while we’re at it, what would a date with gil go like?
[Hello, lovely! I’m sure this is a follow-up to a Belgium date ask from aeons ago, and I attempted to style them similarly, but Prussia always has had a mind of his own. I hope you enjoy!]
“You ever think about getting married?”
“You’re not seriously proposing to me in a McDonald’s, are you?”
Your exasperation made him snicker, quickly squeezing your hand in reassurance.
“No, no. Just curious is all.”
You were quiet for a few moments, both content to sit idly in the booth, watching the evening shift begin tidying up for the night. It was near closing time, but he was in no rush to leave. Judging by your feet still propped on the seat beside you and the weight of your head against his shoulder, neither were you.
“I’ve thought about it,” you murmured, the words reaching him as scarcely a breath, turning into an exhausted sigh as you continued. “We’d have to figure out where we’d live, a venue, guests, a date, all that other good stuff.”
He pressed a small kiss to your crown, sharing in the fatigue of all the decisions ahead. “That’s why I’m only wondering right now. We have plenty of time to decide.”
You snuggled slightly nearer to him, taking another sip of your water, peaceful quiet once more descending around the pair of you.
As far as dates go, this was far from the greatest. Both of you were recuperating after excruciatingly long weeks at work, appearance dishevelled as you lounged in the booth. Neither of you had dressed up for the occasion, and both of you were starting to regret your respective choices in meal. But you were together, and as far as he was concerned, that was the important thing.
He let his eyes drift shut, listening to the distant clattering from the kitchen, the soft Christmas music, the steady murmurs of other exhausted patrons, a few stray clacks of computer keys. And above it all, your humming, nearly silent and off-beat from the medleys crackling through the ancient sound system.
The new year had already arrived, and he was bemused with how much contentment you were displaying at the lingering remnants of the holiday season. The old year had been exhausting, seemingly endless, held together only in brief moments of happiness, a smattering of festivals, a few free concerts here-and-there.
He ran his thumb over your sleeve, lost in thought.
How you had possibly stuck with him throughout all that chaos-
It was a miracle how strong of a team you had become, working together to care for your pets, your loved ones, weaving your conflicting schedules together time-and-time again to ensure that you always had one another, never missing a date. While some of those Fridays may have been spent on Facetime from different continents, it never mattered.
You had each other, and so long as he knew that, he was happy.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed; the idle conversations had started to fade away, the scent of disinfectant had grown stronger as the cleaners neared the table, and Mariah Carrey had played at least five times now.
“Gil-” His name passed your lips in an exhausted whine, woven into a squeaking yawn that immediately brought a smile to his face.
“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”
He needn’t open his eyes to know exactly which look you were giving him, the huff hitting his neck indicative of your temporary annoyance. His smile only grew fonder as your head fell once more against him.
“I agree. But I’m kind of comfy.”
“Gil.” Another whine escaped you, coated with more exasperation and sincerity, your tone just insistent enough to make him slowly start to stretch, eyes opening as you fully pulled away from him. A quick glance to his right wrist revealed the time, eyes widening in surprise.
He turned to you, worried, guilt-ridden by his brief lapse of unconsciousness.
You smirked, eyes shining in delighted mirth. “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”
He felt himself pout as you repeated his earlier compliment, relenting when you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
You tidied up the seating area as much as you could as he pulled on his own coat, discarding the trash and refilling your drinks before joining him at the doors, fingers brushing as you passed him his soda, sharing a soft smile before stepping into the world beyond.
Passing headlights framed your figure, highlighted the steam of your breath, sent a stutter to his pulse. You were perfectly oblivious to the sudden rush of adoration flickering though his veins, remained ignorant of his awe as you half-flopped against him, weaving your free fingers with his in his jacket pocket.
He sighed in contentment, leaning his head against your own, closing his eyes in this lingering bliss.
Perhaps, somehow, after all this time of learning each other’s unspoken cues, you did pick up some of his thoughts. Your own frame leaned more into him, a hum reaching him just below the heady din of the city.
“Ich liebe dich auch, Herzmensch.”
More than words could ever say.
