Happy Birthday Fritz!

“I told you I didn’t want this.”

“You act as if I actually had a hand in the matter.” Prussia casually plopped his elbow on Fritz’s shoulder, enjoying his height advantage. “This was all Wilhelmine’s idea.” He nearly tripped as Fritz shoved him off.

“Typical,” Frederick replied, sipping his drink to clear his countenance. He wasn’t fond of having his birthday celebrated—honestly, what was the point?—and had told Gilbert multiple times that he did not want a party. Leave it to the kingdom to find some sort of loophole in that statement. “Why did she do this? She of all people should know that I hate parties centered around myself.” He didn’t mind regular masquerades and balls, since they were not very important anyway, but one such as these had all of the attention focused solely on him, forcing him to keep up a constant mask.

Gilbert leaned against the wall, far more relaxed than his ruler was. He gulped his wine. “Lay off a little, Fritz. She’s just trying to make you happy.”

“No guilt tripping,” Fritz murmured over the rim of his own glass. He heard Gilbert laugh.

Suddenly one of the women from the crowd detached herself from the rest and made her way toward them. People greeted her as she passed and she bowed her head politely in return. “It’s not a good impression to sulk at your own party Frederick,” Wilhelmine said once she was beside them.

He scowled at his older sister, which only amused her. “I am not sulking,” he said.

Wilhelmine smiled patiently and Gilbert laughed. “Oh he is, don’t let him trick you,” the albino said, again leaning his elbow on Fritz. He had to duck away as Fritz swatted at him.

“Stop it, both of you,” Wilhelmine chided them, placing herself between them. “Gilbert, stop teasing him, Frederick, at least smile. Everyone will feel bad for going through all of this work and not being able to make the King happy.”

Fritz shook his head. “Ah, dearest sister, but I am happy, see?” He smiled, bright and warm and cheerful. But his eyes were bitter and sarcastic, clearly labeling his words as a joke. “You see, everyone just looks at the face, and they ignore what lies behind the eyes. If I went up to someone looking like this, they would wish me well and never ask what was really wrong with me. Shallow as rain puddles, all of them.”

Wilhelmine frowned a little at his misanthropic statement. “You can’t possibly think that of everyone,” she protested. “Most of the time you don’t even bother to—“ she stopped as a pair approached them. It was the Saxon ambassador, along with some baron whose name she couldn’t remember. They came to congratulate the King and pay their respects before inevitably vanishing back into the crowd.

Frederick glared at their backs as they retreated. “And that’s why I hate this. Everyone is always congratulating me. Hooray, I managed to survive another year of living, big deal.” Now a grimace was etched into his features. He finished the rest of his wine in one gulp and set the empty glass on a nearby table. “I’m going outside. Come on, Gilbert.”

“Not very subtle Frederick,” Wilhelmine said, disapproval written all over her face.

Fritz gave her a charming smile that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “I have a headache,” he said slowly. “I want some fresh air. It’s Gilbert’s job to protect me, so he has to accompany me.” He gave her wink. “Be back in a few minutes.” Then he turned and left, somehow slipping through the crowds and out the door like a phantom. Gilbert laughed again, shrugged at the irritated princess, and followed him.

The only person they saw when they were travelling down the hall was a servant carrying a load of towels. She bowed to them as they passed and then scurried away. “Finally,” Fritz sighed in relief as they came to the main doors. He grabbed a scarf from the nearby rack and wrapped it around himself before going outside.

A blast of cold air greeted them. “I thought you hated the cold,” Prussia remarked as they started to walk along the palace, keeping close to the walls so the wind couldn’t come at them from all sides.

“Ah, the annoying crowds of the masses or nature’s freezing wrath. A cruel choice indeed!” Frederick said dramatically, drawing his coat closer around himself.

Gilbert smiled and scanned the surrounding area. “Damn. If there was snow on the ground then I would ask if you wanted to build a snowman.”

A sly smile twisted the monarch’s lips. “Not that little trick again,” he said, glancing into the windows as they passed by. Not a single soul in sight.

“But it was such an awesome trick, and it had so many rewards.” Gilbert’s voice was low and smooth and his hand trailed down Fritz’s spine to rest against the small of his back. “Didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did,” Fritz agreed, for once not pulling away from the touch. Public place or not, they were still alone so it didn’t matter. He allowed himself to be pulled closer and that hand to slip around his side, resting just above his hip. Pressed so close against his country, Fritz noticed that he was shivering a little. He looked up and noticed in dismay that was still wearing his court clothes that Fritz had spent nearly an hour talking him into wearing. While they made him look incredibly attractive, they were quite poor in providing warmth from the cold. “You silly thing,” he said, his tone affectionate despite his words. “Didn’t you think of grabbing a coat?”

“Not really,” Gilbert said, trying to hide his shivering behind a smile.

It didn’t work. Fritz clicked his tongue at him and started to take off his scarf. “Here,” he said, wrapping it around Gilbert’s bare neck. “Where’s your cravat?”

“I took it off.” Gilbert replied, grinning at Fritz’s long-suffering sigh. “What? They’re so stuffy and tight.” He pulled the scarf more snugly around himself, and then frowned. “Hey wait a minute, now you’re going to get cold.”

“No I won’t,” Fritz said, trying to turn his collar up to cover his neck.

“Yes you will! Take it back, I’m fine.” He started to unwrap the clothing only the have Fritz slap his hands away and put it back on.

“Stop that! I gave it to you for a reason, just take it!”

For a moment they struggled, each insisting that the other wear the scarf. It ended when Gilbert managed to pull away nearly half the length of the scarf and wrap it around Fritz. “There, now we both have it,” he said, beaming proudly. They had to stand quite close together in order for it to cover them both comfortably, but it worked.

Frederick plucked at it. “This looks ridiculous,” he said, although he made no move to change it.

“I think it’s kind of cute actually,” Gilbert said. He reached out and tucked it more securely around his king’s neck.

As he worked, a stream of music drifted through the air, marking the beginning of a new song. Fritz smiled and stepped closer to Gilbert so he didn’t have to talk so loud. “Well, it makes it easier for my purposes. Come, dance with me.”

Gilbert blinked in confusion. “What?” he asked.

A chuckle left his lips. “If you will notice, I have you all to myself,” he said softly, watching Gilbert grin at the familiar words. “The windows of the palace don’t face this way, and everyone is at the party anyways.” He took one of Gilbert’s hands in his own and slid his free hand down his back, mirroring what Gilbert had done to him earlier. “Now shut up and dance with me.” He sealed his statement with a kiss.

“As you wish,” Gilbert murmured and nipped him on the lip before straightening up. After a moment of listening, they both began a slow allemande that eventually built up until they were twirling around the confines of space that they had. “Dancing,” Gilbert scoffed as they moved. He rolled his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better I’d call you a sissy aristocrat.”

“Well, I am an aristocrat,” Fritz said, squeezing the hand in his own. “And you are a liar. You told me that you couldn’t dance.” He gave a pointed look at Gilbert’s shoes.

Prussia rolled his eyes again. “I hate dancing. I told you that so I could escape it.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Frederick protested. “Better than my wife, that’s for certain.”

Gilbert tried not to laugh. “I don’t like it though,” he repeated. “At least, not any vertical dancing.” If his words weren’t enough of an innuendo, the way he leaned closer and breathed the words into his king’s ear was.

“Mmm,” Fritz said, his eyes sliding half closed. “Both have their advantages.”

“Which do you prefer?” Gilbert wondered, drawing his thumb across the back of Fritz’s hand.

Frederick pretended to think hard about the answer. “Well,” he said slowly, turning his head so that his lips brushed against Gilbert’s jaw, “that would depend entirely on how skilled my partner is.” Gilbert tilted his head down and quickly captured him in a kiss before he could pull away, and their movements came to a slow halt. Somewhere in the background the music ended, but that wasn’t important anymore.

When they pulled apart Prussia gave him a rare, heartfelt smile. “Happy Birthday,” he said. Although another year tacked onto his beloved’s life hurt him in more ways than he could imagine, he still had a small measure of happiness left somewhere inside of him.

He heard a groan and Fritz plopped his head onto his shoulder. “Not you too.” His king’s hands hugged him around the waist and pulled him closer. “Why can’t we celebrate something that actually matters? What about your birthday? The Kingdom of Prussia has withstood another year against his enemies, that’s important.”

Gilbert laughed quietly, rather touched by the idea. “Well, you’re a little late for that,” he said, playing with one of Fritz’s many curls.

“What do you mean by that?” Fritz asked suspiciously. “Did your birthday already pass by?”

“Mhmm,” Prussia hummed. “It was on the 18^th.”

Frederick paused for a moment as the information sunk in. Then he stepped back so he could look Gilbert in the eye. “You mean to tell me that your birthday was less than a week ago?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

An amused smile stretched across his face. “Because you would have tried to celebrate it in some way,” he replied, pulling Fritz back to him. “And, mein Schatz, I hate parties that are thrown for me.”

Fritz’s fist connected with his chest, but it wasn’t intended to hurt him, just show his King’s frustration. “You hypocrite,” Fritz hissed out. “You dirty little—“ a kiss cut him off, no doubt Prussia copying what he himself did on many occasions.

“None of that now,” Gilbert said playfully. “No complaining, not when I still have to give you your awesome birthday present later.”

The implications of that statement were blindingly obvious. Frederick felt his temper cool almost immediately. “Shame on me,” he said, letting his hands dip lower, to the base of his spine. “Since I didn’t know your birthday, I never got you a gift. How regretful.” He grinned.

“You can make up for it,” Gilbert told him with a positively lewd smirk. “I’ll give you your gift, then you can give me mine.”

Fritz’s thumbs rubbed along the curve of his back, eliciting a small shiver from him. “I will be waiting eagerly,” he said. “But can’t I have a peek now?” He would have hit someone if they called his expression “coy,” but that’s exactly what it was at the moment.

Gilbert chuckled softly and leaned closer. “You’re worse than a child sometimes,” he said, but kissed him anyway. It was nothing more than a simple press of the lips, incredibly gentle in contrast to the kisses from before. Fritz made an appreciative noise and dipped his fingers lower, stroking over Gilbert’s hips to encourage him. Despite the peace of their surroundings and the wonderful state of bliss he was currently in, a small part of his mind sarcastically noted that this would usually be the time when they were interrupted.

The world did not disappoint him. Not two seconds after he thought that he heard a click and one of the side doors that the servants used to do their work swung open. Thankfully the door swung towards them so whoever was behind it couldn’t see them. “For God’s sake, Lotti, stop dropping it!” A woman’s voice yelled as there was a thump and a small cloud of dust rose from behind the door. “I wouldn’t trust you to serve the guests their tea, that’s for certain.”

They both leaped apart as if shocked. Immediately Fritz turned and ran, heading for one of the paths that went to the gardens. But he had forgotten all about the scarf, and it jerked him into a choking halt as if he had been a dog tugging on its leash. The force of it also yanked Gilbert off balance and sent him tumbling into his king and they both ended up tripping over each other and falling into one of the many shrubs that lined the path.

“Hey, did you hear that?”

He tried to get to his feet, but branches caught in his clothes and he found himself stuck. He fought against the confines of the plants and only managed to get his arms free. A hand suddenly grasped his collar and dragged him out of the bushes right as a head poked itself around the door. “Oi! Who’s out there?!” a woman yelled as they fell behind the bushes.

Fritz thumped his head against the grass. “Oh great good gods, just kill me now,” he muttered hopelessly, his face flushing in embarrassment.

“Get up,” Prussia said, smothering a chuckle. “They haven’t seen us yet.” He managed to pull Fritz to his feet, almost picking him up as he did, and dragged him along by the wrist. They ducked around a corner, jumped over a stone bench, and slipped through a narrow gap in the hedges. It was one of the very same alcoves that Prussia had hidden in a few Christmases ago and threw snowballs at whomever had passed by, and now they both crouched in it, hidden by the cleverly cut branches and leaves around the entrance. “Here we go,” the albino said, pressing his king closer to him. Because of the winter months the hedges had not been trimmed very recently, and their overgrowth made the space unusually tight and cramped.

Frederick shook his head and sighed. “Wilhelmine’s going to kill us,” he murmured. They had already been gone for an embarrassingly long time.

“Well we can’t go anywhere with that crazy maid yelling like that.” Prussia replied, jerking his thumb in the direction of the voice that was now calling them out as vandals.

“She’s a maid,” Fritz said with a roll of his eyes. “That’s hardly a valid excuse.”

“Still sticking to it,” Gilbert said. He frowned as Fritz tried to get up and quickly wrapped his legs around him and jerked him back down. The force of it made him lose his balance and hit the ground on his back, but he didn’t care. “Nope, you’re staying right here.”

Even in the dim light he could tell that Fritz was blushing. “Not here!” he said, gripping his shirt warningly.

Gilbert’s look was full of innocence. “What? We’re just laying here.” He wriggled his body under Fritz’s, as if trying to get comfortable, and barely stifled a laugh as Fritz’s breath hitched. “But if you want sex we can probably manage pretty well in here. Kind of cramped though, so no crazy positions—“

A hand slapped over his mouth. “Hush!” Fritz whispered, listening to the footsteps drawing closer to their hiding place. He barely held in a gasp when Gilbert opened his mouth and started to suck on his fingers. He went to jerk his hand away but Gilbert caught his wrist in a firm grip. Red eyes gazed at him challengingly. If you move then I’ll yell, the soldier mouthed at him.

Goosebumps prickled his neck. You wouldn’t dare, Fritz mouthed back. Being caught in a position like this could end only in a complete disaster, and Gilbert knew that.

Nonetheless Prussia smirked at him, a “try me” smirk. He guided Fritz’s hand back to his mouth and carefully slid it back in, licking up and down each finger as they entered. He kept his eyes on Frederick the entire time, holding his gaze with his own. Frederick bit his lip to stop himself from making any noise, but a shiver passed through his entire body. He felt Gilbert pressing a finger against his lips in a shushing gesture, and a surge of anger swept over him at Gilbert’s game. Without really thinking he bit his finger, delighting in the gasp that caught in Gilbert’s throat. His victory barely lasted a second, because Gilbert bit him back, dragging his teeth down his skin and swirling his tongue around each digit softly. Dear lord if only Gilbert would do that to something else of his...

Fritz buried his face into Gilbert’s clothes—admitting defeat—so that if he accidently made any noise then it would be muffled. “I hate you Gilbert,” he whispered (no, it was not a whimper.) “I hate you, I hate you.” He repeated the phrase over and over, feeling his face heat and his heart race. God this wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair at all.

Gilbert’s chest heaved in a silent laugh. He slid Frederick’s fingers out of his mouth with an appealing wet noise that shot straight down Fritz’s spine. “No you don’t,” he replied in a voice that was barely above a whisper. He paused as the footsteps of the maid swished right by their hiding place without a single pause. When they were gone he smiled slyly. “Well, that was fun,” he said calmly.

He rolled his eyes and wiped his hand against Gilbert’s clothes. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered and sat up. Thankfully Gilbert didn’t seem intent on holding him there anymore.

“And you’re as red as a beet,” Prussia replied, skimming a finger down his cheek. “Liked it?”

Of course he did. His heart was still pounding like mad and it was suddenly unbearably hot and his clothes were quite uncomfortable and tight. He sighed and rubbed his temple right over the spot where a headache was started to form. He needed a drink. “I’m going back,” he announced, prying Gilbert’s legs off of him.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Gilbert said, sitting up with him. He brushed at his clothes. “Besides, I’ve got grass stains on my clothes. What will Wilhelmine think when she sees them?”

“And I have leaves in my hair,” Fritz replied, plucking them out as he spoke. “I know exactly what she will think.”

Prussia barked out a laugh. “Gods, and for once her assumptions will be wrong,” he said, imagining the princess’s face when they would meet her and no doubt the deep blush that would color her face when she would see them.

“Not completely,” Fritz said, still shivering from the ministrations he had received. Merciful heaven that mouth of Gilbert’s was practically a sin. He quickly stepped out of their hiding place to distract his thoughts, taking the scarf that was still around his neck and tugging it, prompting Gilbert to his feet as well. The coast was clear, and they stepped back onto the path that ran around the palace, the same one they had been walking and dancing on before they had been interrupted. Gilbert tried his best to put his clothes into a somewhat neat manner, wincing as his hands passed over the stains, while Fritz tried to rid his hair of the foliage while keeping his curls intact. Thankfully no one had come to look for them during their prolonged absence, and the only person they passed on their way back was Winterfeldt. The general was sitting on a bench smoking his pipe, and he looked up when they drew near. At first the man looked rather bewildered, his eyes landing on the scarf shared between them, and then he noticed the rest of their appearance.

Fritz had to force down a laugh when he saw his friend’s face redden, but he was mercifully spared having to think of an explanation as Winterfeldt just bit down on his pipe and remained tactfully silent. However, his raised eyebrows and the questioning look that was thrown his way told him that he would definitely have to be explaining a few things later.