General Note: I'm only going to reformat my fics so much when this site is the one at fault. So if the formatting is weird, please check out my profile for more info. Thank you.

A/N: Originally this was just posted to my DW/LJ (since I could embed images there), but I've since managed a work around for urls, so I figured I'd post it here, because, hey, why not? (Truth be told, it's because I contest that there can never be enough angsty AusHun, and think Hungary needs to get out of Central Europe more often. XD) Anyway, so yes, this little ficbit was inspired by a fanart, which can be seen (with a link to the original pixiv source) here:

http : (slash slash) konstantya . dreamwidth . org (slash) 38996 . html

(Obviously you'll have to remove the spaces and put in actual slashes and all that good stuff.)

Also, while it doesn't exactly follow the same timeline/universe as the Edelweiss Arc (for anyone who's familiar with it), I did draw pretty heavily from those characterizations of Hungary and Austria, particularly in regards to how their marriage went down. Also also, originally this was untitled; I only threw in a title here because FFN makes you, and naming it "Untitled" seemed a bit silly. Anyway.

Obligatory (but ultimately pointless) CYA: I don't own it.

(Time period: Somewhere in the early- to mid-1920s.)

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Unexpected

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She had expected to run into France. She hadn't relished the thought, but she had expected it. Austria on the other hand…

The worst part was, he wasn't even looking at her. He was tucked away in the corner of the café, sipping a coffee and reading a newspaper, and she'd been witness to that cool, calm expression enough times to recognize it as the snub it actually was.

"Ah, yes," France said, following her eyes. "I am not surprised he is here, considering the artistic boom, but he is so very serious and…" He waved his hand, trying to find the word for it, and finally settled on, "Germanic. But," he continued with a shrug and a light sigh, "what is one to do?"

She had divorced him. But she supposed that wasn't really an option for France.

He hadn't even glanced at her. Four-hundred years together, fifty as husband and wife, and, granted, they had hardly parted on the best of terms, but to completely ignore her like that… Hell, even an angry glare would have been preferable. At least that would have been an acknowledgement of her person.

"Ah, do not look so down, Mademoiselle Hongrie," France opined, taking her hand. "I was going to ask if you would care to dine with me this evening. After all, we are no longer enemies, oui?" He smiled slyly, seductively, his blue eyes dark and warm, and by all means, she should have slapped his hand away and declined. But her current state—free and single—made her want to be reckless and clumsy. It was what had brought her to Paris in the first place—and from there she would go to London, then New York, and maybe even Chicago. And maybe she'd find a different man in every city, and have a short-lived, beautiful, distracting affair with each of them. That was what all the wild, improper young women were doing these days, weren't they? And after all, she was so sick of being proper, so sick of courts and etiquette, and the sooner she got these uncomfortable underthings off, the better, and so it was with a bright, expectant smile that she turned back to France.

"Oui," she said, loudly enough to be heard across the room, taking care to make her French as perfect and as unaccented as possible, a deliberate contrast to the way she'd always spoke German, "I'd love to."

.

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A/N: So yeah, just a little thing. I had a bit of a Star Trek stint I had to get out of my system, but now that that seems to be winding down, I'm hoping to get back to writing some Hetalia stuff. I do miss it.

The clothing featured in the pic is probably a bit more modern than the 1920s, but the AusHun dynamic just screamed post-divorce to me, so I ran with it.

Anyway, thanks for reading!