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Feliciano wasn't quite sure when exactly he got roped into this.
“Your birthday is when?? Why didn’t you tell me!” the Italian exclaimed. Ludwig looked almost embarrassed.
“It’s not really that big of a deal..” He murmured to himself.
“It is!” came the reply.
Feliciano couldn’t believe it. He had been dating Ludwig for many months now, and it never occurred to him that Ludwig hadn’t even told him when his birthday was.
“I need to prepare! I need to buy you gifts, hold a party–” He proclaimed, now pacing in circles. A slight pink tint crept up to Ludwigs face, as he furrowed his eyebrows slightly in his boyfriend's direction.
“That ist really not needed–” He started, before getting abruptly cut off.
“I’ll need to buy decorations, some banners here and there. Maybe get a cute little Pinata? Do you think Mexico could make a custom one, in the shape of beer or a potato maybe—?”
“Feliciano!” Ludwig called, grabbing his boyfriend by the shoulders to bring him back to earth. He swallowed. “While I.. I appreciate your efforts.., my birthday has usually always been celebrated with my family.. So any plans you made, you’re going to have to discuss it with them”
Feliciano grinned, a smile widening across his entire face. Ludwig could swear the man sometimes had a little blanket of light around him, with the way he radiated joy and warmth.
“Ve!~ Really, Really Doitsu? You’ll let me plan your birthday? Grazie! Grazie! You won’t regret it, I swear!” Feliciano enveloped his slender arms around the German’s neck. He bounced sporadically up and down, kissing Ludwig’s cheek.
“I-” Ludwig blinked, taken back. Reluctantly, he returned the hug, confused as to why Feliciano of all people would be so eager to leap at the prospect of planning a birthday with the German’s family.
It wasn’t the planning aspect that baffled Ludwig; Feli loved organizing certain events like parties ( god forbid he use that vehemence in training or at holding meetings). But rather, Ludwig was bewildered as to why Feliciano was excited despite knowing who he had to plan the party with.
“If.. If you say so–” Ludwig sighed, giving in. Who knows what goes on inside the Italian’s mind? Despite the clamor Feliciano was roaring into his ear (Did he say something about making it pasta themed–?) Ludwig caved in, as he always did with Feliciano.
“You’re going to love it, Ludwig!”
──────
Feliciano looked up at the German's house, intrepid as ever as he stood in front of the door. A lovely shade of amber fell upon the house, as the sun was gradually setting, its liquid gold pouring atop the landscape.
He made sure Ludwig begrudgingly promised to stay holed up in his bedroom the day before his birthday, so he could spend the evening decorating his house as a surprise. He held bags in his hands, full of streamers and balloons and such, all vivid and almost lurid in colour. There was even a pinata in the shape of beer! (Ludwig drew the line at pasta themed decor, boo .)
But most importantly, it had cake ingredients.
Feliciano was ecstatic; he had to make a cake! What's a birthday without a cake? So after a long week of research, buying supplies and whatnot, Feliciano was finally ready.
‘I could have sworn Ludwig mentioned family to me the other day, something about.. Having to do this with them?’ Feliciano idly recalled to himself, as he lifted his finger to buzz the bell.
Turn went the gears inside Feliciano’s head.
Right, family. Ludwig’s family.
Turn, turn.
He’d been so preoccupied, that he hadn’t had the time to think about it.
Crank, turn, turn.
Well. Now that he was thinking about it…
Huh. Ludwig’s family. Ludwig’s only family.
Click!
“GILBERT!?”
“JA JA, I AM COMING! ” a dramatic, stringent voice was heard hollering from inside the house. A voice he knew all too well.
After a series of shuffles and thuds could be heard from inside the house, the sylvan door swung open with an incredible force presenting the lanky, toothy grinned albino Gilbert. With a smile that could only be described as psyched, the white skinned man gleamed at Feliciano’s direction.
“Aren’t you so stoked to have me, the most awesome-est Gilbert, helping you with West’s birthday today!”
It was at that moment, Ludwig from the isolated room of his far far away could have sworn he heard a Feliciano sounding object collapsing upon the floor.
“Vhat... just happened..?”
──────
“I think that vas an overreaction..” Gilbert sighed to himself, handing the Italian a glass of water after he had come to his senses. The pair sat in the living room.
“You don’t get it, Gilbert! You’re totally incompetent when it comes to this kind of stuff!” Feliciano cried, blowing into a tissue.
“Am not!”
“Yes you are! Ve, don't you remember the year it was your time to host the annual christmas eve party, and the day had ended up as a total disaster!”
“Was not!”
“You gave me and Ludwig a BABY Gilbert. You walked up to us, baby in hands, and said “Hey West! Merry Christmas, you’re a dad now!””
Gilbert, rolling his eyes, crossed his arms. “Vhatever! Zat vas a sick present, und you know it!” he argued, recalling the day. Ah, what a christmas party. It took 2 weeks for the nations to look him in the eyes again. Maybe that was partly due to the fact when a drunk Gilbert almost set the tree on fire when England told him his fairy friends lived there.
“You didn’t even know where the baby came from! Ludwig spent the entire night calling each government agency” Feliciano shuddered, burying his face in his hands. “I had to babysit the poor child. It was a horrible way to spend Christmas eve!” he wailed, recounting the horrors.
“Ja but, the baby’s parents were found, and everything turned out ok! And I, the awesome Gilbert, vas known forever as the best party host!”
“NO ONE CALLS YOU THAT!”
Feliciano sighed. What could he do now? He naively brought this upon himself. And now, he was Gilberts’ partner in crime.
No matter! Feliciano could still make this work!
With a determined expression, Feliciano clapped his hands and sat up. “Gilbert, Let’s do this! I won't let this go wrong in any way possible! You set up the streamers and the pinata, you’re tall enough to reach– while I set aside the cake ingredients!”. Gilbert nodded dutifully, he could work with the decoration! If he’s so superb at cleaning and organizing, this couldn't be so different. And, if he does it fast enough, he can help Feliciano make the cake!
“Ja, let’s do this!”
—-------
After some painstaking hours of placing the decor, Ludwig's living room had already gone from a polished, dull environment into one with vibrant colours everywhere in hues of black, red and yellow. Crimson balloons filled with helium bounced along the ceiling, colliding with one another while the Pinata hung, practically begging Gilbert to break it open. Gilbert wouldn’t lie: Feliciano had put some thought into this.
Although Gilbert initially was assigned the role of decorating the place, Feliciano after laying out the ingredients decided to come help him instead, which offended Gilbert slightly. Seriously? He knows how to decorate! Just because his way of clothing sucks (Romano once shrieked in horror when he saw Gilbert wearing a “I paused my game to be here” shirt to a restaurant), doesn’t mean he can't decorate.
Now, the two of them stood in front of the kitchen counter. It had been dark for ages outside, and Gilbert could hear crickets chirping away. Here came the last thing they needed to do: the cake.
“Okay, what does the first step say, Feliciano?”
“Umm, right, it says first we need to sieve together the dry ingredients in a large bowl!”
Gilbert starts opening up the flour packets and measuring them– he notes the recipe says ¾ of a cup, but it's okay if he accidentally poured a little more than necessary into the bowl, right?
Everything was going well. Feliciano distributes the baking soda and the salt across evenly, and sieves through the heap just as the recipe had said.
“Gilbert? Open the cocoa powder for me and put it in, will you?” Feliciano asked. Gilbert grabs the packet, and pulls at the plastic to tear it– huh? Why isn't it opening?
Gilbert frowned. He gave it another tug, but to no avail: it wouldn't budge. It’s plastic for Gott's sake, he's gone through wars , he can rip up packaging!
Feeling frustrated, at his last straw, Gilbert pulled the package apart with all his might: Until it exploded.
“Gilbert!” Feliciano squawked, coughing violently as the fine brown dust started entering his oesophagus, and quite possibly, his air passage. “Dio mio!” his eyes watered, refusing to budge open as it meant only more powder would settle in his eyes.
Gilbert, in the meanwhile in all his coolness, started swatting the cloud of cocoa surrounding the two like it were the 1800s and he had a sword in his hands again.
“Ow! OW! Did you just swat me!?” Feliciano yelped. “VE DONT HIT MEEEE! DON'T HIT ME ILLDOANYTHINGDONTHITME–”
Gilbert, taking a pause from attacking the non-existent enemy in the clouds, blinked erratically to get the dust out of his eyes.
The duo looked at each other. Gilbert’s normal ivory hair was now speckled with traces of brown, and so was the white counter, which had got a good half of the cocoa. Most of the powder had fallen into the bowl, thankfully. He thinks.
“That was our only packet of cocoa powder.” The Prussian stated, looking at the battlefield of a kitchen. “But that's okay! West can handle a slightly chocolate cake instead of a whole chocolate cake!” He shrugged, taking a moment to brush his finger against the powder that enveloped his arm and licked the dust. A mistake.
Looking scandalized, Feliciano shook his head. “I’ll show you how to properly do this! I’ve been cooking for years! Someone needs to make a cake!”
And with complete utter confidence, Feliciano grabbed an egg from the carton box, and—
Crack!
It seems like Feliciano had overcalculated how hard the impact the egg had with the edge of the metal bowl. Because one moment Gilbert saw an egg– shining, white and quintessential of an egg in all ways and form– the next, he saw a pile of golden goop, shell bits and all, plopping onto the batter.
He gawked.
“Mein gott, und I’m the one who doesn’t know how to make a cake!? ” Gilbert exploded into fits of laughter, latching onto his stomach as he bent over, unable to comprehend the absurdity of it all. Feliciano in the meanwhile, had tried scooping out the shattered shell pieces with his hands, but unfortunately for the poor soul, ended up knocking over the bag of sugar in the process.
“I can't do this–” He calmed himself down, only to erupt like a dynamite yet again regaining his laughter.
“Waaaah! This is going HORRIBLE!” the brunet teared up, limpid waters welling in his eyes as his shoulders fell. Scattered sugar grains were sprawled across the floor. His fingers were sticky with yolk goop.
Upon realising the Italian was crying, Gilbert’s laughter died in his throat, and looked a bit more awkward now. He nervously poked Feliciano, unsure of what to do. Scheiße , he was looking forward to spending some time with someone that wasn't his mirror, brother, the dogs, or Gilbird!
Rubbing the back of his neck, he attempted clumsily reassuring the Italian.
Selected: “Reassurance”
“Don't worry, little Italian! We can fix this! Like– Like maybe if we blend it all super fast, he won’t even feel the eggshell– Or, or we can gaslight Ludwig into thinking that there’s nothing wrong with the cake and he’s making it all up! Ja?” Gilbert pats the smaller one’s shoulder comfortingly.
Hiccups. “-50HP dealt to Gilbert!”
Okay, not that then…
Selected: “Joke”
“It’s not that bad!-- West can handle some texture, like a real man! He has been in 2 world wars worth of stale ration, so surely he can scarf down our mess!” He grins with confidence he doesn’t quite have.
Teary eyes look up. “Critical hit! -100HP dealt to Gilbert!”
Nevermind.
Selected: “Coming from the heart”
“Look, Feliciano–” Gilbert chokes out, his ears reddening. He was never really one for these kinds of sappy things.
Throwing his hands in the air, he blurts: “I’m sure West wouldn’t mind, he knows that we tried our best! I’m sure he’d be excited alone knowing that the cake came from you! Well, uh, und me. But mostly you! He’s so smitten with you, that I'm sure you could give him dog food and he’d eat it for you! So don’t worry, and if he doesn't, I’ll–” He pauses, unsure of where he was going.
“If he doesn’t, I’ll eat it all and blog about how good your cake was with 5 stars!” Gilbert concludes, weary of whether his words made Feliciano happy or if he may have just possibly made his brother’s boyfriend hate him forever.
A giggle. “Full HP returned to Gilbert!”
“Battle won!”
Feeling like the world’s weight was lifted off his shoulders, the Prussian sighed in relief. “Isn't zhat better! Now stop crying, we still have a cake to complete!”
Feliciano nodded weakly, a small smile growing on his face. Rising up together, the pair scooped up an appropriate amount of sugar and mixed it into the bowl.
After all the chaos had subsided, Feliciano and Gilbert finally gingerly placed their pan into the oven. Peering into the glowing ochre light, they watched as their batter became one with the heat.
“Now, we just need to wait for half an hour!” The albino voiced, his shoulders sagging with comfort. Is baking seriously his little bruder’s coping mechanism for stress? It’s way more stressful than anything Gilbert has been through!
“In the meanwhile, we can start making the frosting!” Feliciano settled, getting out the sugar.
──────
Some time had passed. Making the buttercream frosting was easy enough, and had not resulted in a major disaster of sorts like the previous cake did.
Feliciano and Gilbert gleamed at the bowl packed with the silky, velvety cream. An array of colours stood in front of them: when the cake is done baking, they can decorate the cake however they’d like! Of course, the pair had very contrasting ideas as to what should be drawn on the cake. Gilbert believed drawing mochi Germany on a motorcycle with flamethrowers behind it would be sick, whereas Feliciano believed painting Ludwig as a courageous, mighty knight on a mountain of pasta would suit him better.
“Whatever! We’ll just do fifty-fifty! You get one side of the cake, while I get the other” Gilbert suggested, crossing his arms. Feliciano, taking a moment to think it through, nodded along. It was decided then!
Now, the kitchen was filled with a relatively peaceful type of silence.
‘We still had some time till the timer for the cake will ding’ Gilbert considered, getting his phone out of his pocket as he took a picture of the eyesore of humanity that was the kitchen counter. He’ll clean it up, later— right now, he has to update the status of his mission to Francis!
──────
Private chat: Francy-pants (Francis🇫🇷)
Gilbert: [sent an image]
Gilbert: So, we may have made a mess.
Francy-pants: Mon Dieu! I can’t say i'm not surprised
Francy-pants: Have you gathered any of your “useful information”?
Francy-pants: I feel like it’s pretty dumb, I mean, Gilbert if you wanted to know how to make Romano like you more you could have just asked Antonio!
Gilbert: It’s not the same! I know Ludwig better than anyone, so “happy-go-lucky” Feliciano here should be the same for Romano!
Gilbert: And no. I haven’t asked him yet.
Francy-pants: You aren’t nervous, are you?
Gilbert: ME? NERVOUS?
Gilbert: Please, Francis.
Gilbert: I’m way too cool to be nervous! I’m just waiting for the right opportunity!
Gilbert: HAHAHHAHA
Gilbert: .
Gilbert : But um. Say, if I was nervous. How should I ask him?
Francy-pants : Hmm. Well, be casual about it i suppose
Francy-pants : Maybe first talk about something you like, and then steer the conversation towards Romano smoothly
Francy-pants : And most of all: Don’t make it all about you! I’ve known you and Feliciano for many years mon amie, and i’m telling you if you fumble this he’ll easily be able to infer your feelings to his brother!
Gilbert: 😎👍
Gilbert : I have no idea what you’re talking about, I never make things about me!
Francy-pants: Hohoho, very funny Gilbert
Francy-pants: .
Francy-pants : You are joking, non?
Francy-pants: Gilbert?
Francy-pants: Tell me you’re joking.
──────
Gilbert smirked, locking his phone away.
Okay Gilbert, you can do this! Pfft, What was Francis talking about? I have nothing to worry! I’m the awesome Prussia, and I can handle talking to my brother’s boyfriend so I can move one step closer to asking out my brother’s boyfriend’s brother!
That’s not weird, is it?
No, vhaaaaat! absolutely not!
Gilbert made an internal to-do list in his brain, as he made his way to the counter where Feliciano was obliviously whisking away buttercream. The air clung to sweet and sugar, encasing the whole room that was sure to suffocate an ordinary man.
Gilbert cleared his throat.
“Hah.. So, West’s birthday, huh?”
Feliciano brightened up, looking at the albino as he took a moment to dip his finger into the frosting and have a lick. That couldn’t possibly be sanitary.
“Hmm? Oh, yes! Ludwig’s birthday! I really do hope he likes our cake..” he trailed off, eyes dashing nervously towards the monstrosity of a birthday cake brewing up in the oven.
Gilbert beamed. ‘ Be casual: check!’
Okay, so far so good!
“Ja, Ja but um… Cakes. You ever make those for other people, perhaps?”
“Huh? Sure I do, I guess! Although I'm more of an expert at pasta.” Feliciano hummed.
Gilbert grinned, leaning against the counter. “Really? Say, have you ever made a cake for.. err, Romano perhaps?”
Feliciano perked up, smiling: “Totally! He loves cakes in fact! He doesn’t tell anyone, but I think he’s got a bit of a sweet tooth.”
‘Steer conversation towards Romano effortlessly: check!’
Great, keep it going Gilbert! You’re doing amazing! Now, for the last task…
Gilbert coughed, his mind rummaging through a dictionary as to what to say next.
“Oh he likes cakes, does he? Well, does he like–”
He paused. He’s never made it this far in his fantasies. Usually, it includes him, without a hitch, successfully throwing Romano off by how cool and awesome he is, to the point where he immediately leaps into Gilbert’s hands and they go off riding on a motorcycle towards the sunset or whatever sappy shit West and his boyfriend do in their free time.
But now that he was actually here, in reality, asking Feliciano about his crush—Gilbert felt a dose of panic run through him.
His brain had officially shut down.
──────
Inside: Prussia’s Committee of Body Operations (PCBO)
Heart: Oh mein gott! What do we do! The brain is down!!
Stomach : Okay, everyone stay calm! We just, ummm, need someone to take over! I feel like I'm going to hurl– do you think you can do it, limbs?
Limbs : Me? Do what, punch him? I can do that!
Heart: No way!! We can’t punch Feliciano, stupid! We like Feliciano!
Stomach : Guys, maybe we should PUKE!!!!!!!
Nerves: WTF! NO! ugh WAIT GUYS HOLD ON! We need to say SOMETHING! We look stupid right now!
Eyes : Yeah! He’s looking at us weird!
Mouth: DON'T WORRY GUYS! I GOT THIS!
Heart: OK! GOOD LUCK, SOLDIER MAKE US PROUD!
[PCBO erupts in a wave of cheer, as drums start rolling and horns blare and confetti cascades and–]
──────
Gilbert blurted: “DOES HE LIKE MEN!?”
[Silence. A singular tear is shed from Eyes.]
Feliciano deadpanned at him.
The oven ticked, pausing for a second like it also couldn’t believe what it heard.
Gilbert felt a bead of cold sweat roll off his neck as he physically saw his soul leaving his body to fly down.
“I MEANT– I didn't mean that– does he, you know, like awesome guys —?”
Feliciano blinked. An opened bag of sprinkles fell from his hands onto the counter, and cascaded down onto the floor in pitter-patter.
The oven ticked.
“Not that– not that i’m suggesting I’m the awesome guy Romano could like— HAHAHA but I AM a pretty awesome guy of course, but–”
Awkward silence spoke volumes in the suddenly claustrophobic room.
“Gilbert. Do you.. like my brother…—?”
‘Don't make Feliciano realise you have a crush on his brother: Failed.’
Abort mission! Retreat! CANCEL THE WHOLE MISSION!
Gilbert choked on nothing, other than the embarrassment that was creeping up his air passage. Oh gott. He was never going to live this down from Antonio and Francis, will he? He could already see it. For the next 50 years or so, he’s basically never going to be able to win any argument with this finishing humbling blow.
“Me? With THAT sour brunet? Don't be ridiculous, Feli–”
“You do like him!”
Feliciano had a strange mix of horror and disbelief plastered on his face. Gilbert winced, spinning on his heels to not even look at the direction of the Italian.
“You like my brother! MY brother! Oh mio dio Gilbert, how could you!”
“It’s not my fault, okay! Leave it!” He scrambled, face falling miserably into his hands.
“I mean, it's not that it's you liking my brother that’s the problem- but he’s Romano. He hates you!”
“Ja, but—”
“I mean, just last week he openly said with disdain how much he hates your ‘stupid, ridiculous, eyesore of a bird face!’”
“Okay, I think I got it,” Gilbert murmured grudgingly to the floor, who was increasingly becoming his new best friend.
“Seriously Gilbert, if he found out, he’d probably yell a bunch, freak out, and throw a tomato at you!”
Oh, that's probably true.
“ I don’t know what to do Feli!” He choked out, slamming his face onto the marble counter. “My original plan was to 1, Hangout with you while making the cake, 2, ask you discretely what he’d like in a potential partner and finally 3, successfully ask him out!” his voice rang out, muffled by the marble “I thought it was gonna be perfect!”
“Maybe if Ludwig could help–” was the only thing Feliciano could put across before the albino, with speeds even he wasn't sure he could do, lunged at him to grip his shoulders. His eye twitched.
“Feliciano Vargas, I forbid you from doing such a thing! I’ve already dug myself a hole deeper in the past 5 minutes than I have in an entire century. The last thing I need is my little brother standing over my grave while I dig!”
He could already picture the exasperated look on West’s face as he buries himself into his grave.
The oven dinged.
The duo turned their heads, startled, to cast a glance at the glistening golden.
“You keep your lips sealed, okay Vargas? Can you keep this a secret from West?” The Prussian pleaded menacingly, which Feliciano may have felt more scared at in the moment if not for the enormous red tint on the pale skinned face making it obvious. He couldn't figure out if the man was trying to threaten him or fall upon his knees begging. Nevertheless, Feliciano nodded hastily, eyes as wide as a fish out of water.
Calm and tranquilised, Gilbert let out a sigh of relief.
‘Okay, Everything’s fine! Feliciano will keep hush about this, and West won’t ever find out!’
──────
‘Oh my GOD! I’m TERRIBLE AT KEEPING SECRETS! WHY WOULD GILBERT ENTRUST THIS TO ME!’ came a bellowed, shrieking voice deep inside Feliciano’s mind. He smiled with a strain, as a trail of sweat treacherously made its way down his spine.
Gilbert, unbeknownst to the internal monologue going on in the poor Italian’s head, rushed over to grab the cake out of the oven. Donning a pair of cotton mitts, he cautiously held it and put it on top of the counter, alongside the assortments of frosting awaiting.
The cake didn't look half bad. More like, 3/4ths bad. It smelled pretty inviting though, as the two avariciously basked in the warmth of the pastry.
“Now that that’s out of the way.. Time for the decorating, huh Feliciano!?” the pale man hollered, swooping his hand onto Feliciano’s back to give a generous pat (although if you ask Feliciano about it later, it was more akin to a slap), eliciting a yelp from the shorter one.
Rolling up his sleeves, the Italian gulped. Okay, he can do this! If he could concentrate on art, then he wouldn't ever have to think about revealing Gilbert’s secret to Ludwig! He’ll just, never look at Ludwig’s eyes the same ever again! Yes!!
Seizing a piping bag, he gets to work.
Masterfully, the resplendent Feliciano flicks his hand gracefully as his delicate fingers trace over the bag, his artistic intellect taking over him as he with much fervour, sculpted an artwork upon the canvas of a cake akin to Michelangelo sculpting David, with blotches of coruscant frosting illuminating the cake, brightening it up immediately.
Gilbert slapped some lurid, possibly the most eye vomit of a colour of frosting which was available, onto the dessert.
With decades of colour theory being put to use, Feliciano illustrated a Ludwig onto the mural, etching out all his sinuous muscles and his silky, tamed flaxen locks of hair. His azure eyes are not just being on his face as a show– no, more like a window. It told the world of Ludwig’s personality as a whole, his ethos, his soul—
Gilbert uses his pinky finger to engrave a smiling stick man on the layer of cream.
“What is that?” Feliciano finally chokes out, unable to ignore the sight of monstrosity in front of his eyes any longer.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Is that supposed to be a person?”
“What? Of course! That's me, all cool and everything, with an explosion in the background!”
“Who are you holding in your arms?”
“West! Obviously.”
“Ludwig isn't a damsel in distress that needs saving from his brother! I don't remember him wearing a gown”
“Well, he’s not a knight in shining armour either! Seriously, you made him look like Prince Charming! If Prince Charming was in a Renaissance nightmare..”
Feliciano gasped, feigning mild offense. “You take that back! Your drawing looks like a five year old drew it! At least mine has skill put into it” he huffed, hands on his hips. Gilbert rolled his eyes, “Whatever Michelangelo” he snapped back. “I mean, he barely even looks like Ludwig! Why does he look like he’s about to burst into a folk song yodelling about birds and shit?”
Feliciano’s eyes meet his masterpiece, a masterpiece of Ludwig who looked like he was suspiciously about to frolic and twirl into the hills. Maybe Gilbert was right.
Barking a laugh, the albino carries on. “Where’s his scowl? His atmosphere of disappointment?” . Crossing his arms, Feliciano retorted back. “Ve, He does smile you know!”
“As if! Name me one time we’ve seen Ludwig genuinely blissful!”
Like a lightbulb had flickered on, Feliciano began to sigh dreamily as if recalling a reverie.
“Ve~ Well, you’ve never seen it, but when Ludwig’s under me in bed at night and he [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] –”
The Prussian man’s soul visibly left his body again.
For the second time that night.
As if he couldn't get any paler, he's always somehow proven wrong.
On instinct, he slaps Feliciano’s lips shut with the might of a desperate man, hissing a rapid fire of “Nein! Nein!” his grating voice cracking "Why would anyone want to hear that!?”
Suddenly in the midst of his yowling, he winced as his eyes squinted against something intrusive, interrupting the team.
Gentle light had lanced through the curtains. Suddenly, the question of ‘What time is it?’ hung heavy in the room. Gilbert glances at their kitchen’s clock.
Okay, still relatively early. West shouldn't be up yet. Did they seriously spend the whole night doing this? Time really does fly…
Feliciano, also only now realizing this fact, yawns groggily as he rubs his eyes. The room falls into a peaceful quiet hum.
“Ve~ It’s time to surprise him! Let's go wake him up, huh Gilbert?”
──────
Ludwig has not been able to fall asleep in hours.
Still as a board, he lies on his bed stiff, arms diligently not straying away from his sides. He blinks slowly, dazed, staring at his ceiling like he’s been doing for the past hour or so.
For what felt like decades, he’s had to listen to muffled yellings and distant eruptions from his brother and his boyfriend downstairs. He couldn’t even decipher what they were saying after a certain point, and hadn’t tried to anyways. What in hell were they doing that elicited so much noise?
But, like his prayers were finally answered, like God finally had decided to end him of his tormented turmoil, the voices came to a stop. If he was a smarter, well slept man, maybe he’d stop himself to question why. But instead, he thought to himself absentmindedly, ‘Finally.’
His heavy, drooping eyes sagged down before he knew it, his tense shoulders melted into the bedsheet gloriously, offering sweet sanctuary.
Outside his door, whispered two enthusiastic nations.
“Ve~ Is the black ski mask really necessary, Gilbert?”
“Of course! We want to blend in with the darkness, otherwise he’ll catch us before we can even yell surprise, Ja?”
The said two enthusiastic nations were dressed in all black, head to toe. Only two cut out holes for eyelids on the mask could be used to deduce who was who. Piercing red eyes held the marvelous cake, while amber eyes held a plastic birthday party horn, with red polka dots upon white.
“Hey, that’s actually kind of smart Gilbert! Okay, if you say so!”
On the count of three, the Prussian burst the door open with an extraordinary amount of force for someone at 5 am.
“SURPRISE!” he squawked, grinning ear to ear (although, of course it wasn't seen under the ski mask) while the Italian blew with all his willpower into the plastic birthday horn, eliciting a shrill joyous “PFFFTTT!”.
Ludwig’s fight or flight activated. Like he’d been transported decades back and just heard a grenade pin drop, he springs awake. His eyes dart with precision across the room, still blurry from his sleep deprivation.
‘Oh mein Gott, it’s happening: I’m getting burgled.’
Acting on instinct, he grabs the nearest intruder he sees–– Unfortunately for Feliciano, that was him —and slams his entire body to the floor, pulling his trained arms up to choke the burglar.
Gilbert, cake still in hands, stills as his jaw drops witnessing the scene undergo in 3 seconds.
Another ear splitting, panic induced “PFFFFTTTT!! PFFFTTT!!!!” from the party horn penetrates the room from Feliciano as his legs and arms flay recklessly.
They say, when you’re dying, the best 7 minutes of your life replay in your head. Feliciano can confirm none of this.
What should has been montages of his moments with holy roman empire, Ludwig and Kiku, and plenty of girls with pasta, was instead replaced with a vivid hallucination of Gilbert slipping a wedding ring into Romano’s finger, whispering “Don't tell West” before the new couple drive off in a cliche “just married!” car.
The sound of rattling cans hitting the road were the last things Feliciano heard in his brain, before finally breaking.
Spitting out the party horn rapidly, he cried
“DON’T HURT ME! DON'T HURT ME LUDWIG PLEASEEE I’LL DO ANYTHING GILBERT WANTS TO GET WITH ROMANO AND HE TOLD ME TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I CAN'T HIDE THINGS FROM YOU PLEASE DON'T HURT ME I'M SORRY I WONT DO IT AGAIN–”
And suddenly, the grip on his throat was lessened briskly. Ludwig, blinking promptly as if trying to makeout the figure in his hold, looked like he got shot in the stomach.
“Feliciano? Are you wearing a ski mask?”
Roaring cries still echoed in the room. “LET’S GET MARRIED LUDWIG I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE IF THOSE TWO GET MARRIED BEFORE WE DO I’LL CRY AND CRY AND CRY LUDWIG PLEASEEE—”
Gilbert almost dropped the cake. Almost.
He was about to hiss out a incredulous remark, probably in disbelief on how fast it took for Feliciano to confess his secret, before Ludwig slowly and mechanically turned his head to look at him. That sealed his mouth back shut.
“Gilbert. What are you two doing in my room, at 5 am, wearing ski masks?”
“We– we wanted to surprise you West! Hahaha! Happy birthday! Surprise.. Haha…”
Feliciano, finally deflated with no more power left in his voice to cry, clung to Ludwig’s side and smothered the poor shell shocked man's cheek with apologetic kisses.
“Veee!~ I'm so sorry Ludwig, Happy birthday! We thought a surprise would be nice… We even made a cake!!” he nervously pecked at his lover’s face.
Gilbert shifted his hands to reveal the cake.
One side was Ludwig as a dashing knight in armour in the woods while the other side had Ludwig clinging onto Gilbert’s chest looking like a distressed princess.
“Do you like it?” Feliciano and Gilbert asked together in an instant simultaneously.
Sighing, the German replied “It’s… very creative. J—Ja , I love it”.
Beaming, the two smiled with victory, their exhausting yet fruitful night finally over.
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Later that day, a small party of Ludwig’s closest friends and countries were lingering around the house. Some had drinks in their hands chatting with each other, others were biting into their cake slices (‘Did you guys feel a crunch in your cake?’).
The night had a flowing casual atmosphere of peace.
Once Ludwig had finally finished shaking hands with his boss and associates, repeating the phrases of “Thank you Sir” and “You’re so kind Ma’am”, he finally slouched down on his couch, paper plate with cake in hand.
Feliciano and Gilbert came up behind him.
“Ludwig!! Do you like the party?” his boyfriend chirped. And surprisingly, he wondered to himself, that yes, he did.
It wasn’t obnoxiously loud or full of intoxicated adults like he could have expected from Gilbert, nor was it ridiculously themed and hadn't ended with Feliciano needing help from Ludwig himself like he could have expected from Feliciano.
“Of course he does! It’s awesome!” came the Prussian voice, priding himself at his decor work.
“Speaking of awesome … What was it that I heard this morning about you and something about a crush on Romano, Gil?” Ludwig offered, slicing his cake into a small piece, staring directly into his brother’s eyes; shutting him up.
“Vee~ I was serious though, Ludwig! Do you want to get married? If Gilbert and Romano overtake us I don't know what I'd do… Let's get married soon Ludwig!” Feliciano proclaimed a bit too loudly.
He kind of forgot that in order for Gilbert to wed Romano, Romano needs to first not detest him.
Ludwig chewed his cake piece a bit too quickly on the mention of marriage, now shutting himself up as a big obvious pink climbed up his neck, Ignoring the fact that the piece he just bit off was his own head from Feliciano’s disney-like portrait.
A distant “Do you like the cake?” could just almost be heard as Ludwig zoned out, munching on the unique dessert in his mouth.
A crunch. Kind of too spongy in texture. A generous amount of sugar, like it wasnt measured. The taste of cocoa was only faintly there.
He could feel the pair’s anticipating eyes from behind his back.
“It’s perfect. Ja, I really love it. Best cake I've ever tasted in my life. You’ll have to teach me sometime how you two did this.”
He heard Feliciano and Gilbert high five behind him, and he smiled to himself softly.