The Blindfolded Dancer (ThirdUnion) (Back?)

Chapter Four

[During the Festivities]
[Third Person]

Reich sat on one of the balconies, listening to the happy chatter from the event attendants below. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Germany was having a blast. He smiled softly, messing with a small glass of alcohol that rested on the small end table next to him. He hadn't touched it. He loved hosting these events, yet he trusted no one.

He heard Germany laugh in the crowd and pushed the drink away, preparing to stand until an all too familiar and infuriating set of footsteps could be heard coming up behind him. Britain sat down in the chair opposite of him, setting a tray of tea down without bothering to ask if he was welcome.

Reich huffed, crossing one leg over the other and leaning against the chair he sat in. "What do you want Britain." He snapped. This was not how he wanted to spend his evening. Britain chuckled quietly. "You seem tense. Tea?" He offered him a cup, which was brushed away. "Why would I drink anything you give me?" He hissed, head turned away from him. Britain chuckled again. "Oh please. If I killed you, who would I ally with?" His voice was quiet, calm. It made Reich tense. He didn't like this one bit. He found himself almost missing Soviet at this moment.

He shook those thoughts off, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. Britain got the point, but he didn't care. "My my busy are we?" Britain was being sarcastic. Reich's head snapped in his direction. "Fick Dich." He spat, earning a laugh from Britain. "So rude. I only want to chat." He responded pleasantly, making Reich uncomfortable.

Another all too familiar set of footsteps thundered up the steps, and for once, Reich was relieved to hear them. Soviet rounded the corner, glaring down at Britain. Britain glared back, arms crossed. "And what are you doing here you big brute?" He snapped, earning a snort from Soviet and an eyeroll. "I was watching from downstairs. You're obviously making him uncomfortable." He snapped back, furious.

Reich simply went back to messing with the glass on the side table, letting them argue for a moment before speaking. "How about you both leave me alone, hm?" He was annoyed, and now he had a headache. Soviet sighed, then he noticed something. "You're wearing the earrings I gave you earlier-?" Reich froze. He had almost forgotten putting them on. "Perhaps I am. What does it matter?" He snapped, turning his head in the sound of Soviet's heartbeats general direction.

Soviet was at a loss for words, and rather pleased. "They look nice." He said it with such kindness it made Reich want to vomit. "Oh please. You're just saying that because you want me to be your wife. Now both of you fuck off." He snapped, shooing them both out.

Britain huffed, leaving the tea he had brought. "I'll be back." He snapped, stalking off. Now only Soviet remained. Reich flopped back into the chair, stretching his wings gently. "How about I propose a deal." He spoke after awhile, catching Soviet's attention. "Hm? Go ahead." He was curious, sitting down in the seat Britain had been in awhile ago.

Reich sat there for a moment before crossing his arms again. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "You help me deal with Britain tonight, and I'll let you bring your god forsaken children over tomorrow." He spoke quietly, but Soviet's ears caught it. He was confused. "I thought you didn't like my kids-?" He trailed off, blinking.

Reich sighed. "I don't, but Germany would be happy to see them. He doesn't find many teens his age anymore. None he gets along with at least.." He muttered the last half more to himself, messing with the glass on the table once again.

Soviet thought for a moment before nodding, unseen. "Alright. But you know you don't have to torture yourself to sit through my children's bickering-" He was cut off by an agitated Reich. "Don't make me change my fucking mind-! You really haven't changed have you?!" He snapped. This was so like Soviet. Trying to make him change his mind.

Soviet realized this, of course, and shut up. After awhile of silence he popped a question. "Would you like to dance..?" He asked it quietly, watching Reich rub his temples. His fingers paused, and he thought for a moment. Finally, he nodded, holding a hand out. "Fine. But don't get used to this." Soviet smiled, helping him to his feet and leading him to the main floor.

They danced for hours, surprisingly. The other people in the room watched in awe as they twirled around the room, and Germany was smiling the whole time. After awhile, Reich needed something to drink, and Soviet led him off the floor to grab something for them to drink. This was the happiest he had been in ages.

Reich was rather enjoying himself. He had forgotten how good of a dancer Soviet was. This didn't mean anything, of course, but he was pleased to have an experienced dance partner. Soviet brought them both back a glass of some unknown liquid, and as soon as Reich tasted it he burst into a fit of coughing. "Vodka? Really?? " He snapped, earning a laugh from Soviet. "Still can't handle it huh? I'll go get you something else then." He took the glass from Reich, heading back for a different drink.

Reich stood there for a moment, coughing a bit more before getting ahold of himself. Germany came over, beaming. "You seem to be enjoying yourself Mutter!" He was pleased, and Reich smiled at his tone. "Mn. I forgot just how much experience Soviet had on the dance floor." He shook it off, smiling at his son. Germany smiled back, although it wasn't seen, Reich knew he was smiling.

Soviet came back soon after, holding a glass of beer in one hand, and a glass of Vodka in the other. He found the mother and son pair chatting, and Reich's head turned in his direction. "What did you bring me now hm?" He couldn't possibly be upset right now. He was having too much fun. He handed him the glass. "Beer. That's what you drink, yes?" He questioned, earning a nod.

They sipped their drinks as Germany went back to the dancefloor, giving them time to talk. "Those earrings really look good on you. I mean it." Soviet said after awhile, sipping his Vodka. Reich tensed for a moment before laughing it off. "Yeah yeah don't flatter me Sowjet. It gets you nowhere." He was teasing him, and Soviet teased right back. "Oh please. Flattery never works on you." He rolled his eyes and Reich laughed again.

Soon enough, the festivities ended, and Soviet stuck around. "So, where do you want me to wait?" He questioned, looking down at Reich. The winged male thought for a moment. "Mm... you should probably stay in here. It has a clear shot to the hall." He nodded to himself before turning to Soviet. "That work for you?" He questioned, and Soviet hummed in response.

Time to catch us a British bitch.