A/N: Sorry, y'all. High school is very, very hard. Seeing as I'm two years ahead in not just French, but Latin (which I had to fight to be able to do; my school does not like double-languaging), a year ahead in Math, in all honors classes, taking two languages out of school, taking voice lessons, participating in five clubs (A Cappella/Glee, Speech, Mock Trial, the musicals, and Gay-Straight-Alliance), I THINK I HAVE AN EXCUSE FOR ABSENCE KTHXBAI.

Also, I am concentrating on Hetalia now, not Death Note. So yeah. Sorry! I'll probably try to pick some of the stories back up.

Sometimes, Prussia wondered why he'd ever fallen in love with Austria. The guy was stuffy, prissy, threw hissy fits, and seemed to not understand the meaning of the word "fun." He whined about saving money all the livelong day, he preached responsibility to Prussia (yeah, like that makes any sense; they basically have a law against it in physics now), and he basically loved his fucking piano more than he loved Prussia.

Which was totally not fair.

But then, after those angry ponderings full of spite and frustration, Prussia would look at his lover, and he'd remember why he loved Roderich Edelstein. He loved him because he'd always been there.

When Prussia had started to fade into nothing after his Teutonic Knightship, Austria had been there to hold his hand and insist that everything would go back to normal. It didn't, of course. But Austria was there.

When Prussia became East Germany and was under Russia's rule, Austria had been there. He rented hotel rooms, and Prussia would sneak out to be with him for a night. A precious, delightful night. Sometimes they'd just lie on their backs and murmur to one another, holding hands. Sometimes they'd have hot, passionate sex. Sometimes they'd cry to one another—not Prussia to Austria, of course; Prussia was far too awesome to cry. Austria was the pussy who'd cry. Or so Prussia claimed. Whatever what they did on those single nights, it didn't matter, because Austria was there.

When the Berlin Wall was knocked down and Prussia started to fade again, Austria was there. He ordered him to stay strong. Prussia was tired of alternating between existent and nonexistent. He just wanted to die. But Austria wouldn't allow it. He played his godforsaken Mozart, his fucking Bach—was Bach even Austrian?—until Prussia stormed into the piano room, screeching for Austria to "shut the fuck up or the piano would be history by tomorrow." Prussia was no longer transparent. Austria was there.

Now, Prussia glances over at the form beside him in bed. The warm light of a newly risen sun trickles through the opening in the curtains, letting slivers of pale yellow illuminate his lover. Austria's face is calm, his mouth open slightly as his breaths lift and lower his ribcage. Prussia blinks, looking down at Austria from where he sits on the edge of the bed. His fingers tighten around the white sheets, and a small smile weaves its way onto his mouth. Of course, nobody would ever see the smile, so it matters not that it is genuine. It is not a condescending smirk or a sneer, like the expression usually painted on Prussia's lips. It is a look of contentment.

Slowly and carefully, Prussia returns to his spot under the covers. He settles himself beside Austria, daring to even snuggle against the warmth of his lover. He does not make a sound, not wishing to disturb Austria. He nestles his face in Austria's neck, inhaling his musky, masculine scent that seemed to still reek of flowers. He closes his eyes, and curls into the older man's body as he once more slips into sleep.

He remembers why he loves Roderich Edelstein in his last nanoseconds of consciousness.

It is moments like these. Moments when he does not have to be an asshole. Moments when Gilbert Beilschmidt can, for a few seconds, appreciate something he knows he loves. And then pretend he hardly cares.

He loves Roderich more than beer. But he'll never admit it. Because he's Gilbert.

Some pointless, semi-OOC fluff for your reading pleasure. R&R if you have the time!

-Christie

Also, some notes:

The history of Prussia is something I know little about, and honestly, I don't care enough to research for a 700-word drabble. If I write something longer, I'll research. I promise. BUT. I know enough to know when stuff happened. Generally. I think.