A/N: glad you guys liked the last chapter. B3 now on to the next! Sorry I like dropped off the face of the earth. Life crushed my muse with a bunch of work, but I've nursed him back to health! :D

There's going to be an entire conversation in German here, and I don't feel like translating all of that, so when you see a whole portion of dialogue in italics, you're there.

And, apparently, I'm now the Germania of my little Hetalia group, so... yeah.

~Germania

...

The next night was quaint for Ludwig and Gilbert. Claus and Kurt decided to use the latter as a pillow while the two brothers lounged in the living room. Raven was off somewhere, as usual, probably sleeping. A pair of red eyes was stuck to American Idol, and a blue one was halfway through an old WWI book when the doorbell rang.

"You're boyfriend's here," Ludwig said, eyes never leaving the page.

"I don't... think... he's my boyfriend... yet," Gilbert grunted, trying to shove Kurt up off of his chest, but gave up quickly. "Can you get it? He's getting fat."

"Stop feeding him extra meals." but he sat his book down anyway, and got up off the couch. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes and straightened out his shirt, just because it wouldn't hurt to make a good impression on Gilbert's date.

There was no way he could've been prepared for who met him in the doorway, though.

Meticulously kept hair, black as the night sky behind him, with one curl that wouldn't ever lay with the rest of it. Lavender eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses. Tiny little mole, below his lip on the left side. Nose thirty feet high.

Fich.

Roderich Edelstein, his ex from fucking college, was dating his brother.

Ludwig's face fell completely blank, as opposed to the twist in the bespectacled man's brow. Roderich had actually opened his mouth to say something, expression still confused and extremely awkward, when Gilbert's footsteps announced his coming up behind his brother.

"So, now you've met Rod -" He broke off, eyes flicking between Ludwig and Roderich, taking in the tense situation. "What just happened?"

"We've met," the Austrian deadpanned, violet eyes never leaving Ludwig's face. "Are you going to let me in?"

The German did, and with a disgusted little sound he turned and disappeared down the hallway. Gilbert didn't see it, but he heard the door to his brother's room slam shut. That was when Claus and Kurt rushed up, growling at whoever dared invade their territory, and surrounded Roderich, noses twitching hurriedly against his clothes and shoes.

"They think they're the guard dogs," Gilbert tried to joke, but it was half assed; his mind was on his brother at the moment. The blonde was easily pissed off, that much was certain, but that was much more than his normal level of pissed-off-ness. What had happened?

"I see," Rod smiled, looking down as the dogs finally deemed him clear to stay and settled down at his feet. "Shall we be leaving soon? Movie starts at nine."

Gilbert looked back down the hall, brows knitted. "Yeah... I'll be right back."

Ludwig lay back on his bed, massaged his temples, let out a sigh because that really sucked. He hadn't ever wanted to see that stuck-up asshole again after college, but here was, at his damn door. There was no reason for him to try to break he and Gilbert up, however; maybe they would be able to stand each other. It would be good to see him happy, especially after that Russian he'd dated a few years ago...

The door opened, "Westen?" and closed.

"Was, Gilbert."

"Are you alright?"

Ludwig looked down the bed at his brother. "Ja, I'll be fine. Go on your date."

"You act like you hate him. What happened?"

"Leave it alone, Gil," the blonde groaned.

But Gilbert was undeterred, coming over to sit next to his brother. "Tell."

"You do realize he speaks German, too." Ludwig said flatly, "If he's standing outside he'll understand everything."

"Don't care, just talk." the elder threw right back.

With a sigh Ludwig began, "Do you remember that semester my junior year when my grades dropped?"

"Ja, I think you were more upset than Dad was, kesese~"

"I'm being serious, just listen," the younger growled, and Gilbert's laughter fell silent. "And, since you said that, you remember how important my grades were to me."

"Yeah, yeah, you nearly died when you got a D on a report card. What does this have to do with Rod?"

Ludwig punched him this time. "Shut up, stop getting ahead of me."

"Fine, fine," the albino put his hands up in mock surrender, "Keep going, I won't jump in."

"You better not. Now, that all happened after Roderich and I had dated and broken up."

"What, you were so heartbroken that you stopped caring about your degree? That's not healthy."

"I know it isn't, and that's not even what happened. I broke up with him, first of all." Gilbert's brow rose, a silent why? "He was kind of possessive, wanted to be involved with every part of my life. It was really creepy. But three, maybe four weeks after that, my papers started disappearing off of my laptop; days and days of work just... gone."

"How are you so convinced it was him? He didn't have access to your papers, did he?"

"Gil, he was my roommate. And he never did take rejection very well, so don't leave him."

Gilbert turned to him, surprised. "You want me to stay with him?"

"If he makes you happy, then yes," he shrugged, "Sure, he pisses me off, but there's no reason you shouldn't give him a shot."

"I thought you said he was creepy."

"He is, but you aren't writing any papers for him to destroy, so you should be fine." Ludwig smiled.

"Arschloch," the elder growled, grinning as he punched his younger brother in the chest. "Are you sure? I'd hate to do this if it bothers you."

"Get out," the German commanded, switching back to English and sitting up to push Gilbert off of his bed. "I'll sick Raven on you if you don't leave right now, I swear."

"Okay, okay, kese~" Gil stood up, grinning ear to ear, and landed one more punch to his brother's chest before leaving the room.

Ludwig waited for him to leave before shouting out of the open doorway, "Don't make me beat you up in front of your boyfriend!"

"You wish!" and the front door closed.

Finally. Peace and quiet.

The thought of calling Arthur crossed his mind, but he thought better of it; it was a Saturday night, he was probably working. Besides, he'd see the Brit in the morning to work on his car.

So he sat back on the couch, turned off the TV, and picked up his book.

...

Arthur did not want to get up.

He'd had five clients last night - Feliks, Mathias, Romano, Saadiq, and Ivan. The (rather flaming) Pole had simply asked a blowjob of him, but the Russian had tied him up and fucked him hard. Honestly, the varying extremes were giving him whiplash.

His throat was sore and his ass hurt like hell.

He turned over in bed, curling in on himself, and let out a tiny little sob. Why couldn't all his clients be like... like Ludwig? He seemed to care a little, at least; it was like he appreciated Arthur for more than his ass. Other clients fucked him and left him; Lud actually let him enjoy the sex. It was something he hadn't experienced in a while – the first time he saw it as anything more than his job. He really hoped they could see each other agai –

… What was he doing?

He knew better than to get emotionally attached to a client, he promised himself he wouldn't. Ever. It was bad for business, bad for himself, bad for Lud. Honestly, who would want to date a hooker? That was why he didn't date in the first place; it was too painful a process for him to endure.

Speaking of which... Lud would be coming over later to fix his car.

And he was looking forward to it much more than he should've been.

With a low groan he lurched over the edge of the bed, landing haphazardly on his feet, and shuffled across the carpeted floor. The walk from his room to the bathroom - just down the hall - was murder on his abused nether regions. It took some time and a lot of effort, but he drew himself a warm bath and sank into it with a highly gratified sigh.

It was a long time before he realized that the water had gone cold. The tips of his fingers were doing a rather fantastic impression of a raisin, and his toes were beginning to follow suit. On a lighter note, the pain had receded a little, so it didn't hurt so much to move…

But his throat still hurt.

Great.

…

When Ludwig knocked on Arthur's front door he was greeted with such a dense silence that he thought the Brit may have forgotten him, or was still sleeping. He was actually about to turn and leave when the bolt thunked and there was a slight creak as the door opened.

"Hey, Lud," England croaked, leaning against the door. There were dark lines below his eyes, making the green appear much more dull than usual, and in his left hand was a cup of what Ludwig figured was tea. The escort smiled a tiny, weary smile, and had tried to sound cheerful in his greeting, but the sandpaper tone of his voice ruined it.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig had to ask; the Arthur in front of him wasn't the Arthur that rode his lap a few nights prior, or the Arthur that he'd flirted with on the phone, or even the Arthur that had kissed him in the kitchen, drunk out of his mind.

But this Arthur nodded. "Weekends are the bane of my existence."

"Do you want me to come back later, or…?" he began, but a shake of the blonde head in front of him led him to trail off uncertainly.

"No, I'm perfectly fine, don't worry about me," Arthur dismissed roughly, cleared his throat, "I just need a few dozen cough drops. Do you want to come in?"

Ludwig stepped inside the house that was now sort of familiar to him, taking off his shoes at the door and following the Brit to the couch. He'd set up a comfortable little environment for himself there, it seemed; there was a haphazard pile of blankets on it, obviously where he'd been laying, drinking his tea and watching TV. And the German didn't want to ruin his calm, so he sat in the chair adjacent to it.

"So what happened to you?" Ludwig asked, blonde brows pinched slightly, chin resting on his palm.

Arthur took another long sip of tea before staring at the taller blonde evenly. "I... earned a lot yesterday."

With a nod of understanding the blue eyed man stood up and started toward the door. "If you need to sleep, go ahead. I'll work on your car."

"Thanks," and that was a smile, a genuine Arthur smile, undiluted and completely pleased.

He really wanted to see those more often.

...

"Arthur." shakeshakeshake. "Arthur."

"Hnn...?"

"I need your keys."

"Bowl..." he slung a lazy arm in the direction of a shelf beside the front door.

"Danke." The presence that had been beside him disappeared, there was a little jingle and a door shut. Arthur brought his arm back under the covers and returned to warm, fuzzy darkness.

…

Arthur sat up, rubbing the bleariness out of one eye with the knuckles of his forefinger, and opened his mouth in a huge yawn. The lack of light streaming in between the open curtains informed him of the late hour, though he didn't much care how late, and the TV was still murmuring quietly in the background.

He hadn't felt so well-rested in weeks.

A feeling akin to gratitude brought a lazy smile to his lips, and he took a deep breath before lurching off the couch. His legs were numb, so his steps wobbled a little until the blood decided to return to them. His white shirt was crumpled up from his deep slumber, pinched and stuck in places, but he didn't really care; instead he stumbled over to the door and opened it, expecting to see Lud standing there next to his car with a self-satisfied grin on his face, maybe a few smudges of dark oil on his t-shirt and jeans and skin.

But there was no Lud.

And no car.

Ludwig stole his damned car!

Why the hell had he trusted that wanker? Mechanic or not, he'd only known the other blonde for a few weeks, and it wasn't like they were seeing each other all the time. Half the time the German's cock had been involved! How stupid could he have been, of course the pillock was only out for his car, he probably just fixed it up so he could take it and Arthur would never see him again! What the bloody hell had h –

His irate thoughts were interrupted when the very man he was fuming over drove the car – his goddamned car – into the driveway. Ludwig got out, straight, white teeth showing in a smile, and patted the top of his Mini Cooper. "Told you I could do it."

"Don't you 'told you' me!" he yelled, stomping down the stairs to the driveway and getting right in his face, totally disregarding the height difference. "What were you planning on doing with my car, hm? Were you going to sell it? Maybe keep it for yourself? Take it apart and sell the pieces?"

The German resisted the urge to yell back in indignation, settled for raising his brow instead. He took advantage of the pause in the Brit's tantrum and held up a finger, guiding him to just shut up for a second, and went around to the other side, opening the passenger door and picking up the bags of Chinese food. When he showed what he had been doing, taking care to keep his mouth closed, Arthur's expression melted into one of guilt or regret or slight sheepishness, probably a combination of the three.

"Oh."

"You thought I stole your car." it wasn't even a question, and Arthur couldn't tell if that was a twinge of hurt in his voice or not.

"…I'm sorry," he finally sighed, rubbing nervously at the back of his head, "I overreacted, it's just… I have a knack for losing my things."

"It's fine, I would've been worried about that, too." Ludwig shrugged and started up the stairs to the front door. "You were asleep, and I figured you would be hungry after working all night and sleeping all day, and who doesn't like Chinese?"

"True," England smiled, and they went back into his house. Within the space of ten minutes they had integrated the German into his living space; the tea setting had been replaced by an expanse of paper bags and little white boxes and they were practically leaning on each other as they ate lo mein and watched random shows on television. Arthur still had the sheets tangled around his legs since it was a little chilly and he was only in his boxers and a tee, but Lud was comfortable in his cargo pants and black tank.

When his box finally emptied Arthur put it down on the coffee table and sighed, leaning against Ludwig's side. "How much do I owe you?" he asked, opening one eye.

"On the house."

The Brit blinked. "Come again?"

"You don't owe me anything," Ludwig reiterated, looking down at the other blonde. "I just did something nice for you."

"And then you bought me food," he pressed, feeling a little like a freeloader. He wanted to pay him something.

But Lud wove his way around that one, too, picking listlessly at his noodles with the chopsticks. "I bought us food."

"You really don't want me to pay you anything? At all?" Arthur was genuinely confused; he'd always had to earn his 'gifts', his occupation besides. It was an odd feeling for him.

"Nein, not really…" he looked up thoughtfully, then smiled a little. "Well, there's one thing."

The escort didn't know if he was relieved or annoyed. If Lud wanted a blowjob or sex or anything of the sort he swore he'd rip his hair out. The German knew what kind of Saturday he'd had; he really hoped that wasn't his request. But it turned out he was jumping to conclusions because before he could even process what was going on Ludwig had leaned over and kissed him.

He wanted to back away. He really did. This wasn't good, he couldn't kiss Ludwig because he was a client, he couldn't want this, this was bad, but… But he did want it, and he did kiss back because this wasn't just some client – it was Lud. Lud who cared and understood and put up with him while he was drunk and he deserved a kiss while he was sober, right? So his eyes fell shut and he opened his mouth to the warm thickness of the German's tongue, letting the slide of wet muscles take over his body with delicious heat. Ludwig smiled a little, he could feel it, and turned his British companion so it would be easier to delve deeper into the warm cavity of his mouth.

And it felt good, because this wasn't Ludwig kissing England, this was Ludwig kissing Arthur. He didn't have that used feeling he usually got when he was with someone, it was someone genuinely wanting to be in his company. His arms wound up around the German's shoulders, pulling him closer, and he was forced to swallow his moan when blunt fingers hit that spot on the back of his neck. This wasn't a sexual thing, it wasn't supposed to be; he was just happy to be wanted.

But nearly three years of working as an escort made him a little oversensitive, soon enough he had a warm lump in his boxers.

And when Ludwig leaned over him, putting him on his back on the couch, his knee brushed said lump and Arthur couldn't contain his gasp. The German chuckled, a humming, low sound, and his knee pressed lightly into the smaller blonde's groin.

"Lud," he whispered-growled-moaned into the kiss, hips arching against that pressure. He wasn't sure if it was against his will or not.

And that disturbed him.

This was bad, he didn't date, remember? This kiss shouldn't be happening; Ludwig really needed to stop kissing him so he could think straight, dammit!

When he did, a few moments later, Arthur didn't know whether to be disappointed or not.

He was faced with the same issue when Lud slid down his body, settling between his thighs.

"Is this okay?" the German asked, head tipped against his inner thigh, careful blue eyes meeting his green.

Is it? he had to ask himself, unsure. But he deserved it, and this had no emotional implications whatsoever, right? So he smiled a little smile and nodded.

Ludwig lowered his head, eyes still locked on Arthur's face, and nipped lightly at the base of his cock through his boxers. The way the Brit's face pinched - just a little bit - and that tiny gasp made him smile; a trail of lips and teeth made their way up the swollen underside of his shaft, up to the bulge of the head just barely cresting the waistband of his underwear. He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled, slowly, ensuring that the fabric brushed against everything it could just because he wanted to hear that adorable little whine force its way up his throat. But when the erection rolled forward, thick and heavy, he spared no time in taking it into one hand and stroking it slowly.

Arthur sighed, biting his lip, and lay back on the couch. It was great to have someone else's hands on him, not seeking their own pleasure but for his. Ludwig's thumb swirled roughly over the head and he gasped, legs wanting to spread but unable to since his boxers were around his knees. And then there were lips, slightly chapped lips that pressed against the hot skin and parted, yielding to an even hotter tongue that left a wet trail up the length. Lud was teasing him, he realized, lapping at his cock with playful little kitten strokes, but once one crested the rise of his head his mouth sank down over the warm flesh and all Arthur could think was hotwetmouthfuckYES.

His hand slid into blonde hair, disheveling it a little with his desperate grasp, and he started pushing Lud's head down some because he needed more. The German's head bobbed faithfully, the pressure perfect and the barely-there scrape of teeth just bloody amazing. But it still wasn't enough; his fingers tightened their grip, trying to get the other blonde to stay the hell still as his hips lifted, seeking out more of that warm mouth for himself.

And Ludwig let him, because he figured Arthur might need this, someone willing to give him something instead of take it from him. He didn't mind being that person. In fact, he wanted to be that person, the one Arthur could count on not to hurt him, the one he could trust. He had to earn it, though, and he knew that; it would be effort well spent.

But it was hard to breathe around the Brit's girth so he pushed down on slim hips, having his own stay-the-fuck-still moment and pulling away to cough awkwardly at the tickle in the back of his throat. There was a needy little quaver in Arthur's sigh.

"Please," he breathed, feeling vulnerable and open and a little scared because of it. It shouldn't have been okay that he wasn't afraid Lud would exploit that. But it was hard to even think about that right now; he was too preoccupied with don'tstopnowplease. So when Lud returned to his task, eyes closing in concentration, Arthur had to try really hard to figure out what made him shudder so hard.

It was his tongue - no, wait, it was how his mouth flexed... maybe the way he used his teeth...

Or it was how he did all those things; like he was swallowing around a lover.

Fuck.

The pleasure took a back seat as he bit his lip, throwing his arm across his eyes as moisture began to gather there. This was not fair, for Lud to do this to him when he knew he couldn't have this. Rough, hard, emotionless sex he was fine with, and even the softer actions of a few clients were okay; the point was, he was used to being used. This was completely backwards.

It was the worst part - that, apparently, he cared for Arthur a little when Arthur couldn't afford to have anyone care for him. It was bad for him, bad for business, remember? He couldn't do what he did with emotional attachments.

Well, it was a little late for that, wasn't it?

And by the time he grated out a stop he was coming thickly down Ludwig's throat.

When he could finally breathe, could finally think, he released his tight hold in the other blonde's hair, swiping at the tears on his face in frustration. His chest was still heaving, but not because of the orgasm; he was looking at Ludwig's face when he sat up between the Brit's legs, eyes wide and threatening to spill over again.

Lud frowned, "Arthur?" and placed a soft hand on Arthur's knee.

He flinched away from the touch, panic sinking deep into his bones.

"Arthur... Arthur," the third time was something between a growl and a shriek, steeped with concern once he realized Arthur was hyperventilating. He took hold of the escort's hand, pulling him upright and pressing his head down between his knees.

"Just breathe, Arthur, slow, deep breaths… come on, calm down…" Ludwig's patient words cut through the haze of hysteria as his fingers knotted in the hair at the back of his head, chest heaving and compressing slower and slower as he took in large gulps of air. He squeezed his eyes shut, yanking half-heartedly at his hair because God damn it he was crying again and this wasn't fair…

The German stroked the top of his head softly, long fingers gliding over Arthur's. "Better?"

The Brit nodded wearily, not bothering to wipe away the tears as they rolled down his cheeks. He didn't attempt to sit back up, either.

"What happened?"

Arthur sat still for a few moments, trying to decide how much he was going to tell him, how much it would hurt them both, whether he should tell him at all… and then he thought Screw it and sat up, wiping the tears away with the heel of his hand. There was a humorless smile on his face – for what, he didn't know – and when he peered through his wet eyelashes the German was frowning.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, leaning in to kiss a tear-tracked cheek.

He ended up kissing a palm instead, and backed away, confused.

"No, you didn't, not necessarily," the escort murmured, still rubbing at his red eyes, "I think I'm the one who's done wrong."

Ludwig just looked at him, blue eyes pleading to understand, and Arthur thought he kind of looked like a puppy like that.

So he took a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. "I don't think this was a good idea."

"This?"

"This," Arthur gestured between the two of them, trying to articulate whatever kind of relationship it was that they had unwittingly set up. "I know you've done some nice things for me lately, and I'm perfectly willing to pay you back, but I don't think we should see each other again."

The larger blonde's brows twitched just a little and he opened his mouth to say something, but the Brit cut him to it. "At all."

"… Why?"

And that was the question of the century, wasn't it? "Because you're a distraction for me. I can't work with you on my mind."

"I'm on your mind?" damn that smirk. Damn it to hell.

"That's not the point," he growled, trying not to make this as upsetting as he hoped it wouldn't be. "I don't want to see you again."

And it must have sunk in, if his expression was anything to go by. The smirk melted into a frown, and the patch of skin between his eyes and brows tightened. "I see."

"Good." Arthur said, and that was it; he couldn't look at him anymore, not with that expression. As he turned away Ludwig got up to leave, picking up his empty boxes and tossing them in the trash can on the other side of the room before leaving.

He didn't even stop to say goodbye… but why would he have?

If this was so good for him, why did it hurt so much?

…

A/N: Augh, I can't even tell you guys how long it took to write this. Like, three weeks of on-and-off and writer's block ad other stories and *huff* I promise I'll be back on schedule soon. Next chapter includes more angst and brotherly bonding… Speaking of, I have to apologize for the whole first third of this; it seemed to make sense at the time…

~Dawn is Br3aking.