Poland dropped himself into the chair in front of Germany's desk, crossing his legs like a woman. The German dutifully kept his eyes on his work, not daring to acknowledge the Pole, knowing that he would try to strike up a conversation and Germany needed to work, not waste time talking to the whimsical man; he needed to finish these war plans and send them out as soon as possible. The man in front of him seemed to have wonderful fun distracting or whining at him most days, but today he was completely silent, his eyes locked intently on his forehead in an unsaid staring contest with what seemed to be his forehead. He pretended to simply ignore the penetrating stare and continue working, but when Poland leaned closer, his green eyes held wide open as he refused to blink, Germany couldn't help but look up.

"I win!" The Pole sat back in his chair, grinning widely.

He almost didn't bother to hide his confusion about the man's outburst, but his face remained blank. His hand wrote faster, knowing that he wouldn't be able to continue much longer if Poland stayed. "Get out."

"Awh, but I, like, don't want to!" Poland crossed his arms, pouting.

"Out."

"I promise I'll be quiet," Poland whined.

Germany gave him a tired look. "We both know you won't be silent."

He made the motion of zipping his lips, determined to prove him wrong, and sat back in his chair.

The German just sighed and returned to his work. After a while, Poland put out a small wooden pony from his pocket, riding it across his lap like it was real. He was almost surprised Poland still had it; he had given it as a gift to shut the young man up when he kept pestering him for a pony.

"Off the desk," Germany ordered when Poland rode his pony across his desk, jumping over pencils and pens.

The Pole only pouted at him, keeping his silence.

Germany sighed for a second time and stood, gathering his papers and filing them away. "Go make dinner," he said without looking at him.

"Yeah!" Poland ran off to the kitchen, ready to work wonders. A song rose in his chest and he didn't stop himself when he started to sing as he gather ingredients together. His feet moved on their own, swaying from side to side as he chopped up vegetables and threw them in a pot. Poland put the pot on the stove and threw some sausage into the mix, letting it boil and stew together. He was unaware when Germany entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, listening closely. His high, feminine voice strangely reminded Germany of a caged bird. The way it was sad, yet sweet, made his heart ache in a dangerous way.

He finally made his presence known when Poland's voice finally died away by asking, "What are you making?"

"Oh!" Poland startled slightly, turning his smile towards him. "I don't really know."

The German couldn't keep the confused look from his face. He wasn't even going to ask.

Poland returned his gaze back to the pot, stirring it and bringing the spoon to his mouth to taste. He weighed the taste on his tongue before adding different spice in, only adding to the wonderful smell that filled the kitchen. It wasn't long before his set a bowl of stew in front on Germany.

Germany sniffed the steam that came from it warily, before slowly taking tasting it. "What did you put in this?"

"I don't know," he replied cheerfully. "But I'm pretty sure there's, like, a potato in there."

"I see." He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "This is why the Polish will never be good cooks."

Poland pouted to himself, sending a half-hearted glare. But stopped when he saw the faces Germany was making at his stew, almost as if this food confused him as much as Poland did. Bite after bite, he tried to figure out what exactly was in the delicious mix until it was all gone.

"You make cute faces?" He laughed.

His cheeks heated up as he looked up at Poland. "Was?"

"The faces you've made are so cute!" The Pole grinned brightly at him.

"I am not cute." A frown made its way onto his face.

He pouted, not liking the looks he was getting from the German. "You can't, like, see your own face, so how would you know?"

"It's my face."

Poland crossed his arms. "I still think it's totally cute."

Germany got up and placed his bowl in the sink, walking back to his office, tired of the conversation and of the heated blush that clung stubbornly to his cheeks. But Poland only followed him, abandoning his own bowl of stew. "Go to your room."

"I don't want to," Poland replied stubbornly.

"Go to your room, that's an order!" He was done with Poland's weirdness; he could only take so much.

Poland crossed his arms.

"Now!"

"Oh, fine!" He stormed to his room and slammed the door behind him.

"Don't slam the door," Germany called angrily after him.

He slammed the door again out of spite and threw himself on the bed, grumbling in Polish. The stomping of feet followed his outburst, causing a streak of fear to rush through him. Have I gone too far? Suddenly his door fell off its hinges and there stood Germany, holding the pins from his door.

"My door," he gasped. "What did you do?"

"You mean my door? You no longer have the privilege of a door," he said in a monotone voice. Germany bent down and picked up the heavy door, easily taking it outside.

Poland chased after him. "That's not fair!"

He didn't answer, but returned inside and to his office, leaving the Pole alone to himself.

"My door..." He stared at the door for a moment, then burst into laughter and walked back inside to his room. "That was kinda childish for such a serious guy. Don't you think so too, Pony?" He took the wooden pony from his pocket again, chatting casually with it in Polish. After awhile he quieted down and simply stared at the ceiling.

He didn't know how much time passed, but Germany came out of his office, heading into his bedroom that was just down the hall from his. Suddenly a brilliant idea came into his mind and he grinned mischievously, slipping out of his room and sneaking down the hall. He peeked into Germany's room, noting how orderly and perfect it was, he could hear the water from the bathroom turn on as the German readied himself for bed. Poland sneaked to the bed and slid under the covers, hoping Germany wouldn't notice him quickly.

Germany came out of the bathroom, wearing only his boxers, not even an undershirt to cover the rippling muscles of his chest. His mind was on the plans ahead and they were so tangled in his work he didn't notice Poland until he laid down in bed and the smaller man pressed himself against his side. He let out a cry of surprise and fell off the edge of the bed.

Poland couldn't help but laugh at him, peering down at him from the bed.

"What are you doing?" He nearly yelled. "Why are you in my bed?"

"Now that my room doesn't have a door, it's cold." He grinned widely at him.

With as much calm as he could manage after the surprise he found in his bed, although it's not like Poland laid naked and waiting for him to— "You have blankets," Germany mumbled as he stood up, suddenly very aware how unclothed he was.

"But your room is totally like, warmer." Poland pouted up at him.

"Go to your room."

"Please! I want to stay!" He looked at him with those pleading eyes.

Germany looked away. "Go to your room," he repeated.

Then the Pole said questioningly, "Gefallen?"

"W-Was?" Heat rose to Germany's cheeks as he stared at the blond in front of him.

Poland tried again, "Please?"

"Do you know what you said?"

"Gefallen means please, right?" He looked up at him, obviously confused.

Germany couldn't keep the small, amused smile from his face. "You just asked if you could please me."

Red blush colored his cheeks, nearly covering his entire face before he pulled the covers over his face and hid.

A soft laugh escaped Germany's lips; he couldn't help but find the situation surprisingly comical.

"You know my German is no good," Poland mumbled from under the covers.

"Ja, ja," he said in a good-humored.

Poland pouted even though he knew he could not be seen, until he felt the bed dip as Germany seated himself on the very edge. He pulled down the blankets enough to peek up at him. It hit him how tired he was and how comfortable the bed was, he didn't even realize his eyes closed, sleep already claimed his mind for dreamland.

Germany looked over at him, noticing how the breathing beside him had quieted and was surprised to find the man asleep. He leaned closer to inspect Poland's face, eyes slowly going over the smooth, almost feminine lines of his face and the soft looking, pink lips that parted ever so slightly. Germany lightly touched his cheek to find it soft and smooth, trailing his fingers down to his lips, tracing a finger over the warm flesh. He jerked his hand away when a quiet sigh ghosted over his fingers, making sure that he hadn't woken Poland. He laid down, making sure the blankets stayed between him and the smaller man, it wasn't long before he too fell asleep.

...oOo...

When Germany woke in the morning, he noticed immediately the warmth that sprawled itself across his chest with its arms wrapped around him, their legs tangled together, and that his own traitorous arms encircled said warmth's waist. It took a moment to him realize it was Poland that was on him, it took even longer to realize he needed to the move the sleeping blond from him. First, he tried to separate their legs, hoping not to wake him, but he had to stop his movements when Poland began to stir.

A sleepy voice broke through his internal conflict, "Why are you holding me?"

He quickly removed his arms from around him. "You're the one on top of me..."

"Oh..." Poland still didn't move.

Germany slowly sat up, enticing a grumble from the Pole. He gently moved him from his lap and set him aside on the bed, getting up. Poland didn't complain too much, just watched him sleepily as he went to the bathroom to shower.

Poland watched the bathroom door close from his place in bed and listened as water turn on. Poland sat up and wondered whether he too should get cleaned up, but in the haze of just waking up, time seemed to move much faster and it seemed like only seconds later that Germany was back in the bedroom wearing only a towel. Poland hastily sat on the other side of the bed, his back turned to the almost naked man, hiding the blush that dusted his cheeks and giving him some privacy. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down after sleeping on it.

From behind, Germany couldn't help but notice how much Poland looked like a woman. That long, blond hair that looked silky to the touch and the way his waist curved into slim hips that lead down to a firm little bum— Not that he had ever stared at it when Poland waltzed in and out of his office, or danced around the kitchen, and he especially didn't stare when Poland wore those silly skirts that seemed to always be pulled up too high and displayed smooth, shapely legs.

He tore his thoughts away when Poland turned to face him, his green eyes still hazy with sleep and he yawned cutely as he stood up. Poland stumbled towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower and the make breakfast," he said with a smile and then he was off to his room. He threw off his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the last of his sleepiness. He dried off and padded out of the bathroom just as Germany passed his room. The German's face was on fire, his eyes locked on Poland's naked body.

Poland was unaware of him as he shifted through his closet, looking for clothes. Germany silently watched him get dressed, until finally he cleared his throat.

The Pole turned to face him. "Oh! How long were you there?" He quickly pulled on some pants that hugged his legs snugly.

He paused for a moment, and then said with a slight smile, "You should shut the door when you're changing." Without another word, he walked away, leaving the Pole to glare at him.

"I don't have a door, you buttface!" He yelled after him and stomped his foot.

All the German did was laugh softly and keep walking into his office.

Poland glared at the door, before stomping off to the kitchen to brew that silly German some coffee. He took it upon himself to make breakfast; some simple toasted sweet bread would be wonderful with black coffee. Plus, he didn't feel like making anything too extravagant. With two mugs on one hand and a plate in the other, he let himself into Germany's office.

"Coffee?" He held out one of the mugs.

Germany looked up at him in surprise. "Yes. Thank you."

"I also brought some toast, if you want some, I can always eat it," he mumbled through a mouth full of bread.

He rolled his eyes and helped himself to a piece of toast. "Thank you for bring this," Germany said before turning back to his work.

Poland just waved a hand and leaned forward to look at the paper he was reading, only to find that it written in German; a language that he could neither speak nor read. "What are you working on?"

"War plans," he answered bluntly.

"Oh..." He looked away, thinking of the war.

"It's nothing important," Germany said, glancing up at him, mistaking his avoidance as trying to be considerate of his nation's privacy.

He answered him with a quickly smile and said, "It's not like I can read it anyway."

Germany gave a small smile. "Ja, ja."

"Well I'm going to, like, go do something... I'm going to clean! Yeah, that's what I'll go do." He laughed nervously, and then all but ran out of the office.

The German was left staring after him in confusion, before standing and following him out. He found the smaller man sitting with his hands pressed against his eyes and his face twisted with pain. "What are you doing?"

He jumped and quickly moved his hands to look at him. "Uh... Cleaning?"

Germany frowned and said, "Is that a question or an answer?"

"An answer," he said quickly.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why'd you come out? Are you hungry?" Poland was obviously trying to steer him away from the subject, but Germany was going to let it go so easily.

"What were you doing?"

"Sitting down, I can't clean an already spotless house," he said teasingly, trying to smile convincingly.

"You were doing something." The frown wouldn't leave his face as he stared intensely at the Pole.

Poland pouted at him and said, "Is it not possible to sit and do nothing? Do you work even when you're sitting?"

"Yes."

He smiled at him and tried again, "Would you like something to eat? Is that why you're not like, trapped in your office?"

Germany mumbled, "I am never trapped in my office..."

"I can practically hear your soul screaming to get out from under all that paper work," Poland answered, giving him a pointed look.

He had to cough to cover the laugh that threatened to escape his throat. He refused to laugh at the strange ways of the Pole.

"My soul does not scream," he said stiffly once he composed himself.

"Then it squeaks." Poland smiled at him

"No," he said simply, the corners of his mouth twitched into something that could be called a smile.

Poland just laughed. "What are you doing out of your cage then?"

He chose to ignore that little comment. "I'm taking the day off."

The smaller man gasped. "Really?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

The Polish man grinned at him. "Let's play then"

Germany frowned. "Play what?"

"Games, of course," he said like it was the most obvious thing.

"No."

Poland put his hands on his hips and pouted up at him. "Then what do you want to do?"

He paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then he said, "Close your eyes."

"Why?" Poland looked at him warily, more than distrustful of the country who invaded his lands.

"Just do it," Germany ordered.

He figured if he was going to get rid of him, he would have done it by now. So, reluctantly, Poland closed his eyes. "Are you going to take me somewhere? Will it be fun?"

"Ja." Germany put his hand on the small of his back.

Shivers ran up his spine and he tried not to tense at the sudden touch. "Well this sucks. Anything you find fun must stink."

"Why is that?"

"Because it must be something like paperwork— Please don't make me do paperwork!"

Germany didn't have to hide the small smile that graced his lips. "I guess you'll just have to find out." Without another word, he led Poland through the house and out the back, never removing his hand from his back.

Any good? Gefallen means please (According to GoogleTranslate) But I have a well versed in German who told me what it really meant. You wouldn't believe how embarrassed I was when I tried to use it on her without knowing what it meant.

-Windy