Ah finally! I swear I have serious problems that it took me three days to get this done. Ugh, senior projects are full of pain. Anyway! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and alerted to this! I hope I'll meet your expectations with this.

Pancakes

Discovery number 1: Pancakes will either make or break the day.

After a year of living with Gilbert, Matthew understood that the only way to get what he wanted from the man was to bribe him with the things he enjoyed most – beer, pancakes, a trip to bother Roderich, and himself. Mondays generally went the same; Matthew woke up first and spent a good hour trying to rouse Gilbert from the dead without the help of food. He would poke and prod and whine – he had even jumped on him once; that didn't turn out so well, it was interesting though – but Gilbert refused to so much as open an eye without being offered some sort of reward for his efforts. After an hour of fruitless attempts, Matthew would give up trying and resort to one of the four brides.

He started with beer, as the man was sure to ask for it once he actually did get up anyway. He would open a bottle – bought from Ludwig after a fairly long fight about the 'unawesomeness' of Canadian beer – and hold it under his nose. Some days it worked like smelling salts and Gilbert would be up and begging for pancakes in seconds; others it was like trying to wake the dead by simply banging their head to the ground. If it happened that the offered beer didn't do the trip, Matthew continued on to bride number two: A trip to bother poor Roderich (and to be mentally scared by Elizaveta – and her frying pan in Gilbert's case).

Anyone who opened a history book knew of the War of Austrian Succession – Prussia fighting Austria, all that German rivalry crap – well, Prussia still seemed to believe he needed to annoy the living hell out of Austria, thus his tormenting of poor Roderich Edelstein. Really, someone would think that Gilbert were dating Roderich instead of Matthew, unless they counted Elizaveta into the mix. One glance at the two of them and their relationship – however rocky – was clear as day. But that wasn't the point. The point, was that it was a terrifyingly easy way to get Gilbert out of bed I one so much as mentioned going to Austria for a 'business meeting.' but, though it worked a good amount of the time beer failed, it was not the fool proof plan to get the albino moving before noon. And Matthew usually had to revert to more...Francis appropriate methods to get the overenthusiastic man to shut up about whatever form of torture he was going to be using that day when it did work.

Which led to bribe number three, and where he found himself today: Himself.

Now, it wasn't that Matthew disliked making his boyfriend pancakes at odd hours of the day, he knew it was an appreciated gesture – as much as Gilbert could show appreciation for anything – but he wanted to break the man of the unhealthy habit. Even if he happened to be a nation, pancakes twice a day and smothered in syrup were not good for him – just as Alfred had started to gain some weight from his continuous supply of burgers, though that was Arthur's problem. He would love Gilbert regardless of his weight – in theory, at least – but he knew that the man would be angry with himself. Besides, who could deny someone as adorable as Matthew waking them up? Apparently, a tired Gilbert could.

Matthew kissed his way up the exposed chest, nipping places he thought would look nice red and leaving a burning trail behind him. He bit hard enough to mark Gilbert's pale neck as his and earned a small sigh as a reward. Red eyes fluttered open, instantly locking with violet. Matthew smirked sneakily and continued his path up his lover's neck and over his jaw, ending centimeters from his lips.

"Will you please get up Gil? I need your help with something." he let his lips brush lightly over the man's, shifting so he pinned him to the bed. Gilbert groaned, a sign Matthew recognized as meaning the man needed more incentive to get up. Matthew resorted to acting as his 'father' would have in his place. He flipped them over so the albino was now above him – thankfully coherent enough not to crush him – and ground their hips together to give the man the message. The red eyes still locked with his darkened and he reciprocated ecclesiastically as pair of hands made their way to the waistband of his boxers. Gilbert smirked and jerked forward, forcing Matthew's hands past the elastic. He brought their lips close again, running his tongue over the trapped pair and speaking quietly.

"We can only continue this if you give me pancakes, Mattie."

And Gilbert found himself on the cold floor.

Matthew had thrown him off the bed and was now pulling on his jeans and usual sweatshirt. The nerve of that man! He'd been ready to give him the best wake up call of his incredibly long life and what does he do? Ask for fucking pancakes! It was as if he was trying to make him explode from sheer frustration – both sexual and not.

"Hey Mattie! What about my pancakes!?"

"Make them yourself!"

Matthew slammed the bedroom door, making as much noise as possible as he made his way downstairs to plop angrily on the couch. He couldn't believe Gilbert could be so...so Gilbert! Who in their right mind refuses someone willing to sleep with them first thing in the morning? Then again it was Gilbert he was dealing with and he had never exactly been in his right mind. But still! Gilbert had never once changed the subject after they had gotten as far as they had; he wasn't as bad as Francis, but there were moments where they could be one in the same. Matthew shivered involuntarily at the thought of sex with Francis, that was a thought he had never wanted to have in his lifetime.

He turned on the TV as he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Gilbert was trying to sneak up on him, probably thinking that he could still get pancakes if he apologized. Matthew snorted, as if he'd cook for the bastard after that little stunt. He wanted pancakes, he could damn well make them himself, if he could that is – Gilbert was a miserable cook when it came to anything apart from wurst and potatoes. He waited patiently to tell him that, no, he would not be getting pancakes or any other food from him today and it would take more than some half sincere apology for him to cook tomorrow as well, but the man never entered the living room. Instead, he heard the door leading to the garden Matthew had planted a few years back in the hopes of having somewhere peaceful to escape to on the rare occasions his family remembered him and visited.

His breath hitched. What if Gilbert was leaving entirely because he wouldn't be getting anything? It had happened before, though not since they had started dating and definitely not since they began living together. And what if he didn't come back? Where would that leave him? He'd be so...alone. Again. There would be no yelling at random times of the day about beer or vital regions, he wouldn't be able to kick the idiot when he made fun of his beer or his hair or his flag ("It needs to be more AWESOME, Mattie! Get a bird or something."), he would simply be alone. Kumajirou still couldn't remember him and the bear had grown rather attached to Gilbird, he would probably be upset (could bears get upset?) as well. He couldn't lose Gilbert; sure he was an idiot, but he was his idiot.

He was just about to get up and run after the man when the door clicked back open and Gilbert's footfalls sounded from the kitchen. Matthew could tell he was barefoot, his feet making a muffled noise as he walked. Had he worried for nothing? Even Gilbert wouldn't leave without shoes on, well, he might if pushed far enough. Matthew let a sigh of relief, glad for the volume of the TV to hide the soft sound from Gilbert's ears. It also kept him from hearing what the man was doing in the kitchen, unfortunately. He didn't think he would really leave, but he couldn't help the overwhelming sense of dread that was slowly building in his chest telling him it was, in fact, a possibility. Really, what did he even offer Gilbert? It wasn't as if he were particularly exciting like his brother or loud and flirtatious like Francis, he was just some miserable country that everyone forgot existed. Gilbert was...Gilbert. He wouldn't allow himself to be ignored or forgotten, even if his country technically didn't exist anymore. He was nothing when compared to Gilbert, so why was the man even with him?

He felt hopeless, as if someone had taken his heart and threw it on the ground before him and his body simply refused to just die. He curled his legs up to his chest and rested his forehead against his knees. He could just feel it. He was going to lose Gilbert. He was going to be alone. All alone, with no one to make him feel as if he were more important than Alfred, or anything other than a useless mass taking up space in the world. He could feel the tears prick at his eyes. No, he wouldn't cry, not with Gilbert still here. He would find something to keep him here, he had to. He couldn't be alone again, not after being with him.

The smell of something burning halted his thoughts. Burning? What could be burning? He hadn't cooked at all today and Gilbert was a terrible...cook. Shit.

Matthew jumped from the couch, forgetting the pain in his chest for a few small moments to run through the swinging door to kitchen.

"Gil, what the hell are you doing?"

Gilbert was standing at the stove, batter of some kind in his hair and arms, with a perfectly clean apron tied over his chest. There was black smoke coming from a pan and a blackened...something that resided in it.

"What does it look like in doing? I'm making pancakes, Dummkopf."

"What? Why would you do that?" He received nothing but a noncommittal grunt in reply. Figuring he'd get a serious answer when the man wasn't trying to burn down his kitchen, he glanced around to assess the damage he would make the albino clean later.

There was batter everywhere – walls, floor ceiling, almost every available surface had some type of mess on it – the table had been the only area spared in Gilbert's culinary attempts. It was set with two place settings and a large bottle of syrup – the biggest size in the house; as least he knew his own cooking was better drowned in maple and sugar, though what wasn't? There was also a small vase in the center with a white carnation in it. He remembered Gilbert planting those months ago, saying something about how they stood for remembrance and he wanted Matthew to be remembered. A small smile crept on to Matthew's lips at the memory as he realized what Gilbert was trying to do. He was trying to apologize without actually saying anything - "It is not awesome to admit that you messed up, Mattie, so I will never apologize to anyone."

"Scheisse!"

Matthew returned his gaze to the man standing at the stove. He now had his hand held up to his face, examining his fingers carefully before sticking one in his mouth. Matthew sighed and stepped over, taking the hand out of his mouth and bringing him over to the sink. He ran the water until it was cold and stuck the burnt digit under it.

"Idiot, sucking on it will only make it worse."

Gilbert huffed, but said nothing else. After assuring that the burn was not actually burning anymore, Matthew got the burn cream – they had several tubes of the stuff, just in case – from the drawer and spread a small amount over the burn. Gilbert groaned slightly and tried to pull away from him, the blond held his wrist tighter and placed the small band-aid around his finger.

"There. Now stop cooking before you burn the house down. I forgive you already."

"Who said I was cooking for you? Maybe I just wanted to eat at a fancy table for once." He turned away from Matthew, lips pulling up into an almost-pout.

"Yes, I'm sure that was what happened, Gil."

"Damned right it was."

Matthew chuckled, taking the hand again and kissing the tips of each of the fingers. Gilbert groaned low in his throat and Matthew laughed more before taking one of the fingers into his mouth. He smiled around the digit when he heard Gilbert's breath hitch.

"So...Does that mean you're finishing what you started? Or is this just some type of doctor game? 'Cause if it is, it's going to have to be taken upstairs anyway."

Matthew smirked, leaning up to lick a stray bit of batter from the man's cheek, lingering slightly near his ear.

"Clean the kitchen and I'll think about it."

Gilbert all but ran to clean the mess. Matthew smiled, taking the carnation with him as he made his way upstairs. He would be making pancakes later. They were the perfect end to the day, after all.

Fail ending is Fail. Seriously just pulled the last thousand words or so from my bum. It wasn't even what I had planned for this one...OTL

Ah well, the next chapter should be up next week (after I finish Fragments if I can get rid of the rock I've hit with that). Also, sorry about the random depressed bit in there...I was seriously upset when I wrote it...hopefully that will be gone in time for the next chapter.

Oh! I know there are like a billion meanings for some flowers, but I got the carnation idea from this site http : // www . aboutflowers . com/flower-a-plant-information-and-photos /meanings-of-flowers .html Just take out the spaces. It fit Mattie with that meaning and Gilbert planting them will come back in another chapter since I forgot I had them planned for a different one... lol

Edit: Haha! So I was told by Schnubbi that "Kunstkopf" (which Google told me meant dummy head...I forgot that before in my rush to get this up....) isn't a word... Yeah, Google hates me I think. And it's just not reliable. Damn, and I thought it would be cute... Ah well, I think I'll leave anyway just for the laughs!

Edit 2: Yeah! I got better translation for my silly mistake! lol I'm so silly sometimes...