FIC: Close Enough.
Fanfic masterlist here.
Title: Close Enough.
Length: 1950 words
Rating: PG
Warnings: Swearing
Genre: Tee hee, aww, FLUFF!
Characters, Pairings: young!Germany, fem!Prussia
Summary: Valentine's Day never comes to the German House. One wonders why.
Notes: Filled for the Hetalia Kink Meme. Original request: " bitty!Germany finds it sad his big sis never seems to get anything on valentines day, so decides to man up and give her a gift himself." Anon also wanted, as bonuses, France encouraging him and fem!Prussia tries to be grouchy and brush it off as silly but secretly is all 'aww!' inside.
“I’m back. Germany, where are you?”
That gruff voice rang through the halls and the boy immediately poked his head out of the study, both arms clasped around books and papers that he held to his chest. He had never really understood Prussia’s habit of wanting to see him immediately after her return, but he realised that she got even testier than usual when he didn’t appear immediately.
“I’m here,” he said obediently, walking to her. Her scowl abated, but only a little, and she patted his head, eyeing him briefly.
“How much trouble have you caused today?”
“None at all!” Germany piped up with wide eyes. That made her eyes smile somewhat even though her lips had thinned into a more characteristic smirk. He pouted a little, dropping his gaze to the floor sulkily and she let out that self-satisfied cackle of hers.
“Of course. God forbid you misbehave,” she said wryly, ruffling his hair thoroughly to a squawk of indignation. Mood lifted a little, she called for the servants to relieve her of her battle regalia and to draw a bath. Germany just stood by, still sulking slightly as he patted down his hair with one hand and watched the flurry of movement. They moved into the study, where Germany returned to his seat and Prussia began to impatiently stir the cup of tea that had been prepared for her. She glanced out the window every few minutes. Germany wondered what on earth she was waiting for.
There was a knock on the door.
“My lord, there is a messenger here for you.”
“Oh?” Prussia’s eyes were fiery, almost gleeful and she almost shot to her feet, but she remained seated. “What are you waiting for? Bring him in!”
“Yes, my lord.”
A messenger bearing Hungary’s banner entered. He bowed and cleared his throat as he read from a scroll, a slight tremble in his voice.
By the time he was through, Prussia had thrown him through the second storey window with a very unfeminine roar.
“Fucking dyke,” she muttered, casting a dark look over the few shards of glass that had ended up on the carpet. “Can’t fucking take any fucking competition, can she?”
Germany was a little upset to see her with such a short temper and refrained from comment as his sister proceeded to tear down a warpath through the palace. The next two hours were the most unnerving and confusing of Germany’s time in the Prussian house and he was at a loss, not sure of what he should do. The king was away at the winter palace for a rest, so there wasn’t anyone to calm her down. It finally seemed like she had had enough. She stopped pacing and kicked one of the heavy chairs out of her way, sending it hurtling across the room.
“If Spain turns up, he’d better be carrying fifty dozen red roses and an entire fucking crate of wine or I’m going to rip his balls off myself,” she snapped at her attendant before she slammed the door shut behind her, hard enough to send two framed portraits crashing to the ground. A collective sigh rang throughout the chamber as the servants dutifully began to tend to the mess. Germany only felt a little exasperated.
Not really wanting to incur the wrath of his sister further, the boy wandered out into the gardens since he couldn’t exactly sit down and read with all the fuss. As he kicked a pebble off the dirt path, he heard the whinnying of horses and a carriage jerking to a halt. He looked up, curious to see who the visitor was.
France stuck his head out of the carriage, letting out a low whistle at the human-sized hole in the window on the second floor. He glanced down, catching sight of Germany, and smiled at him, calling him over.
Hesitantly, Germany obeyed, maintaining a polite distance between the carriage door and himself.
“Prussia’s in one of her moods, isn’t she?”
Germany wrinkled his nose lightly, something France wholly appreciated. He wondered if telling France was the right thing to do…
…but decided to cave in when he heard a crash inside the manse and another barked order for beer.
“She was all right when she got home,” Germany began to hurriedly explain, toned hushed confidentially even though there wasn’t anyone else around. “But then she got a letter from Hungary.”
“I can imagine that’s when the hole was made,” France commented amusedly.
Germany nodded in agreement. “But that’s not it. It seems like she’s waiting for something. After that, she said that she’d only see Spain if he brought fifty dozen red roses and a crate of wine or else she’d… um, emasculate him.”
“Oh dear. She hasn’t gotten anything at all, has she?”
“No,” Germany shook his head. “It’s not her birthday, is it? I have it circled in my calendar so it shouldn’t be…”
“No, no, it’s not her birthday,” he grinned. “It’s something far more widespread and certainly more romantic.”
Germany wrinkled his nose again. “… the Kaiser’s birthday?”
France let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head and muttering to himself. The siblings certainly were a well-matched pair, and equally as ridiculous. He cleared his throat and regarded Germany with a nonplussed look.
“Dear boy, allow Lord Brother France to educate you. ‘For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate,’ after all! The good saint refused to deny Christ before the Roman Emperor Claudius. Before he was beheaded, he restored sight and hearing to his jailer’s daughter.”
Germany blinked, looking at France with a wary curiousness.
“…is there a point to this story?”
“Saint Valentine’s Day, boy!” France harrumphed irately. “A day to celebrate lovers! Women! Romance!”
Germany didn’t quite get it. “What does that have anything to do with romance?”
France narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re supposed to be celebrating romance.”
“Okay,” Germany conceded, not really wanting to argue. “And?”
“And what is worse than a lovely young lady in the bosom of youth without any strapping young men to court her with wine and song?”
Light entered Germany’s eyes. France smirked triumphantly. Finally.
“Is that why she won’t let Spain come see her without roses?”
“Precisely. But I’ll tell you now that he won’t be coming.”
“Why not?”
“We have a little Englishman to take care of. It cannot wait, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” Germany looked a little disappointed. “So you can’t visit her either?”
“Let me say that, even if I could, I don’t think I would. Prussia doesn’t take to my handsome face very well when she is in one of her moods.”
Germany quietly turned the statement over in his, wondering about any possible alternatives to eligible Valentines for his sister. The list was, unfortunately, rather slim considering Prussia’s investment in war. She was having a rough time of it right now, too. He wondered if it was fine for him to be the one giving her something even if he didn’t really count as a Valentine…
He asked France.
“Of course it’s allowed, you silly boy!” He laughed. “In fact, I think she’ll be happiest getting something from you.”
Germany looked dubious. “I don’t think anything I have to offer would make her all that happy.”
“It’s not the sum nor the size of the gift,” France said, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, just give her something. You’ll understand.”
Germany nodded obediently. Best not to argue, after all.
“So… roses and wine?”
“They are traditional, yes,” France said. “Your palace is large. I’m sure you can find something if you look hard enough.”
“…I don’t know…”
“Come now,” France reproached. “What would Prussia say if she knew what a wishy-washy little brother she raised? You love your sister, don’t you?”
“…Yes,” Germany responded, a little injured at the insinuations.
“Then get her something.”
“Fine,” Germany bit. “I will.”
“Well, duty calls! Best of luck, little one. I may yet pay both of you a visit. We shall see.”
France whistled at the coachmen and soon he was on his way. Germany watched the carriage disappear from view and then placed both his hands on his hips, wondering about the task he had just been made to complete.
It then struck him that it was winter and flowers didn’t generally bloom.
In a slight panic, he contemplated running after France’s carriage in hopes of some guidance but it was unlikely that he could catch up. Besides, France had something important to tend to. It wouldn’t be polite to impose. Germany sighed softly, scratching the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what to do.
France had mentioned looking around the palace. Maybe there would be a bottle of wine somewhere, and with any luck, a vase with some flowers in it. It was viable enough to be worth trying at the very least.
By the time the veil of evening fell, Germany was covered in dirt and under the angry glare of one Prussia in the library.
“What the hell is this?” She snapped, grabbing a pinch of his dirty blond hair and tugging at it before releasing it. “You disappear the entire day and come back leaving footprints all over the place?”
Germany fidgeted, hands behind his back as he tried to interject with an answer, but all he managed was a muttered, “I was looking for something.”
“Speak up,” Prussia snapped. Germany forced the words out, louder this time.
“I… got you something.” He held out the small bunch of pink and yellow crocuses he had picked in the wood outside the palace in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other. Germany flushed a deep red as Prussia’s eyes narrowed, gaze alternating between the items.
“I couldn’t find roses or wine,” Germany stuttered. “So the closest thing I could get were these. And… I took the beer from the Kaiser’s personal cellar.” His expression became pleading. “Please don’t tell him. I don’t want to be beaten.”
Prussia was scowling as she took in the explanation.
“What’s all this about?”
“It’s Saint Valentine’s Day,” Germany explained more confidently than he had expected. “And you’re supposed to give roses and wine to the people you love. I don’t know if these count, but… they’re for you regardless.”
Germany waited nervously, eyes on Prussia now, anxious to see her reaction.
Internally, Prussia had just about snapped in half at the awesome that was her adorable little brother.
She coughed once, scowl deepening as she swiped the flowers from his hand and examined them distastefully.
“Flowers. What kind of weak-ass pansy do you take me for, huh? This is the kind of thing that dickhead France would do to get into someone’s pants,” she said roughly, noting the dismayed look on Germany’s face from the corner of her eyes. She made a quick save, plucking the beer from his small hands and nodding in approval as she read the label. “Beer, however, is a million times more awesome than that grape bullshit that Spain’s on half the time.”
The thin smirk grew on her face and she shot Germany a smug, wholly satisfied look.
“The Kaiser’s cellar, huh?”
He nodded once.
“Knew you had some trouble in you somewhere,” she commented gruffly, removing the cap and necking it. “And thank god for it.”
Germany was excused for the evening, happily noting Prussia’s bark for a vase and water and the fact that the Kaiser was none the wiser about a missing bottle of his favourite beer.
The crocuses stayed on her desk for months, in full view, until they wilted.