Gilbert woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Shit. Just what had he done last night? All he remembered was going out to drink with Francis and Antonio, his best friends. West had to be there too, since he was visiting for the week. Oh yeah, he was there, but he was the designated driver or something. Maybe. Glibert kinda remembered Francis dancing naked on a table, Antonio crying and whining about how much he loved his pet turtles, and rivers of beer. Jesus, how did he even get home? And at what time? Shit. Elizaveta, his wife of nearly a year, was going to have his ass for breakfast. She was going to disembowel him. Groaning, he cracked one eye open to see what the hell time it was.

He looked at the bedside table, and there were two aspirins and a glass of water. Marveling at the godsend, he sat up on the bed, trying to ignore his pounding headache. He took the aspirins and noticed a note under the glass. It read "Gil, your breakfast is on the stove. I fed Gilbird and I washed your white shirt. I'll be back shortly. Love you, Lizavet."

Gilbert snickered, but stopped when it worsened his headache.

And then his brain caught up with him, and he choked on the aspirins. If Lizavet had seen him in the sorry state he was yesterday, then the two aspirins were very, very likely to be full of arsenic, ground glass or rat poison. Or a mixture of the three.

He sighed. Okay, let's not try to go overboard. Probably Lizavet didn't really want to kill him. Still, the strangely loving note was a bit suspicious. Why would she be in such a mood if yesterday night she had most likely had to drag his drunken ass to bed? He doubted his awesomeness had something to do with that. Lizavet never really looked very affected by it. Perhaps she was starting now?

Gilbert shook his head. It was sadly very unlikely. He stretched a bit and groggily dragged himself out of bed.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he walked downstairs, where his little brother was already having breakfast while reading the newspaper. And what a breakfast it was! Eggs, wurst, bacon, warm milk (it's a manly drink, so shut up), coffee and mouth-watering home-made chocolate muffins.

Gilbert was at a loss. This couldn't possibly be Lizavet's doing. She must be livid at him for what he did last night.

Ludwig looked up from his paper and said "Oh, hey Gilbert. Good morning. Glad to see you're alive."

Gilbert scoffed and sat down at the table, helping himself with everything that was in front of him. After all, Ludwig was having breakfast with them too, so Lizavet couldn't have poisoned it, right? Liavet always said how much of a positive influence West was on him, so she probably didn't want him dead. Probably. And besides, this was probably West's doing. Lizavet couldn't have been in the mood to cook.

"Alive is a big word. Let's say I survived."

Ludwig simply nodded at that and resumed reading his newspaper.

Gilbert pouted. "So, what the hell happened last night? Is Lizavet going to kill me? And thanks for the breakfast, anyway. It's awesome."

Ludwig shook his head. "Don't thank me, Elizaveta made it."

Gilbert scoffed. "No way she did. She must be angry as fuck."

Ludwig smiled a bit. "You really don't remember last night, do you?"

Gilbert took a sip of coffee before speaking again. "... don't go telling me that I gave her the most awesome night of her life, because it's not true. Lizavet hates it when I'm drunk."

Ludwig nodded. "Yes, she was mad alright when I dragged you through the door. It was nearly four and she was sleeping. And you didn't even recognize her, you just blurted out 'hey, there's a bitch in my house!' or something similar, I don't really remember. You were being obnoxious, if I do say so myself. You were singing, laughing, yelling, you were a mess. You even called her cooking revolting. You should have seen the look on her face."

Gilbert winced. All the more reason to be sure of his impending death by the hands of his wife. Not like it was true anyway. Lizavet could cook if she wanted to, but usually didn't want to. He hoped he could explain what he really meant to her before she frying-panned him into the middle of next year.

Gilbert swallowed. "... and then?"

Ludwig shrugged again. "Nothing, you just kinda passed out in the hallway, and me and Elizaveta dragged you to bed. Oh, you threw up all over the bedroom floor, by the way."

Gilbert paled. Shit, shit, shit. He better write a will before Lizavet came home.

"... just so you know, you're not inheriting my laptop."

Ludwig tried not to laugh.

"I'm not gonna lie, brother, she looked really livid. If she could have divorced you right then, she would have."

Gilbert swallowed. Dude. Duuuude. He was in for it.

But it didn't make sense! If what West was saying was true, then why was there a magnificent breakfast on the table and a couple of not poisoned aspirins on the bedside table, plus that really cute note under the glass?

"... then why didn't she kill me? Why did she make me breakfast and leave aspirins and a note for me? It doesn't make any sense."

Ludwig tried to keep a content smile at bay as he answered. "Oh, that. You see, when we managed to get you in bed, she tried to change you into your pajamas. I didn't catch the whole action, I was looking for something to clean your vomit with. But when I was back to your room, she was trying to get your pants off, and you said 'get off bitch, I have a wonderful wife back home.'"

Woohoo. This was originally a joke on marriage, but I found it so, so, so really cute. So I tried my hand at changing it into a one-shot with a couple that I fangirl over so much, but had never written. Pruhun. Which is so effing cute. They were always meant to be. Or at least, I like to think so XD

Should I do another shot with Lizavet's POV?