He was laughing again, and it was a real laugh. Elizabeta knew it well. It was a husky, booming tone that held none of the harsh sarcasm and arrogance that she usually received when Gilbert laughed at her. Locked behind the closed door of his office Elizabeta thought better than to disturb him, she was having such a lovely Friday afternoon, why ruin it? Still, she couldn't help but wonder what had provoked his humour enough to make him laugh out loud. Pacing the corridors of her adopted home restlessly, she trailed a finger along a board windowsill and looked out to the carefully tended gardens.
Living with Ludwig was not so bad, in fact on the odd occasion she enjoyed it. It was a large estate, larger than Roderich's had been, and with enough room that all the occupants and their guests could live in comfort and relative peace. This wasn't the first shift of house Elizabeta had lived through and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But it was the most close to home she'd ever felt in a long time. Surrounded by the calamity of a prospering, young nation like Ludwig gave her a feeling of security, especially concerning her economy. While the company of her ex husband and childhood friend/enemy tired her; Roderich and Gilbert filled her with a feeling of comforting familiarity. Whenever she'd awake in the morning to hear augments, or even full blown bawls in the middle of the night, there was a kind of serenity to living in such a dysfunctional environment. As well as that she had the best of both worlds; Ludwig took care in ensuring her country was safe and well protected as well as being the clear voice of reason between his brother and Roderich. The Austrian had always been a listening ear and his diligent practice of music lifted the household's spirit and soothed many angry tempers. Gilbert however had always been her bane, but he was a beloved one, dragging Elizabeta out for drinking and darts (which he always lost, on purpose he boasted, just to please her.)
Since the end of the Second World War Elizabeta had enjoyed the peace and freedom of the twenty first century, with the only battles she could foresee in the future was her struggling economy, which now thanks to Ludwig was a battle she would not have to fight alone.
Leaving the house and Gilbert's rough, echoing laughter, Elizabeta took a seat under a shaded tree, relaxing in a warm patch of sun. She did so for some time until the shadow of a tall figure fell over her sunny patch. Opening her eyes a slither to observe the man in front of her Elizabeta smiled.
She loved him, even as children she'd been fond of him and later they'd used that fondness to forge a marriage.
But that had been it. It always had and always would be a fond form of love and affection, nothing else.
"Can I help you? You're in my sun." Straightening his jacket Roderich Edelstein, the Austrian Nation stared down at his ex wife.
"I won't be for long. I'll be away this weekend." His glasses flashed for a second in the sun, "for another music conference."
Elizabeta's heart sank. Forcing a smile, she nodded;
"Oh lovely, will you be away from the entire weekend?" If he'd heard the undertone of venom in her voice, he didn't let on.
"Yes, the whole three days, the hotel address is in the usual spot." Leaning down stiffly, Roderich pressed a soft kiss to Elizabeta's brown hair. "I'll see you on Sunday evening."
"Good bye," she said, watching him cross the lawn and re-enter the house.
Her previous good mood spoilt, Elizabeta sighed. She wasn't upset, not really. Roderich's music conferences had been going on for centuries, even throughout their marriage. There was no or little music really involved in these weekends. Roderich would go to a location and have gentleman callers pay him visits. What would follow Elizabeta assumed was a weekend long orgy, although she'd never asked. She didn't really want to know, it just hurt too much. As much as she want him to be happy, he obliviously didn't want her 'that way.' They'd shared many things during their time together, but sex had never been one of them. It made Elizabeta feel useless, she'd long ago accepted her femininity, but being unable to uphold a role she'd been informed was key to her job as wife frustrated her.
Leaning back against the tree, a dull thud of a slamming car door echoed from the other side of the garden, signalling Roderich's getaway. He just couldn't wait to leave Elizabeta thought, knocking her head back against the trunk. But that wasn't fair, taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and took in the beauty of the garden, willing herself to be calm. This was something she'd dealt with a hundred times before and knew the remedy to combat the feelings of hurt and frustration. Ice cream, ice cream always helped.
Double chocolate chip ice cream was a saviour. When she'd first tried it years ago Elizabeta knew she'd found a friend forever. Digging her spoon into the hard chocolate cream, television channels raced by until she settled on a boring chat show re-run. Drawing the blanket up and around her shoulders she relaxed into the cushions, munching down her spoonful of joy.
"You look like a wet pussy, missing your wuss already?" Craning her neck up, Elizabeta meet the starling blue and unearthly crimson eyes of the two brothers. Ludwig was dressed in a neatlt pressed uniform, the thick coat on his shoulders sparked her interest, making it easier to ignore the Prussian's jibe.
"Are you going out Ludwig?" Also choosing to ignore his brother's taunting the taller man replied promptly.
"Yes Feliciano's house is hosting an Opera evening." Nodding Elizabeta took another spoonful of ice cream and brought it up over her head, offering it to the company behind her. Cheeks reddening slightly, Ludwig shook his head, but Gilbert dived down on the spoon, devouring it, then licking the sweet offering from his lips and as his brother donned his cap and turned to leave.
"Have a good night!" Elizabeta called after him "I'll leave the porch light on for you." Grunting his thanks, the German gently closed the door behind him, muttering something about not bothering with the light.
Laughing harsh and rakishly Gilbert stalked around the sofa, pushing the wad of blankets away to collapse next to Elizabeta. Pouncing quickly on the television remote before she could stop him, the silver haired man channels surfed before settling on the ending scenes of Speed.
"You know dragging your chin around won't make the time pass any quicker." Glancing at him as she dug out another spoonful, Elizabeta sniffed airily.
"I'm not dragging my chin." Scoffing Gilbert stretched out his legs, resting them on the coffee table front of them.
"Don't do that, Ludwig doesn't like it when you do that." Elizabeta warned him in a smug tone, watching him shrug and lose interest in the topic of Austria and his weekend away.
"West isn't here, and what West doesn't know, won't hurt him. It'll be our little secret." He paused; "just like if you want to cry because Pansy Pants isn't here." Years of dealing with the Prussian ass-hat helped Elizabeta ignore his teasing, but appreciate his sentiment regardless. Standing she flicked off the blankets, placed the lid on the ice cream container and left for the kitchen. Her icy silence giving Gilbert enough indication of what she thought of their 'little secrets.'
Ice cream in the freezer and spoon in the sink, Elizabeta took a moment to compose herself before returning to the living room. Gilbert had vanished by the time she returned, slinking back to his own quarters no doubt, happy to leave her sulking in her own misery. If she was lucky, he'd now avoid her for the rest of the weekend. Rearranging herself back into a comfortable nest of blankets and cushions, she switched the station to a late night music channel, raising the volume to hopefully annoy Gilbert for the rest of the evening.
"Royal or Dynasty Imperial? Both are cut clean and clear, won't burn like Finlandia." Two bottles of vodka were pushed in Elizabeta's face. Looking up at Gilbert who shook the bottles impatiently, she made a quick choice.
"Royal, but I'm not picky,"
"I knew you'd pick Royal" Gilbert bragged, slapping down two crystal glasses on the coffee table.
"It reminds me of the occupation," she said. Pouring out two rough shots of the clear spirit, Gilbert frowned.
"And that's a good thing?"
Elizabeta shrugged, taking the glass he offered her;
"Not at the time but the alcohol was nice, I'll give Ivan one thing, he knows his vodka." Clinking glasses briefly, they tossed back their shots. Licking the rim of the glass for any linger remnants, Elizabeta hummed. The heat of the vodka burnt all the way down, forcing her more awake then she'd been all afternoon.
"Thank you" she said, holding out her glass for another shot, grunting Gilbert took the seat beside her and poured another round. Shivering at the second impact of the shot, Elizabeta relaxed even more into the warmth of the sofa and alcohol.
"I was serious you know" Opening her eyes against the running blur of the television, Elizabeta turned towards Gilbert.
"Serious about what, when?" The unsettling red of Gilbert's eyes gazed over by vodka, darted quickly away and then back to hers.
"If you wanted to cry about missing Roderich." Laughing out loud Elizabeta swiped the bottle off the table, not even bother to measure a glass and she sipped straight from it.
"I don't miss Roderich," resting her head back against the sofa again, her took a smaller sip.
"I just..." she stopped. Gilbert had been many things to her over the years, but a shoulder to cry on had not really been one of them, drinking buddy however was a different story.
"I'm one up on you." Grinning at the not so subtle change in conversation, Gilbert scoffed at Elizabeta's cocky smile.
"Oh yeah right, not for long! Like you can compare with my awesomeness!"
As the night grew long and the bottle emptied, the music become louder as the pair got drunken.
"Dammit woman, drink more!" Tipping the bottle up into Elizabeta's open mouth, Gilbert laughed as the clear liquor trickled out the corner of her lips. Gagging she feebly swiped out at him but still continued to drink, pausing only when the bottle ran dry.
"Another!" She screamed, her voice breathless, knocking the now empty bottle out of Gilbert's hands and onto the floor.
Laughing he uncorked the second bottle, his face was filled with drunken surprise as it was commandeered from his grasp. Elizabeta was as strong as ever he thought, suddenly finding himself pinned to the sofa. Her knees either side of his thighs, she leant up proudly above him. Her hair was loose and falling down around her face, cheeks red with alcohol, laughter and heat. When had the room gotten so hot? Gilbert couldn't remember, somewhere in his foggy memory he remembered loosen his tie and unbuttoning the top buttons on his shirt. Was that tonight? Or just the routine memory of what he did every night. Elizabeta was rubbing against his legs now, swaying slightly above him, her balance hampered by her intoxication. Bottle in one hand, she stretched out the another finding Gilbert's shoulder and latching on tight for support, steadying her from falling backwards off the sofa. But she missed his shoulder, only just, her hand coming to rest at the nook of his neck, on his collarbone. Soft fingers caressed along the exposed skin of his chest, clarity broke through his booze induced haze, so he had popped some buttons at some during the night.
Her height seemed to please her, a smile on her beautiful face, lips turned up in triumphant, he'd seen her look like this before, on the battlefield and sometimes in the home, but never close up and not as she looked down upon him.
"Here! You drink ape! As if you could out drink me. I am of the old Germanic blood too!"
Sloshing vodka down Gilbert's front, the Prussian barely registered the dripping cold which soaked through his shirt. He was too warm, near overheating, she was just too close. But he wouldn't move her, couldn't, especially as she forced his lips around the open bottle and turned it up right. Eyes watering, Gilbert sculled the offered drink, a challenge to his heritage she had made and it was one he would step up to, especially as Elizabeta chatter incessantly above him.
"I remember when Ivan challenged you to that drinking contest. Do you remember? We kept the vodka outside in the snow so it'd chill, oh when was it? 1790 perhaps? Ahh, wasn't that a night, I thought you'd never stop screaming after you lost and the Russian touched your hair. All the while yelling, 'I'm awesome, I didn't lose, I'm too awesome!'" Laughing as the man under her began to gag, Elizabeta took pity on him and lowered the bottle. No one could drink that quickly on such an angle, not ever the great Ivan, and Gilbert was wasting more then he was drinking.
Suddenly the world shifted beneath her, the seat she was perched upon bucked. The room twisted in motion as Gilbert rolled his hips against hers. A shiver rocketed through her, dizzily rocking back, she narrowed her eyes down at him. There was a gleam in his eyes, hot and strong, a muffled gurgle came from behind the bottle, as she tried to pull it away, his hands rose and tipped it upright again. He was not backing down from the challenge, even if it killed him, or at least made him violently ill. Nodding her understanding, Elizabeta continued to hold the bottle up, the knees that had been pinning him to the sofa had slid forward during their small tussle. Their hips now sliding comfortably together any time either of them moved. Whenever Gilbert gulped another scolding metallic mouthful, his whole body shook, leaving Elizabeta brainless. The bottle in her hands was barely staying upright, she was nearly trembling as he finished off the last of it, sucking down the final drops until it was empty. Releasing her hold on the glass base of the bottle, it fell to the floor limply.
She was still swaying perilously over him, on instinct he reached out to steady her, clamping his hands down on her slender hips. Prompted by his sudden movement, their hips met again. As if driven by some primal desire, they connected yet again, both grinding hard against each other, the feeling intensified. Surging through both of them to break through the alcohol and formality.
Gasping Elizabeta held tight to Gilbert's shoulders, rubbing hard against his upward thrusts, the fingers at her waist digging in almost painfully as he met her stroke for stroke, bringing her down faster and grinding against her for longer. Falling forward, hair tumbling down around her ears, Elizabeta looked at Gilbert, a real, hard look. Red eyes dazed with intoxication and arousal, signature silver hair tussled by her hands fell over his eyes at a jaunty angel. Tie loose, buttons free and showing a delicious square of chest, her eyes wandered further downwards. The spilt vodka had soaked through the fabric of his shirt, turning the soft, white cotton into a intriguing transparent film over the hard muscle of his chest and torso.
He certainly wasn't as soft or lean as Roderich, or as broad and built as Ludwig, but he was beautifully crafted through years of battle, successes and hardships. Through either the chill of the vodka or the heat of arousal, his pale nipples hardened under the wet cloth. Lowering a hand down from his collarbone, Elizabeta touched a finger tip to the hard nub. He immediately bucked harder against her, spending more hot shocks to run up and down her spine. Fuelled by alcoholic clarity and confidence from his reaction, Elizabeta pinched lightly at his flesh, rewarded with a low moan that broke Gilbert's breathless streak.
Arching his back off the sofa, Gilbert pushed his chest into Elizabeta 's hands, willing her to continue. Grinning she twisted lightly, revelling in the feeling of power that filled her. Fingers wet with vodka she pulled her hands away, pushing herself impossibly closer. Their chests connected, foreheads colliding gently. Clear emeralds eyes met deep rubies orbs as they stared at each other. Their lips close enough to feel the soft puffs of breath exhaled from one another. Heartbeats pounded in unison within their chests, hips pumping simultaneously.
"Elizabeta" she blinked, Gilbert had spoken in a voice so quiet and tender she couldn't truly believe he'd said it. They were closer now, nose to nose, as close as they could physically, with no space between them, they were almost linked, nearly as one. It was just them in the world, no one else, the room was dim, an intensely hot atmosphere closing in more and more as if they were locked in some dark, sensual chest.
Gilbert's mind raced as she touched him again, her fingers filtering through his hair. This has to be a dream he thought, there was no way in hell the Hungarian Harpy would be sitting his lap, dry humping his rock hard cock, drunk or not, and especially not if she was missing Lord Dandy Pants.
Austria!
Clamping his hands down suddenly on those tantalising rotating hips, Gilbert forced them still. Squeezing his eyes shut, he refused to look at Elizabeta least he lose his resolve. His stomach rolled with guilt and possible alcohol poisoning.
Regardless of their years apart Elizabeta still belonged to Roderich, he knew that, West knew that, everyone knew that! They'd been together for so many years, their marriage ending only due to the separate of nations on request of their bosses. Bile rose in his throat, he was particularly stealing another man's wife, adultery was a chief sin and here he was about to bang the woman of his dreams, who belonged to the man of his nightmares. Taking a deep breath, Gilbert opened his eyes, Elizabeta was still posed above him, her hips still in his hands, she looked tense, all the previous powerful confidence was gone.
"Gilbert" she said, easing into his name, as one would speak to a frightened animal, did she think he was scared?
"Elizabeta, I-I..." Hips still held in his hands she leant back, her breasts damp and firm through her blouse caught his eyes. Physically flinching he looked away, he felt sick, his mouth was watering, his eyes unfocused, hands clammy.
"Gilbert, what's wrong?"
"I. Am. Going. To. Puke!"
Pushing the woman aside with a swiftness that surprised a very drunk Gilbert, jumping the sofa, he sprinted to the toilet just in time.
Rubbing her side where the corner of the coffee table had met her hip, Elizabeta listened to Gilbert's sounds of distress with grim confusion. What the hell had just happened? They'd all but made out on the sofa! Was she really that lonely that Gilbert seemed a suitable partner? Anyone seems like a good partner with enough drinks she reminded herself. Heaving herself off the floor, she stumbled through the halls and down to the bathroom.
Gilbert seemed to be over the worst of it, kneeling beside the loo, he spat into the bowl a final time and turned to face Elizabeta.
"Wait" she slurred and dashed drunkly to the kitchen, retrieving a glass of water and rushing back to the bathroom in time to help Gilbert up from the floor. Steadying himself on the wall, he nudged her away and grabbed the water. Sensing the awkward shift in mood, Elizabeta leant in the doorway, watching him finish the glass and pour another.
"What was so funny?" she said after a time, the silent was uncomfortable, the hot growing pit of heat in her stomach was slowly festering into anxiety.
"What?" he snapped, red eyes glared at her from the mirror above the basin as he downed yet another glass.
"This morning what was making you laugh? In your office." Those red eyes didn't let up, but his face lost some of its aggression.
"Cats." Elizabeta blinked, turning her body towards him in the door way, because in no way could that be correct. Gilbert hated cats, they posed a serious threat to his birds and Ludwig was allergic.
"Cats" she repeated unsure, he nodded, putting down the glass.
"Yes, cats on the internet." She raised an eyebrow at him, throwing his hands up in an over dramatic expression of despair he must have learnt from Italy, Gilbert stormed from the bathroom dragging Elizabeta with him. Entering his quarters, Gilbert unlocked his office and ushered her inside. Booting up his laptop, he carolled her into the chair behind the desk. Typing a search into a media site, Elizabeta watched in amazement as the screen was filled with clips of cats dancing, playing the piano, singing, even a cat with sad face that bore a striking resemblance to Arthur Kirkland, she couldn't help but laugh.
Leaning against the wall of his office, Gilbert tried to force down the conflicting emotions swarming inside him. Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, he closed his eyes to think for a moment, but Elizabeta carefree laughter didn't help. Would she remember this in the morning? How drunk was she? He had poured a lot of booze into her, why did she have to do that! Clamber all over him like a horny teenager, it was all her fault! If that prick Roderich wanted to cause an issue about a little bit of grab ass so be it. Gilbert would just inform him he needed to take better care of his ex wife and her sex drive in the future.
Huffing in satisfaction, Gilbert looked up, ready to kick the bitch off his chair and into the hall, but he paused. She wasn't laughing any more, in fact she wasn't even moving. Dashing across the room Gilbert watched her carefully, the angle of her neck, her legs curled up on the chair, eyes closed, with a dreamy, innocent expression on her sleeping face.
She'd passed out.
Brushing stray chestnut hair from her cheeks, Gilbert bent low, heaving Elizabeta up and holding her close. His shirt was nearly dry and thankfully she wasn't all that heavy. Manoeuvring out of the office and down the estate, he paused at her room. Skilfully bumping the lock open, Elizabeta made a quiet mewing noise as he holstered her into bed, clumsily wrapping the covers snugly around her like a cocoon, Gilbert knelt beside the bed.
She was beautiful. It had concerned him in his youth how attracted he found himself to the scrawny long haired brat. When she'd finally revealed her identity as a woman he found a certain feeling of closure, but he could never say it. Even admitting it to himself was impossible, and he'd never had a chance with her, she ran straight to Roderich and had stayed with him for what seemed like forever now.
Clenching his fists, he stood up jaggedly, staring down at the sleeping princess he so greatly admired and hated all at the same time. He couldn't do it, he couldn't blame her, he'd been the instigator, getting her that drunk was sure to have consequences he'd known that, but he certainly didn't expect it to be so extreme. Drunken innuendo and maybe passing out drunk spooning together yeah sure, but nothing like what they'd done.
With one last look Gilbert left her room, closing the door as quietly as he could and striding down the hall to his own quarters he sighed angrily. The pounding dehydration headache was already kicking in and the morning promised one hell of a hangover.