THREE more stories up and running, AND catch up on past missed chapters. Oh, and my collab needs working on. So, sadly, I'm dedicating Fridays (from now on) to this story.

Okay, happy thoughts! Yay! Um, uh. . .

Dunno what that was. Anyway, I'm hoping to get at least one of my other stories up tonight, so you can go to my profile to find those~! Oh, yeah, apologies for the weird pairings that show up in some of them. . .

-TN