A/N: Was in the mood for some AusHun...

Hungary skidded to a halt just as she reached a hall that diverged in two directions. Panting and red-faced, heart-thrumming with excitement, she shot down one hall, bare feet slapping quietly against the cold floor. She heard shoes echoing quickly after her, knew her pursuer was catching up. She skidded to a stop once more, trying not to scream-laugh in a mild panic because she knew if she didn't think quickly, she'd be caught. She turned in a circle twice, quickly taking in her surroundings. She knew immediately where she was.

Damn.

She ran as fast as she could as quietly as she could down the hall hardly used anymore but not necessarily forbidden to her or anyone, and she chose a random room towards the end of the left side. Only mildly surprised the door wasn't locked, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She glanced around the room, more or less clean.

She chose to hide in the large wardrobe. She pushed the clothes aside, curling into the tiniest ball she could manage and covered her mouth and nose with her hands to try and stifle her breathing. Several moments passed by in a sort of still silence. She waited a few more moments, and as soon as she was ready to uncurl herself and leave the wardrobe, she heard slow footsteps coming down the hall.

She heard a door creak open – not the door to this room – and close a few moments later. This was repeated several times with several rooms, but never the doors to this room. She held her breath, however, when a pair of feet stopped just a few feet away from the room. She heard a tired sigh, heavy breathing, and – aha! – a sigh of defeat.

"Uh, Hungary! I'm exhausted. You win!" It was usually odd to hear Austria raise his voice when he wasn't singing or scolding someone, but it was a nice change nonetheless. She liked it. It sometimes reminded her of times when he'd give out commands in war, or take charge in a meeting when he really needed to.

She snickered-giggled, imagining him in the good old days when his uniforms were fancy and gorgeous and downright sexy. With a bit of trouble – ow ow ow, numb legs, numb legs! – she tried to escape the confines of the wardrobe, fighting off clothes and material until they finally released and dumped her onto the floor, spilling her onto her back. She gasped and laughed until her sides hurt, and when she calmed down enough to open her eyes, Austria was bent over her with a faintly amused expression.

He was more red-faced than she was and still breathing hard. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and his hairline and forehead was shining with a faint sheen of sweat. His hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled, probably damp. His heart was probably only just slowing down now that the game was over.

Oh yeah. Sex later. Definitely.

"Did you have fun?" He asked with a huff.

"You had fun, too, don't act like you didn't!" Hungary giggled, accepting his hand to help her up. She stumbled, legs feeling a bit like jelly and tingling back to life. She beamed at him and he smiled softly. "And I won a war with a wardrobe to boot. I'd say it was a successful day." She said, pointing to the wardrobe. And did a double take.

She'd thought her enemy had been old dress shirts and trousers and coats. That was not the case. Bursting out the open door like weeds were vintage dresses of various sizes and colors and they were stunning. She had the sudden urge to play dress up. Or run around outside in one and destroy it just because she could.

"My dear, what are all these dresses?" She exclaimed, going over and pulling a dress out. It was a pretty chocolate brown, huge and heavy (goodness, she'd forgotten how heavy these were back then).

"Just… old dresses." Austria said. He sounded almost guilty, but that was perhaps Hungary mishearing. She wasn't really paying attention. She busied herself with taking out all of the dresses, quickly inspecting each one. They weren't just large, but a size or so too big. They wouldn't fit her, unfortunately, though she could perhaps commission a tailor to resize one or two for her.

"Why would you have these old dresses just cooped up in here? They're beautiful!"

"I, ah, suppose. Yes." And this time Hungary did turn her attention back onto him, because Austria definitely sounded guilty, as if grudging himself for admitting that fact. Her mischievous senses tingled, and with an impish grin she sidled up to him, dress in hand.

"Hmm? Why are they here; why do you still have them; what are they for?" She sang, nudging him, energy suddenly restored.

"I think they were a… gift. To or from someone, I can't recall."

"A gift for you?" Hungary grinned. Austria paled and made the mistake of looking away for a moment. Had she been wrong, he would have blushed and huffed, perhaps glared at her considering what she was insinuating with a mere joke. She laughed mentally in triumph, because she was right! Even though she'd only been teasing, she was right!

"… Yes."

"From who? Why?"

Austria rolled his eyes to the ceiling, as if begging-praying for mercy. "They were a gift. For winning a war. From Prussia…"

Hungary couldn't contain her laughter. So that's why they were big! But looking at the dresses, Hungary had to admit Prussia did a good job on them. With a gasp that came out more like a squeak, Hungary widened her eyes, sucked in her lips, and grinned broadly, staring at Austria. He stared blankly back.

"You want me to put it on don't you?"

"Please!"

"Is this another kink of yours? Because you used to crossdress?"

"… Does it count as crossdressing if I didn't know I was crossdressing?"

"Yes. And no."

"Wear it!"

"I said no."

"But I want you to wear it! Please." Childishly, she dragged out the word.

"Nein."

There was a sudden, thick silence where the two just stared at each other, holding their breaths. Austria glanced at the door. Hungary's hands tightened on the dress. They both took deep breaths. For a split second, Hungary saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and it made Hungary's chest clench in painful glee.

Austria darted out the door, quicker than Hungary expected and he thus had the chance to shut the door on her, giving him a small lead. She fumbled with the door, laughing like mad, and once she threw it open she launched herself out too quickly to catch her footing so she ended up tripping over herself and the dress, crashing into the opposite wall. It hurt her shoulder, but she only laughed harder.

And then she was chasing down her husband.

She made a mental note to thank Prussia the next time she saw him.

She'd keep the pictures for herself.

A/N: This is based on a headcanon my friend (brunnettewannabe49643; they have their own account on here so please go check them out!) and I share due to an RP of ours. I won't say much on that, but basically, due to circumstances, Elizaveta assumes Roderich cross-dresses. And, that's all you need to know, really. :P