A/N: This fic was inspired by this YouTube video I watched with the same title of Germany in a very convincing maid outfit, flashing panty shots. Things went out of hand from there.

Disclaimer: Straight men would be killed instantly if this were ever in Hetalia. So, it's safe to assume this is only fanfiction and I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

His brother was staring at him intently, red eyes blinking at precisely every 3.4 seconds.

Normally, he wouldn't pay it any mind. Gilbert undressing him with his eyes was just one of the many habits he developed when bored. The older man was sprawled across the couch, no surprise there, and doing his best to keep him from getting absorbed in another book.

At first, Ludwig tried to ignore it, focusing on the pages before him. But Gilbert didn't even fidget, pinning him with the same unwavering stare. Against his better judgment, the blonde felt his curiosity piqued. His brother was giving him that stare, the one that screamed of hidden motives. And besides, he'd been reading the same paragraph for the third time now.

With a resigned sigh, he let the book fall down to his lap, shifting to regard the other with a flat look. "What is it now, Gilbert?"

As expected, the red eyes lit up and an unconvincing innocent smile plastered itself to pale lips. "I was just wondering if you're up for some helping."

Ludwig frowned. "Don't tell me Feliciano…!" He abruptly cut himself off. If the Italian was ever in trouble, he'd be the first to know. The happy-go-lucky brunette had his number tucked inside his breast pocket at all times, engraved onto all his pots, and sewn onto every pair of underwear. It wouldn't surprise him if the poor fool had the digits tattooed somewhere, just in case.

"Well, he'll be there too." His brother added as an afterthought.

"And what exactly are we helping?"

At this, Gilbert finally began fidgeting. "Oh nothing big. Just Roderich needed some help with cleaning the house."

Ludwig blinked, a blonde eyebrow already arching. "Ro… der… ich." The flat look returned.

"He did ask nicely!" The silver-haired man countered. "And think of all the favors we could ask in return."

"I don't remember you ever being this insistent all the times when I asked you to clean." Suspicion wormed its way through the blonde, his face morphing into disbelief. The pair could barely speak two sentences without insulting each other, and Gilbert expected him to believe he would willingly clean the Austrian's house?

"Well… some money might have been involved…" The elder admitted, standing up. "You know the fool's going to kill himself if he tries alone."

His brother had a point there; Ludwig acquiesced. The Austrian wasn't exactly the chores type of person.

"I'll even cook you a nice big serving of wurst for dinner."

The blonde brightened at that; Gilbert made the best wurst this side of Europe. It was a shame the man decided one day that Ludwig was grown enough to cook for himself, and has been mooching ever since. He sighed heavily again, putting away the book.

"Alright, alright. Only for Roderich's sake."

Gilbert looked as if his birthday had been announced early. He grinned in triumph, already pushing his younger brother out the door. "Don't worry, West, ya won't regret it."

The duo trekked south towards Vienna, crossing the border without incident. Ludwig grew a little uneasy; his brother had been uncharacteristically silent the majority of the way. The elder was a sight to behold, walking a few steps behind with his silver head bowed as if in deep concentration. There was no arm slung casually over his broad shoulders. There were no offhand remarks about how good his ass looked from behind.

But before Ludwig could ponder any further, Roderich's impressively sized house loomed in front of them. The front door was open a crack, as if expecting visitors. Even from outside, the unmistakable notes of Mendelssohn's G Minor filled the air, giving the scene a fairy tale quality.

Gilbert seemed to almost perk up at the sound, racing up the porch steps and throwing open the door. Ludwig plodded behind less enthusiastically; he prayed that Roderich wouldn't lecture while he was helping clean. Anything but lecturing. He got one boot in through the front door, before he froze in his tracks.

A practically glowing Feliciano was chatting eagerly with the silver-haired Prussian, windmill arms gesturing widely through the air, almost smacking at the sulking Lovino by his side. Gilbert, on his part, would ruffle the light brown mop affectionately. The scene would have been perfectly normal, except that both the Italians sported crisp maid uniforms, complete with a pristine white handkerchief tied at the nape of their necks. Feliciano was the first to notice him, bouncing over and holding his arm hostage.

"Germany! Germany! I'm so glad you could make it! I brought lots of pasta over so we could eat between breaks!" The brunette beamed at him, but Ludwig felt only trepidation. The maid uniform fit the slender body almost too well, as if the outfit had been tailored especially for him. Not even Kiku wore a complete maid uniform the times he'd clean around.

Lovino took the opportunity to shoot him a sinister smirk. "You're gonna get it this time, you potato bastard!" The exclamation was punctuated with a cackle, but the effect was dimmed slightly by his feminine attire.

Before anyone else could make a move, the piano chords abruptly stopped and Roderich materialized beside Gilbert. The Austrian looked immaculate as always, cravat and waistcoat perfectly ironed, chestnut hair putting even Ludwig's to shame. "Is everyone present? I suggest you all start soon, it's a rather big house after all. The cleaning supplies are in the bathroom, top cabinet."

Feliciano promptly saluted, dragging the speechless blonde toward the spacious first floor bathroom. The others followed suit, falling into a single file. Not for the first time since crossing the border, Ludwig experienced second thoughts. His brother had probably never cleaned a day in his life, relying on Elizaveta in his younger years before the blonde came along. Empty beer bottles were a permanent decoration on the floor of his room. His ears weren't up for a full-scale verbal battle between the uptight Austrian and his brother if Gilbert didn't perform up to par.

The second Ludwig fully stepped inside the large bathroom, all thoughts flew out of his head as he was brutally ambushed.

A rope was produced from nowhere, wrapping around both his arms and pinning them behind his back. His legs were kicked out from beneath him, sending him crashing down to the tiled floor with a hard thud. Before he had time to regain his lost breath, his torso was held down by the two Italians, each sitting on a shoulder. All he got was a mouthful of frills and hem fabric. Roderich launched himself at his legs, Mariazell bobbing like crazy. Finally, Gilbert made himself comfortable straddling his waist.

"Wha…? What the hell are you guys doing?" The element of surprise had finally worn off, and Ludwig was left to recover from a heart attack.

An unholy smirk split his brother's face in half, crimson eyes glowing with anticipation. "Just sit back and relax, West. We're gonna take good care of ya!"

Ludwig's eyes widened almost comically when Gilbert produced a pair of shears from one of the bottom cabinets, snapping together the blades a few times before turning his attention back on his restrained body. Hooking his fingers between the seams of his button-up shirt, the elder suddenly ripped them apart, sending buttons flying. The shears were applied to the sleeves, cutting through the fabric to free his arms without undoing the rope. The black undershirt shared the same fate as the sleeves, shredded apart without mercy.

The blonde panicked when his bare chest was exposed. "I… I thought we're supposed to be cleaning! How the hell did you even get the others to agree to this… this…!" Words failed him as horrible images filled his mind.

"Oh relax! You're not gonna get raped or anything! I mean, if Roderich agreed to this, then nothing R-rated will happen." The comment only earned the silver-haired man a glare from the Austrian.

The assurance did nothing to calm the trapped German, especially when Gilbert tossed his belt to the side, starting on his pants. With a swish of fabric, his pants were yanked off his legs, leaving him in only his boxers and socks.

"No! No! Stop, Gilbert! Stop it!" The blonde was close to hyperventilating when the tip of the shears touched the hem of his boxers, his knees banging against Roderich's chin as he struggled valiantly.

His pleas were ignored without so much as a trace of hesitation. Within seconds, he was completely naked, strips of boxer fabric strewn beside his thighs.

"This is not happening…" Ludwig moaned weakly, eyes squeezed shut as if willing away a nightmare.

His brother only sniggered in response. "We haven't even gotten to the best part yet!"

As soon as the words left his lips, there came a rustling of fabric as the silver-haired man rummaged through another cabinet. Pulling his arm out, Gilbert smirked even wider as he clutched a freshly laundered maid uniform in his pale hand.

Ludwig looked as if he had finally reached the gates of Hell, azure orbs bugging out of his skull. "You can't be serious! Gilbert Beillschmidt, you put that down right now or else I'll… mmph…!" The rest of his speech was muffled as the outfit was pulled over his head.

Feliciano and Lovino wasted no time freeing each of his arms one at a time to stuff into a puffy short sleeve, the younger of the two actually giggling while he wrestled with the obstinate limb. Gilbert eagerly pulled the hem down the rest of the way, delighted when the uniform fitted decently. The hips were slightly wide for a male, but that was to be expected. Best of all, the skirt ended a few inches above mid-thigh.

Roderich produced a pair of silky white panties from somewhere, and it was his and Gilbert's turn to stuff two kicking legs through, pulling the skimpy garment as high as it could go. A light pink dusted Ludwig's cheeks when his brother deliberately spread his legs, using the suggestive pose to roll on a pair of white stockings. To complete the look, three-inch heel Mary Janes were jammed onto his feet, clunking against the tiles when they hit the floor.

The Prussian leaned back to survey their handiwork, eyes sparkling with poorly concealed approval and lust.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Roderich piped up, a small frown pinching his brows.

"Oh yes!" Gilbert confirmed, wagging a finger in the air.

Another rustle of fabric sounded, and a lace garter belt was held up in triumph. Ludwig's struggling increased threefold, as did the pitch of his voice, but even he was no match for all four men at once. The garter belt eventually slipped on, attaching to the stockings perfectly.

"Cute!" Feliciano gushed, reaching down to ruffle the blonde strands from their severe hairstyle and tying on a matching handkerchief.

Lovino cackled madly again, relishing in the German's misery. "How does it feel now, you overly macho freak? You'll think twice next time before corrupting my little brother into your ways!" With a jab at the stunned Ludwig's forehead, the Italian dragged away his younger brother, their work finished.

Roderich stood up as well, composing himself as best he could while stepping over to the door. He gave a pointed stare at Gilbert. "I'll see you outside then. Feliciano will tell you where to start." The bathroom door closed with a bang behind him.

Gilbert scratched the back of his head lazily, feeling mighty accomplished. "I suppose I have to fulfill my end of the deal now. Got us some cleaning to do!"

He winked saucily down at the prone form of his brother, hooking a finger between his collar and easily slipping off his tie. It landed somewhere behind his shoulder, soon joined by the shirt. He made a show of stripping off his pants and boxers, just for Ludwig's benefit. A chuckle escaped his lips when he noticed the blush on his brother's cheeks turn a shade darker, the blonde biting his lip to prevent a tent in the skirt. That would have made everything even worse, not to mention highly inappropriate.

Deciding to tease the other later, Gilbert pulled out another maid uniform, slipping it over his head with ease. Though, it was the pair of pink polka-dotted panties dangling from a pale finger that had him pausing. "You know, I'm tempted to go commando. This thing can't possibly hold all my five meters…"

He sniggered loudly when he heard Ludwig make a choking noise from his spot on the floor. Bending over, he pulled up the panties anyway, snapping the elastic waistband playfully. Next, he propped up one slender deathly pale leg, tugging on a pair of fishnet stockings. He made sure to wriggle his hips, sending the hem of the skirt flying and giving his brother a full view. Finished, he stepped into a pair of flatter heeled shoes, reaching into the top cabinet to take out cleaning supplies.

Ludwig had finally snapped out of his daze, using the door behind him as support to try and stand up, bending his body in all sorts of awkward poses. "I could just refuse to clean."

"Ah. But that's your only ticket out of this place. And you don't want to rot in this house forever, do you?" Gilbert placed a firm grip on his brother's frilly waist, hoisting the other up to a fully standing position. "Let's not keep them waiting."

Flashing an impish smile, he pecked the taller man on the lips, twisting the knob to open the door.

Ludwig never felt so emasculated in his life. Just getting up the stairs without stumbling required Gilbert to support him from behind. This left plenty of opportunity for all out groping, the skirt short enough that bending over would expose his white underwear. Not to mention there was this breeze at the back of his legs that he just wasn't used to. His brother was enjoying every moment, his own skirt swishing next to Ludwig's face as he wiped the windows down. The blonde was kneeling, using a rag to polish the decorative silver tea sets displayed on the intricate coffee tables.

He could hear Feliciano humming a light-hearted Italian folk tune as he scrubbed the floor with Lovino, acting as if it was perfectly normal for four men to be dressed in revealing maid uniforms. Not for the first time, Ludwig wondered if this occurred frequently; he remembered Feliciano telling him he used to work for Roderich when he was little. As for Lovino, he had heard stories from Antonio as well.

But what baffled him was why Gilbert was so nonchalant about it. His brother kept on casting him lewd looks, bending down every so often to grope his ass under the skirt, reveling in the surprised gasps the blonde produced every time.

Hastily finishing with the tea sets, Ludwig helped himself up using the coffee table before Gilbert could cop another feel. His ankles wobbled unsteadily in the three-inch heels, and he never appreciated his boots more so than now. Carefully, praying not to fall flat on his face, he walked towards the tall bookshelf to sort the haphazard books. He didn't mind this part quite as much as the other chores, Roderich kept an extensive collection and he would browse through the tomes looking for interesting titles while he worked.

He had just managed to calm down somewhat from the traumatizing ordeal in the bathroom earlier in the day, resigning himself to just clean as quickly as possible so he could get out of the infernal outfit. Of course, he would never accept another invitation to clean the Austrian's house again. This was obviously some well-planned plot of Gilbert's to force him into an embarrassing position, and he could blame nobody but himself for falling into it.

He was jolted abruptly from his silent fuming when a knee wedged itself between his legs, a warm body pressed against his back. Hot breath blew over his exposed ear and Gilbert's voice whispered lowly, "Damn, I should've thought of this sooner. I'm such a genius…"

A cool hand rested on his outer thigh, teasing the bare skin there and slowly traveling upwards. Goosebumps erupted everywhere the questing fingers touched, the pale skin contrasting with his warm thighs. A shiver ran down his back when his brother started to rub circles right next to his crotch, toying at the edge of the panties. Another hand trailed up his stomach to his chest, groping him through the lace and frills of the satin bodice.

"Gilbert! This is not the time to molest me! Anybody could walk in and… guh…!" His scolding degenerated into a choked gasp when his brother chose that moment to palm him through the panties. All of a sudden, the skimpy piece of clothing seemed even more uncomfortable than before, and he feared that the cotton fabric had become a little wet.

Encouraged, the silver-haired man ground into the firm ass in front of him, pushing his younger brother further against the bookshelf. A moist tongue traced his lips in anticipation, and an idea popped inside his mind. Retreating his hand from the blonde's crotch, he replaced a finger in his mouth, slicking the digit with saliva. The finger then wormed its way underneath the panty fabric below the blonde's ass.

"You are not thinking about doing that…!"

Too late.

The digit that had been tracing around his hole suddenly slipped in without warning. The action caused Ludwig to arch his back, the bookshelf knocking against the wall. The blonde gripped the wooden shelves until his knuckles turned white, feeling his brother's wet finger wriggling inside him. His breathing escalated into erratic pants, and he knew that his face was flushed in red.

He couldn't help the small moan escaping his lips when he felt a second finger push through. It hurt slightly because it was dry, but the pain quickly dissipated when the bundle of nerves deep within him was struck mercilessly. The moans evolved into small cries, in sync with the rhythmic banging of the bookshelf. He cracked open one blue eye hazily, dimly noting The Collected Works of Carl Jung Volume 3 staring back at him. His knees weakened when his front rubbed against the spine of a protruding book, the double stimulations working together to bring him closer to the edge.

"Germany! Prussia! Austria wants you two downstairs!"

Feliciano's cheery voice from the other room cut through the pleasurable haze like an axe through wood. Both men jumped in surprise, Gilbert hastily pulling his fingers out and Ludwig tried to compose himself, wincing at the damp spots on his underwear. His erection still ached, but he knew it was no time to be thinking about that; they were lucky the Italian hadn't walked in on them outright.

He waited until his breathing was steady and his face cooler before shooting his older brother an icy glare, wobbling his way out the door. The elder only sniggered in response, completely unashamed. The duo made their way downstairs, Feliciano's oblivious face greeting them as they all gathered next to the patio door.

"Someone needs to go outside and sweep the patio." Roderich ordered monotonously, glancing at the both Gilbert and Ludwig.


Gilbert snorted at his brother's quick response, mortification already creeping onto the other's face. "Ya got no choice, West. It's either you or me. Blame Roderich for having a maid outfit fetish."

The blonde stared outside as if the plague had descended onto the backyard. "Why just us two?"

"Because we did it last time." Feliciano spoke up, grinning from ear to ear, gesturing at Lovino and himself.

Roderich cleared his throat for attention, hand reaching into his pocket to produce a coin. "There's a very easy way to settle this. Ludwig will go if it lands on heads and Gilbert will go if it lands on tails."

Without waiting for any response, he flipped the coin.


Gilbert burst into mad laughter. Feliciano held out a deck brush expectantly. Lovino cackled. Roderich just stared.

The German had turned white as a sheet, the color rivaling his brother's visage. "I refuse! People could see! I can't go out there like this!"

But the patio door was already being thrown open. "That's the point!" Gilbert bit out between laughs, pushing the blonde eagerly out the door. The deck brush was thrown out right after him, the patio door slamming shut without another word.

Shit! Ludwig immediately wrapped his arms around himself, eyes darting around the backyard in paranoia. Fortunately, there wasn't a single soul to be seen. Birds chirped merrily from the trees, the warm spring sunshine actually making the outdoors seem appealing.

Face turning pink again, the blonde swiftly grabbed the deck brush, proceeding to sweep the patio like a madman. His efforts were hindered slightly by his shoes, and he stumbled every few steps. It didn't help that the weather was perfect for breezes, and he would stop occasionally to hold down his skirt before the wind exposed his panties.

He was halfway finished, a small pile of dust and stray debris already gathering in a pile, when a heavy breeze blew past. Dropping the wooden handle, he quickly held down his skirt, feeling awkward at how the wind swirled between his naked thighs. The breeze ruffled at the frills and lace, sending them swatting at his face. The front of his skirt puffed up suddenly, and he cursed, immediately smoothing it down firmly.

A girlish giggle was heard over the wind, obviously taking humor at how the blonde man was wrestling with his skirt.

Blue eyes widened almost comically, and he whipped his head around to face the source of the giggling. His heart beat frantically and cold sweat broke out over his forehead. If it was Feliks, he would never hear the end of it, and he might as well just barricade himself from the world if it was Francis.

To his surprise, azure orbs locked with bright green.

Liechtenstein stared at him intently from her place leaning on the fence separating Austria from Switzerland. Her bare arms were propped on top the wood, her round face resting on top her hands. The girl giggled again, waving a hand shyly at the older nation. "Guten Tag, Deutschland!"

Instead of answering, Ludwig frantically searched for the same blonde mop belonging to Vash. The Swiss was almost never without his little adoptive sister, and the German was in no shape to meet the trigger-happy man. God knows what he would do if his sister saw him dressed like that.

"Eh? Are you not feeling well, Germany? You look a little green..." Concern colored her voice, and she stopped giggling.

Ludwig finally turned his attention to the girl. "No... not at all. I'm just... a little surprised at seeing you here. Where's your brother?"

The smile returned to her face. "Switzerland? He's out right now, and he asked me to watch the house."

Sighing in relief, Ludwig forced a smile on his lips. The girl still hadn't left, in fact, she hadn't moved at all from her spot. Awkward silence descended on the pair, Liechtenstein blinking at him expectantly in her much more modest pink dress. Suddenly, a light blush blossomed across her cheeks.

"You… you look cute, Germany."

Ludwig wondered if his heart had somehow failed awhile back and he was stuck in some kind of twisted Purgatory. He was completely speechless; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined a little girl calling him 'cute'.

"Danke..." He replied slowly, the word the only thing he deemed appropriate to say. He resumed cleaning, praying that the girl would stop staring at him and go inside soon. It was embarrasing, but he didn't want to be rude and tell her so.

"You're helping Austria clean, aren't you?" The question seemed innocent enough, but it caused Ludwig to flush pink.

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

Liechtenstein nodded in understanding. "Switzerland tells me he used to help Austria clean a long time ago. He doesn't change, does he?" The girl dissolved into giggles again.

Despite everything, Ludwig managed a small smile. "That's true."

"You should come over and visit more often. Switzerland doesn't mind you." She cocked her head to the side, as if remembering something. "Though, he says to not bring Prussia because he's a bad influence."

Ludwig actually chuckled at that. He could imagine the sour-faced Swiss lecturing his sister on who to avoid. It was no secret that Vash found Gilbert to be rather annoying. Probably the only person who could put up with the hooligan was himself. No wonder Elizaveta resorted to a cast-iron frying pan. It was only through centuries of living under his brother's roof that he developed immunity. Though, some common interests helped.

Thinking too hard on Gilbert reminded him of why he was out here sweeping the patio in the first place, and he grimaced. He finished up quickly, disposing of the pile of debris collected. He knocked the deck brush against the patio, shaking off excess dust before placing it neatly by the corner.

He turned towards Liechtenstein, intent on parting so he could escape the outdoors. "I'll see what I can do about visiting. You should get back inside before Vash returns."

The girl smiled again, waving a hand in farewell. "Then, auf Wiedersehen!"

The German nodded in response, watching the girl turn on her heel and dash back through the back door, her purple hair ribbon trailing behind her. Heaving an exhausted sigh, he turned to go back inside. The ordeal took more out of him than he had thought.

Inside the house again, he was greeted by his brother already changed back into his previous outfit, another set of men's clothing laid out on the table.

Roderich spoke up from behind the grand piano, face nonchalant as always. "That'll be all for today. Thank you for your help." He sat back down, diving into a Mozart concerto.

Ludwig practically tore out of the maid uniform, pulling on the shirt and pants like his life depended on it. He undid the handkerchief behind his neck, flinging the offending piece into Feliciano's grasp. Seizing his brother's arm in one hand, he strode quickly towards the front door, murderous intent flowing from him like a river.

"When we get back, you're going to wish you had never opened that mouth of yours earlier." This time, it was his turn to shove his laughing brother out the front door, ignoring Feliciano's cheerful waves.

That is, until he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, directly above the Italian's armpit. It looked like numbers from his distance, black numbers etched underneath the skin.


The digits were familiar. Too familiar. Ludwig only had time to shoot the Italian an incredulous look before slamming the front door behind him.

A week had passed since the fateful day when Ludwig agreed to clean Roderich's house with Gilbert. The silver-haired man finally died down to tiny chuckles when reminded. The first thing the blonde made his brother do was cook enough wurst to last a month. The Prussian was still recovering, nursing a beer bottle and sifting through the mail for anything interesting. Ludwig was sitting next to him, trying to finish a book.

His eyes landed on a small package, wrapped carefully in pastel-colored wrapping paper and sporting a pink bow. He picked it up out of curiosity, turning it over in his hands but finding no address.

"Since when did you receive such pansy looking packages in the mail?" He called over to his brother.

Only a white card was tucked underneath the bow, and he dug it out, flipping it over to read the message neatly printed inside.

Dear Germany,

I've been working on this for the past couple of days. Consider it just a small present from me. You looked so cute a week ago that I hope you'll like it. Perhaps I should make one for Switzerland? He sometimes helps me clean around the house.



"What is it?" The blonde looked up from his book, reaching over to pluck the card from his brother's pale fingers. He read the brief sentences once, before staring at the package with a mixture of alarm and fearful anticipation.

The house echoed with loud laughter when Gilbert finally tore open the wrapping paper, slapping his knees as he practically bent over double. Ludwig was left with a burning face, completely speechless and peeved.

Nestled within the wrapping paper, carefully folded and ironed, was a new maid's uniform, stitched with perfection and complete with frills.


A/N: Hope no one's brain melted. I know mine almost did.

Guten Tag – Good day

Danke – Thank you

Auf Wiedersehen – Good-bye

As for the numbers, I believe they are Germany's country code followed by Berlin's area code. (Now you know how to call someone in Berlin!)