Wiktor: Two updates in one day. I'm feeling on fire. Yes in diddly. Let's do this.
America had never been more bored in his life, or at least he thought so. Austria had retreated into his recluse-like seclusion for almost an hour, and waiting for the Christmas tree to be delivered for decoration was too much anticipation for America. He groaned and rolled over on the sofa he was lying on, kicking off his shoes haphazardly. He reached back and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. It was time to pull a third grade trick and get Austria to come into the sitting room to have fun.
America casually opened his messenger and began to type. "Come downstairs." Send.
A few minutes passed before he received a fairly straightforward reply. "No."
"Come downstairs please."
"I'm busy."
"I need you to bring like 10 blankets with you and a shit ton of pillows I wanna do something cool."
America giggled. He hadn't done this since he was…well it honestly hadn't been long ago that he had concocted something like this. He didn't care if he was a grown man; he was still allowed to have fun like the child he was at heart.
A long while passed, and there was no response from Austria. Finally, and much to America's amusement, Austria had decided to bring what he asked for, Burkhart trailing close behind with a sack stuffed with pillows.
"Are you sleeping here?" Austria mused after Burkhart left.
"The great prince has come down from his tower to grace us with his presence!" America half laughed, standing up and bowing to his fictional ruler. "Forgive me, Sire, but your castle is not yet constructed. We must build one at once!"
This was his only shot to try and get Austria out of his never ending holiday depression. America opened one eye and peeked, extending a hand and raising from his formal bow of respect.
"Let's play a game." He offered. Before Austria could scoff at the notion, America cut him off. "I know it's for little kids, but you need to have some fun. You can be the prince. No, no! You can be the Archduke!"
Austria couldn't believe this. First the crazy request of blankets and pillows for God knows what was to come, and now America wanted to play such a ridiculous sport? He had to admit it was practically comical, and Austria had always wished in confidence to be an Archduke before Habsburg had collapsed. It was a title given only to human rulers, though he had pestered the royal family to grant him nobility many a time. America was trying awfully hard to make up for their obstinate conversation earlier in the day, so Austria decided just this once to indulge him in his efforts.
"I will play along," he said gradually, reeling America in slowly, "But I will not laugh for you if this is what you are wanting."
America beamed with delight and flew down, dismantling the couch and throwing the cushions carelessly behind him. "Alright! Oh I mean," He cleared his throat and put on what almost sounded like a poorly imitated British accent, "Alright, Sire!" He winked.
"What are you making?" Austria asked, watching America stack the pillows together in a wobbly tower.
"Get down on the floor with me." America waved him down and pointed to the other pillows. "Hand me some more of those. They look like castle material!"
Austria put a hand over his mouth and tried desperately not to let a smile peak across his face. They were making a blanket fort. This was the dumbest idea America could have ever had, but here he was sitting on the floor waist deep in pillows and blankets, building a "castle" around the sofa.
"We're gonna make sure you're so damn protected! Those Prussians will never break through our tight ass defenses."
"The Prussians would be difficult to stop. The easiest way to bring down their forces would be to destroy them before they arrive." Austria stated in a matter of fact tone, getting into the game.
America hopped up and looked around hastily, as though he was experiencing a frantic fit of panic. "Oh shit they're coming! We have to stop them. Sire, finish constructing the castle and I'll grab my sword." He dashed off to the fireplace, leaving Austria to finish what they had started together.
With America gone, Austria could stop holding his breath and smile to himself. He reached to his left and grabbed a few blankets, standing to drape them as evenly as he could from the top of the sofa to the puffy white cushions on the floor. This was completely idiotic.
From the other side of the room, America gave a battle cry and returned with a black iron poker he had found near the fireplace, swinging it dangerously in front of him like he was slaying an invisible army.
"Sire, retreat inside the castle! We're surrounded! We must fall back!" he cried, making a mad dash for the hole Austria had left in their fort.
Austria scooted to the back to allow America room to squish his way into the castle. The younger nation drew his knees to his chest.
"Hoist up the drawbridge!" He barked a command to the air.
"Yes, Sir, Mr. Amazing Super Knight!" America responded to himself in a gruff voice, tossing one of the spare pillows in front of the cramped opening of the fort. He laughed a maniacal laugh and responded to himself once more. "Now they will never get inside!"
Austria shook his head and leaned his back against the sofa, wondering how long they would have to stay inside the small fort to wait out the Prussian invasion. "There is something wrong with you." He noted, trying to fix a gap in the blanket.
"Well, we'll be here for a long time until they get bored and leave to watch television." America pointed out in a very serious tone. "It could be days! Weeks! We may have to have Burkhart get us snacks because the kitchen is in the middle of a warzone!"
Austria smiled a bit. "Stop it. This is ridiculous."
America rolled over onto his belly, accidentally kicking down their drawbridge. He didn't seem to notice. "Hey while we're down here, let's play truth or dare!"
Austria tried to back out, but America kept going, dragging him deeper into his delusional imagination.
"I'll go first! You don't even have to ask. I want to do a truth first just to break the ice." He giggled. "What happens in the blanket fort, stays in the blanket fort, bro. No exceptions!"
Austria narrowed his eyes playfully. They were actually going to do this? Wasn't this game designed for teenage girls and drunk women? Either way, as long as America had him trapped in the blanket castle, he was going to show a tiny bit of his wild side. America couldn't think he was a boring prude forever, and one tiny instance couldn't do too much damage to his reputation.
"Come on, dude, I'm waiting." America was nearly bursting with excitement. "Hit me with a good one!"
It didn't take Austria long to come up with a question. "Who was the first person you've ever had relations with?"
America gasped and scrambled backwards at the unexpectedly, and somewhat raunchy, question. He whistled in approval and gave a slow clap at this newfound side to Austria. He liked it.
"Woah! Austria, way to loosen up a little!" He pushed him lightly in the shoulder. "Which first you want? Girl? Guy?"
Austria blinked. "You have slept with…men?"
"Yeah! I've slept with a ton of guys. I'm not ashamed of it."
"I want to know both." Austria crossed his arms smugly. He would eventually find something to embarrass America by.
America took a deep breath, then spilled his secret. "The first girl I slept with was back right before the Revolution. No shit. Her name was Chrisanne I think. I only slept with her to stick it to England's dumb ass rules. Then in my very first year of the first college I ever went to I met a guy who was majoring in Anthropology named Thomas and…yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his face flush a little. "It's my turn now," He said, recollecting himself. "Truth or dare?"
Austria decided to play it safe just for a little while. "Truth."
Immediately America blurted out his question. "What's your biggest fetish?"
While America waited patiently for his response, Austria covered his face with his hands. Oh God, why did he have to ask something so embarrassing? He was almost sure that America would have let him take it easy during the first question, but this was just barbaric!
"Tick tock, you have to answer otherwise I'll go grab some beer and you'll have to take a shot!" America teased.
"That is not part of the rules." Austria stuttered through his hands. This was degrading! "Why would you want to know something like this?"
America burst out laughing. "It's only the first question and you're already chickening out?" He rolled onto the floor once more and curled up inside a blanket, snorting like a pig at Austria's extreme embarrassment. "Just tell me or you'll have to take a shot!"
Austria clenched his fists. "If you insist, my biggest fetish is leather." The end of his sentence trailed off to almost a squeak.
"Oh, ho!" America leaned forward. "What kind of leather are we talking about?"
Austria pushed him away. "You are only allowed to ask one question." He stuck his nose in the air. "Now, truth or dare."
"So does my jacket do it for you?" America smirked teasingly, trying to spark a reaction in Austria. "Does it turn you on?"
"Of course not, you fool!" Austria shouted. "You have no idea what I am talking about!"
"Alright, calm down. I want a dare this time." America challenged.
This was too good to be true. This was Austria's chance at sweet revenge for all of the hardship America had put him through. All of the snowball fights, uncooperative questions, and horrendous hygiene had led up to this moment. Austria wasn't afraid to be sadistic.
"I dare you," he hissed, enjoying this once in a lifetime moment, "to stick a hot coal from the fire in your mouth."
America's eyes narrowed to slits. "You wouldn't." he growled.
Austria eyed him evilly, ushering him out of the tent to watch his twisted masterpiece unfold.
America couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're on."
The two crawled from the fort, America took care to dodge several invisible Prussians before trudging to his death at the fireplace. As a country, he would undoubtedly regenerate soon, but the pain of having something smoldering hit his tastebuds was terrifying. However, he couldn't back out at this point. Austria would make fun of him for the rest of his days.
"Go on." Austria couldn't wait.
America swallowed and glanced at the fire dancing over the ashen logs of the fireplace. They seemed to mock him and laugh at the look of apprehension plastered over his face. America tried hard to pull his determination together. He was the toughest person he knew, and a little heat couldn't beat him! He reached for a pick and shoved it into the fire, carefully selecting a coal small enough to place on the tip of his tongue. His heart beat wild in his chest as he tediously pulled it from the smoldering flame. Squeezing his eyes shut he brought the pick to his mouth and released the clamp, horrified of the feeling that was to come. The coal fell.
"What have you done?!" Austria yelped.
America's eyes flew open when he heard Austria stumble back. America sighed with relief when he realized with great content that the coal had missed his tongue…and landed on the rug.
"Oh shit!" America cried, tossing the pick to the side when he noticed the tiny flame chewing a deep hole through the expensive fibers of Austria's vintage rug.
"Put it out this instant!" Austria demanded.
"Uh…" America didn't have anything to put it out with. Without reasoning with himself he stomped down hard on the coal, successfully extinguishing the flame, but sending a searing pain through his toes instead.
"Holy fuck!" He fell backwards and clutched his foot like a child. "God dammit, mother fucking, piece of shit!" He rambled on irately, not bothering to glance down at the black stain on the floor.
Through his pain, America stopped yelling furiously when he noticed a velvety mirth to his side. As much as he had tried to hide it, he simply couldn't contain his gratification any longer. At first, America thought Austria was crying, the mild rise and fall of his slim shoulders giving away his sobs. What he heard instead was breathtaking. Austria was laughing. It was arid but charming, the soft sugary sound that America had been trying to get out of him for many days to no avail. Despite the pain ripping through the bottom of his foot, America smiled through his tears at the beautiful, nasally melody. It filled him up and made him feel like he could accomplish anything, and he never wanted to hear anything else.
"You have a nice laugh." He grunted through his blister.
Austria stopped and smiled at him, not once trying to bite him back with a jaunty retort. "Let me get you some water."
It was later decided that truth or dare was too hazardous to continue around Austria's many luxurious belongings. Not long after America had been doctored up by Austria's maid, the Christmas tree arrived and the two decorated it with ease, America making a fuss about having to stand on one foot to reach the tip top. It was truly a lively tree. The rustic decorations that Austria had found stuffed in a closet full of junk didn't do the vibrant green much justice with their rusted and weathered age, but America had decided that it gave the tree character. The night was winding down, and the two had gawkily stuffed themselves back into their fabric fortress.
Austria, laying on his back, reached up and ran his hand over the soft fabric roof of the tent. It was surprisingly relaxed and cozy inside, the only sound being faint Christmas music sounding from the kitchen where Johanna was cleaning and the mellifluous crackle of the fire. He was long overdue for this kind of excitement, and the boyish inquisitiveness of America's playful nature brought back memories of when children still lived in his home. Though they had never considered him one, Austria always took pride in being a father, fulfilled by passing on his own memories of reckless failings to make sure that his children wouldn't do the same.
America lay next to him, lost in thought. It was rare to see his expression so plain and neutral. How could this intense, powerful country come to have made a blanket fort with a nobody? Austria rolled his eyes, retracting his own thought. Why on earth would he have decided to make it in the first place. Still, a comment from earlier still rang clear like a bell in his mind;
You have a nice laugh.
"America," Austria began, breaking the silence, "I am curious. What was it like being with a man? I was married to Spain, but it was purely political."
Usually, one would have been put off by such a personal question, but America didn't really care. Nothing truly embarrassed him anymore, not after the incredible upheaval with the Great Depression.
"It's different than being with a woman." America replied. "It feels different. Not a bad different, but just different. It's been a while since I've done it with anyone, so don't expect exclusive details." He chuckled.
Austria nodded. "Most of us are far too busy to have relations. When my power was at its peak, it was still normal for countries to marry. Those times were simple."
America propped himself up on his elbow. "Exactly! Someone finally gets it. I don't get why it's considered so bad now for countries to date. Everyone expects us to marry humans." He sighed. "What's the point? They die fast so it's not like I can fully love someone who dies after eighty-something years. I want a long term relationship."
America was clearly harboring some unresolved feelings towards the new convention. In an attempt to make nations appear more connected with the public, and to avoid further political unrest in a time that was so desperate for positive international relations, countries were silently forbidden from entering relationships with one another. War and alliances made it far too complicated. Austria would know.
"It is nice being with someone who refuses to die." He responded, after a minute speaking again. "What do you like about me?"
America rolled over, embarrassed that Austria hadn't forgotten about his biggest blunder. "I like having you as a friend." He lied dryly, staring through the space underneath the sofa.
Austria didn't know how to answer. It was sort of a respite hearing America clarify what he had meant earlier in the day. He decided it would be wise to end the conversation, before the inevitable escalation of showmanship got to the both of them once more. He placed a hand on America's shoulder, then quickly drew it back.
"Goodnight, America." He said simply before leaving the tent.
America held his breath, turning back over and peaking through the opening of the tent while being careful not to be caught. He spied on Austria, biting his lip and waiting for the telltale sign of footsteps on the stairs before stealthily crawling from the floor and following. If he had planned everything correctly, Austria would have gone to bed, leaving his study unattended. He creeped upstairs like a cat, staying low to the floor to minimize the long creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. When he reached the top he winced when he planted straight on his bandaged toes, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from swearing. Sure enough, Austria's door was closed. After a silent cheer of success at his plan going smoothly, America hurried down and around the corner to where Austria's study stood. He had never dared to venture inside, an earlier warning from Burkhart had kept the room at a foreboding distance to lurk like a sly phantom in his peripheries.
Surprisingly, the door wasn't locked. America slowly opened the door, stopping dead in his tracks when the dilapidated hinges of the door screamed out their unforgiving tune. He paused a moment and listened for movement before stepping inside and shutting the door with another agonizingly brash creak behind him. He had seen a few of Austria's offices, but this was much different than any room in the house. It reflected Austria's true hidden nature of being less than tidy, a variety of knickknacks and useless papers were scattered on every surface. A tall cherry stained bookshelf stood in the corner, packed to the brim with many German and Austrian classics that America couldn't recognize. In the center of the room, directly in front of the window, sat a desk. A few timeworn journals were stacked in a mound in the corner with what looked to be a dozen broken pens. America walked behind the desk and slid himself into Austria's shabby dark blue chair and noticed a warm black cardigan swathed loosely over one of the armrests. He ran the delicate knit work through his fingers and, double checking that there were absolutely no prying eyes on him, brought it to his nose. He exhaled at the delicate scent. It smelled weakly of a dated coffee spill and something sweet and peachy that America couldn't identify. As disturbing as he felt in the back of his mind, he was intoxicated by Austria's subtle and feminine smell, swearing that he could get drunk on it alone.
America carefully replaced the cardigan in the exact position he found it before going to work scouring the room for clues as to why Austria was so ill. The bookshelf? Nothing but old books and a picture of Hungary stuffed between some pages of what looked like a crime novel. The end tables? All tax returns and bills that were filed on time. What about the desk? A checkbook, an adult coloring book, and a package of blank sheet music yet to be opened. After what felt like an eternity, America had exhausted all efforts at finding something incriminating. The entire room was spotless, in a figurative sense. No documented conflict, financial fraud, or anything else hinting to why Austria was in the state that he was in.
America slumped back down in the chair. This was hopeless! Still, there was one last place that he hadn't probed through. One of Austria's journals was written in German. America had initially pushed it away out of lack of curiosity, but he was beginning to realize, obviously, that Austria's secrets would probably be in his own language. He grabbed the tattered book from atop the desk, turning it over a few times and opening it. The pages crinkled with time and felt as though they had been subject to extensive water damage, the product of spilling tea and coffee again and again. Austria was quite clumsy. A dainty fabric bookmark rest between the pages, and America squinted to read the date at the top of the page. It was dated today. America took a deep shaky breath. This was it, the moment he was waiting for! He could finally know what was eating Austria alive.
After translating a few of the words with his phone, America was incredibly displeased with the contents. What it seemed to be was a detailed record of everything that Austria would want to eat and drink and the kcalories that went with them. America huffed and slammed the journal on the desk. There was absolutely nothing! Keeping a food diary was a little strange, especially with how emaciated Austria had become in modern times. Surely this couldn't be anything significant.
Distraught at being thrusted back to step one in the great Austria caper, America trudged out and slowly sunk down the stairs back to the sitting room to wallow around in his tent like a pouting child. He rounded the corner and jumped a little when he noticed Austria sitting unaccompanied and unmoving in front of the fire, a simmering cup of tea clasped in his long fingers. America watched him take a slow sip. It was obvious that he was completely unaware of America's presence in the doorway because of his apparent informalities. Even while they ran around together earlier acting like drunken teenagers, Austria had still maintained somewhat of an elegant poise. Now, he looked a bit simple and absolutely tranquil, with a blanket drawn around his slumped shoulders.
"I thought you went to bed." America called, shattering the peace.
Austria didn't bother to stiffen up into his normal posture. "I was cold and I came down here for the fire."
America chuckled and plopped down on the ground next to him, yawning and trying to ignore the obvious black streak he had caused on Austria's plush carpet. "In that boiling room? How the hell did you get cold?"
"It was not physical." Austria mumbled. "When I find it hard to sleep, I like to stare into the fire and watch it die."
"Doesn't that blind you?"
"No."
"Oh wait, I forgot you're already blind."
"That is not funny!"
America grinned and admired the fire as well. It was slowly snuffing out, suffocating feebly in its own ashes and debris as it tried to find more fresh material to burn. He couldn't really understand why Austria would want to indulge in something so mind numbingly dreary.
"Do you want to sleep down here tonight?" America offered. "We have the castle, Sire. A room fit for a king!" He exclaimed with a flashy thumbs up. "Plus, I'm kind of scared to sleep in my room because I heard footsteps last night. There's a ghost in your house."
Austria knew all too well who's footsteps resonated in America's room last night, but he was too tired to put up a good fight. Instead he just nodded, unsure to which comment he was agreeing to.
"Alright, it's like a slumber party, but manlier!" America helped Austria from the floor, half carrying him to the entrance of the tent and practically dragging him inside. "We can stay up late and tell ghost stories about the ghost that lives in your house, and I can go and make some popcorn or something. I have a horror movie saved on my phone if you want to watch it!"
America turned to Austria and blinked. He had already fallen asleep. It seemed as though the hypnotic force of color shaking throughout the fire and dancing eerily across the floor had done its job in rendering Austria exhausted. America hadn't seen him this still since the day he had arrived at his home for his vacation, catching him sleeping like a china doll in his bedroom. He considered taking another embarrassing photo to flaunt around, but elected not to. Instead, he got comfortable on the cool floor and wrapped himself in a thick blanket, watching Austria's chest heave slightly with every breath. He was out like a light. Somehow, he looked more at peace with himself when he was slumbering than when he was up and about during the day. There was no subtle winces of discomfort or sorrow laced in his eyes. There was just Austria as himself. America wondered morbidly if this is how he would look if he were dead. In his life, America had witnessed hundreds of thousands of deaths, from his soldiers slain in combat to his good human friends passing on with ripe old age and experience whispering as their ghosts. Austria wouldn't die anytime soon. From the looks of it, his country and political reckonings were all stable.
"I'm glad you won't die." America whispered, smiling to himself. "Humans always die like we talked about, but you won't die."
He moved closer and noticed the lack of warmth coming from Austria's body. He was always frozen cold, sort of like his sometimes icy personality and bedside manner. America pulled his blanket off and spread it out over his sleeping friend.
"You know, I could be your hero if you weren't such an asshole." He joked, lightly running his hand over Austria's forearm to generate some heat. "We could work out a stronger alliance system and I could become your trade partner if my boss would let me. You would never have to worry about paying back Germany or anyone else ever again."
Austria unconsciously rolled over to face him, and America pulled his glasses from behind his ears, setting them aside on the sofa above them.
"All of your stress would be gone if you listened to me." Inquisitively, and at a snail's pace, America gradually moved his fingers up to Austria's face. "What the hell are you hiding? You know I won't stop until you're better." He ran his fingertips lightly over Austria's cheek, tracing his features like an art student sketching from a model. "What the hell are you?" America's thumb stopped on Austria's lips, and he quickly pulled back his hand at the sudden burst of warmth. It was soothing and indescribable, noticeable enough to distinguish from his cold body. America blinked slowly and licked his own, mulling over his actions in his head. He just wanted to see what it felt like…
America felt his own thoughts trail away into the night. He leaned down and hovered over Austria, holding his breath and examining him a final time to know that he was truly sleeping. He was only a few inches away from his nose, swallowing thickly at the feeling of Austria's warm breath on his cheek. America looked to the side and back again. That was it…He only wanted to know what it felt like…He reached up and placed a hand amorously on Austria's jawline, waiting a moment before moving down and delicately pressing their lips together. His own actions were almost too abrupt for America, but he intended to savor the moment, closing his eyes and leaning further into the soft kiss he was unintentionally forcing on Austria. His unmoving lips were so soft against America's and felt natural on his skin, as if silently saying that this was right. When he finally pulled away, America heard Austria mutter something in his sleep and roll over once more, causing his heart to nearly leap out of his chest. America moved as far away as possible inside the tent and pressed himself against the far wall of pillows. He kissed Austria. He kissed him without him knowing. America felt shame wiggle its way into his heavy chest, curling up to stay for revenge against his actions. How could he bear to face his friend now, knowing he had done something so personal to Austria in his sleep? It wasn't like America had meant any malice, but regret weighed profoundly over his mind. This night had gone from fun loving, to an absolute wreck. America was no further to finding out what was wrong with Austria, and now he had the audacity to force a kiss on him? America covered his face with his palms, embarrassed. The absolute worst part of this whole calamity was, one kiss left him wanting more.
Wiktor: Alright, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review, they are always appreciated!
