The sparrow had a simple life. It got up every morning and chirped a greeting to the world. Then it flew up, down and around, looking for food. Food was worms, seeds, small bugs, and other things. After it had found enough food, the world grew dark and it flew back to its dwelling.

It had a simple life.

But that was not to say it was an easy one.

Sometimes food was hard to come by. Sometimes squirrels tool all the food and didn't share like the birds did. Sometimes the food was guarded by cats. They jumped out from nowhere and dug their claws into other, unsuspecting sparrows. The sparrow always somehow managed to avoid the cats.

Sometimes it wasn't cats that would attack, though. Sometimes it was bigger birds, birds who ate little sparrows by the tallonful.

The sparrow had a simple life.

It had a hard life.

But it was a simple life, and it was a good life.

But... it was a lonely life. The sparrow had friends, but no good friends. it didn't have friends who would sing the same song as him, like some sparrows had. He didn't have friends who would save him the last seed or bug. he didn't have friends who would go back to his dwelling with him, and cuddle close to him at night.

He said "friends" but really he only needed one friend. One would be enough.

So one day, after getting up and singing his greeting to the world, he set out to search for a friend to sing the same song as him and to save the last seed for him. he flew far, and he flew near; he flew high, and he flew low. Day slowly turned to night and he flew back to his dwelling.

But the sparrow would not give up!

The next day passed much the same as the first, and then the next day after that, and the next day after that, and still the sparrow had not found someone to be his friend. On the fifth morning he went out with his flock to eat seeds and bugs. No one saved him the last of anything, even though he had been late.

No one cared if he got enough to eat.

No one cared if he never got back from searching for his friend.

No one cared... about him, it seemed.

He turned slowly away from the other birds and was about to fly away when there was a shy chirp from next to him. He looked over to find another of the birds looking at him with beady, beautiful bird eyes.

"Yes?" he chirped in a melancholy way.

"I, um, saved some seeds for you," the other sparrow said. "I noticed that you came late, so I... I saved some seeds for you. You don't have to eat them or anything."

The sparrow leaned forward and looked long and hard into the other sparrow's eyes. Finally he leaned back and sighed a long, deep sigh. He laughed a little, then turned to look at the second sparrow (who was very confused, at this point) and asked "Will you be my friend?"

The other sparrow blinked and cocked its head to the side. "Aren't we friends already?"

The first sparrow chuckled. "Yes, I think we are."

Romano crossed his arms and pouted as Spain finished the story. First the injustice of sitting in Spain's lap and listening to a story while Prussia was here, making fun of him, but then the story was weird and confusing and Spain kept acting as if it was the Bible or something.

"What's wrong, mi tomatito?" Spain asked gently. "Did you not like the story?"

Prussia sniggered from his perch slung across an armchair. "Mi tomatito." he chortled. "How embarrassing."

Romano jumped to his feet and stuck his middle finger out at Prussia. "Shut up, stupid potato bastard!" Spain quickly reached out and grabbed little Romano before Prussia could get too angry at him. Prussia had been a bit of a loose canon lately, and Spain wasn't about to let him get anywhere near Romano when he was like that.

"Romano, what is wrong?" Spain asked again. He could be a pushover sometimes, but he could also be very persistent when he wanted to be. Romano... sort of... oh, what's the right word here... love- no, admired him for that.

Romano grumpily sat back on Spain's lap, feeling extremely contented when Spain wrapped his arms around his little charge and resting his chin on the top of Romano's head. Romano pouted at this even though he liked it when Spain cuddled him.

"Nothing's wrong," Romano said with a pout, a light pinkish blush dusting his cheeks. "I just don't get it. What's so good about that story? Why is it so damn special? So some sparrow gets a fucking friend! Who cares?"

"Well, Roma," Spain says, holding Romano even closer to him and staring somewhere close to the ceiling. "It's like this: the sparrow didn't have any friends, and he was getting sad, right? He was getting really sad, and he wasn't even eating. Did you notice that? So, he's busy looking for a friend and he's finally going to give up and stop looking and he's just going to be lonely, but then he realizes he already has a friend, but he never realized it."

Romano thought about it for a long moment, then growled. "I still don't get it, bastard!"

But Prussia got it.

He suddenly shot up from the armchair and ran out of the room. Spain watched him go, vaguely wondering what was going on, but was brought back to earth by an insistent tugging on a strand of his hair.

"H-hey, bastard..." Romano said, face blushing cutely but a trembling note of worry in his voice. "Y-you're not going to leave with him now, are you?"

Spain thoroughly glomped Romano, laying them both down on the floor and curling around him. Romano flailed around a bit but then relaxed, a cute little baby yawn escaping from his lips. Slowly, slowly he fell asleep, and Spain took this time- the time secret from Romano -to kiss the little boy on the forehead before picking him up and carrying him to his room.

Romano didn't know it yet, but he was just like the sparrow. One day he would leave to look for something and then find that he had already had what he was looking for since forever.

AYE**LUV**YOU

Meanwhile, Prussia ran and ran and ran, all the way to France. He stood in front of his friend's door for a moment, just staring through the window. The lights were dim and the curtains drawn, but he could still see the silhouette of his friend sitting at a table, probably doing the stuff that nations are supposed to do. Which is also the exact stuff that Prussia wasn't doing, but was supposed to be.

Prussia took a deep breath, heart beating (awesomely) faster in his chest as he raised a fist to knock on the door. He stopped it just in front of the door. He wouldn't do this, he knew it. He couldn't do this. Somewhere deep inside of him he didn't think he was as awesome as he said he was. Somewhere deep inside of him, he was scared of what France would say. He was scared of what everyone would say, but he was especially scared of France.

Wow... it was true. He was actually afraid of France. This couldn't go on. He had to end this. Now.

Before he could have any (more) second thoughts Prussia brought his fist back a bit and then slammed it into the door. From the front stoop he could see the silhouette of France jump in surprise and he couldn't bite back his snigger at the thought that he had scared France.

Footsteps came from inside the house and suddenly Prussia didn't feel like sniggering anymore. Oh shit. Was France actually coming to answer the door? Oh shit, what was he going to say? He couldn't just, like, say what he had come here to say, he had to say something else first! Didn't he? I mean, he couldn't just greet him with-

The door barely had time to open all the way before Prussia shouted "FRANCE, I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU."

France just stared at him, blue eyes wide, perfect face puzzled, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, like always. The stubble that flecked his chin made Prussia want to kiss him more than it ever had before. Probably because even the stubble looked confused. Oh god, what was he doing?

"You what?" France finally asked, leaning against the doorframe. The hint of a smile lingered around his mouth, but he was still looking confused and as if he thought that Prussia was probably drunk. Prussia felt his face heat up and suddenly he was angry. HE WASN'T FUCKING DRUNK.

Prussia reached forward and grabbed France's face in his hands, leaning in to stare him straight in the eye. "I'm not drunk," he said, the calmest he'd been in... well, ever. "I'm not drunk. At all. I was at Spain's house, and he read Romano a book about sparrows, and about how love... love is always right next to you, and I just decided that I might as well tell you before I get cold feet and... Oh god, I'm leaving now." Prussia turned, embarrassed, and started heading away from France's house. He felt like some part of him had been ripped away, but at the same time it was as if... a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

He had reached the road in front of France's house and had just begun walking back towards- towards somewhere when he felt a hand on his wrist all of a sudden. It jerked him to a stop and then turned him around and he saw France standing in front of him. He barely had time to take it all in before there were soft lips on his, warm hands on his face, a body pressed to his. He leaned into the warmth, since the night air was cold, and he couldn't help but think back to the story about the sparrows... it was a bit more PG than what Prussia knew would happen here, but it was still the same.

He had finally found a... "friend."

A/N So, basically the moral of this story is to never give up, because you'll always have at least one friend or "friend" *suggestive smile* somewhere around you. :)