Request Stuff
By the way, these are probably pretty fail-tastic.
rosetintedstars just wanted anouthe Prussia/Hungry drabble thing, so I recycled one of my old ideas that I never really wrote out.
Gilbert had never imagined this scene in this particular manner. In his little dream world, it and always been him lying invalid on the bed, a beautiful woman taking care of him (Elizaveth, obviously) and a non-life threatening and non-pride threatening ailment resting on his chest. (Something cool like a non-fatal war wound, preferably one that didn’t cripple him.) But Antonio had always said that he would be grasping at straws to get that dream to come true. He was right, as the situation that Gilbert was in was practically the reverse of how it was supposed to be.
“Oi, idiot,” groaned the girl on the bed, her face flushed, “I’m hungry…” Gilbert clenched his fists in rage. The stupid woman had the gall to be rude and demanding from the person who was taking care of her! Her and her stupid fever!
“Haha, get it? I’m Hungary? I’m hungry?” Her laughter turned into a coughing fit and Gilbert sighed as he pushed her back against the pillows.
“I get it. I’ll go get you something.” He pushed the stood (bloody thing was so uncomfortable) back from the bed and shuffled down to the kitchen. He grabbed a random pot and placed it on the stove. He shuffled around in the cupboards until he found some canned soup. He read the side, shrugged, dumped the whole thing into the pot, poured in some more water and turned the stove on, putting a lid on the pot.
“Stupid Roderich, he can’t even stay and take care of this annoyance. N-O, he has to go rushing off to some stupid meeting halfway across the world! Oh, I am so sorry, Gilbert, but I can’t take care of Elizaveth because I have a dinner appointment! You take care of her! But no funny business or I’ll kill you.” He imitated Austria in a high falsetto. They’re not even married anymore! I can do whatever the hell I want! He thought in annoyance, but had to cut tirade short because the pot started to bubble over.
“Scheiße!” He swore, grabbing an oven mit and pulled the bubbling pot of the stove. “Scheiße,” He repeated as he opened the lid. A cloud of steam hit him in the face, accompanied by the bitter smell of burnt meat. Goddamit, he thought, she’s hallucinating, she won’t be able to tell. Then he scooped the least burnt bits into a bowl, grabbed a spoon and stomped up the stairs.
“Here,” he snapped, shoving the soup at her. Elizaveth looked at it. She looked at Gilbert. She looked at the soup again. Warily she raised the spoon to her mouth. He glared at her.
She barely managed to suppress a gag.
“On, second thought, I’m not very hungry… I think I’ll sleep,” She muttered, set down the bowl and leaned back. The covers rustled as they were pulled up to her chin. Gilbert had a silent seizure on the hard uncomfortable stool. She could at least thank him!
In her fevered state, Elizaveth had drifted off quickly, and was dozing silently. Gilbert sighed. Her hair was soft to the touch as he brushed it back from her forehead. He flinched back as she twitched in her sleep.
“Idiot…” she murmured, and Gilbert had to lean in to hear the insult. Tsk, typical. He sighed again (It seemed like he was doing that a lot lately). He stared at her sleeping face. The impulse hit him like a frying pan. He leaned over and gently kissed her. He straightened up and grinned. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
“You’re an idiot.” Elizaveth snapped as Gilbert sneezed loudly into the tissue. He glared at her. This was not fair. Why couldn’t anything work out for him?!
sapphire_pyro wanted something to do with Gilbert eating Arthur's cooking (LOL) and having people witness his fainting/dying/etc. I hope this makes sense, haha.
Click Click Click went the keys on Elizaveth’s laptop. She hummed a tuneless song as she browsed the internet. TaTing! A new email message popped up. She opened it to find that it was from Natalya.
I think that your boyfriend has just died a painful death for England’s cooking. He posted it on his blog. It’s here if you want to see it. I, personally, find it quite amusing.
-Love, Natalya
Elizaveth narrowed her eyes at the screen. My boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend. A new window opened up, the blog’s title proclaiming in a loud font ‘Ore-sama no Blog’.
Dear Lord. Gilbert. Why the hell was he suddenly coming over Japanese? Did he even know what Ore-sama no Blog meant? (He probably did, but that wasn’t the point.) With a growing sense of dread, Elizaveth clicked ENTER and was greeted by a barrage of pictures. The one that first caught her eye was the one of her attacking Gilbert with her handy dandy frying pan, but soon her eyes were drawn to a picture of Arthur, a big smile on his face, holding what looked like a badly burnt octopus with one of Alfred’s footballs on the side. She scanned the article and realized that Gilbert was going to eat that. Or rather, that he had eaten it.
Poor guy. What a way to go. She left a comment and closed the computer.
Wait… if he’s dead… Elizaveth jumped up and grabbed her jacket off the chair, rushing out of her house and up the road to Arthur’s.
She banged hard on the wooden door of the English man’s house. He opened the door, a look of terror crossing his features.
“Elizaveth, I didn’t mean, I mean, he asked to eat it, please don’t kill me-“
“Arthur. Where. Is. He.”
‘…Dining Room,” Elizaveth pushed past Arthur, unaware of the crowd of Europeans that were following her (Some wanted to help Gilbert, but most just wanted to laugh at him.)
Elizaveth strode into the room. She stopped, looked, and broke out laughing. Gilbert was splayed on the floor, the football half sticking out of his mouth. If Gilbert had been a nicer person one might have felt sorry for him. But, as he was not very nice, this was quite an entertaining scene.
Then, his foot twitched. All of Europe (and parts of Asia and North America) watched in amusement as he jerked to life, nearly knocking out a worried Arthur. The football thing flew across the room, knocking Alfred upside the head. His camera rapidly clicked, the flash blinding Arthur, who proceeded to stumble around the room knocking people and things over. Needless to say, the bystanders in this incident were finding this all quite amusing.
Gilbert shook his head slowly. He looked up at the laughing people. Then his face turned tomato red.
“I- I was just sleeping!” No one believed his story.
From that day on, Elizaveth never failed in reminding Gilbert of his screw up. It was really quite amusing.