And, finally. This Hetalia fic is way overdue, don't you think? Now, I love PruAus, but it's not my favourite pairing. So if this one-shot seems a little awkward, that might be one of the reasons. Expect a few one shots coming up, as I continue to work on Wonder Butler. I'm AMAZED at the response I'm getting from that. Thank you so much! ^-^ It made my heart happy!
I do not own Hetalia. I only own my plot idea, which isn't very original itself…I'm not making a profit, blah blah blah….
He was panting underneath me, finally letting his hands fall to his side in defeat. He wasn't putting up a fight anymore. I knew his resistance would crumble eventually, I just didn't think it'd take 3 hours for him to cave.
We were both sweating under our heavy overcoats. I could see the stains underneath his arms; the glisten of sweat on his forehead. God, why must he be so persistent? This could've easily been solved if he could just get that baton out of his arse and give me what I wanted all along…
But, no. Austria was Austria for a reason. And he was headstrong in everything he did. And that's why we were currently on the floor, outside in a snow storm, me on top of him, digging my knee into his chest.
He sputtered and gagged on his own spit, shutting his eyes to block out the pain. "Mein gott, Prussia. Get off of me!" He lifted his hands back up to attempt to shove me, but to no avail. I wasn't letting up. Not until he promised me he'd cancel his concert. Because I had a concert, too, and I knew all the nations would end up going to his.
And I was not pathetic. I'm Prussia, for godssakes! Look at me and my awesomeness! Damn, who WOULDN'T want to see my punk band play? Anybody in their right mind, that's who. All Austria plays is stuffy, repetitive Beethoven. What's that genre called again? Classical? God, please! Gag me now!
Obviously, I was going to win. We were through. I could see defeat in his eyes, and boy, did it taste sweet. I loved pushing this pansy around, really. Why didn't I do it more often?
"C'mon, Austria. Just admit it and I'll let you go." I cackled in return, puffing out my flushed cheeks.
I kept thinking at that moment that if he didn't say anything soon, we'd just have to go in. After all, Austria wasn't wearing gloves and he was looking a little blue…
I'm a dick, but I'm not that mean.
He drew in a breath and shakily nodded. His glasses fogged over, and I couldn't see his chocolate coloured eyes for a moment, which in a sense, frightened me. Had I gone too far? Pushed too hard? It was always hard to tell with him, because he tended to reserve his emotions.
"Fine, Gilbert. FINE!"
I laughed heartlessly. "I don't know what 'Fine' means. Elaborate."
I really was going to make him say it. No matter what.
"I'll cancel my goddamned concert if you just remove your knee from my ribcage and get your fat butt off of me, scheiße!" He was making this funny noise in the back of his throat like he was pained, but I didn't think much of it.
I'm sure my smile reached my ears. I removed my knee from his upper body, but didn't get off just yet. "And you'll come to my concert? If it's not sold out, I mean?"
He gave me this look of loathing and nodded.
I clapped my cold, gloved hands together and rolled off of him into the snow, laughing in glee.
It took him less than 5 seconds to retaliate.
I had just flopped over to look at him again when I was hit by a tightly packed snowball right in the kisser. That damn bastard…
"Hey, what's the big id-"
"I HATE YOU, PRUSSIA! I HATE YOU WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING!"
I'll never forget the way he sounded…How loud he had been. When I had wiped the snow from my face, when I saw him…I swear, I'll never forget it.
He was standing, but wavering. He wasn't wearing his glasses anymore. And he was shaking so violently, I wondered if he might get sick right there. His breathing was labored and hard; quick little pants. Something was wrong…He was so cold…
"Why do you have to do this, huh?! Why do you have to PUSH ME SO FAR! Dummekopf! I…I…" He tried to raise a fist, curl his fingers together, but he was so frozen, he couldn't. He looked down at his hands as if they had betrayed him, then let out a tormented sob. No doubt in my mind that he was thinking about how he was going to play the piano with his hands like this.
And that was it, I had lost him. He let out a mangled, frustrated scream, and kicked snow into my face before sprinting out of the clearing. I didn't even bother getting up for a moment because I didn't have it in me to chase after him. What had just happened? What had I done? He made it seem that what I had done was unforgiveable…And, what had I gained? He probably wasn't even going to come tomorrow…
After a few moments alone, when I knew he was long gone, I got up and stood over to the spot where I had pushed him down. Our footprints looked like dance steps on a floor in the snow, which I found comical. I could relive all the steps we took to get to this secluded spot behind his house. I had chased him. Wasn't I always doing that, though? Nothing new.
His glasses. They were sitting in the blanket of white snow. Evidently, they had fallen off. I leaned down and picked them up, not even bothering with looking before shoving them in my coat pocket. I could use them as a peace offering, I suppose. Once this all smoothed over. It wasn't like this was the first time I had ever done something stupid to him. He always seemed to forgive me sooner or later.
I took the trek back through the woods, hoping he had found his way. Because even though I had wrestled him for 3 hours while it was snowing outside, I didn't want him to get lost anymore. I just…wanted him to get warm and stuff…because…I don't know why, exactly…
Sooner or later, I'd find my own way back. My house wasn't far from his, anyways. And I could go snuggle up in my big, king-sized bed and rock out to the Ramones and finally fall asleep worry free…
The night of Prussia's concert
We were sitting on the stage, me and my band, passing an unlabeled bottle back and forth between us. I didn't even really know these people, but that didn't mean I couldn't get drunk with them. We had our legs dangling off of the edge of the stage as we laughed about stupid things that we had come up with. A few people had already come into the bar, but no one that I had invited. We had 30 minutes till show time.
I was garbed in tight, low riding jeans with a studded belt to hold them up. Seeming as it was still cold, I wore a red sweat shirt over my band tee, but I'm sure that once we got jamming, that'd come off soon. I couldn't help it; I was a little giddy. This was my first time performing, after all…
We actually hadn't written many songs together…As a group, I mean. Sure, we'd get a few chorus lines, but the rest was all improv. I didn't know shit about music.
I wrote this one song called I Wanna Be Your Metronome, and I had kind of dedicated it to Austria in my mind. Before he got all mad at me and stuff. Now, I thought I might get up on stage and change the words to I Wanna Break Your Cello or something like that.
Time passed quickly, and soon, we were ushered back stage where we were instructed to grab instruments and get ready. God, I prayed this wasn't going to be a bust. I prayed that somebody I knew was going to be in that crowd…that massive crowd…And all would be awesome and I'd have something to brag about.
I took center stage and puffed out my chest, slinging my guitar strap over my shoulder.
And the lights went down and I heard thunderous clapping. And before I knew it…
…It was over.
After Prussia's concert
The guy's hand gone off to shower and hit the bar, but I had declined their invite. I had 'things to do', which, I did. I was going to pay a certain musician a visit before the night was through, because he hadn't shown up like he promised.
We had such a nice turn out. A few of the nations had shown up, but the rest of the crowd consisted of my band mates' friends. All I cared about was Austria, though. Nothing mattered except him, it seemed.
I changed into comfy jeans and sprinted out to the parking lot, to my car. It was well over midnight, but I knew the way to his house by heart. I could've gone without headlights, if I had to.
I was driving and singing my song under my breath. Had I ever showed him? Or, better yet, played it for him? I must've, because I distinctly remembered him saying something degrading about my taste in music. And, that made me smile in the dark to myself, because it was so….typical of him. He was such a predictable person, it amazed me.
And before I knew it, I was there, parking in his big drive way. I pulled the keys out of the ignition and flipped on the light by the mirror to look at myself. I hadn't bothered taking off the stage makeup, and it was a little smeared. I licked my fingertips and ran them underneath my eye, making it a tad bit better. Oh well; Austria wouldn't care, I knew. He might not even let me in, now that I think of it.
Right before I got out, I remembered his glasses. I had put them in the glove compartment for a reason, to give them back. I reached over and quickly tucked them into my jacket pocket before sliding out of the seat.
Damn, was it cold. Thank god we hadn't fought at a late hour like this, yesterday. We would've both froze out there.
I rapped on the door loudly, hoping he could hear me. His house was pretty big, and the old fashioned bugger didn't want to install a doorbell system for some ungodly reason.
The door opened a few minutes later to show a very unhappy Austrian.
"What are YOU doing here, Gilbert?" He spat. But…he didn't sound like himself. His sounded nasally and congested. No doubt in my mind that he had caught a cold. I bit my lip back and tried not to feel guilty.
"You didn't come to my concert. You missed an awesome show, you know."
He laughed and went to close the door, rolling his eyes.
I stuck my foot out so he couldn't and pushed into the door frame. "You promised you would come."
"I didn't promise you anything of the sort! I gave you what you wanted, which was for me to cancel my concert. That was the deal." He looked lethal and ready to kill. Without his glasses, he looked so much more unfriendly.
"But, I wanted you there. That's why I wanted you to cancel."
"Quit the charades, Gilbert. You wanted me to cancel because you knew everyone would rather hear ME play than you and your little boy band."
"We aren't a boy band, we're an indie-punk-"
"Save it for someone who cares, alright?" He grumbled in German and kicked at my foot. "And go away. I'm not feeling well."
"Austria!" Okay, now I was getting irritated. "What's your problem, man? You're such a little school-girl, holding grudges like this."
"Oh, and like you're not guilty of that, too? Prussia, get out! I'm not going to tell you again. I don't want to see you around my house for a while, okay? I'm sick and bedridden and I'm fed up with your childish games."
"Childish? Who are you calling childish?"
But he didn't respond. Because for that moment when he was considering what to say, he broke into a fit of coughs and retreated from the door. That gave me the perfect chance to push in.
I slammed the door behind me and took off my hat. "Goddamn, Roderich. You really…are sick."
He coughed into his elbow and rolled his eyes. "Why would I….kid about….something like that?" He wheezed.
I leaned in close to him and took him by the hand. "Let's get you to bed." What was he expecting, an apology?
When my warm hand touched his cold one, I wanted to pull away. His fingers…they were all blue still. Oh my god, what had I done?
Austria saw me looking, and his eyes filled with tears. "They've been that way since yesterday…"
"You weren't wearing gloves when we went…out…"
He brushed back his hair with his other hand and drew in closer to me for warmth. "I didn't really get a chance to properly clothe myself, now did I?"
He hadn't. I had chased him out into the cold, barely giving him enough time to throw on his coat.
I gripped his hand tighter and gave him a sad look. I wanted him to know I was sorry without actually having to say it…Because I'm not one for bullshit like that.
I held him steady as I walked him up the stairwell and down a corridor in the direction of his room. But, on the way, he stopped me forcefully and refused to go any farther.
"What is it? Don't you want to go back to bed?"
He just shook his head and gripped my hand tighter. "Take me to my parlor. The one with the piano in it."
Oh no. He wanted to play. But with his hands all…frostbitten like that, I really didn't think he could. Who was I to determine that, though? Hadn't I already said that Roderich was the most persistent, bull-headed man I knew?
I led him there and held the door for him carefully, letting him attempt to run to his beloved piano. He literally collapsed on top of the seat and reached out with swollen hands to touch the keys. I never really realized how in love he was with music until now; this had to be like a drug for him. I took a step back against the wall and let him have his way with the piano for a moment.
He pulled himself up into a sitting position and swiftly grabbed some complicated looking sheet music from a stand at his side. With grace, he poised his fingers and pressed down, making and loud note fill the otherwise empty room. And he stopped there and let it ring.
After a moment, he regained his composure and played again, this time, a few measures into the piece. He could do it still, to both of our relief.
He was a true musician, and I could never tell him how beautiful it sounded, even to me. I enjoyed it immensely when he did play for me, I just never wanted him to know…
I could tell he was tired, so I came to his side and rested my hand on his shoulder. "We can play tomorrow. I think you need some rest."
He looked up at me with wild eyes and tugged at the hem of my sweater. "Prussia…Prussia, please…" And that made me think back to when he begged me to stop in the clearing. And I felt ill all over again.
I took a seat next to him. If this is how he wanted to spend his evening, then so be it. I was too awake from the concert to go to bed myself, so it didn't really matter.
He played for a good 30 minutes into the night, with each measure, getting more passionate. I don't think he loves anything more than that grand piano, let alone anyone. And to see him so entertained with something so simple is really inspiring.
But all good things come to an end, and soon, he had to stop. He leaned against me for support and let his hands fall to his side in curled up balls, breathing quietly to himself. Somehow, I found myself holding him after a while, in a tight embrace. Because that's what felt most natural, really.
It only took an exchange of glances between the two of us, and his lips were on mine. It started out gentle and sweet, but after a few moments, our tongues were wrestling and I was getting too hot for my coat.
"R-Roderich…" I muttered, tripping over myself as my hands traveled to the back of his neck.
We had kissed before, believe it or not. Much more passionately than this. I remember, one time, we even ended up on West's futon back in the day, pushing each other into the sheets. But that hadn't happened in a while; Austria had changed his feelings towards me, and we became rivals. But this…this was…
"I need warmth, Prussia. I'm so cold still. Please."
And I flew. Scooping him up in my arms, I held him close to my chest so he could feel that warmth, get rid of that cold. I just wanted to comfort him forever and ever, because he deserved that and I didn't want anybody else to do the honors.
"Shh, Austria. I'll take you to bed, we'll be fine."
"Mhmm, that sounds amazing right about now…" I had to agree, although I was feeling a little too hot myself.
We were out of the room in a matter of moments, gliding down the hall to his bedchamber. He had a four poster bed still, all Victorian and classy, unlike my place. I had a mattress sitting on a box spring. Nothing compared to the luxuries of Austria's house.
I rested him down on the heavy, thick covers, and took to kissing him again all over. I let my lips travel around and down his neck, tongue flicking out to his collarbone. God, how I wanted to ravish this body. Oh, how I wanted to make up for the horrible things I had done to him.
"Take off your coat. Aren't you hot?" He asked in a husky voice, reaching out to take it off for me. He didn't have to tell me twice.
When my coat hit the floor, something went crunch, and we both stopped. I looked down to it and wondered if I should pull away to see what had broken…Austria looked curious too, so I don't think he would've minded.
I searched my pockets and pulled out his glasses, still in-tact. I smiled wickedly and held them up to him. "You left these in the snow yesterday."
"I've been lost without them. How else am I supposed to see notes, hmmm?" He grinned, reaching out to take them back. I shooed his hands away.
Gently, I leaned down and pecked at his temple. "Allow me." I slid them on for him, carefully pushing them up his nose.
You'd think his eyes would shine brighter when he wasn't wearing the cursed things. But, really, I beg to differ. I don' think he had ever looked handsomer than he did now, wanting and ready underneath me. Yes, I was on top, like yesterday, but the atmosphere between us was drastically different. No longer did I feel like he hated me. No, he was content. And although we had plenty of things to be mad at each other over, I couldn't feel any of that now.