[Austria is in a quiet room by himself, idly plucking at the strings on a lute- Spain's?- as he waits. He's been there for some time, with a servant occasionally checking on him and bringing him things, and frankly he's bored out of his mind. Even so, he's loath to leave the room, because he's not at all sure of his way around and has no desire to explore alone. For months he hasn't set foot in Spain's dominion, attending to affairs in his own house; it's only now that his partner is expected home that he's come to visit, unwilling to wait for Spain to come to him
( ... )
[Austria isn't familiar enough with love yet to put such a name to the pleasant twisting in his stomach or the sudden fluttering of his heartbeat when Spain's attentions are on him, though it seems enough like the romances he has read to be exactly that; in later years he might look back and see it clearly was, but it's easy to do that with hindsight
( ... )
[Their homes are much different from one another, much like Spain and Austria themselves. It's wonderful how they're able to appreciate both in their own ways. Spain enjoys the elegance of Austria's home, appreciates its own unique, graceful and artful beauty. While he abhors the cold of winter, he does adore how it gives him the excuse to always stay close to Austria whenever he can get away with it
( ... )
[Certainly there's a great advantage in ruling two such different lands- they'll always have a nice holiday home, if nothing else. Austria is used to the cold, is often cold to the touch himself, and Spain's natural warmth is always welcome.
Austria glances out of a window, momentarily transfixed by the ocean and its peculiar scent; he's in prime position to be surprised with a kiss, and he makes a small noise before he can stop himself, though it's obviously muffled. There's a pause where he can almost feel himself turning scarlet, but his embarrassment is nothing compared to his desire for this, and before he knows it his arms are wound about Spain's neck, his lips hungry for more. Propriety aside, when he wants something, he rarely holds back.]
[Austria will always be welcome in his arms as a respite against cold or anything else he may want. He'll happily keep his arms around Austria for as long as he wants them.]
[A soft, hungry groan escapes him as Austria returns the kiss, arms coming around the other with tempered passion. Austria's face is red and hot and Spain only comes closer, kissing him deeper. Heat is natural to him and he likes it when his own beloved is warm. His hands soon wander, unable to keep still any longer. They travel up along Austria's slender back, kneading along his nape, his scalp as he returns the others own hunger. It's just them now and with no one around, they can do what they want.]
[Letting out a sound he'd be embarrassed by were he less distracted, Austria presses closer, his heart hammering against his ribs until he's sure Spain can feel it; the hands on his back and in his hair are somehow more sensual than they've any right to be, and he feels as though he might melt away. Though he'd deny it, he missed this kind of passion as much as he missed Spain's more platonic companionship- well, at their age, it isn't surprising...]
[He does feel Austria's thundering heartbeat, though it probably is just his own. Spain isn't quite so sure anymore. They're so close and his body thrills at it. There's nothing quite like having Austria give himself over to him, given his usual reserve and shyness.]
[He soon draws away so they could breathe, but he doesn't go far, peppering heated kisses and loving nips along Austria's elegant jaw and throat. His own breath is fast, loud in the blooming heat between them. There's that urge to carry Austria to the large, ornate bed just a few steps away, but he stays himself with greatly struggling control. He'll do it if Austria allows it.]
[His breath is laboured, his voice a little shaky as he presses his palm to Spain's cheek; it makes for a weak protest. Were he anyone else he would likely have thrown caution to the wind and practically begged to be taken to Spain's bed, but Austria has spent his formative years steeling his self-control for a reason, and he considers it his job to play counterpart to his husband's impulsive behaviour. Even if he'd prefer not to.]
We came here for you to rest, Dummkopf.
[He uses it as Spain uses his pretty endearments, all bite gone from it.]
[He tries to steady his breath and finds himself laughing, unable to help himself after hearing that affectionately delivered insult. Another kiss is pressed against Austria's jaw, then another against his cheek and then a lingering one against his lips before he draws away to behave himself. Spain still keeps a hand on Austria's even as he sighs and gently guides him towards a nearby table where some food has been set up.]
I apologize. I suppose I just missed you that much.
[He'll eat a little of what's been set on the table before he undresses for bed, he decides, looking over the simple, but plentiful dinner someone has thoughtfully placed for him--freshly baked bread, slices of ham, slices of cheese, large grapes and a bottle of wine.]
[Fighting very hard to keep all traces of amusement from his face, Austria ends up with a sort of indignant pout as he follows Spain- how dare he tempt him and then laugh at his rebuke, how dare he- but he's mildly distracted by food.]
I...there's no rush. We have time to- t-to spend together, now. You had better prioritise your rest.
[He pours the wine for them both, though he refrains from also filling Spain's plate like a fretful servant. Instead he helps himself to a little of this and that, picking at small pieces and eyeing Spain like a hawk to make sure he eats properly.]
[He didn't mean to tempt him. He's happy enough to forego a good meal and some rest to do his marital duty, if only Austria would let him. And he couldn't help the amusement. His husband's loving insults have never really worked on him and they're even less effective when they're obviously not that sincere. Plus there's that pout. So adorable.]
[Spain nods obediently to Austria's words, knowing the logic and care in them. He picks up a good portion of meat and bread for himself, smiling and putting choice pieces here and there on Austria's own plate as well under those watchful eyes. A grape is chewed and swallowed before he asks,]
[It is a spouse's prerogative to withhold such things until dinner is taken care of. Much as it pains him.
He clucks his tongue disapprovingly as Spain adds things to his plate, though he eats them anyway, appetite returning in full force; the simple menu Spain's cooks seem to prefer may not be particularly exciting to him, but it's certainly filling. He sips his wine, reminded that he hasn't really given the duration of his stay much thought.]
Long enough, I suppose. I cannot spare more than a month, but I have not yet planned for my return home...tsk, they can manage without me for a little while. I hope. If you can be spared, you can accompany me back, if you wish.
[Spain, for all that he has managed to achieve and gain through the centuries, still prefers simple fare like freshly baked bread and well-cured ham to more sophisticated dishes. He could have easily requested something more exciting, paella perhaps, but he just didn't feel like it right now. Maybe tomorrow, when he feels like treating his staff to an impromptu fiesta. Perhaps even his steward has also taken care of that.]
You don't even need to ask. [Spain smiles to Austria as he watches him eat with him. He likes to make sure Austria eats well, given how he tends to prefer indulging on sweets rather than on real food at times.] I'll accompany you back and stay for as long as I can and as long as you'll have me.
[Despite his complaints about strange flavours and ingredients, Spain's more interesting dishes please the gourmet in Austria, so he certainly won't say no to that. His sweets are real food, how many times must he explain this?! ...But really, it's good that someone watches his nutrition.]
Well...I don't want to keep you too long from your affairs...but...
[But the house is so much more lively when Spain is there, as if he takes the bustling port, pungent spices and colourful people with him. Not to mention, the other inhabitants of the Habsburg's wide-reaching territories like to see him.]
[They'll probably never agree on the point that Austria's preferred sweets are real food. Spain definitely doesn't agree though he's also known to indulge on pastries and the like when he wants to. He'll just make sure Austria is eating a balanced diet when he can.]
They could probably spare me for a month or so, so long as no emergencies come up. [He doesn't want to think about leaving again, so he switches the subject.] How is everyone?
[Letters are always sent to him from most everyone. Romano sends him messy notes filled with complaints and swearing about most everything. Belgium writes him long letters recounting what has been happening with everyone within the household, including Holland who doesn't even think of writing him a single word. Austria's missives are usually brief but informative, reserved but concerned. It's still better to ask Austria to tell his stories face to face.]
[He just doesn't understand the intricacies of Austrian cuisine. One day he'll see the light.]
As long as you think so. Everyone? Ah...as disorderly, disobedient and dysfunctional as ever, except perhaps for Belgien. [She's something of a favourite at his house, considering she's actually pleasant company, unlike some people.] I...am concerned about the Heiliges Römisches Reich...he seems ill at times. But, ah, he is mostly well. It is probably nothing.
[There are long letters filled with domestic tales, sincere endearments and thoughts that Austria would reveal to no one else stashed away in his chambers; he writes them, then edits them, and inevitably sends a short message instead. He has the soul of one who might write love letters, but unfortunately not the confidence nor the sentimental personality. When speaking in person, however, he can talk seemingly forever, but funnily enough most people ask him to stop...]
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Austria glances out of a window, momentarily transfixed by the ocean and its peculiar scent; he's in prime position to be surprised with a kiss, and he makes a small noise before he can stop himself, though it's obviously muffled. There's a pause where he can almost feel himself turning scarlet, but his embarrassment is nothing compared to his desire for this, and before he knows it his arms are wound about Spain's neck, his lips hungry for more. Propriety aside, when he wants something, he rarely holds back.]
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[A soft, hungry groan escapes him as Austria returns the kiss, arms coming around the other with tempered passion. Austria's face is red and hot and Spain only comes closer, kissing him deeper. Heat is natural to him and he likes it when his own beloved is warm. His hands soon wander, unable to keep still any longer. They travel up along Austria's slender back, kneading along his nape, his scalp as he returns the others own hunger. It's just them now and with no one around, they can do what they want.]
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[He soon draws away so they could breathe, but he doesn't go far, peppering heated kisses and loving nips along Austria's elegant jaw and throat. His own breath is fast, loud in the blooming heat between them. There's that urge to carry Austria to the large, ornate bed just a few steps away, but he stays himself with greatly struggling control. He'll do it if Austria allows it.]
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[His breath is laboured, his voice a little shaky as he presses his palm to Spain's cheek; it makes for a weak protest. Were he anyone else he would likely have thrown caution to the wind and practically begged to be taken to Spain's bed, but Austria has spent his formative years steeling his self-control for a reason, and he considers it his job to play counterpart to his husband's impulsive behaviour. Even if he'd prefer not to.]
We came here for you to rest, Dummkopf.
[He uses it as Spain uses his pretty endearments, all bite gone from it.]
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I apologize. I suppose I just missed you that much.
[He'll eat a little of what's been set on the table before he undresses for bed, he decides, looking over the simple, but plentiful dinner someone has thoughtfully placed for him--freshly baked bread, slices of ham, slices of cheese, large grapes and a bottle of wine.]
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I...there's no rush. We have time to- t-to spend together, now. You had better prioritise your rest.
[He pours the wine for them both, though he refrains from also filling Spain's plate like a fretful servant. Instead he helps himself to a little of this and that, picking at small pieces and eyeing Spain like a hawk to make sure he eats properly.]
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[Spain nods obediently to Austria's words, knowing the logic and care in them. He picks up a good portion of meat and bread for himself, smiling and putting choice pieces here and there on Austria's own plate as well under those watchful eyes. A grape is chewed and swallowed before he asks,]
How long will you be here for?
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He clucks his tongue disapprovingly as Spain adds things to his plate, though he eats them anyway, appetite returning in full force; the simple menu Spain's cooks seem to prefer may not be particularly exciting to him, but it's certainly filling. He sips his wine, reminded that he hasn't really given the duration of his stay much thought.]
Long enough, I suppose. I cannot spare more than a month, but I have not yet planned for my return home...tsk, they can manage without me for a little while. I hope. If you can be spared, you can accompany me back, if you wish.
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You don't even need to ask. [Spain smiles to Austria as he watches him eat with him. He likes to make sure Austria eats well, given how he tends to prefer indulging on sweets rather than on real food at times.] I'll accompany you back and stay for as long as I can and as long as you'll have me.
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Well...I don't want to keep you too long from your affairs...but...
[But the house is so much more lively when Spain is there, as if he takes the bustling port, pungent spices and colourful people with him. Not to mention, the other inhabitants of the Habsburg's wide-reaching territories like to see him.]
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They could probably spare me for a month or so, so long as no emergencies come up. [He doesn't want to think about leaving again, so he switches the subject.] How is everyone?
[Letters are always sent to him from most everyone. Romano sends him messy notes filled with complaints and swearing about most everything. Belgium writes him long letters recounting what has been happening with everyone within the household, including Holland who doesn't even think of writing him a single word. Austria's missives are usually brief but informative, reserved but concerned. It's still better to ask Austria to tell his stories face to face.]
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As long as you think so. Everyone? Ah...as disorderly, disobedient and dysfunctional as ever, except perhaps for Belgien. [She's something of a favourite at his house, considering she's actually pleasant company, unlike some people.] I...am concerned about the Heiliges Römisches Reich...he seems ill at times. But, ah, he is mostly well. It is probably nothing.
[There are long letters filled with domestic tales, sincere endearments and thoughts that Austria would reveal to no one else stashed away in his chambers; he writes them, then edits them, and inevitably sends a short message instead. He has the soul of one who might write love letters, but unfortunately not the confidence nor the sentimental personality. When speaking in person, however, he can talk seemingly forever, but funnily enough most people ask him to stop...]
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