When Gilbert awoke, he did so quickly and efficiently.
There was no messing around with grogginess or trying to shake off weird dreams, he simply opened his eyes and was ready to get out of bed. For a bit, he couldn't remember why he felt so eager to wake, and then he remembered: He was to clean the rest of the house today.
Chores in themselves didn't really excite him, but he just felt like this was a good thing, and he was eager to get to it.
He got to his crutches after stretching out his leg, and then washed up before heading to the kitchen. Elizabeta looked surprised that she didn't have to wake him, but her expression smoothly changed to a knowing one, and a smug little smirk played about her lips. He frowned at her, but moved to help her prepare breakfast in silence.
She always had been a step ahead with these sorts of things, but so what? He just got a good night's rest, that's all. Nothing to smirk at.
Gilbert swore she giggled to herself when he finished setting the table for them though, and he almost snapped at her. He had no idea what he was going to say, but even with this new annoyance, he was still eager enough for the day to begin tapping on things.
He felt antsy. But why?
…Elizabeta and that smug, knowing smile.
He could tap if he wanted to. In fact, he started up a distinct rhythm and tapped louder. When she turned and looked at him though, it suddenly hit him that he was acting extremely childish. That kind of thing didn't usually occur to him until long after the fact, but he felt his fingers falter pathetically.
Roderich walked in just as his cheeks began to turn red.
Damnit all to hell.
The brunet yawned behind his hand and then moved his glasses to rub one of his eyes before he took his seat. Gilbert was aware that he was now just staring at him without moving or speaking, but it felt like all the anticipation that had gathered in his gut suddenly leaped upwards. The weightless feeling that washed over him seemed to force his stomach into his throat, and so he was still and silent.
Until Elizabeta nudged him with a hard elbow, and he landed. More or less.
"You're in the way, sit down!" she ordered and he obeyed like a dog.
He felt dazed still, even as he sat; it was like he just couldn't get his feet on the ground.
"How did you sleep?" Roderich inquired.
Gilbert's head snapped up in an incredibly obvious manner, but he felt his cheeks grow even hotter when he realized that the Austrian had been talking to Elizabeta.
Her answer was a soft noise made through pressed lips as she brought breakfast over, but then she nodded to him politely. "You?"
He just nodded tiredly, and Gilbert watched that rogue piece of hair bob as he did so. What was up with that thing, anyway? Did he like it when it stuck out like that?
"And what about you, Gilbert?" Elizabeta teased him with mock-courtesy. "How did you sleep?"
He looked at her hard, but she set a warm plate down in front of him and he forgot about it in the wake of food.
"Fine."
Roderich looked up with concern. "Did you not sleep well?"
Concern.
That didn't even begin to describe how Roderich looked at him. He did it often, it seemed, but always at awkward times, leaving Gilbert feeling caught off-guard and unsure of whether he too was just being cruel. The Austrian's prudish face became so open as he looked him, really looked at him with those mesmerizing eyes, and it made something deep inside him twist strangely. He felt like Roderich's concern reached far deeper than whatever he was asking; deep enough to make him wish to tell the truth.
In a panic, he fell back on his gruffer social manners.
"I said it was fine."
Roderich looked down immediately and Gilbert bit his tongue.
Damnit all to a deeper circle of hell.
His grandfather always said his big mouth was what would really get him into trouble. He didn't think first; he just said dumb shit.
Elizabeta seemed to realize that she might have pushed him too hard, and as she sat between them, she didn't break the silence for a while. Long enough for the broken atmosphere to heal and calm down a bit.
But when she did speak again, it almost made him jump.
"I don't know if I'll make it home tonight," she muttered quietly but not unclearly, and then her eyes flicked up and moved quickly between them.
"We'll be fine." Gilbert said in an immediate response, but when he heard how hard his own voice sounded, he swallowed and tried to speak a bit lighter. "We'll have the house clean when you get back,"
Elizabeta didn't seem to be comforted, but when Roderich made a whining noise, she snickered at him. After that, the air over them seemed to feel a bit lighter, and by the time breakfast was over, that odd feeling of giddiness returned to him.
"Specs!" Gilbert shouted scornfully, looking at the shabby job he had done of dusting the room he had been assigned to clean.
They had been cleaning since Elizabeta left that morning and by now their daylight was already half gone, but Gilbert felt they had made little progress. Mostly because he had to follow the Austrian around in order to redo his assignments. Roderich was honestly awful at this. He was probably used to others cleaning up for him.
The German scoffed through his teeth.
When he received no answer, he sighed in irritation and went to go confront him.
Roderich was now supposed to be cleaning the bedroom he slept in, but he was seated in the chair in the far corner. Gilbert knew he was sitting because he was weak and his body tired quickly, but the stupid man still sat with all the authority and arrogance anyone would expect of an aristocrat. It was that kind of bullshit that drove him crazy. Yet, despite his posture and pinched expression, when Gilbert's obvious annoyance entered with him, Roderich looked away and wouldn't meet his eyes.
The air the German had gathered up in his lungs to scold him seemed to dissipate and his chest deflated.
The Austrian's delicate hands were balled into tight little fists on his lap and he looked like he was holding his breath, obviously upset. He knew Gilbert was displeased with him.
Ah, shit.
"Specs," he rubbed the back of his neck.
The man didn't look at him.
He sighed. Well, he supposed there was nothing else to do but show him, step by step, what to do. Perhaps he had assumed too much…
"Come on, I'll show y—"
"No."
The red-eyed man blinked in surprise at the sheer power that was behind that word. It felt like a heavy boot had stomped down on the end of his sentence.
"…What?"
"I said no." Roderich still wasn't looking at him, but his voice was firm and cold.
He scoffed and was immediately once again cross with the Austrian. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"I mean we're finished." He told him, trying to swallow discretely. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"I'm sorry, I forgot I asked." He snapped back.
Roderich's head turned quickly to glare at him. His lips twitched before pressing into a thin line.
Gilbert glared back, willing to fight. Eager, in fact. He had been anxious all day, waiting for something to happen; a fight would take care of that. It was what he was used to anyway.
But, no. After a tense few minutes of watching Roderich refuse to respond or move, his eyes finally dropped to his lap. To those useless little fists. He wouldn't do anything with them.
"Fine." Gilbert snarled and left the room.
He didn't care. He didn't need that stupid Austrian's help. He could do it himself.
Screw 'em.
They stayed apart for the rest of the day; Gilbert remaining stubbornly downstairs while Roderich could occasionally be heard moving about upstairs.
He had remained forcibly mad for that time, which had actually kept him firmly focused on cleaning. So focused, in fact, that he had time to clean and then cook dinner all by himself before darkness surrounded the house and his physical strength was nearly gone.
He looked around again, realizing that everything he had intended to do was done. With a bitter sigh, Gilbert decided it was time to go check on Roderich.
Gilbert left the kitchen and climbed the stairs tiredly, but when he approached the door to the Austrian's room, he heard distinct shuffling sounds. When he made it to the doorway, he looked in with wide eyes.
Roderich had finished cleaning. The entire room was now dusted, straightened, and tidy. It actually looked good.
An exhausted-looking brunet was finishing up smoothing out the wrinkles in the bedcover before the turned around and spotted Gilbert watching him.
"What?" he snapped, immediately folding his arms.
Gilbert realized he was smiling before he could stop himself. "Looks good in here."
The Austrian glanced around before swallowing and then nodding his head, his lips still tight and his chin held up. "Thank you, Gilbert."
Gilbert smiled at him until Roderich seemed to determine that he was being genuine, and then they both shared a tired sigh his as guard came down and he relaxed his expression.
"I made dinner," the German said, leaning his head against the doorframe.
Roderich walked over to him slowly, almost timidly, but not without grace. He walked until they were face to face, and as Gilbert drew himself back up, they held eye contact silently. For a moment, there was nothing, just an awkward amount of focus between them. Then, those purple eyes opened up to him once again, in that same manner that stole his breath away.
"Let's go, then," he said quietly, smiling at him tenderly.
Tenderly. It was kind of nice, to be looked at like that. Even if it did kind of make him want to rub the back of his neck, or shift his stance, or fiddle with something if only to look away.
"Right." Gilbert mumbled, holding his gaze as long as he could before he finally looked away.
Roderich stepped passed him and then led the way back downstairs. Gilbert followed, back to feeling dazed.
What the hell was going on in this house?
They ate the dinner Gilbert had prepared quietly at the table together. The German saw Roderich glancing at the door once or twice, but they both knew that it was too late; if Elizabeta wasn't home before the sun went down, they wouldn't see her again until it rose. They talked a tiny bit about the dinner, but then Roderich surprised him by suddenly revealing that he knew how to make many different kinds of desserts and treats. Even old German ones that Roderich remembered from childhood.
Gilbert himself had never been much of a baker, but his brother was good at it, and when he told Roderich this, the Austrian encouraged that conversation rather suddenly.
He didn't know why, but he was more than happy to talk about his little brother. He was proud of him, after all; despite his shyness around other people, his brother was a hell of a soldier. A natural-born leader, for sure, just a little awkward at parties. But the more he talked, the more he found that the conversation had turned into him confessing to the other man. He hadn't told anyone how disappointed he'd been when he was finally sent westward only to find out that Ludwig was on a train to the north. He didn't know why he told him that.
Yet, when Roderich's attention still had refused to waver as they began cleaning up, his voice lowered quietly.
"The last time I saw him was just before I was shot, actually." He told him.
Roderich glanced at him sideways as he helped him clean off the dishes. "Oh?"
"I wasn't supposed to. I left my unit without permission."
The Austrian's stunning eyes widened. "You did? Why didn't you just tell them you needed to see him?"
Gilbert swallowed and looked down at his hands. He was quiet while they finished.
He hadn't told anyone about what had happened. There was still so much danger and shame and fear tied up in the whole damn thing. He didn't even know if Ludwig was okay or where he was any longer. He hoped he was far away from Europe. As far away as he could get. The rumors of what they did to deserters and traitors were horrifying even to battle-hardened men.
"They wouldn't have let you?" Roderich gently pressed when he received no answer.
"It's kind of a long story," he mumbled.
He nodded silently and Gilbert thought that meant he was willing to let the conversation die, but when they both retired to the couch in the main room, he turned to him and rested his hands in his lap expectantly.
Fucking aristocratic piece of—
Gilbert found himself having to smother a grin, so he rubbed his face with his hands and sighed loudly as he settled back into the couch.
They sat quietly for a bit longer before he gave a grim laugh, and shook his head.
"See, the thing you have to know about my brother," he let his head fall back, propping one elbow up on the arm of the couch so he could swing his hand around for emphasis. "He's just really, really unlucky."
Roderich didn't respond, but Gilbert somehow knew that his eyebrow had quirked up slightly. That somehow made him want to continue more than just the urge to vent.
So, he did. He opened up a weird, hidden part of his mind that held his secrets, and he told Roderich about how his brother had been framed, how Gilbert had heard about it, and how he had escaped his regiment and traveled over a thousand miles undercover in order to get to Sweden to find out what the hell had really happened.
Roderich gawked at all the appropriate times, and Gilbert nodded; sometimes he couldn't even believe what had happened. It all felt a bit surreal, breaking rank to go find out if Ludwig was to be executed or worse.
"You went that far, and came back, without being caught?" the Austrian gasped.
He nodded a bit and absently traced a design on the couch. "It was crazy, that's for sure. But it was like, 'my brother was in trouble, so nothing was going to stop me from getting there'. Almost like I was invincible to everything until I knew he was okay."
"So, he was okay?" Roderich followed apprehensively.
Gilbert paused.
"Not exactly."
He wasn't sure if the true meaning of 'desertion' or 'defection' would be lost on the musician, but there was no other way to say it.
"He deserted when he found out what they were going to do. He ran, into Sweden, to hide." Gilbert waited, having slumped down enough so that he could see Roderich's expressions now.
To his surprise, his mouth fell open, and he raised a hand to cover it in an honest expression of alarm. Gilbert nodded, mostly to himself though, and continued.
"The bastard ended up with some crazy Swedes, some kind of rebels or something, who'd shot him in the leg before they took him in," he growled.
"Like you." he observed.
The German paused to realize that he hadn't really thought about it like that, but yeah, both he and his brother had been shot in the leg.
He had to take a moment to laugh.
Roderich had somehow encouraged him to tell the entire story, beginning to end, going so far as to even spill the bit about how he was greeted upon his return. No one liked an albino in the ranks. Too fucking obvious, even with a helmet. Yeah, sure, so obvious that he was able to slip through half of Europe and back without getting caught.
When he finished, he was crossing his arms over his chest, frowning at a spot on the couch. He hadn't really wanted to tell that story, and now that he had, along with a lot more than he'd wanted to say, he just felt weird. It made him want to squirm.
"Gilbert," Roderich suddenly placed that elegant hand on his good knee.
That got him to look up, and see the way he knew Roderich would be looking at him. He looked back, but felt his insides wriggle and constrict. What the hell did he want from him, anyway?
"I—"
A loud cracking sound split through the air, and through all of Gilbert's immediate thoughts. A gunshot. It was close, too.
Too close.
It felt as though the room had collapsed strangely around him, and he thought he heard someone scream. The sound of gunshots seemed to be right in his ears, making him wince and jerk awkwardly away from the noise. Suddenly, it was like he was back on the field, dust and heat and smoke stealing away his breath. Filling his lungs until he couldn't inhale at all, no matter how hard he tried. It really hurt his chest, but as the terror set it, everything hurt. Every muscle spasm, every attempt at swallowing, every time he tried to move and felt himself painfully restricted by things he couldn't even see.
What kind of new hell was this?
He was like that for a while, maybe an eternity. Trying to gasp for more air, but never able to hold anything in. Unable to move, or scream, or do anything to stop the chaos swirling around him.
God, the pain and the fear. He couldn't even remember his own damn name.
Then a voice came to him. A voice too soft and tender for the battlefield. It wouldn't leave him alone, actually, no matter how he tried to turn away from it.
It kept calling him, until he eventually realized he was being called by name. If there had been a light, he would have followed that ghostly voice into it, but there was no light. There was a hand, though, he found at length, and it was all he could do to grasp at it.
He just wanted to breathe. One lungful of air.
Please, God, just let me breathe.
And in answer to his prayers, he did. But it hurt.
A hard heel of a hand was suddenly jabbed against his chest, and he let out a forced cough, expelling air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Immediately, he sucked in a breath, only to have it forced out of him again in the same manner. That went on for a bit, until he began to breathe out on his own, and his pulse finally began to descend.
Slowly, the sounds of war and gunfire began to fade away from him.
He managed to crack open his eyes and saw a figure silhouetted against a bright light. The figure was speaking to him softly, things he couldn't understand, but were calming nonetheless. As he began to calm down, and as he was finally transported back to his house, back to the living room, his vision began to clear.
Roderich's form began to distinguish itself from the room light behind him, and he blinked until he realized that it was the Austrian who was speaking. Angelic, still…
"Gilbert, can you hear me?" he was calling to him.
He forced a nod, still just so grateful to be breathing.
"Good. Just try to relax." He told him. "You're safe here."
It was true.
The loud noises of battle were gone, and the stink and the dirt and the heat had vanished as well. They had never been. As Gilbert's eyes opened further, he realized that he had somehow fallen on the floor again, and that Roderich was with him, his knees supporting the albino's head.
There had been danger once, but it had never been here.
What the hell was happening to him? He felt like he was going crazy.
"Shh," the voice above him hushed him gently. "It's over now. I've got you. Don't cry."
Each of those short statements sent his mind buzzing, but he reached a shaky hand up to his face and his fingers brushed whatever had been tickling his cheek. It was wet. He was crying without even knowing it.
Roderich doubled over awkwardly in order to hug him as best as he could. To comfort him.
"It's okay, Gilbert. It's all okay." He kept saying over and over again, trying to get it through to him that none of what had happened was real.
Fuck, he must have made a scene. Still, somehow even as he realized what had happened had been a false alarm, he just cried harder. Maybe because he was embarrassed, or afraid, or just so relieved that it wasn't real. Uneven gasps and hiccups and occasional clipped cries filled the room as Roderich just continued to hold him and talk to him.
The musician's hands ended up in his hair after a bit, apparently realizing he had no choice but to let him sob.
For a moment, Gilbert was so terrified that he was about to get up and leave him that he barked out his name between gasps and tears.
"I'm here Gilbert," he told him in that same mild, angelic voice. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Oh, god," he sobbed loudly in response.
"It's okay," he muttered, and began running his fingers lightly through his hair.
Roderich stroked his face, he wiped his endless tears, and he ran his fingers through his hair, all just to comfort him. At first, for some reason, it made him cry harder, but it eventually did begin to relax him. He sniffled a bit as he began to come back down from it all, his head pounding a bit.
There was a brief flash of white over his vision, and suddenly something was being handed to him.
"Here."
He took the white object, realizing it was a beautifully embroidered handkerchief.
Despite everything, he found himself too embarrassed to do anything with it. He wasn't about to wipe his nose with such a pretty thing. Such a pretty thing from a person like the one who was supporting his head.
"It's okay," he mumbled, almost unintelligibly, trying to hand it back.
"I insist," Roderich responded promptly, and it may have been just in his mind, but he thought he heard a soft, endearing smile behind those words.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"You're welcome, Gilbert."
Calming down seemed to take hours, but Roderich never left him there on the floor, he just continued to pet his hair and stroke his cheeks, forehead, and chin, letting him cry occasionally as he needed to. He talked to him, even if he was just repeating the same phrases over and over again, and that helped. The touches helped more, and when he bent down and pressed a sudden, tender kiss to his forehead, he felt his body go absolutely limp.
Roderich chuckled sweetly at him, but then fell silent as the room finally settled down at last.
"I'm sorry," Gilbert choked out at length.
"Shh." He was immediately shushed, which made him frown, but then the Austrian spoke again, with a surprising amount of firmness. "Don't apologize; it's not your fault."
He looked away, not knowing what to say.
These ghostly flashes of war appearing in his house were hellish in their intensity but, now that it was over, he felt like he had made a total and utter ass of himself. He didn't even want to know what Roderich thought of him now…what he thought of that display. And over a gunshot. Getting scared by a policeman's pistol like he'd never heard a gun go off.
He felt miserable.
"Gilbert," that voice called him back again, despite how he tried to resist. "Gilbert, look at me,"
He obeyed, practically glaring up at the man who he was using as a pillow.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes fixing on him like he was looking right down into him, into his mind, body, and soul all at once.
He looked up at him for a while, and then sighed and nodded.
It was over. He was alright.
Eventually, Gilbert sat up and turned, pressing his back into the couch so he could look at Roderich.
Those sweet lips, the lips that had talked him back from the depths of hell and insanity, were slightly parted in worry. Worry for him. He looked down and rubbed his neck.
His hands were still shaking and he felt strangely cold. He had always been a little more sensitive to temperature change, but this kind of cold felt like it was coming from the inside. A cold core. A sickness.
Gilbert might have shivered a bit, but before he could do anything else, Roderich had pulled down the blanket from the couch and threw it around both of them. They wrapped up together quietly, avoiding each other's eyes, and instead contemplating the walls and the designs on the blanket. Then, a warm hand entwined with his own, and held it. Roderich settled his head gently on his shoulder and they let their bodies lean into each other slowly.
He sighed, and let the muscles in his back and shoulders begin to relax as warmth spread between them beneath the blanket.
"Roderich?" he asked at length.
"Yes, Gilbert?" the Austrian answered from beneath his chin.
"Thanks." His voice was scratchy and a bit whispery, but he tried to say it with as much feeling as he could muster.
He wasn't sure how much would really fit into that one word, but it was all he could get out.
Roderich's soft, dark hair tickled his skin as he adjusted his head on his shoulder. "You don't need to thank me."
"And why's that?" he asked, breathing out softly as he enjoyed the feeling of warmth returning to his body, courtesy of the man beside him.
A long pause.
So long, in fact, that Gilbert thought he wasn't going to get an answer. Then, the smaller man lifted his chin a bit and cleared his throat pointedly.
"Because I,"
Roderich began to pull back to sit up, and something about the tone of his voice put Gilbert back on high alert and he turned to look at him.
"I,"
Gilbert's eyes began to grow wide.
"I'm in love with you, obviously." He folded his arms as he said it, and then looked at him with such an aristocratic expression that the German gawking at him almost mistook his confession for sarcasm.
"…What?" he blurted out gracelessly alarm.
Roderich raised his slender eyebrows calmly, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about that statement. "I said, I love you."
This Austrian was going to be the death of him. They had just been fighting for the last entire half of the day. They taunted and annoyed each other daily. And yet, he said he…
On the other hand, he had kissed him. Twice. And they had slept in the same bed together the night the police had come. He'd also admitted to not hating him then.
Gilbert looked down a bit, trying to get his thoughts in order while Roderich held his poise.
With a twinge of embarrassment, Gilbert realized that his chest now felt warm, so did his cheeks. Hot, even. He was blushing. Probably because he was being forced to acknowledge that he held his own feelings for the eccentric Austrian. Besides, if they were just friends, he probably wouldn't be thinking about his eyes and lips so much. Obviously.
He began to cover his mouth, but then cleared his throat, too.
"Yeah,"
Brilliant response.
Roderich frowned in irritation, making Gilbert begin to grin beneath his hand. "Yeah what?"
"Er…me too." He told him as he let his hand drop, trying to hold his chin and his composure as Roderich had done.
A faint pink blush dusted the Austrian's face elegantly, and he tilted his head down a bit before glancing back up, making those pretty eyelashes flutter a bit. "Oh."
I love you.
To hell with it all; he loved him too. Millions of different people to choose from though, and he had to go and fall for Roderich. Gilbert was pretty sure God was laughing at him just then.
They were still holding hands, but Gilbert's had begun to sweat with his nervousness, so he carefully pulled it away and wiped it on his pants. Roderich might have looked faintly amused, but laid his hands together neatly in his lap beneath the blanket.
They sat in awkward silence for a while, until Gilbert became so fearful that Roderich was playing some sort of sick joke on him, that he decided he needed to test him. The German then turned towards him so they were sitting face to face beside the couch, wrapped together in a large, heavy blanket.
Roderich looked up at him when he moved, but didn't say anything. Just watched him with an unreadable stare.
Gilbert tried not to hesitate, to make sure he wouldn't psych himself out, yet, he couldn't help but notice the elegant structure of the Austrian's face, along with the way his full lips were now held closed, and his glasses glinted from where they were perched upon his shapely nose. He tried to swallow down his nervousness, though he felt almost as if he nearly missed his own throat, and then he clenched his jaw and his fist, and moved.
He leaned forward quickly, able to see Roderich's eyebrows raise and his lips part slightly to form the beginning of a question, but only before he reached him, and pressed their lips together.
There was a stillness in Roderich, but Gilbert kept the force behind his lips, holding them to the other pair, though he was far too stiff with fear to try to get them to move in any sort of way.
Roderich continued to hold still, and after a moment Gilbert began to pull back. He intended to laugh and call his bluff, but somewhere deep in his heart, there was an odd sting that turned into a strange wrenching feeling. It made his throat tighten.
Suddenly, there was a hand on the back of his neck, and he was tugged forward again, and those full lips met his stunned ones once more. They moved expertly, pressing against his lips before relaxing and creating a slight suction between them. He kissed him slowly, trying to, as he eventually realized, spur him into participating.
Oh.
It took him a moment to overcome his anxiety, but then he responded to the ministrations against his mouth, and kissed him back. Despite the kisses Roderich had given him before, Gilbert hadn't expected his lips to be so soft and warm, and they moved so fluently and so sweetly against his own that made his knees weaken, even though they were sitting down.
They kissed unhurriedly, but fully. Deliberately. Allowing time to truly feel the kiss, to memorize it, to allow its effects to sweep over them both. Their tongues timidly touched, at first only to lubricate their lips, but then they met again, and Gilbert felt Roderich cautiously begin to open his mouth to deepen the kiss.
He swallowed with his lips pressed to the other's mouth. Gilbert didn't have nearly as much skill with such things as he let on, but somehow the warmth that was growing in his chest stoked an adventurous desire within him. The pale German took a deep breath before pulling the Austrian close against his chest, tilting his chin up with his knuckle and bowing his head down to capture his lips more fully. Then, he gently parted his own lips, and their tongues timidly met in the shared territory between their mouths.
His tongue felt hot and slick, and he was utterly intrigued with the feeling as the two wet muscles felt the other out carefully. Their saliva mixed and their tongues touched the vestal insides of each other's mouths, but Gilbert was still focused on the feeling of Roderich's tongue. He liked the way it moved, the way it traced along his lips even as they were pressed together, and he chased after it with his own tongue. After a moment, Roderich gave in, and let them meet once again, beginning a complex, albeit sloppy, dance.
The intricate movements caused a shuttered to slide down his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and he leaned deeper into the kiss with a heavy breath through his nose.
Oh, God-
Roderich's hand lifted to stroke his cheek and in response, Gilbert's hand came to hold the tender place where the back of his head met his elegant neck. As he held him, and as Roderich stroked his face softly, the Austrian slowly began to open his mouth wider, yielding his tongue to him, and allowing him uninhibited access.
His eagerness to taste the musician's supple mouth overpowered his persistent anxiety, and he pressed forward, letting his tongue explore Roderich's mouth more fully. He traced the roof of his mouth, his tongue traveled over his glossy teeth, he gingerly stroked the impossibly soft inner walls of his cheeks, but when he teased the top of his tongue, Roderich suddenly became emboldened. The receptive Austrian suddenly kissed him with more power, forcing the dance between their tongues to pick up speed. Their lips moved together as they concealed the secret meeting, but eventually Gilbert's inexperience shown through, and their lips slipped apart as he applied too much force.
They both retracted their tongues and swallowed as they parted, and for a moment, Gilbert was almost too embarrassed to look back at him while he wiped his mouth. But Roderich wasn't looking at him critically at all. Instead, he was looking up at him from under half-lidded, glazed-over eyes that shown with rich desire. His lips were parted again, desiring yet more kisses. He wasn't going to berate him for his naivety, and with that, all Gilbert's apprehension and fear melted away. Replaced instead by his own desire, which rose up and flooded over his entire body, setting a fever to his flesh and to his mind.
"Gilbert," he muttered breathlessly as those enticingly mystical eyes began to flutter shut once again.
He began to move again, intending to kiss him until he was breathless, but then there was a loud series of knocks at the front door and his body froze completely solid.
Oh shit-
Roderich's eyes had snapped open widely, and they stared at each other before Gilbert jerked his head violently to the side, motioning for him to get to the back room.
His grandfather had a small area beneath the bed where he had once stored things like guns and bullets, things that needed to be kept away from young boys, but now it served as their makeshift place to hide Roderich.
The Austrian looked at him with so much terror in his eyes that Gilbert wanted to do nothing more than pull him into his arms and hold him. He wanted to protect him, to fight off whoever was at the door, but he knew he couldn't, so he just motioned a second time and they both scrambled to throw the blanket back on the couch before he disappeared quickly down the hallway and Gilbert grabbed his crutches.
The knocks hadn't sounded again, yet. That was a good indication so far, but he didn't dare get his hopes up. It was dark outside. Too dark to be Elizabeta. And no one walked the dark streets of Rosenheim with good intentions these days.
He waited as long as he dared to give Roderich a chance to hide before he began towards the door. Holding his breath, he unlocked it slowly, and then mouthed a silent prayer before pulling the door open slightly.
If there really was a god, he was watching over them that night.
It was Elizabeta.
"Hurry, let me in!" she hissed in a whisper.
He swung the door open wider to pull her in, and then shut it quickly and locked it back up.
"What in the hell are you doing?" he barked at her when he turned around.
She was wrapped up in a dark cloak with her hair tied in a dark scarf, but she still would have been obvious hurrying down the empty streets between their house and the house she worked at.
"They let me off late, I thought I could make it." She was panting, her cheeks red and her eyes bright as the scanned the room. "Where's Roderich?"
Gilbert nodded to the back room as the tension in his muscles began to relax into irritation. "In the back room. You scared the hell out of us!"
She just scoffed at him, but they met each other's eyes before she began down the hallway, and there was a much more sincere apology within their light green color.
He grunted and began following her. Apology accepted.
Didn't mean he was happy, though.
They both moved down the hallway to his grandfather's room. Gilbert didn't dream about it any longer, but he was still glad Elizabeta walked before him, and was the one to turn on the light.
"Roderich," she called. "It's just me. It's alright,"
There was a silence, and then a soft scuffling could be heard beneath the bed before the small door popped open, and a dusty, brown-haired aristocrat appeared.
He got to his feet, dusting off his clothes in annoyance.
"Elizabeta, that's so dangerous! You can't go out when it's this late! You should have just stayed there!" he scolded her.
Gilbert didn't dare say anything like that to someone like Elizabeta, but to his surprise, the Hungarian just nodded.
"I'm sorry."
He sighed, adjusting his glasses. "We just have to be careful. All of us."
All three of them nodded in unison.
"So, did you eat?" Gilbert asked her as they began to shuffle out of the room.
She nodded. "A little."
"There's still some dinner left over, I think," Roderich told her, switching off the light and shutting the door so Gilbert didn't have to.
He appreciated that, but refrained from making eye contact with the Austrian. Not just yet. It would be too awkward.
She nodded again. "Alright. You two can go to bed, then."
Elizabeta continued to the kitchen, leaving Gilbert and Roderich to pause at the bottom of the stairs.
Had she not come home, Gilbert was certain he could have spent another night with Roderich in bed beside him. However, now that she was there, it would just be too embarrassing to explain. Someday they would tell her, he was sure, just, not when it was still so new. They'd only had their first real kiss not five minutes ago.
"Well, goodnight, Gilbert." Roderich said at length once they had shifted awkwardly and avoided eye contact for long enough.
"Goodnight, Specs." The nickname was enough to get Roderich to look at him with a frown, and as soon as he had his attention, he shot him a grin and a wink.
The brunet blushed visibly, and covered his mouth before scoffing and turning to head up the stairs. He watched him though, and just before the other man disappeared for the night, he caught a flash of a charming smile.
A goodnight, more or less. Tomorrow would be interesting, at least.
It made him want to hit his head against the wall, but in a good way.
Author's Note: I can't believe it, but this fic has been up for almost a year. It looks like it hasn't got very much longer to go, but I just wanted to say thank you to you all for reading and continuing to follow this story. The next few chapters should come sooner, and thank you all again.