Alliance.doc

That the house is quiet, both astounding and pleasantly so, is the first thing he notices. He waits for noise to erupt any minute, but it doesn't happen, and thus the only sound around are his own steps on the polished floor. It is a building too large for three, even more so for the two souls that remain inside. Where Italy can be, what he must be doing at the time and in whose company should be nothing of his concern, but the annoyance (because it's too much of a trifle to be called an emotion) that surfaces when he spares a thought resembles jealousy so much, and he finds himself slamming a door behind him. The echo is too loud; the house is almost empty.

When he arrives to the kitchen Japan barely acknowledges him with a bow, then returns to prepare the meal, steam clouding the closed windows. The man before his eyes is like a ghost, he could have been absent and Germany wouldn't have noticed, so silent is the way he treads, so calm his demeanor. Germany wishes he could be like him, so that all that he feels could remain forever a mystery, so that he wouldn't feel Japan's eyes unveiling the secrets he guards with much effort. It doesn't occur to him until then that it must be because Japan is older by far, even if his appearance is that of youth.

"Dinner is almost ready," he comments, voice suddenly deep. "Wouldn't you join me, Germany-san?"

He accepts with a nod, a curt agreement at most, and without more invitation than that Japan sets the dishes over the table, elegance in his movements as if they were part of some sort of ritual. Germany wonders if his, if their world is as exotic as Japan's is for him, where every detail would seem important, together a whole myriad of new things to learn. He tries, never ceases to, because he can't accept something less than perfection, but even so his fingers still pick up the chopsticks clumsily, although not more than when Japan speaks German and his own language becomes foreign to Germany's ears.

"Italy-kun shouldn't take much longer," Japan comments at last.

Germany tightens his jaw, says nothing except to reply: "Like I would care." And the small, knowing smile that Japan gives him is too much to bear.

"Italy-kun is so honest, so true to himself," Japan says as if with admiration, and Germany knows the meaning behind his words, thinks of how blunt the Italian can accidentally be, in such an innocent way that any offense is quickly forgiven because it wasn't meant as one. "He would reach like this without a doubt, if he wanted to. Is that what Germany-san thinks?" Japan says and gets close, too close, and his breath is actual warmth against Germany's skin when he says: "Germany-san smells of Italy-kun."

He doesn't know why he carries on, but Japan's small body feeds the pretense that this is another body between his arms, even if Japan's skin is too pale and his frame much slimmer. That east and west fit this easily is the second thing that surprises him, but not more than the revelation that he's about to lay together with someone who longs for Italy too.

Germany wonders if Japan also wants Italy whole.

Other than moans, names are never brought up, and Germany wonders what he'll remember from this evening after it's over, and he realizes that there's something he wants to keep, even if it's only a single detail, like the way Japan's arms quaver against the mattress as Germany thrusts deep. It comes to his mind, as a passing thought, that this is the one he should have fallen for, this quietly fierce, efficient and complex man. But it's Italy and the chaos he represents what really fills his mind, his heart.

When they finish, Japan helps him to change the sheets in awkward silence, and very soon everything is tidy once more, in order.

"Perhaps you should let him know. Otherwise, Italy-kun might never find out on his own what you feel," Japan says before wishing him a good night and turn around the corner.

When Italy returns, Germany's bedroom door is locked because he won't allow Italy to slip under his covers as he babbles about his date. Germany forgives him, because Italy doesn't know, because he can never let Italy know that he's in love with him when there are more important matters to care about, such as war. And in the silence of the night, as he hears Italy's steps retreating to his own room, he founds odd to look around and feel it's almost as if Japan had never been there.