Wiktor: Grüß Gott. Thanks to our anonymous reviewer, The Night Actor for their kind review. And I agree with you. I recently got into this pairing, with the help of my roommate, and once I tried to find a good fanfiction, I just couldn't find all that much so I decided to write what I was looking for. I will most likely write more after this as well. I never thought in my life that I would be pairing my country with the United States, however, but somehow it works. Anyways, please review if you read, and danke schön!
As the night ticked on, and minutes melted into long hours, one by one vivid headlights flashed in the windows as the lot outside progressively emptied. Final farewells were said in a mish-mosh of languages and dialects, coats were retrieved and thick yawns exchanged. America had kept his promise and struck up a repulsively compassionate conversation with an especially aggravated Iran, provoking him to the point where he had to pull his hands behind his back and grind his teeth in a painstakingly misleading smirk. But that too wound down to an eventual end with hurried, and much needed, leave from the young-faced Middle Eastern country.
America grinned in the usual manner, waving an extended farewell with his fingers and receiving a blistering glower before Iran spun on his heel, stepping out into the thickening Viennese flurry, cloak fluttering behind him in the gust. His bodyguards looked America over a final time before following, nearly slamming the front door in their vehemence. Finally, it was quiet, with the exception of the relaxed conversation between England and his girlfriend as they smoked outside on the walkway and the clatter of house maids and men, continuing to clean the platters in the other room.
"Sir?" One of America's advisors mumbled from beside him, giving a fat yawn before popping his fingers indolently. "Unless you have business here, it's getting late."
America nodded. "Go ahead without me." He responded, unsure of what to say next. "I've got to go…" he trailed off and tried to find of an appropriate justification for his not following. What, with all the talk against Austria and jokes about how ridiculous America thought his voice was, he couldn't let his men think he was two-faced. Because he wasn't. Totally wasn't.
"Oh, is this about Ms. Fiji? I saw you two together earlier; cute gal." The other said casually, tucking his arms into the sleeves of his grey woolen coat and struggling to button it down the front.
Praise the heavens; it wasn't often that America got fitting material in uncomfortable situations like this, especially material that he could play off of so well. He smiled to himself; this was much more easy than he had thought it would be.
"Yeah, duh! Who else would it be? She wanted to talk to me in private about something. You know how women are." He chuckled, acting natural. "Go ahead and warm up the car. I don't wanna freeze my ass off when I get out there."
The two advisers exchanged an apprehensive glimpse before turning and heading out on their own, hands buried deep in their pockets.
"Take your time, Sir. Our flight doesn't leave until tomorrow afternoon."
Pleased with his performance, America nodded. He was absolutely sure that his advisers probably suspected something, as they were trained to look for signs of dishonesty, but he honestly didn't care at the moment. He couldn't bring himself to. He was far too tired and far too resolute with his decision to deal with reservations and superfluous prodding at such an hour. At least now, he could accomplish, with any luck, what he had set his mind to.
Further down the lengthy corridor, a maid slowly slunk out of the large kitchen door, a silver tea tray balanced dexterously in her dainty palm and a petite, white porcelain cup in the other. She hummed slowly and mumbled something in German under her breath as she nearly dropped the tray, staring fixedly at the floor as she walked hurriedly along.
America lit up at the thought that he hadn't been completely abandoned by the occupants of the home. "Ah, excuse me?" He called noisily. "Do you speak any English?"
The girl looked up and stopped, cocking her head and leaning forward a bit. She narrowed her eyes as if puzzled, blinking several times. "Guten Abend? (Good evening?)" She stated as if it were a question.
"Yes? Hello!" America flashed her a kind smile, moving to where she stood and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you know where Austria is?" He responded, eagerness growing once again.
The poor maid blinked once more and glanced to the side, running through the question and mouthing his words to herself before peeking back up. Suddenly and without warning, she appeared almost appalled and shook her head in total displeasure, pushing past him and continuing across the polished hardwood floor.
America was just as puzzled; she obviously didn't know English, or at least not much. She must have misinterpreted his motives. "Hey! Wait!" he shouted, running after her.
Once again the maid stopped and spun around, a pouty scowl on her face. "Verschwinde! (Get lost!)" She demanded, visibly perturbed.
America held his hands up in defense at her snappy attitude. "Would you just listen to me? Hang on." He thought a moment. "S-Sprechen Sie Englisch? (D-Do you speak English?)" He asked, hesitant. It had been years since he had needed to speak German of any level and, as many modern Germanic citizens spoke English, there was never a need for him to. Figures he may have gotten the only one in the manor who probably didn't.
A look of understanding finally graced the maid's pastel face. She grinned, but shook her head. "Nein (No.)." She replied plainly, but with such interest, America thought she may pop at the fact that they could now communicate a bit.
Well, at least they had reached some semblance of an agreement. But now he had to pull more words from his brain, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep up this precision. "Um," he began, "Ich bin Amerikaner. (I am American.)" He started, watching for her nod of authorization and continuing when she complied. "Ich…(I…)" Shit! He couldn't remember how to ask for someone. He bounced on his heels a moment and rocked on the balls of his feet, trying to jog his memory, but the words refused to come.
"Ja…?(Yes…?)" She encouraged, flipping her long blonde ponytail and waiting for him to come up with an appropriate answer.
After a few more seconds, America gave up. "Österreich. (Austria.)" He gave up and blurted out with as best pronunciation as he could. There was no way to misinterpret that for anything else. She did work for the guy, after all.
After a few moments, the maid gave a small nod of acquiesce and a crafty half smile, showing that America had gotten his point across, though not as effectively as he wished. He was rustier in the language than he should have been.
"Kommen Sie mit. (Come with me.)" She chuckled formally, motioning for him to follow with a turn of the head.
She walked promptly, silvery dish and all, and led her guest to the right, through the host room where she shouted out strident and demanding orders to the other maids, who had slumped, exhausted from the night's endeavors, into the cushioned seats. America felt sorry for them as he heard them groan, pulling themselves up to retrieve their cleaning equipment and resume their chores. However, one of the men bounded forward, grabbing America's guide by the shoulder. He regained his breath, talking quickly and frantically and motioning over and over with his hands to in a wild display of fanaticism.
"What's wrong? Can I help?" America asked, always willing to lend a hand.
Thank goodness, the man knew English. He nodded worriedly, snatching the tray from the blonde maid's hands and thrusting it into America's.
"Please!" He begged, grabbing the cup and setting it atop the tray with a tiny clink. "Don't spill the pot." He instructed intensely.
America blinked, taken aback by the sudden escalation of events. "Whoa, dude, I didn't mean-"
The man hushed him and pointed to the closed door on the far side of the room. "Go! We are already behind! A worker has dropped a platter and cut herself, and we need Johanna to help us." He began to push Johanna on, who rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"Oh shit, if she's bleeding I could go get something." America offered, stepping forward to follow.
The man halted him with an open hand. "I'm not worried about the worker!" He shook his head. "I'm worried about the platter she broke! We need to find all of the pieces before Herr Edelstein comes to check. Please," he pleaded again, "take that to his office now."
Johanna pushed the frantic worker off of her arm, nearly knocking his thin rimmed glasses from his crooked nose, before rushing off in a fit, everyone cowering behind in her shadow. America swallowed, clutching resolutely to the tiny handles of the tray as he heard her bark from the lobby, then noticed the sound of a young woman sobbing uncontrollably at the furious words. Damn, this Johanna was as accusatory as nails being driven into timber. America turned his back to the tumult and shrugged, silently moving across the plush carpet. She would have been magnificent in the military; it was a shame she was wasting that kind of influence in a paltry cleaning trade. But what could he say? She was definitely effective, and Austria was lucky to have her.
When America reached the rustic door he placing the loaded carefully atop his fingers, balancing a moment, before turning the worn knob and letting himself in without so much as a knock. The darkness of the room was unforeseen, but equally soothing, a lone lamp left to the back corner to cast an inviting yellow glow. There was a large oak desk, stained dark to blend into the shadows of the petite room. Surprisingly, it was as disorderly and disheveled as America's own study; suffocating under a sea of papers and pens, a stray cup or two, and assorted meaningless keepsakes. Austria's personal bookshelf was thoroughly remarkable; stretching from the floorboards to the ceiling and crammed full of German novels, handwritten texts, and various philosophies from around the world. However, there was no sign of Austria himself, oddly enough.
Damn it! America grumbled to himself, peeking over the top of the desk. Where the hell is he?
A sudden chill forced a shiver down his spine, spinning him around and landing him to face the opposite wall. He frowned at the sight. A bulky glass door leading to an outside balcony had been left cracked, allowing a thin layer of frost to crust against the frigid panes. A slow but crisp wind drifted in, compelling America to follow its fresh earthy scent. He took a deep breath and pulled the door open, careful not to cause an audible creek, before poking his head out into the night. Finally, he had found who he was looking for. Austria sat alone with his coat draped over the back of his seat, occasionally brushing a bit of snow from his collar as it descended from the overcast sky, face partially illuminated by the insipid light of the gradually calming streets below. He gave a small sigh when his glasses fogged, slipping them off and carefully cleaning them on his sleeve before returning them to the bridge of his nose, adjusting his hair with his fingers to accommodate them.
America blinked, and cleared his throat. "Aren't you cold out here?" He wondered, causing Austria to jump in his seat.
He turned and stiffed, hastily standing and swiping his coat, drawing it around his shoulders in a single fluid sweep. "What are you doing here?" He snapped dryly, frowning at the sight of the tray. "Where did you get that?"
America gave a false smile. "Lovely to see you too." He sneered sarcastically. He paused before gradually trudging forward to place the tray on the small decorative end table between the two chairs. "A maid gave it to me. I think her name was Johanna." He mumbled in clarification.
"Johanna? Why didn't she bring it here herself?" Austria asked tersely, apparently aware of whom America was talking about.
America helped himself to one of the seats, leaning forward to rest his elbows atop his knees. "I don't know," he lied, not wanting to throw the hysterical servers under the bus. "They were all so busy cleaning up, and I just happened to be here."
Austria refused to sit, crossing his arms delicately over his chest and pursing his lips. "Why are you still here?"
America looked to his shoes and clicked his heels together, trying to appear as apathetic as he possibly could. "Eh, I got hung up talking to England before he left, so I just sorta hung around for a while."
"Well, you have overstayed your welcome." Austria countered shortly.
"Oh, come on! I helped you out and brought your tea. The least you could do is sit and drink it."
For a moment, America thought that Austria was never going to budge from his rigid stance. But, eventually, his shoulders relaxed a bit and he lowered himself, not taking his eyes from America's, into the adjacent seat. He reached forward, flipping the tea cup over on its saucer and taking hold of the porcelain pot, placing a forefinger against the top to hold the round lid in place. America wrinkled his nose at the herby smell as steam curled gracefully up into the winter air. It was nauseating and bitter, something that he couldn't stand to be around.
"How can you drink that?" He coughed.
Austria brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. "More questions, when you have not answered mine? I asked why you are still here." He restated, ignoring America's comment.
America rolled his eyes and began to think. He glanced down at the pavement below and noticed a lone couple walking, the woman hanging over the man like a cat clinging to warmth. They appeared to be laughing and joking with one another, before disappearing from view behind what looked to be a pharmacy. Finally, America inhaled deeply and turned in his seat, leaning back.
"I'm here because I need to ask you a question."
Austria blinked and took another sip. "Oh? Anything about the European Union has been solved."
America shook his head and wrung his hands, feeling his nerves creep back into his stomach. "That's not it." He felt his jaw tighten and nearly lock, but willed himself to relax. "Um, earlier when Spain asked you to play the, um, piano," he started, fidgeting in his spot.
"What about it?"
"I was wondering how you did that thing."
"Thing? What thing?"
"The thing where you made everyone cry with your music." America looked to the side. "I've never liked classical music at all, but it just felt different this time. It was," he hesitated, not wanting to give Austria the satisfaction of a compliment. "It was sort of beautiful."
Austria gently set the cup aside and frowned. "It was beautiful?" He mirrored, skeptical about what he was hearing. "I am surprised that someone like you could enjoy it."
"Well someone like me did enjoy it." America retorted. "But only a little!" He added quickly, wanting to keep his wits about him.
Austria nodded leisurely. "If that's all that you want to say, then thank you. I am glad that you enjoyed my performance." He stood to leave, taking the tray, but America stopped him, standing as well.
"I was wondering if you would teach me how to do that." He blurted out, feeling his face grow hot with the tinge of red. He wasn't sure why this was embarrassing him so much, but it was. "Everyone else can read sheet music, and I never learned how. I want to be able to make people feel that way, too." This time he didn't mask his sincerity.
Austria slumped a bit, obviously not interested. "It is the holiday, and these are busy times." He stated simply. "I'm sure you will understand."
Shit. America could feel his opportunity slipping away from him. He needed to think quickly. "What if I pay you?" He suggested hastily. "Strait from my pocket." He thought a moment. "Two hundred a day until after Christmas." He bargained.
This caught Austria's attention as he began to reconsider. "You want to learn how to play the piano that badly?" He prompted, still a bit skeptical of America's true motives. "You don't have another teacher?"
When it was said aloud, America felt like an idiot. It sounded bizarre and atypical of his habitually lighthearted persona, and the subtle tonal differences in Austria's voice made America want to fight him. Still, he had to keep a pleasant air about him.
"I think so." America nodded in agreement, shivering again. "And...I don't really know anyone else who can play like that. It was really neat how you made everyone's emotions come out, and I wanna learn how." He reaffirmed his purpose, careful to not sound too overbearing. "I could even exchange currency and pay you in Euros if you want."
Austria was torn between agreement and disagreement. It was a fair offer, being paid every day for two weeks and in his own currency of all things. That would be all the time he would need to teach America basic music literacy, but extremely basic at that. He wasn't sure if it would be entirely worth it for the other country to try. Still, this was an offer that no one could refuse.
"I want you here tomorrow, early." Austria instructed, turning his nose up slightly in an attempt to keep his regal air. He couldn't let America think that he had won, because he hadn't. That nuisance should just be happy that he had agreed.
America grinned. "Really? Awesome!" He shouted excitedly. "I'll tell my men that they need to cancel our flight back home."
"No, they still need to leave. I do not want them running through my manor." Austria replied, moving back inside.
America followed, confused. "Wait, am I staying here?" He pointed to the floor. He had a hotel set up not far from here, there wasn't much reason for him to stay.
"That is what you wanted, yes?" Austria asked, sifting through his the papers of his desk to accommodate the tray before sitting.
America was taken aback. "I guess." He replied gradually with a nod. "I will get all my stuff and be here early."
"Good, now please take your leave." Austria brushed him off with the flick of his wrist, diving directly into what appeared to be some sort of financial trouble.
America stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to stifle a smile to little avail. "Cool. Well, goodnight then."
When Austria said nothing, America let himself out, closing the door with a tiny click behind him. He slumped back against the wood for a moment to collect his thoughts, before adjusting his jacket and heading for the front. He couldn't deny his excitement, but working with someone just as bombastic as himself was going to be a real trip, and he wasn't quite sure how he would manage yet. America grinned to himself again. Why worry? Austria had agreed, with some prompting and promise of an empty wallet, and that was all that mattered. Who knows, maybe the two would even become friends? America nearly laughed at the thought. This was more like a business meeting than a social experiment. Being friends would never happen; he had a more likely chance of economic collapse than that. Yeah…not in a million years.
Wiktor: Hope you enjoyed! Please review if you read, and danke.
