A Hetalia fanfiction
“Let’s play a game.”
“No.” You looked down at your exam preparations and continued to study, writing in your notebook as you did.
“Come on! What’s wrong with playing games? I’m bored.”
“Can’t you see I’m studying for my exams, Gilbert?” You still refused to gaze at him, instead focusing on your impossibly complex textbooks and test prep workbooks. Why the hell did he have to come to you now, of all times, when you had to study? “C’mon—I’ll play a game with you tomorrow. Right now we should be studying. Where are your textbooks?”
“Left ‘em at home,” explained the German—or as Gil would say, “Prussian”—as he reclined against your apartment’s couch. “Let’s just play one game. One game. I swear, that’s all I want. You’re smart—you’ll pass the exams without even blinking. Now get up and play a game with me.”
“Why do you have to bug me for a game now? I’m busy. Go away. And I don’t know any games you’d want to play.”
“Because. I told you. I’m bored.” He swung so that his legs were hanging over the sofa’s back, his head on the seat and his arms spread out beside him as he gave an exasperated sigh. Then he turn over onto his front and stared at you from the other side of the room. “Play a game with me!”
“Please? Pretty please? What’s that you English-speaking girls say… um… Pretty please with a strawberry on top?”
“… No…” You blinked. What’s this got to do with strawberries? The truth was, you weren’t paying attention to what he was saying as you glared down at your math problems.
“Okay, not a strawberry. Whipped cream?” Gilbert tried guessing at something else.
“… No. No, no, no.” At this point you couldn’t even focus on Calculus. Not with this bloody Prussian bugging you.
“Then no sweets, huh? How about some beer instead of strawberries?” He was trying to use those puppy eyes on you now…
“I don’t drink, Gil. Now shut up and let me study.” You didn’t care how big those sparkling ruby eyes got. You needed to study for this exam.
“Just one game.”
“No, Gilbert. How many times have I said it. No. Let me study and I’ll play with you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s too far away! I want to play a game now, __________!”
You couldn’t stand it anymore. You slammed down your pen in frustration, and it broke and sent ink splattering across your papers and the math textbook.
Well, so much for that Calculus test.
“Fine! You want to play a game? Any game?” You turned to him and frowned, trying in your mind to formulate in your mind some sort of plan.
“Yeah, sure! So you finally decided to have some fun, huh? So you do know how to have fun!” Gilbert got up and started actually using the couch for the purpose it was made for—sitting on.
“… Excuse me? You’re saying I don’t know how to have fun?”
“Yeah, I mean you always had problems with partying and everything, so I just figured you weren’t all that cool.” His eyes were glinting with mischievousness. “So. Shoot anything you got at me, I’m good.”
“Sure. Let’s play my favourite game then. What’s the capital of Alaska?”
“Umm… what?” Gilbert blinked at you in surprise, and you felt that smirk tugging at your lips. No way he was going to be able to deal with this. You knew your Prussian friend pretty well, and he definitely did not like his academics.
“Yeah. That’s my game. You have to answer as many academic questions as you can. And if you don’t want to play, get out of my damn apartment. If you get all my questions right, you can stay and pester me. So...” You folded your arms and smiled slightly. “What’s it going to be? Deal with the game or get out?”
“Heheh.” Wait. What was this? He was laughing at you? “Sure. Why not. Give me what you’ve got. But you’re not going to fool me that easy.” Gilbert wagged a finger at you, a grin on that pale face of his.
“What? Fool you? Gil, what are you talking about?”
“Don’t think you can bat those pretty eyes at me and get away with that. You’re gonna have to write your answer down.”
“Because. You probably don’t even know the answers. You’re tryin’ to get all the solutions from me, huh? Trying to cheat on your homework by asking me all the questions, huh? Geez, __________, I thought you were smart enough to do your own work!”
“Shut up.” Your face was burning, and you grabbed a notepad and a pen, scribbling down the answer to your first question. His eyes were on you, and you could feel them. You glanced up when you finished. “Well? What’s the capital of Alaska?”
“… Gimme a second here…” He put a finger to his lips and ran a hand through his silver locks with his other hand. “… I got this… Juneau.”
How. The Hell. Did he know that.
“Okay…” It didn’t matter. You’d beat him in the end anyways, when he realized that he couldn’t keep up with all the information. “Then…” You wrote down the answer to your next question in scrawling blue ink. “Now… what year was World War II ended?”
“Oh, seriously. Picking on my weak points. You really do know how to bully a guy, __________. It’s… Nineteen… 1945.”
Boy. This was going to take a long, long time.
Damn it. “I give up,” you exclaimed as you fell back into the leather swivel chair, tossing besides the pen and notebook. “I don’t even want to study anymore.” Then you looked at Gilbert. “Hey. You’re pretty good at these academics. You got them all right—geography, history, math, science. What’s up with your exam scores, though?”
“Haha. Maybe I’m just smart, and you know it.” He winked at you. “I’m too awesome to get good test scores.”
“Then how come you got all those right if you can’t even score a decent grade on your tests?!”
“You wanna know?” He played with a loose button on his shirt.
“Hell to the yes, I do!” You shouted at him.
“Take it easy, girl,” said Gilbert, waving his hand at you as if it were nothing. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”
“Well, what is it?! How’d you do that?”
“Well, shoot. I just read your pen.”
Read… your pen? “You mean…” You made a looping motion in the air with one finger. “You followed the strokes?”
“Yeah, darn simple enough for the awesome me.” He started to laugh, but you just fumed and sat back down, taking up the pen again.
“Oh, so it’s funny?” You furiously scribbled a couple of words on a clean sheet of binder paper. “Read that, you imbecile.”
“Huh.” He propped his head up on his fist and gazed at the pad intently. “I got the second word… it’s you…”
You tossed the pad aside and left the room, knowing that he’d get up to read it a second later.
In your bedroom, you waited. A few moments later, through the door came a shout of, “That’s not very nice, __________!” A smirk curled your lips as you fell back onto your bed, sighing in contentment.
It was just another day of dealing with your boyfriend, Gilbert Beilschmidt.