The message was sent to everyone practically after the world meeting.
"HEEEEY GUYEZ COM 2 MAH HOUSEEE GUITAR STUFF AND BAND STUFF AND DANCIN THINGS IGGY MADE MEH BUUUUY HURRY HURRY WE GOTZ PIZZA!"
Prussia looked at his phone. And then looked at it some more. …. Was America having a party? …. Maybe West knows…. "HEY! WEST! GERMANY!", the Prussian yelled through his little brother's house, gathering articles he had thrown everywhere after the meeting' "DID YOU GET ZAT MESSAGE FROM AMERICA ALSO?"
Suddenly, he collided with his younger brother, having to look up at his fuming brother, but he decided to ignore his brother's reddening face and death glare to simply look up, using his best angelic face. "… Did you hear vhat I asked?"
"YES I HEARD YOU, DUMPKOFT!" Came the booming response from his brother, who then sighed and grabbed his coat from the coat rack to the left, and then looked at his disheveled older brother, his ice-blue eyes following him run around the living room, collecting a shoe. "Do you vant to go?" he asked, even though he could already tell what his response would be.
"OF COURSE! DID YOU NOT SEE THE PART ZAT ZAID GUITAR STUFF?" Was the given reply, as his Prussian brother ran a pale hand through his disheveled silver hair. Germany sighed. There was nothing but paperwork left to do for the weekend…. And it would be nice to relax after the meeting with his friends. There was no argument from his part as Prussia ran out the door, jumping into their car. This would be a nice little get-together after a stressful meeting.
Or so he thought.
When they pulled up, the first thing that greeted them was… what was that? The German squinted, looking up at the porch of the American's house. On the porch there was…
"… Mein Gott…" the German said, as his brother started laughing uncontrollably. On the American's porch was bag upon bag, box upon box, and container upon container of every single type of takeout you could imagine. And it was all strategically place to resemble … a man's genitals. And at the base of this sculpture was, of course, France. Naked and drunk France. While the German was seriously considering locking the car doors and driving away as quickly as his car would let him (he wasn't caring about the law now, he just wanted to get out of there), his brother threw open the passenger door and ran towards his best friend.
"WAIT! BRUDER!" the German yelled in dismay as he opened his door and jumped out, watching in disgust as his brother hugged his perverted friend, who in return greeted him with a swift groping. Germany sighed deeply; slamming his door shut, and then walked over to the passenger side and did the same. And just to be safe, he locked his car and then made sure by locking it again. It appeared that they would be there for a while. He swiftly walked by his brother and France, and gingerly stepped past the take-out statue blocking the entrance. Maybe they had kicked France outside because he had gotten too drunk? He could only hope as he stepped into the American's house.
Unfortunately, and not surprisingly, he was wrong.
The house was PACKED. Nations and micro-nations, cities and states, apparently the invitation hadn't been limited to the World 8. There was yelling and shouting, the hardwood floor was sticky with spilled drinks, toilet paper had apparently been thrown around, because strips upon strips were covering the rafters and walls of the living room, held up by random items. As Germany looked to the left, he found that the kitchen had become a makeshift bar/ drinking game center. Right outside of the kitchen a pillow fort had been made, and faces he all too well recognized sat and giggled, oblivious to the fuming German nearing their safe-haven.
"…. And then Luddy starts yelling at me, telling me to sleep in my own bed. So I tell him that I wanted to sleep with him, and he turns all red, like a tomato! Ve~, he looked so cute!" Italy rambled on; entertaining the three girls he was sitting with. The girls, though not countries, not even from his country, were kind enough to help him build a pillow fort, so when they asked for stories of him and his favorite German; it was only polite to indulge them, right?
"Yes, mein bruder would do zuch. He has a crush on you, zo it's no vunder he would freak!" Berlin, one of the two oldest girls in their fort, said, swaying back and forth, on the edge of being hammered, being held up by her love interest, and slowly raised a hand to her face, trying to bat away a lock of her platinum hair. Paris, the second oldest, sat there, tipsy and giggling, hugging her lover's arm for dear life as she erupted into a new fit of giggles, the peals of laughter bouncing off the pillows and cushions of their fort like her dark blond loose curls, now free and hanging in front of her face like a veil, partially hiding the spread of pink erupting on her cheeks, a combination of her current state of tipsiness and her ability to hold onto Berlin's arm without being pushed away. The last (and youngest) girl of the group, who was trying to sneak away, was Alaska, who wasn't allowed to drink, but was becoming drunk off of everyone's merrymaking. They all had been sitting there for a good 15 minutes before suddenly, after Berlin's response to Italy's most recent story, the roof of their fort was ripped off by a blushing German. Italy popped straight up, smiling, and jumped at the German, hugging him and clinging on to him as if he was about to die. "Luddy! I didn't know if you're going to come or not! I'm glad you did!" the Italian said, kissing the German on the cheek. Germany blushed, and then he saw who else was in the fort.
"BERLIN!" the German yelled, looking at the city. She turned towards him, and then she finally realized who had just yelled her name. She stood up, swaying dangerously back and forth, pulling Paris up with her. "Y-Yes?" she responded, giggling a bit.
Germany studied her face, noticing her blush. "… Have you been drinking?" She smiled, and then walked out of the fort clumsily, Paris still clinging to her arm, stumbling next to her. Germany sighed, watching them walk away. Kids these days.
His attention was drawn back to the Italian clinging to him. "Germany~ How are you?" the Italian asked, hugging the German.
Germany pried the Italian off his arm, smiling meekly. "I am vell. But I plan on leaving soon from this party. Do you have a ride home?" he asked Italy, but he got no response. When he glanced down to him, he found that Italy had fallen asleep. Germany sighed, then placed him back into the fort with Alaska, who had already passed out. Now that that was over, it was time to greet the host of the party, then leave.
He slipped through crowds of dancing nations, making his way to the large flat screen displaying some kind of karaoke game on the screen. He found that he was going in the right direction, because a crowd of people gathered around an obnoxious American voice he recognized all too well.
"HEY, EVERYBODY LISTEN TO ME AND MY TOTAL HERO VOICE WIN THIS ROUND SINGIN' A SONG FROM IGGY'S HOME!" America yelled as he searched for the Beatle's song he knew was on this game. A drunk and fuming England stood next to him, scowling, then grabbed a beer from a nearby coffee table and started chugging it. Germany rushed over to the American, dodging as many spilling drinks as he could. He then grabbed America's shoulder, spinning him around so he could get this done as soon as possible.
"America, zanks for inviting us to your party, but ve must go. I, uh… have paperwork at home to do. Zo, guten nacht." The German said quickly, and before America could say anything, he walked/ran back over to the sleeping Italian. He picked him up softly, putting him on his back. He then put a blanket on the snoozing Alaskan that was next to him. Then, suddenly, a tall girl with black layered hair appeared seemingly out of nowhere, picking up Alaska and setting her on one of the couches. Before the German could comment, the girl put a finger to her lips, silencing him.
"Guanajuato doesn't need help taking care of soon-to-be property." The girl said in a whispery monotone voice, and then she sat next to the sleeping Alaska. Germany shivered. Something about this girl was not good, like she smelt of death. Germany sighed again, running a hand through his now disheveled hair. But he had a task, and he was going to accomplish it: going home.
He squeezed through the crowds, finding it a tad harder now with Italy on his back, but he sighed in relief when he reached the open front door. He ran outside, searching for his brother, and smiled when he found his brother's drunk, passed out body next to his car, his shirt missing and his chest signed by his two best friends, along with drawings on his chest and face. He unlocked his car, opening the door to the back seats and laying the Italian inside, and then he made his way over to his brother, opening the passenger door and pulling him into the passenger seat, buckling him into it. He closed both the doors, then sat himself down in the driver's seat, starting up the engine. As he drove away, he had but one thought.
He should have stayed just a bit longer. What harm could it have done?