The Duties of an Austrian Maid

But first, a brief history lesson!

'After German reunification in 1990, a plan was developed to merge the States of Berlin and Brandenburg. Though some suggested calling the proposed new state "Prussia"...'– Wikipedia. This fic takes place in 1990 during the time when Prussia was a proposed name for this new state (which in 1996 was voted not be created anyway). I'm sure Gilbert was devastated when he realised that Ludwig wasn't stupid enough to name any of his territory after Prussia. He probably sulked for weeks.


The piano, Roderich reflected as he teased the brilliant notes of Chopin from the instrument, was a great many things. It was a calming voice of reason, a soother of the soul, and a joyful ensnarer of the senses. It was an often much-needed escape from reality into other worlds shaped by chords and octaves. However, tragically, not even the piano was enough to drown out the sound of Gilbert's voice.

"Did I tell you that I might have my own land again soon?" he was saying at that moment, speaking just loud enough for his words to carry clearly over Roderich's playing. "There are a couple of states in Germany that are going to merge together and name themselves Prussia. Isn't that awesome?"

"Very," Roderich responded flatly without missing a note. "I can hardly wait."

"Me neither!" Gilbert had either ignored the sarcasm or was just totally unable to comprehend why anyone would be less than ecstatic to hear that Prussia could be making a comeback, no matter how small. "It won't be long until I'm hanging my flag out in the streets again and people are singing my national anthem and thanking me for allowing them the privilege of being part of my glorious nation. Do you know what the first thing I'm going to do is when I have land and people again?"

"Do tell," Roderich replied distractedly.

"I'm going to build an army and expand my territory by invading Austria," Gilbert said proudly, as if the nation in question wasn't the owner of the house he was currently sitting in. "Then you'll be my slave and have to do whatever I say. I think I'll make you the maid in my new house and you can scrub the floors, make the beds, do the dishes, give me sexual favours –"

A horrible crashing noise sounded from the piano where Roderich had slammed both hands onto the keys in shock. He whirled round on his stool to face Gilbert, who was looking rather stunned at the sudden noise.

"What did you just say?" Roderich demanded.

"I said that you'd be doing my dishes?" Gilbert suggested, looking as though he didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

"After that!"

"…that you'd be scrubbing my floors?"

"You said that before the dishes, moron."

"Well you're the maid, it's your job to keep track of the household chores," Gilbert snapped. Roderich sighed and massaged his temple, sure that the onslaught of stupid was starting to give him a headache.

"I was talking about the part where you mentioned sexual favours," he clarified.

"Oh, yeah. What about it?" Gilbert replied casually. Roderich stared at him. The other nation was wearing a serious expression. Roderich suspected that in his mind, Gilbert was already seeing this supposed new state of his as having risen to the former glory of Prussia (something that Roderich severely doubted Ludwig would ever let happen) and that Austria already belonged to him. Arrogant idiot. But, frighteningly enough, he seemed equally convinced that Roderich's duties as his maid were concrete plans for the future.

"Um. You don't look as though you're joking," Roderich observed slowly. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Did I giggle?" he asked, looking as matter of fact as if they were discussing the weather. Roderich, meanwhile, was struggling to keep his composure.

"Maybe you should be doing, as the very thought of us ever doing anything improper together is hilarious in its absurdity," he said stiffly. Gilbert looked thoughtful.

"You think so?" he asked distractedly. "Because I find that mental image rather hot." He broke out of his perverted daydream to direct his best leer towards Roderich, who, despite his best efforts, could not contain the furious blush that spread across his face like wildfire. He turned away in an attempt to hide it from Gilbert.

"I assure you that none of your lewd imaginings will ever become a reality," he somehow managed to say. "Even if by some impossible feat you were actually able to carry out your intentions of securing a state and declaring it independent from Germany, you would never be able to –" The rest of his sentence was cut off by the startled gasp he made when he felt Gilbert's lips press an open mouthed kiss to his neck. He hadn't even heard the other nation move. A hand came to rest on his hip while another slid onto his thigh and started to creep its way towards his…Roderich grabbed it by the wrist before he could even think about its intended goal. He felt Gilbert smirk against his neck but didn't seem able to move or even breathe for that matter as the other nation moved his mouth up to trace the shell of Roderich's ear with his tongue and then catch the lobe in his mouth, and oh, but that felt really, really –

And suddenly he was standing and holding Gilbert back at arm's length.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Roderich almost winced at how flustered he sounded. He fought to regain control over the acrobats who had suddenly started performing very impressive flips in his stomach. Gilbert's predatory smirk didn't help his efforts.

"I thought we could get some practice in before you start work at my place," he purred.

"There's no guarantee that you'll even have your own place ever again," Roderich protested. Gilbert waved away the possibility with a flick of the wrist.

"Of course I will! Why wouldn't West want to name his state after my brilliant nation? Prussia was the greatest nation in the world and everyone knows it." Gilbert basked in his own awesomeness for a moment while Roderich stared in disbelief. He then seemed to remember their present situation. "Now come here and stop being difficult," he ordered, and grabbed Roderich's wrist, yanking him forward into the taller nation's arms.

Roderich would have protested, but all he managed was a small, indistinct noise because there were suddenly lips pressing against his and a firm hand at the back of his head holding him in place and running its fingers through his hair. He'd never been this close to Gilbert before, close enough so that the heat from the other nation's body felt nuclear on his skin. Then, suddenly, Gilbert was teasing open his mouth, and when their tongues met it felt like electricity. Roderich clutched tighter to Gilbert's shirt, though he couldn't even remember when or how his hands had crept up Gilbert's back to where he could now feel the jut of the blond nation's shoulder blades. Unintentionally, Roderich made another muffled noise into Gilbert's mouth, but this one sounded more like a moan. It seemed to encourage Gilbert, who deepened the kiss and moved his hand from encircling Roderich's waist to tug the back of his shirt from his pants, reaching up under the material to slide his hand along Roderich's back, delighting in the feel of skin against skin.

And then suddenly the kiss was broken and Roderich's mouth had never felt so empty. He opened his eyes dazedly to find Gilbert's red irises locked onto him with a look so intense that Roderich thought it might burn him. There was an expression on Gilbert's face that in his current light-headed state he couldn't quite fathom, but he was distracted from trying to understand it when Gilbert started trailing light kisses along his jaw and untangled his hand from Roderich's hair to pull the cravat from the shorter nation's collar. Gilbert's fingers nimbly undid the top few buttons of Roderich's shirt so that he could move the collar out of the way as his lips lightly left a path of lingering kisses down Roderich's neck. When he reached the gap between neck and collar bone, he bit the skin lightly and started to suck and nibble on the skin there with a skill that made Roderich's legs feel rather weak.

"You're not complaining anymore," Gilbert murmured, his breath playing across the spot that he'd been kissing, making Roderich shiver.

"It wouldn't stop you if I did," he countered somewhat breathlessly, causing Gilbert to chuckle and place a light kiss just under his ear.

"True," the blond nation admitted, and removed his hand from under Roderich's shirt so that he could gently tug his arm, leading him over to the couch and placing chaste kisses to his lips and cheeks as they went.

Roderich let himself be pushed down onto the soft fabric of the couch that Gilbert had been lounging on for most of the afternoon. He didn't even say anything when Gilbert's shoes, which Roderich constantly told him to remove when in the house and which the other nation constantly wore regardless, were pressed into his sofa. He was too distracted by the fact that Gilbert was resting between his thighs, leaning down to practically lie on top of him as they kissed again, and Roderich's world shrank once more to a hazy bubble of body heat and desire. He ran his hands up and down Gilbert's back, appreciating the other's fit, toned body in a way he'd never allowed himself to before.

Gilbert, meanwhile, was untucking the rest of Roderich's shirt so that he could reach to undo the final few buttons. His fingers fluttered across Roderich's belly and slid smoothly over his chest, exploring every region of his torso and mapping out each dip and rise of his skin, memorising the faintly defined ribs and the way that his chest rose and fell with his breathing. Then he shifted himself further down the couch so that his mouth could follow the patterns he'd traced with his hands, using breath, lips, tongue, teeth. He listened to the noises that Roderich made, learning which spots provoked the strongest reactions, where to be gentle and where to be not so gentle. He lightly bit Roderich's hip where it met the waistband of his trousers and felt the other nation shiver. He smirked.

Roderich was very aware that the blood that had coloured his cheeks earlier had now flowed further south on his body. Apparently Gilbert had noticed as well because as he kissed his way back up to Roderich's throat he let his hand wander into the region that begged for his attention, receiving a very satisfying gasp of his name and a twitch from Roderich's hips as a result. After kissing Roderich deeply on the mouth, feeling the other nation's need through the intensity he displayed, he leant close to Roderich's ear to whisper seductively to him.

"Let me help you with that." He indicated 'that' with a firm stroke to the relevant part of Roderich's body, delighting in the moan that it produced. He slid his hand up to the top of Roderich's trousers and was fiddling with the button when –

"So this is where you ran off to."

Roderich, dazed and not quite able to form coherent thoughts due to sensory overload, wasn't quite able to place the voice, though it was very familiar. A part of his subconscious, however, did recognise it and was saying 'oh shit' in a rather panicked tone. Gilbert moved his hand away from anywhere inappropriate and glared up at the newcomer, and his words, when he spoke, had the effect on Roderich as a bucket of ice.

"Fuck off, West, can't you see I'm busy?" he snapped, looking totally unabashed at being caught in rather more than just a compromising position by his brother, although he was clearly irritated at being interrupted.

"You can come back round here later, but right now you're coming with me, or did you forget that we're having Kiku and Feliciano round for dinner? I need you to help me prepare the meal," Ludwig scolded his brother, who, judging from the look on his face, had totally forgotten about any such plans.

"OK, fine, how about this," Gilbert said, glancing at Roderich. "Give me twenty minutes to finish up here and then I'll – hey!"

The angry shout was caused by Roderich finally overcoming enough of his horror and embarrassment to sit up and push Gilbert off the couch. Ignoring the curses directed at him from the floor, he turned to Ludwig, who wore his normal stoic expression, although he cocked an eyebrow a little as he took in several of the marks that had already become quite obvious on Roderich's chest. The brunette hurriedly pulled his shirt closed and straightened his glasses, trying to gather even a shred of his dignity.

"This isn't what it looks like!" he tried to explain, and Ludwig's eyebrow rose almost to his hairline. "I'm a victim here! He was molesting me against my will!"

"You looked pretty consenting from what I saw," Ludwig replied mildly, and Roderich flushed as he remembered exactly what had been about to happen when the German had walked in.

"Of course he was consenting," Gilbert chipped in from his seat on the floor. "How could anybody possibly resist my amazing sex appeal?" Roderich threw a cushion at him and felt mild satisfaction when it hit him square in the face. Why not? It wasn't as if he had any dignity left to lose.

"You don't look very surprised," the Austrian remarked to Ludwig, who was now leaning against the doorjamb and trying not to smile. Roderich paused slightly before hesitantly continuing, "Does this sort of thing happen often?"

Ludwig shook his head and Roderich firmly repressed any feelings of relief that the action gave him. "No," Ludwig said, "but it's not exactly shocking if it's with you." Roderich stared at him, shocked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded to know. "I don't have any sort of interest in your brother. I've never so much as looked at him the wrong way before!"

"You totally have," argued Gilbert, who seemed to be perfectly comfortable on the carpet. "And you were definitely pretty interested just then when I was –" Roderich threw another cushion at him, but harder and less well-aimed than the first time as it sailed past Gilbert's head, missing him by an inch. Gilbert glared at him. "Would you stop using me for target practice?" he asked irritably. "It's not my fault that you totally want me."

Roderich gave in to a childish impulse. "Do not!" he retorted.

"Do too!" Gilbert insisted, and Roderich blanched as he realised that he was acting as if he was on the same intellectual level as Gilbert. It was a more horrifying realisation than when he'd discovered that Ludwig had been the one to catch him getting rather close to Gilbert.

Meanwhile, Ludwig had grown bored of their bickering and moved from his position in the doorway to collect Gilbert, yanking him upright by the back of his shirt.

"You can dispute this some other time. Right now, I need you back at the house," he said sternly.

"God, you're such a cockblocker, West," his brother grumbled as Ludwig dragged him through the door, the German nodding to Roderich on his way out. Gilbert called back to Roderich from the hallway: "Don't worry, I'll be sure to find a great maid uniform for when you become my slave!"

Ludwig's voice, quieter but audible, drifted from the hall in response. "Could you keep the details to yourself? I don't want to know what kind of weird things you two get up to in the bedroom."

Roderich let his head drop into his hands, feeling the heat radiating from his cheeks, too scandalised to even correct the misunderstanding. He listened to the front door slam on Gilbert's maniacal laughter, which he could still hear faintly until the two brothers had left his property completely. Staring through the gaps between his fingers at the two cushions lying on the floor, he wondered if he'd ever be able to look Ludwig in the eye again. He knew that he wouldn't have the same trouble with facing Gilbert, but that's because the problem with him was going to lie elsewhere. Roderich knew Gilbert well enough to know that he wouldn't give up on finishing what he'd started. It was going to get tedious having to fight off his advances, because obviously Roderich didn't want a repeat of what had happened today. He hadn't even liked it, really; he'd just gotten caught up in the moment, and, well, Gilbert was really good at what he did, especially that part where he –

Roderich smacked himself on the head to try and beat the memories out of his mind, but it was a futile effort. He could still feel the tingles on his skin where some of Gilbert's more vigorous attentions had been given, and one part of him in particular was very unhappy at the sudden loss of the Prussian. Roderich supposed he ought to do something about that. Sighing, he stood and picked up the cushions, arranging them neatly on the sofa again. He was going to go and have a cold shower, he decided, and then come back down to play a few more pieces on the piano. His eyes fell on the piano stool where Gilbert's troublesome advances had commenced. A very cold shower, he though.


Gilbert sat at the table around which Ludwig, Kiku and Feliciano were also seated, eating the meal that his brother had thought more important than Gilbert finally getting some action with a certain Austrian. It was bullshit, he mused idly as he speared another piece of wurst with his fork. Clearly his needs were more important than some stupid meal being ready in time. Couldn't Ludwig see how amazingly sexy Roderich was? Did he not understand how hard it was going to be for him to get into that situation again, now that he'd lost the element of surprise?

He was brought out of his thoughts by Kiku addressing him. "Huh? What?" he asked stupidly, looking up from where he'd been stabbing the wurst.

"I asked if you were all right," Kiku repeated, also eyeing the sausage-directed violence.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm good, though I'd be better if I hadn't been so rudely interrupted earlier when I was so close at getting into Roderich's pants – ow!" He glared at Ludwig, who had stamped on his foot rather harder than necessary, Gilbert thought. He glared.

Ludwig merely ignored him and calmly offered a tureen to the shocked looking Kiku. "More potatoes?" he asked.