Vienna, December 1865

Francis' eyes stung in the winter air as he bundled his coat collar closer to ears. His boots were dry but the cold numbed his toes, crawled up his legs and bit his gloved fingers. The bag Francis carried dug into his shoulder, even as he shifted its weight.

Few daylight hours remained peeked through the overcast, winter Vienna sky, allowing the already cold air to become bitter as the sun set under the murky grey clouds. Francis vaguely wished to drop a few hot stones into his boots like Ivan had shown him once; Poor countries were always the most clever.

"What is taking that hoodlum so long?" Roderich complained beside him. His delicate fingers were wrapped in the finest, softest doeskin, and his nose was pink from the wind and probably a touch of outrage.

"Please hush," Francis replied loftily, "You've kept us waiting longer and in worse weather."

Roderich spluttered and Francis rolled his eyes.

"FRANCIS. RODERICH."

A familiar voice echoed from an alleyway, and the older countries turned in unison to see a shock of blond hair bouncing across the courtyard. Francis smiled as Alfred clumsily dodged a few young children who tied ice skates to their feet.

The wind was made sharper as it traveled over the frozen pond where Francis and Roderich waited nearby. Screams of laughter traveled with the flow as couples sped by on wooden skates and parents worried from the shore.

Francis had a sting of secondhand embarrassment when he saw the state of Alfred's coat; What was probably once a fine fur collar was now flat and well-worn, and the edges were fringing and fading. His boots were equally as faded, if not more so.

There were still dark circles under his eyes, but blue shined the brightest Francis had seen from Alfred in five years. Francis shot Roderich a warning glare as the aristocrat was openly scrutinizing Alfred's attire.

"I'm sorry!" Alfred gasped, struggling with the heavy air in his lungs, "I found a sweets shop and I had to stop." He proudly displayed a brown paper bag which still steamed with Alfred's bounty, "I got you both something."

"That's awfully considerate of you, Alfred," Francis said through his scarf, still a little taken aback when Alfred shoved a plum jam turnover into his hand.

"Hurry while they're still warm," Alfred said excitedly, and Roderich graciously accepted an apple strudel with the same puzzled expression as Francis.

"Apricot dumplings. Apricots!" For a moment Alfred looked like a child as he ate his dumpling, and his face flushed with pure joy, "You won't believe what I have to show you Francis," He explained as he ate, "I think this is going to be big, even if my people didn't think so."

Francis glanced out to the pond speckled with skaters, placated from the cold by his turnover, "I'm afraid winter games were never an area of expertise ..."

"No, but art is," Alfred positively glowed. He tilted his head toward the frozen pond and grinned, "Did you bring your skates?"

Roderich spoke, nibbling his strudel, "I'm afraid I must decline. Strenuous activity always has an adverse affect on my health."

"Perspiring is not adverse, it is a sign that you have left your study recently," Francis sniped back with little patience for Roderich's 'delicate constitution'. He enjoyed an offended splutter, "I brought mine," He said to Alfred, patting the bag on his shoulder.

"Let's go then!" Alfred dragged Francis to a nearby bench so they could change their footwear,

"Make sure you're watching, Roderich," He called as they left.

"What has you excited?" Francis asked when they made their way onto the ice. He wobbled a bit, stretching his arms to balance, and rather gracelessly dug his blades into the ice.

"One of mine has been making some old codgers a little more disgruntled than usual," Alfred explained. He whipped his head around, clearly searching for something near the center of the pond.

When Francis tripped again Alfred shot out an arm to help him stand steadily. Francis released an embarrassed huff of air, but let Alfred keep his hand on his elbow.

"Keep your back straight," Alfred instructed kindly, "I haven't had time to follow him, but I heard he came to Europe recently and wanted to point him out. I think you'll like him ." He glanced over Francis' shoulder at Roderich in the distance, who was following the pair alongside the pond.

Alfred waved jauntily, and the dark silhouette of Roderich waved back.

"I do not really understand," Francis replied placidly. His breath puffed out as mist as he slowly gained his footing. Occasionally a more confident skater would speed by and he would wobble again.

"I'll show you when you get steady."

They slowly circled the edge of the pond, Alfred carefully leading Francis closer to the middle as they inched passed couples and shrieking children and snowball fights on the shoreline. Snow sprinkled on their cheeks, covering the trail of track marks they painted, only for the powder to be sliced through again.

Soon enough Francis didn't need to lean to stand, and was pleased with himself when he found a rhythm that didn't hurt his ankles.

"Can you go into the center? I can see him." Alfred sped ahead a few feet and skated backwards, watching Francis with a bright grin.

"Braggart," Francis said without gall, "Yes, go slowly."

The pond was large enough that Francis hadn't noticed from a distance, taking the center of the pond was a dark-haired man with the muscular figure of an athlete. He sketched designs into the ice with loose, fluid motions of his legs and graceful leaps, seemingly unhindered by his heavy winter clothing.

Most people stayed rigid as they skated, arms neatly behind their backs. Francis' eyes narrowed as he recognized several of the turns as the expressive gestures from his ballets.

"Who is that?"

Alfred looked like he would burst with excitement, "That's Mister Haines. He was a ballet dancer but took up ice skating."

"He is dancing on the blades," Francis said with awe, watching Haines crouch low and spin.

"That's why my people didn't like it. They don't think he's disciplined enough. England didn't like him either," Alfred gnawed his lip, peering down at Francis in the dimming light, "Do you like it?" he asked with the tone of someone who trying not show he wanted approval but in fact, did, "I've never seen anything like it."

Francis remained silent for a few moments as they circled the man who took up the center of the pond, "I think it is beautiful, Alfred," he replied when he looked up at his young companion, "Why did you bring Roderich?"

Alfred flushed and started looking for Roderich on the shoreline, "Oh! He dances to waltzes. Austrian waltzes!" Eyes bright and eager, he asked excitedly, "Do you think Roderich could help him find a niche? Roderich likes unique things and this is just that."

"I think once Roderich sees him he will be very pleased," Francis said with a smile, "I would be glad to do you a favor anyway, after that turnover."

Alfred blinked in confusion momentarily before laughing lightly, "Oh, that. If turnovers get favors from you then I'll buy you a hundred."

Francis wasn't entirely sure Alfred knew what he was saying, so he settled for touching the small of Alfred's back and urging him back to the shore. He was becoming tired.

"Have you been feeling better?" Francis asked.

Alfred's energy settled a little as he let Francis lead them over the ice. The air was chilling even further as night fell, "Yes," he said shortly, "I've been needing a distraction so I came to Europe.

My bosses weren't pleased after April and all..." he chuckled sadly, "I'll be okay."

"We always are," Francis agreed, "Roderich has his hands full with Gilbert right now, but I am sure he would be glad to humor you once he sees what he is getting."

The pair stumbled onto the snowy bank, waddling ungracefully to a bench to remove their skates. Roderich approached them after a few minutes as Francis was carefully packing his skates into his bag.

"Did you see, Roderich?" Alfred asked as Roderich primly sat next to them.

Roderich looked out to the ice and sniffed, considering, "I saw someone leaping into the air," Roderich said thoughtfully, nodding toward the pond, "It was quite noticeable and flamboyant. I am not sure what that has to do with me."

"I've found someone who skates to ballet and waltzes," Alfred replied, excited once again.

Roderich raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

Francis leaned forward and flashed a smile, "It seems an introduction is in order. Roderich, I know you will be interested. It is a shame you did not see closely."

"Yes, well, the sport of ice skating was always Tino's forte," Roderich replied primly. He shivered and adjusted his scarf to cover his nose, "I am chilling. I suggest we return and I will serve some hot tea."

"As opposed the cold kind," Francis quipped, "Will you join us, Alfred?"

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, down the alleyway where he had originally emerged, "That sounds great, Roderich, Francis,"

The older men nodded and started walking. Alfred hesitated but followed, "Francis, may I ask something of you?"

Francis slowed his steps so he and Alfred a few paces behind Roderich, "Yes?"

Alfred smiled sheepishly, "I sort of couldn't afford to find a place for the night, here. Would you mind...?"

Francis laughed, voice echoing against the smooth plains the fresh snowfall provided, "Of course, dear Alfred, you may accompany me home."

Alfred visibly relaxed and quirked a slight smile, "I'll consider it repayment for the turnover and skating lesson."

Francis shifted his coat's collar and peered beside him, "I am afraid you are not nearly as sweet as plums," he said, carefully placing the right touch of mischievousness into his voice.

Alfred smirked, "I've grown a lot in the last few years."

Roderich's voice suddenly reached them, "This American," he called, "What is his name?"

Alfred perked and started to jog forward, but not before reaching for Francis' gloved hand and offering his fingers a light squeeze and a glance.

"Jackson Haines..."

Francis looked at the footprints ahead of him left by Roderich and Alfred, and smiled.

.

.

.

Notes:

Jackson Haines moved to Europe in 1865 to show off is sick new style of ice skating. America and England disliked it, but Austria would would go crazy for his style of skating that was adapted from his ballet moves and performed to waltzes.

Haines also adapted skates to have the blades nailed to the shoe, instead of tied.

Abraham Lincoln was shot April 1865. Alfred had just got out of the Civil War that January, which is why I wrote him as tired and not entirely put-together.

The earliest evidence of ice skating is from Finland.

Prussia had taken over Austria's government again, but the Austrians were not pleased and putting up a fuss. The 1860's were actually very rough for all the Germanic countries and would leave their governments weak and divided for the following 90 years (The Germanic countries were poor compared to the rest of Europe but they were determined to try their hand at Imperialism and... well, they thought they were better than they were).

Germany was the new baby country around this time.

My head canon is that Francis and Roderich are mostly friendly with each other, but only in small doses. They piss each other off but appreciate each others' artistic abilities.

I ship FrUS with the power of 1000 suns.

And then they banged.