So, in order to make up for my lack of story posting, here's a little ficlet I wrote ages ago over the summer. At 6 O'clock in the morning. Lol. Yeah. The ending is pretty much crap because I was out of juice by then so... yeah. Hope you enjoy the fluffy cuteness of Spain/Nutella/Prussia xDD


It was a beautiful day in the neighbourhood! Actually, no, it wasn't. It was miserable outside. A huge thunderstorm had just rolled it's way in on a few unsuspecting countries. Locked inside their house with nothing to do but look at each other, the Bad Touch Trio sat on the couch in the center of their living room and did just that. Not only was there an elephantine thunderstorm wreaking havoc, the power was out. Perfect, right?

Sighing, a very bored and very irritated Prussian stood from his spot on the couch, grabbed one of the three flashlights on the table in front of the three friends, and stomped off to the kitchen. Coupled with an especially bad day, the storm, and the power outage, Gilbert was not about to sit there and starve on the couch with two idiots. But what could he eat while there was no power? Gilbert rummaged around in the pantry a bit, where all of the boxed, wrapped, and canned foods were til he stumbled upon his savior. Nutella. Although Gilbert thought a sandwich was the most distasteful and un-awesome thing on the planet, he was desperate. Plus, Nutella is the food of the Gods, the only thing awesome enough to be put on a sandwich and ingested by the almighty Gilbert.

With the Nutella in one hand, a knife in the other, and bread ready to be smothered with the chocolate-almond spread, Gilbert quickly made his... sandwich(Ugh, that horrible word)... and then proceeded to eat it. Propped up on the counter, legs crossed casually, Gilbert enjoyed his sandwich in peace. That is... until the quiet was broken by a rather loud Spaniard.

Antonio came stumbling into the kitchen, yelling something in Spanish through the swinging-double door that wasn't replied to. Antonio grinned as he regained his composure, walking up calmly to the albino. Gilbert had stopped mid-chew and was now looking at his friend with a look that could only be described as sassy. Antonio rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Francis sent me in here to check on you, amigo. Since you didn't return, he thought you might have hurt yourself or something... You know how he is, hombre." Antonio's soft Spanish accent actually managed to calm Gilbert down a little.

"Ze awesome me would never do something as stupid as get hurt in the dark. Aber ja, I know how Froggy is," Gilbert laughed his signature laugh and took a bite of his sandwich. "Oh, ¿qué es eso?" The Prussian smiled malevolently, seeing the look of curiosity and slight envy on the brunet's face. "A Nutella sandwich... Jealous, Tony?~" The smile was quickly replaced by a slight scowl when the German heard his friend's reply. "¿Qué es Nutella?"

"Nutella, mein lieber Freund, is the food of the Gods! The only food awesome enough for the awesome me to eat it on bread alone in this God forsaken weather!" Gilbert grabbed the open jar and held it out for his friend to try. Antonio made a face. "That stuff looks like meirda..." Shit. Gilbert took in an over-dramatized gasp. "How DARE you say Nutella looks like shit?!" Gilbert's temper went off like a firework. He was so scorned by what Antonio had said that he hardly noticed when said Spaniard took the jar of said offensive item and scooped a little onto his tanned finger.

The angry Prussian only stopped yelling when Antonio dabbed his Nutella laced finger onto his pale nose, leaving behind a smudge of the chocolate-almond spread. Slowly, Antonio leaned in and licked the Nutella clean off. The blush that spread across the flustered Prussian's cheeks was hard to miss, even in the dim light of the flashlight. Antonio simply smiled his warm, friendly smile. "I figured it would taste mucho mejor de ti~"

Still slightly flustered at Antonio's act, Gilbert grabbed his flash light, intending to stomp out of the kitchen and back to where Francis was most likely huddling in a ball, scared of the shadows, when Antonio grabbed his hand and spun him around. The embrace that followed was warm and soothing. Antonio leaned down and kissed Gilbert gently on the lips, making the Prussian's mind stop completely; something only Antonio could do. "I am sorry if I ruffled your plumas, mi amor..." Antonio murmured against his lips kindly.

Still blushing brightly, Gilbert nodded and then smiled. "It's fine." And then like that, the sweet moment was over, Gilbert once again on his way out of the kitchen. As he stormed through the double door, Gilbert was about to say something snarky about how he didn't need a mother and that Francis should stop being such a wuss when said blond tackled Gilbert to the ground, babbling rapidly in French, tears streaming from his eyes dramatically. After much laughter on Antonio's part, the Spaniard finally pried a hysterical Francis off of a once again, very irritable Gilbert.