"NO! YOU GOT IT! YOU GOT IT!"

"It's just a fucking game, Prussia."

This was a normal everyday occurrence. Lovino Vargas was perched comfortably on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. Trying his hardest to ignore the other, he was perfectly calm.

Gilbert Beilschmidt, however, was the exact opposite. He tried to stay in his seat, but each time his team scored another basket he just couldn't help it; he shot up from where he was sitting, his beer and assorted junk foods flying everywhere as he cheered. Romano rolled his eyes irritably.

"You're getting the carpet dirty, bastardo," He growled, sipping his wine. Prussia made no attempt to clean up his mess, nor reply; he just continued to scream his glee to the heavens.

"Suck it, losers!" He laughed arrogantly. "You don't stand a chance! Not one!" He took a swig from his beer and sat down again anxiously. It was supposed to be some big important basketball game between two German teams that Romano didn't know about, nor did he really care. He focused his attention back to the TV.

"I didn't even know you bastards played basketball," He said to his boyfriend sitting next to him. He received no response. "Hello? Are you even listening to me?" Nothing. Agitated, he continued to attempt to regain his ami's attention, but to no avail. Finally, he gave in, pissed beyond belief.

As Prussia continued to keen at the TV, the Southern Italian walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, listening to the cheers, and, more food spilling.

"He's so stupid…" He murmured over the sounds of the announcer and Prussia's obnoxious screaming. He grinned despite himself. He was a moron, but he was still kind of cute. In his own, annoying way.

Well. Might as well make food, while he was distracted. God only knew how badly Prussia could screw things up, especially when it came to food.

Romano didn't even notice the said albino when he entered the kitchen about ten minutes later.

He popped up from behind him. "Whatcha making?" He shouted, maybe a little too loudly. Romano must've jumped about twenty feet into the air. He twirled around, startled.

"What the hell?!" He yelled at the smiling man in front of him. Prussia simply waved.

"Hallo," Romano growled and returned to his pasta, wafting it every so often. The ex-nation frowned. "Hey," He interrupted the silence. "You will pay attention the Awesome Prussia!" He smirked cockily. Romano rolled his eyes.

"Go suck a dick, or something," He said quietly. Prussia gasped in mock surprise.

"You're so rude, Lovi," He awaited the other country's reaction. And boy, did he get one. Romano almost dropped the pan of pasta, setting it down on the counter and pointing a fork at him threateningly. Prussia responded by putting his arms up in a show of mock surrender. Romano advanced on him slowly, holding the fork out in front of him.

"You." He jabbed his companion in the chest lightly. "I told you not to call me that!" He shouted, jabbing him again, and glared. Prussia laughed.

"D'awww, you're so cute,"

It was at that point that Romano had to turn away, lest he rip the other to pieces right then and there. He grabbed the plates and dumped the pasta onto them, taking his own to the living room. "There," He mumbled, gesturing to the other plate on the table. Prussia frowned.

"Why aren't you eating at the table?"

"Because children aren't allowed to eat in the living room," Romano called back, setting himself on the couch again. He grinned to himself at the other's sound of protest.

"But!" He whined, giving him the kicked puppy look. Romano didn't fall for it.

"Nope. Sit, you potato," He growled. Prussia did so reluctantly.

Romano got comfy, not bothering to turn the TV back on as he took his first bite. He smirked a little. Damn, why was his cooking so amazing? Oh yeah.

He was Italian, dammit.

For the next few minutes, they ate in silence, Prussia seated at the table while Romano lay on the couch, staring at the blank screen. He looked down at the spilled snacks and sodas still spilled on the floor and shivered in disgust. "You're cleaning this up when you're finished," He declared, glaring at him from the next room over.

He was met with silence.

"Prussia…?" He said, confused. He set his now empty plate down on the coffee table and walked into the dining room.

Prussia wasn't there anymore. The Italian's eyes widened. "What the hell?!" He looked around dazedly. "He was here two seconds ago…." He looked under the table. And behind the table. And even above the table. Nothing.

"Prussia?" He called out, looking around for any sign of the albino. There was none. He called again, clearly confused. "Prussia?"

By now you could obviously tell that Romano was confused, and more than a little pissed off. He growled and flopped back onto the couch, in a less than cheerful mood. "Prussia, you bastard, stop hiding from me, dammit!" He wasn't going to fall for it. Not this time.

So he waited. And waited. And waited some more. Romano gulped a little, his worry levels rising. Was Prussia okay?

Pfft. Of course he's fucking okay, He thought bitterly. No, Prussia was too awesome to just disappear into thin air like that and not be okay. It was just some other retarded trick to freak him out. He couldn't help the nasty frown that slowly grew as he thought. He crossed his arms hatefully.

"Stupid bastard and his stupid fucking mind games, and his stupid fucking food all over my stupid fucking floor…" He mumbled, looking down angrily. He still hadn't cleaned the food up yet. He sat and fumed for what seemed like hours, but in reality, just mere seconds.

He gasped in surprise as he felt a pair of arms wrap around him from behind. He whipped his head back to look at his attacker.

Prussia.

Romano summoned all of his hate and anger into the death glare he gave him (which was the glare of a thousand suns), but it had no effect. Prussia just grinned and snuggled his neck affectionately.

"Miss me, Lovi?" He purred. Said Italian growled, elbowing him in the face. Prussia let out a pained noise and fell over, groaning. "Why would you do that?" He groaned. Romano scowled.

"Where the hell were you?" He murmured quietly, menacingly. Prussia just grinned that stupid grin of his that Romano both loved and hated. And right now, he really hated that grin. He stayed seating on the couch, glaring at the floor. Prussia chuckled.

"Hiding," He said proudly. Romano's eyes widened.

"I fucking knew it!" Prussia just giggled and sat next to Romano, an amused glint in his eye. Romano glared.

"What the hell do you want, bastard?" Prussia didn't respond, he just lifted an arm (Romano noted this with caution), and petted Romano's hair, carefully avoiding the curl. The Southern Italian couldn't help it, he purred quietly, trying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately, Prussia's "awesome" ears heard the purring and he laughed, almost meanly. Romano blushed, looking down embarrassedly. "Awwww, Lovi," The albino cooed, pulling the Italian's head into his lap lovingly. Romano scowled.

"What the fuck are you-" He was cut off by Prussia leaning down and pressing their lips together softly, gently. The Southern nation's eyes widened a little. Prussia and he never kissed. They cuddled (unwillingly, on Romano's part) hugged, and came over to each other's houses often, but they never kissed. He smiled uncharacteristically and turned his head to make kissing back a little easier.

Prussia took notice of this and ran his hands through Romano's darkly-colored hair, relishing in the sound of his purring. It was adorable, really. The way he purred like some spoiled cat. He grinned and pulled away slightly, pressing his forehead to the others. Romano, still a little dazed, didn't take notice.

But unfortunately, this was Romano. So eventually, he did come back to his senses and pushed the ex-nation away, shakily getting his feet. Prussia pouted in loss. Romano pointed a stern finger at the spilled food on the floor.

"Clean. Now, dammit," He growled.

Prussia didn't need to be told twice.