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Due to his father having such power as a regional leader, Hans has always stood out (in a good way) everywhere he goes. Yes, a nepo baby, but nobody has ever shamed him about that; but in fact the opposite! All the kids wished their fathers' were Gauleiter Landa. All the kids praised him.
Of course, with a father like that, Hans had to be as equally impressive to maintain his father's image and reputation, as well as his own. It's why he's at a social event with him right now.
He listened to his father chatting and laughing with his friends as he stood proudly next to him.
"Ah, Hans is turning fifteen in a few more days, isn't he?" asks one of the men, some political party member.
Gauleiter Landa chuckles, sipping wine. "Just a year before he enlists."
Another snickers, and glances at Hans. "What I would do to have a son like you. My son didn't even qualify going to any elite boarding school!"
They laughed vigorously at once. Hans doesn't understand the punchline of his joke. He felt awkward.
"Well, nice seeing all of you," says Hans' father, smiling. "I've got other people to greet."
All of them smiled back, with one of the men patting Gauleiter Landa's shoulder as they walk by.
Gauleiter Landa's smile fades almost instantly, and he grabs Hans' arm to pull him closer. "Hans, when people make jokes, you must laugh. Understood?"
Hans frowns. "What if I don't understand the joke?"
"It doesn't matter, you just laugh," hisses Gauleiter Landa.
Before Hans could further inquire, some other man with a boy about his age approached. Neither appeared German. Maybe of British descent?
Hans' father was quick to let go of his arm, and automatically smile, offering his hand to the man. "You must be Mr. Stein. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you as well, Gauleiter Landa," says Stein in eloquent German, shaking his hand.
Hans stared at the boy near Stein. The boy acted oblivious to Hans' gaze, staring at his own father as if he wanted to go home.
Gauleiter Landa shoves Hans forward to the boy, startling him. "Greet his son, go on," he whispers.
"Good evening. I'm Hans," he says, putting his hand out similar to the way his father did with Stein.
The boy smiles, though it seems insincere, and doesn't shake hands with him. Then Stein starts to chuckle casually, and pats the boy on his back.
"Forgive him, he's shy. This is my son; Albrecht," Stein explains. He was lying about their identities.
"And how old is he?" Hans asks, politely as possible.
"Fifteen this year."
Hans' father lights up in surprise. "It just so happens Hans is turning fifteen next week! Maybe you should invite your son to his birthday party."
"He'll definitely go!" Stein exclaims.
Gauleiter Landa and Stein chatted away as Hans kept on staring at Albrecht, noticing the tiny cake smudge near his lips. However, Albrecht didn't seem too pleased being watched like a foreign species, and gave Hans a look. It somehow deepened Hans' curiosity further.
Their fathers' chats ended right after. Gauleiter Landa raised his glass to Stein with a grin.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Stein."
Stein nods. "Likewise, Landa."
Stein walked away looking back once, thanking Gauleiter Landa, yet Albrecht stared straight ahead, unbothered.
Hans got disappointed quick. "Father, did you ask where Albrecht went to school?"
"I haven't," came the reply. "Why didn't you ask him yourself?"
"He seems a bit... distant."
"You can tomorrow."
Hans glances at his father, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Mr. Stein wants Albrecht to stay over at our house when we go to work," explains Gauleiter Landa. "I don't see why not. You'll befriend him, won't you, Hans?"
Hans smiles, nearly giggles. "Yes, father, I will befriend him."
Hans' mother is away, going to some social event that Hans could care less about knowing. All day long, he'll have Albrecht to talk with, find out what makes Albrecht catch his attention so much.
When his father was getting prepared to go to work, Hans followed him eagerly towards the frontdoor with the excuse that he wants to say his bye's, when it was actually just to see Stein drop off Albrecht.
"Ask the maids to cook for the both of you if you get hungry," Gauleiter Landa reminded his son. "I want to make sure Albrecht comes home to his father singing his praises about our household."
Where is Albrecht? Hans was getting impatient. "Yes, don't worry, father."
Finally, Albrecht and his father came in view the second Hans' father opened the door. Hans was barely able to contain his excitement, grinning, feeling like a kid seeing his play date.
"Good morning, Stein," greets Gauleiter Landa, stepping outside. "Shall we go?"
"Hello, Landa," Stein smiles, gently pushing Albrecht inside the house. "Let's go."
Hans' father turned around to them. "I have reason to assume you boys will behave all right."
"But don't go anywhere, all right?" Stein chuckles, pointing a playful accusing finger to the both of them. "I used to play soldiers with my friend all the time. Maybe you boys can do that."
"You needn't worry, Mr. Stein," Hans reassures. "We'll be very responsible."
"Attaboy," Hans' father praised before they went to the car.
Stein whispered 'great son, that one' to Gauleiter Landa's ears, and they laughed while walking, but not before Gauleiter Landa waved goodbye to Hans, and Hans smiles as he gave a small wave. Now they're left alone together.
After Hans closes the door, he turns to look at Albrecht. Unlike the social event yesterday, Albrecht is wearing a leather jacket and jeans, in contrast to Hans who is wearing a sweater and trousers. "So, what would you like to do first?"
Albrecht shrugs, not bothering to spare a word or two.
Hans pauses. "Genuine question; are you mute?"
Albrecht stares at him weirdly, then starts to consider, as if wanting to lie, but just sighs in the end.
"I'll take that as a yes," Hans replies simply.
Albrecht rolls his eyes when Hans started giving him a tour, unprompted.
"So this is my room," Hans gestures widely. "I have a wide bed all for myself. Isn't it nice?"
Albrecht had his hands in his pockets, smiling insincerely again. He blinked once.
Hans smiles, awfully cheerful. "I'll take that blink as a yes as well!"
Without warning, Hans quickly dragged Albrecht by the arm and led him pass the bed, to show him the view at the window, and instantly Albrecht's head somehow hits the closet.
"Ouch, Goddamnit!" yelped Albrecht in an oddly heavy American accent, touching the spot his head got hit.
Hans snapped his head towards Albrecht, suddenly speaking English. "You can talk? You speak English?"
"Er," Albrecht panics. "No." In English again.
"Liar liar pants on tire!" gasps Hans.
"It's liar liar pants on fire," Albrecht corrects.
Hans snickers, but suddenly gets serious. "Wait, are you not able to speak German? Is that why you don't reply to anything?"
"No," Albrecht mumbles. "To Hell with it... Yeah, I don't understand German."
"Hm. Is your name even Albrecht?" Hans asks carefully.
"Nah," 'Albrecht' sighs. "It's Aldo."
Hans tests the name. "Aldo..."
Aldo raises his hands in the air. "Now before your nazi ass snitches on me, or, God forbid, even shoot me," he says dropping his hands, holding up his index finger. "Let''s make a deal."
Hans shook his head. "Why would I do that? No deals needed."
"What, you're going to spare my life?" Aldo snorts. "Oldest trick in the book."
Hans furrows his eyebrows. "Oldest trick in the book? What does that one mean?"
"Predictable shit," Aldo spits.
Hans smiles, shrugging. "If it is a trick, what do you have to lose?"
"Damn."
"Now, back to the tour!" Hans exclaims. "Do you want to see my collection of trophies?"
"You might as well shoot me," Aldo retorts.
Hans glances at Aldo. "What an odd thing to say."
They're doing all sorts of things only Hans deemed enjoyable, except Aldo wasn't in the position to refuse. Hans wanted to play chess, spot out a specific species of birds from the window, read literature, play the piano, and swap clothes for no reason at all.
Now they're playing a propaganda board game in the living room on the floor. Like all the other games they played, Aldo kept losing.
Hans laid down on his stomach, kicking his feet and propping his cheek in his hand. "This is fun," he says, moving a piece before grinning at Aldo.
Aldo moves a piece. "What the fuck is Juden Raus?"
"It means 'Jews Out'," Hans says casually.
Aldo stares at him. "This isn't fun either."
Hans frowns, and sits up. "Well, what is fun to you?"
"Going outside!"
"But it's cold!" Hans cries. "And I promised to your father we wouldn't."
"Come on," groans Aldo. "You're such a goody-two-shoes."
"I know this one!" Hans exclaims proudly. "You're calling me excessively obedient, right?"
Aldo snorts. "I'm glad you're aware, ya psycho."
"But... I suppose there's no harm in going outside," Hans mutters, idly playing with a piece.
"See? Who needs to play whatever this is when you can take in fresh air!"
"You're right. Let's go," Hans drags Aldo by the sleeve of his sweater. Or Hans' sweater, really.
Aldo was about to invite Hans to walk, ask him to show around his neighbourhood or something, but unfortunately for Aldo, the moment they stepped out of the house, Hans immediately started shivering.
"Is your jacket thin or do I have incredibly low tolerance to the cold?"
"It's just fall season for crying out loud," says Aldo.
"N-not helping!" Hans stutters, shuddering.
Aldo was about to call Hans weak, until Hans took him by surprise when he hugs him tightly.
"Is this really necessary?"
"I'm just making you useful," says Hans.
"By hugging me. How sweet," Aldo mocks, ruffling Hans' hair.
Hans hugged him tighter. "You can do that again."
Aldo got quiet for a second, puzzled. "You don't have to answer honestly every time, y'know."
"Aldo, I'm cold," Hans whines. "Carry me inside the house."
"You're a pain in the ass," Aldo mumbles, though it fails to sound cruel. Regardless, he proceeded to carry Hans.
After a few minutes of Hans laying on the couch, in a blanket, asking for hot chocolate from the concerned maids and making exaggerated sneezes to somehow make Aldo guilty, he was as good as before.
Just because Hans started craving for dessert, he persuaded the maids to allow Aldo and him in the kitchen making cupcakes without any help.
"Why did you make the maids go away?" Aldo complains. "Now I'm stuck trying to find out why the batter is too watery."
"I didn't see you putting in any flour," Hans answers.
Aldo clicks his tongue. "Grab the flour then."
"All right, all right."
When Hans came back with the flour, Aldo handed the batter to him.
"How much flour should we put in?" Asks Hans.
Aldo shrugs. "Just follow your gut."
"Don't you have the recipe?"
"What damn recipe?" Aldo snorts.
Hans starts getting concerned. "For the cupcakes? The maid gave you a paper, don't you remember?"
"I can't speak German, I wouldn't know she said it was the recipe."
Hans sighs. "Let's 'follow our guts' ."
The bag of flour was snatched away from Hans, and Aldo says that he 'got it', literally even, before he starts pouring small, tentative amounts of flour. Then he got impatient, so he started pouring much more, and accidently pours the whole bag in.
The flour got on their faces.
"I didn't want to eat cupcakes anyway," Aldo grumbles, placing his hands on his hips.
Hans giggles, wiping off the flour on his own face. He was about to say 'it's fine, your company was enough to compensate' or something similar, until Gauleiter Landa barges in the kitchen, panting.
"Hans, that boy is the son of an American spy!" he shouts, but got quiet once he saw that his own son and Aldo were covered in flour, in each other's clothes.
"Welcome back home, father," Hans smiles, giving a small wave. "Look, I've befriended him!" says Hans proudly, hugging Aldo right in front of his father, and Aldo whispers, hissing, 'now's not really a good time'.
Gauleiter Landa gnashes his teeth. "This is no joke! The Americans are part of the Allies! It's bringing shame to my damned household to have him here!"
Hans pulls away and shrugs innocently, looking at Aldo.