"Perhaps," sighed Ludwig, all feeling practically burnt out of his hands by hot porcelain, "this wasn't the best of ideas."
"Oh, do be quiet and stop complaining," complained Austria, plopping on the couch next to him. Ludwig steadied the mug as he sat, ensuring nothing but the safest of grips on his cocoa. "It can't be helped that there's no electricity."
The middle of winter, and it had to rain. The German grumbled and took a sip from his cup; Roderich gave him a quick look of amusement.
"What did I say about complaining?"
"Can't help it. I'm shut in with you. And Gilbert is off to God-knows-where, probably stuck up to the VW's wheels in mud." He took another, slightly noisier sip, which elicited a snort from the other. "Are you seriously going to correct me on everything I do?"
"Well, you see, I could. But you wouldn't take very kindly to that, would you, Deutschland?"
"No, you're right. I wouldn't." He watched Roderich pick up his own mug, sniff delicately at it, and take a dainty sip. It made him want to say something to refute the earlier teasing, but he wouldn't do it. Not if he wanted to relax, anyway.
It had been his own idea, just a passing remark after all of the electricity had died. What had he even been thinking?
It's a bit cold tonight, don't you think? Could use some hot chocolate and blankets right now.
Only Austria had tossed himself into the equation, and here they were now, two countries sitting on the same couch with mugs resting in their hands, chattering casually with each other.
Lightning flashed outside; Ludwig watched a drop of cocoa slip down the side of his mug. He wiped it off with his hand before it reached the bottom and put it down, his hands finding relief in no longer having to hold hot china. He sat there for a few moments doing nothing but staring at his fingers, so immersed in his study of them that he missed his friend's question.
"—come back?"
"Huh?" He blinked, rubbing his hands together and raising his eyes to Roderich's face. "What were you saying?"
"When do you think Gilbert will come back?" the other repeated.
"Oh. I have no idea, honestly. Knowing him, he'll burst back in at four AM and wake us up, and he's going to have mud all over his raincoat. And he'll have something to tell me, so of course I'll stay up for twenty minutes to listen, and—"
"You two are quite sweet," interrupted the Austrian.
"Sweet?"
"Sweet." He nodded. "I don't know how you can stand him, but you do. And it's splendid, really, to watch you from the background. Always a treat. —Anyway, would that happen to be a quilt under your arm?"
"Huh? Oh. Yes. A quilt."
"Would you mind sharing?" Roderich leaned over to put the mug on the table, pinky holding the bottom so as not to make a single sound.
"No, not at all." Ludwig twisted to the side and pulled at the quilt. In a few minutes, the two of them were comfortably snuggled in it; but, as Roderich's nature was, he found yet another thing disagreeable.
"It's a bit too tight. I'm not getting enough blanket over here."
"Oh, would you just take your advice and shut up for once?" was what Ludwig wanted to say, but he caught himself in time. He was sure that wouldn't go over so well - he'd ruin the atmosphere and gain a small grudge against himself. Instead, he grunted and scooted over a bit.
"Mooooore, Deutschland. I'm freezing my toes off here."
And soon there was no inch of decent space between them, but at least Roderich was happy.
Ludwig sat in silence, enjoying the warmth; there was nothing quite like spending time with your favourite neighbour, even in such close prox—
Neighbour?
Hold on a minute.
He turned to him with a puzzled look. Roderich only returned it.
"Why are you even here? Not to be rude or anything, but your house is right next to mine."
"Oh. Er… that's…" Nervous shuffling. Ludwig watched as he buried his face in the quilt.
"Well?"
"It's… a bit lonely over there. Thought I'd have better luck here. I was right."
"Then act like it, at least. Damn it, stop hiding your face like that, it's bothering me."
"Why must you be bothered? Look away if it irritates you."
"It bothers me because it muffles your speaking and I can't see your face. If you're laughing at me or something, at least I'd like to know."
"I'm not laughing at you."
"Then why not let me see your face?"
A sigh. "Why must you be so insistent? Very well." Slowly, Roderich lifted his head; and for a moment, lightning from outside illuminated the room to reveal a light blush on his face. Ludwig blinked.
"…Pff—"
"See! That's why I didn't want to show you. You're laughing at me," he bemoaned, shoving the lower half of his face back under the quilt.
"I-it's nothing to be embarrassed about, I swear," consoled the German, patting the other's back. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting that. Forgive me a thousand times."
"…Yeah. All right. Okay."
"Really, I mean it."
"Yes, Deutschland. I know."
"If you could say you forgive me—"
He was abruptly cut off by lips being pushed onto his. Roderich drew back, his expression a mixture of annoyance and amusement.
"Yes, Ludwig, I forgive you. Now be quiet."
And Ludwig was quiet for the rest of the night.