Oblige Me
by malheureux en amour
Summary Hungary gets stuck—alone!—with Prussia for a few minutes in the conference room while waiting for the other countries to start the meeting. Verbal abuse, kissing, and hilarity ensue. PruHun. Human names used, except on some occasions. Oneshot. (My first APH fic!)
Rated T (a pretty high T) for swearing/cursing, innuendo, and kissing.
Author's Note I used "Elizabeta" for Hungary's name, as opposed to "Elizaveta", since it is closer to "Erzsébet" (the Hungarian name for Elizabeth). Also, I used the name "Laura" for Belgium as per one of the names that Hidekaz Himaruya proposed for her name in one of his blog posts. Just to clear things up.
All right, I've kept you waiting long enough, so…
On with the show!
-malheureux en amour
Oblige Me
"Oh, come on, Elizabeta. Everyone knows that you absolutely want Gilbert. You, madam, are in love with the man!"
"Am not! I beat him to within an inch of his life whenever he even breathes the same air as I do! I am not in love with that bastard!"
"Are too. The fact that you are denying it only confirms it further…"
"Laura. Please. Don't."
"Elizabeta. Please. Do." The Belgian imitated Elizabeta, much to the Hungarian's annoyance. "Just admit it, and I might just stop annoying you."
"I am not admitting that I like Gilbert—!"
Laura laughed. "Ah, but you just did."
Elizabeta blushed, a deep red color flooding her face.
"Laura... Just... Ugh...You can be just as annoying as that bastard sometimes, you know that?"
"Well, don't blame me for noticing your highly obvious crush on him—"
"Gilbert is not my crush—!"
Suddenly, the door swung open, and in an unfortunate twist of events, a certain albino came bursting in.
"Speak of the devil." Laura said loudly. "Here comes your man."
Elizabeta slammed a palm into her face. Gilbert coming in at the worst possible moment was annoying enough. Laura just had to insert some 80's song reference, didn't she?
"Well hello ladies," Gilbert drawled in a rather—and Elizabeta will never admit to using the term—seductive voice. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Elizabeta started to say something, but Laura cut her off. "Oh, of course not, darling," the Belgian said in a sickly-sweet voice. "Do come in. I do believe I should leave—" she gave a sly look to Elizabeta "—as I have an older brother to look for. See you lovelies later at the meeting."
"Wait—Laura—Belgium—I—can I come with you? Please?" Elizabeta's green eyes pleaded, but Laura only chuckled.
"Elizabeta, darling, I think you should stay."
"But I think that—"
Laura laughed. "Oh, come now. It would be rude to leave Mr. Beilschmidt alone, hmm? Go entertain yourselves!"
Gilbert's red eyes flicked to the side to meet Elizabeta's. They both knew that last line held several unfortunate implications.
Elizabeta decided to ignore such implications, but Gilbert held his gaze.
Voyeuristic bastard, Elizabeta thought to herself.
Laura gave a wink to Elizabeta, which clearly read "Go-fuck-with-him-you'll-enjoy it". With that, she stalked out of the door.
And then the door slammed.
That left Gilbert and Elizabeta alone to themselves, much to the former's enjoyment and the latter's annoyance.
Gilbert found himself a seat, only four seats away from Elizabeta.
Shit. Now I'm alone with him.
Elizabeta moved to the far end of the conference table, distancing herself as much as possible from Gilbert, who was nonchalantly typing away on his sinister-looking black laptop.
She couldn't stop staring at him.
Now, Elizabeta always thought that Gilbert was the biggest jerk she'll ever have the misfortune to meet, but that didn't stop her from thinking that he was, admittedly, sexy as hell, in an odd, almost creepy way—platinum hair, pale skin, and, most noticeable of all, striking crimson eyes—
—eyes that were rumored to have made enemy soldiers cower in fear behind their rifles and make countless women lust for him, want him in bed—
Not this woman, Elizabeta thought. Definitely not!
But she still can't stop herself from staring. And she hated herself for it. So much she wanted to scream, but she couldn't, it was too quiet and they were alone—
So when she suddenly gave a rather loud growl of annoyance, Gilbert couldn't help but snap his head up from the laptop's screen.
Elizabeta sank her face into her hands.
"Um, what the hell's wrong with you?" Gilbert asked, a hint of irritation — or was it concern? — lacing his voice.
"N-nothing," Elizabeta said, burying her face into her hands further.
Gilbert muttered something in German, and then went back to busying himself with his typing, crimson eyes fixated at the laptop.
Elizabeta still couldn't keep her eyes away from him.
She shut her eyes tight. Get a hold of yourself. Stop staring at him. He doesn't seem to care and neither should you. Concentrate on something else. Something better...
She opened her eyes, searching the room for something—anything—to distract her from the albino.
There. That's a nice painting. It's a pretty painting with a woman in a regal-looking crimson dress. She looks so beautiful. All right. That's a beautiful, beautiful dress. Nice color, too. Red, huh.
Red. Crimson. Red.
Crimson.
His eyes are crimson—
Before she knew it, she was staring at Gilbert again.
"Dammit," she cursed out loud, slamming her fist into the table. Gilbert glanced up from his laptop, staring at the Hungarian, one eyebrow arched up in confusion.
"Well what are you looking at?" She growled.
Gilbert scoffed. "I was about to ask you the same question, psycho." He shut his laptop harshly with a loud clack. "You have been staring at me for the past 10 minutes. Don't deny it."
Elizabeta turned a deep, nasty shade of red.
Next thing she knew, Gilbert was sitting at the chair adjacent to hers.
"I was not staring at you." Elizabeta lied lamely.
"Oh come on. You were."
"I—why would I stare at you, Beilschmidt?"
Gilbert cackled wickedly. "Good question, psycho. I'd like to know why, too—but I think you and I both know the answer, ja?"
Elizabeta felt like delivering a left hook to Gilbert's jaw. "I was not staring at you, Beilschmidt. Now lay off because I would be delighted to break your face."
Gilbert laughed even louder. "Just answer the question, psycho. Why were you staring at me?"
"I thought you already know the answer."
"Well I want you to say it yourself, psycho."
"Oblige me."
0.5 seconds later and Elizabeta immediately regretted what she had just said. Gilbert was laughing so hard he was making the table shake.
"Oh, Gott, psycho," he said in between bouts of laughter, "oblige you? A-hahahaha! Psycho, this is why I like hanging around with you a lot."
"Well unfortunately for you, I believe your feelings are one-sided."
Gilbert wasn't just laughing anymore; he was hooting so hard that there were tears running down the side of his face.
"One-sided? A-hahaha! Psycho—just admit it—you like the awesome me, don't you, eh, psycho?"
"I have a name, too, Beilschmidt, you can call me that. And no, I do not like you. Now, for the fifty-seventh time, lay off."
"Like I said, Eh-lee-za-be-tah," Gilbert drawled her name into practically the next continent, "I like hanging around with you. Why should I lay off?"
"Because I don't think you would like the feeling of a fist sinking into your self-proclaimed awesome face, which I am about to deliver in 10 seconds if you don't stay the heck away from me."
"Heck? My, my, Eh-lee-za-be-tah, you've grown soft—"
"You know what, Beilschmidt? I prefer that you don't use my name, at all."
"Well what do you want me to call you? Pscyho? That again? But I guess that fits you: First you tell me to call you by your name, and then you tell me to stop. What the hell? You're just like that Belarus girl—"
"—I am not like Natalia!"
"Yes, you are, bipolar freak!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Jerk!"
"Psycho!"
"Asshole!"
"Whore!"
"Bastard!"
"Bitch!"
"Non-existent nation!"
That shocked the Prussian into silence.
"What did you just call me?" His accent started to bleed out, which made him seem angrier than he already was.
It was clear that Elizabeta had hit a soft spot, so she took advantage. "I called you a non-existent nation, now is that clear enough for your thick skull?" Elizabeta snarled, staring daggers at Gilbert.
Genuine wrath flickered across Gilbert's crimson eyes. "I am not non-existent." He said in such a calm voice it scared Elizabeta, but she pressed on.
"Invalid argument. You. don't. exist. In case you don't know, you were supposed to have died in 1947. Maybe even 1918, but I don't really care. All I know is that you are one pathetic excuse for a nation! I don't even know why they still let your lazy ass drag itself to meetings."
"That's because I still have a say in such matters; in case you haven't noticed, my brother—"
"Oh, your brother. Since we're letting him into this conversation as well, you need to tell me the truth, Beilschmidt: does your brother even love you? Because I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't!"
Gilbert's jaw suddenly dropped. He was about to say something, but he shut his mouth again and glared at Elizabeta.
Elizabeta's features softened and she suddenly realized that she went a little too far with that.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"
"Yes, you did," Gilbert said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You meant every word."
Then he rose from his seat and returned to the one far from Elizabeta's. He turned his laptop on and began starting some document for the meeting.
Shit. I've never seen him that angry before—except maybe back in the 1940's—oh my God I have to apologize to that bastard…
She walked over to Gilbert.
"Beilsch—Prussia—Gilbert. I am so, so sorry—"
"Bitch," he muttered. "You're not sorry. And don't call me by my name."
Elizabeta sighed ruefully. "I just—you know me. I can be so… blunt sometimes, you know that?"
"Glad you noticed."
"And… and… and I'm just so sorry for what I said. Will you… will you accept my apology?"
Elizabeta knew that her apology was pretty lame and useless, but it was worth a shot.
Gilbert remained silent, typing away at his laptop.
"Please, Gilbert… I'll make it up to you."
Gilbert's head turned to the side, facing Elizabeta. "Oh yeah? How?"
"I—I don't really know. But… I… I'll do anything you ask of me."
"Anything?"
"Y-yes… anything."
A sinful smile started to form around the corners of Gilbert's lips. "Well…"
Elizabeta suddenly realized just how stupid she was for offering something as good as that.
"You could always… you could always kiss me, Eh-lee-za-be-tah…"
Elizabeta cringed. She had been so stupid…
I am not kissing this bastard I am not kissing this bastard I am not kissing this bastard
Gilbert tilted his head. "Well?"
Elizabeta sighed deeply, and then collected enough courage to make a decision.
"Stand up, Beilschmidt."
Gilbert complied and stood up to face her, chuckling wickedly.
"Well I must be one lucky gu—mmph…!"
Before they knew it, Elizabeta had crashed her lips into Gilbert's, shutting him up.
He tastes like beer and chocolate.
And Elizabeta liked it, but she wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even to herself—especially not to herself.
Then she broke away from the kiss, leaving Gilbert wide-eyed in shock.
"Well… I… I guess… yeah." She stammered, blushing wildly.
Gilbert laughed, and in a very rare occurrence his laugh held no malice.
"You're so… adorable when you stammer."
Elizabeta blushed even wilder. "Shut… shut up, Beilschmidt. Since when did you use the word adorable, anyway?"
"Hey. Be thankful that I even use the word around you. Hmmph. Bet no one's called you that before."
"True, that," she said, and they both laughed.
Gilbert smiled toothily. "Well. I figure you do this every time we fight, and I might gain the capacity to forgive you."
"Why not?" Elizabeta muttered.
Then she smiled. "So… Want another round? A longer one?"
Gilbert did a double take. Elizabeta was too close, he could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo—
"Whoa. Wait up. Are you sure ab—mmph!"
Elizabeta crashed her lips into his again. "Yes… I'm sure."
Her hands went up to dishevel his platinum hair; his fell down to her waist.
She drove him to the wall. Her tongue explored his mouth, and tasted more of that sweet beer-chocolate taste he had in his mouth.
"You know… Eh-lee-za-beh-ta," Gilbert drawled breathlessly in between kisses, "it's a bit… weird… how you're… dominating… me."
"I… I know." Elizabeta replied, chuckling, then she pushed him down to the floor.
Needless to say, this put them in an awkward position, with Elizabeta on top of Gilbert, who was lying down on the floor.
"This is really weird," Elizabeta muttered.
"Well I like it." Gilbert said, smirking.
She kissed him more, deeper, her hands completely messing up Gilbert's hair. Gilbert kissed back, tasting butter and… tea?
And then she started to straddle her hips against Gilbert.
"Hey!" Gilbert yelped, suddenly breaking away from the kiss. "I thought you were only supposed to kiss me!"
"But I… Gilbert, I… I want you, Gilbert..."
Gilbert laughed, high and loud. "Ha. I just knew you wanted the awesome me!"
Elizabeta smacked him playfully on the cheek. "Shut up, Beilschmidt. I'm topping you. Off with your jacket, then."
Gilbert tore his blue military jacket off, flinging it to the side. She yanked his black necktie off, lifting Gilbert up with his elbows on the floor for support. Then she slammed her lips into his again.
After a while, Elizabeta broke away from the kiss.
"Want to… want to take this… further?" She asked, her eyes glazed over with lust and her voice laced with desire.
Gilbert eyes went wide with surprise. "Well… only if you want to…"
Elizabeta kissed him, rougher and deeper this time, biting and drawing blood from Gilbert. Her kisses trailed down his lips and then to his neck, where she bit down and left a dark bruise on his pale skin.
Gilbert gasped at the pain. "Gott," he hissed. "The hell was that for?"
"I don't know either. Just stop talking."
She shut him up with a deep kiss to the lips. Gilbert hungrily kissed back, entwining his fingers in her chestnut hair. Her orange hairclip fell down, and her tresses framed her face.
"Elizabeta," he said breathlessly, finally enunciating her name right, "hurry up."
Still kissing him, she started undoing his dark gray button-up shirt.
"Ja," he whispered. "Elizabeta—"
He suddenly pulled away.
"What's wrong?" Elizabeta asked, and then continued to smother his face with kisses.
"Elizabeta—wait. I could hear footsteps—"
"What footsteps?"
"Those footsteps."
Sure enough, twenty or more other nations could be heard walking towards the conference room.
They froze for a second, and then Elizabeta suddenly pulled away.
"Gilbert—Oh my god! The meeting! Shit! They're coming—!"
They immediately scrambled away from each other. Gilbert hurriedly buttoned his shirt and put his jacket on. He ran his hands a few times through his hair, trying his best to tidy it up. Then they went back to their respective chairs, Gilbert typing away on his laptop and Elizabeta casually jotting down pretend notes on a random notepad.
The door flung open, and the other nations came filing in to the room.
"Right, guys, meeting time!" Alfred said in his annoyingly high voice.
"No need to shout it in my ear, idiot," Romano said, tempted to punch the American's lights out.
"Whatever," Alfred said.
Everyone went to his or her seats.
"Well, it seems you two are rather early," Laura said, winking at Gilbert and Elizabeta.
"Zee early bird catches the worm, no?" Francis said with a thick accent.
Gilbert and Elizabeta laughed nervously, avoiding each other's glances.
Then Arthur noticed Gilbert's missing necktie and Elizabeta's messy hair.
"Gilbert, Elizabeta… you both look rather… unhinged…" Arthur said, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to find the right words.
Gilbert felt like sinking into his seat. "Well, uh, I—"
Elizabeta's green eyes pleaded with him. Please don't say anything.
And then it came.
"Whose black necktie and orange hairclip is on the floor?"
Author's Note Mm-hmm.
Pathetic ending is pathetic.
Anyways, I hope you liked the PrusHun pairing. Those two need more love! :3
Please review!
-malheureux en amour