Hey guys! So... to all my followers who were expecting a comeback with HM... so so so sorry ):
I was horrified at the lack of BTT on this site, so I decided to do something about it !
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or it's characters.
Warning: Bad Touch Trio (France Spain and Prussia for the newbies) . Human Names used. Yaoi . Aaaaaaand polygamous relationship. (I'm going to hell...)
They're weird.
No, that's not quite right. It doesn't fit. "Weird" isn't the word that defines them, no matter how much they fit into the category. No matter how many people use that word to define them every time.
They're odd.
That's still not right. It still doesn't fit. Like a glove that's slightly too tight, or slightly too large.
They're different.
Well, they are countries. And that's already weird enough. Or at least, Antonio and Francis are. Prussia isn't anymore. But just like Rome, he's apparently kept his immortality. Which is great. But still. They... Are...
They're crazy.
No.
They're... They're three friends. They're Francis, Antonio and Gilbert. Bad Friends Trio, Bad Touch Trio, F.A.G. Trio, France, Spain and Prussia... So many ways to name them and yet no names to explain what they are.
They are friends that have gone through the worst and the best, tearing each other to pieces before immediately trying to heal. They have fought wars against each other, with each other, two against one, one for all, all alone... And after each and every one of the wars, would find themselves together, somehow, someway, somewhere, anywhere.
They are a paradox. Just like Germany and Italy. Or America and England. Except... They are three.
As if they weren't weird enough already.
None of the other Nations have said anything yet, but it's becoming obvious. Something different is going with the three friends. Something that not many societies would be alright with. Some would call it obscure, taboo... But...they are the Bad Friends Trio. They are famous for setting off rumors just for laughs. They are tricky. Insults only make them laugh. Nothing is really taken seriously with them.
(Or is it?)
They are confusing, tantalizing, unpredictable, obvious, different ... And they are together. That much, anyone will admit, in the dark of their room, as sleep is claiming them.
If you ask them about it, they're answers will always vary, depending on who they are with, their mood, the location, the day of the week, the weather, what color shoes you are wearing... France might babble a bit about universal love between butterflies and sewing machines, Spain might blink at you innocently and smile and Prussia will most likely remind you of his awesome self. But no accurate information will ever pass their lips.
They are mysterious.
So, the other Nations decide to ignore the signs. They do not understand it, cannot comprehend it, cannot sympathize, do not want to see. It leaves their minds.
Of course, there are some who notice. Some who know, or are pretty close to knowing the truth.
Canada, South Italy and Germany are the main three. And they never say anything.
Matthew. Matthew never says anything, but he smells. Every time he visits France, his papa's bed always smells a smell that has now become normal and familiar. But it is not only his papa's flowery scent anymore. It hasn't been for a few decades. It is a mixture. The familiar rose with the new yet obvious cinnamon and mint mingling into something disturbing and delicious. He knows France smiles when he goes to sleep at night because of it. France hasn't smiled in his sleep in a really long time.
So Matthew keeps his mouth shut.
Romano never says anything. But he hears. He hears a lot of French and German. They mingle with Spanish, all very musical and unique, and form a harmony that Romano swears he knows by heart. He also hears emotion in Spain's voice every time, the tiny crackle that stays at the back of his throat, the little smothered laugh, the smile in his every word. Even when he speaks in English, the smile in his vowels, the chuckle under his tongue. Romano hasn't seen Spain speak like this in years. Or is it decades?
So Romano keeps his mouth shut.
Ludwig never says anything, but he has seen and he continues to see. He sees fleeting touches, hands that linger and fingers that trace random patterns. He sees closeness between three bodies, like pulled by an unseen force together. They are open, touching, always reassuring, grabbing, holding. He sees one-armed hugs, pats, soothing strokes, prodding, cuddling. He sees Prussia let the invisible guard between him and the world down, so completely in fact that Ludwig is surprised every time.
So Ludwig keeps his mouth shut.
As far as Francis, Antonio and Gilbert are concerned, there is no problem. They are themselves. And that is enough. If their happiness is together, then they will be together. They don't need to define. They don't need to see, smell, or hear. They know. And the knowledge they possess is enough to get them through another day. Through yet another conflict, another tragedy. Because comfort will always be waiting for them at the end of the day. Comfort in beings so similar yet completely different from them.
No one talks about "it", so neither do they.
But if someone were to ask them one word to define them, the person would be quite surprised. Because it wouldn't be love, passion or awesomeness. It wouldn't be a word that anyone were to expect on their lips. Not something they would say. And yet, that one word would be so obvious, so perfect. It is something that not many other Nations ever gets to feel.
Trust.
Absolute and complete trust. Being able to put your life without any doubts in another person's hand and knowing that nothing would happen.
And in their case, it was even more than just life. They had handed their hearts over. Knowing that the smallest mistake could destroy them completely but never doubting for a single moment. Their trust in each other could be compared to that of a newborn child's in his parents. Just being able to look at that person in the eye and knowing what they are going to see.
Perhaps they are soul mates, people whisper. But they are three, others whisper back. Three. One little number that makes it sound wrong and disgusting instead of idyllic and perfect.
Three. It somehow manages to change love into sin.
But they do not care. They never care. They have always done things to shock, surprise and disturb other Nations. Maybe this was just a logical continuation of their illogical friendship.
When there were complaints about their behavior every time they were around, there is now silence. Awkward, deep, uncomfortable silence. And they smile. Their eyes glint with twisted amusement.
Lately, Prussia grabs both of their arms and pulls them closer together every time they walk (late of course) into a meeting. Spain and France intertwine themselves around their friend when someone complains that Prussia is no longer a country and shouldn't attend the meeting.
Now, France places soft kisses on their cheeks, ears, foreheads, hands... Spain and Prussia draw in protectively whenever England takes a jab at France.
And Spain always croons softly in Spanish. Little whispered sentences that make them all smile knowingly. Prussia and France always glare at anyone looking at Spain the wrong way.
The other Nations look at each other with slightly worried looks. This is so unusual, so different. How is one supposed to react in these kinds of situations? But pretty quickly, they get used to it.
What else, after all, is there to expect from the Bad Friends Trio?
So! I hope you enjoyed that!
Reviews are incredibly enjoyable.
(coughcough alright, they make me superduper hyperly happy. )
Thanks for reading!