Waking up, Gilbert first saw Roderich's face. The bags under his eyes had Gilbert wondering how well Roderich had been sleeping as of late, considering all that had happened. Foremost, there was the trouble that Gilbert was going to be deployed soon. That fact loomed over the two, and Gilbert could tell that the news had Roderich on edge. Gilbert hadn't been planning on telling the man-he had found out somehow. After they talked about it, Roderich seemed to change even more: his head hung lower than usual, and his anxiety had spiked to a level far exceeding Gilbert's own.
Roderich was stronger than one would expect, being a well-schooled young man who spent all his time practicing music. For all the times Gilbert had called him a "priss" and a "sissy boy" when they were younger, he was hardly cowardly. After all, he wasn't afraid to stay in Germany when things started to go downhill. He braved the possibility of being seen, of being captured by the enemy. He was a bit too brave at times, as he still went into town, many times without permission. But, the town was only a walk away, and Gilbert was content to find that he wandered no further. Roderich had confined himself to Germany; remaining within the country posed an obvious risk, but trying to leave it would fare worse.
Gilbert glanced down to Roderich's neck. The man was so stubborn. Capture weighed heavy on his mind, producing weeks of nightmares, but there remained his Star, kept loose around his neck. Gilbert, despite his concern for Roderich, felt as though empathy was impossible. It was enough that he couldn't even begin to fathom the loss of family, friends, and associates implied, but he had joined the very ranks of his oppressors. He was, no matter what he tried, the Wehrmacht's soldier, and any attempts at comfort seemed futile. None of this had been his decision; Gilbert had protested the draft, but his grandfather, a veteran himself, urged pride in their country, and therefore in the Wehrmacht. Ludwig was proud; Gilbert had been initially proud. It was a sore realization to see the truth.
He shifted his eyes and found Roderich's open, caught in some unspoken fear. Gilbert frowned. It was as though Roderich was incapable of articulating anything other than distaste. "Vhat?" Gilbert asked, expecting a jolt from the Austrian in his arms.
"There is someone here," Roderich replied in German, having favored the language ever since the propaganda had begun. It usually put him in most people's favor, since a person couldn't exactly be determined as an "undesirable" just by their appearance; unaccented German convinced most people of his "purity." Roderich's religious practices, so often a reason for his fussing, were no longer seen, let alone mentioned. Roderich had only fussed about his practices before any of the propaganda had taken over, and had now committed himself to avoiding them. Though he hesitantly looked at his food each time it was put before him, he would eat it with no further questions.
Gilbert pursed his lips. Either way, Roderich was paranoid and jumpy now, and being locked up in this house with his sulky grandfather was no help. "Look, it is probably no one," Gilbert replied in English, suddenly accustomed to it. The Italians had him speaking it, just from listening to their conversations with West. He didn't switch languages, instead pressing on in English to show Roderich that there was no cause for worry.
Roderich didn't look so convinced; he strained to hear the voices downstairs. Gilbert sighed and reached over to the bedside table, grabbing Roderich's glasses and then shoving them onto his face. Roderich pushed his hands away angrily. "I am going to go downstairs. Are you hungry? I vill bring you some food,"
Roderich rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking annoyed. "Fine," he said, still in German, "be quick about it. And I can put my glasses on myself."
"You did not take zem off by yourself," Gilbert replied, grinning back at him and moving to get dressed. As he started towards the kitchen, the voices became clearer, and he heard a familiar Spanish accent drifting through the door.
"I haven't seen you in years and this is how you greet me!?"
"Is that Antonio I see!?" called Gilbert, grinning already. "Everyone is visiting today!"
"Amigo!" Antonio hugged his friend tightly, with Gilbert returning the embrace.
They pulled away, still grinning. "Vhat are you doing here?" asked Gilbert, looking over his friend. He didn't look like some pesky farm boy anymore. He was still as tan as before, but his face seemed hardened. There were features Gilbert hadn't seen before: a few scars here and there, noticeable near his eyes, all giving away his involvement in the war.
"Passing through," replied Antonio, smiling cheerily.
Gilbert laughed. "No von just 'passes through' Deutschland anymore, zat is a zing of ze past," As he spoke, his smile tightened, and he could see his own troubled expression reflected in Antonio's.
"Eh," Antonio grabbed at a beer, then put his arm around an Italian nearby, "this is my Italian, the one I told you about!" He grinned.
"Is it!?" Gilbert stuck his hand out, then took it back, laughing. "Vait, I already met him. But really!? Vhat a small world," he commented, looking over the pouty Italian. He motioned towards the other one. "Zat one is stuck to Vest like glue," he said.
Antonio smiled, looking back Ludwig. "That's good, usually he would be afraid of him," he said.
Gilbert shrugged, putting a beer to his lips. "It does not seem like it, though I do not know what he sees in that muscle-bound, battle-crazy guy," He glanced at Ludwig, smirking to himself. "Earlier he vas lecturing him about eating on the battlefield."
Antonio laughed now, his hand working twists in his Italian's pants. Lovino sat there, eyebrow twitching, his jaw set, and tried not to look directly at Gilbert. It looked like Antonio just wanted to hold his Italian, and stroke his hair, but he withheld his desires. Gilbert pushed a thumb to his lip, eyebrows knitted.
"Gilbert?" Antonio blinked. Gilbert looked up at him, blinking away troublesome thoughts. "You must be maturing," he said, grinning, "I said, Ludwig really dedicates himself to his work, huh?"
Giving his friend a befuddled look, Gilbert nodded, shifting. "Ja, zat is how he has always been," he answered, still musing over his friend's earlier comment.
He didn't notice the silence until Antonio broke it. "Is something bothering you?" he asked, his smile disappearing.
"Bothering me?" Gilbert repeated, squinting at Antonio. "No! I am normal," he said, and to prove it, he gave his friend a grin. Antonio smiled back, but he looked worried. Gilbert frowned. He didn't like this. Usually when his friend came over, they had fun, got drunk, had a good time. If anything was bothering him, it was this change in behavior. "Quit looking at me like zat. Do I have somezing on my face?" He gave his face a good, hard rub. "Vhat? You need more beer. Ve need more beer."
He went to gather more, drinking until he had his friend rather drunk. There was an easy smile on Antonio's face, and a sway to his actions. Gilbert didn't notice this in himself until the table suddenly flew up towards his face.
He saw his hands push into his vision, catching him only by last-minute instinct. "Whoa," Antonio laughed, "be careful, amigo, amigito, amigo..."
A laugh escaped Gilbert's throat, as if he'd been holding it in, but by the look on his grandfather's face, their laughter had gotten a little loud lately. The world spun as he moved his fists towards the ceiling, stretching until he heard a satisfying, wet pop in his back. "Yeeeeaaah! Zat is good," he said, sitting down again to conversation. It was interrupted only as Roderich hesitantly looked into the room.
"Roderich!" cried Antonio, laughing and waving at the other.
Roderich relaxed, his shoulders dropping at the sight of friendly company. "Antonio," he breathed, as if his chest were constricted, "it ist nice to see you. How have you been?"
Gilbert took another drink from his beer, moving only when the Austrian finally settled his stare on him. He snickered, swinging to his feet, "I vas supposed to get him food. If you are hungry, Antonio, zere ist food in ze kitchen."
Antonio waved his hand, saying, "Gracias. I am happy here, with Lovino." He gave his Italian a stupid grin, and Gilbert felt his smile widen at it.
He strutted into the kitchen, holding onto whatever was on hand in order to keep himself up. "You are not really that drunk, are you?" Roderich asked in German, aiming to have a private conversation. Though, Antonio understood German, and at this volume, would certainly hear them.
"No, I am just having fun," Gilbert's fingers jabbed through glass cups, rolling one out into his palm. He turned and found Roderich staring at the glass. "Vhat? You are not zirsty?" Roderich grumbled and rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "I said I am sorry, all right," Gilbert groaned, turning back to the cupboard and stuffing the glass back into it. In the back of his mind, he wondered if anything had cracked, considering the noise his glass had made.
"You certainly did not," Roderich said, frowning, "and my nose does not hurt anymore, this is simply what people with glasses do."
"So should I put beer in your tea?" Gilbert held up a kettle, grinning. "Or did you not want tea either, because you are not thirsty?"
"Give me that," Roderich jerked the kettle away from Gilbert, adjusting his glasses and putting the kettle on the stove. "You do not do well with the kettle, anyway."
"Vhat!? Zere is nothing to it, all you do is boil some leaves," Gilbert groaned. "And the strainer thing."
Roderich didn't reply, working over his kettle. Gilbert blew air from his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line as he stared at the other's back. His gaze fell, dropping to the Austrian's bent knee. The other male stood as though he was in pain. Gilbert took a deep breath, then crossed the kitchen. "Did I hurt you or somezing?" he asked, putting his hands on the Austrian's waist and looking down at his knee.
"Vhat?" Roderich's tone softened. "Hm? No, it just feels better when I do this." He looked down at his knee and placed his foot flat on the ground.
"Vhy are you all pissed off?" Gilbert grinned and Roderich glared back at him. "Vere you really zat hungry?"
"You were taking too long," Roderich said, staring at the kettle. "You are still taking too long," he commented, turning back and finding Gilbert's hands empty.
"Ach, okay already," Gilbert turned away, starting to serve the Austrian. After a period of silence, Gilbert continued. "So, vhat, did you zink zat somevon stole me?"
"I could hear your noisy voice after a while," Roderich answered, in his usual, vague manner. Gilbert gave the other's back a look, but smiled. That was a yes in its own way.
The kettle whistled and Roderich started, despite having obviously expected it: his tea cup was held at the ready. After serving himself, he moved wordlessly out of the kitchen, and Gilbert followed him with his plate.
"Veeee are going to bed, Antonio," Gilbert said, leaning over the table to pick up his beer and drink what was left of it. "I vill see you tomorrow, right?" He gave his friend a pat on the back, looking down at him.
Antonio nodded, smiling. "I'll be here in the morning," he confirmed, and turned to look at Lovino. The Italian looked vaguely like he'd just seen a bug crawl. "Buenas noches," Antonio said, smiling back up at Gilbert.
"Yeah, yeah, goodnight," Gilbert patted his back again, grinning, and turned to face Roderich. "Goodnight, Vest! Großvater!" He waved at them, only getting a look or a nod from each of them. Roderich said his goodnight's, too, and then the two of them were off upstairs.
"Ach, I am always going to bed early because of you," Gilbert said, closing the door after Roderich, "it is not like you have anything to do in the morning."
Roderich looked back at him, but turned back to the bed shortly. He sat down, drinking some of his tea. "Vhy are you not eating at the desk? Vhy are you eating at my bed?" Gilbert set the other's plate down on his desk. "Come drink your tea over here."
The other got up, moving to the desk with his tea cup to his lips. He sat down, setting down his cup delicately. Gilbert watched him, waiting to see any hesitation before moving onto the bed himself.
He groaned. "I will be here if you need me," he said, face buried in the covers. He took in their scent, pleased to find that his own hadn't masked Roderich's. He glanced back at Roderich for a second, shrugging when the other chose to focus on his meal instead of trying conversation. Gilbert turned back to the covers, laying his cheek into them again and waiting.
The silence thickened. With the lack of conversation, Gilbert ended up dozing off.
Gilbert had his nose buried in soft, Austrian hair when Ludwig knocked on his door. Usually he ignored each knock, but he was so comfortable, even with Roderich's glasses poking at him, that he figured this was around the second or third knock. It certainly sounded like it.
"Bruder! Bruder, wake up! This is no time for slacking! If you want to eat, you had better wake up now! We are going to be late!"
The Austrian in his arms was shifting, changing position, but he seemed just as far gone as Gilbert. He looked tired, as if this was the most sleep he'd gotten all week.
It probably helped that whenever Gilbert came, Roderich got a little exercise. Gilbert snickered and Roderich opened his eyes, staring at Gilbert's chest. "See? You never take your glasses off," said Gilbert.
Roderich turned away, towards the night table. "This is your fault."
"My fault!?" Gilbert cried, suddenly sitting up in bed. "How is it my fault!?"
"I was tired after eating, so as opposed to changing into my night clothes and taking off my glasses, I got into bed and fell asleep."
"But you asked for the food," Gilbert grumbled.
"I did not." Roderich had his hands under his pillow. "How much time do you have left?" he asked.
"Ludwig is going crazy at my door, so I guess, not a lot." Gilbert looked at his door, frowning slightly.
"Then I suppose you had better get dressed." Their eyes dropped to the Wehrmacht uniform on the floor. Roderich moved to get it, but Gilbert jumped out of bed first and started dressing.
"Well, however much time we have left, Ludwig usually has us in way early, so I think I still have plenty of time." Gilbert got onto the bed again, smirking. "So let us sleep some more."
"That uniform is much too uncomfortable for me, so please, at least leave the jacket off." Gilbert quickly shed the jacket and put his arms around Roderich, kissing him suddenly. Eyes closed, Roderich kissed him back, his hand moving to cup Gilbert's arm.
Between men, one would think a kiss felt rough and unnatural, as if it weren't supposed to happen and someone was rubbing sandpaper together, but Roderich's lips were soft and inviting, making small, pleasant sounds as they were kissed. Even when Gilbert climbed on top of him, they were still inviting, and so that was all they did, fingering clothes and the skin under them but never quite peeling them away. As the embrace wound down, Gilbert began to run his lips along Roderich's skin, making him quiver.
Roderich had his eyes closed, so Gilbert kept his voice low. "Hey," he said. Roderich didn't move. "I am going to go."
At that, Roderich opened his eyes. "Right now?"
"Ja." Gilbert nodded. "Ludwig has already come back a couple of times."
"I will come with you," Roderich said, starting to gather up the covers.
"Just stay here and sleep," Gilbert buttoned up his jacket and started out, smirking back at Roderich as he followed him. "You really cannot do anything without me, can you? Without me, I bet you could not even get my closet open."
"I cannot open it because you break it every time you come!" Roderich scowled at him, walking at his side as they made their way downstairs.
"Amigo!" Antonio called, laughing as his friend walked down the stairs. "It is time for you to go already?"
"Ja, Ludvig has us back before anybody," Gilbert smirked and dropped into a seat, kicking his feet up. Ludwig approached his brother from behind, pulling him from his seat.
"Ve have no time to eat anymore," he said, grabbing Gilbert and moving to gather the other Italian under his arm.
Gilbert worked his way out from under his brother's clenching elbow, slipping out towards Roderich. "I vill only be von second!" he cried, waving back at his brother and then catching Roderich's arms in his hands. He pressed him into a hallway, pushing their lips together again. Gilbert pulled back, looking into Roderich's eyes. "I will be back next Sunday," he said, smiling and pulling away.
Translation:
Note: Anything written with an accent is spoken in English; anything written without an accent is spoken in that character's respective tongue. Since Spanish accents are more of an inflection, they are not written.
Deutschland - Germany.
Ja - Yes.
...amigo, amigito, amigo... - Antonio is simply referring to Gilbert as "friend" here; the -ito ending is a diminutive implying smallness or affection.
Gracias - Thank you.
Buenas noches - Good night.
Großvater - Grandfather.
Bruder - Brother.
Wehrmacht - The German army
