The explosion was the first sign that something was wrong. It wasn't that his kitchen was in utter ruins, nor was it that it interrupted his work or damaged the house in any way. No, it was nothing like that. Perhaps it would be more correct to say the explosion that morning was merely the most obvious sign something was wrong with him, with Germany. He never would have realized it either if his brother hadn't marched up to his office, slipped a plate onto the corner of his desk, and watched him eat the entire offering without stopping his work or batting an eye.
Said older brother was still standing at his desk, arms crossed, his expression flat. "Unawesome, West. Very unawesome." That look wasn't one he'd seen on his brother's face before. His smiling brother, his stern disciplinarian brother, his soldier brother, his disappointed brother, none of those facets of the man before him had ever looked this severe.
The first thing that came to mind for this possible reaction was, "I did not drink the last of the beer, and if you read my Tagebuch again there will be consequences." A stern expression like that required his immediate and entire attention. Even wars had never gotten his brother's face to look quite like that.
Red eyes flashed dangerously with only a change of the brow angle, eyes and mouth. Uncrossing his arms, Prussia whipped out a finger. "Is Austria here?"
Prussia was using his thumb, which could indicate that there were multiple things he was unhappy about, so it was best to humor him for expediency's sake. "Yes, of course. I just ate some of his cake and heard him in the kitchen."
"You are not bothered by that?"
"He will use the kitchen as he sees fit and cleans up afterward, unlike others I can name."
"Did you know I found underwear... in the refrigerator?"
Well, that... that was... "How drunk were you?"
"It wasn't me!" Prussia cried, tugging at his hair. "But still unawesome!"
"So you're unhappy some stranger's underwear is in the refrigerator. It could have been North Italy, you know."
"Wrong size, and I've seen that style before; he doesn't wear it."
"Then you've come to report who the culprit is?" If it were France then they would have words. It could be England, but Prussia wouldn't be telling him then, and he failed to see what this had to do with the cake Austria just baked, and—"Wait, Austria? What did you do now?"
"No, he isn't here, and I didn't do anything!" Prussia was looking more agitated than usual now. "And those are his underpants in there, but that's beside the point! You realize you're too casual about it? West, why the fuck... you're Germany! It's supposed to be easy to be direct about it; if you're not interested just fucking say so!"
A number of plausible clarifications regarding this whole situation ran through Germany's mind. One, Austria was not here and had not been the source of the explosion. Murder of Prussia would commence after explanation provided a need. Two, Austria's underwear was in his refrigerator; however, it was possible Prussia was incorrect or Austria himself had not planted them there. Three, Prussia's dissatisfaction stemmed from something else, but still underwear related? Had he run out? Four, he was complaining that Germany was not direct enough regarding a specific matter. It could have to do with policy, or a number of other subjects, but that would not explain the explosion unless it was a result of Germany's supposed slight.
"Start from the beginning," Germany ordered, even as the headache began to nestle comfortably behind his left eye.
The paler man sighed, crossed his arms again, and nodded. "You and Austria. Un. Awesome, West. Un. Awesome."
What? "Austria and I? What is it now? You want me to trade less with him?"
"I'm not going to advise on that, I already said so." Prussia was beginning to look more and more miserable. "Come on, West—are you really this, this... It's Austria!"
Shaking his head, Germany looked back at the papers in front of him. "I still don't understand what you're referring to, Bruder. It could be a number of things, but I suppose I am not... awesome enough to completely understand how your mind works."
"Don't you get it? The cake!"
"What about the cake?"
"You ate it!" his brother screamed, quite nearly in tears.
"What is your point, Prussia?"
"Look, okay. West? West," Prussia grabbed his hands and forced him to look him in the eye. "West, look, it's me. It's Prussia. I'm your big brother, your first big brother, and this is really, really important, m'kay?" He nodded for emphasis and waited for Germany's return gesture. "I know I always told you to avoid marriages like syphilis, and I'm always telling you how awesome being alone is, but that doesn't mean you fuck with his head like this."
The headache had calmed somewhat, but in its place was what felt like a clotted artery, one that made his chest hurt and sat there like a rock. "What are you saying?"
"You and Austria. It's been over seventy years. If you don't want to fuck him, then cut him loose already."
Tagebuch: journal or diary(corrected thanks to Judy-Licious)