Our After-Battle Ritual

A Twizardck Production

I do not own Hetalia

Birthday Update Fest – Number 11

Another one of my OTP's… Aren't they just adorable! Enjoy and review please!

I felt the swaying motion beneath me, felt a comforting sort of movement that was so familiar… So familiar but I couldn't place it. Left. Right. Left. Right. Walking. That was it. I was being carried on someone's back. And once that was established, I knew there could only be one person who would do this. One person who would carry me away from the battlefield.

Smiling, I lifted my head and interlaced my fingers, tightening my grip so that most of my weight was on his shoulders and not tangling up his legs and making him stagger. I breathed in and out slowly, watching a stray flip of blonde hair quiver with my action.

Slowly, the pain started to bleed into every part of my body, and I involuntarily groaned. I had been beaten up pretty badly this time. I had never seen my opponent, but I had heard things. I wondered why this other nation wouldn't show up to fight the battles. Secretly I was glad. Another nation could hurt me far more than a bunch of foot soldiers.

The steps of my companion abruptly stopped and I was dumped unceremoniously on my bottom. He turned to face me and I found myself staring up into his smoldering emerald eyes. I gulped. He was not pleased.

"Do I put you through all that training for nothing?" His voice came out in a shout, the bark of an angry wild dog. I watched his hands ball into fists at his sides. "Do you just not pay attention?"

I flinched back, then regretted it as every wound I had sustained began to throb. "I'm just not good at it like you…" I let my voice trail off, the perfect end to my lame answer.

He rolled his eyes and looked away, hands folding over his chest. "If you practiced like you were supposed to and didn't spend all your time playing music you wouldn't have such a problem."

My bottom lip quivered. "But Switzerland –" His glare cut me off.

I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and all of a sudden I was horrified that it was there. What would he think of me if I cried? Already I had disappointed him. I didn't want to appear any more of a weakling, not after all he had done for me…

But my crying seemed to have the opposite effect. Instead of turning away in disgust and professing that I was useless and hopeless and all sorts of trouble, his face softened. "Austria," he said softly, and as he walked towards me and rummaged in his badly-stitched pockets for something he appeared fully engrossed in worry.

All of a sudden Switzerland was sitting next to me and handing over a scratchy handkerchief of rather cheap wool, but a handkerchief all the same. The gesture made me smile and I silently wiped away the embarrassing water slowly making its way down my face.

We sat that way for a while, me still miserable from the pain but intensely happy that Switzerland was no longer angry with me. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. But eventually he got up and kneeled down, his back to me.

Slowly, unsure if I was reading the situation properly, I climbed onto his back. My fingers found each other and twined together and I rested my head against his. We started off again.

"You really are a bother," he said eventually. "I always have to go and help you after you lose."

A weak laugh escaped my lips and I leaned closer to his ear. "Yes, I'm a bother, but I'm not worried. You are always here for me, so I can be your bother. And you'll always be here to help me, so I know that I'll never have to worry.

He laughed too; a rare thing and I felt myself enjoying its tingling quality. I tried to ignore the strain behind it, tried not to realize that he was worried about having to pick me up off the ground after every one of the many skirmishes that I lose. It would wear on him eventually.

But for now I was resting on his back and we were laughing and all was well.

And the same thing would happen next time. And again. And again. And again until he would get fed up with me and leave. I prayed that wouldn't happen soon.

I wasn't ready for things not to be the same.