Just Another Batch
Title: Just Another Batch
Author: wenchman
Series: Hetalia World Series
Characters: Prussia, Nyotalia Canada, Germany, Northern Italy
Pairings: Pru/Nyo!Can, Gerita
Rating: G
Summary: Commission. Prompt was Prussia/Nyo!Canada fluff that focuses on their relationship. 3000 words.
Word count: 3088
--
Sometimes, all it took was a plate of pancakes. To Gilbert, that resembled the ultimate hospitality and sense of affection one person could have for another. Marguerite did not really know him, but was more than happy to make it for someone who was interested. Like him, she just needed someone who would pay attention to her, appreciate her, and love everything she offered and did, even if it was just a plate of pancakes. All she needed at that that moment was a thank you, she she’d give him a warm smile when he said it. Her face would turn a tinge of pink, and she’d peer at him over her glasses as she shifted her right foot in sheepishness, her weight falling with the large kinks in her long hair. She’d stand there, with her poor posture and divinely chubby body and have the most flustered, honest, adorable grin.
It made Gilbert weak. In fact, he wanted so much to wallow in that image, that he complimented her for her cooking, and asked her for more. She responded with the same sheepishness, eventually becoming so overwhelmed at such a well reception. Gilbert would eat absolutely horridly, smacking his gums, moaning in delight, talking with food in his mouth and scraping his fork against his plate. Even sill, she happily made him another batch of pancakes, absolutely delighted that something she could do gave someone such a great amount of such a simple and delightful pleasure.
Had the day not flopped its bright belly to the night, this certainly would’ve continued until Marguerite had no batter left to satisfy her guest.
Even if it had, Gilbert would have made sure to come back for more when she had it. Perhaps not even for the food, like he claimed he was, but to see that lovely girl Marguerite, who he was sure he couldn’t attract. So right now, he just used those pancakes as the mediator between him and her. Lonely, useless, weakened him connected to this beautiful, perfect girl. She had seen him for a day, but she had laughed at his jokes, dealt with his quirks, tended to a large need of pancakes and enjoyed the little bird he kept with him. She seemed not to tolerate him like his Brother and his Brother’s fiancée did, but instead legitimately enjoyed his company. So if pancakes were the reason he’d go to see her, that was a good enough excuse for him, even if Roderich called him a pug and Elizaveta teased him for gaining some weight.
None of that really mattered to him-in fact, it was really quite insignificant compared to what he was gaining with Marguerite (besides weight). More than understanding him, she made him feel like he wasn’t alone. When he occasionally wasn’t locked in his room blogging about daily life, he would attempt to talk to his Brother. But his Brother dismissed him as childish, as if he couldn’t take care of himself. Almost as if he forgot that he destroyed Gilbert’s empire, and almost Gilbert himself. The only reason he lived there was because it was out of a sort of obligation from his Brother, a sort of apology for screwing his life over. And at the very least, if Ludwig was in no mood to put up with him, Gilbert could try to attempt a conversation with Feliciano. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, unless you got him talking about religion. Gilbert couldn’t stay too involved with Feliciano’s antics before he got bored.
Marguerite cured Gilbert from this deadening monotony. She would genuinely entertain him, spend time with him, and listen to what he had to say. She would even discuss silly things with him. She got on such a rant about hockey, and revealed an inner feistiness that made Gilbert grasp at her even more. She interested him, and he interested her. She had no problem being around him, and he had no problem being around her. She placed a value on him, and the things he did. No matter how ridiculous it was, how uncharming it was, or how obnoxious it was, she treasured it. She looked forward to the next things he would say, the next thing he would do, or think. She looked forward to seeing him, even the moment he left, and always had a batch of pancakes ready for him when he came back.
She gave him a sense of love he never had since he first unified his Brother.
But that event didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t need his Brother, or Feliciano, or anyone else for that matter. He was perfectly happy devoting those countless hours to Marguerite. He would begin to stay weeks, occasionally for a few months. He dismissed Ludwig and Feliciano’s concerns, as he presumed them to be false. He knew they didn’t really like him, and it didn’t matter now. When he was there, he was just grabbing some things that wouldn’t be returned. He didn’t have to worry about them playing like they were interested-surely they were enjoying their time alone, just as much as he was enjoying his time with Marguerite. And on the days she was gone, working like most nations do, he would practice making pancakes, so perhaps she would be able to come home to them one day. He found himself getting up and doing things, he found himself smiling, he found himself finally feeling like he was getting somewhere in his life again.
He also found himself in a relationship.
Love crept up on him, like those dastardly spiders that go into Marguerite’s house in the wintertime. But this certainly wasn’t an unpleasant surprise. Gilbert never saw it possible, yet he was thankful when it did happen. He was shocked, surprised, but also flooded with joy. He never saw it imaginable as being the one to hold his hands as his lover confessed her love. He never considered that he would ever have the chance to accept such a thing. But without a second thought, without a shred of doubt, it happened. He went for what he wanted, and got it. He never saw it coming, as it was there. He had already moved most of his things into Marguerite’s cottage, spent his time there, and spent his time with her. It was everything he wanted, everything he asked for, and finally, he had it.
It showed, too. Gilbert was out and about, seeing things and doing things with Marguerite that people figured he would never do. Once again, he was exploring, adventuring, and doing something with himself. Finally he felt like he had a purpose. Like he had something he was fulfilling. Someone to live for. He would smile more often now, laugh more often, now. Even without Marguerite around, he could be happy because he had her. He got a job, hoping it would prove he could take care of her, too. Of course, that job didn’t last too long, but he made the efforts to try, unlike something he would do before. So while he was home, he cleaned, took care of the yard, chickens and moose, and cut wood for the fire. Simple things, but things he felt himself wanting to do, just for her. He wanted to make her happy in any way he could, even if it was the things that were simple. And just as she always had, she treasured those things he did, with her face tinted pink, her smile wide and her posture shy as it had always been.
And on the rare occasion Gilbert was assed to see his Brother and his Brother’s fiancée, they noticed a difference, too, to a point where Ludwig could barely find something to say. Gilbert bursted out into a haughty laughter when Ludwig questioned if Gilbert really was the Brother he knew. It seemed to Gilbert that he had won. Finally, his little Brother was seeing Gilbert how he should be-strong, useful, and generally happy, even if back then it was displayed in a manner of arrogance. Well, perhaps that hadn’t changed either, because Gilbert began to brag about how happy Marguerite had made him, how truly and perfectly amazing she is. Watching his Brother’s face in disbelief was a wonderful vengeance of all the demeaning that had been done to him for almost the past century. Gilbert proved that after all, even if he was a slob, an asshole, and generally unromantic, there was someone out there who loved him anyway, perhaps for all those traits that he was infamously detested for.
So with the boost of confidence, and a determination to surprise Marguerite as much as his Brother, Gilbert returned home with a desire to cook. Lop-sided, awkward, and not always all-the-way cooked, Gilbert crafted his first batch of pancakes. And when Marguerite opened the door and stepped inside after work, the familiar smell with a hint of burntedness filled her with jollity. She stepped into the kitchen, beaming, as Gilbert set that first batch of pancakes on the table with a tinge of pink in his cheeks, peering at her from across the table as he grinned with a deep sense of sheepishness.
❀❀❀❀
Marguerite couldn't remember how it started. She never did pay attention to those kinds of things-she just watched as the world went by, and took every day in stride. So when she found herself making batch after batch of pancakes for a strange young man, she wasn't particularly alarmed. If anything, it was heart-warming. No one was particularly interested in her, or anything she did, so the fact that some young man had been there since the afternoon, gorging himself on her cooking was something she would not take for granted. She was beyond flattered that anyone so much as enjoyed something she made. No, perhaps it wasn't flattery. This man seemed to be honest. She became overwhelmed with bliss to point where she could hardly speak, but instead feel her face redden as she continued to make more pancakes.
This made her happy. So happy, in fact, that she dreamt of it happening again. The young man left and gave her his name-Gilbert. It sounded familiar, and she remembered it was Ludwig's elder Brother. She had heard of him being a brat, a child, an egotistical slob, but she wasn't surprised to find out he wasn't anything like this at all. She always believed there was more to people than what others could say, and she found Gilbert adorable. She loved how delighted he looked when he took an alarmingly large bite and smacked his lips as he chewed the apparently delicious meal. How his eyes lit up when she brought another plate to him. She was glad that for once, all the dishes in her house were used up by someone else other than herself. This man had done something for her most people don’t-recognize some sort of ability. So if pancakes were doing to be the way she held him close, then so be it.
She was happy he would come back, even if it was for another batch of pancakes, and much to her satisfaction, he did. He made the call, saying he wanted to see her again and that she was a fabulous cook and person to be around. She told him to come back whenever he wanted, and as if she wasn't flushed in sheepishness already, he wanted to see her so soon that he came the next day. But today, she didn't have pancakes. So she made him a typical dish, poutine, and she was relieved and happy when he enjoyed that just as much. She was more than glad that even if she couldn't grasp him with pancakes, any food could be just as good to anchor him down. She just wanted to watch his cute face as he talked, his reddish-purple eyes bounce from her features to her food, and his cloudy-blonde hair shift wildly as he gesticulated in his usual boisterous excitement.
She was thrilled to be able to do this every week. She enjoyed his company so much, she wondered if she'd started to fall in love. She didn't think that anyone would ever have been with her long enough for her to even develop these feelings. Really the only other person she'd spent so much time with was her sister Amelia. Loud, exuberant, active, pretty and thin Amelia. Marguerite had no problem with her own soft flesh and squishy curves. It kept her warm, and kept her breasts just plump enough. But she never say Amelia anymore. Marguerite was always Amelia's strange and clumsy little sister, who was really quiet and didn't do much. Marguerite had noticed how chaotic, fast-paced, and overstuffed with things to do her sister was, so as someone who preferred to sit back and enjoy a slow day, she didn't get to see her sister much. Her Papas were also never around anymore, and surely they were busy with their own lives. So Marguerite obliged to leave them to their own business. They would see her when they remembered about her.
So to Marguerite, Gilbert wanting to see her so often was a precious treasure. She had occasionally worried that he would stop coming back, but she always shrugged it off as something that didn't matter. If he lost interest, that's just how life would be. Luckily, life was not behaving that way, and Gilbert started to visit more, and more, until days, and weeks, and sometimes a couple months would pass before he left for a short while. Things started accumulating in her house, and she happily made space for him. She's always thought maybe she had just a little bit too much space in her small cottage, so moving things around was no problem for her. He took it well when she suddenly mentioned that she wasn't moving her moose heads and beaver skins, as well. Actually, he rather loved it, and she spent the next few hours sharing different tales of her hunting adventures before they watched the hockey game for that night. As usual, she got quite involved, but it seemed to her that Gilbert didn't really mind. If he enjoyed a girl who would tussle a bear with her own hands, then he would enjoy a girl who could get in a bar fight over hockey (not that she ever would).
At first, she didn't care to watch Gilbert. She was too far into the game. But when she had looked back at him to get his opinion on his game for the fifth time, and he was swooning at her still, she suddenly wasn't unaware that she was the one who was garnering romantic affections. Or maybe he wasn't smitten, perhaps it was her energy when watching a simple game of hockey. She considered that perhaps her jumping up and down in a loose jersey next to a man probably wasn't the best idea, but she never thought these things over too much-she simply hadn't cared. But his eyes weren't even on her chest, they were on her face. He was looking up at her, into her large blue eyes and grinning with a sense of warmth she hadn't seen in him before. Perhaps it was because he was exhausted, as he did something unusual while she was gone-housework. She was able to forget that smitten look as soon as she saw it-all that mattered to her at this moment was that Vancouver’s team would win that night.
At least until Gilbert so casually slipped under the covers with her. He didn't fondle or watch her. Instead, he went right to sleep, briefly coming closer to her as his colder body found sleepy solace in her warm one. Each time his chest would brush gently against her back, her heart pounded, She was glad that he was so comfortable sharing a bed. He had never done such before, and surely if he thought of her as her a friend, he would've slept in the couch or the other side of the bed. But instead, he landed himself right next to her. She could smell him-a kind of sweet smell, a foreign scent mixed with the stale air of her own country. His breath was soft, even and calm. Although she wasn't able to sleep due to her rapid, relentless thoughts, she certainly wasn't uncomfortable.
That night she decided that perhaps it was alright to be in a relationship with this extraordinary man.
After that offer, which was of course accepted by Gilbert, she had noticed he became happier. Nothing else changed, like everyone had thought. He was just visibly starting to enjoy more than Marguerite. This made her happy as well. Gilbert paid attention to her, loved her, and appreciated everything she did. He noticed her quirks, her interests, and adjusted quickly to her daily lifestyle without a word of complaint. He was fulfilled by the ability of being able to make someone happy, so much that he committed himself to her. She enjoyed his efforts to actually go outside and live a bit more adventurous of a life, even if they failed. All that mattered to her was he made the effort. Even if there was a consistent, difficult persuasion in order to get Gilbert to visit his brother, he did do it, even if it was just to display the progress he had made. Finally, Marguerite’s life had an exuberance to it. This is not to say she didn't have anything to live for-no. Now, she had someone to share it with. Someone who not only loved her, but deeply cared for her like no other person had even thought to do. She finally had value to someone besides herself.
Gilbert never failed to surprise her. After a long day of work, she was somewhat dumbfounded by the smell of something cooking. It had a sort of burnt and grainy smell, with threads of sugary wafts in-between. At the catch of that scent, it hit her. She tossed her stuff to the ground, and quietly entered the kitchen. She came so overwhelmed with what she saw, she could only beam with that bubbly jollity so like her as she watched Gilbert set a plate of pancakes on the table. His face reddened, and all she wanted him to do in that moment was make more pancakes so she could tell him how great they were.
--
Author: wenchman
Series: Hetalia World Series
Characters: Prussia, Nyotalia Canada, Germany, Northern Italy
Pairings: Pru/Nyo!Can, Gerita
Rating: G
Summary: Commission. Prompt was Prussia/Nyo!Canada fluff that focuses on their relationship. 3000 words.
Word count: 3088
--
Sometimes, all it took was a plate of pancakes. To Gilbert, that resembled the ultimate hospitality and sense of affection one person could have for another. Marguerite did not really know him, but was more than happy to make it for someone who was interested. Like him, she just needed someone who would pay attention to her, appreciate her, and love everything she offered and did, even if it was just a plate of pancakes. All she needed at that that moment was a thank you, she she’d give him a warm smile when he said it. Her face would turn a tinge of pink, and she’d peer at him over her glasses as she shifted her right foot in sheepishness, her weight falling with the large kinks in her long hair. She’d stand there, with her poor posture and divinely chubby body and have the most flustered, honest, adorable grin.
It made Gilbert weak. In fact, he wanted so much to wallow in that image, that he complimented her for her cooking, and asked her for more. She responded with the same sheepishness, eventually becoming so overwhelmed at such a well reception. Gilbert would eat absolutely horridly, smacking his gums, moaning in delight, talking with food in his mouth and scraping his fork against his plate. Even sill, she happily made him another batch of pancakes, absolutely delighted that something she could do gave someone such a great amount of such a simple and delightful pleasure.
Had the day not flopped its bright belly to the night, this certainly would’ve continued until Marguerite had no batter left to satisfy her guest.
Even if it had, Gilbert would have made sure to come back for more when she had it. Perhaps not even for the food, like he claimed he was, but to see that lovely girl Marguerite, who he was sure he couldn’t attract. So right now, he just used those pancakes as the mediator between him and her. Lonely, useless, weakened him connected to this beautiful, perfect girl. She had seen him for a day, but she had laughed at his jokes, dealt with his quirks, tended to a large need of pancakes and enjoyed the little bird he kept with him. She seemed not to tolerate him like his Brother and his Brother’s fiancée did, but instead legitimately enjoyed his company. So if pancakes were the reason he’d go to see her, that was a good enough excuse for him, even if Roderich called him a pug and Elizaveta teased him for gaining some weight.
None of that really mattered to him-in fact, it was really quite insignificant compared to what he was gaining with Marguerite (besides weight). More than understanding him, she made him feel like he wasn’t alone. When he occasionally wasn’t locked in his room blogging about daily life, he would attempt to talk to his Brother. But his Brother dismissed him as childish, as if he couldn’t take care of himself. Almost as if he forgot that he destroyed Gilbert’s empire, and almost Gilbert himself. The only reason he lived there was because it was out of a sort of obligation from his Brother, a sort of apology for screwing his life over. And at the very least, if Ludwig was in no mood to put up with him, Gilbert could try to attempt a conversation with Feliciano. He wasn’t the brightest star in the sky, unless you got him talking about religion. Gilbert couldn’t stay too involved with Feliciano’s antics before he got bored.
Marguerite cured Gilbert from this deadening monotony. She would genuinely entertain him, spend time with him, and listen to what he had to say. She would even discuss silly things with him. She got on such a rant about hockey, and revealed an inner feistiness that made Gilbert grasp at her even more. She interested him, and he interested her. She had no problem being around him, and he had no problem being around her. She placed a value on him, and the things he did. No matter how ridiculous it was, how uncharming it was, or how obnoxious it was, she treasured it. She looked forward to the next things he would say, the next thing he would do, or think. She looked forward to seeing him, even the moment he left, and always had a batch of pancakes ready for him when he came back.
She gave him a sense of love he never had since he first unified his Brother.
But that event didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t need his Brother, or Feliciano, or anyone else for that matter. He was perfectly happy devoting those countless hours to Marguerite. He would begin to stay weeks, occasionally for a few months. He dismissed Ludwig and Feliciano’s concerns, as he presumed them to be false. He knew they didn’t really like him, and it didn’t matter now. When he was there, he was just grabbing some things that wouldn’t be returned. He didn’t have to worry about them playing like they were interested-surely they were enjoying their time alone, just as much as he was enjoying his time with Marguerite. And on the days she was gone, working like most nations do, he would practice making pancakes, so perhaps she would be able to come home to them one day. He found himself getting up and doing things, he found himself smiling, he found himself finally feeling like he was getting somewhere in his life again.
He also found himself in a relationship.
Love crept up on him, like those dastardly spiders that go into Marguerite’s house in the wintertime. But this certainly wasn’t an unpleasant surprise. Gilbert never saw it possible, yet he was thankful when it did happen. He was shocked, surprised, but also flooded with joy. He never saw it imaginable as being the one to hold his hands as his lover confessed her love. He never considered that he would ever have the chance to accept such a thing. But without a second thought, without a shred of doubt, it happened. He went for what he wanted, and got it. He never saw it coming, as it was there. He had already moved most of his things into Marguerite’s cottage, spent his time there, and spent his time with her. It was everything he wanted, everything he asked for, and finally, he had it.
It showed, too. Gilbert was out and about, seeing things and doing things with Marguerite that people figured he would never do. Once again, he was exploring, adventuring, and doing something with himself. Finally he felt like he had a purpose. Like he had something he was fulfilling. Someone to live for. He would smile more often now, laugh more often, now. Even without Marguerite around, he could be happy because he had her. He got a job, hoping it would prove he could take care of her, too. Of course, that job didn’t last too long, but he made the efforts to try, unlike something he would do before. So while he was home, he cleaned, took care of the yard, chickens and moose, and cut wood for the fire. Simple things, but things he felt himself wanting to do, just for her. He wanted to make her happy in any way he could, even if it was the things that were simple. And just as she always had, she treasured those things he did, with her face tinted pink, her smile wide and her posture shy as it had always been.
And on the rare occasion Gilbert was assed to see his Brother and his Brother’s fiancée, they noticed a difference, too, to a point where Ludwig could barely find something to say. Gilbert bursted out into a haughty laughter when Ludwig questioned if Gilbert really was the Brother he knew. It seemed to Gilbert that he had won. Finally, his little Brother was seeing Gilbert how he should be-strong, useful, and generally happy, even if back then it was displayed in a manner of arrogance. Well, perhaps that hadn’t changed either, because Gilbert began to brag about how happy Marguerite had made him, how truly and perfectly amazing she is. Watching his Brother’s face in disbelief was a wonderful vengeance of all the demeaning that had been done to him for almost the past century. Gilbert proved that after all, even if he was a slob, an asshole, and generally unromantic, there was someone out there who loved him anyway, perhaps for all those traits that he was infamously detested for.
So with the boost of confidence, and a determination to surprise Marguerite as much as his Brother, Gilbert returned home with a desire to cook. Lop-sided, awkward, and not always all-the-way cooked, Gilbert crafted his first batch of pancakes. And when Marguerite opened the door and stepped inside after work, the familiar smell with a hint of burntedness filled her with jollity. She stepped into the kitchen, beaming, as Gilbert set that first batch of pancakes on the table with a tinge of pink in his cheeks, peering at her from across the table as he grinned with a deep sense of sheepishness.
❀❀❀❀
Marguerite couldn't remember how it started. She never did pay attention to those kinds of things-she just watched as the world went by, and took every day in stride. So when she found herself making batch after batch of pancakes for a strange young man, she wasn't particularly alarmed. If anything, it was heart-warming. No one was particularly interested in her, or anything she did, so the fact that some young man had been there since the afternoon, gorging himself on her cooking was something she would not take for granted. She was beyond flattered that anyone so much as enjoyed something she made. No, perhaps it wasn't flattery. This man seemed to be honest. She became overwhelmed with bliss to point where she could hardly speak, but instead feel her face redden as she continued to make more pancakes.
This made her happy. So happy, in fact, that she dreamt of it happening again. The young man left and gave her his name-Gilbert. It sounded familiar, and she remembered it was Ludwig's elder Brother. She had heard of him being a brat, a child, an egotistical slob, but she wasn't surprised to find out he wasn't anything like this at all. She always believed there was more to people than what others could say, and she found Gilbert adorable. She loved how delighted he looked when he took an alarmingly large bite and smacked his lips as he chewed the apparently delicious meal. How his eyes lit up when she brought another plate to him. She was glad that for once, all the dishes in her house were used up by someone else other than herself. This man had done something for her most people don’t-recognize some sort of ability. So if pancakes were doing to be the way she held him close, then so be it.
She was happy he would come back, even if it was for another batch of pancakes, and much to her satisfaction, he did. He made the call, saying he wanted to see her again and that she was a fabulous cook and person to be around. She told him to come back whenever he wanted, and as if she wasn't flushed in sheepishness already, he wanted to see her so soon that he came the next day. But today, she didn't have pancakes. So she made him a typical dish, poutine, and she was relieved and happy when he enjoyed that just as much. She was more than glad that even if she couldn't grasp him with pancakes, any food could be just as good to anchor him down. She just wanted to watch his cute face as he talked, his reddish-purple eyes bounce from her features to her food, and his cloudy-blonde hair shift wildly as he gesticulated in his usual boisterous excitement.
She was thrilled to be able to do this every week. She enjoyed his company so much, she wondered if she'd started to fall in love. She didn't think that anyone would ever have been with her long enough for her to even develop these feelings. Really the only other person she'd spent so much time with was her sister Amelia. Loud, exuberant, active, pretty and thin Amelia. Marguerite had no problem with her own soft flesh and squishy curves. It kept her warm, and kept her breasts just plump enough. But she never say Amelia anymore. Marguerite was always Amelia's strange and clumsy little sister, who was really quiet and didn't do much. Marguerite had noticed how chaotic, fast-paced, and overstuffed with things to do her sister was, so as someone who preferred to sit back and enjoy a slow day, she didn't get to see her sister much. Her Papas were also never around anymore, and surely they were busy with their own lives. So Marguerite obliged to leave them to their own business. They would see her when they remembered about her.
So to Marguerite, Gilbert wanting to see her so often was a precious treasure. She had occasionally worried that he would stop coming back, but she always shrugged it off as something that didn't matter. If he lost interest, that's just how life would be. Luckily, life was not behaving that way, and Gilbert started to visit more, and more, until days, and weeks, and sometimes a couple months would pass before he left for a short while. Things started accumulating in her house, and she happily made space for him. She's always thought maybe she had just a little bit too much space in her small cottage, so moving things around was no problem for her. He took it well when she suddenly mentioned that she wasn't moving her moose heads and beaver skins, as well. Actually, he rather loved it, and she spent the next few hours sharing different tales of her hunting adventures before they watched the hockey game for that night. As usual, she got quite involved, but it seemed to her that Gilbert didn't really mind. If he enjoyed a girl who would tussle a bear with her own hands, then he would enjoy a girl who could get in a bar fight over hockey (not that she ever would).
At first, she didn't care to watch Gilbert. She was too far into the game. But when she had looked back at him to get his opinion on his game for the fifth time, and he was swooning at her still, she suddenly wasn't unaware that she was the one who was garnering romantic affections. Or maybe he wasn't smitten, perhaps it was her energy when watching a simple game of hockey. She considered that perhaps her jumping up and down in a loose jersey next to a man probably wasn't the best idea, but she never thought these things over too much-she simply hadn't cared. But his eyes weren't even on her chest, they were on her face. He was looking up at her, into her large blue eyes and grinning with a sense of warmth she hadn't seen in him before. Perhaps it was because he was exhausted, as he did something unusual while she was gone-housework. She was able to forget that smitten look as soon as she saw it-all that mattered to her at this moment was that Vancouver’s team would win that night.
At least until Gilbert so casually slipped under the covers with her. He didn't fondle or watch her. Instead, he went right to sleep, briefly coming closer to her as his colder body found sleepy solace in her warm one. Each time his chest would brush gently against her back, her heart pounded, She was glad that he was so comfortable sharing a bed. He had never done such before, and surely if he thought of her as her a friend, he would've slept in the couch or the other side of the bed. But instead, he landed himself right next to her. She could smell him-a kind of sweet smell, a foreign scent mixed with the stale air of her own country. His breath was soft, even and calm. Although she wasn't able to sleep due to her rapid, relentless thoughts, she certainly wasn't uncomfortable.
That night she decided that perhaps it was alright to be in a relationship with this extraordinary man.
After that offer, which was of course accepted by Gilbert, she had noticed he became happier. Nothing else changed, like everyone had thought. He was just visibly starting to enjoy more than Marguerite. This made her happy as well. Gilbert paid attention to her, loved her, and appreciated everything she did. He noticed her quirks, her interests, and adjusted quickly to her daily lifestyle without a word of complaint. He was fulfilled by the ability of being able to make someone happy, so much that he committed himself to her. She enjoyed his efforts to actually go outside and live a bit more adventurous of a life, even if they failed. All that mattered to her was he made the effort. Even if there was a consistent, difficult persuasion in order to get Gilbert to visit his brother, he did do it, even if it was just to display the progress he had made. Finally, Marguerite’s life had an exuberance to it. This is not to say she didn't have anything to live for-no. Now, she had someone to share it with. Someone who not only loved her, but deeply cared for her like no other person had even thought to do. She finally had value to someone besides herself.
Gilbert never failed to surprise her. After a long day of work, she was somewhat dumbfounded by the smell of something cooking. It had a sort of burnt and grainy smell, with threads of sugary wafts in-between. At the catch of that scent, it hit her. She tossed her stuff to the ground, and quietly entered the kitchen. She came so overwhelmed with what she saw, she could only beam with that bubbly jollity so like her as she watched Gilbert set a plate of pancakes on the table. His face reddened, and all she wanted him to do in that moment was make more pancakes so she could tell him how great they were.
--