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konstantyaCharacters: Austria, Prussia, and a Germany cameo.
Word count: ~700
Summary: Austria and Prussia have awkward bonding about their love lives, and their respective relationships to Hungary. And then they bitch about cigarettes. Because God forbid anyone ever see them being anything but hostile to each other. XD
Period: 1938.
I mentioned in the author's notes for Mood Indigo that it ended up going through a major rewrite. Well, in the process of that rewrite, the original ending had to pretty much get cut, because it no longer matched the style or direction the fic had taken. Which saddened me, because I did really like what went on in it. Seems doubtful I could work it into another fic altogether (though one never knows), so I've decided to post it as a one-off scene for now.
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osprey_archer, since she was the one who expressed interest. (Subtle shades of love, FTW!)
[Wheelchair!Austria and Prussia are hanging, post-Anschluss, and Prussia makes a remark, alluding to Austria’s divorced status.]
Austria grits his teeth. “Say it,” he hisses. “I know you’ve been simply waiting to make some bachelor crack, so say it.” It is perhaps immature and brash to goad Prussia, but after weeks—going on months—of living with the nation, Austria is too incensed to take the high road any longer.
Prussia takes a drag from his cigarette, grinning madly. He stares straight at Austria, as if in challenge. “You know, sometimes…being a bachelor…”—and here his crooked grin gets even wider—“…really sucks.”
Austria blinks.
And then the revelation comes, and his mouth opens.
“You were jealous,” he murmurs, suddenly seeing his old enemy in a new light.
“Not of you,” Prussia is quick to say with a defensive scowl, and then continues on a mutter. “Just…y’know…of the relationship and all. I mean, even West has Italy—which, well,” he says with an awkward furrowing of his eyebrows, “is a different situation and all, but he still cooks shit and wants to hang around him all the time.” He shrugs, as if to brush this off, and takes a drink of his beer.
Austria’s hand rests on the table, and he stares at it. His ring finger is bare. After twenty years, he is now used to it, but he doesn’t like the fact that he still thinks about when it wasn’t.
“Did…” he starts to ask, wonders if he really wants to know, and then realizes he needs to know, for some reason. “…Did you love her?”
Prussia looks up, then away, and shrugs, suddenly turning embarrassed as a school-boy. Perhaps he even blushes at the question. “I dunno. Maybe, sorta…I dunno,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “Finding out she was a girl was pretty weird and all, but…we used to be real cool way back when, so…I dunno. A little? Sometimes?” He shrugs again, and gives Austria a downright bizarre look. If Austria didn’t know better, he might say it resembled sympathy.
The words are unspoken, but he hears them all the same: I didn’t love her like you did.
Prussia brusquely breaks the gaze. “Anyway, whatever. Girls are lame. Relationships are for the weak.” He takes another pull of his beer and resumes the cleaning of his guns.
Austria exhales sharply through his nose, thinking that Prussia might be onto something. He reaches into his jacket for his cigarette case and thoughtfully removes one. As he lights it, the front door opens, and Germany steps in.
“Hey, lemme have one,” Prussia says, already making a move for them.
Austria pulls the case out of his reach and gives him a dry look. “You have your own,” he puffs around his cigarette.
“I’m out,” Prussia says, carelessly.
“It isn’t my fault you smoke like a chimney.”
“West, tell this pansy-ass to gimme a cigarette.”
Austria shoots him a glare, and then levels a warning look at Germany. “Tell your idiot of a brother to go buy his own cigarettes.”
Taking advantage of the distraction and flaunting his mobility all at once, Prussia leaps to his feet, leans over the table, and snatches the case out of his hand.
Austria gapes and turns back to Germany, his voice stiff and affronted, pointedly resting his cigarette in the ash tray, doing just about everything short of crossing his arms to ooze imperiousness. “Deutschland, I will not abide by this treatment while residing here.”
“Oi, pull the stick out of your ass, Nancy,” Prussia sneers, and throws the case back at him.
Austria manages to catch it before it hits his face and flushes angrily at the nation across from him, who is now lighting one of his cigarettes. “Deutschland!” he snaps, pointing at Prussia with a stern, accusing finger, holding up his violated case with his other hand as evidence.
Germany is barely in the door, hasn’t even removed his coat, and puts a hand to his forehead, trying to soothe his temples with thumb and forefinger. “You know, the Nazi party rather frowns on smoking…”
Austria merely sniffs, drops his complaint, pointedly picks his cigarette up again, and inhales a haughty lungful.
Prussia grins derisively around his stolen tobacco and says, “Yeah, well, maybe they’re not all they’re cracked up to be, then.”
(Trufact: When this scene first came to mind, I rambled out a quick summary so I wouldn't forget, and described that last line as "TRAGIC FORESHADOWING LIKE T___T")
Word count: ~700
Summary: Austria and Prussia have awkward bonding about their love lives, and their respective relationships to Hungary. And then they bitch about cigarettes. Because God forbid anyone ever see them being anything but hostile to each other. XD
Period: 1938.
I mentioned in the author's notes for Mood Indigo that it ended up going through a major rewrite. Well, in the process of that rewrite, the original ending had to pretty much get cut, because it no longer matched the style or direction the fic had taken. Which saddened me, because I did really like what went on in it. Seems doubtful I could work it into another fic altogether (though one never knows), so I've decided to post it as a one-off scene for now.
Posted for
osprey_archer, since she was the one who expressed interest. (Subtle shades of love, FTW!)[Wheelchair!Austria and Prussia are hanging, post-Anschluss, and Prussia makes a remark, alluding to Austria’s divorced status.]
Austria grits his teeth. “Say it,” he hisses. “I know you’ve been simply waiting to make some bachelor crack, so say it.” It is perhaps immature and brash to goad Prussia, but after weeks—going on months—of living with the nation, Austria is too incensed to take the high road any longer.
Prussia takes a drag from his cigarette, grinning madly. He stares straight at Austria, as if in challenge. “You know, sometimes…being a bachelor…”—and here his crooked grin gets even wider—“…really sucks.”
Austria blinks.
And then the revelation comes, and his mouth opens.
“You were jealous,” he murmurs, suddenly seeing his old enemy in a new light.
“Not of you,” Prussia is quick to say with a defensive scowl, and then continues on a mutter. “Just…y’know…of the relationship and all. I mean, even West has Italy—which, well,” he says with an awkward furrowing of his eyebrows, “is a different situation and all, but he still cooks shit and wants to hang around him all the time.” He shrugs, as if to brush this off, and takes a drink of his beer.
Austria’s hand rests on the table, and he stares at it. His ring finger is bare. After twenty years, he is now used to it, but he doesn’t like the fact that he still thinks about when it wasn’t.
“Did…” he starts to ask, wonders if he really wants to know, and then realizes he needs to know, for some reason. “…Did you love her?”
Prussia looks up, then away, and shrugs, suddenly turning embarrassed as a school-boy. Perhaps he even blushes at the question. “I dunno. Maybe, sorta…I dunno,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “Finding out she was a girl was pretty weird and all, but…we used to be real cool way back when, so…I dunno. A little? Sometimes?” He shrugs again, and gives Austria a downright bizarre look. If Austria didn’t know better, he might say it resembled sympathy.
The words are unspoken, but he hears them all the same: I didn’t love her like you did.
Prussia brusquely breaks the gaze. “Anyway, whatever. Girls are lame. Relationships are for the weak.” He takes another pull of his beer and resumes the cleaning of his guns.
Austria exhales sharply through his nose, thinking that Prussia might be onto something. He reaches into his jacket for his cigarette case and thoughtfully removes one. As he lights it, the front door opens, and Germany steps in.
“Hey, lemme have one,” Prussia says, already making a move for them.
Austria pulls the case out of his reach and gives him a dry look. “You have your own,” he puffs around his cigarette.
“I’m out,” Prussia says, carelessly.
“It isn’t my fault you smoke like a chimney.”
“West, tell this pansy-ass to gimme a cigarette.”
Austria shoots him a glare, and then levels a warning look at Germany. “Tell your idiot of a brother to go buy his own cigarettes.”
Taking advantage of the distraction and flaunting his mobility all at once, Prussia leaps to his feet, leans over the table, and snatches the case out of his hand.
Austria gapes and turns back to Germany, his voice stiff and affronted, pointedly resting his cigarette in the ash tray, doing just about everything short of crossing his arms to ooze imperiousness. “Deutschland, I will not abide by this treatment while residing here.”
“Oi, pull the stick out of your ass, Nancy,” Prussia sneers, and throws the case back at him.
Austria manages to catch it before it hits his face and flushes angrily at the nation across from him, who is now lighting one of his cigarettes. “Deutschland!” he snaps, pointing at Prussia with a stern, accusing finger, holding up his violated case with his other hand as evidence.
Germany is barely in the door, hasn’t even removed his coat, and puts a hand to his forehead, trying to soothe his temples with thumb and forefinger. “You know, the Nazi party rather frowns on smoking…”
Austria merely sniffs, drops his complaint, pointedly picks his cigarette up again, and inhales a haughty lungful.
Prussia grins derisively around his stolen tobacco and says, “Yeah, well, maybe they’re not all they’re cracked up to be, then.”
(Trufact: When this scene first came to mind, I rambled out a quick summary so I wouldn't forget, and described that last line as "TRAGIC FORESHADOWING LIKE T___T")
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-12 04:37 pm (UTC)And I have never felt sympathy for Prussia before, but now I do. He's lonely, and he looks around seeing everyone else having all these relationships and it's so unfair so he's brusque to everyone to prove that he totally doesn't WANT a relationship. Because relationships are for the week.
And then he steals Austria's cigarettes to make sure we can't possibly pity him. Oh Prussia! I am onto you!
no subject
Date: 2011-10-12 08:39 pm (UTC)Prussia's kind of weird in that way. I see him as being pretty lonely, but at the same time, I don't think it's something he really lets himself angst over. I guess? Like there are so many awesome things out there, like beer and the military and cute little baby chicks, that getting hung up on his lack of a relationship seems kind of silly. But at the same time, I think that solitude does really get to him sometimes.
But he's also too proud to stand for anyone (especially Austria) pitying him, so yeah, those cigarettes are going right in his mouth. XD
no subject
Date: 2011-10-12 09:45 pm (UTC)what I could say?
Date: 2015-12-21 01:38 pm (UTC)Re: what I could say?
Date: 2015-12-23 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-07-28 02:04 am (UTC)XD, this is really fun and good, and of course I always love me some Prussia content. The actual ending of Mood Indigo is ICONIC, though, so I suppose this was a necessary sacrifice. A very fun thing to discover, though, as I investigate what this dreamwidth thing is all about.
<3
no subject
Date: 2021-07-30 01:16 pm (UTC)(DW, in case you couldn't tell, is a LiveJournal clone. Their support is awesome, and I keep hoping fandom might migrate (back?) to it, but alas, it hasn't happened yet, heh.)