Vienna

The first snow of the year had fallen. Not too keen on just seeing it as mud on the streets, Austria had decided to go for a walk in the Schönbrunn palace gardens. Here, the snow was still a thick layer of white. The path he was walking on had been sanded so people wouldn't slip and fall in case of black ice. Austria huddled into his coat, burying his hands deep inside his pockets. In hindsight, he should have brought gloves.

The parents of the kids playing a few steps next to the path had apparently been wiser. All of the children were wearing mittens—and they were pelting each other with snowballs. Taking a moment in order to eye him from a distance—was this person going to scold them for their little game?—they resumed their battle as soon as they realised Austria wasn't about to say anything.

Prussia would have run to them, trying to teach them how to aim better, Austria thought to himself. The thought brought back memories from past winters: Prussia and Bavaria trying to battle each other with snow, attempting to stuff as much of the substance in each others' collars as they could muster; Prussia teaching Liechtenstein how best to throw snowballs at her brother, much to Switzerland's chagrin; Hungary throwing a well-aimed snowball at his own collar, coaxing him to participate in a group match…

He missed the company of all of them, but most of all, he missed Prussia. They had last seen each other for Austria's birthday, and that was already more than a month ago. Almost two, even. He had invited Prussia for Christmas Eve, earlier than the others, trying to make up for lost time.

Back in his house, he sat down at the kitchen table, warming the fingers of one hand on a freshly made mug of hot chocolate while he texted Prussia with his other hand.

Just saw a group of children have a snowball fight, he typed. I'm sure you could have taught them the perfect throwing technique.

Of course! The reply came almost instantly. I could have shown them how to build a snow fort too, so each could defend themselves and prepare more munitions! Austria smiled.

I rather doubt there would have been enough snow for that, he wrote. But I'm sure they would have appreciated the idea.

Hey, I'm awesome enough to be able to build a fort even with little material, was the reply. Austria chuckled. That sentence was typically Prussia, in a way. He knew the exact tone of Prussia's voice and the expression on his face when he said things like this.

Austria sighed. He missed this dork; perhaps more than he was willing to admit to himself.

Berlin

Slumped against his chair, Prussia was bobbing his left leg nervously until a well-placed kick in the shin stopped him. Throwing an accusing glance at his brother, he brought himself in a more proper position.

The classical Christmas concert to which they had been invited hadn't even begun and Prussia had already decided for himself that it would be too long and the music would probably be too slow. But they had been invited, alongside several government officials, so it would have been rude to turn down the invitation—or so his brother had said.

His thoughts drifted away to the concerts he had visited on Austria's side. Roderich would explain background information about a composer, performer, or a piece that had not been in the programme before the concert, sparing Prussia the trouble to read it at all; he would call attention to particularly interesting or beautiful passages, often just with a nonverbal nod; and he would also comment on passages the instruments and singers had intonated particularly well or bad.

Prussia missed his commentary; he missed Austria leaning close in order to whisper words in his ear; missed him tangling their hands together as soon as he was fairly certain people wouldn't pay attention to them.

His brother's company was great, of course, but his lover's was a completely different thing. Perhaps that was the true reason why he hadn't been too keen on going to that concert.

Went to a concert with West today, he texted Austria as son as they were home. Classical pieces for Advent or something.

Wonderful! What did they play? Austria responded at once.

Mostly rather well-known Christmas carols, Prussia wrote. I don't remember that many of them. The truth was, he hadn't been paying attention.

Oh, did they also play Tochter Zion and Adeste fideles and Les Anges dans nos campagnes and…

Stop, stop, Prussia wrote. Not so fast. They definitely played the first two; I'm not sure about the third one.

It didn't take long until Austria was sending him links to recordings, calling him in order to talk about keys and arrangements and interpreters and whatnot. Prussia listened, a happy smile on his lips.

"I could listen to you talking like this for hours," he said after a while. Austria paused. There was a slight chuckle at the other end of the line.

"You'll hear me talking for perhaps longer than you'd like as soon as you're over here for Christmas," Roderich teased. Prussia grinned.

"I could just shut you up with a kiss." There was another pause on Austria's part.

"I wish you could do that right now." Prussia didn't fail to notice the wistful tone in Austria's voice.

"Oh," he made. He felt a little awkward. "I mean it's not that long anymore until I can."

"Yes." Yet another pause on Austria's part. "I wish it was Christmas already."

"Me too, Roderich." It was a heartfelt reply. "Me too."

Notes:

The title refers to part of the lyrics of the song Wish You Were Here (1995) by the Swedish band Rednex (that I know via a cover version by Blackmore's Night). It goes on "… and I miss you like hell." Since that's what neither of those two dorks manage to say directly, I quoted the line before in order to allude to the following one. ;)

Tochter Zion, freue dich ("Daughter of Zion Rejoice") is only known as an Advent carol in German-speaking countries, I think, whereas it's an Easter hymn in English (Thine Be the Glory, Risen Conquering Son). Both versions are adapted from Georg Friedrich Händel's (1685-1759) oratorio Judas Maccabaeus (1746). There are many versions of Adeste fideles (O Come All Ye Faithful in English) and Les Anges dans nos campagnes (Angels We Have Heard on High in English). All three of them are among my personal favourites when it comes to Advent carols because their melodies are very pretty.