Disclaimer: Hetalia is, sadly, not mine.
Author's notes: Written for a prompt from Mello. WARNING: contains invading of vital regions.
Roderich Edelstein was not particularly excited about the World Meeting today. He would much rather stay home and play the piano forte than sit through hours of boisterous arguing about issues that, in large part, did not concern him. The only perquisite of attending would be the opportunity to spend a few precious hours in a place where a certain albino nation would not be able to bother him. Since the Prussian had ceased to be a nation, he had taken up bursting into the aristocrat's house and hassling him until he was inevitably kicked out as a full time-job, and, consequently, the Austrian's sanity was wearing thin.
The brunette had only just sat down in the meeting room and begun to straighten his papers when he felt a pair of eyes boring into his back. He did not have to turn around to know they belonged to Gilbert, but he did anyway in order to favor the silver-haired man with a glare. "Hey Specs, long time no see," the Prussian greeted him, grinning broadly. Roderich quashed the urge to protest that this was hardly the case and concentrated instead on making sure the vein that was now pulsing in his forehead did not explode from the magnitude of his frustration. "You look awful. But that's just 'cause you've been going through withdrawal from my awesomeness, right? Good thing I decided to show up today."
The aristocrat did not deign to respond, but instead turned to Ludwig, who was standing behind his brother looking rather sheepish. "What in God's name possessed you to let him come to this meeting?" the brunette enquired. The German colored before mouthing "blackmail." Roderich quirked an eyebrow, but let the issue drop. He did not want to know.
Instead, he returned to his gaze to his papers. At the sharp sound of a chair scraping across the floor to his right, he turned to see that Gilbert had taken the seat next to him. He sighed with exasperation, but did not look up. Years of experience had taught him that giving the silver-haired man any attention would only encourage him.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Alfred, also grinning, but in a less predatory manner than the Prussian had been. "Don't worry, I gave him the ok to be here."
Roderich tried to smile, but suspected his expression was more like a grimace. He did not take kindly to being touched without his permission. "Must he sit here?"
"Well, I figured that since he's our guest, I'd let him sit wherever he wants to."
"That's not fair!" Francis cried from across the room. "When I wanted to sit next to le Autrichien, you wouldn't let me!"
"That's because I don't like you," the American retorted. "You're always shooting down the great ideas I have. Plus, the last time I invited you to my Christmas party, you spiked the punch, got seven women pregnant, and convinced the bus company to go on strike so I couldn't get a ride home."
The Frenchman smiled, a far-off look in his eyes. "Yes, that was a rather good party..."
"Alfred, can you start the meeting already?" Arthur asked angrily. "We were supposed to have been underway five minutes ago!"
The American promptly launched into a long-winded explanation of how he, the hero, was going to solve all the world's ills. At first, Roderich tried to listen attentively, if only to distract himself from the fact that Gilbert was there. However, when Alfred had begun to elaborate upon how he planned to harness the powers of squirrels for good, the brunette abandoned this endeavor entirely and settled for trying not to look at the Prussian.
"Psst, Roddy!" The aristocrat sighed, knowing he should not have expected ignoring Gilbert to be easy. It never was.
"C'mon, you can't ignore me the whole meeting," the silver-haired man continued in a stage whisper. "These things are hours long, and I know you don't give a shit about half of what they're saying."
Roderich took a deep breath and returned his gaze to the American, who now was beaming and gesticulating wildly. Seconds later, he felt a sharp jab in his stomach. The first was quickly followed by a barrage of others. He caught Gilbert's wrist, successfully frustrating future attempts by the latter to assault his stomach. The brunette finally turned to face the Prussian. "What do you want?"
"Geez," the albino nation replied, easily slipping out of Roderich's grasp. "No need to get so touchy. I only wanted to tell you about a proposition. A wager, really-"
"What makes you think that I would be foolhardy enough to enter into a wager with you?"
"Because it's something I made up, so it's awesome. And because I can tell you're bored out of your mind, and the meeting's not even halfway done. Anyway, don't you want to know what the wager is?"
"Well, it's going to be a contest to see who can make the other nation act like an idiot in front of everyone else first. Without showing that they were involved at all, of course – otherwise it'd be too easy. And the winner gets- don't you want to know what the winner gets, Specs?"
"As you seem intent on telling me, I have little choice in the matter."
"The winner gets to make the loser do whatever he wants for a week!" The Prussian grinned broadly, clearly pleased with himself. "It's totally awesome, right? Man, this meeting's gonna be so much better, and all thanks to me."
"You are assuming that I will agree to take you up on your wager."
"Well, I mean, it's awesome, so you're going to, right?"
"I most certainly will not."
"Aww, why not?"
"There is no way I will risk having to do whatever you say for a week."
"You're afraid you'd lose."
"You're too damn prissy to accept a manly wager."
"In your heart, you know you can't resist my awesomeness. I mean, we haven't even started the wager yet, and it's been practically impossible for you to-"
Gilbert beamed. "Shake on it?" The brunette complied.
"All right, we each get five minutes to try to make the other nation into the laughingstock of the world, during which he can't do anything to defend himself. If it turns out they both suck – totally unlikely, since I'm involved – then the first person gets another chance. And since I'm way more awesome, I'll go first!"
"You cannot just make up rules as you go!" Roderich hissed angrily.
"You can't do anything about it now – we already shook on it! Unless you want to surrender right now...?"
The aristocrat had scarcely had time to sigh in exasperation before he felt a hand on his knee. His whole body tensed. He had expected that Gilbert might resort to measures that he himself would never consider, but he had never imagined he would stoop this low. The Prussian's hand inched further up his leg. The silver-haired man had made overtures towards him before, but he had never taken him seriously; the man was generally about as discerning as Francis. Surely his words had meant nothing and had no bearing on his present actions.
Gilbert's hand gained another inch. The Prussian knew he hated being touched without permission; he was simply using that fact to his advantage to try to win the wager. A logical decision in which no emotion was involved. Another inch. Roderich's breathing was quickening. But surely that was only because he was irate with the Prussian for encroaching upon his personal space. The silver-haired man's hand had advanced halfway up his thigh. It definitely was not related to the sensation of the Prussian's fingertips brushing against his leg with more gentleness than he believed the man was capable of. And another inch. His heartbeat was accelerating rapidly. But surely such a reaction only spoke to his discomfort with a situation in which he had no control. Yet another. It had absolutely nothing to do with any enjoyment of the silver-haired man's ministrations or any desire to keen into his touch.
Still another. The niggling voice in his mind that told him that Gilbert's actions were not those of man intent on winning a wager, but on seducing him was silenced immediately. And one more inch. He was only biting his lip to keep himself from yelling something uncouth at the Prussian for his complete and utter lack of propriety, not to prevent a moan from escaping his lips. The silver-haired man's fingertips grazed his vital regions. Sweet Chopin. His mental façade of indifference dropped instantly with the abrupt realization that if he did not find a way to distract himself, and quickly, he would lose control, the wager, and his dignity in one fell swoop. He was not sure which possibility frightened him the most.
Sweet Euterpe. The Prussian's fingers were now moving as if attempting to coax a melody from a delicate instrument. The brunette's mind cast about wildly, searching for something, anything that might stay the tide of his physical reactions. Ivan. Ivan coming after him with a faucet pipe – or better yet – Natalia. Natalia existing. Being trapped in a deserted, dark room with her scratching at the door to get in, and only the ticking of a grandfather clock and the pounding of his heartbeat for company – a clock – the time limit. The five minutes had to be almost up – he glanced at his pocket watch. Fifteen seconds. Breathe in. Natalia. Hold the breath to help slow the heart's pace. Scratching at the door. Exhale. The door slowly creaking open. Breathe in. The whites of her eyes in the darkness. Hold the breath. Taking the first step into the room. Exhale.
"Your time is up," gasped the Austrian. With one hand, he dispelled Gilbert's fingers from his vital regions; with the other, he began to mercilessly tickle the silver-haired man's stomach. The brunette turned to scrutinize the Prussian's face. Gilbert's lips twitched. The thought came unbidden of those lips crashing down upon his own, caressing his neck, traveling down across his torso, and then continuing downward—he shook his head as if to expel the thought by force, and redoubled his tickling efforts. Within a few second, the albino nation had dissolved into a fit of laughter and nearly fallen off his chair.
Alfred stopped midsentence and every head in the room swiveled to stare at the Prussian. The aristocrat suppressed a grin and quickly schooled his expression into one of indignation. "Gilbert, I am appalled at your behavior. I, for one, do not think that issues that threaten the very fibers of life as we know it are a laughing matter." It was difficult to tell whether the silver-haired man was in fact blushing or whether his coloring was merely a product of his unrestrained mirth.
The American recovered from the unexpected interruption quickly and resumed his monologue as if nothing had happened. Roderich allowed himself a small grin before adopting an expression of polite interest and turning to face Alfred.
"I don't know how the hell a priss like you were able to hold your own, but it looks like I los- well, that you won. So what do I have to do?"
It was the brunette's turn to effect a predatory grin. "I have not yet decided what your penalty for losing will be. However, I can assure you that if you bother me at all during the remainder of this meeting, it will be considerably worse."
The next few hours were the most peaceful that the Austrian had experienced in years.
Roderich was making his way out the door when the Prussian caught his wrist. He whirled to face the silver-haired man, eyes blazing. "I cannot believe you have the audacity to so much as touch me after your disgraceful behavior during the meeting!"
The few nations who were still in the meeting room hurriedly collected their papers and scurried past the two men in the doorway. After a certain incident years ago that Francis and Ludwig had born witness to and the rest of the world had eventually learned about, in which Austria had simply snapped, the aristocrat was regarded as someone who could be thoroughly terrifying when angry.
Even the Prussian looked a little taken aback. "Specs, I just wanted to know if you had decided, well, you know…"
"That matter can wait." He paused, looking around to make sure no other nations were within earshot before continuing. "Would you care to explain what in God's name you were attempting to achieve during the meeting?"
"Feeling you up, of course." Gilbert deadpanned. The aristocrat blushed furiously; the silver-haired man only smirked and continued. "I know your sexual experience is kinda nonexistent, but I thought it still would've been kinda obvious—"
"Allow me to rephrase that. What the devil possessed you to do such a thing?"
The Prussian only grinned and shook his head. "Geez, Roddy, for someone who uses such big words, you can be pretty stupid sometimes. You may be a total priss, but have you looked in a mirror lately? You're gorgeous—Liz's wording, not mine," he added quickly in response to the Austrian's shocked expression. "And why do you think I grace you with my awesomeness all the time? Maybe I – well, maybe I like you."
Roderich searched the albino nation's face for any hint of sarcasm, any sign that he was going to crack into a grin and mock the brunette for being so gullible as to believe him. He found none.
"Why the devil did you not tell me sooner?"
It was, as he suspected Gilbert would soon realize, a rhetorical question. Seconds after it had left his lips, said lips had found the Prussian's. What began as a relatively chaste kiss quickly devolved into a rough battle for dominance, but neither man seemed to mind the change. When the two finally broke apart, both were quite flushed, their breathing unsteady.
"You kiss like a girl," the silver-haired man said, smirking.
"You kiss like an amateur," the brunette rejoined.
"Are you suggesting – You damn priss, I've kissed loads of people, I mean sometimes I had to fight off all the people who want to get at my awesomeness—" The rest of his sentence was cut off when a certain aristocrat's lips claimed his.
"So… this means I'm off the hook for our wager, right?"
"Absolutely not. First and foremost, it is completely unacceptable to assault someone. You are one exceedingly lucky scoundrel in that I reciprocate your feelings—if I did not, you would find yourself spending a day in excruciating pain at my bidding. As it is, I may be able to forgive you. After some penance, naturally. Tomorrow, beginning at 8 'o-clock sharp, you will clean my entire house until every surface gleams. When you have completed this task, you will accompany me to my bedchamber and do anything and everything I require of you in order to slake my lust."
Gilbert's mouth opened and shut several times, but not sound came out. The aristocrat turned on his heel and walked away, but then stopped and called over his shoulder. "Oh, and Gilbert? Do not be late. It will not do to keep me waiting."
A/N: "Le Autrichien" is French for "the Austrian." I'd love to be able to take credit for the line "As you seem intent on telling me, I have little choice in the matter," but it's actually from Pride and Prejudice. Euterpe is the Greek muse responsible for the domain of music (the literal meaning of her name is "the giver of pleasure").
You may, perhaps, be wondering what Gilbert was using as leverage to blackmail Ludwig (or maybe you weren't, but I'm going to tell you anyway) – he threatened to tell Feliciano about Ludwig's collection of pornographic materials.
Reviews or comments are my favorite are almost as awesome as Gilbert.