Disclaimer: I own nothing. I own less Hetalia than Hungary owns feminine charm.

Summary: Switzerland was infatuated, but at the same time couldn't stand him.

Pairing: Austria x Switzerland

Rating: T

Perfection

Switzerland was obsessed with perfection; with things running as smoothly as possible. Every intricate detail had to go off without a hitch; every click of the rifle, every hinge oiled, every deadline met. He dealt best with cold, hard facts – the simple truth – no matter how bitter, he could swallow it without so much as a grimace.

Austria seemed perfect. Calculated precision in everything; in his decisions, in his music, in his integrity. Every button in every eyelet, every seam stitched together perfectly, every glint in his glasses and every movement; without a motion wasted.

Switzerland was infatuated, but at the same time couldn't stand him. The two-facedness was something he had been sensitized to; in the army, your squadron had to be composed of perfect trust, there couldn't be any doubt.

Austria's decisions were calculated, but they were made by somebody else.

His music was an escape rather than a hobby.

His integrity…

Well, maybe his integrity was intact.

But still.

The way he acted important when he was humble and the way that he acted humble when he was important both drew Switzerland up the wall. He dressed up to go out, but everything underneath the navy blue topcoat and cravat was patched and frayed; sewn together for decades to make something fragile and ragged.

And yet.

There was a certain lilt to his voice when he spoke to Switzerland, a certain look in his eye; a certain tilt of his lips.

This isn't to say that Switzerland was a blushing maiden under Austria's gaze, because he wasn't. He let Austria know exactly how detestable he was whenever they spoke, whenever they kissed, whenever clothes fell away and their bodies tangled heatedly under rustling sheets.

And Austria accepted it.

He seemed to drop the façade a bit around Switzerland, partaking in a few more sheepish grins and sighs of annoyance.

It wasn't enough, but they couldn't change for each other overnight; so Switzerland made some changes, too.

"Smile when you feel like it," Austria had once said to him, stroking a cheek with a soft, unblemished hand, "You have such a beautiful smile."

So Switzerland smiled.

Grudgingly, at first; but, after a trial period, he began letting them loose without even realizing it. It wasn't even Austria who told him about it first; it was Liechtenstein.

"Bruder," she had said one morning when Switzerland sat down at the kitchen table, in a sweet voice like angels and hot chocolate, "I woke you up this morning, and you were smiling… you have a nice smile."

In a weird way, Switzerland was glad to change; if it was for Liechtenstein.

A small smile here, a squeeze of the hand there.

It didn't hurt that Austria liked this change as well.

"You're so beautiful," he would murmur against his skin while Switzerland panted below him, and he knew that Austria was full of bullshit because he was scarred, and damaged and that's what war does to countries; but Austria said it anyway, and it made his pulse flutter uncontrollably.

And yet.

There were still those flaws, lying about the way Switzerland looked ravishing and stunning and jaw-droppingly gorgeous. The way his fingers would play along Switzerland's thigh as though it was an instrument during meetings, acting as though he didn't know what was going on as the blonde would flush red.

His stupid bedtime routines and the way Austria refused to believe that brushing one's teeth before sex could possibly be a turn-off.

Switzerland realized that he wasn't perfect, and he realized this fact infinitely more in Austria. Their imperfections, he thought, could fit into each other and maybe, maybe create something close to it.

He was willing to change, if it was for Liechtenstein.

For Austria.

For perfection.

xxxEnd

Love this pairing, but it's very hard to write Switzerland IC for me… hopefully, I'll get better eventually.