Germania was used to Rome's general air of excitement. Well, saying he was 'used' to it implied that it no longer annoyed Germania; Rome still annoyed him, very, very much. However, the murmurs and whispers of Germania's men promised that when Rome inevitably showed up—again—he would be even more excited the usual. This didn't please Germania; not one bit.

It was a lovely day, and Germania was just stepping out of his home when he heard the marching. The dreaded marching. This simple act of a unified walking had become symbolical with one of the only men Germania knew who would travel with such a troop. However, Prussia, who was just waking up and standing next to Germania about to demand for breakfast, had never met Rome before, so the marching was brand new to him.

"Vater, what's that noise?" Prussia asked, tugging on Germania's hand. "Vater!" Prussia wailed, practically swinging on Germania's arm.

Germania shook off Prussia, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's a cat-monster. Get inside and protect your bird." Well, it was close enough to the truth.

Ignoring Prussia's squeak and sounds of frantic wailing of him trying to capture his bird and protect it, Germania crossed his arms and waited as the procession of armed Roman guards stopped in front of Germania's door. Rome, of course, was sitting as proud as a peacock in the center of the group on his horse, eyeing Germania as he swung his leg off and swaggered over to Germania. The arrogant bastard.

"Germania!" Rome laughed, clapping Germania's back. "It's good to see you again! How have you been, freezing your arse up here? Why don't you ever come and visit me?" Rome pouted, struggling to wipe the smirk off his face.

Instantly, Germania bristled. "What are you smiling at?" Already, however, Germania could feel the pricks of dread at the back of his neck. He knew exactly what Rome was smiling about.

"Your hair!" Rome exclaimed, tilting his head. "You grew it out." Germania couldn't identify the tone in Rome's voice… it was a mix between amused, teasing and affectionate. Germania already saw the snickers of a few of the Roman guards.

"Why the hell are you—and your shiny men—loitering on my lawn. Get them off." With that, Germania fled—well, not fled, but hurried back inside his house and shut the door with a decisive 'thunk.' He ran his hand through his hair. Compared to the clean shaven Romans, he must look like a brute.

Prussia was staring at Germania. "That wasn't a cat-monster. That was a man. And he had the most magni—manfi—cool solider guys of ever seen! Can I have a big army like that too? Can I have a bigger army! Oh, they'll be all shiny like that guy's! Who was that, Vater? Huh? Who? Vater?"

It took a little under an hour until Rome barged into his home, with three people following. At first, Germania thought Rome had stolen some children on the way—to be slaves or some horrible thing like that. But as Germania looked closer, all three were a spitting image of Rome. It seems Germania wasn't the only one with a new kid hanging around.

Rome grinned at Germania, winked then presented the three kids. "Germania, meet my grandsons."

Germania stared and nervously ran his hand through his hair, though his face remained blank. The smallest ones seemed to be about the same age. One was grinning in the same incoherent way Rome did, with his eyes half closed and mouth wide open. His hair was a light auburn color, and he had a preposterous curl protruding from the left side of his hair.

The next one, who only seemed a year or two older, was completely opposite from his brother. He had a scowl on his face, dark, glaring eyes and a red face. He almost looked like an angry tomato. His hair was the same color as Rome's, a darker auburn, with a curl on the right side of his head.

The last one, who seemed to be oldest, had the smuggest grin on his face Germania had ever seen, even from the likes of Rome. He held his head high, and his brown hair fell into his eyes as he looked Germania up and down. He was like a more dangerous, mini-Rome. Germania blinked.

"This is Italy," Rome pointed to the first boy, "This is Romano," The second, "And this is Byzantine." Rome couldn't be more proud, showing off his grandsons. "Aren't they just adorable? It took me forever to wrangle them all together for a trip, Italy—or Feli—was off running around the Alps, Byzantine was off by the west end of the Mediterranean, doing gods knows what and Ro—"

"You traveled all the way to my home to show your grandsons off to me?" Germania blinked at Rome, frowning slightly. "I would have thought you'd just drag me off to your Utopia, parading me around and them—"

"Oi! Bastard it's not like we like being up here!" Germania switched his attention to the tomato. "It's freezing and all you ever see is sheep." Romano's face deadpanned. "Why do you have so many sheep? You all smell like sheep, eat sheep and wear sheep."

Rome's face reddened and immediately he turned and cuffed Romano, hissing quietly. "You bastard! Keep your mouth shut!" Rome straightened and shrugged off the embarrassment of his grandson. "Sorry about that! I think sheep are quite fetching."

Germania sighed, and massaged his temples. "Rome, why are you here? Not that I'm not tickled pink but…" Germania couldn't help but be exasperated. Gods know how long he'd have to house Rome, his grandsons and his small army. And if Prussia—"Rome, why are you here?" Germania asked a little sharper.

Rome's face fell slightly, when he caught the look Germania was giving him. "Come on, don't be like that. You knew as soon as I heard I had to come up here and…"

In the most inconvenient and awful timing ever, Prussia poked his head from around the corner of the hallway, gazing at the fancy newcomers. "Hey, hey, Vater. Is that the leader of the shiny men—oh! He has minions for me!" Prussia scuttled over to Germania and stood proudly next to him, looking over Rome's grandsons.

Rome sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at Germania guiltily. "Germania, I've come to discuss the terms of Prussia and his parental and national care… In my hands."

Yeah. Don't own Hetalia.

Anywho~ Yes. I am back because there is a shocking lack of Germania and Rome fics. This offends me as a person, which is a high offense. :D

Anyways, I may or may not be continuing my other fics. I would love to, but currently it's shifty. Like, the weatherman says there's a fifty-fifty for rain tomorrow. Take your chances and leave the umbrella. ;D (Whatever that means...)

This shall be rather short story, I thinks. And no little Germany yet. D: But little Prussia!

Anyways, review and have pretzels!