SOY: I feel I'm writing all the fluff I have in me with this fic, but at least I'm having fun. What do you think about it?
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Rating: K+.
Warnings: Austria's language style, fluff and crack and sappiness?
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
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Fluttering Chaos
Chapter 04
The dining room at Hungary's house was quite big; the woman had never felt the need to change it, so the feeling one got when entering her residence was of having fallen back in time, right through centuries and back to the early 1500.
Not even the few modern touches here and there –the radiators carefully masked on the walls, the cordless phone in the corner, and some other things– managed to make a difference.
It was almost refreshing, and it put Austria at ease –he'd always appreciated Hungary's taste in décor.
"So, like… what did you call me for?"
Austria pressed one hand on his face and slowly exhaled, eyes carefully close to avoid staring at the two Nations sitting in front of him.
He needed to stay calm and not let this bother him. When he had decided to (in Hungary's words) 'suck it up and act', he had also accepted the fact that he would need help. After all, he wasn't quite knowledgeable in such matters.
With him, things had always moved in a certain way, and during his long life, while he'd had numerous relationships based on the physical aspect, the bonds forged and maintained on stable feelings had been two –Hungary, with whom he'd shared most of his life, and even now was close to, and Prussia, as much as he did not like to admit it.
During their marriage and union, Hungary had been the one to handle things about their relationship, and Austria had followed her pace, although on his own way.
He didn't know how to pursue, and at the most, his dignity would not allow him much leeway.
That was why he was sitting in Hungary's kitchen, facing his former wife and her best friend.
"I… need… your help, Feliks," he stated. Of the two options, talking with Poland felt the safest one. Hungary was still looking at him with that strange glint in her eyes that made Austria feel like a deer about to get shot. "It is… about Feliciano".
"Feli? Like, what about him?" Poland munched on a cookie, carefully nibbling around the creamy centre before eating it last. "Play nice, Roddie!"
Austria's left eyebrow twitched.
"I…"
Hungary, probably realising Austria would reprimand Poland's nickname and things would just deviate into a verbal fight, moved to the side, grabbing the blond Nation's hand into her own and making him look up at her. "What Roderich means to say is that he's fallen for Feli and needs our help with that!"
Poland slowly swallowed a second cookie, taking his time and carefully brushing away the crumbles from his chin, then turned to look at the Austrian Nation with a suspicious gaze. His eyes were narrowed in distrust, and Austria felt vaguely intimidated. "Is that, like, the truth? Do you like Feli, Roddie?"
Flushing in a mix of anger and embarrassment, Austria refused to give in to his desire to run. Running would be demeaning. Instead, he gave an almost invisible nod.
Poland's distrusting attitude did not change. He leaned forwards, pushing his hair back with one hand and keeping eye–contact with Austria as he did so.
"Like, how much?"
"How much what?"
"How much do you like Feli?" he grunted. It was clearly a protective grunt. Austria inwardly rolled his eyes. "You never did give him the eye before, so I, like, have totally the right ta ask you that!"
Austria fought the urge to look away, repeating to himself that Poland had the right to ask, that he was one of Italy's best friends, and that he just wanted to make sure, and took a deep breath.
"I…" it was quite hard to put what he felt in words. His thoughts were not following the usual linear trails, and he didn't quite like it. Yet, he knew it was worth it, in the end. Even possible humiliation was. "My feelings for Feliciano are…"
Poland leaned forwards some more, making Austria recoil.
He found it hard to swallow, with those eyes narrowed at him, waiting for him to speak of his private feelings, and… it was difficult to express himself.
Austria licked his lips and tried again. "What I feel for Feliciano is… I do l–" he stopped again, feeling his heartbeat quicken.
"Is it, like, about sex?" Poland prodded, his frown intensified even more.
"W…. what? N–no!" he screeched; his cheeks couldn't get redder than they were, and he felt completely affronted.
At such an accuse, he couldn't even reply, speechless and–
Then, much to his shock, Poland's seriousness cracked and he started snickering.
The seriousness vanished into nothingness, and Austria felt suddenly unbalanced. What the–
"You should have, like, seen your face! I mean, like, totally fa–bu-lo–us!"
Austria opened his mouth, but was still unable to speak.
"Relax, Roddie, I trust Eli's word that you're madly in love with Feli, but I just had to check for myself, like, really!" Poland smiled proudly.
"T–that is outrageous!" standing up, cheeks aflame, Austria paced away from the two friends, utterly ashamed.
Hungary smiled softly, approaching the Austrian aristocrat and gently patting his shoulder. "You should work on this, Roderich… if you can't even explain your feelings to me and Feliks, how will you express them to Feli?"
Utterly deflated, Austria allowed her to lead him to sit again, mortified and defeated.
She was right. He had no idea on how to proceed, and he needed them.
It took him over five minutes of silence to look up at the two friends, voice quiet as he asked, "will you help me?"
Poland and Hungary smiled warmly at him. "Of course," they assured.
He sighed and nodded, feeling vaguely relieved.
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"Welcome again, Feliciano," Austria opened the door and let Italy in.
The Italian nation smiled brightly at him and bounced inside, chirping a greeting at the older man; once again, he'd been invited for lunch, and Italy was starting to consider it a habit, and a pleasant one.
He liked spending time with Austria, and despite the initial embarrassment and insecurity on what to do once in the same room with him, things had relaxed, and Italy had started to truly enjoy their time together.
"Ve, Roderich, how are the begonias?"
Austria halted his movements and turned towards him, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. "They're growing," he replied, thoughts straying to the flowers Italy had helped him plant.
With practiced ease (or with what he hoped was practiced ease), he placed both of his hands on Italy's shoulders and helped him remove the coat, placing it on the nearby rack; one of the first advices both Poland and Hungary had offered him was to grow accustomed to touching Italy first –brief and casual touches, nothing more, nothing less.
Austria knew that most of his problems with Italy were based on his actions in the past, the barrier he'd put between them, preventing Italy from giving him the same treatment he gave to others (the touching, the hugging and the kissing, mostly), and even though Austria himself wasn't keen on such overly affectionate behaviour, he still longed for it at the same time.
If he started by offering the touches himself, maybe Italy would see that he wanted things to change, and as a result share with Austria his warmth.
Italy probably knew that Austria would never be overly open to casual hugs or kisses in the middle of the street, or when others were around, but fleeting, sweet and brief contacts were perfectly ok.
He would make it so Italy understood.
Italy watched him for a second, then blinked and tilted his head to the side, smiling brightly. "What was that you wanted to do this afternoon?"
"There is an art exhibition in a nearby town," the musician replied, guiding Italy towards the dining room. "I thought that maybe you'd want to come with me".
"Ve~! Is it paintings or sculpture?"
"It is mostly a painting exposition, but I heard there will be a special area completely devoted to renaissance sculptures".
"Sounds splendid!" Italy bounced around happily.
Austria leaned forwards and pressed his hand on the other Nation's shoulder, steering him towards the table and moving the chair for him.
Once again, he tried being inconspicuous, while at the same time wondering if he was making some sort of progress; Italy didn't look like he minded being touched, but at the same time, he didn't seem to have noticed Austria's attempts.
Maybe Hungary and Poland had been right in telling him Italy was quite blind when it came to realising things regarding himself…
Or maybe he was being too subtle.
"Please stay put while I bring in the meal, Feliciano," he stated, forcing his lips upwards in what hoped was a relatively warm smile.
Italy looked at him, a mix of confusion and curiosity, but nodded.
'Ve~ Roderich has been acting strange lately… I hope he's not sick.'
Italy pondered over that subject as Austria moved to the kitchen and returned with two plates; Austrian politics and economy didn't seem bad at all, so maybe it was just Austria being too rough on himself.
His thoughts stopped when his nose picked up the delicious aroma of pasta, and he looked up at Austria with an adoring gaze.
"Ah! You made pasta~! Grazie, Roderich!" the Austrian never did try his hands at Italy's favourite dish, so Italy was positively beaming.
In a clearly unconscious act, Italy leaned forwards and grabbed Austria's hand into his own, squeezing it and waving it up and down; the other Nation's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected (yet definitely not unwanted) touch, and his cheeks coloured.
Maybe they were getting somewhere, after all?
"Ah, Fel–"
Italy froze, and promptly let go of the other Nation's hand, feeling mortified of his own actions. "I–I'm sorry Roderich!" he yelped, hiding both hands under the table, clenched into fists on his lap.
He knew perfectly well that his behaviour wasn't appreciated by Austria, who had always looked down on his affectionate, improper attitude, which was actually why he was usually tense around the Austrian Nation.
While hard to do, he still kept under control his instincts, stopping every time he felt the need to hug, touch or (God forbid) kiss Austria in a sudden rush of happiness.
"No, wait, Feliciano!" frantic now that he'd seen the sudden flash of shame in Italy's eyes, Austria smiled and gently pressed his fingers on Italy's wrist.
It wouldn't look too intimate, yet close enough to satisfy both, he thought.
"Ve?"
"I… I don't mind that," flushed and embarrassed, Austria looked down at the silky tablecloth. It was horribly awkward, yet he needed to make all of this clear.
"As long as you don't hug me or kiss me in public, I can… tolerate this," he emphasised, gently pressing his hand above Italy's and squeezing it. "It is quite… pleasant".
He knew this was rather bold on his part, but he could not stop himself. Maybe Italy would get the hint, maybe he'd become aware that Austria's feelings were not cold nor just 'friendly' in their approach, maybe…
"I'm happy Roderich considers me a friend, finally!"
Austria's thoughts came to a sudden halt. Not exactly what…
He looked at Italy, eyes vaguely wider, saw the warm, bright smile the other was offering him, and decided that for now, this was quite fine already.
With a softer, calmer smile, Italy hesitantly pressed his own fingers over Austria's, quickly retreating, not sure how much he was allowed to prolong the contact.
"I promise you won't regret it, ve~"
Italy meant it –he'd longed to be more open with Austria, just like with his other friends, and had always been a bit envious of the closeness Hungary, Austria and Prussia shared (and at times, even Switzerland, not to mention Germany).
After all, he'd thought the two of them could be close, but all his attempts before had always been rejected and considered unwanted, and Italy had long since accepted that Austria would never allow him close…
Yet, now…
Now, Austria had given him a small hope, again. Maybe things were really looking up… Italy wanted nothing more than show Austria he would not disappoint him.
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"So you, like, invited him over to a museum?"
Austria glanced at Italy, who was currently sitting a few seat away from him, dangling his feet around and watching outside as the bus circled a huge statue in the middle of the street. "It is not a museum, it's an art exhibition".
"Yeah, like, the same thing really," Poland's voice suggested Austria the image of him waving one hand around, rolling his eyes. He sighed. "Still, Feli likes that kind of thing, so I suggest you to do something really nice while you are there".
Austria blinked. Something nice?
"What do you mean?"
"Like, pay his ticket for him, or totally offer him something to drink afterwards," there was a soft scuffle, then some noise.
Hungary's voice replaced Poland's on the other end of the phone. "You're always stingy with money, so if you pay it will be a clear change from your usual attitude!"
Austria's eyebrow twitched, yet he had to relent and admit Hungary was, once again, right; he didn't like spending money, unless in certain occasions or to make himself look good in regards to Switzerland (theirs was a very complex relationship, after all). But would Italy notice this?
He didn't have time to tell the two about his actions during lunch, because the next stop was where they were headed, so with a hushed and polite word, he closed the communication and walked towards Italy.
"Ve~ I'm so happy about this~"
For a moment, the musician wondered whether to agree or make a passing comment about the art they'd see, then he decided otherwise.
"Do you… ah, Feliciano, do you like spending time in my company?"
Italy's neck almost got whiplash with his haste to look up at Austria and nod energetically. "O–of course I do, Roderich!" his cheeks turned a vague pink shade as he reached forwards to touch Austria's fingers with his own. "We always talk about interesting things!"
Stepping out of the bus, Austria pointed towards the exhibit hall and gently steered Italy in that direction, one of his hands remaining on his back for a few seconds more than it should have.
"It makes me glad you think so, Feliciano," he admitted, smiling slightly. "But… maybe you'd prefer the company of someone else, like Feliks, for example? I am not a funny person, and…" he cleared his throat. "I… I always acted too strictly on your regards".
Italy stopped in the middle of the street, once again looking at the taller nation, this time with a small frown and a pout on his lips.
He clearly looked conflicted and confused, but Austria waited for him to speak, almost dreading what he'd say next.
"Roderich was… strict with me, yes," Italy looked forwards, starting to walk again, and Austria followed him. "You made me cry a lot, and for a period I was really really scared of you…"
Austria flinched in reflex, but Italy gently patted his arm, still hesitant. It was in moments like these that the Austrian nation regretted his past actions.
"But Roderich… didn't hate me, right?" Italy's tone was hesitant as he said so, yet with a curious strength into it. "Because even if I thought you hated me back then… now I think you didn't. Because you still keep a painting I ruined, and because I remember when… he went away, and you treated me nicely, and…" Italy's voice cracked, but he paused and continued as if nothing was wrong. "And I realise that I was a handful, and Austria had a hard time opening up with others…"
With a startled look that made Italy chuckle softly, Austria shook his head slowly. He had been a brat during his teenager years, a fact that he could acknowledge now, but he had no trouble in admitting that in such a historical period, he'd been wary of being attacked by other Nations.
Still, to know Italy had understood, if only in minimal part, made his heart grow warmer all of sudden.
"I…" not knowing what to say, Austria simply continued walking, overwhelmed by the situation.
"So if Roderich is trying to be nice now, I don't mind it at all~" Italy concluded, still smiling. "Ve~ that's the building! Let's go!"
Austria watched Italy speed up towards the building, looking up at where a huge banner spelling out 'Art Exhibition' in English and German was, and felt his lips twitch upwards in a smile.
Maybe he did have a chance with him, after all.
"Two tickets, please," he stated when they reached the ticket booth, completely ignoring Italy's attempts to pay for himself. "Allow me, Feliciano," he replied, holding one of Italy's arms into his grip to prevent him from flailing it around. "I want to," he added, looking into the Italian man's eyes.
Italy nodded, quietly thanking him, then moved towards the entrance, waiting until Austria was at his side to get in.
The exhibit was up to the expectance of both, and halfway through the third hall, Austria found himself engrossed in a meaningful conversation with Italy on the different details that various styles of painting brought out.
Austria himself wasn't much of an artist; he liked art the way he liked music, but whilst he was apt at the latter, his firm hands and his mindset didn't allow him to create art that he could be satisfied of.
Listening to Italy talk passionately about how mixing colours the old way enhanced the natural, vivid feeling of a painting made Austria, if possible, fall even more for the other Nation.
It was this kind of raw passion that Austria himself could only associate to music, and the way Italy's brown eyes burned while describing a few of his favourite painters (some of which he'd actually met) that made Austria shiver inwardly.
Italy had stopped speaking, and Austria for a moment couldn't understand why, then he realised that it was because he'd moved closer to the other while lost in his thoughts, and was now standing a few inches away from Italy, who was staring up at him in confusion.
"Ve~? Is there something on my face, Roderich?"
It would have been rather easy to just lean down and–
Shaking his head, fighting the absurd flush on his cheeks, Austria restrained himself and gently brushed something invisible away from Italy's face.
"There was something on there," he murmured, feeling silly and embarrassed, yet managing to keep his voice even. "Uh… i–it's ok now".
"Thank you Roderich! You're always so nice~"
Austria swallowed and looked to the side, still thinking about how he'd just been about to kiss Italy in the middle of an art exhibition, in front of who knew how many people.
Yet, a part of him didn't care –he'd been lost in Italy's company, and no one else mattered anymore. It was a definitely scary thought, yet the desire to still lean down was still present inside him.
This craving, this need –it was unlike he'd ever felt before.
It took all of his willpower not to let himself go to his basic instincts, yet to not to give in, at least partly, would have been impossible.
"Why don't we continue towards the sculptures now?" he motioned towards the next room, gently pressing his hand on Italy's back to guide him there.
The touch lingered, though doing nothing much to soothe his longing, and Austria didn't remove his hand from that spot, acutely aware of the way Italy's shoulder brushed against his chest, the closeness both unbearable and wanted.
If Italy noticed or wondered about his actions, he didn't voice his questions, instead opting for a long speech about the majestic, splendid sculptures they were staring up at.
The rest of the afternoon was spent completing the tour of the exhibit area, and much to the musician's surprise, Italy (while not clinging at him) still maintained the same closeness Austria himself had set, not an inch too close for comfort.
It was even reassuring, in a way.
"Ve, I'm quite hungry~ Roderich, could we stop at that ice cream parlour before we go back?" leaving the building with a photo book on the exhibit, Italy looked at the other nation almost expectantly, hoping for an affirmative reply.
With a nod, Austria felt his lips twitch upwards again, which prompted a grin from Italy.
"I hope you believe me now, when I say I've had fun today, too~" he stated then, crossing the street and playfully glancing back to Austria. "It is not always I get to talk about art with people…"
"I also had fun today," Austria's voice couldn't get more honest than that. "Spending time in your company is definitely pleasant".
It took Austria a few seconds to notice the fierce flush on Italy's cheeks at the light of the streetlamps, but when he did, he couldn't hide his smile; Italy moved towards the man behind the counter and pointed at the ice cream he wanted, while Austria tried to collect himself.
He'd followed what Poland and Hungary had suggested, and the situation had improved a bit, but now he wanted even more.
Paying for Italy's treat (and a small cup of tiramisu–flavoured ice cream for himself), Austria walked the Italian home; he knew that Poland and Hungary would be waiting him at his house to know the details of this 'date', yet he was in no hurry to let Italy go, either.
As he stopped in front of Italy's house in Venice, he idly wondered what the next step in this 'courting' would be.
At least, he was doing things properly…
"Ah… Roderich…?"
Italy hesitated for a split second, hands clutching the hem of his shirt; he wanted to properly thank Austria for everything –for paying his ticket, and his ice cream, and for spending so much time with him, not just listening to him prattle about art, but for actually commenting and showing interest in that– but he did not know how to do it.
Austria had stated that brief contact would be tolerated, unless in front of other people, but Italy's heart was brimming with happiness and warmth, and he didn't know how to convey that with a small touch or with few words, so that Austria could understand it.
Inviting him over so many days of the week, cooking for him, playing on the piano just because Italy asked him to…
Every small action showed Austria's care, and Italy was grateful for all of it.
Not knowing what had prompted it, he could only feel this happiness double with every day spent in Austria's presence, and he hoped that Austria took the same enjoyment in his company, too.
He could do it just this once, could he?
Spontaneously, Italy moved forwards and wrapped his arms around the Austrian Nation's shoulders, forcing himself to keep the contact short and light; he breathed in the taller man's familiar scent for a second, smiling secretly against his shirt, then pulled away.
He used the next second to admire Austria's flushed cheeks and his shocked expression, still grinning.
"Ve~, thank you so much! I hope you can come over next Monday, so I'll be the one cooking for you, ok?"
Hurrying away so that Austria wouldn't yell at him for his sudden gesture, Italy giggled and shut the door of his house behind his back, heart thumping fast.
He was used to hug people as a thank you, or simply because he felt like it, but this time…
This time, it had felt different.
None of the hugs he'd shared with others had ever felt this good before.
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SOY: So, that was it. Please drop me a comment if you liked this chapter ^^
Whoa, no translations needed. That's a first, lol…