A/N: Well, first off, I freakin' love Austria x Hungary!! BEST. COUPLE. EVAR. *drools* So, of course I'm writing them a story! ^^

Yes, the title comes from the song with the same name, but the song has nothing to do with this story. ^^; You'll see why I picked the title...eventually.

Don't own Hetalia. Dur. If I did, I would be able to draw and wouldn't have written this fic, I would've put my Austria/Hungary -ness in the real thing ;)

Reviews = awesome points. Flames = campfire songs {all are welcome to join ^^}


She pressed her forehead to the wall and forced herself to breathe. The grey bricks, coupled with the grey light of early morning, made her predicament and her tiny room seem all the more grim.

Not that it was anything different than her usual predicament. Work, work, work, all day, and get nothing for it.

"Elizaveta?" A knock accompanied the quiet voice.

"Ugh, whatever. Come in."

The door creaked open and a tiny figure in a green dress walked in. "Where've you been? We gotta get breakfast started."

"Right. Thanks, Feliciano." She snatched a ribbon off of the crate she used as a table and tied her hair back. With a brisk air of superiority, she took Feliciano's hand and made her way to the kitchen. Sadly, the poor kid was never much help, since Italy couldn't quite reach anything.

But Elizaveta had learned to compensate for this, and had breakfast ready in time, although it wasn't breakfast for her. Like most days, her rebellious streak nearly took over and she was tempted to suggest eating the feast with Italy.

"Hungary?" Her master's voice called from the adjoining dining room. "Have you forgotten my breakfast?"

I sure wish I had, she thought, grabbing the tray of food and kicking the kitchen door open. The door banged against the wall, bouncing back and forth several times with the force of the blow. The noise caused the lone man at the table to look up from his newspaper in surprise, not in the shock she'd expected.

His brown hair was tousled as always, his glasses had obnoxiously slipped down his nose again. His brown eyes were filled with restrained emotion as he studied her defiant and somewhat anxious expression. Of course he studied her. That was all he cared about:

His piano,

His books,
His money.

"No, in fact," Elizaveta snapped, "I haven't forgotten."

"Good." He went back to reading his paper, then looked up again suddenly when he realized that she hadn't moved. "Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Maybe."

"Why do you keep testing me like this?" He set the newspaper down and rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped. "You know it doesn't work."

"I have no reason to obey you."

"We go through this every day: yes, you do."

"We go through this every day," she mimicked, "I won't work for a man I don't respect."

He was no longer paying attention. The lecture had gotten old before she'd given it the first time.

"Well, Mr. Austria," she hissed, coming so close as she walked by that her breath grazed his cheek, "I'm off to clean up your crap." She stopped at the door, smirking. "Literally."

He tried not to pale at this newest horror from the girl's lips. Sometimes, she was much more trouble than she was worth.

*

Elizaveta rolled her eyes as she rolled her sleeves up again. Austria was playing his stupid piano {she could hear it from across the entire freaking house} and she was scrubbing this floor that no one ever saw…except Austria, when he had the mind to inspect it.

Suddenly, over the obnoxious piano music, she heard sobbing. Without any warning, Feliciano ran into the hallway and grabbed onto Elizaveta and proceeded to wet her dress with tears.

"Umm…what's wrong?" Elizaveta ventured, attempting sympathy.

"Holy…Roman…Empire…" Feliciano choked, "…gone."

"Oh." Well, that explained it. The two of them had been having their little love thing going on for the past few weeks. Of course Italy would be having some head trauma without him.

"What's going on?" Now Austria stood in the hallway, staring down at Elizaveta, who was kneeling on the floor clutching the bawling Feliciano to her chest. "You two have work to do."

"I do." Elizaveta stood up, still holding Feliciano. "But Feliciano doesn't."

"Why not? Surely you cannot do all the work by yourself…"

"I can, and I will. And for your information, the kid has lost the one person that ever cared about her, so give 'er a break."

"Ah…well, then," Austria said awkwardly, "I think I'll give her the day off."

Feliciano took this opportunity to break free of Elizaveta's grasp and run away to some other part of the house. Elizaveta grabbed her bucket full of water that she'd been using to clean the floors with and started to walk away as well.

"Hungary, wait!" Austria said.

"What?"

"I…um…where are you going?"

"Kitchen. Gotta clean up your breakfast and start on your lunch, you know."

"Um…well, I'd like to help."

The bucket almost dropped right out of Elizaveta's grasp. "You what?"

"I wanna help."

"Well, that's peculiar." She paused to let a playful smirk slip across her face. "But sure."

He followed her to the kitchen, standing there awkwardly while she dumped out the dirty water and threw some dishes into the oversized sink. Hungary began to wash said dishes. Finally, Austria walked over to her, still feeling awkward. "Um…what should I do?"

"Help me," she said. "But roll up your stupid sleeves first. You're gonna get crap all over your fancy clothes if you aren't careful." She laughed and rolled up his sleeves for him.

"Um…I could've done that myself."

"You usually don't mind me doing things for you."

"Sorry," he muttered, turning away. "I was only trying to help."
"Get back here," Elizaveta said, her voice suddenly authoritative. He turned to face her again, making her expression soften. "I do appreciate it."

And as she worked side by side with Austria, she would cast glances at him, smiling inwardly at his determined expression. Had he ever done hard work in his life? She didn't think so. And yet here he was, trying his hardest to help her out.

Suddenly, she realized something.