lovino-varg-ass

"Roderich!" "Go away, Gilbert!" "But it's cold out heeere," the Prussian whined. Roderich had locked him out for coming home drunk and disorderly at 3 o'clock in the morning. Gilbert sighed when there was no response from the Austrian, who was probably sipping some sort of hot drink before getting into bed where it was cosy and warm. How Gilbert longed to be there. He stumbled around the outside of the house in search of an open window, but Roderich had shut and locked each one. "I'll never get to sleep at this rate," Roderich rubbed his aching head, "He's going to destroy my lawn. For goodness sake, why is it always me? I'm sure he coul

I have my brother all to myself tonight. He hasn't been captured by that stupid Denmark for a night out, for once. My brother is known to many as Norway; he lets very little people call him anything else, but to me, he is Sigurd. To him, I am Bjorn, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't remember for how long I have loved him. It was long before I knew we were brothers. I feel at home with him. Even now, when he takes my hand and speaks to me soothingly, I know that my heart belongs to him. "You're too important to me," he once said, "Now that we are brothers, I want you to live with me. To make up for lost time." I shared a bed wit