Created for the kink meme-my very first fill! The prompt was to just write something with Prussia being happy about something to counter the angst you tend to see with him. Naturally Germany got involved too, because I love my German Brothers.

Cheep. Cheep cheep.

Prussia's groggy mind snapped to attention at the sudden noise. His brain, having grown a little slower over the years, couldn't quite place the sounds yet—there were only a few of them at first, little high-pitched peeps that sounded like they were coming from somewhere behind him, but as they continued they grew more frequent and quite a bit louder, until they were a series of incessant titters and cheeps that finally forced the ex-nation's eyelids open.

Prussia quickly sat up and rubbed his eyes, seeing from the color of the light spilling in through the window that it was early, maybe even near dawn. A quick glance at the old-fashioned metal clock on the nightstand told him it was 5:13—early enough that West wasn't even up yet (he always rose precisely at 5:30, Prussia knew). He hadn't gotten to sleep more than four or five hours ago, and he scowled at the racket that had dared to awaken his greatness so early. Even now it was still going on behind him—what on earth could even be up at this hour, anyway, making so much damn noise, twittering and tweeting away like little—

"Wait a sec," Prussia muttered, suddenly alert. He turned toward the open window that gave him an excellent view of the tree in the front yard as well as the entire street (or, as he liked to think of it, gave the entire street an excellent view of him), and a few seconds later let out a rather undignified yelp of joy and barely managed to throw off his covers before his feet hit the ground running toward West's room.

Moments later he burst into the spotless bedroom and rushed to the bedside, not even bothering to knock, and began enthusiastically shaking the big blonde hulk of a man that was his little brother.

"West! West! Get up!" Prussia practically shouted, not stopping even when Germany's blue eyes shot open in alarm. "Get up! You've gotta come see this!"

"Prussia?" West barely had time to question anything before he was forced to react to the incessant barrage of Prussian excitement threatening to throw him out of bed.

"Prussia, what the hell are you doing? Stop shaking me! What are you—ALRIGHT! I'M GETTING UP!" He finally roared, pushing his older (in age only, Germany thought more often than not) brother away and throwing himself onto his feet. Prussia stood back, a little breathless, and looked at him with a huge dazed grin that would have surely meant trouble if it weren't so childishly happy.

Actually, scratch that, Germany thought as the white-haired streak of energy began dragging him out of his room and into the hallway. This had to be trouble. Prussia smiling almost never led to good things, and he hadn't dragged him out of bed since that time he tried to rope him into that harebrained scheme to steal Austria's piano and hold it for ransom.

Resolving not to get himself into such an idiotic situation again, Germany suddenly braced himself the next place his feet landed in the middle of the hallway, stopping them dead in their tracks and giving his smaller brother whiplash throughout his whole body. Germany ignored the protests aimed his way and scowled.

"Prussia, I am not moving another inch until you tell me what the hell this is for," he asserted, using his significantly greater weight to hold them in place even as his brother kept tugging at his arm with surprising strength.

"West, just come on! I have to show you, you have to see this! Just—"

"Prussia," Germany growled a warning, and Prussia's red eyes went just a little wider.

"Weeeeeeeest," he whined impatiently.

"If this is another one of your schemes against Austria, I'm not going to—"

"This has nothing to do with that fop bastard! This is way more awesome than that!"

"Well then what sort of prank is this? What are you planning?"

"West! It's not a plan, I just found something awesome and I had to show my awesome little brother before I took a look myself!" Germany still refused to budge at the next tug on his arm, and finally Prussia rolled his eyes and let go. "Whatever, I'm going out there to look at them whether you are or not, so if you want to see them with me then you'd better hurry up!" And with that he turned and rushed giddily out toward the front door.

"Wait…them?" Germany's scowl turned into a confused frown. "Prussia, who—get back here!" He ran after the other man, who by now was already out the front door (and had apparently been in such a hurry he couldn't be bothered to close the damn thing, Germany noted as he ran through) and hanging around a lower branch on the little tree in front of his room. At first Germany barreled out still yelling questions and commands, but as he came nearer Prussia suddenly turned and motioned urgently for him to be quiet.

It seemed genuine, so Germany, despite more than a little confusion, slowed down and stopped shouting. Meanwhile, Prussia continued to peer intently into the branches full of fresh green leaves, his head down to look at something in particular. In a few moments Germany was behind him, and when Prussia noticed he was there, he beckoned him to come stand next to him and look. Germany did as he was told, and in a few moments his eyes widened in surprise and relief.

There, nestled into the branch where it met the trunk, was a little nest with four tiny chicks, who were now crying out insistently for their mother. And right above them was Prussia, former nation, past conqueror of lands and once-feared military powerhouse, cooing at them and fawning over them like a mother with her infant. Germany could only stare in pleasant shock.

Prussia gently nuzzled one of the chicks' beaks with his finger, and it hungrily opened it with an impatient noise. They were so adorable, all soft and grey and fluffy. Maybe they weren't quite as awesome as Gilbird, who had much better-looking yellow down, but they were still, as far as he was concerned, worthy of the privilege of being called almost as awesome as him. He told West all this in a happy babbling stream, and his little brother, as usual, was being his stern self and not replying. Prussia ignored the lack of response—that was just how West was, anyway—and continued admiring the little chicks in the nest.

Germany half-listened to his brother's chatter in amused surprise. It wasn't like he had never seen this side of Prussia before—they were brothers, after all, and he had seen similar affection turned toward various birds, dogs, horses and, occasionally, even himself over the years. But it was rare, especially nowadays, to see him so unabashedly and childishly happy, with that big dumb grin on his normally smug face, going on and on about how cute and cool and (of course) awesome these little defenseless creatures were. Germany couldn't help but smile a little himself seeing it.

"Can you believe it, West?" Prussia was still blathering on. "I was just sleeping like normal and then I heard something tweeting behind me, and then I turned around and looked and these little things were right there in the tree! I mean, I'm always too busy doing cool stuff to look out there, so I must not have noticed the nest getting built before, but I guess I just have awesome luck today."

"Well, it is springtime," Germany finally chimed in. "It would be the appropriate time of year for birds to be laying their eggs. We'll have to make sure the dogs don't get to them when they're out here."

"Yeah," Prussia agreed, only halfway paying attention. Suddenly he looked up at Germany. "Hey, West! What do you think we should name them?"

Germany started. "Name them? Do you expect to—"

"Let's see, we already have a Gilbird, so we can't use that…Hmmm…" Prussia gently slid his hand into the nest and scooped up one of the chicks. It wobbled unsteadily, trying to stand on the pale hand, and let out yet more tweeting noises. Then, resolutely, it closed its beak and gave Prussia's hand as hard a peck as its little head could manage.

Germany prepared to catch the bird in anticipation of Prussia throwing it down and spewing out a stream of colorful German curses, but Prussia merely let out a raucous laugh and petted its head with his fingertip.

"This one's a warrior, West!" He proclaimed. "He must be the most awesome one of all! You can be…Gilbird the Second!" He set the bird down in the nest and pointed at the rest in succession, naming them off.

"And this one can be Otto, and this one can be Fritz, and this little one can be…Birdwig!" He giggled to himself. "Man, I pick the best names!" He muttered. "I'm gonna take care of you all and you're gonna grow up and be strong and awesome and beat up all the other birds on the street!"

Germany watched with a slightly exasperated frown on his face. He had better stop this before it got too far.

"Prussia," he ventured, "You're not planning on actually raising these, are you? Their mother will no doubt be back to feed them before long, and she won't appreciate us hanging around her offspring."

"The Great Prussia is the only mother these chicks need for now!"

"Prussia, you can't just—"

"Hey West, listen to Birdwig! He's louder than all the rest of them! Little bastard's got some lungs on 'im!"

Germany sighed. Any attempt at rational conversation was clearly futile at this point.

"Have fun fighting off the mother bird when she comes back," he sighed, and turned toward the house to begin his morning routine. Prussia was perfectly content to let him go, and when Germany spared one last glance back, he again had one of the birds in his hand and was playing with it, giggling when it grasped his fingertip in its hungry little beak. A hint of a smile played at the stern nation's lips, and he turned back inside to get dressed and ready for the day.

...

A half-hour later, when Germany was settled into his favorite chair with the day's paper open in front of him, Prussia stumbled in through the front door, breath ragged and already-messy-from-bed hair further disheveled and even adorned with a few leaves sticking out here and there. His face was that particularly humorous mixture of indignant anger and fearful surprise that signaled a crushing defeat at the hands of a foe presumed to be harmless.

"Met the mother bird, I take it?" Germany deadpanned, a flicker of amusement in his unsurprised eyes. Prussia shot him an "I'm-never-trying-that-again" look and tried to gather his bearings.

"It wasn't a fair fight," Prussia defended. "I was unarmed!"

"And the bird wasn't?"

"Hey, don't sound so sarcastic! That beak was invented in the depths of hell as the most fearsome torture device in the history of everything."

"I see. I take it you won't be going out there anymore?"

Prussia's face perked up. "Are you shitting me?" the wild grin from earlier returned. "She may have won this round, but the Great Prussia will not go down without a valiant battle! I'm visiting them every morning from now on."

Germany raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Of course!" The smile on Prussia's face never dimmed, but something changed about it, and it morphed into something Germany didn't see often—it came out even less than the childish excitement from earlier, but he recognized it all the same. It was a genuinely happy smile—not scheming, not "laughing-at-your-misfortune," not "aren't-I-awesome-praise-me," just a smile you would expect from someone who had just found something to look forward to every day from now on.

"Tomorrow I should bring out Gilbird the First, so Gilbird Junior can meet his namesake and see how awesome he is. I'll get food for them too—I'll look up whatever it is little birds eat and I'll have them eat it out of my hand. And maybe I can even…"

Prussia chattered on as Germany went about his day, that blissful, genuine smile never leaving his face. The afternoon and then the evening came and went with nary an annoyed word from the normally ill-tempered ex-nation, and the next morning, when Germany woke up at exactly 5:30, got up, went out to the kitchen to make the coffee and glanced out the window, Prussia was there, set up with a folding chair and Gilbird in his hand, cooing and petting and smiling that same smile at the four little chicks in the nest.

And even though he knew full well the mother bird would come and attack his brother before the clock hit six, and that the chicks would grow up and fly away to make new nests in what would seem to them to be the blink of an eye, and the nest would be empty by winter, Germany couldn't help but smile a similar smile to himself as he watched contentedly from the kitchen.