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The man crawled from the warmth of his bed, and looked into the mirror that sat on the wall mocking him. Grabbing a comb off the dresser, he ran it through the dull white hair atop his head. His light blue eyes shifted towards a picture tucked into the frame of the mirror and a small and unnoticeable smile tugged at his pale and thin lips.

His fingers traced the happy little smile forever frozen in time in the faded photo. Drawing his hand away he nodded, what seemed to be a silent contract that he’d made with himself.

This man that stood in the middle of his small room now, might have appeared confident, but inside was a battle that he waged with his self every day. Although he was never ashamed of what he would do or what he’d done in his past.

A past that he’d never tried to keep hidden or fluff up to something it wasn’t. Not like that damn Gilbert on the other side. If you listened to him, you’d think he did and still ran the world. And that word - that word Gilbert used so bloody much - ugh, he hated it!

Also, he wasn’t fearful of what would happen to him. He knew, like what happened to all disbanded countries, he would disappear. There was no need to atone for his sins anymore.

His sins that he’d committed against the other nations and you. But, like most of the others, you’d forgive him. It was funny how the 1p’s thought they were nothing more than murderous freaks that killed for fun.

He looked back at the picture and smiled.

“You’re just…” he muttered to the girl in the picture that seemed to follow him. Was it only in his mind that the photo was asking what was wrong, and why he wouldn’t dare touch her? “…awes…” he almost said that word, somehow it must have been programmed into the mind of the country of Prussia on both sides.

He bent over and grabbed the pair of crumpled pants that were heaped on the floor, along with a grayish t-shirt, that had seen better days.

“Finally up?” A wolf whistle echoed into the room. “Man, look at da ass!”

He straightened his back quickly, and glanced over his shoulder. “Can you let me get dressed, (f/n)?” He stood like a knight from a past that had been long forgotten, a time when chivalry and honor reigned supreme. His head held high, his shoulders squared.

“Oh, come off it!” You grinned, and tossed yourself on his bed. “You’re in your jockey shorts, Gil. And it’s not like I haven’t seen what you’ve got before.” Laughing, you picked up the book on the nightstand, and started to flip through the pages.

“Do you mind?” Gilen asked, slipping on the faded black jeans. “I might not want you reading that, (f/n).”

You looked over the book that you had buried your nose in, and cocked an eyebrow at the man that slipped his shirt over his head. He was moody today more so than usual. You had a pretty good idea why, but he shouldn’t have been as far as you were concerned.

Your (e/c) eyes had trailed the faded and dark scars on his back. Such a painful set of roads forever burned into his skin, each stamped out to tell a tale.

“Fine,” you gently sat the leather bond book back on the nightstand. Sitting upright, you leaned against the headboard and rested your hands in your lap. “How are we doing today?”

“As good as one can be expected.” He pulled out the hem of the t-shirt, stretching it out.

You sighed, and knew it would take everything to get Gilen excited about today’s happenings. You were beyond excited, so he should have been too.

“So, guess what today is!” you exclaimed, bouncing from the bed and your feet hit the floor. You weren’t about to wait for him to answer, even if his mouth was opened ready to speak. “It’s the reunion!”

He nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed at the thought. He didn’t want to go some stupid reunion and listen to everyone talk about the past. Play horseshoe and eat Bar-B-Q. Then have all those dumb pictures and then, with no doubt, the stories would start.

“Can’t we just do something else, (f/n)?” Gilen asked, motioning for you to go out the door first. “We could go to the mall, you like doing that.”

Oh, boy. If Gilen was ready to sacrifice an afternoon at the mall, he must have been serious.

“…we could go the whole day…”

Scratch that! The whole day at the mall? He must have really not wanted to go.

“But, I made German potato salad,” you said, quickly walking down the stairs. “Roland and Erzsebet will be there.”

Those were the last two people he wanted to see. Gosh, why couldn’t he have the 1p’s Austria and Hungary? He was stuck with those two which made that baseball and hockey wielding duo look like a cupcake walk.

He followed you into the kitchen as you started to search for something, digging thru the cupboards that were piled full. Your face painted with determination from the disorganized mess of a kitchen.

How in the world did he and you end up in this polar opposite world? You both seemed to be perfectly normal compared to those on this side.

No matter how many times he bought it up to you, you would laugh and ask what was wrong with the nations here. He could have listed off about a hundred and half things, but it wouldn’t matter.

He just couldn’t believe how well adjusted him and you were. How everything synced with you. Nothing like how the 1p’s explained you. Heck, they couldn’t have been farther from what you were really like!

“Ah ha! Awesome!” you shouted, pulling out a few plastic spoons. “I told them that we would bring extra serving spoons.”

“So, we’re really going?” he asked, his eye twitched from your choice of previous words, and he dropped down in the kitchen chair. “I’ll buy you one of those pretzels you like, and anything else you want.”

“Gilen,” you said, piling the bowl of salad and utensils in your hands. “Everyone was excited when I said you’d be coming. Now get your butt in gear and get in the car, you have to hold the salad.”

“But…”

“I’ll duct tape your hands and feet and put ya in the damn trunk, Gil.” You said, glancing behind you. A serious look scribbled a crossed your face that even the meanest tiger would have back down from. “So…”

“…fine.” He cut you off. He didn’t have to wonder if your threat was mere boastfulness, he knew you would and had done it to others before. He cringed at the thought of the tape being ripped off his wrist and from his mouth. Careful wasn’t part of your vocabulary sometimes.

“Awesome,” you said arrogantly and he held the door open for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It had been a tiring day, but you seemed to be have the time of your life. You’d used the word awesome, like it was going out of style. He had to wonder if you just did it to get his goat.

He couldn’t help but notice how you danced around the green yard, much like the balls he and you used to attend. You chitchatted and giggled at the right times, battered your eyelashes or retold gallant tales. More like the former lady-in-waiting that you used to be, before time took its toll here and there.

Gilen, on the other hand, stayed close to your side. White on rice would have been spot on. He did nothing to appear of member of the realm, former or not. Looking at him now, you wouldn’t be able to know what a great knight he was.

You seemed to have stayed by the American and English lad more than the others. Even with the Frenchman and Canadian nearby, Gilen didn’t mind one bit to gossip with them. Other than Oliver, the other three were quiet, unless Al and Mattie started to bicker. And that happened when the two brothers got into a match of testosterone, which only happened when one tried to outdo the other.

Gilen had managed to pull you away from the group to a lone table away from the rest, but still close enough that you couldn’t say he was being antisocial.

He leaned back on the picnic table and watched his brother and the fierce Italian arm wrestle. You sat on the top of the table, with your feet sitting on the seat, nursing a warming cup of soda.

The Italian slammed the brawny arm of the German on the wooden table, grinning. He turned his gaze towards the lonely looking Gilen. “You’re next!”

“I don’t think so.” Gilen said, taking his drink off the table and finishing it off. “I…”

“He’s scared I’ll beat him!” The Italian went on and on, most of the others snickered and pointed at the Prussian that seemed to grow more anxious by the minute. “I thought you were awesome ?

“Hey!” You yelled and jumped off the picnic table. “Why don’t you shut your mouth?”

“Ooh, he’s got his little girlfriend to defend him!” Fiorello snorted. “Well come on, ragazza!” he pointed over to him with a beckoning finger. “You and me, right now!”

“(f/n),” Gilen warned, grabbing your forearm. “Don’t let your temper get the best of you, he’s…”

“You’re going down!” You said, pulling your arm away. “I’ll have you crying like Feli for Ludwig when I’m done with you!”

You sat at the table and he sat opposite of you. Propping your elbow on the tabletop, you ready to duel with him.

*~*~*~*~~*

“Here,” Gilen said, wrapping the ice into a towel. He sat next to you resting the towel on your wrist. “I hope you learned your lesson.”

“He cheated!” you cried and winced as the cold ice came in contact with your burning skin. “I wasn’t ready and…”

The Prussian raised a finger and placed it on your lips to silent you. You thought that he was about to read you the riot act for not thinking things thru. Being headstrong, like that, never won wars. You had to plan each move on the battlefield. He pursed his lips, forming them into a small, but noticeable grin. “(f/n), you’re not being awesome right now.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Pfft…awesome.”