Authors Note: Starting to make authors notes from this chapter, and on that note sorry the chapters are so short! School has been ridiculously busy recently and I feel like I'm drowning in revision. I will update every chance I can, and hopefully we can get this up to a good body of chapters. Drunk Prussia is awesomest Prussia. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this and my story!

"If Life is an Olive, then Love is the pimento"

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Germany sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Sometimes he just couldn't believe Prussia.

"Bruder, they are going to have beer. Please put the glasses down."

He stared with a resigned look at his older brother, Who was precariously ( not to mention stupidly) attempting to transfer some of his beer into a massive flask for the evening, while spilling the frothy mixture all over the floor. The polished floor Germany had just put significant effort into cleaning. Sigh.

"But what If you're wrong, West? what if the awesome me is forced to spend an entire awesome evening without ANY beer?! I'm not taking any chances."

Prussia ignored Germany's last fuming sentence, and swaying on his feet continued to gargle and transfer the beer. Outside the sky was viscous and thick, as if It had been smeared with treacle. The moon shone like a luminescent coin.

"Prussia! Why would I specifically book a restaurant without knowing if it served beer!? Are you drunk already!? mein gott!"

"So what if I am, Bruder? I can handle my alcohol unlike some Germans! You talk like the awesome me is a lightweight!"

Germany continued to berate and bicker with Prussia, loudly sighing as he meticulously scrubbed the dirtied parquet floor to a sterile shine, his unusually high hopes for the evening already faltering. All the while the two brothers had been arguing, two other guests had been patiently waiting for them. France, who was leaning casually against the fridge with a bemused expression upon his face, and Spain who was grinning contentedly, until Germany barked at him in a voice like sandpaper to give him a hand and he rushed over, using one of Germany's bathroom towels to clean the liquid.

Why am I surrounded by Dummkopfs?... He thought miserably to himself, as Spain was now attempting to swim in the amber liquid, gleefully pretending to be a fish. Germany groaned.

However...he couldn't help a smile tug at his lips as the sudden thought of one guest in particular surged into his mind like water from a dam. He blushed lightly at the realisation of how often he had invaded his thoughts recently...and how... off-topic some of the entries for his purely professional 'understanding Italy' (to him the man was still a pasta-devouring enigma) diary had been.

Italy….I do hope he enjoys tonight, ja….he has been trying harder at training so in a way he deserves it...even though he still mass produces white flags, at least he isn't always running away any more….well he still runs away most the time, but that's not the-

Germany's dreamy inner monologue was interrupted as with a cataclysmic CLANG! Prussia finally toppled down onto the floor, laughing heartily into a puddle of beer. Spain and France burst out laughing in unison, and gently hoisted a rickety Prussia to his feet, who almost slipped and fell back down again.

"Steady, Amigo!" Spain laughed, keeping a firm grip on his friend " We don't want you to hurt yourself! "

"Non! that would be terrible! and before such a wonderful evening also..."

France after hauling Prussia along with Spain to one of the kitchen chairs, to which he protested since he could awesomely do it himself, turned his attention to Germany. Germany was still in a disconnected state, a dazzled,faraway look in his eyes. He'd seen that look many a time, cherished it on the chiselled faces of monsieurs and madams towards him, the beautiful French Casanova that he was. And chortled at the fact he knew exactly which adorable nation Germany was getting so hot and bothered about. ohohohohohoh.

"Thinking about someone, Germany?"

"w-what? Nein. Just cleaning, since my Bruder can't go a second without making a mess."

How did France know I was thinking about...someone? In fact I need to keep my eye on him tonight...Everyone knows he has a 'thing' for Italian boys… Germany squirmed in repulsion, as his mind was briefly invaded by the memory of everything Italy had innocently told him about the teachings of 'Big Brother Francis'.

" oh wait... I almost forgot Mes Amis! Germany….are the Italy Brothers still coming?"

He was practically salivating. Germany shivered in disgust, not quite realising or wanting to realise what France was hinting at.

"Ja. They're still coming, France. Italy's brother Romano….and Italy. Well, Romano hasn't tried to stab me like he claimed he would, so im assuming he's still coming."

Although Romano hadn't physically stabbed Germany, his intense loathing of him often did. He..just wanted to be a good friend to Italy...so why did he have such a problem with that? All I ever wanted to do was be a good…...friend….to Italy…

"Of course Italy's still coming, France! Mein Bruder practically does everything with him! If he wasn't there he'd probably cry!"

Prussia just narrowing avoided being 'punched in ze throat' as Germany turned a rather interesting shade of burgundy, the left temple in his forehead protruding violently. Spain suddenly cheerfully laughed a laugh so happy Germany was surprised it didn't have its own glowing meadow and 'chariots of fire' music to go alongside it.

"I can understand that Germany! Italy's so cute! although...Not as cute as Lovi! ahaha! Its so good that he's still coming, Si! I've missed him so much!"

"well Spain, we certainly could never have guessed that, Mon ami."

Spain looked up concentratedly at France in obvious confusion, blinking repeatedly. France could've predicted the hopelessly oblivious Spaniard's next words.

"Huh? Really? But Its all I've been talking about for days now!"

Spain rubbed his hands with glee, although he knew the first greeting to come out of his little tomato's mouth when he saw him would probably be 'Tomato Bastard' He was tangibly over the moon to be seeing him again. France raised his eyebrows and received a quizzical look.

"...never mind Spain."

Germany felt his stomach grumble as he checked his watch, breathing a sigh of relief as he was made aware that they were still going to make it in time.

"We should all get going then. I don't want to be late for my own reservation, Ja."

Germany pulled on his coat, gently stroking the fabric when a sentimental thought suddenly entered his mind.

I wonder if Italy liked that German Jacket I bought him…

And Germany continued to wonder this, as he piled into his car with the Bad Touch Trio ( With Prussia giggling and playing with the rear view mirror in the passenger seat, and France babbling about all the beautiful Women he had seen previously while going to this restaurant while Spain had decided randomly to have a siesta while muttering about tomatoes in his sleep) and warming up his vehicle, began to drive along the stretch of road bathed in synthetic amber light that eventually ran to the restaurant. The stars winked mischievously in the pitchness of the night sky, and Germany finally acknowledged that actually, he was feeling rather pumped about tonight, but mostly about getting to spend the evening with a certain Italian. Not that you could tell of course, as with the German's rigid expression and composure ( only a slight blush betraying him) he seemed as uninterested as usual. This was hardly the case.

I...uh, hope Italy did like it….What if he wears it?- he wont, he won't wear it…

Like a merry-go round of confusion, Germany's thoughts like the rain outside the car continued to fall, as he drove along the lonely highway, flashing beneath its amber glow.