It's just pure and simple GerIta (Germany/Ludwig x Northern Italy/Feliciano/Veneziano). This, of course, means it's boy x boy or man x man or yaoi or whatever you wanna call it, and if you don't like that, this probably isn't the story for you. Anyw...
Ludwig had made a mistake. There had been two more letters, each flattering Ludwig more than he deserved, and tomorrow was Sunday, but now he was at work, and he had brought the letters with him...which his secretary would seem to have been reading while he went to the bathroom.
Berwald Oxenstierna was, in some way, an acquaintance of his mother's, and Ludwig had been pleased to have him as his secretary because the Swedish man, with his stern face, looked like Ludwig could actually work with him—like he would not be one of those cheerful, answer the phone with an unnecessary smile, and gossip types. However, Ludwig had realized within a month that he had been wrong. That resting bitch face that so resembled his own was, in fact, hiding one of those cheerful, gossiping types who also happened to have a brutal sense of humor. Ludwig was now constantly being teased by the man because he could not fire him because, in the same amount of time it had taken him to make his real personality known, he had made himself indispensable...and he would tell his mother if he did. So Ludwig could not do without him, and he could not be mad that Herr Oxenstierna had been rifling through his desk again. Except, well, that wouldn't actually stop him.
"What are you doing?!" Ludwig snapped, stomping forward quickly and snatching the letters from his grinning assistant. His accent was showing more badly than usual and his 'v' on the 'what' was particularly vicious.
The Swedish man looked entirely unrepentant. "Aww, does little Ludwig have a boyfriend?" The man's voice was deep, he actually didn't speak much, his stature tall and broad-shouldered, and his smile was more of an almost frown, but his sea-green eyes held the same mirth of that of a schoolgirl. "I wonder what Gilbert will think of this?" he murmured in an off-hand tone, leaning back against Ludwig's desk, while Ludwig struggled to refrain from ripping into the man, knowing he had left the door to his office wide open in his haste to retrieve the letters and anyone could hear. The entire office already had an ongoing inside joke about the two that no one would let him in on as it was.
Verdammt! (Me: "'Verdammt'='dammit.' Wanna learn more German swear words? There's this fantastic video on Youtube <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-bF31SwQFI> that makes you question if the woman speaking is insane. I'mma put the video after this paragraph, okay?") This was awful! Herr Oxenstierna and his brother were gossip buddies and now the teasing over this would extend to his home life, too. No, Ludwig gasped internally—it would extend to every waking moment of his life. Gilbert at least had some love in his heart for Ludwig, some sense of being brothers and not tattling, but Herr Oxenstierna was made of ice—cruel, joyous ice—and would call his mother, too.
(Me: *Stares at you dementedly* "Now you try.")
Why did the Swedish bastard have to somehow be inserted into his family?! He was like a lamp in the living room, the light in the kitchen, the cat that curled up at his mother's feet. The man was everywhere—innocently so, hardly noticeable—a permanent fixture that had everyone's ear without seeming like he did. He was the IKEA in your hometown.
Ludwig narrowed his eyes at him and decided to disengage. This was not a battle he could win upfront, but something to be fought behind the scenes for many years to come. He would redouble his efforts to get on his mother's good side—he would even be nicer to Gilbert—and then one glorious, shining day, there would be no more IKEAs. He sat down at his desk, calculating whether he should order a gift online for his mother now.
"Oh, is that all little Ludwig? Giving up already? Nothing to say about this...Feliciano?"
Ludwig looked up sharply at the sound of the Italian's name on his lips. It was disgusting—he wouldn't stand for this. A brilliant idea suddenly came to him. "No...but I have plenty to say about Herr Väinämoinen." Even though Ludwig was already playing dirty, he didn't have it in him to be the lowest scum of the earth and use Herr Väinämoinen's first name. You see, the Swede was openly homosexual, and he was all about the short, brown-eyed Finnish man (Me: "He's been depicted with blue, purple, and brown eyes. I just went with brown randomly.") whose offices were three floors up in a creepy, mostly non-verbal, stalker-ish way. Ludwig had never realized this was an opportunity for attack—had never even thought of such things until he met the Italian just a few short days ago—but now he realized, without admitting to himself that he thought of Feliciano like that, that he could torment Herr Oxenstierna the same way he tormented him—make him feel the same revulsion at having his love interest's name spoken on another's lips. Ludwig would make him pay.
The Swede glared back at him with those eyes that were the color of the frigid, eutrophic Baltic Sea. (Me: "The term eutrophic has something to do with high nitrogen and phosphorous levels. Sorry, I only did, like, three seconds of research. The image below is an awesome picture—although it would appear to have severely negative environmental implications—dealing with the eutrophication of the Baltic Sea. You can google it if you want.")
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There was a knock at the ajar office door. "Mr. Beilschmidt, Mr. Oxenstierna," one of the female employees called, witnessing the pair's tense standoff with an amused smile, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Oxenstierna your phone is ringing," the Swede glared a moment more and then swept out of the room with a grunt, "And Mr. Beilschmidt," the young woman called before closing the door, "I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."
Ludwig 'humph'ed to himself after she left, and he caught Herr Oxenstierna mocking him with his eyes for the rest of the day from outside his glass-walled office. And when he got home, he leveled a look at his brother that made it clear he would hear no secondhand gossip about the Italian. His mother would be an entirely different matter, but he could put that off until she called.
Me: "I don't know about you, but I really liked this chapter. I thought it was funny and that the whole eutrophication part was cool--not because it's bad for the environment, duh--but because the picture is amazing, and then it seriously is the same color as Sweden's eyes in the anime (excluding the first episode). See you in the next chapter!"
