Austria x reader-comfort

You rush back into the house you share with the others, intending to go to your room-but in order to get there, you have to pass by his office, and that’s where he stops you.
Suddenly your problem just seems silly.
“Hey, ___ why were you out so late? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asks/demands in that weird way that makes it seem like he thinks he’s your mother, or your wife. He’s one of those kinds that are constantly digging at you for information, their concern coming out more in the form of a scolding. It sounds like he’s scolding you every time he asks a simple question. Just the way he executes it, you suppose. You doubt he means to sounds so harsh all the time. He just...does. It was probably one of the reasons Italy didn’t like him much.
You lived in this house with him and Hungary and little Italy, as a maid. Like them, you were a smaller country he’d taken over; however, you didn’t mind that much. This way your country got enough money to feed everyone and he could handle all your financial work. As long as your land was happy, you were happy. Besides, his house was huge- you loved to explore it, with Italy in tow, his tiny hand in yours, or you carried him, listening to him laugh and complain about the food. By far, Italy was your favourite. And Miss Hungary was a pleasure to be around. You admired her strength and stories she told, a smile constantly lighting her face.
Although you were content with your life here, it was also boring. Every day was the same. Get Austria his coffee or tea, let him whine about something or other, wait for an order, clean around a bit, explore, make dinner, sit around with the others and laugh over stories and snacks. Same thing happened every day. Constantly. Year round. You were starting to feel like a trapped animal, a bird in a cage, and you hated it.
So you snuck out.
Nowhere far from home; you kept it in walking distance, just meandering about the pretty country, occasionally buying something to take home or stopping for a drink. Tonight was one of those nights. You’d had nothing heavy, some weird light and fruity thing that you couldn’t remember the name of. After that…..long story short, some creep was definitely interested in you and was getting way too close for comfort, you kicked him where the sun doesn’t shine and took off, fear making you tremble and, shortly after, start to cry. Luckily he didn’t follow you, but you were still shaken. You’d then attempted to go to your room to calm down a little, but before this could be accomplished, Austria(who was still awake for some unknown reason) had stopped you.
Which brings you back to the current situation.
“S-Sorry, Sir. I was just...out….it’s such a pretty night, I wanted to look around…” Chances are he’d try and lock you in the house if he knew you constantly snuck out. He’s overprotective like that...and also a bit of a hermit, but you wouldn’t say that thought out loud. “I tripped and fell on my way, it’s silly, nothing really, I’m fine.” You attempt a small laugh; it’s completely obvious he doesn’t believe you, what, with the way he’s staring at you. His expression is completely unimpressed, with a thin eyebrow(he waxes them) raised. “I’m going to ignore that lie and ask, once again, what’s wrong, ____.”
Goddamnit.
You sigh a bit. “..I….was out for a drink…..and some guy was trying to hit on me. It just scared me is all. I’m fine, really. He didn’t...hurt me or anything.” You let out a shaky sigh. He looks shocked. “Wait, he was hitting on you? What did he say?” His expression goes from open-mouthed to pissed in a second, and you can’t help but be a little surprised at his sudden anger-he didn’t hurt you at all, or, anything…..in fact, you’re the one that hurt him. Austria lets out a breath, composing himself, then reaches out to take your arm. “You’re shaking.”
You shake your head at this observation. “I’m fine, honest.” He looks at you, then down at your arm briefly, before letting go and strolling back to his piano. “Come sit down with me.” You hesitate, then quickly move to do as he says, perching yourself on the edge of the piano bench. He makes a show of pushing his tailcoat back and sitting down-seriously, he was so dramatic with everything, ugh.
And then he’s playing.
Nevermind how completely out of the blue it is-he sits there and lets his fingers work magic over the keys, as if he’s been there for hours, right at home in front of the baby grand. You’re instantly captivated, mouth dropping into a soft ‘o’. The song he plays is quite, gentle and sweet, his eyes closing as he gets into it. The melody is like nothing you’ve ever heard before and it’s absolutely beautiful. It doesn’t last very long-maybe about three minutes-and you think he made it up on the spot…
Just for you?
After the few last notes fade softly, he turns his head to look at you. “You’re not scared anymore, are you?” You shake your head, still in a slight daze. Such a pretty song….it was gonna be stuck in your head for days….”Play it again.” He blinks at the order; it takes you a moment to realize what you said, and you quickly try to cover it up. “-Please. It’s so pretty...just one more time, please?” He gives you another long look, like he’s calculating something in his head, and gives a slight nod before turning back to the keys.
And once again you’re plunged back into the song again. So pretty….you find you’ve scooted closer to him-hell, you’re practically on him, watching with wonder as hands dance over the black and white keys. You hum along with the notes, softly, staring intently at his gloved fingers. For some reason the air feels…..intimate, like he’s playing just for you, only for you, like no one else could hear it but you and it’s a song specifically for you. It makes your chest fill up with something light and fuzzy.
He finishes and you ask for more once again, relieved when he does so without comment, not looking annoyed with your insisting, just concentrating. It’s such a wonderful feeling in your chest, you’re barely breathing, just watching and listening-your head is resting on his shoulder, wait, how did that happen? You feel so light and content and happy….your eyes slide shut.
And then you’re asleep.

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You think she fell asleep.
Once you realized, that, she had indeed fell asleep, you stop playing, staring at the girl cuddling up to your arm as if it were a toy, a blush rising to your cheeks and a growing sense of awkwardness quickly swallowing you.
You’re not good at talking to people.
She looked scared, her eyes wide and body trembling, and you weren’t sure what to do, so you did what you knew best-you played, hoping to calm her down a little. You don’t know how to comfort people. Music, however, is a good way to express what you can’t-you can just put how you were feeling into notes, and they come out, and they told what you couldn’t absolutely perfectly. The song you played for her was something you made up on the spot, comforting words you didn’t know how to say, something sweet and soft and gentle to put her at ease.
It worked, apparently-she’d looked like an awestruck child, asking you to play it over again, which you did, mostly out of relief she felt better. And once more. And that put her to sleep. On you. At first, you hadn’t noticed, letting the feeling swallow you whole, concentrating on repeating what you’ve done exactly how you’d done the first time, only throwing in notes that would make it better. And then you vaguely heard her breathing even out, and that brought your attention to the feel of her head against your shoulder, and it filled you with embarrassment.
She’d fallen asleep on you.
“Ms. ____?” You tried tentatively. What do you do? She’s asleep! Should you wake her up, or just leave her, and sit here all night waiting? That’s out of the question-you want your nice warm bed with all the nice silky sheets and fuzzy blankets and comfy pajamas. “_____?” No answer, what did you expect? You let out a sigh, trying to think. “Hungary!” You have to say it softer than usual, for fear of waking the country using you as a pillow. She still comes running anyways.
“Yeah, what is it, Austria?” She pauses once she spots  _____ on your shoulder, her face then lighting up in a grin once she sees your(confused, flustered) expression. “Oh, are you two-?” You quickly cut her off with a string of denials, your blush spreading to your ears. She laughs and walks over to pick up the girl off of you, to your relief. “Aw, she looks so happy.” She smiles, then gives you a long look. “Why don’t you take her up to bed, Austria? I need to keep an eye on little Italy, in case he tries to steal some food again.” That’s a total lie. Italy’s been asleep for the last three hours. But you nod, seeing this as perfectly reasonable(and not knowing Italy’s actual bedtime).
“Such a pain….start putting him to bed earlier, Hungary.” She nods, seemingly amused, and waits patiently as you awkwardly pick up ____, one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. “Eh, right. You can leave, thank you.” She gives you a nod and exits the room. You think you hear her laughing….but you shake it off, switching your attention from your (former crush)maid to the problem at hand. Literally. She’s sleeping peacefully, letting out a soft snore. How did she fall asleep so fast…?
You sigh again and start up the stairs to her room, taking care not to trip on her skirts. Maybe you should get them lighter clothes next time…..those had to be heavy, and annoying, from the looks of it. Yes. Good plan. You nod once at this thought in approval as you look for her room in the large house. Ugh, you’re getting out of shape….climbing those stairs proved to be more difficult than it should’ve been. It’s probably from being inside so much. You should get out more.
Maybe if you got out more, sleazy guys wouldn’t hit on ____.
The thought makes you growl, of someone flirting with your country. Who’s house does she live in? Yours. She’s your servant, your…..friend, and that was how it was damn well supposed to be.
Eventually you find her room(sandwiched between Hungary’s and Italy’s, naturally) and quietly open the door(using the wall to hold her in place while you let go to turn the handle; ugh, not at all graceful. Thankfully there’s no one around who could’ve seen that). You place her on the bed, ignoring all the covers for now, and that fact that she’s still in her dress and not in any proper sleeping clothes. Not that you could do anything about that. There was no way in god’s name were you ever undressing her. And now you’re blushing again, excellent job, Austria. You hesitate a moment by the door, looking back at her all sprawled out on the bed, and sigh, going back to cover her with the spare blanket on the end of the bed.
That looked a little more comfortable, at least. You hesitate once again before leaning in to give her forehead a light peck. Ugh, you don’t even know this girl! She just works for you! Why would you kiss her? You don’t know, but it felt….like the right thing to do, you suppose. Like you can leave now without another worry about her comfort. Ugh, whatever, you’d think about this in the morning when you’ve had some caffeine in your system. You cast a final look at her before heading off to your own room, taking a quick shower and getting ready for bed. You hum the little tune you’d played for her, and remind yourself to write it down later….it could be pretty, maybe with some drums in the background, a few more instruments.
And maybe you could play it for her again sometime too.
You brush these thoughts off as mental ramblings, blaming weariness, and roll over, falling asleep after a while.