The Awesome Chronicle Saga of Me

In Which Prussia Brutally Kicks History in the Balls

Warning: This fic contains some strong language and less than 1% of your daily value of actual history.

Coffee breaks; Germany relished them.

Those few, precious minutes in between conferences where he might satiate himself with a bit of caffeine and get his voice back after yelling at England and France to quit bitching over things that happened a long time ago. But there was always a catch- once in a blue moon, his older brother would extract himself from a sedentary lifestyle of gnawing on pork chops and watching Eurovision reruns long enough to accompany Germany to a meeting.

Though no longer a nation, Prussia was very much alive, and neither humbled nor, really, changed by the experience of having to sleep on Germany's couch. He never allowed himself to forget what he frequently called 'the good old days'. He would recount them any chance he got to any poor nation who happened to be in the vicinity- the meetings were their only respite, because no matter how much he might threaten and sob at the door, the conference room was still off-limits to him.

While Germany poured himself a strong drink of the non-alcoholic variety, Prussia found a chair and leaned back, tipping it at a dangerous angle.

"Man, I used to be so awesome..." he sighed. "Actually, I'm still kind of awesome, but these days nobody seems to appreciate that kind of thing anymore. You know what I mean?"

Germany shrugged, grunted, and added some sugar to his coffee, hoping against hope that would be the end of it.

However, Prussia continued.

"I used to kick ass. I mean, I didn't just used to kick ass- I used to kick it up and down the street and crying home to its mother- THAT's how I used to kick ass! Ass like Pretty Princess Poland's back in the good old days..." He glared moodily at the vaulted ceiling above him. "Who needed the goddamn Second Peace of Thorn anyway? I WOULDA HAD HIM!"

"You would not have come even close to having him." Germany said sensibly. "Lithuania had you outflanked and outnumbered."

Prussia made a noise like a cat attempting to swallow a pelican. "No. NO, West. You are definitely not remembering that right. Just... No. You got it all wrong, West. You get that history crap that they teach you in school. Well, I was actually there- and God, let me tell you, it was something..."

His eyes glinted roguishly. "Man, I had Poland down on his knees. I could have sliced him up five or six ways and served him on a dessert platter. And that Lithuania guy, he ran for the hills the second he saw me charge!"

"-he came back with reinf-"

"Hey! Are YOU telling this story?"

Germany frowned. "You can't be serious."

"I asked, West, are YOU telling this story?"

"...no." Germany sighed, massaging his temples. "I am not telling this story."

"No, no you're not." Prussia smiled with the smug look of a kindergartner. "Anyway," he continued. "It was a dark and stormy night-"

"It was a clear mornin-"

"It was a dark and stormy night... Just raining in buckets, West! BUCKETS! I had the goddamn Rhine flowing down the back of my neck from this stuff- and I gotta say, you know as well as I do that I look damn hot with my shirt wet, but it makes the armor chafe like all hell after the fact... So anyway, we start charging down the hill you know? We're all pumped because we totally had Jesus on our side to help us take out the other guys- the fucking cavalry was totally high on holy spirit and they went WHAM! RIGHT into the Polish line! Cut 'em straight down the middle and started ripping them like petals off of a daisy! And, of course, I was leading the charge. Hell yeah! Let me tell you, West, that was some crazy shit there... So now I'm not just soaked and freezing my ass off but covered in BLOOD and INTENSTINES and PANCREAS-"

"Pancreas?" Germany mouthed skeptically.

"-and I was taking out ten or twenty of them at a time!"

"..."

"When suddenly- that sneaky sonofabitch Liet comes up behind me! I'm completely off-guard- struggling- he catches me in a chokehold!"

"-Prussia, you would have been in full armor, that's not possible-"

"-but in my last, dying breath I managed to wrestle the sword out of his arm and kick him RIGHT IN THE FACE! BAM, bitches! Just like a pint of Bavarian lager! So- in conclusion, little bro, on that fateful day I singlehandedly saved your tiny little ass- the whole of the German confederacy- and Poland went off to cry in a corner and Lithuania became Russia's bitch forever and ever, the end."

"..."

"Oh and the awesome me lived happily ever after." Prussia amended, flashing him a thumbs up.

"...Prussia," Germany cleared his throat solemnly. "Nothing like that ever happened in the Thirteen Years' War."

"What? Thirteen? What are you even talking about? I distinctly remember there were seven years in this war. Give or take a year or two. God almighty, West. What would you do without me around to teach you your history?"

Slowly, with an air of defeat, Germany lowered his head onto the table and prayed that a meeting would start soon.