4

Prussia has decided to walk around town without his uniform, opting instead to wear a blue button-down shirt and black pants. He doesn't feel like he's part of the military at this point, and besides, he's just going to raid his brother's house. West isn't here so he won't know a thing.

It's not his fault the locals in charge of his rations have been shirking on their duties. He's not sure if it's on purpose or not, but he sure as hell won't let it get him down. Still, he has to eat something, and he needs to feed Canada. So he'll go down to West's place and snatch some food while his brother isn't around to complain.

That's the plan, at least.

When he walks up to the large mansion of a house, he scowls, more at the absence of the military truck which reminds him that West is off fighting without him . He's long forgiven his brother for kicking him out of the house they used to share. Well, mostly. West is fighting (and losing to) his inner monster and when Prussia bad-mouthed their current leader one too many times, it meant Prussia was out on his own. So that's why he's not living in the same mansion anymore, and why he has his own small townhouse-style of a place to call home.

He expects everything will go back to normal once this war is over. Maybe it'll take as long as getting the current leader out of power and pushing back on the terrible propaganda, but eventually Prussia will be back in Germany's house. For now, though, he walks up to the large white mansion, finds the key hidden under the placemat, and opens the door into the spacious entryway.

"Yo, Austria," he calls as he shuts the door behind him and walks down the tile of the entryway toward the main living area. "The awesome me has come to take your rations for myself, just like old times!"

He doesn't hear a response. Maybe - maybe - the sound of a newspaper rustling, but it's not until he full on strides into the living area that he sees the Austrian nation sitting on Germany's plush couch, drinking tea, and glaring directly at him.

So he smirks and leans against the doorway, hanging under the arch of the white baseboards. "Good, you're here. I'm not talking to myself."

Austria huffs. "Hello, Gilbert."

There's no friendliness in the words. No welcome in the glare. Of course not. Prussia and Austria have only been at each other's throats for years. History is not something so easily forgotten and brushed aside.

He takes a moment to stare at his past-enemy current-ally, taking in the way Austria always manages to look put together no matter what's going on in his country. He does look a little worn, his cheeks sunken, less color in them than usual. War isn't exactly an easy thing to deal with for any of them. That annoying ass mole sits on Austria's chin so close to his mouth, bringing attention to the haughty attitude present even in his frown.

Fucking Roderich. Guy pisses him off just by existing sometimes.

"You look bored as fuck," Prussia says with a snort. "West not leave you anything to do?"

There's a slight twitch in Austria's frown, but otherwise his manner remains calm and stony. "I am perfectly entertained without him 'leaving me something to do.'"

"Tch. Whatever," Prussia scoffs as he crosses his arms. "You got some extra food I can have or am I going to have to start poking around on my own?"

"Bold of you to assume I'll let you take what you want."

He raises an eyebrow at Roderich's tone. "You think you can stop me?"

Silence meets him in return. Their eyes stay locked. A thrill runs up his spine at the nostalgic stand-off routine, even if this is over something far less than anything they've faced each other for in the past.

They'll never get along. It's just a fact. Too much history. And Lizzy in between them, too, though she's not with either of them now. Of course, technically, they're both under him - or Germany - now, but it doesn't mean they can be friendly with each other. It doesn't mean they'll ever be friendly.

After a lengthy battle of wills, Roderich turns his gaze and huffs. "Very well. It's not as if I've been able to stop you two thus far."

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he moves in to get closer to Austria, hands slipping into his pockets. "Oh come on. I know you can put up more of a fight than that."

"I repeat," Roderich says as he sips his tea, though now that he's closer, Prussia notes the tremble of anger just barely unmasked in those delicate fingers. "I haven't been able to stop you two, so why should I fight over food now?"

"You're no fun."

This gets him more of a reaction. Austria slams his teacup on the close coffee table and shoots him a revealing glare. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize when you both annexed me that it meant I was under an obligation to entertain you."

He winces at the reminder. Annexing a nation could involve its own form of entertainment. They hadn't exactly been nice. To anyone, Austria included.

"You still upset about that? We're kicking ass, and at least you get to stay in West's house with full rations and more, right?"

"'Still upset about that'," Austria repeats, his narrowed eyes refusing to let up. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

With a shrug, Prussia waves his hand in the air and tries to hold back a growl. He kind of wants to smack Roderich in the face right now, but that would do no one any good. Coming over to bug his past rival probably wasn't the best idea, but it's too late now. West isn't here to come between them, so if a full out brawl happens, he doesn't care . Besides, he's a better fighter when it comes down to it. Knock those stupid glasses right off his fucking face.

He manages to stay calm enough to hold down the monster. Manages to keep himself from imploding. Manages to continue the verbal sparring with his tone mostly in control, too.

"I don't know," he growls, "Maybe because you're on the winning side this time."

"Not of my own free will."

Austria's comeback is too quick, but instead of throwing a punch, Prussia tosses his hands in the air and turns his back. Retreat and fight another day. It's not like it matters in the end. Austria is here whether he likes it or not. He'll be more appreciative when they come out of this on top of the war. He'll like being under them when the war is over.

"Fucking whatever," he says through a clenched jaw. "I don't have time for this."

Stomping off into the kitchen, he pulls open cupboards, noting the actual plentiful amount of food in here. Really does pay to be living in Germany's house right now. Austria gets to be spoiled and still complain about his lot in life, meanwhile he has to suffer with the glares and whispers and meager rations.

So maybe that's why he's stuffing the non-perishables into a bag and slamming cabinet doors closed as he goes around snatching everything that catches his eye. Fruit isn't bad. That's a surprise. Bread and eggs are good. The only thing West is really lacking in here is a good choice of meat, but at least he has something .

Damn, his brother isn't even here to enjoy all this. It's all for prissy Austria. West is off fighting, dealing with battlefield gruel and whatever else he can manage to cook. He wonders if Italy is out there, too. Feliciano would make pasta out of dirt if he had to, so if he's with West, then their food situation is probably better than normal.

"Why do you need food from us anyways?"

"Because," he mutters, only a little surprised that Roderich followed him in here to continue having a conversation. "They're not giving me enough to feed both me and Canada. Hell, I think they're skimping on what rations they give me in the first place."

"Why would they be doing that?"

He freezes, putting a can of green beans in his bag and blinking up at Roderich. The asshole doesn't even seem to guess what the issue could be. Maybe that's not so assholish of him after all, or maybe he's just dense. Even meeting his eyes gets nothing more than a curious, stubbornly raised eyebrow and nothing more.

With a scoff, he turns back to his food raid. "Got me…"

"Don't tell me," Roderich goes on. "They want more than just your freedom now."

"Tch. What are you even on about…" he mutters and then shakes his head before his thoughts can drift somewhere unpleasant. "I'm sure it's nothing. It just makes things annoying when I have to take care of someone else at my own house."

"Why are you the one doing that? I heard Germany is out fighting. Why aren't you with him?"

It almost sounds like an interrogation, but he can sense a hint of curiosity in Austria's voice questions, so he shrugs and answers anyway. Talking is nice. He's practically done gathering food now. In goes the last canned item and then he makes a knot in the bag and tests its strength before setting it back on the table and meeting Roderich's quiet and patient gaze.

"I asked the same fucking thing, but West wouldn't listen. Apparently I'm the only one qualified enough to torture another nation for information."

Something flashes in Austria's dark eyes, like a spark of memory that's quickly tossed to the side. "How tough are they to crack?"

His hands go on the counter and he bites the inside of his cheek. "I don't know. I haven't felt much like torturing this one for some reason."

Wide eyes stare across the table. Prussia meets his old rival's gaze but keeps his mouth shut. He can see the disbelief plain as day across that face. And he rolls his eyes at the way Roderich keeps opening and closing his mouth like he can't find the words to speak anymore.

So he narrows his eyes. "Hey, don't look at me like that. It's not like I can explain it."

"But," Austria murmurs, licking his lips. "Isn't that one of your specialities? Yours and your brother's?"

"It's not like -" He cuts off the sentence and runs his hands through his hair, scratching almost obsessively. "Agh, whatever, don't you think we've committed enough atrocities this time around? So what if I don't feel like torturing anymore? I'd be better out on the battlefield and away from this propaganda riddled suffocating sense of terror anyway."

"Ah, you don't like the propaganda, then. Good to know."

"Seriously? You think I did?"

Austria shrugs, his voice hard but dropping in volume. "I wasn't sure. Your people certainly seem into it."

Prussia scowls. "Not all of them."

"Evidently not. Your side clearly doesn't."

"There's…" He starts his words, then swallows and stares down at the ground, finding his voice weak. He's tired. So, so tired. "There's too much fear going around and people do stupid things when they're scared."

His words hang in the air for a moment. It's suffocating, as he's said before. Even in this house. Austria probably feels worse from his own people, since they didn't want to join the regime anyway, and now they've been forced. Poked and prodded until they did what Germany wanted. Prussia always likes sticking it to Austria, so he shouldn't care, but then having that terror coming from his own citizens makes him want to throw up so he can imagine the pain he's inflicted on his former rival.

It's sickening, is what it is. And he can't do a damn thing about it at this point. West has even pulled him from the battlefield for a stupid interrogation mission. And, what? Prussia can't even make himself do that much anymore.

He wants to go back to fighting. It's so much easier to stop thinking and stop feeling when he's fighting.

The silence stalks around and eventually gets to be too much so he shakes his head to force the thoughts away and grabs the bags of food in his hands. "Bah. Whatever."

Roderich follows him with his eyes. "Going back to that captive nation now? Why are you bothering to feed him anyways?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He says, glancing over his shoulder as he walks to the door. "He's definitely nicer to talk to than you are, for one."

"He's your prisoner."

"As if I don't know that. I'm bored. He's entertaining." He shrugs.

"Entertaining?"

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs and makes his way to the front door of the mansion. "You know. He's part of the British Empire and kind of been sheltered by Arthur so it's interesting to talk with him."

His footsteps practically echo as he walks, almost like they're giving him away. Like the house itself can hear the lie in his words. It's more than that, isn't it? It's more than what he's saying. If it weren't such bad, awful, terrible timing, he might admit to it, too.

But…

But he can't.

"Besides," he adds, smirking over his shoulder as he reaches the door. "If I play the good guy angle long enough, he'll really crack once I let myself snap, right?"

Austria's eyes widen, then roll as he gives a prissy little huff. "Should've known you would say something like that."

"Damn right you should have," he says, feeling more in control of the whole situation than he's felt for the past few weeks. "I'll be back if I need more food."

Austria doesn't even acknowledge his statement as he leaves.

~!~

Canada sighs for what must be the thousandth time as he flips through a book. His German isn't the best, but he can get by - something he's not going to tell Prussia or anyone else as a captive. The less they suspect or know about him, the better. Besides, it's easy to fool Prussia, since the nation seems stubborn about treating Canada like a weak nobody nation. "Just a part of the British Empire" and all.

Surprising to know Prussia respects England as much as he does. That's something he never would have guessed, that's for sure. Allies at one point, Prussia had said, but then, over here, allies and enemies switch like it's nothing. Maybe it's because of all the years they've been so cramped together on this continent. Whereas Canada and America have land beyond what anyone over here can boast..

It's a whole different world over here, and Canada's only here because of the war. He hopes one day he can come over here to explore and enjoy his time. One day. When the war is over. He prays enough of the historical buildings will still be standing to enjoy. With all the bombings, he's afraid too much has already been destroyed.

The reminder makes him flashback to visions of London and other cities in Britain. The German Blitz had turned the place into a mess. Everything was being destroyed. Not just the people, but so much of their history .

With another sigh, Canada tosses the book he's reading off to the side. It's too much of a headache trying to translate it as he reads anyway. Some older German talking about Prussian history of all things, most especially during the War of Austrian Succession. Of course Prussia would have that in his house. The albino nation seems to be pretty proud of his past and his previous accomplishments.

Too bad he's now supporting so much genocide, whether he's personally for it or not. Clenching his hands into fists, Canada climbs off the bed and moves to the window. It's getting too dark outside to see much, but he can still make out the patrols of the guards around the building. Odd. Seems like they've doubled security. Or at least added to it. He doesn't remember seeing that many walking around here the last time.

Why do that? He hasn't caused any trouble. So long with just the few guards and now it's almost like they're trying to keep Prussia here, too.

Canada frowns at the thought, catching the sound of angry German from downstairs. It's muffled, of course, and hard to make out. But it sounds like someone is getting yelled at for...leaving? Are they actually keeping Prussia here under house arrest after all, then? That's strange. He's supposed to be high up in the military as their nation. He should have respect. What did he do to get them to treat him like that?

Mapleleaf , he thinks, rubbing his head. Why do I even care?

While Prussia hasn't done anything to warrant fear or disdain, he certainly shouldn't be pitied or looked at as anything but a threat. Canada is a prisoner here. He needs to remember that. Even if Prussia is treating him well and talking with him like he's some sort of willing guest, the line doesn't need to keep being blurred. Prisoner, not friend. It's getting harder and harder to remember to keep his guard up.

Maybe that's the whole point.

Footsteps on the stairs draw his attention to the door before it opens. Prussia stands in the doorway, clearing his throat, and looking for all the world like an embarrassed lost puppy. Canada has to shake himself to keep from smiling.

"Hey, uh," Prussia says. "The door was unlocked this whole time. Did you know that?"

A smile sneaks through against his better judgement and Canada nods. "Yeah, but this place is still surrounded."

Red eyes glance to the side and down, as if avoiding his gaze. "Right, but uh, it's just you and me in the house and all."

Now that's a strange thing to point out. Canada raises an eyebrow, starting to find it weird how Prussia is shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. Like he wants to ask something. A favor or…

He frowns. What's going on?

"Are you saying," Canada says slowly, "That I can walk around the house freely?"

Prussia shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, it's got to be boring as hell stuck in one room all the time, right?"

" Oui it is, but what if I find something I shouldn't?"

To his surprise Prussia merely scoffs it off. "Fuck if I care about that anymore."

Which definitely is shocking. He's being kept here because he's a nation and a spy. Canada's whole purpose for being in Berlin is to search out information, and, well, other things, but he can't very well stop looking for intel even as a prisoner. He's proven it's not hard to get information out of Prussia when the man wants to be talkative, especially as it concerns himself.

So why let him wander around freely? There has to be plenty worth hiding in this house. So why?

"Oh, uhm," he says into the silence, biting his bottom lip as he looks around awkwardly. "What do you suggest I do, then?"

The other nation leans against the arch of the doorway and gives a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I have a television set but it's been kind of shit lately so I've just been playing the radio for music. But that gets boring so -"

As Prussia drifts off, Canada closes his eyes and listens harder. Yeah, if he tries he can make out some kind of radio static and music - or what he assumes is music - in the distance. It's not very loud, so it must not be close, but the sound is still there. At the very least, Prussia isn't lying to him. Not about this.

The whole 'you can walk around the house' feels too much like a set-up though. He's on edge even as the albino nation in front of him flushes lightly and clears his throat.

"Look, ah," Prussia mumbles. "Do you play any card games? Some kind of poker or something?"

Canada blinks. "Uhm. Yeah. I play a few."

Prussia's red eyes light up immediately. "Awesome. Come play with me then."

All of his warning bells are going off, but nothing is happening and it's making him even more on edge. This isn't right. Prussia is making nice with his prisoner. Even as he gets up and follows the albino nation out of the room, Canada can't help but keep his distance and hold his breath in anticipation of some kind of trick.

It just...doesn't make sense to be anything else, does it? Biting the inside of his cheek, he refuses to bring up a conversation, instead watching carefully as Prussia leads him down some rickety stairs, through a hallway, and into a den of some sort.

The lighting is dim but soothing coming from antique lamps placed around the room. There is a radio, as Prussia had said, and it's definitely playing music. Classical? Never would have pegged Prussia as the type. More surprises every day, apparently. There's also a television set, but the rabbit ears are spread out in every direction because it looks like once again, Prussia was telling the truth about it being difficult.

Still. He doesn't like this. It's too much of an attempt to play friendly. It's too obvious.

He freezes as Prussia sits down at a well carved wooden table, pulling up a chair and gesturing at another one. Maybe it's not an attempt to be friendly to twist him for information. Maybe he really is wanting to be friendly. He stares at the red eyes for a moment, trying to delve into their depths and figure out their secrets, but he only gets a smirk for his trouble.

"You know," Prussia says as he sits and Canada slowly finds a spot across from him. "If we're going to be playing cards, we might as well give out our human names."

Canada holds back the urge to jerk back at the strange request. "Huh? You think so?"

The albino nation takes a deck of cards and begins to shuffle them. Canada watches his fingers move, finding it mesmerizing how quick and in control the man is in such a situation. Here he is all on edge and Prussia is treating it like nothing out of the ordinary.

Which makes his attempt of a smile fall immediately. Prussia has probably done this a million times with a million different people, nation or human. So it's nothing new to him, nothing special. He's just bored and reaching out because his own people aren't being so nice to him. Even if it's strange for them to treat their own nation like that…

"Yeah, it's like a form of, well, maybe not friendship, but camaraderie?" The other nation says as he deals out cards for their game. "I'm always playing cards with my soldiers during down time. Can't exactly go by Prussia around them. The only nation I've played cards with that, well, that you'd know well enough would be Arthur or Franics." He flashes his grin and for a moment Canada melts in his seat. "And we're already on a first name basis thanks to the past."

Taking a breath, Canada nods and awkwardly gives the other nation what he wants. "Oh. Uhm. I'm Matthew. And you?"

"Gilbert." There's that smile again. It's different from the smirk, more relaxed and homey. Canada can't help but stare even as the man in front of him drops the smile to focus on his cards. Right. Game. Focus. "Relax a bit, Matthew. Loosen up. Have some fun."

Warmth spills into his stomach when Prussia says his name. It shouldn't. It really shouldn't. He has to remind himself so often that it's starting to become more than he can handle, but he manages to squeak out a few words as he tries to draw a winning hand.

"Fun? But I'm a prisoner here. There's nothing fun about it."

"No, but that's why you have to make the most of it. Considering how nice I'm being."

"To be honest, you're kind of freaking me out with how nice you're being."

"It's nothing sinister, I promise. I'm just bored and - ah - well -" Prussia clears his throat. "You were right. The other day."

This makes Canada look away from his cards. He's pretty sure he has a winning hand anyway, especially with how Prussia is acting. If he's reading him right. He doesn't know the albino nation all that well, yet, but he's learned to trust his gut instincts about people. They're usually right.

"About what?"

Red eyes look away from him and grunt as Prussia mumbles. "About the whole needing to talk to someone thing."

"I'm the same way."

There's that smile again, and Canada's jitters are beginning to melt away the longer they talk. Then Prussia drops a bomb. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

Just in time for his heart to skip a beat. "H-huh?"

"Nothing," Prussia rushes out. "Didn't mean to say that out loud."

"But you did." Canada states. "And now I'm confused."

"Well then you get to stay confused."

Prussia continues to act flustered, moving his cards around in his hand, mumbling something under his breath. His white skin flushes obviously around his cheeks and he has to admit, it's kind of cute. The man keeps his mouth closed though.

So Canada smiles and shakes his head, not sure why he's about to say this but finding it hard to hold it in any longer. "Well, for what it's worth. I'm starting to like you, too."

"Why?" Prussia says, with a raised eyebrow. "I know I'm awesome, but - I'm part of what's keeping you captive here."

He lets out a breath, looks down at his cards, tries to appear nonchalant as he shrugs. "I think you're just following orders. I don't think you're doing these things because you want to - any of these things."

Gilbert looks up at him, mouth opening slightly before he catches himself. Matthew knows he has him pegged now. And it's hard not to smirk a little himself. Hell, it feels nice humanizing the other nation a little now. Gilbert is a nice name.

"That - that could be dangerous thinking for a captive," Gilbert says after a moment. "You're lucky that you're right."

"I know I'm right." Matthew says, calling the end to the game and showing his cards. He lets the smirk run free across his face now as he notes the other nation's wide-eyed shock and whispered German curse. "I'm really good at reading people, remember?"