"A smile confuses an approaching frown." — Unknown
"… But hugs work just as well." — The Author

The gray of the pavement matched the skies, which, funnily enough, suited the Austrian just fine. A gloomy color matched a gloomy day which matched his gloomy (if not downright horrid) mood. The weather was unpleasant, it could be said that the dark-haired man was sensitive to its tellings, with the stormy skies and low clouds, heavy with pent-up rain effectively matching his pent-up irritation and anger. Roderich fancied himself a gentleman, and gentleman did not snap at others.

Not their orchestra's, even when they gave him an earache. Not their friends (if they could be called that), even when one red-eyed man in particular ate him out of house and home and… somehow, garden. Not even himself to snap out of this stupid, silly little phase of depression and anger and irritation.

A sigh escaped him, harsh and forced, as a vein threatened to pop in his head. If only there were such things as portable piano's, then he could just plop down and play until everything he wanted yet couldn't or wouldn't say would be released and he could be happy.

Even if his expression of happiness wasn't considered so by others (namely, the world).

So, instead, all Roderich Edelstein could hope for was to get home in one piece, hopefully still dry, and then he could release his pent-up frustrations. Turning a wary eye to the heavens, he sped up his walk. The purple umbrella that would've normally accompanied him had been left behind at home, and now he was in danger of becoming victim to the soon-to-come downpour.

It might have worked, too, if he was not caught off guard by a certain American.

"Roddy!" He cooed in a voice far too young and upbeat for the weather. Purple irises shot up to the American, a cold and almost harsh (as well as undeserving glare) meeting blue eyes.

"I told you to stop calling me that," he snapped, voice as harsh as the weather and the soon-to-come rain, he reminded himself. At this moment, the Austrian was wound tightly, ready to snap at any moment, already tired from much wear that day, like an old violin string. In no time at all, he would start having a fit, and he did not want to have one in the middle of a street, regardless of how empty it was.

Alfred F. Jones, however, was not blessed with such sense as to notice this, or perhaps he was just dense enough to ignore it. Either would make perfect sense, really. So instead of doing what even Gilbert might have done (might, for Gilbert, whilst not as dense as the American, was not too bright himself in the Austrian's opinion), back away, he instead took the reluctant man into a tight hug, "That's not a nice way to greet people, Roddy!"

Eyes wide and cheeks slowly gaining an unwanted pink tinge, he shoved away the blonde, "I said," he huffed, dusting away imaginary particles from his clothes, "Not to call me that!" This man… oh, this man… the sorts of things he did made no sense! Well… he was raised by Arthur…

In response, Alfred only grinned, "I know," his voice had a sing-song lilt to it, "But Roderich is such a long name," he pouted, taking on an almost whiny tone, "What if I call you 'Rod'? Or, or, or… um…" he trailed off in thought, trying to think of other ways to butcher his name before Roderich had the good sense to cut him off.

"My name is Roderich. And I'd prefer it if you didn't butcher my name to make a pet name for me for your own convenience, thank you," he hissed, voice laced with venom and irritation, but not nearly as heated as before. The American had an innate talent for working him up from one anger to another, making him forget one, which made him less angry, but in the end, it always ended the same.

With the blonde out in the streets, effectively kicked out of the Austrian's home. With said blonde already in the streets, Roderich wondered what he would have to do now. Shove a hamburger into the American's mouth to shut him up and shove him in some store?

… It would have to do.

But while he devised a plan to rid himself of the American for, hopefully, weeks, Alfred's mind was working on a plan to plant himself firmly besides the Austrian for weeks. (Or however long it would be…)

Chuckling, Alfred nodded, "Fine, fine, Roderich," he put a teasing emphasis on his name that made the addressed man glare at him. He found a sort of amusement in the uptight Austrian. It was almost like talking to Arthur, only with dark hair, an unusual piece of hair and a mole, among other differences. "Anyway, what're you doing tonight?" He asked with a curious stare, blue eyes large and questioning.

It was a peculiar question, strange enough to distract the Austrian from his search for a burger stand to consider why in the world the American would care to know what he was going to be doing for the evening. He hadn't even thought they were friends, he'd always considered them unwilling acquaintances, or that was his opinion of the relationship.

"I don't know," he admitted, smooth and easily masking his unease. You only make the mistake of saying "Nothing" to Ivan once in your lifetime, "Probably stay at home, eat dinner, and relax afterward before turning in for the night," he left out the part about playing angry piano solo's as soon as he got to the stool, "Why do you want to know, Alfred?"

The American shrugged his broad shoulders a little, eyes looking toward the ground, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Oh, you know, just wanted to know if maybe… you wanted to have dinner or something."

If the possibility of someone's brain breaking from the attempt to comprehend something, Roderich's would've in that moment… "What?" The Austrian couldn't help blurting it out like that, after all, was Alfred suggesting… that they… that they… go out on a date? No possible way! He barely knew the man! He hadn't even known they were friends until he hugged him out of nowhere! It was inconceivable, he had never once indicated any sort of interest and had he, he would've been more straightforward in steadfastly denying him! W-what… the world had gone mad.

Wait, no, that was wrong, the world was already mad, everyone he knew proved that. So, in that case, it had become madder.

All he got was a grin, dumbfounding him even more, that grin, it was… sheepish? Oh, yes, the world was at its maddest state yet… However, it would be quite obvious as to why he was looking so… shy. His nerves weren't eased by the Austrian's outbreak, certainly, and that was, of course, not his intention to make it easier for him to be asked out. It wasn't even that absurd, the American thought. There were stranger couples! Gilbert dating Norge was bad enough, but when Ludwig and Tino started dating and Francis announced he was dating Berwald, and not to mention everyone knowing that something was going on between Yekaterina and Gupta! So… it wasn't really impossible…

Just strange.

And nowadays, strange was pretty normal.

"I asked if you wanted to go have dinner… you know… with me?" He repeated with a coy smile, eyes glancing up at him in an almost sheepish manner. Boyish, innocent, more like a puppy or child then someone asking for a date…

Roderich stared at him, mouth slightly agape, what could he say to that? He was never good at rejections unless they were to Gilbert or someone else similar, and certainly not in these situations. A-and… he was… serious, wasn't he? Mein Gott, he was serious…

For once, Roderich had to agree with Gilbert, grudgingly, inwardly, so that the annoying man would never know, that he had to grow a backbone. And soon.