edle_gestalt | PRISMATICA: Inbox

hey australia

remember that time your apeshit asstronaught guy jumped out of space onto earth

hahahhahahahaa that was so stressful
i never told u this butt
i got constipated that night from the Stress

Felix yes

prunes. prune fritters. I don't have the energy for this. go to bed

FEET LICKS yeah that was his name
felix*** hahaha what a crazy bastard am i right
this is totes weird butt i'm proud of him and i hope he's doing ok rn
no more jumping out of rockets shenannies god i hope not
now im worried about him

what??? what about prune fritters??

I think he's fine. He's a daredevil, he'll do what he will.

If it happens again, make prune fritters. Is there a reason this needed to come in at three in the morning, and is your phone just autocorrecting "but" to "butt" at this point, considering?

i mean i hope he has a good life and plenty of tasteful food and good times u know
cause what he did was pretty amazing
like props to him

hey can i come over rn??

_{[ Ignoring.. the rest of what Austria said? ]}

i guess i can't sleep
tony is out with some girl i think
idek
it's kind of boring for me atm

ur the piano man right??

Edited 2019-05-01 04:18 (UTC)

[Austria is vaguely concerned at this point. Existential crisis? Kid's probably due for one.]

Really it was, I can't argue that. There are some things we really never would have thought possible, we wake up one morning and human beings are jumping from space.

How did Tony find a date?

If you'd like, but please don't call me that.

idk i think on a date app or something
w/e im happy for him
dudes probably got probing skills
like
sexy probing skills
the sexy kind
_{[ this again.. ]}

AWESOME WOW THIS IS GREAT ok i'll be right over
oh one more thing

do u have a piano with u yet or nah?

You've given this thought. I'm sure she'll be delighted.

I think I have what I need to get it back. I was going to wait... admittedly, after last week, I was afraid something might happen where I would not have hands to play it with. It would be a waste of a precious opportunity to retrieve something from home, if that were the case.

I think I may be willing to take the risk though. She's not being played back home, is she? Even if the worst happens and I can't play her again, someone else might, and I'll still be able to hear her.

[it's 3AM america you caught him at a vulnerable time]

dude are you talking about a piano or a hooker

I could ask you the same about your companion with the way you just talked about him.

u mean tony???
he might be a hooker
idk
live ur best life man i don't judge him

so i guess this means no piano then huh??
that's okay
u can just sing for me or something instead

BTW im here!!

_{[ Right as that message sends, he's knocking enthusiastically. ]}

[Austria throws his robe on and makes his way towards the door, his hair down, but he does have his glasses on. If he's going to have a surprise visit, he's going to pick the least time consuming option in his signature look. He's shushing America before the door is even open, the sound continuing as he does open the door.]

It's late. People might think their own doors are being knocked on. Just come in.

[On the coffee table is the Dimensional Orb, and he's realizing that furniture is going to have to be moved around a bit in order for there to be room for a baby grand. He knows well enough what kind of space is needed and he's doing some half-asleep mental calculations before he finally figures out where things need to go.]

America, do you think you could move that couch to the wall perpendicular to it? I do think I can get the piano back, but it's supposed to appear when I drop that orb and there needs to be room for it.

[oh]

By the way, are you feeling all right?

_{[ He never once expected such a warm invitation inside, but Austria will see him in a pair of loose fitting, lightweight plaid pajama pants and a snug tee. Plain, but a bright orange color. He's merely being nosy and looking around Austria's place when he's asked to help. ]}

Oooh, you want me to move something? Yeah, okay. Hang on.

_{[ He just bends over and picks up the entire sofa like it was nothing, holding it above his head. It's a little cumbersome since it's a longer piece of furniture, but it looks like he has a good grip on it.. must he hold it that high, though? ]}

Where did you say again?

_{[ Austria may notice more than anyone else how much he hardly listens-- he doesn't even answer the question he was asked. ]}

[Austria is focused on the orb when America lifts the sofa, and when he turns around to see it his heart flip-flops in his chest -- it looks precarious and he's afraid it's going to make noise, but he might be blushing a little bit, too.] Ah -- that wall, there -- please don't slam it down, Germany and Italy live on the other side.

[And it's fine, at least in this instance, because he's relieved he didn't upset him by being caught up in his own train of thought.]

I can get the table, at least. [Austria's weak but he can definitely scoot a plywood coffee table, and it allows him to take the orb off of it with his other hand before America could knock it over and break it. Because Austria is sure he would.]

_{[ By the time that Austria has said that wall there, he's going ahead and setting it down with a loud thud. It makes racket, but everything seems to be unharmed-- furniture and wall.

Austria may have hands, but America has got very impressive arms.

He pats his hands together and places his hands on his hips, pleased to assist. ]}

Perfect! I have no idea what we're doing, but it looks great. ★

[A wince and an eyeroll -- he knew it.] Well hopefully they don't have their bed up against that wall. [He might find out in a few days.]

No idea what we're doing -- you specifically asked me about the piano. I'm trying to get it back. It needs space, it's a baby grand.

[Taking the orb in his hands, he closes his eyes, thinking as hard as he can about that piano.] It's made it through enough destruction around it already, what's dimensional travel, after all? If someone can jump from space... [He lets out a half of a laugh, shaking his head before sighing and throwing the orb to the ground.

It makes a loud noise and he jumps, wincing at the flash of light, cursing himself mentally for doing this at this hour, but after the noise America made, what's done is done. The light is blinding at first and he covers his eyes with his forearm, but when he lowers it there are tears welling up in his eyes.

He runs over to the piano, touching it, giving a few keys a frantic but quiet stroke to test that yes it's here, yes it works and sounds just as it always did. The bench made it there too and he sits on it immediately, resting his cheek on the fall board.] Darling. [He could not care any less that America is seeing him get this emotional over an inanimate object, it's his piano, damn it.]

You were asking about it... had you wanted to hear anything? I could play something very soft. I don't want to bother anyone any more than we already have, but she's back and I want to play her.

_{[ This is touching and all, but while Austria is having an emotional re-connection, America comes up behind him and just.. slams a few of his fingers on the keys. It makes an awful sound, obviously. ]}

_{[ Then, he grows very excited. ]}

Holy shit!! That thing just teleported here! It's actually real! DUDE!! It's so big and hefty too.. and it just come here.. through like a foreign temporal anomaly! No way! Did it come from the present? Or is this something from the past? How did you do it?

_{[ He's more amazed about how it actually got here versus the piano itself. ]}

Yeah, I was asking about it 'cause you're such a music slut, I don't know.. maybe listening to music will help me get sleepy!

_{[ He sounds.. nothing like sleepy now. ]}

Play Piano Man!!

[He jolts upright at the sound and his hand goes straight to America's wrist to firmly guide them away, accompanied by a frantic ah -- tss-tss-tss-tss...!! as if he's trying to pull a child away from a hot stove.] Be careful, just because it can be played loudly properly doesn't mean it can be banged on like that, it's not good for the strings -- oh, maybe I should get another one of those orbs to summon my tuning kit... actually not a bad business idea if there are others here with pianos, hm...

[His face turns red at the nickname, though of all the ways for that word to be used, this is possibly the least offensive he can think of.] Don't say something so crass! Listening to music to help you sleep -- Paris Hilton said she did the same thing when she went to the Opernball.

[UGH]

Piano Man won't help you sleep even if I wanted to play it! No one ever hears that without bursting into song -- what about some sort of softer, calming jazz if you want to hear something from your home?? There are just so many options -- [A lightbulb just went off.]

Copland? What about Copland? Ah, I'll see what I can remember of it. [He wiggles his fingers plaintively in some attempt to wake them up and begins playing the first of these, though he is careful not to move above mezzo forte considering the hour. It occurs to him he probably should have closed the lid, but it is what it is. He finishes the first short piece of the group, smiling before pulling his hands away once the sound decays.]

...He wrote three more of them but I never memorized them. I always liked this one. Takes me back. 1926.

[The Music Slut decides what's soothing and what's not. They can be on their own self absorbed track together]

_{[ He steadies his hands on his hips as he is brushed away, but he still lingers by, somehow giving Austria silence so he can concentrate. The first few seconds of it make him puzzled looking, thinking hard before his face finally relaxes and he perks up. Still, he keeps quiet other than humming along— on and off— and once it’s over he really pipes up. ]}

Yeah!! Two of them came later— the forties, I think— and they all were dedicated to separate people! I’m kinda surprised you started playing this first instead of classical music.

[Austria blinks, actually looking up, not having expected America to know or remember specifics.] ... Yes. I mean -- I wasn't going to play Piano Man for Christ's sake but you were here. And this still is... well, it's debatable if it's classical or jazz, I suppose, that's all dependent on whether it's performed on a grand stage with people shushing each other in the audience.

[It doesn't matter, it's never mattered no matter how many murderous glares he's turned around and given noisy people in concert halls while he's trying to listen.] See, nobody does this anymore. Just sitting around and listening. Here, you want classical? This one's Schubert, Liszt had to go and make it fancier, as he did-- [And he starts playing this but still keeping the volume overall lower than indicated in the music. And yes it's a hell of a lot longer than the Copland but Austria can't let a soft spot go seen without some sort of coverup, nor can he let anyone forget where his expertise lies. And it's the first thing that pops into his head that sounds like his own folk music, too, and maybe he wants to share.

And it's the sort of thing Austria would not be offended by if America got sleepy from it.]

I like sherbert. Especially on a really hot summer day.

_{[ I.. okay. ]}

Yeah, I don't know. I guess I'd get pretty pissed off if people were talking while I listen to the piano. I'd be telling them to shut the fuck up too.

_{[ He's talking.. as Austria plays. ]}

This is.. nice though. It kind of feels relaxing! I always kind of liked the piano, but probably for more sentimental reasons than I do the guitar.

_{[ That's when he feels himself drawn to the couch that he just plopped down and takes a seat, folding his legs up on the sofa. For now, he's sitting up, but it won't take much longer until he sinks sideways, lounging with his legs stretched out on the sofa. ]}

[Austria rolls his eyes at the name mixup, but considering Schubert's nickname was roughly the equivalent of "lil' mushroom" he's not too fussed about it. He keeps playing, trusting Schubert would have laughed.

As ironic as it is for America to be chatting it up while he's playing at the same time as he complains about the exact behavior, he appreciates how casual it is. It's not as if he hasn't played with a lot of noise going on before. America is talking about music, Austria knows it's not as if he's being ignored.]

Really? [He tilts his head, moving to the next phrase of the music with a slight flourish.] Do you play? I admit when I think of your music I do think of guitar more. And drums. [The word is hissed playfully and he leans in America's direction when he says it; yes, he may have a few assumptions about the blond and the type of music he likes to play, solely based on how damned loud he is.]

_{[ By now, America is still sitting upward, but his eyes are drawing sleepy and half lidded, blue gaze trying to focus on the way Austria's fingers glide over each key. Austria even catches him nodding off when he asks the question and he straightens his posture, trying to appear more awake. ]}

Hahaha, uhh.. I mean, there's a little I know, but I haven't touched a piano in decades. The guitar and drums I definitely know how to play, but the piano..

_{[ He tilts his head, dreary eyes looking over the piano. ]}

Huh.. do you think you could teach me?

_{[ He's a lot more tolerable (and kind of cute) when he's tired, isn't he? ]}

[Austria watches him out of the corner of his eye, pleased that he's calming down. And a little charmed that he's trying to be polite and not fall asleep -- even though the whole point was for him to relax from it.

There's something warm about all of this and it's unexpected. Austria finishes the piece first before answering, the last chords coming out muted like velvet.]

...I'd like that, actually, very much. If you really are that interested.

Yeah. I am.

_{[ A BIG OLE YAWN. ]}

I mean, I like music, but I guess England never had the time to really teach me too much when I was younger.

_{[ He sinks down, shifting to a lying position and stretches his legs across the sofa. America even sounds sleepy. ]}

Or he didn't care. I think I picked up most of my music ideals from his brothers instead of him, and then you guys came along later, but nobody really had the patience to personally teach me.

...Pity, he has a rich tradition. [Empire problems, not enough time. Add that to the list of reasons Austria is happier he never bothered with the "exploring" bit.] I hear a lot of his music in yours, though. His brothers too, but still. And he borrowed right back again from you with rock.

[Is he just going to .... fall asleep. right there. okay.

There's a resigned irritation in Austria's voice.] I thought you were just coming over for a moment. [And he leaves for a moment, reaching into a closet, and he comes back with a blanket, grimacing as he shakes it out and puts it over America.]

_{[ YEAH, he is. He's gonna fall asleep right there. He does shift a little once he feels the heat of the blanket over him, tugging it further over himself until nothing but flaxen hair and his signature cowlick is sticking out of the cover. Poor guy still has his glasses on his face, but they're unreachable now that he has burrowed into the sofa, merely turning on his side with his back facing Austria.

Mission accomplished. ]}

You are invited, darling! I'm making my debut as a performer at Club Tourmaline. Entrance is typically 10 Chroma, but show this invitation and you can get in for just 5. Feel free to bring friends!

Entrance Voucher

xoxo Whorelyn Lyra

[ Spain isn't stupid. A lot of people may see him and how he acts and talks and think him done, but they forget that he was the strongest nation in the world for some time. You don't get to that position by being dumb. He's too trusting at times, sure, and think more with his heart (and dick at times) than his brain, but there's a brain under that brilliant mess of soft brown hair. He catches onto things.

Spain isn't a superpower, he doesn't need to be at the top of his game. It's fine if it takes him a moment or so to connect the dots, but when he does--

Austria will walk into his room, Spain standing there, waiting, and proudly holding out a smaller version of, well, this ]

Ah, Querido! Congratulations are in order!

[It had been a nice afternoon out; there was always something nice about treating himself to lunch. No pesky antlers anymore, no heat to worry about; just a nice afternoon with a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee and the excitement of going home to nap after. Because yeah, he's still tired. Not as tired as last month, but the first day after the three-moon cycle is always going to be a little rough.

Austria returns home, takes his shoes and pants off immediately, followed by his vest and tie, finally placing his glasses on the coffee table. He's headed straight for the bed when he walks into the room and sees Spain. With that damn cake.

He squints.]

...What?

[The last person he had sex with was Spain, what is this??

He stands there, frozen, completely puzzled.]

First of all, what are you doing bringing cake into the bedroom? Second -- did you make that? Or did you pay someone to make something so vulgar?

Third. Wh....what??

Oh, please, Querido, I know how to make something as simple as a cake! [ he sounds slightly offended that austria would ask him if he paid someone to make this??? who do you take him for, america? ]

I know it's a little late, but I mean, I could see how you looked at Germany sometimes... [ trailing off there for a second before continuing ]

I'm really happy for you!

[ still has no idea about the general /HANDWAVES thing going on there ]

I would have hoped as much... [still, as simple as it was, the thought of creating something that said that from scratch instead of relegating it to someone else... he's not sure what would be more ridiculous.

Austria blinks at the mention of Germany.] But I haven't done anything with him since the first... [Suddenly he remembers he never actually told Spain explicitly. He'd hoped he'd caught on from the numerous hints that had been dropped and didn't give it much thought, assuming he probably was just respecting space and privacy.

He blinks again.]

You ... can't be serious. That was a month ago, that's beyond late!! N-not that I would have even expected you to make me such a thing in the first place??

[He opens his mouth to speak several times and nothing comes out. He's standing there holding his elbows and he finally throws one hand up.]

... Are we supposed to share this? Don't you think that's a bit awkward?

[ what's ridiculous is those cakes you can purchase at W*lmart. can you even call them cakes? i think not!

but he nods as austria catches on exactly what spain is celebrating here. look let him enjoy his life and how long it may take him to reach certain conclusions. and austria, you know how this man works. you were married to him. telling him explicitly is the best way to make sure he gets something right away. ]

I said I was sorry! But I thought it would be something nice for you to have, after all that. [ a pause ] Hm, you should really work out a bit more, if you're going to be that sore.

[ but spain tilts his head ] Why would it be awkward?

[fake, plastic trash

Still flabbergasted and processing all of this.] No, don't be sorry, my god, as if I were sitting around for a month wondering as if it were a birthday. I -- [His eyes bug out a little.] -- You didn't make one for him, did you? [And now he's pale. er.] Don't. Please don't do that, it wasn't a suggestion.

[um]

I hadn't really exerted myself, do... do you mean work out, or... train?

[he barely moves his face while saying it, as if being quiet somehow diluted it. God, Spain, you know he can take a fist, but that's done with a little more care than Well Hung Muscled Novice Trying Rough Degrading Sex For The First Time.]

...I suppose it isn't terribly, but [looking away a little] he's... he's so private. More than I am. It's why I didn't announce it, but god I wanted to, do you know how long I've been after that!?

[ahem. he clears his throat. that was a little more of an objectifying tone than he'd meant.] Well. In any case, it hasn't happened since.

_{[ It's the beginning of the week, which means that America has a lesson with Austria. He's definitely improved on the piano since he started learning months ago, surprisingly, and today he's playing out a simplified jazz piece for Austria. He's doing well, missing a few notes here and there, but he doesn't ever stop or seem hesitant. As the song progresses, the brunette may notice America bouncing in his seat or his lips moving as if he was keeping count. He even tears his eyes away from the sheet music for a second to cast Austria a glance with a smile before putting his attention back on the music.

A few more hiccups, but he finishes and leans back, hands gripping the bottom of the piano bench before one hand gestures to the music. ]}

Hahaha, okay! Shit like this reminds me of the Charleston, you know?

_{[ Surely Austria remembers that dance in the 1920's. ]}

[This is honestly the last thing Austria could have expected when he first arrived here, especially with America being the first person he ran into, and the conversation that ensued. This was, honestly, incredibly fulfilling. It isn't as if he'd never given piano lessons to another nation but... well, it had been a while, and it had been only possible when he was living with other nations. Back when his house was full, he didn't feel quite as isolated. Not only does he get to watch America improve, which is fulfilling on its own, it's also hearkening back to less lonely times.

Austria starts up, though, looking at the way America is leaning back; if he were a cat his hair might be sticking up.] Ah -- try not to tip it back --

[The Charleston, though. Yes, he remembers. Bittersweet for a number of reasons, including the fact that it sort of signified an era of freedom of expression right before things went sour. And bittersweet, because]

...I was barely out of a wheelchair when that came out, so I never learned it. But yes, it's got the same rhythmic pattern. Your playing is coming along very well.

Hahahaa, oh, _{[ weird voice ]} hell yessssss! Take that, Mozart, you bi-atch. BAM.

_{[ Just. Going to finger gun the piano. Please don't pay attention to.. probably any of this that is happening right now. Also, what does Mozart have to do with anything.
America does shift in the seat so he's completely facing Austria now, seeming pleased to receive praise. ]}

Yeah! I'm boss at this shit now. I bet I can play Sherbet now.

_{[ Schubert, remember? ]}

You never learned the Charleston? Why not? I mean, obviously not back then, but why didn't you try to nowadays?

[Austria just blinks. Slowly. And not like a cat would from trust. Really the only reason he's not huffing over it is that he knows Mozart would have laughed at that.

...They might have gotten along, if he's honest. If Mozart had the patience for a bit of Dunning-Kruger effect in regards to music, he's certain the two of them could talk for hours about .... butts]

Stop calling him Sherbet! At least call him by his actual ridiculous nickname, which was ... mushroom boy ... all right that doesn't sound nearly as darling in English as it does in my dialect.

[The driest of glares.] In case you forgot, things got a bit tense at my place shortly afterwards, to put it mildly, I wasn't much in the mindset of dancing. [Austria, you literally started the tradition for the waltz-ridden New Year's Concert during that time to make yourself feel better about everything, you dissociative twat] After that I ... well for one, it wasn't in vogue any longer.

[for one. For two, he was depressed and didn't get out much. But he's ending it there before he says as much.]

_{[ His voice is soft for a moment. ]}

Oh.. right.

_{[ But then: ]}

Well! It's decades and decades later, but it's never too late to learn! Geez, I wonder if I can even remember the damn thing myself. Let's see..

_{[ Don't mind hm, he's just going to stand to his feet and look down at his toes-- kind of shuffling the basic movements of the dance. ]}

[The softness in his voice isn't actually what he'd expected, and he feels bad, like he's just kicked a puppy with sarcasm. It doesn't last when America gets up to go through the motions of the dance.]

It seems about right, from what I remember seeing at least. Wait. Here-here-here-- [He scurries over to take America's place on the piano bench and begins playing something like this, and he's rusty and maybe a little too cautious and delicate with the phrasing but as it goes on he gets more into it. He's tapping his foot. Still playing, he looks up to watch America, and he calls out] Easier with the music?

[Austria has a birdbox, but for now he's content with making the music himself. Really nice music. It'd be a shame if someone tore him away from it and set off his asthma.]

_{[ As soon as Austria plays the music, America feels his lips pull upward in a pleased smile. Yes, it is quite easier to dance when someone else is playing music. Alfred is quite surprised he's getting back into the swing of the dance (though, he's improvising some modern dance moves the second he has a chance to sneak one in.)

It would be unfortunate if someone did tear him away from the piano like America is doing right now. ]}

Come on, man! I wasn't joking when I said it isn't too late to learn!

_{[ just gonna try and drag the brunette off and onto his feet.. ]}

[Wait. WAIT.

Austria is all too easy to yank away from the piano and he gets up, sputtering indignantly] But -- but the music --

[He wracks his brain for a moment, and it's admittedly hard to remember dance steps from only what he'd seen and recall a Charleston tune at the same time. But eventually]

Birdbox, play Kannst du Charleston tanzt du Charleston.

[...oh. oh god this is faster than he remembers it. Was he really that distracted by ankles back in the day to register how fast this all was? He coughs, watching America's feet, trying to replicate.]

I'm not sure how [PANT] long I can keep this up... [PANT PANT]

_{[ America perks up, zipping his attention in the direction of the birdbox cause he has no idea what it is, and for a moment, it causes him to be distracted, pausing his movements. Though, after a brief moment of his, America continues the movements, grinning brightly when he sees Austria giving a valiant effort. ]}

Hahaha! You can do it, Austria! I have faith in you. Do your best to keep up with me! I'll catch you if you fall!

Edited 2019-09-09 01:55 (UTC)

[There's actually a baffled squint through all of the effort when America says I have faith in you. The initial gut reaction is borderline amused at the thought of anyone placing their faith in him. Then a split second later it's a chill at realizing he found that notion funny to begin with. And another mere split second later he's touched?? And he's still dancing, and maybe he's panting slightly less. The steps don't need as much effort as he's putting in, they can be understated... okay, this is getting a little better.]

I think I... might be all right. Though I can't say I won't set up a hot bath later.

[He's still thinking about the fact that he wanted to laugh at anyone having faith in him. It's weird. It's especially weird to realize you casually think that poorly of yourself in the middle of an exhausting dance. It's certainly a distraction from his bad knees.

Yep, enough of a distraction that he forgets for a moment what he's capable of doing and stumbles, steadying himself on America's shoulders, but doesn't quite fall entirely.

He just shrugs. He's too jaded with his own physical weakness to be embarrassed by it anymore, and he keeps going.]

Ope! Easy there!
_{[ wow his midwestern is coming out. ]}

Haha, like I get it, you're old, so this stuff can be kinda hard, but I think you're doing great!

_{[ America does stop and exhale, seeming a little out of breath himself, small beads of sweat beginning to surface to his skin. ]}

It makes me wonder what kind of other dances you know! Oh, hey, can you twerk?
_{[ Cease. ]}

[oh no, a cute regional accent? what is this?]

Brilliant observation. But no, it does feel more comfortable than just a moment ago, I... we never started slow, did we, we just barreled right through it...! [Is that a laugh? Is this .... an endorphin?

Austria's ready to brag about his own dances until that question comes out.]

...No. I'm not even very good at the simplest hip isolation, and yes I've tried. [Wait.] N-not twerking, I mean, just simple dances that require hip movement... Spain's been trying to teach me for centuries, I can get by with a bolero but not with mambo. The waltz is my own dance, so naturally I'm the best at it, quite a few of the older court dances [He takes a moment, realizing he's been talking long enough to ... not breathe, so he breathes] ... I don't think I do much jumping about like this other than the polka.

[mumbled] Spain can twerk.

[he coughs. what? he's getting tired.]

_{[ America is barely paying attention to most of what Austria is saying, which is dumb, cause he's the one who asked the question.. but that's just kind of how he operates I guess.

Though, he hyper focuses on one thing Austria said: ]}

Okay, we should waltz!

_{[ HOW SUDDEN? Without asking, he's adjusting his posture and trying to take a hold of the older man, forcing him into the female position. Or something like that. His hand is on Austria's waist and the other does have him by his other hand. ]}

Show me! I've done a little but it's been decades!

[Austria is enough of a rambler that he doesn't mind. And that response, honestly, is so much better than what he'd half-expected, which was America insisting Austria attempt twerking. He's being asked about his dance and he's proud, if he had feathers they'd puff out.

Even (maybe especially) after America claims the lead. Almost instinctively there's a tiny, stupid grin that he quickly swallows back. The dance's heyday was during his marriage and if past Halloween couple costumes are any hint, it isn't the first time he's been ... squished? into position to follow.

A brow goes up, dumb grin still hiding behind pursed lips.] Relax your hand. ... Birdbox, play Roses from the South, and be sure it's a Viennese orchestra. [The music starts and he's chirping about posture and repositioning here and there until the main theme comes in and he begins to move, guiding small steps considering the lack of space.]

Every January and February back home we do this. Just about every other day there's a ball somewhere in town, though they vary in formality. They've all got different themes. I should plan to organize something here.

Huh? January and February? Haha, uh, that's kind of weird.

_{[ He's being critical even though he's waltzing? Good grief. Austria may even notice him humming lightly to the tune-- he's familiar, at least. He's a little slow and he keeps looking don at his feet, but America knows the basics of a box waltz. ]}

Come to think of it, a lot of your customs are weird, man. Don't get me started on lederhosen. No bitches ever gonna catch me wearing that shit, haha!!

_{[ why is he so mean ]}

[Austria managed to make it out of the apartment fully groomed and food completely cut up and packed in fifty minutes. Now that is dedication. The cooler he's packed is mostly full of fruit and bread rolls, and there's a little bit of cheese. And wine. Sparkling. It had been purchased when France was still there before, and he didn't have the heart to drink it alone when France was gone, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to jump on the opportunity to share it as intended.

The pit stop as they passed the adult store had been, like many of France's antics, endearingly annoying. The kiss was something he'd wanted to save for a better moment, so the one he granted was chaste, but it lasted longer than he'd planned. The unpredictable sense of time had made it feel even longer, too, or rather, suspended. Maybe it wasn't all that bad, feeling like the world stopped around them. But he still finished it off with a make it quick through his teeth.

When they arrive at the park, Austria sits down cautiously, quietly. There's a long while when he just savors the sensation of being next to him, shoulders touching gently. His wings are draped over the back of the bench for comfort, and with France to the right of him, his right one may be just a tad more extended than the left.

Finally, a trembling hand reaches out to rest itself on France's thigh; once it's there the grip tightens with a neediness that he almost regrets revealing.]

I... was told that it was as if no one had gone anywhere, back home. Did... did you remember everything? Did I?

[He takes an apple with his free hand, giving it a small and nervous bite.]

[ He has limited experience with Austria's attempts of haste when getting out of the door. There is the assumption, however, that the other nation shares a few similarities with France in the realm of preening about. He is impressed when the brunet knocks on his door fifty minutes later to collect him, food in tow. France has to have a moment to quietly shun the way his chest ached, damning his own contentment being so easily won over.

To absolutely nobody's surprise, France has a streak of selfishness that spurs on smoothly seeking out Austria's lips in a kiss. In all fairness, he'd only just arrived and barely had a demi-chroma to his name. In his attempts to get a few extra chroma to purchase a little something, he hardly notices the bizarre ebb of time around them. When he does tear himself away from Austria, he gives a quick trip to the sex shop a college try and is rewarded with a bonus gift (rare, supposedly) with some disconcertingly vague instructions attached. The lantern remains unlit at his side as they continue to the park, and by the time they settle on the bench it sets, temporarily forgotten at his hip.

There is a silent, mutual agreement that idle conversation wasn't necessary. The two of them sit close and in the quiet some of the stiffness in France's demeanor shifts. Not to a slouch. Never. Still, he seems quite pleased to just share the same space as his companion. It takes a hand gripping his thigh to shake him out of the moment and his had dips as he gives the long fingers holding fast a questioning look.

Did he detect concern in the subtext to Austria's question? Wetting his lips, he leaned back against the bench. He didn't appear all that eager to confirm Austria's concerns. He also doesn't really want to relive it. ]

You were told correctly. Nobody seemed to recall their time away. Not even you...

[ His hand finds the one on his thigh, lips drawing into a wry impersonation of a grin. ]

My memory must be superior between the two of us as I remembered everything.

[ It was harder than he cares to admit, so he doesn't. He sighs and leans against Austria's side better, peering toward the basket. Of course, he sees the wine. ]

He didn't much care to share wine with me. It was heartbreaking...

[Another bite of the apple, a larger one, and more nervous. That was, indeed, what he was afraid of hearing.] I see. [His head lolls back a bit, resigned.] But I never left here. From my view, at least -- but you did leave, could it be, maybe... I would have to be sent back from here? To remember? It happened that way to me several years ago, but the memory was so faint, it was something surreal like here but I can't recall much more than that. I would hope... [Still eating that apple.] If you remembered, then there's a chance... if I ever have to fully leave this place, I would remember, too...

[Wine. Austria pops the rest of the apple into his mouth from sheer moonblessing instinct without a thought as to how strange it looks, and he goes to open the wine. The cork comes off with a pleasant pop and flies off somewhere in the distance. And as he pours into the two flute glasses he brought] "He?" It... it is still me, you know. Just... I didn't know. [The idea of splitting consciousness doesn't bother him so much -- it's even a bit fascinating -- but splitting off into a separate person? That's far more terrifying, and makes this feel less real.] And I'm still me. I have all this nonsense happening but I... I'm not a different person. I'm the same person you loathed. [A small smile comes out, and he takes a sip. And takes the cheese out, handing it to his companion.] This place... it's freeing. I don't recall feeling so at ease with myself since childhood.

[He finally turns his attention from the sky over to France's eyes, and it feels electric.] I'm not different. The man back home has all this, buried somewhere.

[His eyes lower, initially from self preservation, but he spots the lantern in the process.] What is it that they gave you, anyway? A little light?

[ The nervous energy moves from Austria to France in the form of fidgeting quietly, not enough to be distracting but still noticeable. His cuticles will be mad later. The speculation makes him shrug. ] Do you think that this place would let us go in tandem? [ There's a note of doubt in the question, and he elaborates: ] What would you even do with that version of myself? Scold my poor behavior and pray that it ignites some dormant memory?

[ It had been lonely, in a bizarre sense, being the only one in on the secret among his peers. Part of him had felt disbelief; how could they not notice he was gone? Austria's musings seemed to reflect the experience well enough. They had been split and tethered, strung between two places. He could think of more appealing ways to be strung, and the thought lifts his mood enough, along with the offered flute, to make him flash a smile in thanks. ]

Oh, so I loathed you? That's not quite what I remember... [ The cheek. He knows that it isn't quite true; he'd certainly had his moments where being handsome didn't save France's opinion of Austria. Loathing was reserved for a select few. Disdain, however... ] Nonsense? The wings may be growing on me. You look very regal. [ Ah. So, he is possibly flirting. Taking a drink, he has a moment to piece together his thoughts. ] I know that he is still you but I forgot just how far that rod was stuck up your derriere.

[ It was a reminder of how it had felt to pine after his companion with little chance of breaking through. That frustration – the tedium of it all – had been the norm before Prismatica. It wasn't as if France was unfamiliar with taking two steps forward and leaping backward as far as his relationships went, but he didn't want it. Not really.

There's cheese in his hand. When did that happen? He takes an experimental nibble before deeming it passable, looking from Austria to the unlit lantern beside him. ] It's a lantern. There seems to be something strange happening around here so they are handing these out. Bit odd, don't you think? [ He does the courteous thing of wiping his hands off, sacrificing his pants leg just this once to pick it up and hold it between them for inspection. ]

I do not know if it's more novelty or what... I think the cashier mentioned it was meant to be ignited by two people, so perhaps it's a gimmick? [ The lantern certainly isn't igniting with just France's fingertips on the stupid thing. He peers over at Austria, curious. There was the whole bit about it changing color depending on the bond but he'd been so distracted by hurrying back that it'd been largely glossed over. Purple had meant the pair hated each other. This is something he shares with Austria before smiling. ] I wonder if the lantern believes that I hate you? Would you like to try?

I don't. [Blunt.] I don't think they would let that happen, but if I were the one to be sent home, both of us would know. Do you think the "you" back home has forgotten, now that you're here? Every memory that France has of this place, is it suddenly gone? Do you, here, not carry the memory of being home -- you just now described my unwillingness to share wine with you. Here you didn't forget home, why would you have forgotten Lunatia, there? What it seems to be is two states of consciousness, but my lack of awareness back home proves that this one is secondary. Both can exist simultaneously, but one cannot be aware of both unless this one ceases to... update itself? [There's a fascinated wonder in his eyes as he rambles, he's had so many citizens over time that concerned themselves with the workings of the mind that this is too good. Brain candy. Objectively, at least. Subjectively? ... He takes a step back mentally, realizing how hellbent he is on the thought that... this, this could exist back home. Is Austria just... a factor in France's fever dream?

He zones out for a moment, before impulsively blurting the first thing that comes to mind that France wasn't on Lunatia for.] Tell me. Did you know I started making costumes for that merfolk friend of mine? That I've started to learn new lace techniques for them? [... The fear of a "yes" answer is evident on his face, and completely incongruous to the comment, and he realizes this as soon as it's out of his mouth.] I..I only ask to prove things have happened here that are not part of your consciousness, that I'm... real.

[Both eyebrows go up, higher than a skeptical mother, at the denial of loathing. But the word regal... it's bittersweet to hear the word applied to him, perhaps even more so to hear it from France. He's reminded of the earlier days, when both of them had their royalty, that brief alliance when he thought maybe there could be something, before France...

...the possibility that this is all part of France's mind is -- dismissed, when France comments on Austria's uptight manner. His head shakes into a frown.] Crude!! Why must you always be so crude!? [Really. They're having a nice evening.

Austria listens as the explanation is given to him, watches as the lantern is presented, finally nodding in agreement.] ...Very odd. It reminds me of those flowers from a few months ago, but no one ever told me what the colors meant [...And the reality is setting in that this is very dangerous territory. His fondness for the mind resurfaces.] You didn't read any of the others, did you? Don't tell me what they are. Otherwise the possibility for a placebo effect is too great.

[He reaches out for it with a bitter scowl, heart racing as he places his hands on it before France can have the chance to look at the color key again.

Red.

...He tries to remember what colors the flowers all changed when he was speaking with Germany. There were so many colors -- more of a mood indicator than an indication of any bond. He couldn't even begin to remember which color went with which fleeting thought, or what any of those thoughts even were to begin with. But his mind is running a mile a minute, hypotheticals making his emotions fluctuate rapidly, and the red in the lantern hasn't left. So this isn't about mood.]

...Well if violet is hatred, then red's got to be some sort of anger, too, doesn't it? Red being a component in violet, and all. Residual anger from past years, or anger that you left, no doubt.

[There's still fear in his eyes, but it's a different sort now. He's not sure he wants an answer anymore. This is too... final. If it's not some sort of gimmick. Which it probably is.]

[ The idea that there was some level of control on when the Moonblessed arrived and departed was worrying on several levels for France. Was there intent behind it? Was it related to something back home? He could probably speculate just as much as Austria was about split consciousness. They could go on, in circles, all evening, but he's fairly sure they'd only raise more questions than answers. He'd had his own thoughts when he'd returned to oblivious colleagues. Perhaps it was an issue of time -- and as nations, they should know that time was strange.

Not this strange, though.

He's just sitting there with his lantern and an impending crisis when Austria grabs his attention with that question. Maybe it's the concern he reads off of his companion that makes him pause and frown. Shared crisis, apparently, was dessert. ]

Are you trying to tell me that you're thinking this is all in my head? Of course, you are real. I have no clue what you're talking about. [ He sounds a bit firm but not out of annoyance for Austria's concern. He misses home. He does not miss the idea of trying to win this man over all over again, which he'd contemplated, surely. Stubborn. ] I mean, I did not know that you were styling costumes. That sounds quite lovely, actually.

[ As France is a fan of lace and general fancy things, he'll probably end up harassing Austria to show him some of his designs later given that he's not snatched up again before that's possible. Some tension that had begun to crawl back into his muscles ceases when the brunet calls him crude. He twists slightly on the bench causing their knees to brush and he offers a (non)apologetic shrug. ]

You say it is crude. I say it is effective. Now -- [ He trails off, his lips twitching with a smile he tries to hide while Austria is going on about placebo effects. Such consideration for something they would both scream false in less than five minutes. In truth, he hadn't even looked at the key himself. ] -- Ah. That's quite vivid, isn't it?

[ It was a lovely shade of red. Like a bouquet of lush roses; the kind even he would feel giddy over receiving. His focus is rather intent at the point between them, and while he wants to agree with Austria he can't help but feel he's horribly wrong. It takes a second to connect the dots -- and when he does it's for the wrong reasons. He looks from the lantern to Austria and just stares for a moment. What a mess. ]

You were angry when I left? Why?! [ It's easy for him to be defensive but in the end, they're just a bunch of hypocrites. ] I would have expected you to be worried, perhaps, but angry?

[ This lantern is surely a cursed object meant to raise a fuss. He leans in slightly, squinting to make out the key in the dusk. He's going to ignore the fact that he thinks he's sweating under the light jacket. It's spring here, right? He'd underestimated the chance for warm evenings so early, that was all!

The way his brow jerks upward kind of screams 'panicked-but-trying-to-hide-it'. Looks like France found out that red did not, in any way, stand for anger. He looks away from the lantern and from his dinner date to a weirdly starless sky. ]

Why don't we just... launch this, hm? They're supposed to help with whatever issue is going on up there.

[ There might be a rushed, muttered "It certainly isn't helping down here", under his breath. He should be happy, but for some reason 'overwhelmed' is a better word for it. ]

[Austria blinks away the paranoia.] For a moment, I did think that. I don’t, anymore. [Not strongly, at least, not any more so than he’d pondered offhand the possibility that none of this was real.]

I...

[He's staring at that lantern, too, distracted from forming words.]

Of course I was worried...!! I was worried sick, and upset, and [this is far too much to admit, his normal self is going to be livid when Iris is over] and... I know this place has the ultimate say in who stays and goes but there were too many...

[Unanswered questions, unsaid words. When Spain had gone, he grieved, but trusted he was home safe. There were no unknowns with Spain; that part of their relationship had already cycled past. This?]

Everything had been cut at the quick. Of course I was angry.

[It's uncomfortably quiet until he gets fed up, reaching for the booklet that came with the lantern.] Give me that. [And he snatches it away, eyes looking like a typewriter reading and rereading and trying to process and his breath is shallow and he throws it down onto the ground.

No eye contact.

Finally he grabs the lantern and stands up, posture waffling until he spots an unsuspecting goat-like woman and runs up to her. Here. If I may borrow you for a moment. Put your hand on the lantern. ... Blue. Blue was annoyance, wasn’t it. Am I annoying you? ... Well, good, because it just so happens that I don’t care what you think!

And he storms back to the bench, standing, shifting his weight again.] Launch? You’re supposed to just throw it? Good. [With that he chucks it with all the force he can muster, and it floats away gently, leaving him with a letdown like trying to slam a swinging door.] It probably wanted us to have a moment but good riddance!! I don’t want a moment.

[He refuses to sit down on the bench again, instead opting to stand, inert and frantic, staring worriedly at France. And despite his best efforts... it does feel like a moment.

Christ he hates feeling this helpless.]

[ Even with the quiet between them, France feels like he doesn't have enough time to process it all. Where Austria's explanation should have given him comfort, perhaps in solidarity that he'd not been the only one that felt cheated, his thoughts are accompanied by static. He wants to tell Austria to just forget the lantern and he gets so far as to opening his mouth to do as such but what comes out is embarrassing. He almost sounds offended when his companion snatches the booklet out of his fingers and he sits up straight as if he's preparing for the worst (but what was the worst in this situation, really?).

The blond's mouth snaps shut, lips pressing tight when the bearer of bad news is thrown to the ground. He half expects the man to grind his foot into the pages, even more so when the lantern is plucked up and Austria stands. It feels like a bizarre out of body experience, watching Austria handle the lantern as if it was going to explode in his grasp. He doesn't even try to stop him when it seems a goal has been found, watching Austria's back as he advances on a very perturbed goat lady.

Blue light illuminates the space between Austria and his unwitting test subject and even from on the bench, France can make out what the man is saying to her. Any other evening, France would have dissolved into a fit of laughter at how utterly ridiculous this was. How deep the denial was. Tonight he was struggling to ignore the charm of brushing it off, making it simple. Whatever staring he was doing is interrupted when Austria twists and leaves the lady and France leans back against the bench to look up at his dinner date when he's near enough.

Oh... that was anticlimactic.

A hand goes to his face and rubs as if he's trying to hide the unintended smirk that Austria's failed toss caused. He fails miserably in hiding all emotion. Swears that this man is going to be the one responsible for any wrinkles he receives. There is a silence that trails after Austria's rather passionate claim in not wanting a moment. He knows that it's meant for him to offer his own, to engage in the back and forth, but for once he isn't sure what route to take. He settles instead on clearing his throat and letting his hands go back to his lap, frowning to himself. This wasn't, particularly how France had envisioned this whole thing going. ]

If you do not want a moment, what do you want? Was the lantern incorrect, then?

[ RIP. ]

Liquor.

[The word comes out before France could even finish the second question and he falters when that second question registers.] I. ... Oh please, this isn't a measure of my feelings alone, you could answer that question just as much as I could! [Unable to have his liquor, he reaches for the wine again and pours another glass for himself, wanting to down it but not wanting to look like a heathen in France's eyes.

France's eyes, incidentally, are the next subject of his attentions. That's the moment.] My answer wouldn't be different from yours, if that thing is correct.

[He finally moves to sit down, resting his elbows on his own thighs as he sips more.] You realize when my empress sent that vulgar letter to you under my name I stopped breathing. I had to be revived. I don't know about you but that's the level of cognitive dissonance I'm dealing with right now. [Another gulp.]

But it was... so very long ago. I'm angry. Bitter, rather, that circumstances back home never allowed us... there were too many outside forces working against even considering...

[That word.

There's a small sigh and Austria sits back and carefully leans his head towards France; he'd nuzzle close if there weren't antlers in the way. His wing stretches out more deliberately than before, brushing France's shoulders.] But I never forgot that night in the garden. How you read my desires like a book and understood, and of course it couldn't last but I never forgot it, we were so young...

[His pulse is quickening thinking of it, and he glances at the moon and re-centers himself. He can't afford to lose this conversation to a spell of lust, and he calls on the other facets within himself that the Iris moon draws forth from him: affection, protectiveness.]

I missed having you. I don't want to let go of that.

[ He almost expected the initial response as it mirrors what he also wouldn't mind in their current moment. Moment. Was this considered a Moment? The frown slips when he catches Austria's eyes and he gets confirmation that yes, this was probably a Moment.

France is good at superficial follies. He enjoyed the hunt. If Austria was wrong, if the lantern was a lie, he could try to detach and save both of them the hurt that would inevitably come from attachment. The entire time they'd slept together (but it wasn't just sex; they'd gone on dates, spent time together without all that much of agenda on occasion, hadn't they?), whatever feelings that were developing could be set aside. He hadn't been prepared for feeling loss when Austria back home hadn't recalled a single thing.

Austria sits beside him again and France is reminded that he'd contemplated trying again, back home, if only to get to the point where he could be companionably close without feeling like a burden. His words sink in, and for a second they validate his belief that at least on some level Austria had considered France's presence to be troublesome. That's not the point of why Austria is saying it, though, and he can appreciate that too. ]

As far as match-making went, at least she aimed high. [ While he didn't seem to be bragging about himself, there is enough ability to see where pride may be assumed and he continues, ] It wasn't her fault that she didn't know me to be the insufferable brat I was back then.

[ Is, now, sometimes. He likes to think that he's better now if age and the changing times have calmed him. That doesn't stop him from letting his hand stray, winding behind Austria, ever mindful of the feathers, to grasp the bottle of wine on the other side. Something in him keeps France from downing the rest of its contents, perhaps the faint surprise at the man ever feeling bitter that they'd never attempted a lasting relationship back home. ]

We do not have the pleasure of acting on our own accord back home. Any feelings I may have for someone does not void me of duty... I-- [ He trails off, distracted by the memories of every failed venture he'd actually been foolish enough to pursue despite what he was, and what that kept him from... and really, there is a reason he puts a stop to things before feelings are allowed to blossom for a reason. Wetting his lips, he shifts closer when Austria leans back. He hadn't anticipated being reminded of that night in particular. It could have been a painful reminder but instead, it makes him smile fondly and reach out, fingers stroking slowly over the man's clothed knee. It's not flirtation, but it certainly could double down on more than being a comforting gesture. ]

I was very fond of those gardens. Still am. [ When France had been younger, he'd been caught up in romanticizing alliances, and he and Austria had been so new to theirs that it really was inevitable. He'd taken to duty but he wanted to make it his. A trip to Versailles had ended up with France offering to take Austria out one evening for an impromptu tour of the gardens. In the present, France's attention strays to Austria's profile and lingers on how the moon lights his skin. For a few seconds, he's stuck reliving that night. ] It's funny, how even now, we gravitate to scenery such as this, on nights like these.

[ The battle to keep his hand from slowly creeping upward is barely won, but he'll be damned if he's the one that ruins the mood. It's so, so rare that he hears Austria speak so freely that he wouldn't let himself live it down. France exhales and leans into the other, looking up as well. If he focuses on the moon he doesn't have to focus on the terrible ache of longing and nostalgia building in him. It seems as if he is unknowingly rewarded for his self-control when Austria finally speaks again. ]

Hm. Having me? [ For a moment, France sounds playful. Coy, even, but it drops away. A tired act employed to hide the soft underbelly. ] I have been plagued for the entirety of my existence by people insisting they had me. I am a very, very desirable trophy you see. [ He motions with the bottle, a little toast to his bosses and every formal alliance he's had. To Austria, as well. As it was rude to toast without following it with a drink, he does as such. Contrary to the weight of his reminiscing, he doesn't appear bitter. Austria's words had levied some of that. ] I remember though, that night in particular clarity. I pined over the notion of you wanting me without being told to. [ It's not a shot fired. Truly. ] I am fairly sure you had me then. It's bittersweet that you are only aware of having me now.

[ France stops, unsure. ]

My liver could not tolerate you letting go, I think. It can barely tolerate this.

[Austria couldn't help but crack a smile.] I think she knew. I don't think that factored into her decision. [A pause as he allows the wine to be taken from him.] Mother knows best.

[He listens, letting him trail off; he knows just as well what it is to be suffocated by duty, but that duty didn't include every manner in which they treated each other over the years. Where did it start? He couldn't say, but he knows there was no real effort to ever end it. The disdain was comfortable, one of the few things Austria was able to hold onto from his golden age, but like many other things from then, what was comfortable was not without harm. What a fool Austria had been, he muses, and when the subject shifts to the gardens, he speaks up again.] Our rivalry often made me feel young again. With so many things that changed for me, I had clung to that last remnant... I remembered the gardens, too, but never sought solace in that memory the same way, it was always easier to bicker. The calmer times were brief and already spoken for, I thought, they were too idealistic to cling to like that, but with the way I've fallen, I...

[He stops, scared of himself, just taking in the sensation of having his knee stroked like that. It's simple, and soothing, and invigorating. Looking around the park, seeing pedestrians scattered here and there in casual clothing, seeing the way even the both of them were dressed, a trembled laugh escapes him, and if it weren't for the smile it may have been mistaken for tears.] Scenery like this... some Versailles this is.

[But it's green, there's moonlight, and they're ever so close, and perhaps a little bit tipsy. The coyness of France's words are familiar from even the times he did dislike, but that wasn't present at all now. The tone warms him fully, and Austria looks straight ahead, beaming from ear to ear without his stoic inhibitions to stop him.] It's so strange to hear someone other than myself talking about being the trophy... we're both spoiled, aren't we? [He takes the toast, and it forces him to look at France directly again and when he does it feels electric.] If I'd been told to want you again after all that at least I'd have had an excuse. An excuse that wasn't Marie-Louise, all due respect to her, but an excuse that allowed me to maintain some of my pride and didn't involve making me a sniveling harlot to offer my men to a military that was beating the hell out of me--

[He's giddy. His heart is pounding, he's warm all over from either the wine or the mood between them and it only gets more intense when France suggests Austria has had him all along. There's a wave of possessiveness that washes over him from it that aches. Barely tolerating the present? That makes two of them, and Austria can't stand it anymore and kisses the man, the way he'd wanted their first kiss to be after being reunited. No polite pecks out of consideration of daylight and the sidewalk; it's night, now, and Austria clings with need. His breath had been shallow from nerves before and it caused him to pull away sooner than he'd wanted, but he sighs another helpless laugh, tears welling up.] It's always been easier to make love than to speak of it. [He leans in again, screwing his eyes shut as he resumes the kiss, and the words bubbling up inside him hurt. The arrow he'd been struck with centuries earlier had never been taken out of him, he'd healed around it and it only served as a thorn in his side; now, it's being pushed further, straining to create an exit wound. And it finds it, tears now trickling from him as soon as he manages to open his eyes.]

Je t'aime. Je t'aime beaucoup.

[It's whispered weakly, like a terrified animal, against France's lips, as if quietness might alleviate the feeling of his entire past being upturned upon speaking it. It doesn't. He clings tighter, and keeps kissing him.]

[ Somewhere, a lantern is floating upward to join the rest of its strange family. France feels just as grounded, but he's always been notoriously fickle; distracted by a ceaseless string of consciousness. He isn't offended with the admission that their bickering had offered some solace in neutrality. Idle hands were the devil's playgrounds, but the same went for the mind. Immortality meant for unusual coping mechanisms. Bickering, when the reason to bicker had long-ceased to exist. Pettiness above politeness. It was simply a means and comfort. There's something that seizes inside of him at hearing his companion mention falling for him. Was it his stomach flipping anxiously or his breath? He doesn't know.

The wine keeps him planted to the bench, but it's what Austria offers next that pries a smile out of France. He remembers those years, trying to make sense of an alliance with another that had more often than not been fighting opposite of him. ] My men were just as confused, I promise you. [ The vast majority were. He had given credit to those he'd worked with closest in those days for seeing the situation for what it was. Knowing glances and courteous silence. ]

I never thought you a harlot...

[ It's a consolation prize if anything from one spoiled man to another. He's stuck watching Austria's expression shift in the evening light. It feels like he's back in the gardens, even if this park was a far cry from the manicured lawns and topiary. There's a difference, however; he isn't the one leading the charge. It's only after Austria closes in that he reacts, leaning in to eagerly kiss him in return. His fingers find the fabric of the brunet's jacket. He doesn't realize he'd needed air until the kiss is broken, leaving him to take a few deep breaths. He abandons the jacket to cradle the other's face, soaking in the sound of his voice from so close, adoring the quiet laugh.

He's always been an affectionate man, but it's different when actual emotions and attachments come into play. He doesn't think he can ever get close enough, and when Austria returns for another kiss he buries his fingers deep against the hair at his nape. Iris leaves his companion in a more vulnerable state, emotionally; something France has come to terms with. Even anticipated. He doesn't have the excuse of being a sympathetic crier, but he can feel the urge to let it get the better of him when the other pulls away just enough to speak.

He'd never anticipated those words coming from Austria, and most certainly not in regard to loving him, but from the way his arms wrap around the man's shoulders, it's well-received. He allows the kiss to continue, needing it to be an offering of his own returned feelings in lieu of speaking and ruining the nonverbal part of their exchange. He's just as scared to admit it. What if he did and the next day he woke up in his own bed back home again? It'd ruin him.

He does pull away eventually, lips tingling from the kiss. He feels unsteady but wonderful, and it's awful. ]

You must think me a fraud; needing a third party to tell someone that I love them...

[ He's admitting that he's no good at this, or not in the way he wants to be. The way he wanted being centuries ago. He'll take this moment though and hold it dear. ]He slips a hand from around Austria's shoulders to grab for one of his, bring it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. For a second they sit there, but France eventually offers up another idea. ]

This is no Versailles, but I've only just arrived. Perhaps you could walk with me and show me the sights?

[ We both know those sights are going to be a bush...]

[Austria couldn't help the snort at France's assurance that he never thought him a harlot. Partly because he wasn't so kind to himself when considering the matter, partly because he was sure in the past that France would accuse him of such, and partly because now, hearing those words, he believed him. Hearing the sound of France's breathlessness, it's a familiar sound and he feels heat pooling low, quelled only by the sheer tenderness of the man's hands on his cheeks; they're warm in contrast with the cool air and he feels his face becoming hot from it and from being simply overwhelmed.

The silence after his own confession would be deafening if he weren't being smothered with kisses and pulled close. The warmth envelops him and it's almost too much. But it isn't; perhaps in some ways it does feel as if he's drowning, but what he's feeling is closer to addiction. He understands perfectly. Wordless exchanges were what he normally felt most comfortable with. And normally, it had been someone else offering those first words of affection, not Austria. This was the second time in his life that he'd confessed first, both times happening since he arrived at this place. But it's the first time he hasn't felt cornered into giving an answer, and the first time he's certain it isn't unrequited. Not with the clinging that it evoked in France, and not from the words that came from him once he pulled back.

Austria shakes his head, brushing France's hair away from his face. Though they aren't the three words, he feels them deeply regardless.] Not at all. It's just about all I've ever known how to do. And... without it, I'd be afraid my own feelings were some sort of repeated, chronic impulse, if there were such a thing, brought on by this place. [There is no such thing as a chronic impulse, and he knows it. But it still is sinking in.

His breath leaves him when France's lips touch his fingers. It isn't the first time by any means but it is so chaste, it is a moment he supposes feels as if it were made of crystal and mustn't be disturbed or taken down from its pedestal in any way. It's at odds with what the moon is bringing out in him, and the urge to straddle France's lap for an even closer kiss is certainly there, but brushed aside.

And he's glad he did. His ears perk up at the thought of giving him a tour, regardless of whether or not France had been to this park before when he was here last. He takes the hand that had stolen his own for a kiss, and stands. Wordlessly, for now. Packing away what hadn't been finished yet, he picks up the cooler. It is enough to breathe in the evening.

From the park they can see various places they've visited in the past, and he's able to point gently or even just tilt his head towards them for the two of them to share a memory. The antique shop from their first date. The concert hall, whose memory has Austria staving off more fire within himself. When he finally does speak again, he remains somewhat reserved.]

Everything is very vivid, right now. I feel very... present, in the moment. [Alive?] That's an advantage to this week and the next one, this moon being out. ... I can see wonderfully at night. [The pause is as he realizes it may have sounded like a suggestion before he clarified. It hadn't been, at least not consciously. He remains cautious.] You understand what I mean, I hope. Any other interpretation would risk ruining the atmosphere, don't you think?

[It's France. Somehow he's worried about being too sexual for France and he's not sure when that happened. Seeing the man genuinely unsure of himself, after sex had been an escape from reality for the both of them... it feels as if anything adjacent to it would escape a reality that Austria, for once, doesn't want to let go of.

...Never mind that it's what finally caused them to be honest with each other here. Never mind that it did anything but ruin the atmosphere those years ago in the palace gardens.

He looks at his own feet, and as they continue to walk, his palms noticeably begin to sweat. Without thinking, he clasps France's hand more tightly, and his pace slows. Wine had a way of doing that.]

[ He's sorely out of practice. France has had more than his fair share of people taking him aside and insisting that they were in love and every one of them had gotten the same gentle yet firm denial. It was never really them that was the problem; he was. There was little that he could actually give them and that certainly included his heart. Fickle thing. He's wanted Austria for centuries but only once had he even considered that desire was deeper than lust. And then he'd gone a little unwell for awhile, so that was the end of that.

Admitting to himself that he loved the other nation had been drawn out over the months they'd kindled whatever sort of relationship they had here. He may not have repeated in so many words that he loved the brunet, but he did what he could. There were worse ways to let a man know you cared and far worse scenarios. France will be content with a dimly lit park at night, even if they are far from home.

It's difficult to not feel dazed when Austria grabs his hand and helps him up from the bench. Part of the last ten minutes doesn't feel quite real but the fingers wrapped around his are warm and solid to the touch – and while he wouldn't have minded the split decision to straddle him and kiss him properly, he is happy to have that tour.

France lets him be the one that does the majority of the talking as they walk through the quiet park, smiling in acknowledgment to a few of the spots. The concert hall has a similar effect on France's train of thought and he has to bite his tongue. The night is cool but he feels a wave of heat crawl along his neck. He'd reeled from the aftermath of that evening for days and from the subtle spike in his pulse that appeal clearly hasn't outstayed its welcome. The charm of Austria attempting to clarify that he hadn't intended it to be sexual reels the blond's libido a bit and draws a grin from him. He chooses to momentarily go with that narrative, looking up. ]

Can you decipher which one of those lights above is ours?

[ His eyes go from the sky to Austria's profile, faintly curious. For the record, he didn't expect him to, but he's feeling exceptionally soft around the edges and the idea is sentimental enough to fit the mood. Curiosity gets to him when he notices that the other nation has slowed. France's fingers feel like they're being clung to rather than simply held and he squeezes back, pulling just enough to suggest they stop. They'd wandered far enough into the park that the few people had thinned out altogether. ]

Can you see anyone else around us? I'm afraid that I want to risk ruining the atmosphere.

[ France means with a kiss, but he's more than eager to endanger it by dragging him to somewhere a little more private, just as he'd done so long ago back home. He keeps his hand clasped in Austria's but his free one settles on the back of his neck. His lips quirk slightly. ]

I remember the first time we kissed here. You were so angry. [ And handsome. How far they've come though, that he's not in the least bit concerned about whether or not Austria will recoil when he leans in for a kiss here with no prying eyes. As there was nobody around (rhetorical questions be damned), he doesn't bother to pull away, instead doing just the opposite. ] Why don't you hide that basket, hm?

[There's a moment when Austria does look up, instinctively trying to find their lantern among all the others. He shakes his head, considering being playful and faking that he's found it, and it feels as if it would fit their usual banter. But as he's about to say it, it doesn't feel natural for that instant.] Not at all. [It's said plainly.] We can get another, perhaps. Or one like it. That one was meant to be let go. We can have many more, as many as we want. [Did the concept of eternity still apply at a place like this? He and France didn't seem any older. It was plausible. And attractive.

Just as he instinctively tried to find the lantern, he skims their surroundings as if it were a reflex to France's words, before those words sink in.] I don't see any... [He trails off, and his pulse quickens.]

You're... you're...!! I don't believe you! [It's a hushed scolding, and Austria's attention is everywhere and nowhere all at once as the back of his neck grows cold.] I've been going out of my mind trying to keep things nice, because I care about this, I missed you, and here you're asking me to ruin it-- [The word ruin sticks in his mind and his thoughts fly to that one October night and he exhales, flustered.

And as France continues speaking, Austria can't help but feel challenged. Angry... is it that he wanted Austria angry? Is he laughing at the thought of it now that Austria is openly needy for France's affection? He doesn't have time to process it because France's lips are on him again, and with the words France has been choosing to express himself, Austria is beginning to wonder...] D...do you think we can make it back to our flat? [It's said weakly, almost as a formality.] It doesn't matter how... poetic it might be if I returned the favor from that night so many years ago, this isn't a private garden, it's a public park, how classless could we possibly--

[He's kissing France's neck, and he's hard. All the words coming out of his own mouth haven't exactly convinced the rest of him, and his eyes are scanning the area for a secluded spot. The concept of shame is skewed in a place like this, he knows, and he's rationalizing more and more by the second, grasping at him hungrily and walking (stumbling?) them both over to a curved row of trees. Knowing this place, there's a good chance they were arranged that way intentionally. It feels like a clumsy dance in a ballroom, basket hanging from Austria's wrist as he clasps France's hand.]

God, I thought I was done with this level of severity. [He takes a moment to collect himself, but he's face to face with his lover, pressed as tightly as he can be to him, hands not-so-gently tugging at the fabric of France's jacket.]

I want to take you the way you took me.

[The basket is softly dropped, and Austria grasps France's wrist, less softly. The other slides to France's chest to work on buttons. The need to see at least some of France's body in all this is only thing that's going to peel him off at this point.]

[ He will never cease to be intrigued by the complexities in a kiss and what they convey and inspire between two people. The blond is fully aware at how easily he can rile Austria up with words; reminders of what inspired their partnership, and everything that it entailed by association. Part of him wants to reassure him that he's not trying to make a mockery of their evening with barbs, the gentle scolding being enough to redirect his efforts. Most of him wants to kiss him though because he missed the brunet as well and being this close eased the ache in his chest that had been there for months.

Austria isn't the only one needy for a little bit of affection. He hadn't intended to lure his lover off but now that he's in the moment it's hard to just pull away. Scolding or not. Luckily, Austria is the one that speaks up and he can't stop the tiny smile at his feeble attempt to save face. For a moment he wants to suggest that they could try to make it back to theirs, but the fine balance of disbelief and arousal had been thrown to one end. It's good they're both particularly fond and France is particularly weak to a mouth on his neck. ]

Classless...? [ He sounds happily distracted but pulls it together to cluck at his lover, gripping his shoulder. To keep him close? Was that really a fight? ] We aren't doing it in an effort to be caught. [ Tonight, at least. ] I missed you, and I need you.

[ France doesn't have the time to whine over Austria putting space between them because he's being pulled, at first stumbling, then getting his baring with a surprised titter that has more to do with being dragged off by the man he loves than being dragged off to do horribly taboo PDA. Damned if it doesn't look like he's living his best life though, beaming at the poor brunet when they've made in into the trees. He can feel his arousal pressing firm between them and he shivers, wanting to pull Austria's hips even tighter against his own but that'd be impossible.

He smiles when his jacket is attacked, raising his arms briefly to help rid himself of the garment and his ears burn hearing Austria go on about Iris' influence. ]

Is it as bad as the first time?

[ Such a simple question; innocent to an unknowing third party, but France still remembers him pleading to be made love to. Funny how the longer they stand in a state of partial undress that France feels his patience crumbling. The mood doesn't make him appreciate what Austria says next any less, and he can hear the basket drop and the smile is warm like the fingers holding his wrist in place while Austria goes to unbuttoning his shirt. He wonders if the man's even cognizant of the mildly possessive hold, but France is. ]

Taking implies that I'm not already yours. [ His free hand works carefully between them, fingers tugging impatiently at the belt at Austria's waist, watching his lover for signs of disapproval. He's struck, not for the first time, at how much he cares for the other and he rudely interrupts Austria's efforts with another kiss, draping his arm around Austria's shoulders. He sighs against his lips when he pulls back but he doesn't pull away. ] You have everything. I love you and I don't know what to do with myself.

[ It's scary saying it to full effect because admitting it opened up opportunities for it to all go to hell, and he's incredibly protective of his finer feelings. It would be in poor taste to discredit the trust he has in the other man now that everything has been realized. His fingers aren't as steady as he goes for Austria's shirt, but where nerves have chipped away, stubbornness prevails. ]

It's been too long. Perhaps you could remind me?

[ He's torn on the double-meaning, but there's the smallest hint of a grin on his lips. ]

Of course it's classless... [It's mumbled, it's partly his conscience trying to keep up appearances and partly the voice in the back of his mind begging him to indulge in classlessness. But he can feel his insides tingle at the reminder that he's needed. He reciprocates those same words, hushed.

The question is met with Austria closing his eyes into a frown, a little embarrassed at the memory, and he swallows.] At least I know what the hell is going on this time. [It's not a yes, it's not a no, and he'll maybe be in a better frame of mind to compare the two when he's calmed from all this. He's barely keeping his thoughts straight, though, and it's obvious. He groans weakly at having his clothing pulled at, and the words accompanying the deed. There's no sign of disapproval whatsoever, he's helping the blond undo his slacks and his hips may even crane forward in need and at the thought of possessing the man. Again, and fully, this time, without qualifications, without any part of them clinging to the antiquated veneer of their rivalry. While France was gone he regretted nothing more than being too stubborn to fully let that go. Hearing France's confession he rejoins that kiss, rough and quick and relieved to hear it out loud, and when he pulls back to allow his shirt to be undone he mumbles France's name idly, again and again, arousal slick and pulsing.

With a sudden shudder Austria's eyes look as if he's starved and they zero in on France's belt, all but tearing it undone and the waistband down to the middle of France's thighs. Was it as bad as the first time? The first time, he had no idea what was happening to him, and he'd ignored every urge and lied to himself, convincing himself it wasn't even there. He had been desperate, and humiliated, and humbled that France would help him without mockery. Now, he knows exactly what is happening, and has a far better idea of how to navigate it. But now is also a reunion he'd long thought unlikely, now they've confessed and finalized their feelings, now is a joyful sort of closure and he wants nothing more than to consummate it.

Reminding. He can't help the small laugh, doubting that he could have forgotten -- even if he had thought that for a time when France wasn't well, he doesn't think it now. He grips France's shoulders to lower them both to the ground. He takes France's shoes off to remove his pants the rest of the way, reveling in the sight of the man's lower half entirely bare and vulnerable. Ripe. Austria's glasses are tossed on top of the basket, and he takes one of France's legs to kiss his ankle.]

You caught on to a need I had. Don't know what tipped you off. Might have been the way I finally felt like I could breathe, ironically, when you did this to me... [He clasps his hand over France's mouth, leaning down to kiss his forehead.] Even though you kept me from saying any words you knew I was pleading for more every time you were rough with me... [His hand returns to France's wrist and it tightens, short nails digging in.] You were rough, France; I'd say you were treating me poorly but you kept whispering such lovely things in my ear and it was everything I needed. Everything I thought I was strange for wanting, but you knew.

Now I see it's because it's what you would have wanted, isn't it... [Austria's hand slips away from France's mouth only to reach over to the bag and get that little bottle France had insisted on picking up -- thank God -- and he wets the fingers of his right hand, which slithers between France's legs.] There are no guessing games now. I know what you want. [His fingers slip in, hooking immediately to press mercilessly on the spot he'd found many times before, and he leans in to whisper just as he remembers France doing.]

You're beautiful. Your hair is glowing like fire under these lanterns. All of you, your body, laid out for me like this. I can't stop looking at you. If I cannot take you, I will claim you. Over, and over, France, I'll conquer you, you're beautiful and you belong to me...

[Austria doesn't have time to dwell on the fleeting curiosity of whether he'd be so unhindered with his words if it weren't for the moon. The only thing he can manage to think is that he's grateful to express himself so easily, and if it came with the side effect of being too desperate to get home, so be it. He looks down at himself and determines he doesn't need that bottle for his own length; he strokes himself slick from the desperation he's already covered with and his wings spread. Moaning, he presses himself inside, and those wings flap slightly in an instinctive effort to steady himself. Eyes wide and hungry and fixed on his lover, teeth clenched, he grunts, and comes. It's small and he's unfazed, knowing the moon will allow him many more; perhaps he's proud, even territorial. This is his, and he's marked him. He begins thrusting again, bending France's legs back with his forearm against his calves, slamming himself inside with the full force of his weight. He's harsh with his body and his hand is clasped tightly enough over France's mouth to make breathing difficult but not impossible, wanting him to have the same breathlessness he was given that night, wanting him to feel the sweet balance of romance and pain and danger that he'd been shown. So it is that his actions are rough but his gaze is tender. He licks his lips to speak again.]

Do you remember, now?

[ Austria's response makes France hum sympathetically, eyes darting up to catch the sight of his lover, distracted but coping a lot better. ] Moonblessings are very peculiar things, but I'd be lying to you if I told you I took no pleasure from yours. [ His fingers tug with a little more purpose on Austria's pants when the brunet gets over his embarrassment enough to actively assist France's efforts in pushing the man's slacks down enough to free his erection. It's all wonderfully distracting from his own nerves; the possession of which surprises him almost as much as Austria reciprocating his feelings.

He still feels as if he's floating on the edge of something that could build him up or devastate him but Austria's mouth is on his, forceful as it was fast but it's enough that he can feel the relief. It sinks in, making him sigh and brush his fingertips over the skin he's bared. His restraint is tested when the pads of his fingers brush past the man's navel and he's mere inches from his leaking cock. God, he loved Iris. Maybe it's the way his fingers hesitate that wears down Austria's resolve, whatever of it that remained. Maybe he's just as needy as the blond. His assistance is far more rushed and France makes a soft sound of surprise that sounds faintly amused, thighs and arousal bared to the night air.

This isn't like the first time. Not the first time with Iris, when they'd been new to their friendly affair where France had slipped into Austria's bed with no judgment and stayed long after he'd exhausted himself. That night slips into his thoughts more than it should and he'd been shamed when he'd been more excited with the way he'd begged to be made love to than one of many rounds where he'd fisted his new partner. He'd been doomed even then, the blond had come to realize. This isn't their first time in the garden, either, but his pulse skips around like it is. It's the first time they'll have one another without the pretense and that's good enough to be remarkable. The soft laugh warms him and there is no resistance at the guidance to the grass.

He doesn't remember the last time (beyond the obvious) that he's made love in the grass at night but he doesn't dwell on it. His body moves on autopilot, stilling just enough to let Austria remove his shoes before bending his legs just enough to ease his pants down his calves and completely off at last. He understands that this is an homage of sorts to that night but his eyes widen slightly when Austria lifts a leg up and kisses the sensitive patch of skin over his ankle. It made his chest ache terribly, but he can distract himself in how good Austria looks in the moonlight, half-dressed and settled between his bared thighs.

He finds himself hanging onto every word, his breathing shallow before Austria's hand even clamps over his mouth. The brief pressure awakens that familiar flirtation with danger that melts away with the kiss. He wants to tease Austria for spoiling him but he wouldn't dare because on the flip side he's experiencing a sense of fragility that he's inexperienced with, even with the games they play and all of the lovers he's taken in the past. Hearing how that night had given Austria what he didn't know he'd needed makes his aching chest twist further and he inhales sharply when the hand is gone and Austria is asking him a question.

He may have even responded with a quiet 'Yes' before he's watching Austria rummage in the bag for the small bottle of lube. There's little shame in how he lifts his legs and offers the brunet room to settle between with freshly slicked fingers and an agenda. France could listen to Austria go on like that at length but his focus is redirected to the fingers filling him and coaxing a rather undignified whine from France's lips. It's so good that he's pliant, thighs spreading to accommodate and silently beckon him deeper.

What he gets instead is the warmth of Austria's body as he leans over France, breath hitting his ear as he whispered lovely things to him. It's hardly the first time that the other man has slipped and called him beautiful, especially when Iris loosened some of his inhibitions. It is the first time he's promised to conquer him, fingers punctuating 'over and over' in a way that makes his toes curl and his hands flutter to any part of his lover that he can reach. ]

Then take me – [ There's a hint of a tremor in his voice when he speaks, and it's not as if he's impatient for Austria to take him. It felt right to make a small demand before he can't say anything at all because he knows what will happen. France had been everything Austria had said, harsh with his pace and the way he'd muffled the younger brunet's cries and it had been glorious. His heart is pounding by the time his lover removes his fingers to adjust above him and the thrust is swift, enough to make him cry out. Discretion was far from his coherent thoughts; all he can focus on is the man's facial expressions hovering above.

Good thing France knows about how many times Austria can lose himself and still perform, or he would have cried in frustration. His eyes do prickle stubbornly when his legs are pinned up by Austria's arms, but when he moves it's dizzying. The angle is just right, the force hard enough that he probably couldn't force himself to be quiet if he tried. A hand comes to clasp firmly over France's mouth and takes care of that problem. His breathing had been shallow before it became restricted and he instinctively arches but there's nowhere to go. He isn't panicked; France is more than aware that the man above him would never cause him serious harm, but it is very overwhelming in its own right.

It's the question that is what tips him over, emotionally and physically and he's unapologetic to the tears idly cutting their way along his temples. He makes a sound, sharp and pleading as he does all he can do, fingers tangling in the shirt he hadn't managed to completely remove, none too gentle with how he winds and tugs. The smallest bit of tenderness has France needy, but now the blond has been given far too much for his own good. ]

[Seeing France losing his composure like this had not ceased to be magical to Austria, and he wondered if it ever would. Certainly, tonight, after having missed him for months, it's a breath of fresh air. And it would almost be tempting to say he didn't realize the need was there, that the longing was there, but he did, and he knew how painful it had gotten. For once, he hadn't tried to deny it. But it has a way of still catching him off guard.

More than the power, more than the forbidden feeling of it all, it's the trust. That tremor, that hint of vulnerability in France's voice leaves him torn between the prospects of ruthlessly kissing him and of watching him. And when France does cry out like that, he can't bear to stifle it with his lips, not yet. Only to respond with a similar sound of his own.

He'd worry about who heard later. He'd worry too much, probably, but it doesn't matter now.

It's only when he knows he's going to go harder that he covers France's mouth. Then, perhaps, it is a little bit about the power, as he favors the sound of muffled pleading according to that particular whim. The mere fact no matter what Austria does, France is clinging to it all, both in the literal sense and otherwise, is enough to make him curse under his breath. He's gasping and tears are coming from his eyes too, which isn't new to them, but perhaps it's new in this arrangement. It's confirmation that when he has cried in the past, it hasn't always been about the beauty of the pain, or the sensation of being penetrated. It's the feeling of being torn open emotionally, of forcefully having his most guarded self suddenly exposed, and the feeling of that being perfect.

He's using his whole weight now; a few more incoherent comments about being buried in the other man and he comes again. His back will surely ache tomorrow. There are feathers everywhere.

He isn't done, but this time it does take a moment for his eyes to come back into focus. He's still twitching inside of him, and his eyes zero in hungrily on France's cock, and the mess it's leaving on his abdomen, and he whispers.] You have to tell me when you can't bear it anymore, before I touch you... I couldn't bear to end it too soon. God what I wouldn't give for you to have just an ounce of this affliction, I want to see what it would do to you, being in such a constant state of mindless need that it doesn't matter when or how many times, what I could do with you then-- [and as if to accentuate the point his hand gropes around for France's wrist on his back, guiding them down to coax him towards slipping his fingers inside while he continues the next round. He's soaked. Completely.

What comes from his next is a combination of a moan and dissolving into laughter at what he's about to say. The irony, that he wasn't even intending to continue the power trip when he searched for the words, but that it's what feels right, is another beautiful assurance that this is perfect for them, and he's beaming.]

I think you'll just have to beg for it...

_{[ There's some banging on Austria's door in the evening. Not too late.. maybe around 8 pm. Followed by: ]}

YO FRAAAAANZ!! YOO-HOO, GUESS WHO..!!

[Austria knows that voice anywhere, and he's happy to hear it again (though also mentally preparing himself for what's to come) but...

Is he asking for France? Presumably he only just now returned to this world -- Austria would have heard him even if his door wasn't being knocked on, let's be real -- did someone tell America about the two of them? He hurries over to the door to open it.]

France isn't home at the moment. Hello and good to see you too? What of me? Am I air?

[he's really not processing that America is just calling him Franz for no reason]

Dude..!! Why the hell would I wanna see that Frenchy guy.. I came here to see you! Franz! Like.. Franz Sherbet..! Remember?

_{[ Anyway, he just barrels on through and once he's in Austria's space, he'll go in for a BIG OLE HUG. ]}

Hahahaha! When I came back here, I remembered all of our memories.. well, most of them..! Definitely the lessons you gave me, thank god!

[frenchy guy]

I-- [He doesn't have time to even process it or remind him he said stop calling him that before he's attacked with the hug.] Ah -- you're yelling in my ear!

[The hug isn't refused though, and especially after America mentions the lessons Austria might lean into it a bit.]

Shh -- just. Come in. Sit. Did you just arrive here, then? [wait] What do you mean you remember most of them?

C'mon, dude! I wanna show you something..!

_{[ He's just going to take Austria's hand and drag him over to where he remembers the piano being last. ]}

Well, it's weird. I feel like there's stuff I forgot, but then things keep coming to my mind the more I'm here.. but you know what's weirder? I forgot all of them when I went back home!

_{[ He releases Austria (granted he allows himself to be dragged around) and sits at the piano bench like a proud student. ]}

I forgot everything, but something told me to learn the piano when I was there. In fact, when I started playing, it felt like a deja vu.. something just begging me to not give it up.

So..

_{[ He cracks his knuckles, ouch, and then wiggles all of his fingers before placing them on the piano and playing a nice sounding chord. ]}

I did what a student should do.. I never gave up.
And I'm really happy now, because coming here reminded me of the reason why.

[Lucky for him the piano has not moved. Austria allows himself to be dragged (it wouldn't be the first time) and it takes a moment for what America is saying to actually sink in. He... forgot when he went back home?

By the time that sinks in he's listening intently, a little fascinated by the fact that the feeling was enough to compel him to keep learning. Maybe it was true, then, that something from this place would linger, no matter what. There are half-formed thoughts running through his mind that have nothing to do with any of this but the chord brings him back to the moment, and he smiles. America is expressing himself like he's writing a Hollywood script, but Austria can tell it's genuine. If anything it's endearing.]

Music has a way of staying with us. Apparently, transcending states of consciousness. [Maybe the movie-speak is rubbing off on him for a minute there.] I want to hear what you were working on back home.

_{[ America would go off on his scientific theories that have to do with reality jumping but that would just rabbit trail to his theories about deja vu and parallel universes and we don't have time for that. Instead, he flashes a brilliant smile up to his tutor, eager to show off his progress. ]}

You helped me back home, too.. kinda funky you ended up being my teacher in both universes, but check it out.

_{[ Anyway, he plays this, maybe not as smoothly as the video shows, but it's definitely Mozart and he's definitely improvising some jazz flair to it. A huge improvement from before. ]}

[Helped him back home...? He would, if asked, there's nothing unusual about the notion that he would give lessons to a fellow nation. But it's still a pleasant surprise that America would have come to him in the first place, without the unique circumstances of living in the same apartment building.]

Funky?

[yes the word is extremely weird coming from Austria's mouth.

He sits and listens, nodding at the start, and as he continues the grin grows. Not only is it a huge improvement, he's getting to hear America in more detail. He's always looked to another nation's musical styles for a better idea of what makes them tick, but hearing someone themselves perform and interpret the way they want was an even clearer lens.

Golf clap.]

It is freeing to have more means to express yourself, is it not? Bravo, sir, you should be proud of yourself.

[He has a feeling America doesn't need to be told that, but "I'm proud of you" was too touchy-feely to enter Austria's mind as a possible comment. The sentiment is there, though.]

Totally funky. Parallel universe kinda funky, but it's cool. You got me to this point here and back home. I am proud of this, but..

_{[ He trails off, sitting perched on the piano bench at a lower level than Austria. He idly picks at something on his own pair of denims as if it were interesting. Very rarely does America not try and take all the credit for things, but he owns up to the fact he really couldn't have done this without Austria's tutoring. It's really something.

His gaze bounces upward and he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. ]}

I couldn't have done this without you.

[It is very strange to know something could happen in two realities at once. But he sees the sudden humility and is taken aback, and what scrap of nurturing instinct he has is certainly tapped into. It takes a moment once the words are said and they share eye contact quietly, which also feels entirely new, the quiet of it all with America and then Austria finally clears his throat.] Oh nonsense, it could have been anyone... [He trails off, too, not really believing his own argument either. There wouldn't be anyone with centuries of experience -- well, there might be, but Austria counts himself lucky America didn't suddenly take an interest in the flute instead.

Moving towards America he puts his hand on his shoulder.] We'll keep going with it. I'm looking forward hearing more.

[a pause, and then, pleasantly]

Would you like coffee? ... Do you drink coffee?

[hhhghgh]

_{[ His smile only grows the more Austria talks and the mention of coffee he kicks his feet a little. ]}

Dude, of COURSE I drink coffee! It's tea that is stupid, remember? I mean, I guess I used to be a big tea drinker, but I guess that was such a long time ago!!

_{[ It's kind of cute how America considers his colony days "so long ago." He's baby. ]}

Anyway, I'm glad it was you, though. You've been the best instructor that I could ask for!

[america runs on dunkin]

Espresso, though?

[The buttering up earns an oh, stop it with a wave of his hand, but it also earns the following suggestion:]

...I could make you an Eiskaffee, if you'd like; that's over vanilla ice cream.

[Come to think of it when was the last time he made one for himself? It's always just plain espresso with whipped cream on top for him. But ice cream is sounding good now... he wanders into the other room and the loud sound of the machine goes on.]

Like an affogato? That sounds really good! I don't think I've had that before.

_{[ America, rather curious, stands from he piano bench and wanders after Austria. Might as well see how this whole thing is done. He rubs the back of his own neck, too, looking a bit coy. ]}

I remember some of the other stuff we did together too.

_{[ OHHHH. BOY. ]}

I know that, uhhh, we probably both didn't mean anything all lovey-dovey with it, but.. it was fun, and, uhh, I think it kind of brought us closer together in a way.

_{[ The words roll off his tongue really quickly, but the volume is considerably lower than how he usually speaks. ]}

I don't know. I appreciate you a lot..! But like, you know, not in a..

_{[ His hands kind of wave in the air as he can't precisely spit out his feelings. They aren't.. romantic, but he supposes he sees Austria in a different light now and he likes that. ]}

.. I mean! I know you don't feel that-that way about me and I don't feel that-that way about you, but yeah.

_{[ Bless his heart, where did all of that come from? ]}

Yes, precisely, though even this may be a little less bitter. I normally would do it with slower brewed coffee, but in the absence of the means to do it, an Americano seems apt, I would think.

[But it's good, that he's talking about coffee; it's a reminder that sure, he's young but he's not a kid kid, which is for the better once America starts bringing up the other... things.

Once the espresso shots are brewed, he slows a little, giving the first filter a whack to empty the grounds into the garbage. Hearing America go quieter, the second filter doesn't get as harsh of a hit.]

It's... of course, I understand. [He swallows, having largely avoided eye contact under the guise of working on those coffees, but now the ice cream is in the cups and the shots have been cooled with water and poured over and stirred and he hands America his serving, running over to a tin to take a wafer and put it on top. And by then there's no excuse to look away anymore, is there? He catches America's eye finally, warm, if not outright smiling.]

Likewise. I am pleased that you're back.

[There's a pleasant memory of squeezing at the other man's hips and his eyes drift down to that area momentarily, but that's undignified and he spoons a little ice cream into his own mouth, walking towards the table, pulling out a chair for America.]

_{[ It's a little weird that Austria doesn't have much to say about what America is talking about. I mean, it is sort of an awkward thing to discuss but he felt like he needed to express his thankfulness. At the same time, America feels like he would respond just the same way. Stuff like this wasn't easy to discuss until you got over that weird hurdle of.. weirdness.

Thankfully, America is blissfully unaware of Austria's line of vision.. though, he wouldn't really be mad anyway. He doesn't know what Austria and France's deal is other than they are something, so to him, he thinks maybe that means he's cut off from being physical with the older man again.

He takes a sip of the drink, letting the cream give him a foamy mustache over his upper lip. Though, he's smiling faintly too. ]}

Guess those days are kinda over with us, which is, y'anno.. I understand.

_{[ Maybe not, though. He and Klaus had established some open arrangement when they were together. It's highly possible America is fishing for some hints about the status of Austria and France's relationship. He is, after all, incredibly nosy, especially when it might pertain to something that effects him. ]}

I just.. never would have thought you and France, man. Like, woah. That's really something, but maybe it shows I don't really pay attention to you guys that much.

_{[ "You guys" is his language for "the rest of the world" but you know. ]}

I--

[The words catch in his throat; he's trying to process it and it'd be extremely amusing to hear it talked about in terms of "those days" if he didn't feel a pang of guilt. Okay, no, it is amusing. With the guilt.]

I never said that.

[He's blinking, working through all the lines of logic, fiddling with the spoon.]

Do you really think France would ever agree to monogamy? I wouldn't allow anything one-sided in that regard, where he got to dally about and I were -- no, particularly not here, not with all the things this place does. We're not exclusive.

[He's regretting the word choice of "allow" a little bit, but moving on.]

I never would have either. Even just upon arriving here we loathed each other. Loathed, dreaded, what have you -- something about this place broke down the walls we put up for each other. [There's a fondness about him but he's definitely still looking down at the ice cream.] That and all living together in the apartment building. If there's one thing I miss about being an empire it's having so many of us living together. But I never would have thought you and I would have that opportunity, being an ocean apart.

[Now he looks up, with a dry smirk.] Unless you decided to invade, of course.

_{[ The more Austria talks, the more America is inclined to listen, and, as a result of that, the more the smile grows on his face. If Austria wanted to straight up ask him how he was doing here and America would miraculous be honest with him, he would have to say he wasn't exactly okay. At least when it came to companionship. He was all excited to be back here because it's cool, but it was already starting to feel lonely.

He doesn't understand what it's like having an empire actually live altogether. For whatever reason, things were kind of messy when he lived with England. He did, somehow, remember the play dates he had with Canada, though it's very vague as most of his memories are when he was a colony. There was a sense of peace and unity in those moments (even if France and England had a history of not getting along. It seems as if they could calm down just for a moment.)

In any case, he sets his coffee down and stands, making his way over to the other side of the table and just.. asserting himself to sit sideways in the other man's lap. Good god, he's heavy. His arms wrap around the brunette, though, and he settles his cheek on top of Austria's hair. ]}

That makes me really happy..! That means we can totally fuck still!

_{[ America please.
And as expected, Austria's little jab does go over his head, but he went ahead and insinuated something instead so maybe it didn't. ]}

I'm just really happy you treat me so nice!
_{[ This statement just kind of verifies how dependent he is on validation. ]}

I am sure that whatever it is you're composing in the next room is going to be beautiful and inspiring. Right now though...

[ He can't go over his writing horrible smut with a few bars here and there stopping and starting. It's been an hour, Austria come on. ]

I've been compiling a list of things in the meantime that could benefit us during Cordis. Would you like to see it?

[ prooooomising? ]

[sorry the Bösendorfer doesn't have headphones]

Send it while my train of thought is already lost.

[If he weren't interested at all, though, he would have left it on read.]

[ Well SooooRRRrrY maestro for interrupting those pretty fingers. Said hands are also a distraction to his writing but there are more pressing matters! He has a limited time to work with. ]

I just want to shop for a few nice things for us, and as we are more than taken care of financially I think a little splurge is in order.

[ That's a preface, sent nicely in its own little message bubble. Moments later, he unleashes the thunder. He can hear the quiet alert go off with every text. France is well-versed in making lists of such extravagant nature. Fussy, but thorough.

Several texts later, he caps his list with: ]

I'd be lying if I didn't want a gratuitous amount of pate. That was quite nice last time.

[ Yes, he just got a shopping list for actual groceries. Appetites come in more than simply sexual, unfortunately. He wants tarts, and chickens, and fish, and pates, and a little bit of junk just to satisfy his inner fat child. Also wine. That's just a standard though. ]

[every time that notif goes off he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand further on end.

France might hear Austria's hand flop -- or slam, who knows -- onto the desk, too.]

This couldn't wait? You couldn't write it down and give it to me later?

[he wasn't getting anywhere with the composing, it's okay. he's accepted it now.]

I'll get you pate.

Only not when all three moons are out. Not in front of me anyway. Unless it's pork liver.
No fowl.

For next Cordis proper, though, we can plan something. Fancy. We haven't been extravagant in a little while.

Duchess potatoes.

I'm adding lingonberry jam to the list.

[ The very audible slap makes the Frenchman scoff in the direction of the doorway. Why yes, they are keeping this to text for now, just out of principal. ]

The last time I did that it got mysteriously misplaced, as if you didn't want to splurge on some of the more exotic ingredients I wanted to try and use in our meal.

[ Ooh, the accusations! When in space... A long, lamenting sigh can be heard and then tap tap tap tap tap TAP TAP TAP omg France stop. ]

It's not like I am plucking you... oh fine. I can practically hear your bristling from in here.
In fact, I do hear you abusing that poor desk. Be gentle!

I haven't had those in so long. You're trying to fatten me up.

[ Lingonberry noted. He can figure out uses for it. Fancy baking ones. ]

I didn't. And now I do.

Treats are treats, France. If they become the norm they stop being treats.

Nor have I, but I am not trying to fatten you. You're the one insisting on pate.

If your feline tendencies feel so inclined towards organ meats, I could make you a beuschl.

[It's.... lung stew. Oh but it was trendy, the Elevated and Sophisticated Peasant Food of the late nineteenth century in Vienna... he knows how to dress it up nicely.]

You seem awfully concerned with the welfare of our desk, is it on your mind?

But I'm pretty!

[ That is his immediate retort, so kneejerk that it is sent in blatant protest to Austria insisting that treats could be overdone into normalcy.

Maybe he's #worthit and that should be his normal? Hmph. He's feeling particularly cheeky today. ]

You are the one that made the mistake of ordering pate for me on our date back in the first time I was here. I blame you for my affinity to it now.

[ See? But it's sweet because he's bringing up old dates. Right? Right? ]

Beuschl was not how I anticipated that sentence end, but I digress. Okay. I will be happy to let you prepare a meal.

Is it? It's a very nice table. I'd hate to see it get dinged up is all.

[ Mhmmm. ]

What does that have to do with anything?

[Ouch? I mean. He isn't disagreeing.]

Do I even want to know how you thought the sentence would end? You know I'm not the type to refer to myself as organ meat. [unless he's feeling particularly ignored, then it's chopped liver.] Beuschl. With lots and lots of dumplings.

Are you sure that's all? [he's not sure which one of their minds went south first...]

We're going to run out of room with a shopping list like this... which begs the question. Had you wanted to upgrade?

[ Does France ever really give him the opportunity to use such a term? Even when he's balancing out his relationships, he's usually pretty attentive. The blond doesn't even seem to react to the essential 'so what?', because he's uh.

Vibrating with excitement. His eyes might have skipped down and he needs to just reread the rest before he replies and puts his foot in his mouth. ]

Are you talking about upgrading the kitchen? How are we going to manage that one?

[ Yes. That's what he got out of that. That was the only IMPORTANT part of the conversation. Even thirst can be set aside. ]

I suppose indirectly. But I mean overall. Rather than an approximation of a suite. It's always been a bit awkward having to go into the hallway to fetch this or that from the other's place.

[it was an idle thought, and it's sinking in that it feels... kind of huge. but normal.]

It is difficult. I have been mostly fond of living in close proximity to others. That's the only thing I truly miss about the empire days, having so many people under one roof. Such a thing isn't possible at home unless it's the result of aggression from a boss. It is the only time I suppose I can have that sort of company without an ugly underbelly.

[there's a while before the next text.]

Making a home that's somewhat removed from it all is also something we aren't afforded at home. Not with another person, that is.

[He's sitting at the desk, still, but he's turned around and staring at the door.]

[ France's anticipatory fidgetting goes still when the first set of messages finally arrives. It took Austria a couple of moments so he'd been anticipating a long message. He hadn't anticipated that message. Again, he has to read it over to allow it to sink in. Is he blushing? His face certainly feels warm when he goes to rub at a cheek.

His fingers hover over the keyboard but he doesn't really know to frame it. What they have now is the closest thing he's had in a very long time to cohabitating with someone. Even then, it really was an approximation of a suite. They could retreat to their separate apartments if need be.

It had been a natural transition to default into extended sleepovers where they played house, but it was a completely different thing to intentionally find a place just for them because they wanted to live together.

The fidgeting resumes when he sees that Austria has started to type once more. This message is shorter but it automatically makes him smile, all thoughts of his shopping list and writing falling to the back burner in favor of standing and making his way into the room Austria had settled in. France doesn't look all that composed walking in and when it's obvious that the man had been staring at the door, waiting, he has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling wider.

Really, he has no choice but to deposit himself in Austria's lap. The kiss is fairly aggressive but he's processing a lot. Sorry to knock the poor man's glasses askew but things had to be done. He pulls away with a shaky laugh, fixing the frames back in place. ]

I am overemotional at the prospect of a larger kitchen. That is all this is.

[ It's obvious that isn't the case. Clearing his throat, he sits up a little straighter, hands settling on the chair back. ]

Do you really want to? Make a home, that is... [ CUE THE SICK JAN COUGH--I'm sorry please ignore this. ] That is, together. [ Just saying it makes his chest ache, and it's confusing that he should get so nervous and excited to do what they've essentially been test-driving for several months now. ] Are you sure that you want to share a closet with me? I've heard the tuts when you are trying to find things... [ This is a man trying not to cry like a little bitch. Excuse him. ]

[His body language is welcoming when France approaches him but even then, he isn't prepared for the attack that ensues.] I-- ow. Jesus. [It's muffled against that kiss and he pulls him in nonetheless. With a whimper.] I... I thought you might be... [It may be obvious that it isn't the case, but it's a deflection Austria is willing to latch onto.]

Make a hom-- God that is what I wrote isn't it. [His hands are on his own cheeks. It sounds so much more intimidating out loud.] I mean... yes? It just seems the natural course of action... N-not to be crass but I suspect we've got enough for a house. [His face is beet red by the time he says that, there are so many implications in it.] I was thinking someplace in Level One...

Th...the simplest solution would be if I simply did not permit you to wear clothes. [There's a pointed glare; he's obviously kidding, but that glare is still a little glassy, and his nose still twitches in a sniffle.] But I do know you; we could always find more than one closet. [He swallows.] A-and perhaps a cellar.

[ Austria's face really turn such a satisfying shade of red, even if at the present moment a good portion of his face is being covered while he comes to terms with what he'd propositioned. It is intimidating. The good thing is that France doesn't take him reeling at the implications to heart because it's a shared panic.

A good panic, but still a mild crisis. It shouldn't be. They were at a stage in their relationship where they took turns living in one another's apartments, so why not make it easy on themselves and get rid of that barrier in their living arrangement?

There wasn't the gray area of how they felt toward one another and hadn't been since that first night when he'd arrived back, and maybe that's why it feels so much harder to do casually. ]

Oh, Level One... that's such a lovely area.

[ Expensive. He has to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the idea that they could very well front the bill. He fails to hold in the chuckle at Austria's solution, but the way he's being looked at makes him twist a bit to hide his face. He's elated but the sniffle had caught him off guard.

He is fast to wipe away at his face and take a deep breath to calm himself. ]

A nice closet with a lot of storage? [ Oh, he's looking at him sideways. He will be back to his normal bravado when they're done here but uh... give him a few. ] Maybe a spare room we could use for your music. That's only fair if you're thinking of a cellar.

[ Even if the wine isn't the same. God his heart is hammering uncomfortably fast. He could get up but he feels frozen in place. France draws nonsense into the smooth gloss of the desk he'd been so quick to defend with the pad of his fingers, hiding the hopeful smile. This is not a honeymoon, damn it. ]

It would be nice to have more outdoor space than a balcony. I'd like to grow things...

[ Gag him. Please. ]

[Tsk. Austria makes the sound idly, it has an air of why are you weeping about it but it's more affectionate than anything else, coming with a brush from his fingers to get France's hair out of his eyes.]

Plenty of storage, yes. And... I'd love a music room, certainly. I'd hope to find reputable piano movers here... my god having a garden with you. I'm better with flowers than I am with food, but just thinking of you being able to work with the freshest things... [He leans his head forward to touch their foreheads to each other. With the decrease in eye contact due to the positioning, it's easier to get the following out.]

It's also... oh this feels very superficial. Given the fantasies we dabble in, it's just... trickier to fully immerse oneself in the grandiosity of such a status difference when in a building like this. It isn't just me wanting to feel more regal or feel more tended to -- I mean partly -- but I haven't felt like I could give you enough of what's in my own mind during all this. We settled into this because of what we crave, and... well you like being kept, do you not? I want to do exactly that, keep you, not... I don't know what I'm saying. An extra room designed specifically for keeping would be better than making do with the slight differences in... in thin-walled living rooms. Stairs. Stairs, don't you think they would feel more immersive even from the simple act of descending to meet you?

[A small hum, shaking his head a little bit, as much as the forehead touch would allow. Just a little rocking.

I could never prioritize such a thing if I had more pertinent expenses. But... [His voice lowers and becomes warmer, and his hand moves to rest on France's thigh, moving down it ever so slowly to pet. And the eye contact is back.] I don't.

Perhaps it's materialistic to want to devote so much of the home to outlandish fantasy. But I'm not much of a traveler.

[ He takes a shaky breath and leans in closer when their foreheads touch, letting his eyes shut. The simple act calms some of his nerves and he lets his hands slip to wind around the man once more. France had come to appreciate how simple gestures were enough from this man to put him at ease. It's not completely successful in this case, but it is better.

By the time Austria mentions how France likes to be kept a smile has appeared. It all sounds so good, having a space that fit their actual tastes. Privacy to act however they wanted. Fear of being heard had never kept him from responding genuinely to whatever scene the brunet would set up. His approval is clear though. ]

I do love how elegant you look on a staircase. We would have the room we've been missing in this small apartment. Not that I am not grateful that we've been given a place to stay, but it isn't going to reflect our shared tastes. How long has it been living in the same place? It's time to seek out something you'd want. [ And because it's on his mind, obviously, he adds: ] What we want, hm?

[ His forehead creases lightly when he peers at Austria, who has finally returned to paying him a little eye contact. The palm stroking his leg is just as warm and inviting as the man's words. He's weak to it of course, and the coil of excitement surprises him. Later. ]

What's the use of having money if you do not use it occasionally to give you experiences you'll enjoy? We've been saving without even knowing it.

[ Correction: Austria has. France doe eyes much too much with his whole trophy husband habits. ]

[ spain groans as he starts to come to. sanguis is completely different from cordis and while spain is excited to get bull horns for a change, he's not sure how much he likes everything else about it. he's... sore. that's the best way to put it.

it's a soreness he hasn't felt since the last time he had se--

oh.

he opens his eyes and blinks awake, looking around him and immediately sees austria next to him, still asleep. there are marks across his neck from spain's passionate lovemaking that look... more passionate than usual. ]

Querido!

[ because the immediate thought is to shake him awake ]

Are you alright?!

Hm...

[The first thing Austria notices when he wakes up is that he, too, is sore.

Not bad.

Details of the previous night slowly become clearer as he eases into consciousness and then there's a delighted sort of disbelief. Scratching debris from the corner of his eye, he smiles remembering that the intensity of it all had brought him to tears.

Then he finally processes Spain's concerned tone, and the fact that he's being shaken.]

Ja... [He trails off through a sated grin, placing a gentle hand on Spain's arm.] An understatement to be sure, don't you think? Good morning to you too.

We've...

[ there's a blush? on his face. wow that's never happened before but it's hard not to when he remembers what they got up to last night.

(he's pretty sure he moo'd) ]

We've never been that rough before.

[(if there was a moo, Austria might have inwardly chuckled through all the roughness, but he had no room to judge with now many times his voice had started cracking in inopportune moments after getting swan traits)

Is it a nod? Is he shaking his head? It’s a strange slight circular movement; he’s not fully alert yet, but he’s agreeing.]

No, we haven’t. [There's a dreamy look as he touches his fingers to his own neck where the marks are.] I didn’t think you ever wanted to. [Still, he knows that Sanguis is new for Spain, and that it might be unnerving.] Are you all right?

[ there was definitely a moo. he'll laugh about it later, but for now he's going to be so embarrassed by what they got up to. ]

I... [ he takes a deep breath and then just flops down back next to austria ] I don't know. I don't think I've been that rough with anybody.

[For a moment Austria's heart aches a little, if only out of sympathy. He puts his hand on Spain's chest, losing the playfully seductive tone in favor of something more sincere.]

It's all right. Really. [He has to stop himself from saying "I loved seeing that side of you," knowing it's a new "side" for Spain to begin with.] I know it probably felt foreign, but I don't want you to worry about me, I... loved every second of it.

[really, it isn't even Iris and Austria is ... alarmingly relaxed]

... Are you sure about that, Querido?

[ reaches up to grab his hand that's resting on his chest ]

I never want to do anything you wouldn't want to do.

[A bit of that grin comes back, especially having his hand taken.]

Do you remember, all those times early on, when I asked if you would pretend to be the villain?

[and he leans in to kiss his temple.]

It is because I trust you. Being cruel for an evening, for both our amusement, is not the same as being cruel overall. And I know you're not cruel.

PRISMATICA: Inbox

( TEXT at 3 am. ) pops your inbox cherry

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

An Invitation

Action;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

( ACTION. ) AUGUST 19th

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i swear all of our threads send me down the best youtube rabbit holes

that was such a cute song omg

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

barges in late carrying. something besides starbucks, sorry america he loves you but not your coffee

u think ur late, i'm also late

continuation for lantern sap

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I DO NOT HAVE AN ICON SUITABLE FOR THIS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oqgn9MNRw2A

shh i'm not awake

nor am i.

weeeelp

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

uh, surprise

slot for IC reactions to date auctions

( ACTION. ) like april 26th or something

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject