Prussian Courting Rituals

"Hey, Mattie..." Gilbert drawled demandingly, sprawling across Matthew's chocolate brown leather sofa, staring unabashedly at his friend, "Come here a second."

He wiggled his finger in Matt's general direction as the Canadian pushed his vacuum cleaner across his living room floor. Matthew's blonde hair was tied up into a ponytail at the base of his neck, the sleeves of his red sweatshirt rolled back to his elbows. Sweat dribbled in a thin line down his forehead to the curve of his jaw.

Gilbert was lounging on Matt's sofa, watching with a sort of detached interest as his friend – was that the word Matthew was looking for? Could what he and Gilbert have be consider friendship? – went about his chores.  

Now, however, he was waving in Matt's direction, a grin that could only be described as malicious on his pale face. Warily, Matt turned off the vacuum and and turned to face the albino, hands on his hips. "What do you want now, Gilbert? I'm not going to cook pancakes now – it's five in the afternoon; you can't eat those things for every -"

"That's not what I was going to ask for," Gilbert interrupted, smirking lazily as one foot rose up in the air behind his head. "Now get your scrawny butt over here, Mattie, before I make you."

"My butt is not scrawny, eh," Matt protested as he neared the sofa, arms moving to fold over his chest. Gilbert shifted a little to the left and placed one hand under his chest, on the sofa arm, looking up at Matt's face with a warped kind of determination. Matt tilted his head, sending the other Nation a confused look as Gilbert prepared himself to attack. "Hey, what do you think you're-"

Matt's question was cut short as Gilbert suddenly lunged up, and something slick and warm brushed against his forehead. Matt froze, brain processing what had just happened, as his hand slowly traveled upwards. Gilbert settled back down on the sofa with a lazy, triumphant grin adorning his face. Moments ticked by, and Matt's voice finally returned, as hoarse and throaty as it was.

"Did you just lick my eyebrow, Gilbert?" he squeaked out, one hand clamping over the now-wet area. His cheeks were starting to burn crimson red. "Oh, that's gross," he complained, shuddering briefly as Gilbert let out a short bark of laughter. "I'm going to have to sanitize my whole face now, eh! What did you do that for?!"

"I felt like it," Gilbert replied easily, setting back down into the couch and propping his chin up on his hands. The lazy smirk still hadn't left his smug little face, Matt noticed irritably. But then again, Gilbert wasn't the one who had just had his eyebrow spontaneously licked.

Matt sent Gilbert another withering glare through his fingers, before spinning on his heel and stomping away in the direction of the bathroom. Gilbert watched him go for a moment, then hauled himself to his feet with a heavy sigh, trotting after his friend.

Matt was scrubbing at his face with a washcloth when Gilbert appeared in the bathroom's doorway. The Canadian stopped his incessant scrubbing long enough to say, "I am diseased now," before the washcloth returned, moving even more briskly than before. Gilbert could almost hear the skin cells being peeled off, one at a time.

Gilbert watched in amusement as his friend lathered up with washcloth with even more soap. Matt's face was already fiery red from the constant scrubbing, his damp bangs plastered to his shining forehead. "You know, I don't have rabies. I'm too awesome for that," Gilbert commented lackadaisically as he leaned against the door frame.

Matt's voice was muffled by the washcloth when he spoke. "What, was licking someone's eyebrow some weird courting ritual in Prussia or something? You express your affections by licking their forehead?"

"Actually, no," Gilbert said cheerfully, "Everyone just dry-humped each other in the street. Saved a whole lotta time."

Matt choked as he inhaled the corner edge of the washcloth and quite a bit of soap. Gilbert raised an eyebrow in amusement and partly out of confusion when Matt bent double, foaming at the mouth as he coughed.

"Maybe I don't have rabies, but you certainly look like you do," he informed Matt as the Canadian stood again, heavily flushed and breathing erratic. Matt scowled at him as he brushed his sopping wet bangs away from his crimson face.

"I can never tell if you're joking or not," Matt replied as he squeezed by Gilbert, heading back out into the living room. Gilbert trailed after him like a lost puppy. "Were you joking?" Matt added on, twisting his neck to look at Gilbert as they walked into the kitchen.

Gilbert shrugged, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the counter. "About the dry humping?" He grinned, showing his canine teeth. "Mostly."

Matt had been opening the cupboards, trying to find things to start making dinner with, but at Gilbert's words, he let out a tiny shriek of surprise and dropped a box of flour on the floor. It burst on impact, covering Matt with the fine, flaky white powder. Gilbert began to cackle, arms wrapped around his waist as he bent double.

"It's not funny!" Matt shrieked, failing his arms around and sending up a cloud of flour into the air. He couldn't see through his glasses – flour covered them like winter frost. "Dah! Quit doing that, Gilbert, eh!"

"I didn't do anything," Gilbert managed to force out in-between giggles, "You just overreact to everything I say." He tilted his face up, and smiled winningly at Matt, who faltered for just one moment, caught off-guard by how unexpectedly beautiful Gilbert looked when he was smiling from something other than having his ego blown up even more so or than by carrying out a successful trick.

But looking beautiful wasn't going to be enough to save Gilbert now. His face split by an uncharacteristically evil grin, Matt picked up his last remaining bag of flour – making a mental note to remember to run out and buy some more – and carefully took aim, and fired.

The bag flew perfectly through the air, flour falling out like flakes of snow in it's flight. Gilbert was too busy laughing to notice, still wearing that absurdly beautiful smile he wore before, and therefore did not see the flying flour bag until it had landed on his head, exploding on impact and making the albino – who was already as white as a sheet – paler than ever before.

It was Matt's turn to laugh now, and laugh he did, collapsing to the floor as his body shook. Gilbert was incredulous, his face fixed in an expression of denial and disbelief as the flour settled onto his muscular frame.

"You are so going to get it now, blondie," he growled, before leaping in Matt's direction and commencing to tickle the Canadian mercilessly. Matt's breathing was coming in short puffs, head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

This makes up for not being noticed by the other Nations, Matt decided as Gilbert grabbed Matt's ankles and dragged him back to the living room, where he dumped the smaller Nation onto the sofa and began to cover him with blankets and pillows, fighting to make sure none of Matt was showing. Both were laughing as Matt fought to return to the world of light as Gilbert stuffed another blanket around him.

Even though the others can't see me, Matt thought, even though Gilbert isn't a Nation any more, it doesn't matter.

Because we will still have this, no matter what.