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Gilbert knew Elizabeta was his forever girl the moment she almost concussed him with a frying pan. Well, technically, it was her fourth attempt.
“What the hell are you doing on my windowsill?” she barked, standing in her apron, pan in hand like a medieval mace.
Gilbert grinned, upside down, hanging half inside her kitchen. “Just dropping by for a little quality time with my favorite violent woman~”
“I will brain you,” she said sweetly, lifting the pan again.
He flipped in like a gymnast and landed on his feet. “Too late! I’m already crazy about you.”
She sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Gilbert, if this is another excuse to steal strudel, I swear-”
“No strudel today!” he said, hands up in surrender. “Only compliments. And maybe a serenade if you ask nicely.”
Elizabeta rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. “You're impossible.”
“And yet so charming.”
---
Later, in the garden
Elizabeta was tending to her herbs, humming a soft Hungarian lullaby to herself as she swayed from side to side. Gilbert was lounging nearby with sunglasses and a glass of soda, pretending not to watch her. He was trying quite hard not to remind himself of how gorgeous she looked as the rays of sun gleaming on her slightly tanned expression, highlighting her deep eyes, her sharp nose, her peachy lips he'd always been thinking about...
He violently shook himself awake and stared at the reflection in the glass, finding himself gawking at the unpleasant blush of red forming on his pale skin. "Verdammt...not like I seriously think she's c-cute, or whatever..." He blew out a huff and stared back up at the brunette.
“You missed a spot,” he said, teasingly gesturing to the rosemary.
“You missed a decade of relevance,” she shot back. “Oof!” he clutched his heart. “Right in the ego.”
“You don’t have one. You are one.” He grinned. “See, this is why I love you.” She paused. “You what me?”
“I said love your sass!” he lied quickly, winking. “What did you think I said, meine Königin~?”
Elizabeta flushed. “I think you need to get your ears checked.”
“I think you need to admit I’m your favorite visitor.”
“I think you’re delusional.”
“But adorable?” She threw a glove at his face.
He caught it dramatically and pressed it to his chest. “I’ll treasure this forever.”
---
The Accident (That Was Totally On Purpose)
Gilbert “accidentally” knocked over a flower pot in the back yard. Seriously, he was always trying out the most childish crap to get her attention. Elizabeta sighed as he sheepishly picked up the mess.
“You owe me new soil.”
“I’ll buy you a whole field,” he declared. “With a gazebo. And a bench with our initials carved in.”
She snorted. “That’s the most romantic offer you’ve made this week.”
He looked up at her from the ground. “Wait, this week? So you do keep track.”
She froze. “I-what, no!”
He beamed. “Caught you.”
She rolled her eyes and huffed out as she bent over to pick up a piece of porcelain close to her. She knows it's kind of his responsibility, but whatever speeds up the process, I guess. Gilbert was halfway through scooping up the last of the spilled soil when he reached for the same broken pot piece Elizabeta went for.
Their hands collided.
“Ow! Watch it!” she snapped, rubbing her knuckles. “You watch it!” he retorted, flinching. “Jeez, violent even when gardening.” They both lunged for the same shard again, determined not to let the other win.
And that’s when it happened.
Their feet tangled.
The world tilted.
There was a shout-
“Gilbert!”
“Wha-oh crap-!"
He looked up just in time to see a blur of brown and green-and then the full weight of Elizabeta came crashing down on him, knocking the air out of his lungs as they both toppled into the grass.
“OOF-”
They landed with a tangled flop. Gilbert’s arms instinctively caught her around the waist. Her knee hit his hip. Her braid smacked him in the eye.
She groaned. “Ugh. Sorry, I-my boot slipped on the stupid hose, and then... why are you so bony?!”
“I’M NOT BONY, I’M RIPPED-wait, are you-are you on top of me?!”
“Technically yes,” she grumbled, pushing herself up slightly-only to realize her hands had landed flat on his chest. She froze.
So did he.
They blinked at each other.
Then:
“…Elizabeta,” he whispered, wide eyes darting around as a dangerous blush crept up his neck as he gulped nervously. This moment wasn't doing much for his - ahem - 'secret' crush on her.
“…Gilbert,” she said, voice suspiciously small.
Their faces were dangerously close. Like could-count-each-other’s-freckles close.
Elizabeta swallowed. “This is not what it looks like.”
“Oh it’s exactly what it looks like,” he choked, still bright red. “And I am probably going to die right here from cardiac arrest.”
“Shut up,” she mumbled, trying to sit up-except her knee slipped again, and she fell right back onto him, hands landing on either side of his head this time.
Her chest brushed his. His breath left the planet.
“E-ELIZABETA?!”
“I’M TRYING, OKAY?!”
“TRY HARDER! MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS!!” They both just… stopped.
Breathing.
Moving.
Blushing like radioactive strawberries.
Finally, Elizabeta let out a long, exasperated sigh. “…This is your fault.”
“My fault? You fell on me!”
“Because your stupid hose was lying across the path!”
“Oh sure, blame the innocent gardening equipment-”
“Gilbert,” she said sharply, interrupting. He gulped. “…Y-Yeah?”
Her eyes narrowed. Then softened.
Then… twinkled.
“I’m still on top of you.”
“…You are,” he squeaked.
“...And your hands are on my hips.” He blinked. “...I regret nothing?”
She let out a sudden laugh, bright and flustered.
“You’re such an idiot,” she muttered-but didn’t move right away. Neither did he.
They just stayed there, awkward and tangled and way too aware of how warm the other was.
Then, quietly- “…Your face is really red,” she murmured, eyes flicking down to his.
He gave her a crooked, terrified grin. “So is yours.” She huffed, finally rolling off and flopping onto the grass beside him with a groan.
They both stared up at the clouds. Silence.
Then Gilbert whispered. “…Wanna do that again, but on purpose?”
“Say that again and I’ll dropkick you into the compost pile.”
“So… next Tuesday?” She elbowed him, but she was smiling. And maybe, just maybe, her hand stayed a little too close to his on the grass, scanning over his skin as they giggled together.
---
That Evening: The Confession (Sort Of)
Gilbert stayed longer than usual, helping with the dishes (badly), making fun of her terrible taste in reality TV (loudly), and somehow ending up sitting beside her on the porch under a sky full of stars.
There was a pause. Then:
“I like this,” she said quietly.
“What? Me being here?” She hesitated, then nodded. “When you’re not being an idiot.”
“I’m always an idiot,” he replied.
“I know,” she smiled. “But sometimes you’re my idiot.” He turned to her, eyes wide. “Was that... affectionate?”
“Don’t push it.”
“I’m writing this down,” he said, patting his pockets. “Wait-this deserves a diary entry.”
“You keep a diary?”
“Of your compliments, yes. There’s, like, three of them. I cherish them deeply.” Elizabeta chuckled and leaned slightly against his shoulder. He blinked.
“Wait. Are we cuddling?”
“I’m cold.” “Oh. So it’s not because you like me?”
“Don’t make me get the pan.” He laughed, but leaned his head gently against hers.
---
The night sky, brightly illuminated by the crescent moon and gleaming stars shined down upon the grassy hill where Hungary and Prussia lay in silence. Gilbert said, softer than the teasing remarks he passes often, turned to face Elizabeta as he blushed.
“You know... you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to shut up just to listen.”
She turned to him slowly. “That might be the most un-Gilbert thing you’ve ever said.”
“I know. That’s how you know I mean it.”
Elizabeta looked at him, expression unreadable. “You’re not just messing around, are you?” He gave her a rare, sincere smile. “Nope. This is real. Terrifying, huh?” She nodded, then whispered, “A little.”
He inched closer. “Can I...?”
“Try it and die,” she said, but didn’t move away. His hands nervously inched towards her waist and he lingered hesitantly in the air, when her graceful hand caressed his and gently placed it onto her waist as he hitched his breath up. He concentrated his gaze away from her waist and onto her stunning gaze, fierce with experience throughout her life but soft with the grace of what Gilbert expects a freaking goddess to look like. He pulled her closer towards his figure and blushed as she leaned her lips forwards.
They were this close when-
Berlitz, Germany's cute dog that Hungary gracefully agreed to look after when he went for a visit to Italy, started barking abruptly. Probably on the sighting of a stray cat somewhere, which was quite common around Hungary's province as she had the habit of putting out food for the strays.
She jumped. He flopped back onto the hill and smacked his hands on his head in exasperation.
“VERDAMMT DOG-”
Elizabeta burst out laughing as Gilbert groaned from the grass.
“I swear,” he muttered, brushing dirt off, “the universe is cockblocking me.”
“You’re lucky I like disasters,” she said, offering him a hand up. He took it, still grinning. “You do like me!”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Just... don’t make me regret it.”
“Never,” he promised. “Well, maybe a little. But only in an adorable way.”
Fin~