Work Text:
This song had been particularly difficult from the moment Roderich sat down at his piano six hours ago. The notes escaped him today, no sound he made seemed right. Perhaps the piano was out of tune. No, he had it tuned just three weeks ago. Perhaps he was losing his touch. No, no, he just needed to concentrate harder, focus on the melody.
He played through what he already had written. It was fine, until he reached the end and stopped dead in his tracks. What could come next? He slammed his fingers down on the keys in frustration. He huffed and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling for a while.
He could feel his bladder pressing against the hem of his trousers. He had to use the restroom for some time now, but he refused to do so before completing this song. There was no strong deadline for it, but he had not written in weeks and he wanted to have something for an upcoming concert in his capital city.
“Why won’t the music come to me?” he said, as he pulled his head forward to sit properly. “It always comes once I get started. Why is today any different?”
The twinge in his bladder continued to annoy him.
“Perhaps a break is best. I can clear my head and step away from the sheet music for a while.” He thought for a moment. “After three more lines.”
He put his fingers back to the keys and played over what he had a couple more times. He made a few adjustments to help the piece flow better and found himself writing more notes down. One by one, they finally started to come to him. He lost himself in the flow of the music as he often did when he got in the swing of things.
As he played, he did not notice the sneaky Prussian man slip into his music room. He crept up behind him, a big grin on his face. The moment Roderich stopped to jot down the next few notes, Gilbert screamed in his ear.
“Sounds good!” He shouted, followed by a laugh at just how high he had gotten the other nation to jump.
There was a loud gasp, before Roderich threw his hands into his crotch, but it was too late. A hiss filled the room as a puddle formed underneath him and spread across his wooden bench before spilling over onto the tile floor. It splattered loudly and pooled beneath him.
Gilbert paused for a minute, and continued laughing even harder.
“Shut up!” Roderich shouted. “I’ve been sitting here for hours. It’s not because you scared me.”
“Sure, it’s not,” Gilbert mocked.
“It’s not!” Roderich whined, tears brimming in his eyes. “I’ve been holding it for a long time.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t cry, Roddy,” Gilbert said. “I’ll stop teasing. There’s no reason to cry.”
“Get out of my house,” Roderich stated as firmly as he could between tears.
“Fine, Mr. Piano Pisser. I was gonna offer to help clean up but whatever,” Gilbert giggled.
“Out. Now!” He ordered.
Gilbert left with a giggle.
Roderich huffed as soon as the door closed.
The song would have to wait.