Vash pressed his back against the sturdy mahogany door of the empty meeting room, dropped his briefcase to the floor, closed his eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath. He'd retreated to the silent confines of Meeting Room A in order to escape the havoc of the cafeteria. Lunch hour was supposed to be a reprieve from senseless arguments, but the change of venue only seemed to reignite his fellow nations passions for confrontation.
He had been enjoying his peace and quiet when the gruff noise of someone clearing their throat disturbed his solitude. Opening his eyes and glancing around, he saw Lars sitting at a desk in the far corner of the room, engrossed in a book.
"I didn't realize that anyone was in here." Vash explained, palming behind him for the door handle. "I'll be leaving then."
"You can stay." Lars waved a hand at him dismissively, seemingly unfazed by Vash's presence and never once tearing his eyes away from the well-worn leather bound book in his right hand.
Vash stepped forward, curious to see what the hell was so damn interesting that Lars couldn't even be bothered to establish eye contact. Getting just close enough to read the gilded lettering, Vash had to press the back of his hand to his mouth to contain his laughter and surprise.
"Is there a problem ?"
Vashed scoffed and folded his arms. "Poetry ? Honestly, I'd never pegged you as the soft type."
Lars clenched his jaw. Was Vash really going to mock him over something so trivial ? "It's art, would you like me to prove it to you ?"
Vash sat down on the edge of the desk, hovering above Lars. "What are you going to do, compare me to a Summer's day ?"
Lars ignored the remark, instead he flicked through the book at a snails pace, infuriating Vash, until he found just the right poem.
'Put off that mask of burning gold
With emerald eyes.'
'O no, my dear, you make so bold
To find if hearts be wild and wise,
And yet not cold.'
'I would but find what's there to find,
Love or deceit.'
'It was the mask engaged your mind,
And after set your heart to beat,
Not what's behind.'
'But lest you are my enemy,
I must enquire.'
'O no, my dear, let all that be,
What matter, so there is but fire
In you, in me?'
There was long pause before either man spoke. Lars, who moments ago seemed eager to defend the poetry, now turned back to his reading as though uninterested in what Vash had thought.
Vash was no master at reading critically, but even he could see that 'burning gold with emerald eyes' matched his description. 'Love or deceit' repeated itself in his mind, was that some odd way of asking him how he really felt ?
Still seated on the desk and looming over Lars , Vash leaned forward, grabbing him by the scarf. "If you ever speak of this, I will deny it." he barked, before crashing his lips against Lars'.
Lars tried to stand, but was forcefully pushed down into his chair by Vash who would not humiliate himself by standing on the tips of his toes to kiss the taller man. After a few failed attempts at getting to his feet, Lars pulled Vash onto his lap in compromise.
"Laura will never hear about this." Lars panted, pulling away from the kiss.
Vash nodded, "Nor will Lili."
They continued like that for a few minutes, kissing, biting, and grinding against each other, until the distinct sound of American laughter came from outside the doorway. Vash leapt from Lars' lap, straightened himself out, and scattered some papers across the desk to make it look as though they'd actually been working.
"If you re-examine the figures from the second quarter . . ." Vash began, scribbling on a page for effect. Lars nodded along, listening closely but keeping one eye on his fellow nations as they took their places behind their desks. Only when Lars looked eventually at the page, did he notice that Vash had written down the address of his hotel.
[A/N: The poem used is 'The Mask' by William Butler Yeats.
It's canon that Netherlands likes romantic poetry.
Also, I'm aware that Lars is not one of the potential human names listed by Himaruya, but it's a popular fan name that I liked]