Work Text:
Austria laid his sketchbook in his lap and started to make light pencil lines that he intended to turn into a portrait. The sound of soldiers bustling around him faded into the background as he focused. He was sitting in the middle of the chaos as the encampment was set up, carving out his own peace.
He glanced up to see Prussia approaching, two tin mugs in hand. Austria was intrigued; they had been spending more time together since the war with Denmark started than they had since the fall of Napoleon. It was the most effectively they'd collaborated since then either. It was reminding him why he had always been fond of Prussia, and he suspected that the feeling was mutual.
Prussia said, once he was within earshot, “The officer’s tent is set up, if you’d rather not sit in the open air.”
Austria shrugged, “I am comfortable where I am for now.” He glanced up at the sky, which was as decidedly slate grey and gloomy, and added, “I will move if it starts raining. I can never tell in your unpleasant Northern weather.”
That got a slight chuckle from Prussia. He shook his head and replied, “I don’t think it is going to rain any time soon.”
He extended one of the mugs to Austria, “Coffee?”
Austria was never going to turn down that offer. He took it, saying, “Gladly.”
He took a sip as Prussia settled himself across from him. The liquid bore little resemblance to coffee aside from being hot. It was terribly bitter, certainly burnt. Austria wrinkled his nose and said, “That is revolting.”
Almost on instinct, Prussia said, “Snob. It tastes fine to me.”
Austria rolled his eyes, but in truth he was more amused than annoyed at the insult, “I think you’ve had too much camp coffee. You’ve gotten used to it.”
He took one more experimental sip, which only confirmed that it was objectionable. Prussia scoffed, “Or maybe you haven’t had enough of it.” He paused before adding, “Though I am pleased to see that you are getting your pretty white uniform dirty for once.”
Austria put the mug aside, which freed both of his hands to return to sketching. He had intended to render Prussia from memory as he looked on the battlefield, but the man had now obliged him as a reference – not that he was aware of that. He would be insufferable if he knew how many pages of Austria's sketchbook were full of him.
He replied, his tone not successfully scolding, “I have been to war before, I assure you. And Francis provided proper coffee at Villafranca.”
He saw a shadow cross over Prussia’s face at the mention of France. There was a twitch of muscle in Prussia’s jaw. Austria mused on the reaction:
Are you angry that he beat me? Or are you still nursing your grudge, killing him in your mind for the humiliation of Jena? You never were one to let things go.
He decided not to press the nerve. The feeling between them was much too pleasant for an actual argument. Instead, he tactfully pivoted, “So, are you going to tell me that we have successfully routed Denmark and he’s fleeing back to Copenhagen?”
He knew that it was not the case, and the war would last longer. But he was also aware that Prussia would enjoy explaining the way that the war was going. As expected, Prussia picked up the thread and said, “No, I am not. He has retreated, but he is not going to make it that easy on us. We'll have to push him until he buckles.”
He stretched his neck slightly as though he was shaking off the stress of battle. Once he was done, he continued, “Not that we have to worry much. We have him on the back foot, and he doesn’t have the forces to push us back.”
He took another drink of coffee and added, with a twinkle in his eye “We're doing well. You even looked competent out there.”
From anyone else, that would have sounded like faint praise. Coming from Prussia, with his high standard for soldiers, it sounded glowing. Austria smiled at him and replied, “Competent? That may be one of the nicest things you’ve said about me. It almost sounds like you are being sweet to me.”
He bit his tongue before he accidentally added something even more blatantly affectionate. He suspected that his good mood was shared, but it was not the moment to push.
Prussia chuckled, and Austria swore that he could see a pink blush rising in the man’s pale cheeks. He replied, “I very well might be.”
Before Austria could capitalize on the warmth in the discussion, Prussia’s face fell and he chewed on his lower lip like he was thinking intently about something. Austria wondered if he should pry or leave him be. Prussia spoke, with some hesitation, “Once we win – and I am sure that we will – I hope that Mattias understands that this war was not personal. This is my-“
He caught himself, “Our political project, and it is not driven by hatred.”
There was something odd about his tone and the way he was fixedly making eye contact. Austria felt like he was speaking about something much larger, but Austria couldn’t quite put his finger on what.
Could it be related to the power grab he had attempted some years ago in the Bund? Bavaria had said that he would do it again.
He could not be certain of what Prussia was hinting at so he asked, “Are we still talking about Denmark?”
Prussia shook his head ever so slightly, but he said, “Of course.”
Austria still felt uneasy, so he said, “Really, Gilbert? You are making me nervous.”
Prussia stood up, placed aside his cup of coffee. He walked over and quietly took Austria’s hand in his own. He said, as he brought the hand to his lips, “You shouldn’t worry about it.”
He pressed his lips to Austria’s fingers and knuckles. Austria still felt skeptical, but he could not deny that he liked the way the kisses felt. Had they not been in the middle of a busy encampment, he would have been tempted to ask for more of those kisses.
He was distracted enough that he didn’t realize that Prussia could see his sketchbook until the other man smirked and said, “Are you drawing me?”
Austria snapped the book closed, but it was not fast enough to stop Prussia from seeing that he was correct. His ego would be feeding on that fact for months.
Austria glanced down at the cover of the sketchbook, and as he looked a drop of rain hit it, followed by several more. Austria looked up at Prussia and said, “So, it isn’t going to rain, huh?”
It was Prussia’s turn to roll his eyes, “Let’s go to the officer’s tent. Then you can draw me as much as you want.”