Chapter Text
31st December 2017 - Berlin, Germany.
Hosting the new years party for country representatives was always a difficult, if not interesting task. Everything was organised to the letter, Ludwig had gathered a wide selection of party foods and drinks with each country in mind, knowing should he miss a single detail, all hell would break loose. The venue was equally important, large enough to fit all the reps as they mingled and enjoyed themselves. He knew no party he could throw would match the lively air of America’s party the year before, but he felt something laid back would be preferable.
And so, with his third checklist gone through, waiters to their stations, and music lined up, he was ready to face the party so to speak.
One by one, guests entered. Some had their own dishes, naturally Japan brought a perfectly wrapped gift box of sweets, Italy somehow finding the time to make a pasta bowl - because of course Feli would bring pasta, it was more surprising that he didn’t bring several types.
Soon enough the party was full and music was playing, people snacking and drinking. Ludwig felt a sense of pride as he watched over silently from a corner of the room. Though the night went on, he felt more and more drained. One or two drinks didn’t help to calm him like he thought, anxiety of something going wrong was almost too much.
“Germany!” Feli’s voice sung from the crowd as he ran towards his friend, “This party is amazing! So much food I think I’m going to pass out.”
The German gave a small laugh, amused but humbled, “Thank you, Feli. Please, try not to hurt yourself.”
“I make no promises~” He sung before skipping off to the next person to bother.
The night went on, Ludwig managing to get a few snacks in when he could between checking on his guests, “You should enjoy yourself more, dude!” Alfred slapped him on his back, “2018 is coming and the bar is low!”
“A-ah. yes I will keep that in mind.” He smiled politely, while making his stiff way to the next group of people.
A crash sent alarm bells ringing. Were his health and safety checks not thorough enough? He was one of the first to arrive at the scene, discovering a spectacularly drunk man being helped off the floor, and it hadn’t even hit midnight.
He went to join Ivan in helping the other up, “I’m sorry.” The large man smiled, “I should know better than to challenge an englishman to a drinking contest.”
Ludwig bit his tongue, holding back anger. This was deliberate, he could see in that sweet, smug smile. “It’s alright.” He spoke through gritted teeth, setting Arthur onto a chair.
“I’m fine, it’s fine. We were just having a grand old time.” The Englishman smiled and waved his hand, swaying in his place, “I’m not that drunk I’ll have you know.”
“Sure thing…” Ludwig sighed, turning to the Russian off to the side with a cold stare.
“I think he should go home before he gets worse.” Ivan leaned over, as if undisturbed by the look being shot his way, hands behind his back to inspect the man in the chair,
“Oi… not so close you little shit.”
“Impossible.” he frowned, “I am big.”
Ludwig put a hand on the other’s chest, a gentle attempt to move him back, “I’ll take him home.”
“But Germany, it’s your party.” Feli’s voice was sad, the circle of concerned people gathering,
“It’s my responsibility after all.” he spoke with a sigh, already positioning himself to pull the man up,
“Then I should take him.” Alfred stepped out, about to pick the other man up, only to be swatted away with muttered cursing. The drunk man almost fell off his chair, but used the momentum to just about get to his feet, “Stop worrying about me.” he slurred, “I am fine. See.” He took a breath, and exhaled, managing to stand up straight. Everyone waited in silence.
“I am going to throw up.” With everyone watching, Ludwig manage to grab the nearest bowl from the table, just barely chucking out what was inside in time to catch it. Not how he wanted the evening to go, but something he’d definitely missed in his careful planning.
This seemed enough to convince the others to let him drag Arthur outside, promising Francis he would return the bowl, sterilised of course. For now it was left with a waiter as he piled the half asleep drunkard into his car and began the drive to his home, he didn’t know where Arthur was staying, and it was better to keep an eye on him. He could sleep comfortably on the sofa, though in his state, he could probably sleep soundly anywhere.
He didn’t wake up during the drive, occasionally muttering something in his sleep before shifting. It was almost sweet how peaceful he was, shame there was no blanket to wrap him up in.
Eyes on the road, Ludwig, the German reminded himself. Plenty of time to swaddle him up when they were home safe.
By the time they had gotten into the small, yet cosy house, Arthur had woken up from the experience of being pulled out of his seat. He seemed to notice quickly as they walked through the door where he was before pushing away, stumbling over to the bookshelf and falling to his knees, searching through records.
“Nein…” Ludwig muttered, hooking his arms under the other’s to pull him to the sofa. He resisted and continued to fight for the records. “Just want to listen…” Arthur managed, making another crawl to sift through.
Ludwig sat on the sofa nearby, fed up of trying he decided to humour this drunk adventure.
The Englishman pulled out something and shuffled to the record player nearby, for the sake of the record, Ludwig stepped in to place it on the turntable and let it play.
“God I love this album.” Arthur stood, swaying a little but overall more steady on his feet, “If I remember correctly, and I always do, 1981. Possibly around November.”
“Correct.” He couldn’t help but give an amused smile, “8th of November, 1981.”
“Of course I know!” He spun and fell into a bow, surely something he thought was quite gracious, looking more like a boat about to tip, “OMD are my boys.”
The crunching music sang through the air, a harsh voice somehow fitting both off key and perfectly into the tone as it lamented with tight emotion. Arthur danced along, or moved his body at least. Air guitaring along with the bass line and exaggerating the lyrics, just egging his friend to join him. And as the track moved from the roughness of The New Stone Age and into She’s Leaving the mood mellowed slightly.
“Come on, Lud. Like old times.” The englishman held the other’s hands and swayed him, convincing him into some kind of movement, he felt a smile on his face as Arthur grinned, “Look! You’ve got it! Now dance you big lug.”
----
Berlin, Germany. 1963.
Life had been trying, after such damage everyone had taken, years had been spent in recovery. Ludwig had still been in this state, waves of dizziness, giving in to cold sweats as he hugged the toilet bowl, unable to even gag for the fear of heaving up his empty stomach. He could eat, though whether he deserved it was another question. Self punishment, he thought, for everything he’d done.
He had isolated himself, huddled in his unusually messy home. Years had passed, he’d gotten better than he had previously, managing to eat at least one small meal a day. He didn’t quite know where to place himself amidst the mess, he felt like just another misplaced food wrapper.
A knock on the door felt too bizarre to be real at first, he didn’t remember ordering anything. But, after some time of just staring at the door, he got up from his blanket cave, in last weeks boxers and a vest he didn’t quite remember when he last took off, to answer whoever was knocking. When no one was in front of him, he almost closed it. Just kids playing some stupid prank perhaps. Though, when he looked down, a gift was on his step. A bag with his name on it. If it was a prank, it was a good one for them to learn his name first. But he didn’t question it, taking the bag inside to inspect further.
It was a brown paper bag with handles, his name written on the front in block capital letters with some kind of marker. Inside was a record, a couple of apples, and a note baring the same handwriting as on the bag.
“LUDWIG,
THIS NEW ALBUM CAME OUT. SMASHING STUFF. THOUGHT OF YOU WHEN I HEARD IT.
KEEP THIS COPY I HAVE MY OWN.
ALSO I PICKED THESE APPLES UP FROM A MARKET THIS MORNING AND HAD A COUPLE SPARE. ENJOY
ARTHUR”
He squinted at it. England? Why was he giving him music? And more importantly, what was he doing here to drop it off? It all seemed like too much effort to figure out, but at least the apples looked good. He bit into one and held it in his mouth as he brushed some stuff from the top case of his record player, popping the record on before finishing his bite and planting himself back on the sofa.
In time, he felt his feet tapping along, a pressure on his chest lifting. The first time he had relaxed in a while, it was refreshing, even just sitting there to listen, giving in to the occasional nod or sway. He felt a small smile crack across his face, it was nice of Arthur to think of him.
As the songs continued, he read the album sleeve, these Beatles guys seemed to know a little something about a beat.
He listened to the same album for a while, repeating it on a daily basis while cleaning up around, letting himself sing along or allow himself a step or two. When the time came, he thought about those apples too, making a note to find that market Arthur had been talking about, going out would also give him the opportunity to look for more of this music.
A record shop opened nearby he found, a bag full of apples held close to him as he looked through the window. They must have been quite big, he thought, being advertised across the whole shop with past singles and the new album front and centre. He couldn’t help but pick up a few of their older singles to enjoy, coming to dislike the silence around him.
He continued this, years going on. Occasionally he would get a new vinyl of the latest Beatles album in the post, always with a similar note from Arthur gushing over the new sounds his country was coming up with. Ludwig felt almost unworthy of this attention, though he was sure it wasn’t just him, what with America seemingly also obsessing over them. So, although it felt rude, he never had anything he could quite reply with. He was aware of the growing interest in this new kind of music, the bands he produced were either similar or covering the sounds. Of course there were those experimental, but they were just kids for now; kids trying something new that wasn’t perfected, and perhaps not worthy enough. He hoped at least that Arthur was aware of his appreciation.
By the time the decade was almost over, Ludwig hadn’t received his usual vinyl package. He assumed it was still on it’s way, even if he had already heard the songs. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band Played endlessly over his radio, and he was excited for Arthur to send the record for him to listen to at his own pleasure, to pick and choose the songs he wanted specifically. But, it didn’t arrive at it’s usual pointed time, it was always a week at the most after the album was released, even sometimes early should Arthur get his hands on it.
He was ready to go out and buy it himself, scared it would start to sell out. The knock at the door made him jump out of his seat, a package surely. Just late, of course. But it wasn’t the postman who greeted him at his door, but a blond man in a leather jacket, union jack painted on a bandana around his neck.
Arthur smiled with an awkward air, “Hope you don’t mind me delivering it by hand this time, I really think you’re going to like this one.”
The other smiled with some excitement, stepping to one side to let him in. White pointed boots, and tight jeans that fit almost like a second skin, it was a miracle Arthur wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Can I take your jacket?”
“Oh sure.” He shrugged it off and handed it over, making his way straight to the record player, “I was almost scared you weren’t listening to them.” He laughed, replacing the current spinning record with his own.
“I was.” Ludwig followed on, he had so many questions, “I just didn’t know how to reply.”
“Well yeah, It’s pretty consistent for them to come up as number one in your charts! So I just kept sending them.” He turned the music up as high as it would go and bopped along to the sound.
As many times as Ludwig heard this album, he felt rigid, he’d never danced to this with someone else, it felt oddly intimate. He tapped his foot and swayed slightly, watching Arthur completely let go.
“Come on, Lud. Don’t tell me this is how you listen to them on your own. Music is better with people.” Just in time A little Help From My Friends began, the other sang along, coaxing him into it. He held his hands and stepped from side to side, easing into more movement as the song went on. Soon his was loose enough to get into it, cheered on by his friend they moved together.
The album was almost an hour long, they moved to it, swaying and spinning softly or hopping around to the varying sounds together, it was the most human interaction Ludwig had gotten that wasn’t hanging around the record shops or awkwardly standing among teenagers at concerts. He was having fun, loosening up and enjoying himself. He was the teenager at the concert, bouncing around with a friend and singing the lyrics off key.
It finished with the two laughing, worn out and sweaty from the sudden work out. Arthur threw an arm around him while he hunched over, the only time it would fit really, “You can’t get stuff like that from being on your own.”
“N-no.” Ludwig smiled through heavy breaths, “It’s been a while.”
“We should do this every time one comes out, and maybe you’ll share something with me, huh?”
“Oh I.. there’s nothing much to show.” He cleared his throat, straightening up to let his friends arm fall,
Arthur pulled a face, “C’mon, I know you have something cooking.”
The German moved to his kitchen to fetch something to drink, the other following him,
“I hear there’s a real underground scene building.”
“That? They’re just kids… experimenting.” He filled a glass and gulped it down,
“Experimenting is where it all starts, if no one did anything different, we wouldn’t have great music.” Arthur stood against the doorframe, his arms crossed, “I feel the coming of an era.”
“We’ll see.”