Happy birthday, Gilbo! :D

Wrote this in a day, since it just kinda popped into my head. Couldn't resist doing something on Prussia's birthday. I don't care if he's not a country any more! I still celebrate it! XP

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Gilbert's birthday used to be the thing of legends.

Ludwig remembers, as far back as he possibly could, that his brother's birthday parties had always been the biggest party of the year. It was more festive that Christmas, louder than New Years Eve, and far more entertaining that anything that anyone else could possibly have come up with.

It took almost an entire month to prepare. As soon as Christmas was over with, plans for the celebration would begin, and would continue until the last second before the guests arrived. There were huge cakes made by both France and Prussia's finest, delicacies from nearly every country in Europe. The entertainment was the most sought after; famous bands, magicians, acrobats, animal tamers, jesters. There was something for everyone to enjoy.

The whole castle was decorated with streamers and colorful papers and shiny bulbs. Festive flowers adorned every table, wreaths hung from every door. The doorways had a bauble hanging from the center. Blue and red ribbons, Gilbert's favorite colors, were wound around the staircase banisters, bows tied neatly at the end. Even the kitchen, where the nation hardly ever ventured, was decorated.

The guests were always on time, and as soon as the first person entered the hall where the party was taking place, the music would start. As more people filtered in, laughter overtook the music. Conversations intermingled. People chatted, they danced, they picked at the small eateries on the food table.

Heads of houses, kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, lords, ladies, barons, baronesses, stable boys, maids, all types of people, important or simply a servant to Prussia, and royalty of other countries, walked among Gilbert's fellow nations.

Simply put, it was the place to be.

An hour or more after the party began, Gilbert would make his entrance. He'd be dressed in his best, hair combed back and neat, as he was announced. Ludwig remembers watching him glide down the stairs with easy, red eyes scrunched up with how big his smile was. He'd hop the last few steps and land with a flourish, everyone laughing and applauding as he grinned, approaching his own king.

Gilbert would then invite everyone over to the huge table, where everyone would sit, the guest of honor at the head, for dinner. Ludwig always sat on his brother's right, the King of Prussia on Gilbert's left. The best beer was brought out - milk for Ludwig when he was younger - and Gilbert would stand. He'd say a few words, thank everyone for coming, and then sit down. His king would follow, adding in what exactly it was that they were celebrating, and then everyone would toast.

"To Prussia!" they all cried, and drank to their country, their friend.

Dinner was a spectacular affair. The best wurst was prepared, and the potatoes, already mashed, simply melted on the tongue. Vegetable were place on the side, for those who didn't have the taste for them. Huge chickens sat on the table in between the candles, bought from the best farmer, no doubt. Wine was brought, for those who had the desire for it. Noodles and pork and beef; all the smells mixed together in a simply mouth-watering aroma that made even the strongest man's stomach rumble.

After the feast was over, Gilbert cut the cake - German Chocolate, of course - and even if the people were too full from dinner, it was consumed within seconds. The music started again, and the floor was cleared for dancing. While some, usually the more intoxicated people, took to the floor, Gilbert, Ludwig trailing after him, mingled in the crowed, going from person to person. He'd ask how their wives or children were doing, how things were over on their end, and "we must go hunting together soon!" before thanking them for coming and moving onto the next.

His fellow nations were a little more excited. Even the stiff Roderich always seemed to have a good time. Elizabeta never gave him a hug, but she did refrain from hitting him with her frying pan, so Ludwig assumed that was a gift in of itself. Francis and Antonio would joke with their friend, and the other nations indulged the man in entertaining conversation.

The festivities lasted well into dawn, at which point, Gilbert was too drunk to see any of the guests leave and Ludwig was granted the task of getting his brother to bed. Looking back, Ludwig supposed that he should be grateful that the albino seemed to wait until his head touched a pillow to pass out. But the blonde would help the other nation climb the stairs to his brother's room. Once he was sleeping, Ludwig removed the boots Gilbert wore and was able to wrestle him out of his pants and jacket. He'd pull the covers over the sleeping form, and then cross over to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside him.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, bruder," Ludwig whispered, placing a kiss on Gilbert's forehead before turning onto his side and closing his eyes.

During the wars, Gilbert's parties weren't as big, but they were just as festive.

The soldiers would scrounge up some alcohol wherever they were at the time, and Ludwig would decorate their camp with whatever decorations they could find or make. Paper dolls became the norm, and when Kiku got word, he helped make origami to hang from whatever was around.

When sunset came, Gilbert was ushered to the center of the fray. He'd laugh, clap Ludwig on the shoulder, and offer his thanks.

Then, the rest of the army would raise their glasses to the cheer of "To the Admiral!"

Everyone would drink, a few soldiers who had gotten ahold of some instruments would play some songs, and someone would start a fire. More beer was passed around, and Gilbert would tell stories, dozens of men surrounding him. Somehow, more beer was always found, sometimes wine, depending on where they were. The men laughed, Ludwig smiled, and Gilbert's stories would get wilder and wilder. When the moon was high in the sky, the tall blonde would assist his brother to their shared tent, gently pushing the drunken man down onto his sleeping mat.

"West, you're... you're awesome," Gilbert slurred, red eyes unfocused as the younger man grabbed a blanket and threw it over him. "Not as awesome as me, but still awesome."

"Sure, bruder," Ludwig replied, rolling his eyes.

Gilbert shook his head, arms flailing about. "Nein," he continued. "You're... well, you're just awesome. I mean... you're really awesome..." Ludwig tried to wrestle his arms back under the blanket. Gilbert suddenly grabbed ahold of his brother's shirt and pulled him down so that Ludwig's blonde head was lying on his chest. "You're so awesome, I love you," he said. "I love you..."

He trailed off, and Ludwig was still for a moment. When he heard Gilbert's breathing even out, he gently wriggled out of the hold he was in, making sure that the albino was tucked in. He smiled softly at the sleeping man, and before he turned off the lantern in their tent and climbed into his own little bed, leaned down and pressed his lips on Gilbert's forehead.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, bruder," he murmured against the snow white hair.

In their years of separation, Ludwig celebrated his brother's birthday alone.

He'd spend all day baking a cake, and he'd set out the fine china. He'd go shopping for the best beer, getting as much as he could. Then, after dropping it off at home, when it got to be twilight, he'd walk out to the wall. He'd take a stroll around it, listening for anything on the other side. Sometimes, he'd call out for his brother.

No one ever answered.

He didn't even know if his brother celebrated his birthday anymore. After being dissolved, did he still have that right? Was Ivan letting him have a party? Surely it couldn't be as grand as the ones he had had in the past. But even if Gilbert wasn't celebrating, Ludwig would do it for him. Just because he wasn't there, wasn't a nation, didn't mean that he wasn't still human. He could celebrate for Gilbert if Gilbert couldn't.

Shortly after dark, right when the stars began to appear, Ludwig would make his way back home. Kiku and Feliciano would be waiting for him outside. Together, they walked in. Ludwig offered them a fine dinner of wurst and potatoes. Then he cut the cake. Feliciano brought wine; Luwdig drank nearly the entire thing himself. Before it was all gone, three final glasses were poured.

"To bruder," Ludwig said somberly.

"To Gilbert," Feliciano and Kiku agreed, and the three toasted. Germany gulped his entire glass in no time.

Then he broke out the beer.

While he drank in the dining room, Kiku did the dishes, and through his fuzzy mind, Ludwig thought that maybe there was something wrong with that. But the little voice in his head told him to ignore it, and so he drank.

He never remembered what happened afterwards, but that didn't mean Kiku and Feliciano didn't. After about his eighth beer, the tall blonde would stumble out of his chair. He'd cling to the wall in support as he made his way to the door.

"Where are you going, Ludwig?" Kiku asked, worry in his voice.

"Gotta..." Ludwig gulped, slipping on his boots. "Bruder needs to go to bed. Gotta get him to bed."

Feliciano and Kiku exchanged glances. "I think that Gilbert can take care of himself," Feliciano said quietly as Ludwig clumsily opened the door and stepped out into the snow. He took a few steps before tripping over his unties boots and landing face-first.

The Italian hurried to help him up.

"He's gotta go to bed," Ludwig muttered, blue eyes staring off into the distance. "He needs help. Never gonna get there if I don't help him."

"We'll help him," Kiku said, holding the door open as Feliciano coaxed the drunken German back into the house and onto the couch. "You just rest here."

As the small brunette grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, Ludwig grabbed his wrist.

"You gotta tell him," he slurred. "Tell him... tell him..."

"Tell him what?" Kiku indulged. Feliciano gently removed the blonde's grip and set about taking off the boots.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag," Ludwig sighed, eyes slipping shut. "Gotta... tell... him... Herz...lichen...Glück...wunsch...zum...Geburtstag..."

In the morning, Ludwig awoke alone with a pounding headache. The nausea crept up and soon he was running to the toilet, where he emptied his stomach. As he sagged on the bathroom floor, he rested his hot cheek against the cool toilet seat. He shut his eyes tight, a few beads of tears escaping and landing with a quiet splash in the water.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, bruder," he mumbled miserably, a final tear making its way down his nose.

Today, there were no decorations. There was no cake, no music, no spectacular toast. No one was coming over to help in the celebration, because there wasn't going to be one. Instead, on his way home from work, Ludwig stopped at the grocery store. He picked up some wurst, a bag of potatoes, two cases of beer, and rented the newest movie.

When he got home, he greeted the dogs, and set work on dinner, like he did every evening. As the smell wafted through the house, Gilbert emerged from his bedroom, bags under his eyes. He gave Ludwig an unreadable look as he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of beer, and headed to the living room. About an hour later, Ludwig followed him, carrying two full plates balanced on one arm and the packs of beer in the other. He set the beer at the foot of the couch and handed a plate to his brother. He placed his own plate on the coffee table, left, and returned a few minutes later with the movie he had gotten.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent as he popped it into the DVD player and took his seat next to the albino. About a half hour later, the empty plates were stacked on the coffee table and Gilbert was leaning against the blonde. Five more beers were drained, four of them by Gilbert.

"This movie sucks," the pale man complained, glaring at the television. "Your movie picking privileges are revoked."

"Sorry," Ludwig said. "I thought you'd like this one."

"You thought wrong."

Ludwig gave a half-smile to the older man and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

Another hour passed, and Gilbert drank the next pack of beer by himself. As the movie slowly continued and the darkness outside the window grew deeper, Gilbert's tongue loosened. By the end of the film, he was quietly sobbing. Ludwig plucked the final empty bottle from his brother's hand and gently helped him sit up. He clicked the television off, pulled the other man to his feet and swung a pale over his own shoulders, and slowly made his way to the steps. Gilbert would be sleeping with him tonight.

It was a slow and draining process, as Gilbert's feet didn't seem to want cooperate. But the two finally made it to the top of steps and, finally, Ludwig's bedroom. Gilbert's tears continued, and when Ludwig gently deposited him on the huge bed, he immediately turned on his side and curled into a ball.

"Not yet, bruder," Ludwig whispered, pulling him over onto his back. "We've got to get you out of your clothes." He removed Gilbert's shoes and jeans, setting them aside for now. When he moved to start unbuttoning the white shirt his brother wore, Gilbert grabbed his wrist, glazed eyes turning to his.

"West..." he slurred. "This... is not awesome..."

"I know," Ludwig replied.

"I am not awesome..." Gilbert continued.

Ludwig gently pried away the fingers hold his wrist captive and began to undo the shirt Gilbert wore. "That's not true."

Gilbert clenched his eyes shut. "I used to be so great," he muttered, turning his head away. "Now look at me. I'm pathetic. I'm useless... I'm unawesome..."

The tall German removed the shirt, folding it and setting it at the foot of the bed. When he turned back, Gilbert was staring at him, silently crying. Ludwig smiled sadly at him. He took the man into his arms and pressed his head to his shoulder.

Gilbert cried himself to sleep. When his breathing was even, Ludwig gently lay the man back down. He pulled the comforter up around him and removed his own clothes. When he was in nothing but his own boxers, he walked around the other side of the bed and climbed in next to his brother and took the sleeping albino back into his arms. He smoothed the snowy bangs out of Gilbert's forehead and pressed a small kiss to his temple.

Even though they never really celebrated it anymore, Gilbert still had a birthday, no matter what anyone said. At least one thing remained constant through the years.

"Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, bruder," Ludwig muttered against the pale forehead. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag."

So...

Yeah...

Not my greatest, but whatevs.

Truth is, I was going write an X-mas story for these two, but my computer broke over my break, so I didn't have it for the majority of the time. And when I did get it back, I was working 10 hours a day every day, so I had no time. Then school started. But long weekends are the greatest, no? My Romano and I have been having an "Avatar: The Last Airbender" marathon all weekend, so while we've been doing that, I've been... slowly working on my stories. Expect another chapter in "For the Love of Tomatoes" and "Without a Paddle" soon!

Also, I finally decided on a name for this! Sadly, no one else came up with it, but if you still have an idea you want me to write out and put in here, I'll gladly consider it! (NO SMUT. I do not write smut.) Just send me a message! Have fun! :D