Apparently, this is the kind of stuff I write when I get low on creativity. Huh.

-HOW TO GET INTO YOUR ITALIAN'S PANTS-

Prussia had always liked Romano, even if he could be kind of a bitch. His insults and outbursts were funny. He was like a little Beagle trying to convince everyone that he was a Doberman, until a bigger, far more intimidating dog came along, and then he promptly rolled onto his back in surrender. He was harmless. Most of the mean things he said were just a front that he put on. His abrasive attitude annoyed some of the other countries, but Prussia didn't let it get to him. Romano was half of Italy, too, so he would always be special in Prussia's book.

Not a lot of people knew it, because not a lot of people paid attention to Prussia and Romano, since they both preferred to let their brothers handle actually managing a country and all that boring stuff, but the two of them were friends. Not as close as Spain and Romano. Or, hell, even Belgium and Romano. Their association was more of a consequence of their brothers' relationship, their mutual friendship with Spain, and a lack of anything better to do than talk to one another during meetings, or when Italy and West went on not-dates-but-so-obviously-dates.

Prussia enjoyed hanging out with Romano. And, though it took a while for the foulmouthed Italian to warm up to him, Prussia was sure that Romano liked hanging out with him, too. They shared a similar humor—they liked to make fun of other countries behind their backs and play stupid jokes on them. They teased their brothers for being so awful at hiding the fact that they were both itching to jump each other's bones, though Romano was more bitter about that than Prussia was. It was amusing as much as it was painful. Prussia could tell when Romano was lying, almost as well as Spain; Prussia was better than Spain at getting through the bullshit and figuring out what Romano couldn't say.

Yes, Prussia considered Romano a friend. Regardless of what anyone else might think, he had valuable qualities. One being, as Prussia realized more and more each time he hung out with him, that he was hot as hell. He had one of the best asses that Prussia had ever been tempted to squeeze. When he was distracted, he had this way of chewing on his lower lip that made Prussia want a nibble too. From the curves of his neck and down to his legs, there wasn't a single part of him that wasn't nice to look at.

Prussia relished a fair amount of ogling whenever the Italian was around, but there was no motivation behind it. Until there was.

A small, simple thought entered Prussia's mind once while he was with Romano. He later tried to think when and how it had happened, but he honestly couldn't remember. He only recalled that it was on one of those rare occasions when he caught Romano smiling. Not scowling. Not smirking. Smiling. It was insanely attractive. And then, the thought that changed things:

Bitch, I'm gonna make you mine.

Prussia had wondered for years what it would be like to fuck an Italian. They were the best lovers, he'd been told. He would have tried to get with cute little Veneziano a long time ago if the thought of it didn't make him feel like he was desecrating some holy place, and if West wouldn't surely murder him. No, North Italy was off limits, but that was fine. Prussia would gladly take the southern region's "southern regions" for himself.

Mission "Get Romano into Bed With Me" (working title) was clear—how to accomplish such a feat was not so much. Prussia wasn't going to force or trick Romano into it. He wouldn't do something that dirty, and not to someone he cared about. That meant he had to make the fiery Italian want him.

The more he planned, the more Prussia aimed to go all out. He didn't just want Romano to be willing. He wanted Romano to need him. Desperately. He wanted him on his knees and begging for it. That mental picture made Prussia's mouth water. The problem was, this was Romano, so...um...how exactly was he going to do this again?

Normally, Prussia found it entertaining to get inside that screwy head and figure the other nation out, but now he was wishing that Romano had come with a manual. One that included the section: How to Get Into Your Italian's Pants.

Prussia wasn't too tactical about these things. He didn't come right out and say, "I want to stick it in you, so, please?", but he leaned on the straightforward side of seduction. When Prussia called Romano "sexy" with a suggestive eyebrow dance, he expected a lot of blushing and stuttering, and maybe a sprinkling of curses. That didn't happen. As it turned out, Romano knew he was sexy, and he didn't need a potato-munching moron to tell him so, dammit. Those were Romano's words before he spun on his heel and strutted off, leaving Prussia speechless and strangely turned on.

This required a different approach than what Prussia had anticipated. Maybe a little sweeter, a little more flirtatious? Italy was one of those romantic countries, after all. Romano probably liked shit like that, whether or not he would admit it. Prussia looked Romano straight in the eyes one day and told him that he was the cutest little goofball that he knew. Romano responded by calling him an idiot, a rosy tint creeping across his cheeks.

"That's Veneziano's thing," he said, turning his face away. "If you want cute, go talk to him."

So, being called cute got to him. He clearly didn't believe what Prussia had told him and didn't think he could compete with his little brother. Well then, Prussia was just going to have to show him how wrong he was.

The next time Prussia saw Romano was in a world meeting. Prussia didn't usually go to things like that, and his brother warned him that he'd better behave if he was going to make an appearance. Prussia promised he would, not letting West in on the fact that he was only attending so he could continue Mission "Give Me a Slice of That Pizza Pie" (still working on the name).

The target was beside his brother, who sat with West and Japan, as always. The chair to Romano's left was open, and Prussia claimed it before anyone could swoop in and ruin his plans. As soon as the meeting started, Prussia stole a glance towards the object of his desire. Romano was biting his lip again and doodling in his complementary notepad, looking exceptionally bored.

Prussia tore a page from his own notepad and wrote a message—something innocent and mushy to start, but with an implicit something that he hoped Romano would pick up on. It seemed like the way to go with this guy. He slid the paper quietly over to the Italian.

Hello, gorgeous. Romano skimmed over the words and snorted. He didn't make a move to write anything back, so Prussia followed up with, Did you miss me?

The brunet gave him a questioning look and picked up his pen to scribble a response.

You flirt like a twelve year-old. You could just text me.

Oh, good. Romano was aware that he was flirting with him. And he wasn't headbutting him for it. Time to turn things up a notch.

West will notice if we're on our phones. This is actually more subtle, so long as you don't blow it.

Romano frowned at the note and wrote a furious reply. What makes you assume I'm going to be the one to give us away?

Because I'm obviously too hot for you to handle.

The return was in the form of an unnecessarily detailed drawing of Romano forcefully shoving tomatoes down Prussia's throat. The blond chuckled.

Kinky.

Bastard.

They kept the leaf of paper between them to deter the attention that too much movement would bring. Their colleagues had limited attention spans, especially in these meetings. Prussia and Romano pretended to focus on what was being said, only shifting hands and eyes to the paper when writing and exchanging occasional looks with each other. China had the floor at the moment, and everyone else was quiet. Probably half asleep. Considering these conditions, along with what Prussia's brain was hatching, things were about to get interesting.

You look bored, was Prussia's latest note. Want to have some fun?

You're making that face you always do before you start trouble. I'm worried about what you mean by "fun".

There's only one rule: Don't get caught.

Prussia gave Romano a chance to read that message before he let his hand fall on the Italian's knee. Romano stiffened. He studied Prussia closely while the older nation smirked and massaged his leg. A blush turned his tanned cheeks pink and he seemed confused. Prussia's hand glided a little up his thigh to make the situation clearer.

That did the trick. Romano wrote back.

No getting caught touching, or no getting caught aroused?

Either one will probably get us thrown out.

Everything is fair?

Show me what you got, baby. Prussia slid his hand even further towards Romano's crotch in challenge.

I have one more question, Romano scratched on the note paper, but I'd rather not write it down.

It was most definitely a trap, but Prussia was too curious to refuse. He leaned in when Romano beckoned him. Romano covered his mouth from view as if he was whispering a secret into his ear, but there were no words. Just a soft whimper that only Prussia could hear, Romano's hot breath, and then a tongue licking at his earlobe. Suddenly, Prussia could neither see nor think straight.

He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the moan that tried to escape. How was Romano seducing him when it was supposed to be the other way around? Oh well. Prussia was still getting what he wanted. And he hadn't lost just yet.

"Brother," Germany hissed at Prussia. "Are you paying attention?"

Prussia removed his hand from Romano's lap before West noticed. "Of course."

He could see Romano's smug grin in his peripheral vision. When Prussia turned back to him, he was jotting something down on the paper: How badly did that make you want me? Romano was getting into this game more quickly than Prussia had imagined he would. This was a pleasant surprise. He couldn't let Romano know that, though, in case he thought that gave him an advantage.

I'm not even breaking a sweat.

I bet you're dying to bend me over this table and fuck me right now, you pervert.

Oh, God yes.

I would, Prussia wrote, if there weren't so many people around. I don't think they'd want to see what I'd do to you.

What would you do to me?

He was getting all hot and bothered just imagining the dirty ways he wanted to get tangled up with Romano. Trying to write them down in proper sentences was impossible. Anything more than strings of stock sex phrases and vulgar sounds was beyond him. He needed to turn things around before Mission "Let's Just Get Naked and Grind Already!" got out of his control.

How would you react if I tried to touch you again, a little more directly this time?, Prussia asked.

Romano hesitated above the paper before he responded. I don't know. I might bite you.

Sounds hot. I'm gonna go for it.

Romano shot him a poignant look that read, "Don't you fucking dare," but Prussia still reached under the table and placed his hand firmly between Romano's legs. He reveled in the wide-eyed, tight lipped expression Romano made as he squirmed and clenched the arms of his chair. He tried to pry the hand away, but Prussia only punished him by applying more pressure. Romano laced his fingers in front of his face and stared ahead, doing his best to look composed and thoughtful, but his entire body was rigid and his face was a deep shade of red. He jerked each time Prussia gently squeezed him until he'd had all he could stand.

Romano wrote with a shaking pen, Cut it out or I'll cut yours off.

Prussia removed his hand so that he could write back. This is part of the game. Are you forfeiting?

What happens if I forfeit?

Prussia hadn't thought that part through, so he made something up. I just get to brag to everyone about how Germans are better than Italians at seduction. He was sure he saw something behind Romano's eyes snap when he read that.

Go choke on a potato, you bastard. This isn't seduction, this is public groping. And don't think that I was getting turned on by you. You were hurting me, is all.

Oh, whatever. Prussia had just had his hand on Romano's rock-hard dick, and he didn't need that to tell him Romano was totally into him. He was such a liar, but he couldn't fool the awesome Prussia. It was time for an ultimatum.

Touch me now.

Why?!, Romano asked. They ran out of space, so Prussia turned the paper over and continued writing.

It shouldn't bother you, since you have no interest in me. And if you want to win, then that's how you've got to do it.

I don't want to touch you.

Then forfeit.

Romano stared at the paper for a long time without replying. He put his pen down and folded his hands in his lap. He was giving up.

Well, that was disappointing, but Prussia had to look on the bright side. He'd found an excellent way to pass the time in an otherwise pointless meeting, and he'd made great progress with Romano. At this rate, he'd have his way with the temperamental nation in no time.

Maybe even sooner than I planned, Prussia thought when Romano unexpectedly brushed against his hip. Not exactly where he wanted his hand, but definitely a good sign. Maybe Romano just needed a little more coaxing. He was nervously inching his way closer, so Prussia decided to help him along. He took Romano's hand and pressed it against himself. Those olive green eyes darted around the room. Romano was embarrassed, but he didn't pull away.

Prussia was interested to see how far he could take him, and he was aching for more contact. He gave Romano a look, as if that would prepare him before he slipped the tanned hand underneath the waistline of his pants. Romano's expression passed from, "What is happening," to "I did not agree to this," to "I am going to kill you and your family, you son of a bitch," in a matter of seconds. It was too difficult for Prussia to care about the brunet's homicidal aura, though, when the feeling of him touching his skin was so delightful. Prussia was so absorbed in it that he didn't even notice the low noises it was drawing from him, or how strange they sounded to those sitting nearby.

"Um, excuse me...but, Prussia-kun and Romano-kun...?" A disconcerted Japan spoke above a whisper, just loud enough for those directly next to him to hear. Several pairs of eyes locked on Prussia and Romano. They'd been caught.

Prussia laughed awkwardly. "Oops."

"You lost, asshole!" Romano shouted, punching him. "Now let go of me!"

"Ve, Fratello? What are you doing?"

"What have you two been writing to each other?"

Romano flipped his shit when Germany reached for their note. He let out a shrill cry and dove for the paper. And then he ate it. Crammed the whole thing into his mouth and swallowed. He looked up to find that all the other nations around the table were gaping at him.

"What?" he snapped. "Go to hell."

To be continued...