[Fanfic / Secret Santa Gift] (Im)mature Love
My gift for macht_schnell for the meinbruder Secret Santa! I hope you and everyone else who reads it likes it, even if just a little bit!
Title: (Im)mature Love
Characters: Germany/Ludwig and Prussia/Gilbert
Rating: PG
Warning: Blood
Prompt: "Hurt/comfort, lots of fluff - one is injured, the other one helps the other feel better, AU or canon."
A/N: This story. It is long. And the fluff. I hope it exists well enough. orz I tend to think puppy love = fluff. The prompt was also fairly open ended so I took some liberties, such as giving it some historical flavoring. I normally write from Prussia's PoV, but this kind of story seemed more suiting with Germany's so I hope it came over well. :3 As a story-related note, Ludwig is supposed to be about 14 while Gilbert would be about 25.
"Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.'
Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you'"
[ Eric Fromm ]
1878
Fields flashed by in floods of green and gray. Ludwig could feel the rise and fall of the hills in his stomach even as the horse seemed to fly over them with the sound of pounding hooves. A small wood snaked alongside them, weaving in and away for quite some time before it suddenly vanished in favor of open farmland. Golden stalks of barley swayed idly and the air held an autumn crispness about it. Bundled up tightly in his black tweed jacket--buttoned all the way up to the collar as Ludwig insisted it was supposed to be, to Gilbert's obvious bemusement--beige woolen breeches, and a heavy deep blue coat on top, the chill barely seeped in. Not that it would have bothered him if it did as the chase had drawn all of his attention.
Commanding insistent words of encouragement to his horse, adding in a whip of the reigns, and nudging the heel of his black leather boot into the flank did nothing to urge the animal on any faster. Or in fact, his horse did speed up as commanded, but his brother simply continued to out-ride him. Gilbert had taken the lead early on and continued to hold it strong. Every once in a while Gilbert would appear to slow down, allow his horse to run diagonally or make an exaggerated loop around a tree or open fest post. At that point, Ludwig would again resort to urging his horse on, demanding speed while confidently telling it that they were almost there, that it was just only a little bit further.
Just as soon as the opportunity presented itself, it was lost with the sound of Gilbert's shouts of joking and mocking encouragements. "You don't need to bring your mount to a trot on a dinky hill!" was yelled out just ten minutes outside the city limits. "Don't tell me you're stopping to look at the scenery already!" came half an hour later.
"Just slow down already, Gilbert!" Ludwig called back. "This is reckless!" But it was more than just that: it was the taste of being underestimated, of finding himself lacking. Ludwig had swelled with pride when the tailor had to be brought in again for a new wardrobe, it being the second time the man had had to arrive with his measure tape and array of fabric within a year. Yet even with Gilbert beaming and grabbing the tape measure to check Ludwig's height for himself, Ludwig still couldn’t help notice how he still had to tilt his chin up to look Gilbert in the eye. Still small, still growing, and still unable to get his horse to match his brother’s mount in stride and speed.
The only reason Ludwig followed along in this venture was because Gilbert had promised that they would go hunting, just the two of them. For successfully leading and completing a practice military maneuver, it was to be Ludwig's reward. Why or when his brother ever thought hunting was one of Ludwig's interests was a mystery. He hadn't ever showed any interest in boars or deer before and, at the end of the day, all training with rifles and canons was for military purposes anyway. A canon, pushed around wooden wheels that were as quiet as a hammer pounding on steel, wasn't much use in the woods, after all.
Gilbert called him an idiot first and foremost. "You have a king now, West, and all good kings go hunting. Are you really going to sit at home like some old man while he's off having all the fun?" Having half a mind to simply say 'Yes,' Ludwig was cut off by a brisk laugh and crooked grin. "We'll head out tomorrow, just the two of us!"
Not that it was much in Ludwig's habit to say no, especially not to his elder, there was something else in the way Gilbert had said that which had made Ludwig nod instead and hold his tongue. On a rare occurrence of using his imagination, the young blond couldn't help but envision it. In the quiet of the forest, the two of them would kneel shoulder to shoulder with bated breath, ducked behind a fallen tree for cover as a deer naively walked towards them as it searched for food. The ring of metal would brush by Ludwig's fingers as he calmly, completely in control of himself and his nerves with his palms not sweating at all and his breath perfectly managed, would wait. Gilbert would whisper instructions under his breath, telling the younger to hold; telling him to raise his gun; telling him to fire.
An imagination was quickly something Ludwig was quick to judge as being overrated, what with Gilbert's actual idea of 'just the two of us' involving just the two of them with enough space between them to fit in the Brandenburg Gate on good moments and the Cologne Cathedral on bad ones.
The open field narrowed once more as the woods crept up close to him on the right, forcing him off the grassy field and back onto the dirt path. The sound of the hooves beating on the ground grew louder. On his other side a dry riverbed curved parallel alongside him, but on the other side of the dried up river lay another wide expanse of land. Looking across the open field, he could see the indirect route the road was taking, with what appeared to be a speck of a bridge far off in the distance. How inefficient.
Spotting the turn of Gilbert's head up ahead, most likely following the path of the riverbed with his eyes from what he could see, it appeared his brother noticed this problem as well. But inefficient or not, the bridge was built up ahead for a reason, surely, and it wouldn't do to forsake it.
His elder seemed to think otherwise. The black horse up ahead more or less charged in and out of the shallow riverbed, scrambling down and making a leap out from the bottom with rocks crumbling off of the dry dirt walls. His brother whooped in delight and, for once, fell back to let his horse walk. Ludwig was relieved to do the same.
White hair completely wind-swept, his cheeks flushed, and the blue military jacket with the unbuttoned collar at the neck, Gilbert smirked across the way and looked entirely impish. "Don't think you need to pull any classy stunts like that today, West," he said, but gave that expectant look of his which told Ludwig that yes, he did need to follow after.
The expectation made Ludwig swallow hard but he kept a determined face. Gilbert continued to look at him with red eyes unwavering but Ludwig was unable to keep the eye-contact for much longer than a second before the awkwardness set in. The second he looked away, he heard a short laugh and Gilbert was off again, running free as he always did.
Although his own horse was walking on strong, it was obviously worn out from the ride. Ludwig didn't want to push it any harder than necessary, knew that he shouldn't, but there was an insistent thought that said he should. Knowing Gilbert would be listening for the sound of him leaving the path, Ludwig sighed, his mouth set in a rigid line of determination, and he went for it.
Picking up the pace, moving into a brisk trot then into a light run, Ludwig quickly scanned his eyes over the stream bed ahead, with the river of dry pebbles, rocks, and weeds flowing on his left side and looking completely uninviting. Yet his reluctance left him and he was filled with a sudden urge to do this. Gilbert was riding the same type of horse as Ludwig--an older one, which should mean Ludwig should have the advantage in this attempt--and the stream bed looked the same behind and up ahead, so the present was as good a time as any. With a commanding shout of "Now!" he rerouted his horse to the left.
They went down together, boy and horse, as the rocks proved just as unstable here as when Gilbert had gone in. His horse had not scrambled down but sought to jump across in full. It missed. Hooves found little grip as rocks rolled pebbles scurried away on the sloping riverbed wall. Ludwig gripped the reigns, pulled them to try to steady the animal and turn it to the side away from its present course to climb out, but instead the horse reared. Down they went, all the way, with the field of grass vanishing behind walls of dirt and a carpet of rocks to catch their fall. Only then did the horse tried to turn to the side, but the collapse came with Ludwig's heart jumping to his throat.
The only sound was the horse screaming and whinnying while the rocks continued to crunch and crumble. The pain in Ludwig's leg seared hot but his own shout got stuck in his throat. The horse was a stubborn one and refused to stay down. Trying to separate himself, a blank panic overcoming him, Ludwig only managed to remove his top foot from the stirrup while his other leg was crushed in the horse's attempt and failure to rise again and again. One arm reached out to grab onto something, anything, and pull himself out from under while his other hand sought to push the horse off. The rocks were small and the dirt, digging into his fingernails, was too dry to give him any leverage.
His heart nearly burst from his chest when he felt something grip around his ankle and yank him back. But it was Gilbert, yelling and cursing his head off. Ludwig barely had the sense to watch as his own foot was shoved back into the stirrup, but he could still feel the clenching hold on his ankle. Grabbing onto the horse reigns, Gilbert leaned back for what looked to be all he was worth. With the way his older brother's toothy grin had resorted to tightly clenching teeth, it was obvious that he was putting all of his weight into it. And when the horse rose up to its feet, Ludwig really did cry out when the pressure was let off. Both hands shot out to grip his leg and squeeze it. Blood was seeping above the boot cuff, but then he saw that the horse was cut and scrapped too. More so than his own pain, it was seeing the bloodied side and flank of his horse that made him ashamed of what he had tried to do.
"Stupid!" Gilbert snapped. Ludwig could not bring himself to look him in the eye. "Are you an idiot? What did I tell you earlier!?" Wasting no time, his brother rubbed the horse on the nose a few times to calm it--doing little good as Gilbert's own fury only seemed to provoke the animal further--and was swiftly leading and pulling the animal back up and out of the riverbed, back onto the dirt path by the woods.
It was difficult for Ludwig to keep his place in the saddle with both hands gripping his leg. "You said..." Trying to squeeze his legs to hold his place made tears come to his eyes. "Not to try anything," Ludwig muttered. Even if Gilbert had given him that look, it never worked to say, but we both know you wanted me to do it.
"You're damn right I did! Your speed was all wrong, for one." Gilbert led the horse across the road and tied the reigns to a low-hanging tree branch. "What the hell was that kind of entry? Were you jumping in or diving in headfirst?"
"I..." Ludwig's face was burning, but luckily real tears were not coming. He could barely breathe from the pain. "I don't know."
"Damn right you didn't know!" Ludwig took a chance to look directly at him and regretted it. Gilbert looked murderous. Even his hair looked to be in disarray. Ludwig couldn't help leaning back when Gilbert came to a stop on his good side. Another long look was exchanged before Ludwig realized that Gilbert's flush of anger was on top of a stark paleness. That only seemed to make him more ashamed than before.
Gilbert reached out to take Ludwig's arm and hold him on his back, helping him from the saddle. Still wearing his deep blue military jacket--gold buttons rising up from waist to neck--along with his heavy brown boots, black wool trousers, but with his missing look of general contentment, Gilbert struck as an intimidating figure in his anger. Ludwig did not push him away when the elder wrapped an arm across his back and helped him limp into a forest clearing of red and golden leaves. He also managed to keep his hiss of pain into a simple, stifled gasp when he accidentally bent his leg while being eased onto the ground.
"Let's see..." Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, towering over Ludwig while he inspected the leg with his eyes. The cloth was ripped and dirtied from knee to mid-thigh. Kneeling down in a motion so swift that Ludwig thumped his head back against the tree trunk behind him, Gilbert withdrew a short blade from his boot and cut through the pant cloth at the knee. The wound still bled lightly and the cloth had matted and buried into the open flesh, so the cloth had to be peeled and pulled off centimeter by centimeter. "Now that is a grim sight."
"It... it looks worse than it feels." It looked horrendous, with small specks of dirt and rock adding to the destruction of it all.
A heavy and unexpected smack landed on Ludwig's shoulder. "Ow-- Hey! What was that--"
"If you looked any tenser, I'd be afraid you might fall to pieces before I got started." Gilbert laughed, suddenly seeming to find a sense of levity, and Ludwig frowned, albeit a painful one. "Don't scowl like that. You forget it's me here! Just leave it all to the extraordinary Gilbert!" That day's less-than-extraordinary Gilbert rose up to his feet and began shuffling through Ludwig's saddlebag.
"Shouldn't we go back to town?" Ludwig asked. He tried to remove his boot but was only left having to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out.
Gilbert came back over with his water tin, the cap swiftly removed by his deft fingers. "We're probably not going hunting anymore, that's for sure," he said as he poured it out over Ludwig's leg.
Ludwig was wrong. It wasn't water. And he really did scream that time, with Gilbert's hands reaching out to grab his wrists to stop him from touching anything.
"Yup," Gilbert said, the look of disappoint obvious past Ludwig's watering eyes. The disappointment was almost comical in its presentation, which irritated Ludwig to no end. Was this really a laughing matter? "No more hunting."
"T-Then let's go back to town." Ludwig tried to wipe the back of his sleeve across his forehead, where he could feel sweat beading already, but Gilbert held on strong.
"Don't want to."
"I... I want to," he said forcefully.
"No you don't. You wanted to go hunting, just the two of us! Don't think I didn't see how excited you looked when I suggested that great idea!"
A flush came over his cheeks but Ludwig still felt a knot in his stomach and the burn of the alcohol seeking further and further into his leg. "You just said we weren't going hunting."
"Yeah, well." Gilbert shrugged carelessly and looked down at the leg. Only when Ludwig looked down again too did he see the ragged tear on both knees of his brother's pants and the dirt-covered kneecaps. "A night of camping won't be so bad... Heh! I wouldn't want to disappoint you by taking away some bonding time with me!" Ludwig must have had a peculiar expression on his face because Gilbert only seemed to grin all the wider a moment later.
The set up for their 'camp' was quick, since they had planned to use the royal hunting lodge by the Black Forest and had not brought many supplies. Gilbert brought his horse back over from the other side and retrieved his flint, water--he promised repeatedly it was water this time--and blanket. The attention to Ludwig's injured leg was painful but luckily Gilbert had steady hands and worked quickly. The dirt and rocks had to be pried out, making the blood run freely once more. It was a messy business and Ludwig was secretly glad that he wasn't the one who had to do it. With fingers clenched at his sides, he tried to act strong while not actually looking at the process.
When the boot had to come off so it could be bandaged properly, Ludwig finally asked what he already knew: "It's broken, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but you'll recover fast," Gilbert replied gently, happily, and patted him on the head. The hand lingered for a moment, making Ludwig feel like a kid but at the same time it wasn't quite that. Although it wasn't needed, Gilbert pulled his other boot off, too, saying that now he didn't look so lopsided.
When the white bandage finally came on, wrapped tight enough to ease the pain away as only his brother knew how to do, Ludwig finally found himself able to relax from the tension that had been eating away at him. Gilbert appeared to find a heightened levity again, for even Ludwig could hear the deep breath the man inhaled and exhaled before clapping his hands excitedly together.
"So with you all bandaged and crippled, what to do now!" Gilbert announced excitedly. Too excitedly.
"I'm not crippled, Gilbert."
"Firewood, of course! Don't want your little toes to freeze and fall off!"
"Wha-- I wear the same sized boots as you do!" Ludwig looked at his toes, perfectly warm and still attached to his foot inside the black sock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gilbert look at them too, followed by his brother reaching out to pinch them with pale fingers.
Toes wiggled to fend him the touch off.
"Is that so." Another pinch.
Ludwig bent his leg up--luckily the good one--to escape, all the while thinking, and giving the expression of, what the hell, Gilbert?
Suddenly he was roaring with laughter, squirming, and trying to punch Gilbert in the face with shouts of "Stop, stop!" all at the same time while fingers scratched at his sides and under his arms. Childish, all of it, but with tears of laughter in his eyes Ludwig sought to retaliate. His brother leaned to the side to dodge it, laughing nearly just as loudly, but the game ended when Ludwig shouted out in pain when his injured leg was knocked into and this time he really did manage to punch Gilbert away in the chest.
"OW!"
There was guilt, surely, but... "I told you to knock it off!"
"It was just a bit of fun! Seriously, West, you take things too... seriously! Stop being so worried, it's just a leg, it'll heal."
"That? I'm not worried at all!"
"Really? Because you know if by some freak chance you lose the leg, I can always just go kick some guy's asses again and get you a new one, we do have a few neighbors wanting rematche--"
"Gilbert!" All that did was cause more laughter and for Gilbert to find some cause to pinch Ludwig on the cheek. The second the pinch was done, Ludwig's hand shot up to cover the flush.
"Firewood, right, I'm on it!" Going first to the saddle bags, Gilbert vanished into the woods.
Why he needed to take his gun with him for firewood--Ludwig couldn't help but grin a little when some wild thoughts came to mind--was later told when he heard the few shots fire and a plump rabbit was carried back by its ears along with an armful of twigs and branches. The leaves were quickly brushed away, leaving Gilbert's sleeves dirty but the response of "Gees, they're only sleeves, West. Have you seen what happened to my pants?" cut that conversation off quickly.
The two saddlebags were taken off of the horses, stacked together, and used to prop-up Ludwig's leg. Sitting with his back to the tree trunk, the only thing he was left to do was watch as the fire was struck up and the rabbit was put on a cooking rack made of twigs and string. It was times like those that reminded him that although his brother was very often times an idiot, the man had a keen sense of ingenuity.
It was only just starting to get dark when supper was served. All they had to drink was water and what turned out to be a few drops of the strong liquor Gilbert had used for wound cleaner. Both had expected to be well into Bavaria by then, where the beer flowed freely, but the water went well enough. Bread and some apple slices completed the quaint meal.
"There are more of those rabbits out there," Gilbert informed him, collecting up the plated and breaking the twigs of his cooking rack to let them burn in the fire. "We can have a feast in the morning!" Grabbing the two blankets that had been taken from the saddlebags, he threw one around his own shoulders before coming back over to where Ludwig was sitting. "Here, move a bit, it's cold."
Less than the expectation of simply having the other blanket thrown on him, Gilbert was literally trying to move him. "Wait, what are you--"
"I said move, West!"
Unceremoniously, Ludwig was pushed away from his tree to have his backrest replaced with... Gilbert.
"What are you doing!?" Ludwig asked, but it was obvious. Gilbert sat behind him now, using the tree trunk for his own back support while Ludwig's back was pressed to Gilbert's chest. His face flushed when arms snaked under his arms and threw the blanket over his legs. Over both of their legs, with the other pairs boxing Ludwig in and finally having him surrounded on all sides.
Gilbert laughed and started to tickle him again before Ludwig elbowed him in the stomach. "O-Ow... It gets cold at night, West. The fire only does you so much good."
It was true enough. Plus the soft chest was infinitely better than the tree trunk. "Fine, but would you stop trying to tickle me? I'm not a child. And he buttons on your jacket..." As much as he didn't want to say anything, they were digging painfully into back.
"I know, I know! You say so often enough." The sigh was surprisingly loud in Ludwig's ear, reminding him just how closely they sat and just how close in height they were. There was more jostling while Gilbert began to undo his jacket, but when it was opened and Ludwig's back felt warmer, it caused him to feel more awkward than before. "Herr Ludwig, Deutschland." Although he couldn't remember just the last time they had sat like this, he suddenly felt more mature, more adult, and how sitting like this felt... more intimate than normal. "Forever old and boring." Really, Gilbert always seemed to be off in his own world and thoughts. It was a wonder Ludwig was maturing at all, under his guidance. "Hah! You may look the part better but I feel like I'm the one who's a kid here!"
Ludwig didn't smile, but he reached a hand up behind him and mussed Gilbert's hair. "Good boy, Gilbert."
"Huh?" Owlish red eyes looked at him, then an unexpected flush overcame the elder's cheeks. The sight of it vanished when Gilbert dropped his forehead to Ludwig's shoulder.
"What?" He wasn't sure what just happened. "Are you really going to be acting like a kid now?"
Chuckling, Gilbert said, "How 'bout a good bed time story? Or are you too old and boring for those now?" The soft laughter rippled through the both of them and felt comfortable and familiar.
"I'd think you would be the one too old for something like that..." Arms squeezed tightly around his waist and Gilbert took a chance to look up, eyes wistful and almost pathetic-like, like a sad old dog even if his brother did not look old at all. It would have been a sly move, but Ludwig had learned over the years that his brother didn't actually do that particular look on purpose. A surprise, given all the other ways of manipulation Gilbert had in his arsenal.
"Haven't you heard them all before? You know my leg hurts. Can't we just go to sleep..."
"Of course I've heard them all! But you know them better than I do--although I do tell them with a much more awesome way than you do, but I'll let you tell it this time! There's always time for sleep later, and you can take another drink of the good stuff to fight off the pain. So... So tell the one about those kids getting lost in the wood! With the candy."
"Won't that only make you hungry?"
As always, Gilbert was not keen to have his plans shot down. "West, seriously, we just ate. Plus it will take your mind of things."
Sighing and nestling back into the cushion behind him, Ludwig began the story of Hansel and Gretel. His leg throbbed painfully in the background like insistent and clumsy music that hit all the wrong notes. When he got to the part about Hansel being locked up by the Candy Witch, however, Gilbert jumped right into the telling, snatching up the story and running wild with it. It was not the first time and Ludwig simply let him have it.
As the retelling went, when Hansel was locked up in the stable, Gretel kicked down the door and rescued him. When the witch tried to get Gretel to climb into the stove, Gretel did a most un-Gretel like thing, in Ludwig's opinion, by telling the witch where she could shove her damn stove.
Ludwig would have been almost convinced of Gilbert's tenacity and creativity in this story telling if he didn't slip up by saying "West" instead of "Hansel" at least three times in his new telling.
"Then after Gretel had given West all the candy he wanted, she faced off with evil Witch," Gilbert raved on.
For one, it was a surprise that Gilbert had casted himself as Gretel, the girl. For another, it wasn't all that surprising since both started with G and Gilbert was only so creative when it came to stories and writing--Ludwig had seen the library of journals, after all. At least he didn't mistake West and Witch for the Ws.
"The Witch was French, by the way."
"Yes, you said that earlier, Gilbert."
Regardless of how psychotic the retelling was, Ludwig enjoyed the fervor of it all. It wasn't exactly relaxing, with his brother getting into it by waving his arms and being like an earthquake. But by the end, Ludwig was resting his head back on Gilbert's shoulder and watching the man's face which shone with excitement. From what he could see, Gilbert really thought it all to be real at that moment.
"But Gretel smacked that Witch into a coma with one the gingerbread door of that awesome candy house. Using some candy rope"--it seemed putting 'candy' in front of regular items made them sugary--"she strung the evil, sinister witch up by the ankles in the tree, with her dress falling over her head and her ugly, Austrian-patched underwear exposed to everyone! The End!" Gilbert positively cackled at that and Ludwig couldn't help but smile.
"It was a good story, brother." A long retelling, with several side adventures, but luckily the fire was still warm and the few sips from the hard drink helped even if it did make him sleepy.
"Of course!" Gilbert said, followed by a surprise snuggle against the side of Ludwig's head. Embarrassing as it was, Ludwig returned the gesture with his own arms hugging over where Gilbert's arms wrapped around him. "Made the pain go away, didn't it?"
"No, not really." With the other quickly looking crestfallen and with a sudden urge to please him, Ludwig added, "It-- It only started hurting again when the story was done." That seemed to appease, as the grin returned.
With Ludwig using Gilbert's shoulder as a pillow, Gilbert rested his heavy head on Ludwig's. They sat in silence to the sound of the fire crackling loudly nearby. Ludwig could still hear the whisk of the horses' tails and the small stirring of animals and leaves in the night. The moon was a small sliver in a sky, framed by clouds and hidden behind branches that were mostly barren of their leaves.
"We'll have to go hunting next time," Gilbert said, suddenly interrupting the quiet. "You promise? Right when you're all healed up again, we'll right out! No questions asked!"
Ludwig was surprised Gilbert would have to ask that, with the older of them being the leader by default. He really is like a kid. "Yeah, we'll go right after I'm all healed." The fire warmed his feet, the body behind him warmed his back, and Gilbert's breath right by his ear sent shivers down his neck. "I'll become even stronger for the next trip," Ludwig insisted, his voice slightly higher than before."You'll see."
"That's what little kids say," Gilbert mumbled sleepily. "You think I doubt it? We'll become awesome together. Forever and"--he yawned and snuggled closer--"and ever. Now go to sleep."
Not expecting it, wondering whether or not it was done on purpose--those red eyes had been closed the whole time, hadn't they? Not that Ludwig had been able to see them if they had been--Gilbert dipped his head momentarily down and kissed him. Kisses weren't unusual for them, planted often and embarrassingly enough on cheeks, foreheads, and noses. Yet this one had caught him on the corner of the mouth. Unexpectedly soft lips for such a person, he noticed with eyes widening. Gilbert's head rose back up to rest against his own again, with the sound of soft breathing.
"Good night," Gilbert mumbled. "And don't move the leg while you sleep or it'll... it'll fall off."
Ludwig's expression fell from that--Really, Gilbert, my leg will fall off...--but he was too distracted by how flushed his face felt, and he did not trust his voice to speak. It was an overreaction, surely, and the kiss was as innocent as any. This was Gilbert, after all! But the fire felt too hot and the arms wrapped around him made him squirm.
His slight movements made Gilbert think he wanted to cuddle, so there was the added awkwardness of that to go with the confused thoughts, along with another tickle attempt, of all things, before Gilbert really did fall asleep. Only then did Ludwig remember to say: "Good night."
Taking a deep breath and mentally berating himself for his response, Ludwig eased back into what he only just realized was a comfortable 'bed.' At least more comfortable than Gilbert's, who had the hard tree at his back. Ludwig had been rescued, yelled at, bandaged up, allowed to use Gilbert as a cushion, and was told a bed time story--although he was far too old for those, he felt, and only just then realized he had been tricked into hearing one. How sly!
He couldn't help wonder, however, just how he would get on without his brother. But it wasn't a sad thought of days to come, as he wondered and marveled suddenly over maybe, just maybe, one day he could become useful too, and then Gilbert would need him to help out.
Make Gilbert need him like he needed Gilbert.
It was a flustering thought that Ludwig was quick to lock up. Snuggling the side of his face against the warm neck beside him and closing his eyes, sleep was slow to come as his thoughts persisted, but the ache of his leg dulled at the same time. If worse came to worse and his attempts don't work, there were always books to help him figure out how to do it. Because oddly enough, as forceful and commanding as Ludwig tried to be, it would take a lot more courage before he could even think about trying to--
"Stop thinking so hard or you're going to give yourself a headache..." came Gilbert's mumbled voice. "Sleep...!"
"I- I am!" And he did.
_____
A/N: Merry Belated Christmas, macht_schnell! I hope you liked it. ;u;
There were some things I wasn't able to fit in, like how I have this headcanon that involves Gilbert trolling (out of love!) Albrecht von Roon (Where did you think that unknown alcohol came from?) but I'm personally pretty happy with how this came out. =w= There were actually kind of two stories playing in this, since I've RPed as Prussia and have his PoV for this whole fic perfectly in my head. :3
And with all that said, I have to add: this is my first ever Hetalia fanfic! Yes, first! Critique is much appreciated, since I do hope to write more in the future. (Would anyone besides me even read it if I wrote something else in the future? 8D)
Title: (Im)mature Love
Characters: Germany/Ludwig and Prussia/Gilbert
Rating: PG
Warning: Blood
Prompt: "Hurt/comfort, lots of fluff - one is injured, the other one helps the other feel better, AU or canon."
A/N: This story. It is long. And the fluff. I hope it exists well enough. orz I tend to think puppy love = fluff. The prompt was also fairly open ended so I took some liberties, such as giving it some historical flavoring. I normally write from Prussia's PoV, but this kind of story seemed more suiting with Germany's so I hope it came over well. :3 As a story-related note, Ludwig is supposed to be about 14 while Gilbert would be about 25.
"Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.'
Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you'"
[ Eric Fromm ]
1878
Fields flashed by in floods of green and gray. Ludwig could feel the rise and fall of the hills in his stomach even as the horse seemed to fly over them with the sound of pounding hooves. A small wood snaked alongside them, weaving in and away for quite some time before it suddenly vanished in favor of open farmland. Golden stalks of barley swayed idly and the air held an autumn crispness about it. Bundled up tightly in his black tweed jacket--buttoned all the way up to the collar as Ludwig insisted it was supposed to be, to Gilbert's obvious bemusement--beige woolen breeches, and a heavy deep blue coat on top, the chill barely seeped in. Not that it would have bothered him if it did as the chase had drawn all of his attention.
Commanding insistent words of encouragement to his horse, adding in a whip of the reigns, and nudging the heel of his black leather boot into the flank did nothing to urge the animal on any faster. Or in fact, his horse did speed up as commanded, but his brother simply continued to out-ride him. Gilbert had taken the lead early on and continued to hold it strong. Every once in a while Gilbert would appear to slow down, allow his horse to run diagonally or make an exaggerated loop around a tree or open fest post. At that point, Ludwig would again resort to urging his horse on, demanding speed while confidently telling it that they were almost there, that it was just only a little bit further.
Just as soon as the opportunity presented itself, it was lost with the sound of Gilbert's shouts of joking and mocking encouragements. "You don't need to bring your mount to a trot on a dinky hill!" was yelled out just ten minutes outside the city limits. "Don't tell me you're stopping to look at the scenery already!" came half an hour later.
"Just slow down already, Gilbert!" Ludwig called back. "This is reckless!" But it was more than just that: it was the taste of being underestimated, of finding himself lacking. Ludwig had swelled with pride when the tailor had to be brought in again for a new wardrobe, it being the second time the man had had to arrive with his measure tape and array of fabric within a year. Yet even with Gilbert beaming and grabbing the tape measure to check Ludwig's height for himself, Ludwig still couldn’t help notice how he still had to tilt his chin up to look Gilbert in the eye. Still small, still growing, and still unable to get his horse to match his brother’s mount in stride and speed.
The only reason Ludwig followed along in this venture was because Gilbert had promised that they would go hunting, just the two of them. For successfully leading and completing a practice military maneuver, it was to be Ludwig's reward. Why or when his brother ever thought hunting was one of Ludwig's interests was a mystery. He hadn't ever showed any interest in boars or deer before and, at the end of the day, all training with rifles and canons was for military purposes anyway. A canon, pushed around wooden wheels that were as quiet as a hammer pounding on steel, wasn't much use in the woods, after all.
Gilbert called him an idiot first and foremost. "You have a king now, West, and all good kings go hunting. Are you really going to sit at home like some old man while he's off having all the fun?" Having half a mind to simply say 'Yes,' Ludwig was cut off by a brisk laugh and crooked grin. "We'll head out tomorrow, just the two of us!"
Not that it was much in Ludwig's habit to say no, especially not to his elder, there was something else in the way Gilbert had said that which had made Ludwig nod instead and hold his tongue. On a rare occurrence of using his imagination, the young blond couldn't help but envision it. In the quiet of the forest, the two of them would kneel shoulder to shoulder with bated breath, ducked behind a fallen tree for cover as a deer naively walked towards them as it searched for food. The ring of metal would brush by Ludwig's fingers as he calmly, completely in control of himself and his nerves with his palms not sweating at all and his breath perfectly managed, would wait. Gilbert would whisper instructions under his breath, telling the younger to hold; telling him to raise his gun; telling him to fire.
An imagination was quickly something Ludwig was quick to judge as being overrated, what with Gilbert's actual idea of 'just the two of us' involving just the two of them with enough space between them to fit in the Brandenburg Gate on good moments and the Cologne Cathedral on bad ones.
The open field narrowed once more as the woods crept up close to him on the right, forcing him off the grassy field and back onto the dirt path. The sound of the hooves beating on the ground grew louder. On his other side a dry riverbed curved parallel alongside him, but on the other side of the dried up river lay another wide expanse of land. Looking across the open field, he could see the indirect route the road was taking, with what appeared to be a speck of a bridge far off in the distance. How inefficient.
Spotting the turn of Gilbert's head up ahead, most likely following the path of the riverbed with his eyes from what he could see, it appeared his brother noticed this problem as well. But inefficient or not, the bridge was built up ahead for a reason, surely, and it wouldn't do to forsake it.
His elder seemed to think otherwise. The black horse up ahead more or less charged in and out of the shallow riverbed, scrambling down and making a leap out from the bottom with rocks crumbling off of the dry dirt walls. His brother whooped in delight and, for once, fell back to let his horse walk. Ludwig was relieved to do the same.
White hair completely wind-swept, his cheeks flushed, and the blue military jacket with the unbuttoned collar at the neck, Gilbert smirked across the way and looked entirely impish. "Don't think you need to pull any classy stunts like that today, West," he said, but gave that expectant look of his which told Ludwig that yes, he did need to follow after.
The expectation made Ludwig swallow hard but he kept a determined face. Gilbert continued to look at him with red eyes unwavering but Ludwig was unable to keep the eye-contact for much longer than a second before the awkwardness set in. The second he looked away, he heard a short laugh and Gilbert was off again, running free as he always did.
Although his own horse was walking on strong, it was obviously worn out from the ride. Ludwig didn't want to push it any harder than necessary, knew that he shouldn't, but there was an insistent thought that said he should. Knowing Gilbert would be listening for the sound of him leaving the path, Ludwig sighed, his mouth set in a rigid line of determination, and he went for it.
Picking up the pace, moving into a brisk trot then into a light run, Ludwig quickly scanned his eyes over the stream bed ahead, with the river of dry pebbles, rocks, and weeds flowing on his left side and looking completely uninviting. Yet his reluctance left him and he was filled with a sudden urge to do this. Gilbert was riding the same type of horse as Ludwig--an older one, which should mean Ludwig should have the advantage in this attempt--and the stream bed looked the same behind and up ahead, so the present was as good a time as any. With a commanding shout of "Now!" he rerouted his horse to the left.
They went down together, boy and horse, as the rocks proved just as unstable here as when Gilbert had gone in. His horse had not scrambled down but sought to jump across in full. It missed. Hooves found little grip as rocks rolled pebbles scurried away on the sloping riverbed wall. Ludwig gripped the reigns, pulled them to try to steady the animal and turn it to the side away from its present course to climb out, but instead the horse reared. Down they went, all the way, with the field of grass vanishing behind walls of dirt and a carpet of rocks to catch their fall. Only then did the horse tried to turn to the side, but the collapse came with Ludwig's heart jumping to his throat.
The only sound was the horse screaming and whinnying while the rocks continued to crunch and crumble. The pain in Ludwig's leg seared hot but his own shout got stuck in his throat. The horse was a stubborn one and refused to stay down. Trying to separate himself, a blank panic overcoming him, Ludwig only managed to remove his top foot from the stirrup while his other leg was crushed in the horse's attempt and failure to rise again and again. One arm reached out to grab onto something, anything, and pull himself out from under while his other hand sought to push the horse off. The rocks were small and the dirt, digging into his fingernails, was too dry to give him any leverage.
His heart nearly burst from his chest when he felt something grip around his ankle and yank him back. But it was Gilbert, yelling and cursing his head off. Ludwig barely had the sense to watch as his own foot was shoved back into the stirrup, but he could still feel the clenching hold on his ankle. Grabbing onto the horse reigns, Gilbert leaned back for what looked to be all he was worth. With the way his older brother's toothy grin had resorted to tightly clenching teeth, it was obvious that he was putting all of his weight into it. And when the horse rose up to its feet, Ludwig really did cry out when the pressure was let off. Both hands shot out to grip his leg and squeeze it. Blood was seeping above the boot cuff, but then he saw that the horse was cut and scrapped too. More so than his own pain, it was seeing the bloodied side and flank of his horse that made him ashamed of what he had tried to do.
"Stupid!" Gilbert snapped. Ludwig could not bring himself to look him in the eye. "Are you an idiot? What did I tell you earlier!?" Wasting no time, his brother rubbed the horse on the nose a few times to calm it--doing little good as Gilbert's own fury only seemed to provoke the animal further--and was swiftly leading and pulling the animal back up and out of the riverbed, back onto the dirt path by the woods.
It was difficult for Ludwig to keep his place in the saddle with both hands gripping his leg. "You said..." Trying to squeeze his legs to hold his place made tears come to his eyes. "Not to try anything," Ludwig muttered. Even if Gilbert had given him that look, it never worked to say, but we both know you wanted me to do it.
"You're damn right I did! Your speed was all wrong, for one." Gilbert led the horse across the road and tied the reigns to a low-hanging tree branch. "What the hell was that kind of entry? Were you jumping in or diving in headfirst?"
"I..." Ludwig's face was burning, but luckily real tears were not coming. He could barely breathe from the pain. "I don't know."
"Damn right you didn't know!" Ludwig took a chance to look directly at him and regretted it. Gilbert looked murderous. Even his hair looked to be in disarray. Ludwig couldn't help leaning back when Gilbert came to a stop on his good side. Another long look was exchanged before Ludwig realized that Gilbert's flush of anger was on top of a stark paleness. That only seemed to make him more ashamed than before.
Gilbert reached out to take Ludwig's arm and hold him on his back, helping him from the saddle. Still wearing his deep blue military jacket--gold buttons rising up from waist to neck--along with his heavy brown boots, black wool trousers, but with his missing look of general contentment, Gilbert struck as an intimidating figure in his anger. Ludwig did not push him away when the elder wrapped an arm across his back and helped him limp into a forest clearing of red and golden leaves. He also managed to keep his hiss of pain into a simple, stifled gasp when he accidentally bent his leg while being eased onto the ground.
"Let's see..." Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, towering over Ludwig while he inspected the leg with his eyes. The cloth was ripped and dirtied from knee to mid-thigh. Kneeling down in a motion so swift that Ludwig thumped his head back against the tree trunk behind him, Gilbert withdrew a short blade from his boot and cut through the pant cloth at the knee. The wound still bled lightly and the cloth had matted and buried into the open flesh, so the cloth had to be peeled and pulled off centimeter by centimeter. "Now that is a grim sight."
"It... it looks worse than it feels." It looked horrendous, with small specks of dirt and rock adding to the destruction of it all.
A heavy and unexpected smack landed on Ludwig's shoulder. "Ow-- Hey! What was that--"
"If you looked any tenser, I'd be afraid you might fall to pieces before I got started." Gilbert laughed, suddenly seeming to find a sense of levity, and Ludwig frowned, albeit a painful one. "Don't scowl like that. You forget it's me here! Just leave it all to the extraordinary Gilbert!" That day's less-than-extraordinary Gilbert rose up to his feet and began shuffling through Ludwig's saddlebag.
"Shouldn't we go back to town?" Ludwig asked. He tried to remove his boot but was only left having to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out.
Gilbert came back over with his water tin, the cap swiftly removed by his deft fingers. "We're probably not going hunting anymore, that's for sure," he said as he poured it out over Ludwig's leg.
Ludwig was wrong. It wasn't water. And he really did scream that time, with Gilbert's hands reaching out to grab his wrists to stop him from touching anything.
"Yup," Gilbert said, the look of disappoint obvious past Ludwig's watering eyes. The disappointment was almost comical in its presentation, which irritated Ludwig to no end. Was this really a laughing matter? "No more hunting."
"T-Then let's go back to town." Ludwig tried to wipe the back of his sleeve across his forehead, where he could feel sweat beading already, but Gilbert held on strong.
"Don't want to."
"I... I want to," he said forcefully.
"No you don't. You wanted to go hunting, just the two of us! Don't think I didn't see how excited you looked when I suggested that great idea!"
A flush came over his cheeks but Ludwig still felt a knot in his stomach and the burn of the alcohol seeking further and further into his leg. "You just said we weren't going hunting."
"Yeah, well." Gilbert shrugged carelessly and looked down at the leg. Only when Ludwig looked down again too did he see the ragged tear on both knees of his brother's pants and the dirt-covered kneecaps. "A night of camping won't be so bad... Heh! I wouldn't want to disappoint you by taking away some bonding time with me!" Ludwig must have had a peculiar expression on his face because Gilbert only seemed to grin all the wider a moment later.
The set up for their 'camp' was quick, since they had planned to use the royal hunting lodge by the Black Forest and had not brought many supplies. Gilbert brought his horse back over from the other side and retrieved his flint, water--he promised repeatedly it was water this time--and blanket. The attention to Ludwig's injured leg was painful but luckily Gilbert had steady hands and worked quickly. The dirt and rocks had to be pried out, making the blood run freely once more. It was a messy business and Ludwig was secretly glad that he wasn't the one who had to do it. With fingers clenched at his sides, he tried to act strong while not actually looking at the process.
When the boot had to come off so it could be bandaged properly, Ludwig finally asked what he already knew: "It's broken, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but you'll recover fast," Gilbert replied gently, happily, and patted him on the head. The hand lingered for a moment, making Ludwig feel like a kid but at the same time it wasn't quite that. Although it wasn't needed, Gilbert pulled his other boot off, too, saying that now he didn't look so lopsided.
When the white bandage finally came on, wrapped tight enough to ease the pain away as only his brother knew how to do, Ludwig finally found himself able to relax from the tension that had been eating away at him. Gilbert appeared to find a heightened levity again, for even Ludwig could hear the deep breath the man inhaled and exhaled before clapping his hands excitedly together.
"So with you all bandaged and crippled, what to do now!" Gilbert announced excitedly. Too excitedly.
"I'm not crippled, Gilbert."
"Firewood, of course! Don't want your little toes to freeze and fall off!"
"Wha-- I wear the same sized boots as you do!" Ludwig looked at his toes, perfectly warm and still attached to his foot inside the black sock. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gilbert look at them too, followed by his brother reaching out to pinch them with pale fingers.
Toes wiggled to fend him the touch off.
"Is that so." Another pinch.
Ludwig bent his leg up--luckily the good one--to escape, all the while thinking, and giving the expression of, what the hell, Gilbert?
Suddenly he was roaring with laughter, squirming, and trying to punch Gilbert in the face with shouts of "Stop, stop!" all at the same time while fingers scratched at his sides and under his arms. Childish, all of it, but with tears of laughter in his eyes Ludwig sought to retaliate. His brother leaned to the side to dodge it, laughing nearly just as loudly, but the game ended when Ludwig shouted out in pain when his injured leg was knocked into and this time he really did manage to punch Gilbert away in the chest.
"OW!"
There was guilt, surely, but... "I told you to knock it off!"
"It was just a bit of fun! Seriously, West, you take things too... seriously! Stop being so worried, it's just a leg, it'll heal."
"That? I'm not worried at all!"
"Really? Because you know if by some freak chance you lose the leg, I can always just go kick some guy's asses again and get you a new one, we do have a few neighbors wanting rematche--"
"Gilbert!" All that did was cause more laughter and for Gilbert to find some cause to pinch Ludwig on the cheek. The second the pinch was done, Ludwig's hand shot up to cover the flush.
"Firewood, right, I'm on it!" Going first to the saddle bags, Gilbert vanished into the woods.
Why he needed to take his gun with him for firewood--Ludwig couldn't help but grin a little when some wild thoughts came to mind--was later told when he heard the few shots fire and a plump rabbit was carried back by its ears along with an armful of twigs and branches. The leaves were quickly brushed away, leaving Gilbert's sleeves dirty but the response of "Gees, they're only sleeves, West. Have you seen what happened to my pants?" cut that conversation off quickly.
The two saddlebags were taken off of the horses, stacked together, and used to prop-up Ludwig's leg. Sitting with his back to the tree trunk, the only thing he was left to do was watch as the fire was struck up and the rabbit was put on a cooking rack made of twigs and string. It was times like those that reminded him that although his brother was very often times an idiot, the man had a keen sense of ingenuity.
It was only just starting to get dark when supper was served. All they had to drink was water and what turned out to be a few drops of the strong liquor Gilbert had used for wound cleaner. Both had expected to be well into Bavaria by then, where the beer flowed freely, but the water went well enough. Bread and some apple slices completed the quaint meal.
"There are more of those rabbits out there," Gilbert informed him, collecting up the plated and breaking the twigs of his cooking rack to let them burn in the fire. "We can have a feast in the morning!" Grabbing the two blankets that had been taken from the saddlebags, he threw one around his own shoulders before coming back over to where Ludwig was sitting. "Here, move a bit, it's cold."
Less than the expectation of simply having the other blanket thrown on him, Gilbert was literally trying to move him. "Wait, what are you--"
"I said move, West!"
Unceremoniously, Ludwig was pushed away from his tree to have his backrest replaced with... Gilbert.
"What are you doing!?" Ludwig asked, but it was obvious. Gilbert sat behind him now, using the tree trunk for his own back support while Ludwig's back was pressed to Gilbert's chest. His face flushed when arms snaked under his arms and threw the blanket over his legs. Over both of their legs, with the other pairs boxing Ludwig in and finally having him surrounded on all sides.
Gilbert laughed and started to tickle him again before Ludwig elbowed him in the stomach. "O-Ow... It gets cold at night, West. The fire only does you so much good."
It was true enough. Plus the soft chest was infinitely better than the tree trunk. "Fine, but would you stop trying to tickle me? I'm not a child. And he buttons on your jacket..." As much as he didn't want to say anything, they were digging painfully into back.
"I know, I know! You say so often enough." The sigh was surprisingly loud in Ludwig's ear, reminding him just how closely they sat and just how close in height they were. There was more jostling while Gilbert began to undo his jacket, but when it was opened and Ludwig's back felt warmer, it caused him to feel more awkward than before. "Herr Ludwig, Deutschland." Although he couldn't remember just the last time they had sat like this, he suddenly felt more mature, more adult, and how sitting like this felt... more intimate than normal. "Forever old and boring." Really, Gilbert always seemed to be off in his own world and thoughts. It was a wonder Ludwig was maturing at all, under his guidance. "Hah! You may look the part better but I feel like I'm the one who's a kid here!"
Ludwig didn't smile, but he reached a hand up behind him and mussed Gilbert's hair. "Good boy, Gilbert."
"Huh?" Owlish red eyes looked at him, then an unexpected flush overcame the elder's cheeks. The sight of it vanished when Gilbert dropped his forehead to Ludwig's shoulder.
"What?" He wasn't sure what just happened. "Are you really going to be acting like a kid now?"
Chuckling, Gilbert said, "How 'bout a good bed time story? Or are you too old and boring for those now?" The soft laughter rippled through the both of them and felt comfortable and familiar.
"I'd think you would be the one too old for something like that..." Arms squeezed tightly around his waist and Gilbert took a chance to look up, eyes wistful and almost pathetic-like, like a sad old dog even if his brother did not look old at all. It would have been a sly move, but Ludwig had learned over the years that his brother didn't actually do that particular look on purpose. A surprise, given all the other ways of manipulation Gilbert had in his arsenal.
"Haven't you heard them all before? You know my leg hurts. Can't we just go to sleep..."
"Of course I've heard them all! But you know them better than I do--although I do tell them with a much more awesome way than you do, but I'll let you tell it this time! There's always time for sleep later, and you can take another drink of the good stuff to fight off the pain. So... So tell the one about those kids getting lost in the wood! With the candy."
"Won't that only make you hungry?"
As always, Gilbert was not keen to have his plans shot down. "West, seriously, we just ate. Plus it will take your mind of things."
Sighing and nestling back into the cushion behind him, Ludwig began the story of Hansel and Gretel. His leg throbbed painfully in the background like insistent and clumsy music that hit all the wrong notes. When he got to the part about Hansel being locked up by the Candy Witch, however, Gilbert jumped right into the telling, snatching up the story and running wild with it. It was not the first time and Ludwig simply let him have it.
As the retelling went, when Hansel was locked up in the stable, Gretel kicked down the door and rescued him. When the witch tried to get Gretel to climb into the stove, Gretel did a most un-Gretel like thing, in Ludwig's opinion, by telling the witch where she could shove her damn stove.
Ludwig would have been almost convinced of Gilbert's tenacity and creativity in this story telling if he didn't slip up by saying "West" instead of "Hansel" at least three times in his new telling.
"Then after Gretel had given West all the candy he wanted, she faced off with evil Witch," Gilbert raved on.
For one, it was a surprise that Gilbert had casted himself as Gretel, the girl. For another, it wasn't all that surprising since both started with G and Gilbert was only so creative when it came to stories and writing--Ludwig had seen the library of journals, after all. At least he didn't mistake West and Witch for the Ws.
"The Witch was French, by the way."
"Yes, you said that earlier, Gilbert."
Regardless of how psychotic the retelling was, Ludwig enjoyed the fervor of it all. It wasn't exactly relaxing, with his brother getting into it by waving his arms and being like an earthquake. But by the end, Ludwig was resting his head back on Gilbert's shoulder and watching the man's face which shone with excitement. From what he could see, Gilbert really thought it all to be real at that moment.
"But Gretel smacked that Witch into a coma with one the gingerbread door of that awesome candy house. Using some candy rope"--it seemed putting 'candy' in front of regular items made them sugary--"she strung the evil, sinister witch up by the ankles in the tree, with her dress falling over her head and her ugly, Austrian-patched underwear exposed to everyone! The End!" Gilbert positively cackled at that and Ludwig couldn't help but smile.
"It was a good story, brother." A long retelling, with several side adventures, but luckily the fire was still warm and the few sips from the hard drink helped even if it did make him sleepy.
"Of course!" Gilbert said, followed by a surprise snuggle against the side of Ludwig's head. Embarrassing as it was, Ludwig returned the gesture with his own arms hugging over where Gilbert's arms wrapped around him. "Made the pain go away, didn't it?"
"No, not really." With the other quickly looking crestfallen and with a sudden urge to please him, Ludwig added, "It-- It only started hurting again when the story was done." That seemed to appease, as the grin returned.
With Ludwig using Gilbert's shoulder as a pillow, Gilbert rested his heavy head on Ludwig's. They sat in silence to the sound of the fire crackling loudly nearby. Ludwig could still hear the whisk of the horses' tails and the small stirring of animals and leaves in the night. The moon was a small sliver in a sky, framed by clouds and hidden behind branches that were mostly barren of their leaves.
"We'll have to go hunting next time," Gilbert said, suddenly interrupting the quiet. "You promise? Right when you're all healed up again, we'll right out! No questions asked!"
Ludwig was surprised Gilbert would have to ask that, with the older of them being the leader by default. He really is like a kid. "Yeah, we'll go right after I'm all healed." The fire warmed his feet, the body behind him warmed his back, and Gilbert's breath right by his ear sent shivers down his neck. "I'll become even stronger for the next trip," Ludwig insisted, his voice slightly higher than before."You'll see."
"That's what little kids say," Gilbert mumbled sleepily. "You think I doubt it? We'll become awesome together. Forever and"--he yawned and snuggled closer--"and ever. Now go to sleep."
Not expecting it, wondering whether or not it was done on purpose--those red eyes had been closed the whole time, hadn't they? Not that Ludwig had been able to see them if they had been--Gilbert dipped his head momentarily down and kissed him. Kisses weren't unusual for them, planted often and embarrassingly enough on cheeks, foreheads, and noses. Yet this one had caught him on the corner of the mouth. Unexpectedly soft lips for such a person, he noticed with eyes widening. Gilbert's head rose back up to rest against his own again, with the sound of soft breathing.
"Good night," Gilbert mumbled. "And don't move the leg while you sleep or it'll... it'll fall off."
Ludwig's expression fell from that--Really, Gilbert, my leg will fall off...--but he was too distracted by how flushed his face felt, and he did not trust his voice to speak. It was an overreaction, surely, and the kiss was as innocent as any. This was Gilbert, after all! But the fire felt too hot and the arms wrapped around him made him squirm.
His slight movements made Gilbert think he wanted to cuddle, so there was the added awkwardness of that to go with the confused thoughts, along with another tickle attempt, of all things, before Gilbert really did fall asleep. Only then did Ludwig remember to say: "Good night."
Taking a deep breath and mentally berating himself for his response, Ludwig eased back into what he only just realized was a comfortable 'bed.' At least more comfortable than Gilbert's, who had the hard tree at his back. Ludwig had been rescued, yelled at, bandaged up, allowed to use Gilbert as a cushion, and was told a bed time story--although he was far too old for those, he felt, and only just then realized he had been tricked into hearing one. How sly!
He couldn't help wonder, however, just how he would get on without his brother. But it wasn't a sad thought of days to come, as he wondered and marveled suddenly over maybe, just maybe, one day he could become useful too, and then Gilbert would need him to help out.
Make Gilbert need him like he needed Gilbert.
It was a flustering thought that Ludwig was quick to lock up. Snuggling the side of his face against the warm neck beside him and closing his eyes, sleep was slow to come as his thoughts persisted, but the ache of his leg dulled at the same time. If worse came to worse and his attempts don't work, there were always books to help him figure out how to do it. Because oddly enough, as forceful and commanding as Ludwig tried to be, it would take a lot more courage before he could even think about trying to--
"Stop thinking so hard or you're going to give yourself a headache..." came Gilbert's mumbled voice. "Sleep...!"
"I- I am!" And he did.
_____
A/N: Merry Belated Christmas, macht_schnell! I hope you liked it. ;u;
There were some things I wasn't able to fit in, like how I have this headcanon that involves Gilbert trolling (out of love!) Albrecht von Roon (Where did you think that unknown alcohol came from?) but I'm personally pretty happy with how this came out. =w= There were actually kind of two stories playing in this, since I've RPed as Prussia and have his PoV for this whole fic perfectly in my head. :3
And with all that said, I have to add: this is my first ever Hetalia fanfic! Yes, first! Critique is much appreciated, since I do hope to write more in the future. (Would anyone besides me even read it if I wrote something else in the future? 8D)