TITLE: Groundwork

PART: One-Shot

AUTHOR: Simply Kim

WORD COUNT: 669

CHARACTERS: Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia). Alfred Jones (America). Francis Bonnefoy (France). Mentions of Herakles Karpusi (Greece), Ludwig (Germany) and Arthur Kirkland (England).

GENRE: General.

DISCLAIMER/S: Axis Powers Hetalia is the product of Himaruya Hidekazu-sensei's mind and hard work. This fic is a mere figment of my fancy.

NOTE#1: Blah or Blah is for emphasis. /Blah/is for conversations over the phone or flashbacks (if any). /Blah/ is for the conscience or whatever inner voice there is talking. Blah is for thoughts or random Japanese words.

GROUNDWORK

Gilbert sighed, shaking his head. The repetitive action and the Spartan education that would have made his old acquaintance Herakles proud did nothing to diminish the shameful ineptness being displayed before him.

"You fucking suck." He growled, delivering a well-aimed stinging blow to a very pale and bruised arse.

"Ngh." There was that almost inaudible sound of suffering and a momentary wince. Such things never really tugged at his heartstrings, but this time, seeing the amount of effort being expended onto military arts, it made him feel bad. Just a tiny bit… like a grain of sand small.

He was made to tag along with Von Steuben, to help out and keep an eye on him. If it wasn't old man Fritz and his doe eyes, he wouldn't have said yes. Oh, who was he kidding? They were supposed to be all no-touch, no-go neutral policy, but Old Man Fritz gave him this whole 'Pweeease help them in my stead?' look that he couldn't resist.

Really, you jerk, ever since you were a kid, you've always been troublesome. Why do you keep roping me into unbelievably bizarre situations all the time? I'm too awesome for this. He sighed inwardly. You're lucky, The Awesome Me is very fond of you, or you'd be wallowing in pig slop outside the kingdom right now. Heh.

Truth be told, it made him feel like a babysitter instead of a representative. Because really, even if reputable, the veteran army officer was also one of the kingdom's peculiar personalities. Still, it pleased him going on an adventure outside the borders. He was getting bored of the usual stuff anyway. Maybe that was why the old man prodded him as well – to wake up his sense of adventure. He was getting too domesticated lately.

The only things he missed were spending time with his Germanic friends and pampering his beloved younger brother, Ludwig. Well, he was returning after all this is over anyway. All he needed to do was make sure he drilled basic military knowledge into this country boy's body. Farming is way different than military duty after all.

"You should make him put on clothes, you know." Francis laughed, gazing at them with humour through a glass of red wine. "There's an on-going epidemic, he might catch it."

"No. This is my way." Gilbert frowned with a wry grin. "If you're so concerned over scraps of fucking clothing, you go and train him in my stead."

Francis took a sip of wine. "Nah. I'm just on standby anyway. I'd rather not get my beautiful uniform dirty." He gestured to his pale blue army coat. "Besides, I gave you a ride here. You have no right to order me around."

"Then why the hell are you here? Go away. You're distracting us!" Gilbert snarled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it menacingly at Francis. As usual, the Frenchman didn't even flinch. They really had been friends for too long. They knew each other too well.

A sudden heavy thud intruded on their conversation, prompting them to look at Gilbert's charge. "The fuck are you doing?! Are you giving up? I told you over and over, you're not to stop until –."

"I am not giving up."

Gilbert and Francis exchanged a surprised look.

"I refuse to give up."

"Alfred." Francis started in a more hushed tone. "You…"

Alfred Jones looked up and Gilbert saw an immense fire burning in his eyes. "I will never give up until I get what I want." That was the kind of fire that was difficult to extinguish. For a short while, Gilbert remembered his childhood days in battle. It was not the desire to prove his abilities. It was not the recklessness of youth. It was not the greediness for the glory of war.

It was the fire of the fight for survival.

It started out as a smile and soon it turned into a full-fledged laugh. This man was interesting. He watched Alfred turn back to his training. "When you finish that, I'll teach you how to hold guns and swords properly. You're an idiot, but I'm sure you'd be able to master the basics at least."

"Oy, bearded asshole." He pointed his sword once more to his long-time friend. "Make sure to back this man up when battle comes. Keep him alive. If you don't, I'll make sure to seize your vital regions and make you scream for mercy."

"You don't have to tell me that." Francis drank the rest of his wine in one gulp and dabbed his lips with a clean handkerchief. "You know I'd do anything and everything just to see Eyebrows fall."

"Ha! That damn redcoat Arthur will never know what fucking hit him."

He lashed his crop against Francis' empty wine glass and watched in feral glee as the broken pieces fell to the ground, catching the light of the sun.

They looked like the purest of diamonds.

ENDE

A/N: This is what History Channel does to me. Haha. XD;