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"I am going to regret this, am I not?" Austria sighed, resignedly being pulled out to the hotel's gardens by an excited Hungary.
"Oh, c’mon! It will do you some good to bask in the sun, or to have some social life from time to time. Now where are they? Gil told me under the oak..."
"I have social life." He tried to protest, although she wasn't listening to him. Maybe better, because he didn't know if the weekly meetings with his neighbors, to discuss lawn mowing and garbage disposal, counted as 'social life'. What if she was right and he needed to socialize a bit more?
They finally found the group she was looking for. They were scattered in a ring over a picnic blanket (that looked too much like a regular hotel bed comforter) and seemed to have just finished their snack time.
But everyone scooted over when Roderich and Erzsi reached them. She flopped down by Prussia's side, greeting him with a peck to the lips, and Austria settled on his other side, next to Germany. He saluted his neighbor with a nod and then looked over the rest of the countries present.
On Ludwig's right sat Lithuania, who was talking in whispers to a grinning Poland perched on this shoulder. After them, Ireland was leaning forward to steal the top off Spain's half-melted ice-cream sandwich, whom, oblivious to her actions, was arguing with his brother about something trivial. Completing the circle, France, turned to greet Hungary with a flirty smile, which prompted Prussia to give him the finger.
"There, there." She rolled her eyes, pushing Gilbert's hand down. "What are we playing?"
"Well, we just determined that you can't play poker with a UNO game, and the last time we played UNO England almost lost an eye-" Ireland began.
"You were the one who hurled a fork at his face for drawing you a +4, also he's not here." Portugal pointed out.
"I think it's better if we stay away from UNO." Germany said, side-eyeing Gilbert. Austria's lip quirked up in amusement, because he knew about a certain incident that Ludwig was most certainly remembering.
"That's why I said we play Spin the Bottle!" Poland suggested, waving his empty beer.
"Feliks no..." But Toris' plea fell to deaf ears.
"Yes!!" Ireland and Spain cheered out simultaneously, raising their fists into the air.
"I also agree." France nodded.
"I don't think that's a good idea..." Germany tried to protest, although Roderich noticed some color blooming on this cheeks.
"Oh, c’mon bro, don't be a downer." Gilbert reached Behind Austria's back to pat him on the shoulder. He exchanged a quick glance with Hungary. "We are all in."
"Why not?" Portugal shrugged. "That's seven against three."
"Why do you assume I would be against?" Roderich frowned at him.
"Well you are... you." Henrique scrunched up his nose, gesturing vaguely in his direction. Austria was about to get actually offended, but then Spain picked up the remains of his sandwich and bread-palmed his brother right in the face.
"Aaaarg!! What's wrong with you?!" Portugal complained, wiping the breadcrumbs and smears of cream cheese off his face.
"Don't be a dick." Antonio huffed, but doubled over when Portugal elbowed him in the ribs. He booed, scrambling away from his brother and practically draping himself over Ireland's lap. She just rested her forearms on his shoulder, keeping him from wriggling. "Are we still playing this or what?"
"Yup!" Poland leaned forward, pushing away all the envelopes from the middle of the blanket. For good measure, he placed the empty bottle on top of a metal cookie box, giving it a trial turn. "M'kay… boys and girls, bottle's mine so I make the rules."
"Prepare yourself." Lithuania mumbled, making Germany quirk up a tiny smile.
"We take turns with the bottle counter-clock wise. The second that gets pointed at has to kiss the first one on the lips. One peck is enough but like, none of that cheap cheek crap, please. We ain't five year oldes."
Gilbert raised his hand.
"I demand that if France has to kiss anyone it has to be on the forehead."
"What? Why?" Francis gasped dramatically, holding his hand over his chest. Gilbert showed him the tongue.
"Because the cookies under the bottle are mine so I get to make part of the rules too. Also, stop flirting with my woman."
Feliks seemed to muse over it. "Yeah, I approve that."
France pouted, Gilbert's chest puffed out like a proud bird's and even though Austria couldn't see Hungary's face, he knew she was rolling her eyes. Accidentally though, when he looked upfront, he made eye contact with Spain.
"Thank you for before." He mouthed.
Antonio shrugged, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement, "you're welcome" he mouthed as well and Roderich nodded back at him. He didn't need anyone to stand up for him, but it always felt nice when somebody did it because they cared, no matter how trivial the issue.
"Ready to go?!" Poland clapped, calling for everyone's attention. "Liet, do the honors?"
"Great honor of mine." Toris mumbled to himself. But he still reached forward, giving the bottle a firm twist.
Everybody leaned towards it, waiting expectantly. It spun for a minute, progressively slowing down and stopping in front of Portugal.
"Well, that's me first."
"Now me!" Poland cheered, twisting the bottle anew and letting out a squeak as it stopped in front of-
"Looks like I'll have to kiss you now, Toris." Henrique ginned.
"Wait, no! It's on Germany, look!" Poland tried to protest, grabbing Lithuania’s arm and then blowing repeatedly at the bottle to make it turn to the left.
"I don't think that's working, buddy." Ireland laughed as Lithuania managed to free his arm and tried to get up, since he was the one that had to kiss Portugal.
"This was your idea. What did you actually think would happen?" He reminded Poland, that now was hugging his right leg with both arms and refusing to let him walk.
Thank God Portugal, very amused at all that, was the one to get up and lean over to place a quick peck on Lithuania's lips.
"I would give you a proper taste of the Southern loving, but I don't want the game master to kick me out." He winked at Poland, who was now pouting grumpily at him.
"I don't like this game anymore." He decided, letting go of Toris' leg and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Too bad, we just got started." Ireland teased him, reaching out for the bottle. It spun for a while until it stopped "And Hungary has to be kissed by..."
Spain gave it a go too. "You! Well isn't that lucky?"
All the men in the group suddenly became very awake.
"Lucky for whom?" She snorted, getting up and brushing the breadcrumbs off her lap. Stepping over an open chips packet she squatted down in front of Hungary.
"All yours!" Prussia raised his arms in a showing off gesture "and please don't rush."
Both women shot him a dirty look.
"You are all disgusting." Fiona declared. She then cupped Erzsi's face gently between her hands and leaned in, to give her a soft kiss that lasted barely five seconds, but left half of the spectators in awe.
"Niicee~" Portugal whistled, giving them a thumbs-up. Even Poland stopped pouting and was nodding in agreement.
The two women exchanged an exasperated look that clearly said "Men." before Ireland returned to her previous place next to Spain.
"Okay, my turn to make this baby dance." Henrique gave the bottle a strong twist. "Although I doubt anything is going to be able to top that."
Austria should admit that he spaced out for a bit there. Hungary had been right, the weather was nice and he might have become a bit of a hermit in the past few months. But feeling the spring sun on his face and breathing in fresh air felt alleviating. He absentmindedly noticed Gilbert shouting something and Spain laughing, but it was the way Germany tensed up by his side what brought back him to reality. "What is happening?" He asked quietly.
"It's France's turn to be kissed by somebody, and also to spin the bottle."
Roderich looked over at Francis who, for some reason, seemed weirdly serious, although there was curve on his lips. But his eyes were calculating when they slid over their side of the ring. Roderich could have sworn that Francis was focusing on the man by his side as he tried twisting only his hand without touching the bottle, testing the force of the turn.
"C’mon! What are you trying’, to psychic that shit?!" Ireland complained. Spain booed and Portugal tossed a tiny ball of napkin at France's temple.
Francis swatted at his shoulder, making a face, then focused back on the bottle and gave it a very light twist.
While the rest of the group had made sure it went on for a while, this time it only made one turn before starting to slow down. Austria raised his eyebrows, watching it almost come to a stop in front of him. If the damn Frenchie did that on purpose to pick on his nerves…
"C’mon..." Francis grunted out and the bottle seemed to listen to him, as the neck slid forward another couple of centimeters before coming still.
"Is that Austria or Germany?"
"Austria!" Prussia, Poland, Portugal and Hungary declared at the same time that Austria, Ireland, Spain and France shouted "Germany!"
Truthfully, the bottle was pointing between them.
Now, in a normal game, with normal people, the one whom the bottle had just passed would have been the unlucky winner, but in this case everybody just looked at Toris, that had been the only one to remain silent.
"Um..." He looked over at France, who seemed to be trying to communicate something with his face, but clearly Lithuania and he didn't share the same Eyebrow language. Then at Austria's disgruntled face and finally at Ludwig.
He sighed, shaking his head. "I guess it's more on Germany's side."
"You didn't even look at the bottle!" Poland complained, so Toris leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Feliks' face did a weird grimace thing and then lit up in understanding "Ooooh! 'kay."
"Remember, Frenchie, only on the forehead!" Prussia raised a finger.
"Don't be ridiculous!" Hungary pushed his hand down again.
"Yeah, yeah, mister cookie master." Francis chuckled, getting up from his position to step up to Germany, leaning over his face.
Austria quirked one eyebrow. Ludwig, seemed to have become stiff as a rod, with his face getting progressively redder and blinking like a confused puppy.
"Aaa- ah. Is this necessary?"
Francis gave him a pout. "Yes, that's the game. Besides, I kiss your cheeks all the time."
"But that is only how you greet people. I-" Ludwig's voice did a little crack at the end and Francis grinned, looking awfully smug as he placed both of his palms on Germany's shoulders.
"Can we get this over wiiith?" Prussia interrupted the moment with a whine and Hungary shushed at him.
Francis paid him no mind, leaning in slowly, almost touching with his lips Germany's forehead, who was still making his best imitation of a marble statue, eyes glued to a patch of France's collarbone showing over the hem of his shirt.
Austria understood.
Or at least he thought he understood. Leaning backwards he reached for Hungary's sleeve behind Gil's back, tugging at it. She shot him an annoyed look but caught the question in his eyes, confirming it with a nod and then focusing back on the comically slow scene again.
Oh wow... little Luddy had a new crush, how cute and completely unexpected was that?
Still, cute or not, France could use a push. How long the foreplay for a forehead kiss was supposed to last?
"You know what?" Poland suddenly shouted out, startling everyone "Screw this! If Liet had to be tongue probed by like... a fake Spain-"
"HEY!!"
"-everybody has to deal with South-western germs now. Francey, goo-it all in!"
"What?! NO!" Gilbert jumped up, adopting a boxing pose and pointing at France. "Don't you dare, you cheese monger! That's my baby brother!"
"Gilbert, shut up!" Ludwig immediately regretted that, rather rude, reaction, covering his mouth with a hand and fighting the blush that, despite all possible predictions, became even deeper.
Francis' eyes softened, as he carefully took hold of the hand over Ludwig's mouth to guide it aside. Still holding it, he leaned in and this time didn't waste so much time.
Because of how close Roderich was sitting to Germany he could swear he felt the hitch in his breath and saw Ludwig's eyelids drop. He also would have expected something more lewd from France, but the kiss really did seem sweet and gentle, almost innocent. When they parted Francis was smiling and, as Ludwig opened his eyes, they stared at each other for a few seconds before the sound of Gilbert cleaning his throat in an aggressively loud way shattered the atmosphere.
Immediately, a few nations released their breath or took it in. Ireland reacted faster and weirder than anyone. She just pulled off one of Spain's shoes and hurled it at Gilbert.
"Auch!"
Hungary picked it up and smacked him on the shoulder.
"Ouch!"
And just because he could, not because he really felt the need to, Austria took it from her and hit Prussia on the stomach for good measure as well.
"Ow! Watch it, this thing got a heel."
France flopped down in his previous seat, chuckling at the scene and Roderich turned to Germany with a gentle smile. "You want a go?" He offered Spain's shoe to him, but Ludwig shook his head, so Roderich left it in the cradle of his own legs.
"I think you all did a good job of abusing my brother already." He tried to cover up the way his eyes kept darting up and to his left, but Austria followed his gaze and caught France mouthing something at him. Ludwig looked back at his lap with a teeny smile. He really did look like a giant, shy puppy.
Austria bit on his lip to hide his amusement. What a lost cause, that boy!
"So, are we continuing or not?" Poland called out, interrupting the hushed conversations that were starting to light up between pairs and groups of three around the circle.
"Yeah, c'mon!" Portugal agreed "Hungary, your turn."
"I feel like we reached peak saucy already but here I go!" She cracked her knuckles before giving the bottle a good spin.
It landed on Lithuania again.
"This game totally hates me!" Poland threw his hands up in the air. "What a bitch!"
"Why do you keep endorsing it then?" Toris shook his head.
"Whatever is the result, I will take your place!"
"Feliks, no."
"One kiss per person, it’s a new rule!"
"You can't go and make up the rules whenever you want! Also that makes no sense." Hungary chipped in.
Roderich had the feeling that the game was soon to be over. He then noticed a movement by his side and turned to see Gilbert texting on this phone.
"I'm telling you THAT-" Poland stopped mid-sentence to check his phone. "Done."
He snatched up a water bottle lying nearby, unscrewed it open and... proceeded to empty it on Fiona's head.
"Sonoooovaaa-!!!" She slapped his hand away, shaking her wet hair. Luckily her curly locks prevented her clothes from getting wet as well. "What's wrong with you?!"
"I did it for a good cause!" Feliks turned to Gilbert, that was losing it next to a facepalming Hungary. Practically out of his breath, he reached for the bottle, since it was his turn, and instead of twisting it turned it just slightly so the neck was pointing at Poland.
Feliks then proceeded to attack Toris' face, tumbling them over. But nobody even bothered to look at them, completely ignoring the scene.
"Should we be wrapping this up?" Ireland asked, patting her head with a paper towel to dry it off a bit.
"One more round, so we all get to spin." France suggested.
Austria nodded in agreement. "Let's make it quick" He gave the bottle a light twist, watching attentively as it turned on itself one time and then started to slow down on the next round, coming to a halt, undoubtedly, in front of Roderich himself. "Oh, well."
"I want to apologize beforehand." Germany sighed, going for his twist.
Roderich didn't want to admit that he was a little nervous. It's not like he was completely devoid of intimate contact! But it's been a while since the last time he kissed anyone. A few years at least, and even more since the last time it was one of his kind or that it had meant something. He felt a pang in his chest. It probably sounded infantile, but he didn't want to kiss somebody here for the first time in front of everyone else. Wait! He actually had kissed at least once four of the present- no, wrong, five, and been married to two.
But luck apparently was not on his side that day, because the bottle stopped in front of Portugal. They exchanged a disheartened look. Never mind their previous disagreement, truth was, that they had never liked each other in the first place, or even managed to get along. And the reason was sitting to Portugal's left.
Henrique sighed. "Whatever, nobody cares at this point." and scooted closer to France, pulling harshly at Spain's collar to drag him right in front of the bottle neck. "I don't want to kiss Asstria, you do it, you've banged him before."
"That's totally a cheat, you cheater." But Poland didn't seem too invested in his complaint, as he was trying to take a selfie with the remains of the picnic and a disinterested Toris under his arm.
Austria looked up at Spain, who seemed rather amused.
"I think it's better if you come over." He reached with a hand to scratch at his nape, an endearing gesture that Roderich long ago had learned to identify with sheepishness. "You have my shoe."
Oh, right. Austria looked down at his lap, blinking at the reddish and black snakeskin that he had appropriated after beating up Prussia with it. Antonio's foot was probably cold.
The nervousness that Roderich had felt before subsided as he stood up, dusting off the soles of his coat with one hand and holding the shoe with the other. It was alright, he could kiss Antonio. They've been very close in another time and it's not like they haven't shared hundreds of thousands of kisses in the two centuries of their marriage, what was one more? Specially if it was just a peck?
He came down on one knee in front of Spain, leaving the shoe on the blanket. The tiny smile stretching Antonio's lips was mirrored by the softness in his eyes, and Roderich couldn't help but smile back at him. The rest of the present were talking around them, but their babbling drifted off into the background.
"One for the old times?" Antonio asked; voice almost a whisper, and Roderich nodded. He leaned in slowly, almost hesitantly, despite the fact that he still felt safe. There was a warmth in his chest, brought in by the closeness of being in each other's personal bubble. He had always loved those few seconds; the build-up before a kiss. He could feel the familiar smell of oranges, that hadn't changed in three centuries, and a newfound, delicate tang of coffee. Laying his left palm on the blanket, near Spain's hip, for better balance, he allowed himself to be pulled closer by the arm sliding around his waist. Their noses brushed gently together and Antonio tilted his head, his breath tingling on Austria's lips.
His smile tasted like vanilla ice-cream and nostalgia.
Spain's lips felt softer than he remembered them to be, less chapped by the ocean breeze and the arid weather but still plump. Roderich had planned for that kiss to be short and proper, but Antonio always had had that cute, pouty shape to his lower lip that made it particularly kissable. It was impossible to pull back so soon, rather than sucking lightly on it and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss. Austria's fingers found their way into Spain's hair, brushing through it with care, and he shifted closer, encouraged by the firm embrace that drew their bodies together.
He breathed in through his nose, humming into the kiss and welcoming the tip of Toni's tongue in his mouth with a tender caress of his own. He was lightheaded and growing more insistent by the second.
Kissing Spain felt like standing on the top of the world again.
He was flooded with ghosts of memories, of feelings and experiences, of glory and drain. All blending in his head and translating into a fiery need, both addictive and heart-wrecking.
With their bodies instinctively seeking contact he hadn't even realized that he ended up sitting on Spain's lap, enclosed in a tight embrace and with both knees on the sides of Spain's hips, helping to keep them upright. But he could have as well let them collapse when Antonio's low groan, at the back of his throat, made a shiver run down his spine, turning all his muscles into cotton.
His heart was going crazy and because of how tight they were he could clearly feel Spain's own beating even faster. It felt like a dam breaking, flooding their bodies, minds and senses with the overwhelming ardor of the love and passion they once shared and that shaped them both in ways that were just waiting to be revived.
Austria's fingers were trembling lightly - even as his left hand came to caress the shape of Toni's jaw and cheekbones, tracing them from muscle memory - a consequence of the desire he was keeping in containment. He wanted to push at Spain's shoulders to make him fall back and follow him to the ground; he wanted to tear at the hem of his shirt and run his nails over his chest; he wanted to sink his teeth in that beautiful neck to lay his claim on it.
Instead he just balled up his fist in Spain's hair, swallowing the broken moan that the other man let out when he pulled at the soft locks and bit on that perfect lower lop. It was really difficult to breathe, and felt rather unnecessary, even though they were both panting in their shared space when their lips broke apart for a fraction of a second.
Tilting his head, Austria took control by invading Spain's mouth, caressing its insides and perpetuating the sweet dance that felt like the high of a ball; candlelight burning too bright and the music drowning out the courtsmen and guests - talking around them, and calling their names - as the power couple of Europe swung together, hand in hand, with their wedding rings sliding against each other and eyes bright with pride and joy. Two marble pillars supporting the greatest Empire of the known world and two untamable hearts pursuing the same goals. Counting on each other; comforting and challenging; always in each other's thoughts, no matter how apart; leaving for eternity a myriad of marks under each other's skin that would never fade completely, no matter how many centuries went by.
They were both so engrossed in their own bubble, oblivious to the rest of the world, that reality came crashing down like a stream of cold water.
And it was, in fact, cold water.
Austria gasped, breaking away from Spain's lips, and shaking his wet hair as the water continued to pour over their heads.
"Finally!" Poland crushed the now empty plastic bottle in his fist, throwing it somewhere aside.
With growing horror Roderich realized what they've just done. Slowly he looked down at Spain, who had an equally awkward expression on his face. He also looked kinda ridiculous with his hair all messed up from Austria's fingers and wet on the front, eyes glazed over, lips dark and swollen and a deep blush on his cheeks.
Roderich just wanted to go back to kissing him, instead he became hyper aware of the fact that he was still sitting on Spain's lap.
He was off of there in a second, flopping down on the picnic blanket and burying his face in his hands. He felt incredibly embarrassed and humiliated, just aching for the earth to part and swallow him completely. Somebody was laughing and despite his better judgement he parted his fingers to take a peek from behind them at the rest of their group.
The one that was laughing was Poland. Both Lithuania and Germany looked exceptionally uncomfortable and overly interested in the blanket pattern. Prussia and Hungary were whispering something among themselves, throwing in Austria's directions amused glances and chuckling. Francis settled on looking directly at them and grinning. Portugal was immobilized on the ground, trapped in some sort of taijutsu joint lock by Ireland, that was also covering his mouth with the inside of her elbow and looking past Austria, at Spain, with her best "sorry buddy, I tried" face.
Spain himself was giggling hysterically into his hand, hugging his knee after having adopted a sitting position that hid the reasons for his lingering agitation. In other words, he was covering his crotch, and Austria took a second to thank his yesterday self for having selected a long coat for this trip. Although to be fair the embarrassment alone was doing a great job at killing the last strands of his arousal.
But his hair was wet, and so were his face and his shirt under the collar, which was incredibly uncomfortable. He just wanted to leave and lock himself in his room. He needed to think and look back at what just happened to make sense of the butterflies in his stomach.
Slowly lowering his hands he balled them up on his lap, wondering which was the right way to start apologizing to everyone. Poland had already stopped laughing and now was looking at him with one cocked eyebrow, Portugal had managed to wriggle out of Ireland's grasp and was staring at his brother with his arms crossed over his chest.
Something white and dry touched Roderich's face.
Spain was holding out a paper napkin to him, hands still a bit shaky but already patting at his own cheeks with one. Austria smiled sheepishly, accepting the Kleenex and ignoring the flip in his gut when their hands brushed. Antonio smiled back at him and nodded.
"Sorry, we got a bit carried away." He said, turning to the rest. Bless his immortal soul for breaking the awkward silence first.
"A bit?! You were dry humping each other like a pair of bunnies in heat!" Feliks exclaimed.
Scratch that, Austria wanted to be swallowed by the ground again.
"Oh please! What are you, a 12 year old PG puritan? They were reconnecting!" Ireland jumped to her feet, pointing a finger at him. "And what's your damn thing with water today?!"
"I'll have you know I found my signature weapon-"
"Also, if he hadn't interrupted them, they would have taken the 'reconnecting' to the next level!" Portugal just had to throw more gasoline into the fire!
"Everyone in favor of adding 'spin the bottle' to the banned games list alongside UNO raise their hand." Germany's quiet motion was seconded only by Lithuania, who was the only one that heard him. Prussia, Hungary and France were hunching together and sharing a packet of chips as if the screaming contest unraveling was a theatre play.
"You didn't have to be so rude, you could have just called for us!" Spain snapped at Poland, tossing his wet napkin in his direction and missing.
"We tried! You ignored us!"
"And I tried to hit you over the head but she wouldn't let me!" Portugal also rose up, gesturing widely at Ireland, that puffed out her chest with her hands in jars.
"Well excuse me if I want my best friend to find happiness."
"I'm hardly unhappy now-" Spain tried to get a word in edgewise.
"Shut up, you are miserable." But she would have none of it. "And you-" she stepped up to Portugal again "-should be more supporting, and stop being such a bitter old man."
"What is that supposed to mean, you crazy woman?!"
"Stop hanging out with my emo brother and welcome to the twenty first century, you old fashioned, rancorous jellyfish."
"Bitch, I like my porn on TV when I'm alone, not in a public park." Poland chipped in, looking way too happy to be taking part in a brawl.
"I would hardly call some heartfelt kissing pornography, dear Feliks." France decided he was done with being a mere spectator and stood up as well. "You really need to upper your standards, and I would be honored to pass you some of my finest collection, but please don't call any lady that awful word ever again."
"It’s an expression, you jerk."
"Thank you, Francis." Ireland gave him a thumb up. "And they were cute, getting carried away like that, you two just don't have a romantic bone in your body."
Francis nodded. "I must confess I was not a fan when they were together, since it was not beneficial to me, but times change and now I am all for supporting my friends."
"Don't you butt in, you weirdo!" Portugal hissed. "You were the one that broke them up."
"It was not my fault! And don’t pretend you were helping Austria out of the goodness of your heart. You couldn't stand him either."
"What are we talking about now?" Poland frowned and Ireland sneered at him.
"You can't be serious!"
"You shut up, do you think I don't know you played both sides?" Portugal turned to her.
"Oh please! At least I wasn't blindly following England's orders, you lapdog-"
"But what are we talking aboooout??!"
Austria sighed. He really disliked the topic and listening to people argue about such a delicate, albeit distant, event in his history, always put him on edge. He was distracted when Spain scooted closer, leaning towards his ear.
"Do you want to get out of here?" He whispered.
Austria sighed and nodded slightly. "I really do." He looked straight, making eye contact with Hungary. For a second he felt a pang of worry. An old conversation - at the beginning of their marriage and fueled by her passing insecurities - that had featured the word 'replacement' too much for his liking, came to his memory. But she gave him a warm smile, the real, approving kind that eased his worries. She was happy now, even though Gilbert could be kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, and she wanted Roderich to find his happiness as well. So he smiled back at her, tilting his head to bury his nose in Spain's hair when he rested his head on Roderich's shoulder.
"Do you need me to give you time?" Antonio asked.
"I think I need some, yes."
"What about a nap first? Just sleep. I will leave afterwards and we don't need to talk-" he added hastily "-in fact it's better if we don't. I need time as well but I really want to stay close to you right now."
"A nap with you sounds fantastic." Austria agreed, covering Spain's hand with his own. He was emotionally and physically drained. The other four were still arguing over their heads (he thought he overheard something about Napoleon), his hair was still damp and the cold breeze that started picking up felt chilling and annoying. He was glad he had Spain's warmth draped over his side, but he'd enjoy it more under the blankets of his bed, with the blinds lowered and only the sound of their even breathing lulling him into sleep.
"Do you think they will notice if we leave now?"
Austria focused on the discussion again.
"I invented the metric system!!"
"Good luck navigating without a compass, you idiots!"
Best cabbage salad in Europe!"
He shook his head lightly, squeezing Spain's hand.
"Nah, let’s just leave."