Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia/Axis Powers Hetalia—Hidekaz does.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a fill for the Hetalia LJ Kink MEME and I'm posting it here. Story's canon and a little fluffy with some boy x boy love. Nothing explicit though. If you don't like it, GTFO, because I will report flames. Anyways. Here's some Prussia x Austria. Enjoy!


Feeling Useless

Roderich's mouth was hanging open slightly, in a very improper gesture. He closed it quickly before clearing his throat. He wanted answers. He had to know why Gilbert Beilschmidt of all people was here taking care of him. What the hell was the albino thinking? Their passionate hate for each other—

He got a little chuckle out of watching Gilbert jump and whip around. Red eyes were watching Roderich and the brunette felt warmth running to his cheeks. However, he put on his best 'I-am-not-amused' expression, delicate arms folding over his chest. Long fingers of one hand drummed on the upper arm of its opposite. He watched Gilbert with his cold, violet gaze.

"What are you doing here?" The silence almost went unbroken for five minutes, and Gilbert, for once, would've been fine with that. He didn't much feel like explaining himself but Roderich asked. . .

"Poisoning you," the albino replied with a snarky grin. Roderich rolled his eyes.

"I am not stupid, you fool. If you were trying to poison me, I'd be sick now."

"You're always sick," a quick reply. Roderich rolled his eyes a second time, scoffing as well.

"If you're done. . ."

"Nein, nein, I haven't even begun." The albino turned his back to Roderich, snickering to himself. The brunette frowned deeply. He allowed the silence to fall between them, wheeling himself to the table. He watched Gilbert work, his mind working out a thousand things to say. Why was Prussia being so nice to him? They'd always fought. . . So it simply didn't make sense. But, then again, this was Prussia, and he rarely made sense to anyone but himself.

Austria opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. What to ask. . . 'Why are you being so nice to me?' 'What are you plotting?' 'Who are you and what have you done with Prussia?' But none of those managed to make their way past prim lips. What made its way out, instead, was "You made breakfast for me?"

Violet eyes watched the back clad in blue, hands folded in his lap. He knew the Prussian had heard him when he'd paused momentarily. . . But now the Austrian wasn't getting an answer. He frowned again.

"I know it was you, Preußen. . ." the brunette said a little louder.

Even with his back turned, Gilbert could just tell the pianist was pouting—he could hear it in the other's voice. "Kesesese. . ." His trademark laugh which sent shivers down the Austrian's spine.

"Ja, I did it." The albino turned to face him. "So what?"

An indignant expression came to Roderich's face, which caused Prussia to laugh again.

"Why?" Austria demanded. The albino shook his head, turning to finish the lunch he'd been preparing for the other nation. He could feel those stunning eyes glaring into his back and stifled a laugh. With a huff, Roderich wheeled out of the kitchen and to the front room—more specifically, to the piano. He was angry. Prussia had succeeded. He listened to Chopin drift from the piano and grinned wide.

Graceful fingers danced along black and white keys, never once hitting a sour note, even after not playing for a while. Anger emanated from the brunette as his fingers moved flawlessly. He didn't notice that the albino was leaning in the door way from the hall into the living room, watching Austria play with a smile on his pale-white face. By the time the pianist had finished playing, Gilbert was gone from the doorway—gone from the kitchen too, Roderich noticed once he'd wheeled in there.

He looked around but found no sign of the albino. . . Had he left? Austria was about to go find out—he didn't want that Prussian wrecking havoc in his home—but then he realized that he was rather hungry, and lunch was on the table, waiting for him. Despite Gilbert's claims of poisoning him, Roderich ate—he knew there was no poison there.

Once he'd finished, he managed to wash his dish again, then decided to make sure the Prussian had, in fact, left. So Austria traveled the entire first floor in his wheelchair before stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't go up there with his wheelchair. . .

"Preußen?" A light voice called curiously. There was no answer. . . Austria frowned. Well, at least the nuisance was gone. He wheeled back to the guest room and changed into his night wear. He was already quite tired. Once clothed in his night gown, he lifted himself into the bed and curled up.

His mind was ablaze with thoughts. Why was Gilbert taking care of him? What was the albino planning? Was he trying to trick Roderich? Because the brunette wouldn't fall for it. Haze tugged at the corners of his mind, so he opened his eyes, only to have them close again. It wasn't even five in the evening. . . The thought passed and the whirlwind of other thoughts began. The last thing that crossed his mind before he gave into sleep was I can almost feel his fingers on my face. . .

Prussia was at Austria's side once the brunette was asleep. He'd removed his boots in order to creep around the other nation's house without being caught, though he had no ill intent—well . . . not a lot of ill intent. Pale, calloused fingers brushed gently over Roderich's cheek. Despite all their bickering—which Gilbert greatly enjoyed, thinking it fun—he did care for the brunette in his own way. And, though he'd never admit it, he hated to see Roderich suffer—especially when the cause of his suffering wasn't the Prussian himself. In a long-calculated move, he leaned down and brushed chapped lips against Austria's before pulling back. Roderich mumbled— Kinda cute, when he's not bitching, the albino thought with a grin, his fingers still stroking the pianist's cheek. However, when Austria mumbled, Prussia stopped and left the room, going to tend to something else. He hated doing house work (a woman's work, he'd say, but that would risk Hungary from nowhere and kicking his ass, so he refrained) but Austria needed help.