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Summary: Austria has a well-kept secret. Naturally, the rest of the world won't stand for that. Or, the one in which the nations get together in an epic mission to make Austria squirm.
Characters/Pairing: Too many characters to name; pairings currently up to speculation
Genres: Humor, slight Romance
Warnings: Harassment of Austria (no ahoges will be seriously harmed in the writing of this fic), minor steamy situations and swearing in the future. So, basically just like the anime/manga, if not slightly worse later on!
Additional notes: I know there are some other ero-zone fics out there pertaining to the aristocrat, but I wanted to take a shot at writing my own. I'm naturally introspective and my writing tends to run off of deep thoughts and angst, so this foray into a light-hearted story is something new!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, those rights belong to Hidekaz Himaruya!
A special thanks to a band of beautiful people on another site who inadvertently give me a ton of inspiration. You're all wunderbar!
It started out - as it often did - with a round of drinks.
Prussia's distinctive laughter filled the room as he clinked his beer bottle against Spain's bottle of sherry and then France's glass of wine. Their movements were slightly uncoordinated due to the drinks they'd already had, spirits lifted as they shared the evening in the company of each other. They hadn't been able to get together like this in several weeks, and much catching up had been done already.
Now, Prussia was reclining back against the sofa, his arm slung over the back of it. Spain had taken the other side, and France was sitting in an armchair next to them. They were at his estate in Paris tonight, as he was going to host a meeting in a few days anyway.
The amusement was stemming from another recount of the Tale of the Tangled Curls, one of the trio's favorites to reminiscence. France only wished he could have been there, while Spain could remember it first-hand, and Prussia had heard his brother's awkward version of how things had happened. In fact, it was Germany's social reticence which Prussia found particularly hilarious.
"You should have seen his face, France - it was beet-red once he realized what Italy's curl did!"
"Romano was so angry..." Spain chuckled. "He was swearing up a storm. I don't know where he learned some of those phrases! But even when enraged, he is so cute!"
Resting his ankle upon his knee, France laughed softly and shook his head. "Ah, if only Angleterre had a curl like Italy's... Now that would be fun!" He mused wistfully, a bright gleam sparking in his eyes as he no doubt imagined just how much fun.
"Not all of them work that way, si?" Spain questioned. "Like America and...ah...there was another one... What do you think theirs do?"
"You mean Canada?" Prussia asked dryly, taking a swig of his beer. He, for one, always remembered who the North American nation was, due to some reason. It was a mystery of life, really.
"Nantucket and...Canada;s curl? I don't know." Francis stroked his beard in thought. "Possibly Angleterre would know. I could pay him a visit..."
"Hey, Austria has that curl of his..." A thought occurred to Gilbert suddenly. "Do you think it's like Italy's?" A smirk spread across his face, mirth dancing in his ruby eyes. "Could you imagine? That would be awesome! I bet he would fall over if you pulled it!"
"Ah, you might be on to something there..." France grinned shrewdly. "Perhaps there is something he hasn't told us, non?"
"Wait - you two were both married to the Little Master!" If Gilbert's tone held a hint of dissatisfaction, his friends took no notice. "Didn't you ever...find out?"
"Not really, mi amigo." Propping his elbow upon the arm of the sofa, Spain pressed his fist to his cheek. "I was away a lot, out on the seas and in the New World. And when I was with him, nothing we did made him act overly...you know." He gestured vaguely with his bottle of sherry, cheeks faintly red. "He was a nice guy once I got to know him, but I don't remember anything like that."
"Oh, and I would have loved to show him doux amour while we were together..." France gazed into space, a far-off look in his eyes. "But sadly, he never warmed up to me in that way. It was an...inconvenient time." He turned his attention to the silver-haired man. "What about you, anyway? You and him are practically neighbors, and you lived together, too. Not to mention all the wars. Didn't you ever pull his hair?"
"Well, ja, I've pulled his hair, but I don't know for sure how that particular curl affected him... He would turn red and get angry at even little things, so how would I tell?" Prussia tipped back the last of his beer and set the empty bottle to join the others upon the end table beside the sofa. "Come on, 'Tonio - weren't you guys married like two hundred years? You don't remember anything?"
"I remember things, but not any certain place on him like that out of the ordinary. Lo siento!" Antonio winked. "But I do remember, Mariazell was weird."
"Weird? How so?" Gilbert and Francis latched onto the information with great interest.
"It would move, sometimes... Almost like it was connected to his moods, you know? Whenever he was mad at me, it would stand straight up."
Francis snickered. "Are you sure it was anger he was feeling then, mon ami?"
"Oh, I'm sure..." Trailing off, Antonio shook his head at the memory of Roderich following him around, nagging and complaining whenever he'd found out about Spain doing something he didn't like. "I'm sure."
Rubbing the back of his head, Francis tsked softly. "Maybe Hungary would know, hm? She certainly liked to chase everyone else away from touching him..." He winced faintly, as if he could still feel the dull, throbbing pain caused by a frying pan bluntly impacting the skull.
"If anyone knew, wouldn't we have heard the story by now?" Spain asked. "No one has secrets for long when we all talk."
Gilbert huffed, drawing one knee up to his chest. "So really, what you're telling me is that no one has ever found out if Austria's curl makes him a hot mess?"
The trio glanced at one another, and then Francis smiled. It was a sly, deceptively smooth smile. "I have an idea, mes amis. Maybe someone has. We only need to ask!"
Alone in his home in Vienna, Austria was blissfully unaware that he was rapidly becoming the person of interest for the Bad Touch Trio's future shenanigans. He was calm and composed while he packed his luggage, Chopin's nocturnes filling the silence with sweet notes.
The meeting in Paris was approaching soon, after all.
"What do you think, Lieblich?" He asked his cat, which was watching him from the doorway of his bedroom. "Silk or cotton?" Austria held up two perfectly stark white cravats against his collarbone. The feline gave a soft mew and rolled onto his back, unconcerned with his master's trivial dilemma. His red and white bow chafed softly against the hardwood floor.
"Ja..." Roderich nodded. "Silk, of course. It is France's place." He shut his eyes for a brief moment, sighing as the night-inspired compositions of Chopin soothed him. "It is unfortunately France's place..."
At the thought, an uneasy feeling lodged itself somewhere in between his subconscious and intuition. At the time, he figured it was nothing which could not be cured with a slice of cake and some tea.
If Roderich had known how strange things were going to get after that conference, he would have called in sick and found himself a nice cottage upon the Alps to hide in for a few decades. But surely no one would go out of their way to bother him, of all people.
Oh, how wrong he was.
At Francis' chateau, the three buzzed friends were now huddled around the blonde man's laptop as he typed an email.
"We shouldn't tell West or Italy." Prussia said. "West would try to stop us, and Italy would tell him or Austria."
"Right..." Francis murmured. "Everyone else should be fine, non? One of them must know something about what makes L'Autriche tick in the right direction."
"But if they don't, we could always find out for ourselves."
Gilbert's proposition was met with a good-natured smile from Antonio and an esurient smirk from their host.
"Si, it would be interesting... Why Austria, though?" Spain wondered.
"Why not? That guy still hasn't loosened up, after all these years. Someone has to mess with him every now and then, and it's been a while since we have! Think about it - if it weren't for us, he'd never do anything interesting!" It should be noted that Prussia's definition of interesting varied from Austria's version. Greatly, at certain times.
"But of course - we must not let an opportunity to learn slip away!" Francis grinned as he clicked 'Send', the message going to every nation he had a contact for, save Germany, Italy, and the aristocrat himself.
Attention,
If you have received this message, please stay in the vicinity after the conference and regroup in room 24B. A matter of vast importance is at hand that I would like your opinion on. Please keep this confidential until I can speak with you all in person.
Merci, et à la vôtre!
- France
"There...it is done!" The three replenished their drinks and clinked them together once more, toasting to a plan sure to be enlightening.
Room 24A was lavishly decorated for a simple conference. Satin drapes hung on the sides of each window. The floor was spotless and boasted an intricate gold-and-cream tile design. The table and chairs were all positioned perfectly in the center of the floor, croissants and fruit thoughtfully laid out across the surface. The room carried the scent of French cologne, along with the stifling aura of sheer and utter boredom.
"And so concludes the history of cats in Ancient Greece."
Very few faces were actually attentive as Heracles finished his thirty-minute...speech. In fact, Italy was dozing, practically leaning upon Germany's shoulder. Two seats away from him, in between Hungary and Switzerland, Austria shook his head at the nonsensical speech. England seemed drowsy at best, downing tea in order to keep his eyes open. Like many of the others, he looked widely unimpressed. Half of the nations hadn't been paying attention through any of Greece's presentation. Poland was glaring pink daggers at Russia, who was smiling at Lithuania, who was in turn glancing anxiously at Belarus. The Nordics were conversing amongst themselves, except for Norway, who was silent, and Iceland, who was sipping a latte. So really, Finland was talking to Sweden, who occasionally grunted or mumbled a response, and Denmark was interjecting random remarks in between. China had been cat-napping while Japan took notes. Turkey was simply shaking his head, looking as though he desperately craved his hookah.
Spain was poking Lovino's cheek at opportune moments, each time receiving a swat in return. America was doodling a superhero version of himself saving the world (by tucking it under his arm like a football), while a masked villain riding a unicorn chased him. The villain just happened to have enormous eyebrows. If England noticed the symbolism, he didn't comment on it. He was too busy sensing a strange presence somewhere next to him... It was almost like - ah, wait, it was only Canada.
"Does that have anything at all to do with your ongoing economic crisis?" Germany asked at last.
Staring at them all blankly, Greece blinked languidly. "No."
"Terrible..." Francis sighed quietly to himself. "I would have much preferred you to speak about the gloriously nude Olympians of the old days if you were going to waste our time." He gathered his notes together and stood up, speaking now to be heard. "Well, that's everyone for today, non? Unless someone has questions for Monsieur Greece, I believe we can be dismissed."
Everyone shook their heads, some like America, Australia and Denmark jumping out of their seats in eagerness to for the conference to come to a close. What had been intended as anesthetically pleasing room had since become suffocating. England in particular was complaining under his breath about French cologne poisoning his senses. Aside from that, it had been another less-than-fruitful endeavor. Many nations had tried their best, but as always, they were distracted or too determined to make themselves seem better than the others to really reach solutions on the issues at hand.
"Okay then, we will try again next time. Adieu, my darlings!" Francis waved to some of the nations as they left. Of course, he hoped he would see them just next door in a few minutes.
Austria stood up and stepped over to Germany, who had roused Italy from his doze so that he could collect his papers.
"Veh... Ciao, Doitsu! Ciao, Austria!" The chipper light brunette embraced them both before running out to find his brother and, inevitably, Spain.
"Tschau." The two Germanics replied, Germany with a faint blush and Austria with a hint of a smile.
"Ready to leave?" He asked Germany.
"Ja." The tall blonde returned. "Let me just ask Bruder if he wants to go with us."
Nodding, Austria went to stand by the door. He and Germany often made the trips to and from conferences together. It was cheaper and somewhat convenient to travel together, being neighbors and all. Loathe as he was to admit it Austria also relied upon the man to keep him from getting lost between point A and point B. Sometimes Gilbert would travel with them as well.
Austria raised an eyebrow when France blew him a kiss from across the room. Come to think of it, the entire Bad Touch Trip had been throwing him strange glances throughout the meeting. That in itself wasn't all too uncommon, however, and Roderich didn't expect anything to come of it.
He tilted his head down slightly and pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, shooting France an unimpressed look of his own.
As if anything is going to happen.
France laughed softly and gave a wink in return, then moved on as more and more nations filed out of the room. He caught England's wrist, causing the green-eyed blonde to turn to him questioningly.
"Hey, Angleterre... What do you know about Amérique's Nantucket?"
"Wh-what? What sort of beef-witted question is that?"
"Ah, I think you know something!" France crowed victoriously. "What does it do, hm?"
"Don't presume it does anything! And how should I know? What do you take me for?" England's voice was getting louder as his cheeks flushed redder. He was probably lying.
Austria redirected his gaze to Prussia, who was still sitting, leaning back in his seat and chowing his way through must have been his seventh or eighth croissant. Apparently, he was enjoying France's place too much to want to go home just yet.
Germany came back to stand beside him. "Bruder has plans with his friends, so he says we can go ahead."
"I AM NOT A BLOODY PERVERT!" England wailed suddenly as he and France half-shoved, half-strangled each other around. Oh yes, he was most definitely lying.
"You are the biggest pervert aside from moi!" At this point, Austria highly doubted that France and England even remembered the fact that other people were still in the room.
"Well, I least I do it better than you!"
"Ohonhon, do you now?" France stopped short, leering at the other man. "I highly doubt it."
"Oh, hush up! I didn't mean it like that! Not that you're right - oh, just leave me be, you prat!"
"Ja..." Austria agreed calmly. "I think it's time to go."
He turned on his heel and walked away, putting distance between himself and Prussia's distinct chortling at the arguing nations.
The conference would be put out of his mind within a day, and he'd think nothing unusual about anything that had went on.
Well, perhaps he was curious about Nantucket...but that would be another story entirely.
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This is my first attempt at a multi-chap fic, so we shall see how it works out. I admire those who can make it look so incredibly easy! Rock on!
French
Non - no'
Mon ami/mes amis - 'My friend/my friends'
Merci, et à la vôtre! - 'Thank you, and cheers!'
Adieu - 'Goodbye'
Angleterre - 'England'
Amérique - 'America'
German
Ja - 'Yes'
Lieblich - 'Lovely' (I just find the idea of Austria consulting his cat and calling him pet names adorable and hilarious!)
Tschau - 'Bye; German form of Ciao'
Spanish
Si - 'Yes'
Mi amigo - 'My friend'
Lo siento - 'I'm sorry'
Italian
Ciao - 'Bye'
So, thank you for reading, and cheers! :3
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