Your Right, My Order

"They've stoppet," Germany said.

America nodded towards him. The both of them were covered in mud. And that was the least of their problems. They each carried their packs, slung over their shoulders, resting in a near permanent groove in their backs. These packs were meant to carry one hundred and twenty pounds. They carried one hundred and fifty. All of it now was weapons. Weapons they could not leave behind for the enemy to use.

"We might was well stop here." America lowered his field bag. "We won't be goin' anywhere else in this kinda weather."

Germany wanted to protest, but as America sunk to the ground, Germany knew no amount of commanding would make him budge. It was such a relief to let it go, Germany almost just let it fall.

He dropped to the ground almost as he wished he could cast everything else away.

"Vhat are you doing?" Germany questioned, his voice merely a rasp. America looked at his water container for a second before answering.


"Ve von't hafe anyding 'til tomorrow. If ve're lucky," Germany reminded him. Germany could assumed America shrugged, right before he sipped at the liquid. It was as if it were heaven.

With all the mud and grime and sweat and blood, it was.

"Here." America handed it over.

Germany eyed it, trying to keep himself from reaching over and taking it. He watched some of the water, which America had not licked from the top, fall from their beaded form and start to slide down the outside. Such a terrible waste.

"Take it, it'll mean less fer me to carry," America shoved it into him. Germany only took it because he did not want it to fall. Then it would all be gone.

Germany had saved a bullet for himself by this point.

"I'll take first vatch," Germany established. He nearly handed the bottle back when he realized it was empty. America took it out of his hand and just dropped it on to the ground. America nodded belatedly. It was a change from when America would insist on it being him. Germany moved to the broken window, moving aside the glass with his foot and trying not to lean heavily against the wall. The wall probably would not be able to take it.

It was quiet. All except for the sounds of their breathing. Germany's sounded as if he were still running. America's sounded as if his ribs were broken.

"What's the first thing you want to do when you go home?"

Germany glanced back. In the dark, he could just tell America was lying on his back, seeming to try and stretch himself flat. But he was slowly curling on to his side, hand on his gun.

"Don't talk about dat. It's distracting."

"From what?" America asked. For some reason he was amused. Germany realized that the wall could indeed hold his weight after all. "I'm going to have pancakes for breakfast. With syrup. Apple syrup, that's what I'm gonna to do."

Germany tried to focus his blurry eyes outside. It was just black. The moon did not seem to be able to penetrate the clouds.

"I'm gonna sleep until noon."

Germany found himself sitting on the ground. There was glass everywhere. He would hear if someone was coming. He just had to keep from falling asleep.

"I'm going to go out again, to Vetter..."

"I'm gonna to ask Japan to come over so we can play on the Playstation 4."

"I'm going to bake cakes vith Austria again."

"I'm gonna to apologize to Canada."

"I'm going to ask Prussia to stay," Germany felt the tears slipping down his cheeks.

"And I'm gonna tell England... I'm going to tell him..." America was sobbing so very quietly.

"I am..."

I'm going to tell Italy yes.

They were crying because they knew, even if they lived through this, they would not do these things they so wished to do. They would do these things now, if given the option. They wanted to do these things now. They wanted to do anything which would mean they were not here.

Germany did not recall falling asleep, but he had.

"Germany! Germany!" America was hissing the words out as quietly as he could. Germany started awake, reaching for his gun. America caught his hand to slow him, putting a finger up to his mouth and pointed at the window. The lightest part of his face were the paths that the tears had taken last night.

Germany felt the familiar weight of his gun in his hand. He pulled his field pack to him and lifted it on to his back, raising to his feet. What he had been doing every day since this started who knows how long ago now. He looked out the window, face pressed against the side.

The enemy was coming.

He headed for the door, giving America the signal to follow behind him. He heard America aim his gun. Germany did his best not to step on any glass.

"I th–"


America shut up instantly, but gripped Germany's shoulder. Germany spared a second to glance behind him towards where America was facing.

They both stopped moving. Stopped breathing.

Finally something moved. Bounced off the ground and rolled towards them. America moved faster than him and pulled him right through another window and into another building, rolling them right up into the corner before the grenade went off.

The wall came towards them, and dust and glass and dirt. Germany did not wait for things to clear, they could not afford to. He rose to his feet, grabbing at America's arm.

"Let's move!"

"Whu...?" America groaned, blood running down his face. Germany lifted him to his feet and America seemed to regain himself.

"Move!" Germany headed out through another door, hearing America stumbling after him.

Outside again. Germany knew they needed to get around, they could not fight with the others coming straight at them. America pointed to the left and nearly started in that way, but Germany shook his head. He tried to hear past his heart. It was beating too fast, too loud.

Maybe Romano was right. He would drink too much beer.

"Wir sollten es durch die Kanalisation probieren," America said in German. Best thing, it seemed to take most of the others longer to translate from German. English was a requirement for everyone to know by now.

"Es wäre viel zu einfach uns gefangen zu nehmen," Germany reminded him. America frowned.

America was right about one thing. They needed to get out of town and around without being seen. Germany glanced about once more, ready to move when he saw it.

Sniper. Probably Ca–


He tackled America and felt a sudden pain in his chest. He could not afford to fall unconscious, no matter how tempting the feeling was.

"Germany?" America asked him. Germany tried to concentrate on his face. America was lifting him and Germany felt his pack slipping. He gripped it tightly. If it was the last thing he did, he would never let go.

Actually, if either of them let go of their packs it would be the last thing they ever did.

"Stay with me Germany, stay with me! Look at me! Look at me!" America urged him. Germany kept his eyes on the other's glasses, the other's eyes, trying not to blink and forget the objective. "You aren't dyin' on me now!"

Keep watching America's eyes. Do not let go of the field bag.

Germany started to remember just how hungry he was. But no, he should not be thinking about that. He should be watching America's eyes.

Germany could not feel anything. But he could continue to see America's eyes.

"I need you here, now. Why the hell did you do that? I can take a bullet – you shouldn't have done that! Idiot!"

Germany could have laughed. America calling him an idiot? He was so used to telling the other that it had almost become a habit. But America had never called him an idiot. How long had they been out here now? So long, yet America had never said that.

...was it that bad?

"No, don't close your eyes dammit! Look at me!"

Germany reopened his eyes, not exactly certain when they had shut. They were inside again, it was dark. America was tugging at Germany's bag and Germany finally let it go. If America had it, that was all right.

"Look at me," America repeated again.

"I am," Germany responded. America smiled.

"Think of Italy's pasta," America told him. Germany did so, because outside his head was filled with America's eyes and voice and it was getting a bit boring. "You aren't dying on me... okay?"

"Ant... leafe you by yourself?" Germany mused. "You't be dead in a minute..."

"Exactly, you can't trust me on my own," America grunted. He was bandaging him now. Germany did not remember when he had gotten his coat off, but he was beginning to feel the chill again.

He was still watching America's eyes, but Germany wondered when America had started crying. Germany did not remember seeing him start. All he could think of now, other than for a far off scent of a kitchen, was that it would be really too embarrassing for America to be crying for him. America had to be thinking about home again.

"Germany... oh my God, Ludwig... look at..."

'Germany~ I made Germany's favourite! Come, come! You're always working too hard, you should relax Germany! It's been sooo long since you've come to see me!'

Ludwig would give nothing more than to join him.

'Don't you dare.'

The blond had a grip on his shoulder. The same grip that he had developed over these years. Firm, yet not painful.

'We have a war to finish, soldier.'

The scent of pasta was fading away, along with the sight of the only place he remembered being truly happy.

Alfred gave him a sad smile.

'Don't look like dat. I hafe a frient to keep company.'

Germany woke up with a start. Really, it was the only way to wake up on the battlefield. It was still dark. It was not as cold and America was on top of his legs, asleep. It took Germany a few moments to remember what had happened. The grenade, then the sniper. They had missed the time for the supply drop.

Without much thought Germany reached for the water bottle he saw, knowing after his fingers wrapped around it they could not have anymore, it was all gone. But despite this, the container seemed a bit heavy for being completely empty.

It was not, it was completely filled. Germany found himself trying to swallow all of it at once before rationalization overcame him again, but by then he was already coughing on the excess water.

America stirred.

"Drink as much as you want," America yawned. "The tap in the basement here actually works. And it's actually water."

Germany stopped in mid swallow. "Are you certain?"

"Used the test tablets, then drank it myself," America gingerly moved off of Germany and leaned against the wall Germany was leaned up against.

Germany remembered just how hungry he was, but pushed those thoughts away. The fact they had water was good enough right now.

"You bastard. I oughta hit you."

Germany stopped, looking towards America in surprise. It had not been long since he had seen America serious, but America angry was a different story.

"You nearly got yourself killed you know. Never take a bullet for me. Why the hell did you do that?"

Germany took another sip of water. America was a bit of a hypocrite some times, but Germany did not mind.

"You're one of my men. I'll take de bullet for you if I can. Idiot."

America scowled slightly, but he could not hold his face like that for long. A small laugh escaped the other and he leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Your height on me saved you, y'know. Missed your heart. Would have pierced mine straight through."

"You callet me Ludwig."

Germany remembered now, just barely. America did not seem very embarrassed about it, simply turned to be able to look him in the eye.

Germany was surprised to realize he had been able to memorize most every faint vein around those blue irises.

"I was desperate. Did I overstep my boundaries, sir?"

Ludwig snorted. "Don't call me sir. Den I't know I vas dying."

America snickered. "Well then, sure. Just so you'll know. Just for you." He stopped, pulling out the water container from Germany's bag and standing up. "I'm going to fill this one up now, be right back."

America headed towards a doorless frame before stopping.

"Does that mean I can call you Ludwig?"

Germany thought about it.

"Only if I call you Alfred."

Alfred grinned back at him.

"Wash off yer face with that water, Ludwig. We might as well use this water to its full extent while we can."

The title comes from something I read about German and American relations. That they 'respect each other's rights and orders'. Considering the characters in Hetalia, it is only natural we think of American rights and Germany's order. But they both have both traits.

"Wir sollten es durch die Kanalisation probieren" = "We should try the sewer system."

"Es wäre viel zu einfach uns gefangen zu nehmen" = "It would be too easy to capture us."

"Runter!" = "Down!"

Thank you to Rinael for these translations!

I do not know if this is anything like you had in mind, AnimeDuchess, but I hope it has been enjoyed.