Chap I – The Absolute Rule
The Bad Touch Trio is well known for its timeless loyalty and friendship. Even when wars divide them, France, Spain and Prussia always work out their issues and their bonds never falter. Neither time nor war could break this trio apart.
But there is something that could.
Just one thing: Breaking the Absolute Rule.
It was just an average party in America. They were all gathered for some reason or another but if you asked England, he'd just say it was a whim of the American and nothing more. Talking about England, the blonde of emerald green eyes so uncharacteristic was chatting lightly with Prussia and Denmark, beer in hand and his cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. He wasn't drunk. It takes a lot of alcohol in his system to get him drunk. The problem is that he rarely stops himself before that point and ends up both wasted and penniless the next morning. But enough of that! Let's return to our party …
America, the host of the night was entertaining Japan and China under the smiling face of Russia. I say entertaining but if you asked China, all he wanted was to punch the obnoxious host. Russia was plainly enjoying the sight of America getting into an argument with China. Japan was quietly watching, used to it all that he didn't feel the need to stop them. His dark empty gaze washed over the room and caught the sight of his friend Italy calling for him by the side of his brother and Germany. With a small smile, Japan excused himself but nobody paid him attention, and he walked up to the Italian.
"Ve! Japan! How are you? I haven't seen you in forever!" Italy hug-crushed him as per usual. Japan stiffened under the touch, despite being used to such actions.
"Hello Italy-san, how are you?"
"Italy! You're going to suffocate him!" Germany intervened, responsible and serious as he always is.
"Oi, get your hands off mi fratellino, potato bastard!" Romano piped up, getting irritated by just the mere presence of the German. To say that Romano/South Italy hated Germany is an understatement. The only person he seemed to hate more than the blonde German was his albino brother Prussia. At the very least, Romano could tolerate Germany hang around his little brother but if it were Prussia, he would go on a rampaging fit. Probably because the Prussian always attempted to flirt with the youngest Italian and it bothered Romano very very much!
Glaring angry amber eyes on the German, Romano's gaze narrowed on Germany's hands on Feliciano's shoulders. He clicked his tongue as if in a warning. Germany's icy blue eyes glanced at the oldest twin and he sighed in exasperation, letting go of his friend. By now, Veneziano had already let go of Japan so it did not matter anymore. Japan smiled thankfully at his friend then bowed politely to them all as a greeting. His dark eyes were watching Germany and Romano's interaction with deep interest.
If you asked Japan about nations relations with one another, he would have a ton of facts … and a ton of suppositions. One of his favourite is a love triangle between Veneziano, Germany and Romano. It's plausible. If Veneziano did actually love Germany. Or if Germany did actually love Veneziano. Or if Romano did love Germany. It would be fine, except they don't.
"Romaaaaaa! I'm so glad to see you! How is my little tomato?" Romano jumped in dread as he felt strong tanned arms snake around him and lift him up in the air and buried him in a large chest. The Italian cursed and struggled but the laughter of his aggressor only seemed to get louder.
"Antonio, I think you're suffocating your henchman! Might want to let him go now?" France laughed as he tapped his friend's shoulder. With a bright nod, Spain released his ex-charge, smiling brightly at the angry-red Romano cursing and yelling back at them.
Japan smiled pleasantly as he greeted the two nations. Germany curtly nodded at them, his eyes glancing in Spain and Romano's direction, seeing them ignoring everyone else, so he settled his gaze on the French … who was already hugging Italy with a fond brotherly grin on his face. Veneziano was more than happy to hug the French back, chatting very rapidly in Italian to him and Francis answered with ease in French. Germany face-palmed at the two latins, wondering why he was friends with such touchy, happy-go-lucky, way too easy-going people. But the tall blonde only smiled with a shake of his head and waited for France to end his conversation with Italy, trying to follow their fast pace but failing.
"Oi! Francis! Antonio! Kesese! You guys came too?"
Both nations looked up and grinned excitedly as they met the bright ruby eyes of Prussia. The albino was walking towards them with a pint of beer in each hand. His brother frowned at that but said nothing. He just hoped Gilbert would not go overboard with the drinking. Romano rolled his eyes and hissed in irritation at the approach of the Prussian while his younger brother cheerfully welcomed the albino with a hug. Japan bowed politely and received a cheeky grin in return. The Self-Proclaimed Awesome Prussia strolled and grabbed each of his two best friends by their shoulders, his beers threatening to fall out in his movement.
"I'm borrowing them, West! Kesese! Let's hit the bar!"
"If you spill that beer on my clothes, I'm going to make sure you never drink beer ever again!" Francis warned him, as he watched the balanced beer in Gilbert's hand hanging over his shoulder.
"Amigo! It's been a while! I can't remember the last time we got together like that!" Antonio smiled cheerfully, mediating between the other two as they started up an argument. It always was his job to be the peace-maker between France and Prussia. Otherwise, they would get into fights all the time. Not that it was a problem but occasionally they needed to hold back or they'd be kicked out and banned of every single pub they encountered! And that equals to very many!
"West is being such a jerk!" Prussia moaned, half in a drunken daze, half vaguely aware that he should be complaining about his brother but couldn't remember why.
"He's just worried about you! And I don't get why!" Francis chuckled, being the laughing drunk he usually is, although push the wrong button and you will not have him laughing for much longer.
"Romaaaa hates meeeeeeeee!" Antonio whined like a pathetic kicked puppy.
"Yeaaah! He does!" Francis answered with a tease, enjoying himself as he just agreed to everything the other two complained about!
"Yeah? Well, England hates you too!" Prussia challenged with a victorious grin and it took him a second to realise he had pushed the wrong button … again.
Francis' face turned instantly murderous and his blue eyes cold and merciless as he pressed his forehead against Prussia's.
"What did you say?"
Gilbert felt a shiver but the thrill and adrenaline of a fight boiled in him. He smirked challengingly back and whispered the words in a taunting manner.
"Your cute little master … hates … you!" He purred the words.
"You are dead!" Francis roared but before either of them could get into a real fight, Antonio intervened (though accidentally because he was that drunk- normally he would not risk getting in the other two's way).
"… Who's that over there dancing?"
Francis and Gilbert both looked up towards the dance floor and had to squint their eyes to see. Their vision was already poor in the dark lighting of the room, but their hazed fog of alcohol did not help in any way. Eventually, Francis' eyes spotted the familiar figure and his happy-drunk face returned.
"It's Little Master! He's dancing! So cute! Wait! Wait! Why is he not dancing with Big Brother?! Who's the idiot he's dancing with?! Not America, please not America!"
"Hermano …" Antonio whispered in a dull cold tone that did not suit his usual happy personality. His olive green eyes were narrowing on the couple dancing.
"Portugal … Ok then." Francis slumped back in his seat, seemingly settling down but … then grinded his teeth at the way Portugal's arm was lowering down Arthur's back very purposefully.
"Changed my mind!" The Murderous-Drunk Francis jumped out of his seat and charged to "Save his little brother!"
Gilbert sighed, disappointed that his fight never happened. He heard a glass shatter and glanced knowingly back at his friend. The dark furious look on Antonio's face was comparable to Francis'. Although the Spaniard's was slightly more aggravated and terrifying.
"You already knew it was Arthur and your brother. That's why you told Francis. You knew he'd intervene." Prussia groaned, slowly regaining his soberness.
Antonio blinked and reluctantly looked away from the satisfying sight of France beating up Portugal under the outraged protests of England. The Spaniard narrowed a quizzical gaze on his Prussian friend and his bright cheerful smile returned.
"What are you saying amigo? Why would I ever do that?" Antonio spoke innocently.
"Yeah … why indeed." Prussia smirked as he ordered another drink but his expression became serious instantly.
"I know you hate your brother. And I don't care if it pleases you to ruin his chances with other nations just for the sake of it. But I hope you remember the Absolute Rule." Gilbert warned his friend. Antonio just dismissively waved his hand, shrugging.
"Si, si! I know! Like I'd ever be interested in that diablo ingles!"
"Hm …" Prussia nodded, hopping with all his might that Antonio was confident of his words and would stick to them. After all, if he dared to break that rule … it would be unforgivable.
"The rule … You guys actually follow rules?" Austria's proper tone of voice interrupted the two drunkards and only one of the two offered the Austrian a smile while the other was growling in irritation.
"Hola Austria! I didn't know you came too!"
"Prissy Aristocrat …"
Austria ignored Prussia's attitude as he was so used to it and focused his attention on Antonio.
"What rule could you three devils even accept to abide by?" he inquired, curious by the seriousness Gilbert had shown earlier concerning "the Absolute Rule". He really wondered what kind of limiter these three could possibly have! They are known for breaking every rule they come across.
"What's it to you?" Gilbert snarled, gulping down his beer.
"I'm just curious as to what could hinder your little group that you'd actually consider it an unbreakable rule." Roderich shrugged, already accepting that he would probably not get an answer. To his surprise, Gilbert was the one to answer while Antonio remained quiet.
"No dating out of bounds." Gilbert spoke in a solemn manner. Antonio seemed disinterested in the Germanic nations' discussion and his eyes darted back to Romano who was arguing with his brother and Germany again. He smiled fondly.
"Out of bounds …?"
"Yeah! Relax, prissy aristocrat! You're not out of bounds! Don't get too conceited!" Gilbert began laughing loudly as Roderich's expression remained both disturbed and confused.
"Then who is … out of bounds?"
"For me, it's West!" Prussia smiled softly at the mention of his brother. "For Antonio, it's obviously Romano! And for Francis, it's … well, see for yourself!" He laughed and pointed at the now arguing England and France. It was clear that France cared a lot for England, more so than any other nation. After all, he only acknowledged England as his sworn little brother and nobody else.
Austria nodded, finally understanding the strange rule. No dating out of bounds. Makes sense. Since for each of those three nations, tied through life by a friendship unbreakable, only one thing could possibly break them apart. Targeting family is out of bounds. Targeting brothers is out of bounds.
Makes perfect sense.
Roderich smirked and walked away, leaving the drunken trio (Francis had joined them after getting scolded by England). He was curious to see how these three actually fare with a rule when they are known incapable to follow any rule. It's going to be interesting …