A/N I wanted the full title to be "How To Succeed In Business When Your Boss Isn't Trying" but it was too long for fanfiction. This story is more of a side project since my other Gertalia story is a complete emofest, so I don't know how often I'll update. At any rate, enjoy and please review. :)

EDIT: Other minor pairings include: fem!Spain/S. Italy, fem!Greece/Japan, fem!Russia/America, and fem!Sweden/Finland.

All was quiet and peaceful in the apartment. A young, blonde woman was sleeping soundly when the clock rolled over from 5:59 to 6:00.

"WOLLT IHR DAS BETT IN FLAMMEN SEHEN!"

The young woman shot up in bed and toppled off, landing on the floor with a painful sounding noise, awoken suddenly by the loud music pouring from her alarm clock.

"WOLLT IHR IN HAUT UND HAAREN UNTERGEHEN!"

"Gilbert!" she growled, slamming her hand down onto her alarm clock and abruptly silencing Till Lindemann. She briefly entertained the idea of beating Gilbert over the head with her alarm clock until he promised to stop setting it to play Rammstein when she woke up, but then sighed in defeat, knowing that no matter how many times she told her irritating older brother to stop he wouldn't. Not to mention that meant going into his room and she really preferred to spare herself the sight. Instead of beating him as she would have liked, she decided to just get up and start brewing coffee. She'd need it that day.

While the coffee brewed, she quickly showered and dressed. She had an interview today, so she put on one of her dress suits, a nice dark green one with a black blouse underneath. Carefully, she combed her short, blonde hair back and pinned it in place. Finally, she picked up her grandfather's Iron Cross and slipped it on. Maybe it would bring her good luck and she would finally get hired and finally earn enough money to afford her own apartment. She was sick of having to share one with her brother.

Exiting her room, she smelled the familiar scent of pancakes. Well, that explained all the noise from last night.

"Good morning, Madeline," she greeted as she entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Liese!" her brother's girlfriend of six months greeted her from the stove, where she was making pancakes. And only wearing one of Gilbert's over-sized T-shirts. "Umm," she blushed darkly. "Sorry about all of the noise last night."

"I'm used to it. Gilbert has always been very noisy," Liese reassured her as she poured herself coffee. Whether it was girls he'd brought home, videos games, or getting drunk with his perverted friends, she didn't think she'd gotten a moment of silence since… well, ever.

"Do you want some of these?" Madeline asked, gesturing toward a pile of finished pancakes. Liese's stomach growled and she gratefully accepted the food. She rather liked Madeline. It had certainly surprised her that her brother actually had a relationship, let alone one that had lasted this long. Madeline had a big sister personality and she and Liese got along well. Not to mention she was a wonderful cook. If there was one thing Liese liked about the nights she spent at their apartment, it was her cooking.

"Another interview today?" Madeline guessed.

"Yes," Liese answered, smearing butter on the pancakes. "And if I can get this one, I'll finally be able to move out." Madeline laughed.

"I feel your pain," she said sympathetically. "I can't wait to get away from Alfred, either. Protective brothers can be so irritating!"

That wasn't the reason Liese wanted to get away from Gilbert's apartment, but she decided that Madeline didn't need to know that. They continued to chat amiably until Gilbert shuffled into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of sweatpants.

"Morning, gorgeous," he greeted Madeline, kissing her deeply, ignoring her squawk of protest and Liese's embarrassed flush. "And Liese," he added as an afterthought. Liese ignored him, instead opting to go over her resume one last time to check for any possible typos. She really needed this job. She didn't think she could take much more of Gilbert's public displays of affection. Or hearing the couple through the walls at night.

"You're never going to get the job looking like that," Gilbert announced, dropping into the chair next to Liese's. She frowned.

"What do you mean?" There wasn't anything wrong with her outfit, was there? It was professional and practical, perfect for a secretary. Gilbert studied her for a moment.

"You don't look sexy enough! Cut thirty centimeters off of the bottom of your skirt and unbutton your shirt!" Gilbert ordered. "And wear a push-up bra!" Madeline smacked her spatula on Gilbert's head.

"What kind of big brother are you? You're not supposed to encourage her to look sexy!" she scolded. Gilbert only smirked.

"Mmm, I love it when you're feisty," he said seductively, causing Madeline to blush deeply and Liese to choke on her coffee. She quickly grabbed her briefcase and headed out the door thirty minutes early.

She was going to get this job if it killed her.

Liese never thought she'd say it, but as she waited for her interview, she started thinking that maybe Gilbert had been right, just this once. All of the other girls waiting were dressed more like Gilbert had suggested. They all wore short skirts, lots of make up, had their shirts unbuttoned to reveal their breasts, and were whispering and pointing at her with their perfectly manicured nails. How could they even expect to type with nails that long? Liese shook her head, trying to distract herself from ridiculous thoughts like that. She just needed to focus on getting this job so she could finally, finally move out of Gilbert's apartment.

Finally, the door opened and the tittering from the other girls stopped. A rather short man entered the room and swept his gaze over them. He had messy, dark brown hair, one lock of hair flying away and sticking out the side of his head. Liese twitched as she fought the urge to smooth it down. The man narrowed his eyes as he appraised all of the girls before he finally stopped at her.

"You," he said, pointing at her. "Get over here."

Liese bristled slightly at the rude tone the man was using, but followed him anyway. She was taller than him, she noted, by at least eight centimeters, but with her heels on, it was more like twelve. They entered a small office and the man sat down behind a desk, on which a name plate sat, reading Romano Vargas. He gestured at the chair in front of the desk and she sat down, quickly retrieving her resume and placing it on the desk before him.

"I don't need that," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'll be frank with you. We've had three secretaries quit just this month alone. I picked you because you actually look like you know what you're doing. You might last here."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Vargas," she replied awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Did this mean she had gotten the job? Mr. Vargas looked a little unpleasant to work with, but it was a paying job and she desperately wanted to get away from her brother.

"That's what they all said," he muttered before standing up and opening the door to the waiting room again. "We don't need any of you," he called out rudely to the other girls, who all looked furiously at Liese, who guessed that she had indeed gotten the job. He looked over at her.

"Don't just sit there. Follow me."

Liese got up quickly and followed him past rows of cubicles and into a small, nondescript antechamber to an office. There was a desk, empty. Mr. Vargas pointed.

"Your desk," he said before he quickly showed her how to use the phone and the Mac sitting on the desk. Liese quickly committed all of the instructions to memory as Mr. Vargas rattled them off, as if he was used to giving these instructions often. Which he did, Liese remembered, seeing as they apparently went through secretaries pretty quickly. She was starting to wonder if there was something majorly wrong with Mr. Vargas. True, he was harsh, but was it really that bad to work with him?

"Okay," Mr. Vargas said after he had showed her the equipment on the desk. He grasped the handle of the door leading to the actual office and Liese assumed he was going to show her any special instructions about the things in his office. Oddly enough, he had a bit of a smile on his face, as if he was were about to watch something extremely entertaining. "And this is who you'll be working for." Liese barely had time to realize that Mr. Vargas apparently wasn't her new boss before the doors were pushed open. She gaped.

"Oi, Feli, this is your new secretary. I don't care what her name is," Mr. Vargas announced to the man who looked almost exactly like him, sitting at the huge mahogany desk and currently making a castle out of playing cards. Mr. Vargas smirked at Liese.

"Have fun."

*The alarm clock is playing Rammstein's "Wollt ihr das Bett in Flammen sehen".

*"Wollt ihr das bett in flammen sehen" means "Do you want to see the bed in flames".

*"Wollt ihr in haut unde haaren untergehen" means "do you want to perish in skin and hair".

*Till Lindemann is the lead singer of Rammstein.

*Thirty centimeters is just short of twelve inches. Liese's skirts are all knee-length, by the way.

*Eight centimeters is just a little over three inches. Twelve is almost five inches.

By the way, this story was inspired by a really good fanart I saw with fem!Germany. Here's the link (remove the spaces):

http : / / gypsypiratequeen . deviantart . com / favourites / # / d 2 krkil