AN:

Summary: 2p!Germany x 2p!Prussia. Using original names because, 1) I'm too lazy to search for actual canon names/fanmade names and 2) I don't want to make up my own names.

Gilbert is subservient to his younger brother, Ludwig. Always has been, and most always will be, as the Prussian suffers from chronic shyness and is frightened of his taller, beefier, more robust sibling. Prussia has a robotic prosthetic leg, which hinders his speed, built by Ludwig after The Great War (World War One). A simple story of their relationship and how Gilbert gains his prosthetic arm.

Set a little after WW1 but before WW2 ( 1920's )

The sun peeped cautiously into the small, dark room through the curtains and glinted off of the floor mirror occupying the corner. The arc of light bounced about the room before landing on the pile of blankets on the bed. The mound shifted, warmed perhaps by the weak light offered, and a smallish head poked out, shielding its eyes from the suns ray.

The blankets were sleepily shifted to the side, revealing a young lean man clothed in cotton pyjamas. This man slipped quietly out of bed, not a peep, a yawn, or any stretching for that matter, and opened the curtains fully, allowing winters sun to fully illuminate his room. Now he stretched and completed any after waking routine that he had, twisting and pulling any kinks from his neck.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his alarm clock, reading five thirty four on the clocks hands, and grimaced. He always woke up around five thirty, even when he was allowed to sleep in. A habit, he supposed, long ingrained from looking after his brother. Banishing any thought of his brother and sleep from his mind, he wriggled his toes.

All five of them. The other five, however, simply shifted up and down slowly, being as they were metal and prosthetic. He had lost half his leg in The Great War, and his brother, in a rare show of kindness, built it for him. It hindered his speed greatly, being stiff, but the 7 years that he had worked with it had paid off with a few tricks.

Sliding to his dresser on the heels of his feet, the man pulled warm socks from the drawer and pulled them up laboriously, thus hiding his metal leg, as well as muffling any clanking that it would make as he walked about the house. He slid out of his bedroom, not much more then a closet really, and completed his morning with a quick brush of his teeth, a washroom break, and a combing of his platinum blonde hair. Finished with his morning absolution's, he went downstairs and entered the kitchen.

"Hallo, Bruder." A familiar voice said from the gloom of the kitchenette table. The man froze, turning the light on to illuminate the figure sitting on the chair.

"H-Hallo, Ludwig..." He responded softly, shocked to see his little brother up so early. Maybe he was up all night. Or he was waiting for him. His racing mind was cut short when he was answered:

"Gilbert," the man's purple eyes seemed to glow with glee as he considered his next words, or was that his imagination? "How are you?"

He stared. He was never asked how he was. Where did this come from then? This must be a trick. Had to be a trick. Gilbert's blue eyes darted about the room, looking for any knives that were within his brothers reach. He saw no glint of shiny metal, and felt reassured.

"I am..I am good, yes...very good." He paused, "A-and you are?"

"Mmm, concerned, mein brother, very concerned." Ludwig's fingers came together in a peak and he gestured with his head towards the only available seating, "Sit down, please."

Cautiously, he sat down, wondering what this was about. His brother shouldn't even be awake at this hour! He should be sleeping and then Gilbert could enjoy 3 hours of him-time and relax before the day began. His brother smirked.

"I'm sure you're asking yourself, what is this about? Your face has always been so easy to read. I was just curious, because, yesterday night, I planned on making myself some coffee, just so I could do some light reading into the night." This had to be going somewhere, Gilbert thought despairingly, "And when I looked into the mug cabinet, lo and behold, my favourite mug wasn't there."

The man seized up, thinking, favourite mug? What favourite mug? Ludwig used whatever mug was placed in front of him, as long as it had enough liquid to keep him satisfied.

"Yes, Gil, my favourite mug, the white one, with the little, red hand painted hands on it. Italy gave it to me last Christmas. Surely, you who makes me my coffee every morning knows where it went?" The mans voice was sickly sweet, and Gilbert broke out in cold sweat.

"I-I-I'm s-sure it's s-still in the cub-cupboard w-where it w-was left..." He stuttered, shakily making his way to said cupboard and looking inside. He stood on his tiptoes to peer into the back, and saw a glimmer of white and red porcelain, hidden behind towers of other mugs.

"S-see...?" One did not contradict Ludwig lightly, "Your m- mug is right in t-the back..."

"Is it?" He smirked devilishly, and Gilbert thought dismally, he knew, he knew all along it was there. There was an ulterior motive behind this accusation. "Could you kindly fetch it for me, then, brother dearest? Since you are already up and you normally have it ready~?"

Shit, Gilbert nearly cried. He was already too short to just look into the cupboard, he couldn't get the mug without aid from a stool, or a chair. But he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Ludwig had his feet upon the only chair he could use for a lift. He'd just have to struggle for it. Carefully, ever so carefully, the man started to lift mugs down to clear space. He wasn't about to drop ALL the mugs upon the floor, then that would surely result in punishment. One tower of mugs, two towers of mugs, three towers of mugs...he heard Ludwig cough impatiently behind him and hastened his clearing.

...Five, Six...there! The mug sat right in the back, clean and ready to be used once again. Balancing his weight on his real foot, Gilbert attempted to get the lift he needed to hook the mug out of the cupboard. His fingers clawed uselessly at it's shiny surface, offering no handholds for him to use. It was just too far out of his reach. The man slumped back down, and and then repeated, stretching his arm out, his fingers just barely brushing it, nearly there, nearly there...!

"Let me help you with that."

Suddenly, Gilbert was lifted from his hips and had the lip of the counter pressed against his thighs. He squeaked in bewilderment and stared at his brother, who merely smiled at him, his purple eyes dark with...something. Gilbert was frightened by the look he was being given and just focused upon his task. Just retrieve the mug, make the coffee and then he could disappear for an hour. The man leaned forwards to get the stupid mug and felt his brothers hips pressed tight against his buttocks. It wasn't hard for the blonde haired man to feel Ludwig's stiff erection through the thin cotton of his pyjamas.

Lust. That was what that emotion must have been. Gilbert was not prepared for...such activities. The roundabout way that Ludwig had forced this upon him was new to him, and he had no defences. No lies of, "I'm tired" or "It won't be fun tonight because I'm too preoccupied".

"W-what are you d-doing, bruder..?" He asked, just to have something to say to break the awkward silence between them.

"What does it look like? I'm going to bend you over and fuck you raw. Have you been counting the days that have gone by since I've gotten a lay from you?" Gilbert shook his head quickly, "I have, and it's been a few weeks. That's a little long for me, dearest brother, so, I would just shut your mouth and deal with it."

"Will you be rough?" The words popped out of nowhere, a small, childish whine without the hint of his usual stutter. Ludwig looked startled at the innocence in his brothers tone, the shimmer of tears and the way Gilbert held himself to ward away any attacks upon his flesh. He was almost tempted to say no.

Almost.