Title: Somebody
Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Rating: T
Warnings: Not beta'd. Use of human names. Mild language and mild suggestive themes
Characters: Roderich Edelstein (Austria), Elizabeta Hedevary (Hungary), Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany), Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia), Feliks (Poland), Alice (Belgium), Francis Bonnefoy (France), Feliciano and Romano Vargas (South and North Italy), mentions of Swiss and Lietchenstein and Toris (Lithuania)
A/N: Originally based on the song "Somebody" by Reba McEntire . . . it went from there and ended completely kinda different from how I thought it would. But I am still very very pleased with it. Happy (belated;;) birthday, LePetite~!
Silver bells tinkled over the door of the local diner, attracted the attention of the waitress on duty. The man who entered sat at the bar and the brown-haired waitress stepped up to him as he studied the menu.
"Good morning, sir. My name's Elizabeta and I'll be your server. Can I get your anything to drink while you choose?"
The man looks up from his menu to reveal the most shocking eyes the waitress has ever seen. Beautiful violet orbs view her from behind wire spectacles. "I'll have a cup of coffee, please."
"Coming right up!" She fetched a mug and poured steaming black liquid into its depths, then sets it in front of him. He thanks her, wraps long fingers around the handle and takes a sip.
"Have you decided what you'll order?" Elizabeta asked, as she saw that his menu was closed and set on the counter in front of him.
The brunette man nodded. "I have. I wish to have the ham and cheese crêpes."
"Alright, and do you want hash browns and sausage with that?"
"Yes please."
"Sure thing." The waitress tore the order off her book and turned around to hand it to the chefs in the kitchen. "Francis, you'll like this order! Ham and cheese crêpes with hash browns and sausage!"
The blonde chef grinned and said, "Of course, mon cher! Coming right up!" before disappearing into the depths of the kitchen. Elizabeta returned to her duties, taking food to tables, filling coffee mugs and fetching silverware. She was just returning to her spot behind the counter when Francis slid a plate of crêpes, sausage, and hash browns over the stainless-steel back counter.
The Hungarian took the plate and placed it gently in front of the mysterious brunette man. "Here you are, sir. Ham and cheese crêpes, sausage, and hash browns. Do you need anything else?"
Violet eye glanced up at her and slender fingers folded the newspaper he was reading. "Some more coffee would be lovely if you don't mind."
"Of course not." Elizabeta fetched the pot of coffee and refilled his cup. The man thanked her and took a sip before beginning to eat. The waitress was not sure if she had seen anyone let alone any man, eat so daintily before.
Time passed all too quickly before the man had cleaned his plate and was asking for his cheque. Elizabeta quickly fetched it and when she returned the brunette had already retrieved a credit card from his wallet. He handed her the plastic square after glancing at the bill and the waitress quickly charged him for his meal and brought back his card with a receipt.
The man accepted his card and the receipt from her, signing the slip of paper after tucking his card and the half meant for him back into his wallet. He pulled a bill from seemingly thin air and handed it to her with a word of thanks before turning and leaving the diner.
"Who was the hottie?" asked one of Elizabeta's fellow servers, the part-time fashion student and flamboyantly gay Feliks.
It was only then did the Hungarian realize she had never gotten the man's name. As she stared down at the twenty dollar bill in his hand she murmured, "I don't know . . ."
Over the next few days, Elizabeta began to glean information about the chocolate-haired man. It was not hard, considering he visited the diner almost every morning and sat in the same seat at the counter each time. His name was Roderich Edelstein; after she inquired about his soft accent, he informed her that he was an immigrant from Austria. About a month after they met, a friendship of sorts was formed, and Roderich began to tell her more information about himself.
Elizabeta's learned that the Austrian was very frugal, and ate at the diner every morning only because his work paid for it. He could speak German and shared a small house with two friends in the suburbs. He carpooled with another man he worked with and enjoyed cake. However, the fact the waitress most important in her eyes was that the brunette had a passion for music, especially piano.
When she wasn't busy bussing tables or taking orders, Elizabeta was perfectly content to lean on the counter and listen to the Austrian talk about music. More often then not, they discussed the newest issues reported in the morning paper. They had similar political views and opinions on the way the country was run.
Christmas time rolled around, and the two exchanged gifts. The Hungarian waitress gave him a small gift card to the local bookstore; she received from him a small, flat, and neatly wrapped square. Elizabeta slipped what she assumed to be a CD into her apron pocket with a word of thanks as she took his order—not that it had changed. He always ordered ham and cheese crepes with hash browns and sausage. Recently, Francis had taken to slipping freshly baked rolls or other pastries onto Roderich's plate, free of charge.
The waitress paid no mind to the package in her apron and had rather forgotten about it until she returned to her apartment. It was only when she flopped down on her bed and felt the hard corner pressing into her thigh that she remember the gift Roderich had given to her. Elizabeta quickly sat up and pulled the package from her work apron. It was wrapped neatly in navy blue paper, her name penned in a beautiful hand in the top right corner. The woman carefully slit the packing tape with a fingernail and unfolded the paper, setting it aside on her bed spread as she inspected the case.
It wasn't a commercial CD, the Hungarian could tell that. There was no front or back cover, just two slips of paper where the booklet ought to be. One had a neatly penned list of what appeared to be songs upon it while the other appeared to be a note. Elizabeta carefully opened the folded paper and read the note inside.
"Elizabeta,
I hope this gift finds you in good spirits and fair health. You expressed interest in Hungarian piano music during several of our morning chats, so I took the liberty of obtaining some from my extensive collection. I have also included several songs of my own composition, as you also expressed interest in those as well. The disc is double sided and will play in any standard CD or DVD slot.
Have a very Happy Christmas,
Roderich Edelstein."
The waitress found herself smiling as she read the note. Roderich really was quite the gentleman at times, she thought as she carefully set the note and CD aside. She stood and retrieved her laptop from the table, then returned and popped the CD into the computer. She minimized the MSN window in which Feliks has desperately tried to contact her for advice on an outfit for the date he was going on tonight. Elizabeta knew Feliks knew that his Lithuanian boyfriend would not care what the Pole wore, so the blonde waitress felt no pressing need to respond.
iTunes popped up on her browser and the Hungarian clicked on the CD icon, finding that she had insert the CD to read on the side that contained Roderich's own music. She clicked 'play' and stood to start cooking dinner. The sound of soft piano music wafted from the speakers of her laptop as reached into her refrigerator for a container of leftovers.
Each song that played was different, but each had a similar quality. Every song recreated every day songs, such as the melody that had recreated of the city. There was a small section which the waitress figured to be covers of several popular songs, as she recognized the melodies. However, the last song that played puzzled Elizabeta.
The music was light and happy, occasionally being punctuated with a small clang of lower notes. Behind all that, there was a murmur of something else; a melody that flowed with each other and chased itself in circles. For some reason, this song was familiar, so very familiar, but the Hungarian knew she had never heard it before. Intrigued, she checked the list of songs that had accompanied the CD. There were eighteen tracks listed for Roderich's side of the CD. When she checked to see the track number, it was nineteen.
"Verdammt!" The harsh German startled the waitress, causing her to choke slightly on her stew and startle her from her puzzling. "Get out, Beilschmidt! Out!"
"Kesesesesese!" There was the sound of a slamming door and faint arguing in German. Then silence. A click signified the computer having finishing ripping the music and spitting the CD out.
Elizabeta stared at the computer, almost in a state of shock. That had been Roderich's voice; the always well mannered, quiet, polite Roderich. She wasn't sure what to make of the angry shouting she had heard. Her brow knitted and she plucked the disc from the slot and stared at it. It was obvious to her that she probably wasn't supposed to have heard that. . . so why was it on the CD?
The waitress decided that she would ask Roderich about it the next morning.
However, Roderich did not come in the next morning. Or the next. Or the morning after that. In fact, he did not return until after the New Year dawned. Elizabeta spent New Years Eve at her apartment with her girl friends, trying not to think about where Roderich and his mysterious disappearance. When the waitress returned to work, she tried her hardest not to think about him, but damn if she couldn't get the Austrian off her mind.
Gradually, she fell back into the routine she had before Roderich starting coming to the diner. Waking up, getting dressed, walking the two blocks to the diner, signing in and talking with Feliks and Alice until the customers came. Seating the customers, taking their orders, giving the orders to Francis, taking the finished food to the tables, getting the check, taking the bill to the register, ringing them up, bringing it back, waiting for them to leave, clearing the table of residual dishes and taking them back to get cleaned. Rinse, wash, repeat.
One morning, the bells rang over the shop door and Elizabeta sighed. More customers. She was just about to get off and go home. "Like, oh my god!" she heard Feliks exclaim. "Look what the cat dragged in! Lizzy, get out here! Your fave customer finally decided to grace us with his presence and pretty face!"
The Hungarian felt her stomach lurch and hope blossom in her chest. She hurried from the back, silently thanking whatever God there was that the diner was mostly empty. Rounding the corner, she sighed in relief to see Roderich standing next to the entrance, looking rather embarrassed. Not thinking, Elizabeta quickened her pace and all but threw her arms around the Austrian in a crushing hug.
"Roderich! Oh my god, where were you? All of us were worried!"
"You were worried, "Feliks corrected before swearing colorfully in Polish, Elizabeta having stamped on his foot. "These are brand new shoes, Lizzy!"
"Deal with it," the Hungarian snarled before turning to face the brunette once more. "Where were you?"
"I . . . ah . . . returned to my homeland for the holidays," he replied a bit sheepishly. "I though I told you I would be leaving . . . apparently I did not. I apologize."
"Well, you're here now!" the waitress exclaimed happily, forgetting completely that her all-night shift had ended five minutes ago. "Sit down and I'll get Francis started on your usual!"
Roderich took his customary seat at the counter as Elizabeta called back the order to Francis, who winked cheekily and nodded. The blonde waitress filled a cup with coffee and placed it in front of her favorite customer. The Austrian had already pulled the morning newspaper from his briefcase and was skimming the front page. He thanked her quietly for the coffee and took a sip without looking up from his paper.
Just like usual, as if nothing had changed.
Elizabeta leaned on the counter with a sigh, glad Roderich was her only customer for the moment. The topic of the mysterious song nagged in the back of her head as she said, "Thank you for the CD."
His violet eyes glanced up from his paper. "You're very welcome. Did you enjoy it?"
She nodded. "I did. Your music is very beautiful."
The brunette's lips twitched into a small smirk. "Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. If you don't mind me asking, which one was your favorite?"
"'Winter in the City,'" she replied primly. "It sounded exactly like the park. How did you do that?"
"Years of practice," Roderich replied. "Anything can be reproduced with music if you know how."
"I see." Silence blossomed between them. Finally, Elizabeta opened her mouth to ask about the strange track, only to be interrupted by Francis calling out that Roderich's order was done. Elizabeta fetched the plate, which had two rolls and another crepe added, and set in down in front of the Austrian. "D...Do you want more coffee, Roderich?"
"That would be lovely. Thank you."
"No problem." The waitress fetch another mug of steaming coffee and as she set in down in front of Roderich, a customer came through the front door. Elizabeta straightened, intent to seat them, but Feliks got to them first. The Hungarian sighed and leaned back against the counter, watching Roderich eat. The silence was almost unbearable.
"So, how was your holiday?"
Elizabeta started at his quiet question. "My holiday? W-Well . . . I worked, mostly. I spent Christmas with Feliks, his boyfriend, Alice, and a couple of my friends . . . The girls came over on New Years and we had a small party, but that's it. What about you?"
"My holiday was fine," Roderich replied. "It was nice to see my mother and father again. The Austrian landscape is extremely beautiful in the winter."
"I'm glad you had a good time."
"Mmm."
Elizabeta stifled a yawn, remembering her shift was technically over. Roderich received a call on his phone which prompted him to very quickly pay and leave. The Hungarian was disappointed she was not able to ask about the strange track on the CD. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned again, realizing how tired she was. A hand on her shoulder startled her and she turned to look into the blue eyes of the establishment's owner and head cook.
"You like him, don't you, chérie?"
"F-Francis!" The Frenchmen repeated his question and to her intense embarrassment, Elizabeta realized she was blushing. "W-What? N-No, I—"
"Do not lie to me, Eliza. I can tell l'amourwhen I see it~!"
"I—I don't love him!" the waitress hissed, looking around for spying Poles. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Francis sighed and shook his head. "Do not kid yourself, mon cher. You are enchanted by him."
"I am not!"
"You were like, totally depressed when he didn't come," Feliks cut into their conversation. Elizabeta hadn't seen him show up. "You've been totally worried about him and you always're smiling whenever you see him come in. You're like, totally smitten."
The Hungarian flushed, knowing they were right. "S-So what if I do like Roderich? Why do you two care?"
"No reason!" the two blondes chorused in unison.
Elizabeta's emerald eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'm going home."
"See you tomorrow~!"
"Bye, Lizzy!"
The Hungarian grabbed her coat and stormed from the diner, heart full of turmoil.
When Roderich came in the next morning, Elizabeta already had his food ready for him. When he questioned her on it, she merely said, "I know what you like." He thanked her and sat down to eat. Soon, this too became a daily activity. Elizabeta couldn't count the times she tried to ask about the CD track. But each time she tried, she just could not ask.
A week before Valentine's Day, the Austrian came into the diner holding a white envelope. Elizabeta was just coming around the corner, arms laden with dishes, and she narrowly avoided crashed into him. His arm steadied her and a flush crossed her cheeks.
"T-Thank you, Roderich . . . your breakfast is on the counter. I'll be there in a sec." He nodded his understanding and the waitressed hurried take the dishes into the back. She dumped them into the sink and bolted back to the counter where Roderich was sitting.
"S-Sorry about earlier," she stuttered, running a hand over her pulled back hair. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"It is not a problem." His long fingers picked apart a fresh roll and the soft bread disappeared between pale lips. The waitress pushed dirty thoughts of that pale flesh sucking her neck aside and excused herself to get the dishes from another table. When she had returned, the Austrian was finished and waiting for her.
"Elizabeta," he started, catching her attention with his soft voice. "I was wondering if, in a couple of days time, you would like to accompany me to a concert and perhaps dinner?"
Her heart skipped a beat. Was he asking her out? "S-Sure. I'd love to," she heard herself saying.
"Wonderful! The concert is on the fourteenth. If you could just tell me your address, I'll pick you up at eight."
It only dawned to the Hungarian after he left that Roderich had asked her out on Valentine's Day.
Their relationship slowly blossomed.
At first the dates were strictly as friends, or so both parties claimed. But soon their hands found each other as they walked and Roderich pressed a gentle kiss to the Hungarian's forehead on the date signifying the three month "anniversary" of when he'd first asked her to accompany him to the concert. Elizabeta had floated for days.
.
.
.
The kisses became more frequent. Soon they were pressed directly to her mouth and the waitress had no qualms about forgetting the world and pressing her lips back to his.
.
.
.
She met his housemates, Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt. Two brothers from Germany. The albino Gilbert, even though being several years older than Ludwig, acting like a five year old. She now knew who had interrupted the recording. The silver-haired man had teased Roderich when he had first introduced Elizabeta as his girlfriend, while Ludwig had simply nodded and said that it was a pleasure to meet her. The Hungarian decided she liked Ludwig, but she wasn't so sure about his older brother.
.
.
.
Elizabeta learned that Roderich and her both knew the Zwingli siblings, much to her surprise. The world really was small.
.
.
.
On her birthday, he took her out to dinner and slipped another CD into her purse. She found it that night and played the single song recorded. She realized it was the same as the mysterious track that had been attached to that first CD. The next morning she asked what the inspiration was and he replied, "This diner and you . . . but mostly you." He received a passionate kiss in response.
.
.
.
At the wedding of Toris and Feliks, they danced. Their breath left their mouths as puffs as they slow danced under a chilly December sky. The small patio they had absconded to was well light and shoveled clean of snow, despite its lack of use. Music from the reception made its way through the sliding glass door that separated the patio from the inside world, and it was to those tunes the couple swayed.
His arms were wrapped possessively around his waist, her arms around his neck and her head rested on his chest. At the end of the song, he murmured his love for her before capturing her lips in a soft kiss. The blush that light up the Elizabeta's cheeks had nothing to do with the cold.
.
.
.
Ludwig and Gilbert soon became as regular patrons to the diner as Roderich himself. Gilbert had finally landed a job in the city, and he often bragged about his daily awesome to anyone who would listen. He constantly flirted with Elizabeta, much to Roderich's chagrin, and he told her tales of how he caught his younger brother sharing a very intimate moment with one of the catering team in a boom cupboard. The Hungarian was only mildly surprised to find out the mysterious lover was none other than Feliciano Vargas; a boy whom she had known since high school and whose twin brother worked at the diner, in the kitchens.
Roderich often found the two leaning over opposite sides of the counter during the lunch rush, arguing about the best way to expose the couple to the world. He warned Ludwig, who did his best afterwards to limit his contact with the Italian in public. Not that Feliciano would have any of this "No Public Displays of Affection" business. Oh well, at least they had tried.
.
.
.
"Morning, boys! I'll be with you in a second~!" Elizabeta called as she walked down the side of the diner, arms laden with dishes of food. After depositing them on the designated table she skipped back to the counter, where the three Germanics plus Feliciano stood. "Well, sit down, then. You want the usual, I guess?"
"Ve, but wait!" the small Italian cried, dark eyes shining with excitement. "Roderich has to—" Ludwig's hand slapped over Feliciano's mouth, cutting off the rest of his sentence.
The Hungarian turned to her boyfriend. "Roderich?"
The brunette, who was already looking very flustered, blushed darker. Gilbert gave him a little shove, and he stumbled forward. Then, he was on one knee, a small box held up like an offering to the goddess he had come to love with all his heart. There was a loud squeal from Feliks as Roderich asked quietly, "Elizaveta Héderváry, would you consent to marrying me?"
Her hand went to cover her mouth in a gasp, emerald eyes shining with joyous tears as she flung herself upon him, lips locked in a passionate kiss. There were cries of "Fucking finally!" and happy exclamations in French from the kitchen, not to mention the happy dance-jig-flail Elizabeta's Polish friend seemed to be doing in the corner; many of the occupants at the tables had started clapping.
When the two finally broke for air, Roderich asked almost timidly, "Is that a yes?"
She nodded, a dopey grin on her features as she breathed heavily. "That's a yes."
.
.
.
Roderich appointed Ludwig his best man, much to Gilbert's annoyance. Alice was Elizabeta's bridesmaid. Their wedding was a small, relatively quiet affair in early June. They found out later that the wedding date happened to coincide with the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867. Everyone, even Roderich, found the slight irony amusing.
The wedding night found the newly weds wrapped in the heated embrace of passion they had saved for this night. They made love long into the night, taking turns pleasuring the other. When they finally did succumb to exhaustion, they did so in each others arms, smiles on their lips and love in their hearts.
A/N: Tell me what you think? :3