His long fingers traced over the keys as he prepared to play. They curved into delicate spiders, splayed over the white and black. He took a breath, trembling with the excitement that music that would soon echo through his home,

The first note is alone and yet seems to set the tone as his hands form chords. One plays the melody, moving through positions while the other accompanied it, solid chords complimenting the flighty melody.

His whole body moves with the music, sinking and rising as it becomes more complicated. His fingers ghost over keys, not missing a single note, until-


The fingers fumbled and the melody was lost to a mess of off-key notes. Austria quickly removed his hands from the instrument, not wanting to pollute the air any further.

He froze, waiting for the noise but it didn't come. Minutes past in ear-splitting silence until, satisfied that he is not going to be interrupted he starts playing again.

Soon the music is flowing again and his emotions have calmed. A smile tugged at his lips and just as the melody is about to reach it's peak-


Even the though the whisper was nothing more than a breath, Roderich still heard it. His hands slammed down on the piano, the notes jumbling together in a jumble of sharps and flats.

But just as fast as the whisper had come, it was one and ugly quiet reigned once more.

This time he didn't hesitate. His fingers hammered the harmonies, eyes shut and teeth clenched as he forced his shuddering fingers to play precisely.

Finally the end was within reach, the final chords were already within reach and then-


There it was AGAIN. That incessant moaning and groaning that kept interrupting him. Was he to live in this world where he couldn't even play his piano in peace and quiet? His hands clenched into fists on the keys before he swept to his feet, ears alert for the moaning again.

Austria crept through his home, waiting for the next tell-tale sound that would lead him to his prey.

"Ahhahh! Germany!" He recognized that voice but that still didn't explain what Italy was doing in his home or why is way crying out Germany's name.

His quest led him to a closet, from which issued regularly moans and groans. What could they possibly be doing in there that would require making so much noise? He cleared his throat, hoping they would hear them over whatever they were doing.

There was a silence, quickly broken by Italy's voice asking, "Did you hear that?"

The only response was a grunt and a 'thump' as though something heavy had hit the wall.

Austria could only reach one conclusion. Italy and Germany were in there for the sole purpose of messing up his carefully placed linens. What other possible business could they have inside his closet?

Straightening his back, he reached out and threw the closet door open. "I cannot concentrate on my piano with you two…" His words died and the colour drained from his face as he realized just what was going on in the small closet.

Germany was on top of a shirtless Italy, pinning him to the wall while the brunette's legs were wrapped around Ludwig, fingers entangled in his blond hair.

As Austria continued to watch, jaw slowly unhinging, Ludwig moved his mouth to Italy's neck, nuzzling there. Feliciano's head tilted back, letting Germany explore even more of his shoulder. He hummed contentedly, slipping his hands down Ludwig's back.

Roderich made a noise in the back of his throat as Germany's hands wandered southward, squeezing Feliciano's thighs. Italy's eyes widened at he noticed the speechless Austria standing in the doorway. He wiggled against Germany who pulled back, staring at Italy. "Too fast?" He asked in a concerned tone.

"A-austria!" Feliciano stuttered, quickly pulling his hands out of Germany's shirt and covering his bare chest.

The blond growled. "You never say my name. Always Austria or France…"

Italy shook his head violently. "Behind you!"

Germany turned to stare at the man frozen in the doorway. "Oh…" His ears glowed red as he slowly picked himself off of Italy.

The brunette squeaked, scrabbling to grab his discarded shirt and buttoning it up. Once he was decent (as decent as his sweaty face and panting could be) Feliciano took his place beside Germany, tugging at his sleeve.

"Roderich… I can explain." Germany smoothed back his tousled hair.

The brunette shook his head and folded his arms, a grin tugging at his lips. "No need to explain. I've always had my suspicions."


"You haven't exactly been, how should I say, subtle about it." Germany's blushed deepened as Austria continued, "I'm willing to turn a blind eye for the most part. However, when it's interrupting my practice time, then we have a problem. I might just have to call that idiot American up and let him know just what exactly Germany is up to in his free time."

It was at that time that all the carefully folded linens decided to fall off their shelves and fall all around the Italian and German like a great swarm of white bats.


Austria was playing his piano again. The music swelling and ebbing, flowing through his fingers and echoing around the room. He felt at peace, the ugly silence kept at bay buy the beautiful melodies. He could already hear the ending notes fading into nothing when-

"Ah! Germany!"

But Roderich did not lose his temper. In fact he was grinning as he slowly made his way towards the closet from which the noise had issued. He knocked sharply, delighting in the small cry of fright Italy gave. "Are you all done in there?" He plucked a key out of his pocket, fit it into the lock and opened the door.

Ludwig and Feliciano were surrounded by neatly piled sheets though some still were hung haphazardly around the room. Italy squeaked and hide under the white sheet he and Germany were currently folding. "No, we're not." Ludwig says, blue eyes glaring at Austria. The blond let the cloth fall from his hand and began advancing on Roderich, "I've been in here for a day now. Let me out before I..." He was at a loss for words. One couldn't blame him, twenty-four hours in a closet with a hyperactive Italian would be maddening for even the sanest of men.

"Ah, ah, ah." He said, smiling wickedly, "One phone call."

The threat hung in the air until Germany bowed his head and went back to folding. Austria closed and locked the door, walking back to his piano and starting the piece once again, playing just loud enough so he couldn't hear the whispered conversation in the closet.

"Hey, hey Germany."

"What is it, Italy?"

"Don't you think Austria would give us some pasta-"

"Shut up."

Author's Note

A present for the lovely Kyoshi7989~ Hopefully she likes it :D

Imagine if the moaning had been zombies. My guesses would be that:

A) He'd charm them with his piano like the Pied Piper of Austria or something but zombies instead of rats and then Italians instead of kids. So Austria would be rolling along the countryside with a mobile piano and a bunch of Italians following him.

B) Get Germany to help him and then they can have one of those dramatic scenes where they're standing back to back and there's a whole hoard advancing on them and Germany asks "How many bullets you got left?" With, like, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a flamethrower as his weapon

Then Austria releases the magazines in double Desert Eagles, they clatter to the ground and he slips new magazines that were on his belt in this cool motion and re-cocks them. "Enough."

Germany spits out the cigarette and crushes it under his boot, lights the flamethrower and they run into the hoard.

And they're both wearing army vests that show off their incredible bods or something.

I'd watch that if it was a movie, wouldn't you?

C) Find a crowbar and go Gordon Freeman on their asses. I SEE THE RESEMBLANCE, DO YOU?