Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own writing.

A/N: I wrote this in a burst of inspiration and decided to fit it to my first otp ever; hoping to get a more dynamic approach to their relationship. Hope you enjoy :) ... (I also wrote this as I like to think Prussia isn't always an arrogant lover / )

Third time's a charm

The first time they have sex it's of the fumbling, awkward kind. The pimpled, unripe fruit of teenage affection which they wouldn't hesitate to call love in the future. The kind of nails biting into skin in anticipation and embarrassment, of blood pumping with heated desire and hidden insecurities.

It's not too bad considering they're both thirteen.

She casually glances at him throughout the act, searching for and yet failing to find his usual arrogant and abrasive nature which seems to be replaced with an affectionate and almost tender side – had it not been for the slight shaking in his hands from fear that would present itself occasionally, betraying his cool and collected façade.

He cums a little too early for her liking but she doesn't particularly mind, finishing herself off not soon after while he grunts out his pleasure above her. They enjoyed the act - that much they're sure of – but he decides it would be better if they see other people as she, the leader of the school's netball team and her father's pride and joy, could in no way be seen with him, the school joke star whom, despite his initial outer appearance, has a determination and a will stronger than she has seen in anyone else.

Thanking her lucky stars that she stole that condom from her parent's bedroom dresser, Elizabeta briskly washes herself off and moves on with her life.

The second time they cross paths in such a manner again is three years later a friend's house party. And she, ever the challenger that she is, is constantly pestering everyone to have a game of beer pong with her, "Just one more game! Please?", just so that she can see the exquisite look of defeat on their faces when she beats them once more.

Defeat doesn't really suit him.

As he slinks off to find yet another beer she follows, intrigued and tiniest bit excited at meeting him outside of school for once. The kitchen is small and cramped, leaving little for the imagination as minor cabinets containing the run of the mill nic naks are illuminated by the sodium glow of incandescent light bulbs making it seem all too homely for a crash and burn party.

He crushes the cheap plastic cup in his hand when he sees her, out of irritance or embarrassment she supposes, but cannot decide between the two. No matter, she thinks, as she is lead once more by his wavering grip out into the garden instead of his old bedroom like the first time.

No words are exchanged yet the frantic desperation between the two is unspoken in words but not in truth. They reach out to each other, his hand on her cheek, thumbing the peach fuzz on the supple skin tinted with arousal gently while her hand moves to the back of his head and combs her fingers through his snow white locks.

Their lust is begrudged for only a moment more before they collide in a frenzy, teeth clacking together inexpertly whilst his hands grasp for her bra strap and successfully remove it on the second attempt. They go slower this time, reaching new places and fondling new areas that bring out strange but oh so welcomed reactions for teenagers born to live their parents' lives.

This time they cum together and it feel special because even though they've just fucked on a pile of leaves in some stranger's backyard, the link betwixt them is thicker somehow; more visible. And this time, as their eyes meet, they kiss. They don't kiss with lust or anticipation, most of it having already been fucked out of each other, but instead they kiss with a deep well of affection that goes so deep that you feel like you're drowning and deep down they know, she knows, that this is something far much more than mutual affection.

And, by the power of some magickal and mystical force, they stark dating the week after.

The third time it's half expected yet not entirely anticipated as they are left with her parents' house for a week, a winter break, they said. And so, with nothing but the shimmer of cheap tinsel, half a fridge full of out of date eggnog and re-runs of Christmas television episodes to keep them company, they make their way upstairs to the guest room as Gilbert leads her by the hand, always in front, always feeling a weight of responsibility, as usual.

It's one of the few months of the year where he's older than her on paper yet never really seems it.

As she's pulled once more onto the soft, downy goose feather duvet atop a springy mattress he takes the lead once more and takes it far slower than she thought possible of him. She thinks she ought to give him more credit sometimes as he peppers her neck with kisses and whispers words of adoration upon her.

But something's not right, and she knows this.

When he leans down to kiss her she cups both her hands to his cheeks and stops him, causing him to pull back as if stung by the action, by the rejection. And she can see it. She can see it all. The fear, the embarrassment, the worry that he's not good enough, the self hatred. On and on and on in a vicious cycle in his precious and teary eyes and before he can tear off away from what he deems as a "disaster" or "failure" since he's "not good enough" she brings her hand back up to his cheek, just like he did in the late summer, with affection and care and love and thumbs away the tears of pent up self loathing there that must have agonised him for years. They well up in his beloved eyes but they don't overflow, they never overflow.

And with a whisper she speaks the way she's always felt, the words she needs him to hear, that he needs to hear. And she whispers tenderly, "Gilbert, Oh my Gilbert. You don't have to be perfect for me, you're perfect to me as you are."

And for the first time in their relationship, words are used, and they're truthful words. And as his gaze falls once more to hers she knows this time they both understand, they understand what they should have understood far long ago. And for the first time that words have been exchanged and understood between them, they finally, well and truly, make love.

~End~