Ahha, yeah, Go-chan and Haya are beasts bitches! XD Nah... we just don't have a life... at all... No we do, we just procrastinate on life XD Like, right now Haya should be doing her homework... But is instead Facebooking... Chatting with Go-chan... Rambling here... Working on the next chapter *cough* Don't start expecting this from us though... We're just beastly cause we're starting off x3 It'll slow down eventually... Maybe... Who knows, we have too much fun with this XD Heee~ Hmm... Think nothing else to say... Translations on bottom as last chapter x3 And review! :D We love it 333
Chapter Two: Ambush of the French Alcohol Party
When anger or annoyance sets in people tend to have an obvious sign of this state of being. Some grind their teeth, tighten their jaw. In the case of everyone's favorite German, it was a twitching eyebrow, furrowed dangerously low over narrowed eyes the color of cold, hard ice. He wondered, was the severe twitching in his brow audible?
The day before had been spent with his Italian friend. All of the items of Feliciano's 'Day of Fun with Doitsu~' had been accomplished. Eating gelato – a lot of gelato -, soccer, playing with stray cats, eating pasta, watching a movie, eating cookies… A lot of eating. Even a hardy German stomach had a difficult time withstanding it all. But he enjoyed himself, Ludwig admitted to himself now. Though it was all for naught when considering in what would eventually come of that day.
It was considerably late when he returned with Italy in tow. Well past ten he would say. Yet there was no sign of Prussia. At first this was nothing out of the ordinary, the albino had an unforgettable tendency to up and leave to go about his 'fucking awesome' ways. So, while Italy busied himself elsewhere in the house, Ludwig washed the left behind dishes and returned them to the cabinets. From there he found a little brunet pulling out a game of Monopoly, yet another activity he eventually caved and gave in to. At the conclusion of this it was already one AM – it had lasted such a long time due to his constantly having to stop and give the oblivious Italian another lesson in math – but still he did not fret. All the same he opted to wait up for his brother, likely from the urging Feliciano gave him. As a way to pass the time a movie was popped in for the two to watch from the couch. Three AM, an Italian was asleep on his shoulder and still no Gilbert in sight. Still no cause for worry? Maybe just a little…
Ludwig found himself stealing a glance to the front door at short intervals. Often times his brother took it upon himself to call up Ludwig – albeit drunkenly – to impart his whereabouts. No such call had been received…
In the morning the general jolted awake. Damn… The lack of sleep had gotten to him. He'd passed out waiting for Gilbert to get home. With a risen brow he looked to the blanket thrown over him, later to be explained by the Italian that had then been cooking him breakfast merrily. But there was no white haired, red eyed egotist asking for a morning hug, or bugging him about food, or ranting about a night out drinking.
This is what brought Germany to where he was now, this series of events. Once finished with the prepared meal – a good one, at that – he and Italy departed on the epic of search for his brother. None of the local bars offered him up with annoyance, nor the hotels. All the while a forming lump in the back of the blonds through became near unbearable, as did the constant twitching of his stern brow.
Gilbert's land had been dispersed years back. When this occurred to Rome and Germania they had disappeared. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Ludwig had always hoped his brother would be safe from this fate for some reason. Had he… Had he really disappeared into thin air? Could that have happened without his knowing? With his opening of the door to France's home – why was it unlocked? – maybe a little part of wished Gilbert had up and left the face of the earth…
The sight inside was to say the least one that raised questions. Sprawled across the entryway of France's house were three naked males. The centerpiece of the tangled limbs was Prussia, clad in his motorcycle goggles, his Iron Cross necklace, and what looked like a leather thong of sorts. Half of him was laying atop a certain nude Frenchman, the other half cushioned by an almost just as naked Spaniard, for he still had his unbuttoned shirt at least. Both of Prussia's cushions were latched onto his arms and their legs were intertwined, as if they had fallen asleep in the midst of restraining the albino.
But, their peculiar position did not end there. France's free arm was draped across Prussia's torso, his hand ending right at the elastic strap of the albino's undergarment. There was an almost smug expression on his lecherous face as he snuggled into his captured Prussian's neck. Spain on the other hand was innocently nuzzled into Prussia's side, an idiotic grin on his dreaming face. Prussia's expression was peaceful, perhaps too peaceful and relaxed for one in his situation. His jaw hung open as he breathed heavily in his deep sleep, drool running down the side of his face. A trio of idiots was the sight that met Germany and Italy.
Was it possible for one to stop breathing, stop all bodily functions for a fair few moments and still remain perfectly fine as if nothing had happened later on? Maybe it was for countries… Though I wouldn't say Ludwig pulled out of this state suspended between life and death completely ordinary. Oh no…
First it was the shocked silence, then it was the grinding of teeth, severe twitching and dangerous furrowing of brows. Ludwig had always had an idea of what happened when Prussia was out with his friends. Drinking, games. It was France, after all. But he always kept it far from his mind. And Gilbert always called, always came back! Didn't make Germany… No, he hadn't been worried in the slightest. Just wanted to know for how long he'd get to cook for one. And here he was, face to face with what really happened when the Bad Touch Trio got together!
"Italy." The blinking boy jumped to attention at his name. While his blond counterpart had gone through two separate stages of shock, he himself had simply been standing there with an innocently questioning look, head tilted and eyes blinking. Before he was given much reaction time a cell phone was shoved into his hands. "Start calling your brother."
And so he did as he was told, dialing in the number to his twin brother's cell. As this took him a while – he can't tie his own shoes, you expect him to regurgitate a string of numbers in a short time? – he had time to notice the German's actions. Clothes were collected. At least, those that belonged to the Prussian. It really wasn't hard to tell which those were.
Returning with folded articles in hand, Germany took the offered phone and brought it to his ear while it rang. Once it was picked up, he treated one brother the same as the other. No possible time to react. "Spain is at France's with a considerable lack of clothing after a night drinking. Come get him." And the phone was hung up…
It probably wasn't possible for an Italian to move faster, even with an entire squadron of British troops on his flanks. Southern Italy, more affectionately known as Italy Romano, came running into France's house in a matter of minutes. His face was consumed by a furious blush, tears brimming in his eyes. "BASTARD ANTONIO!" He screeched as he pounced on the Spaniard.
Stradling Spain's torso on his knees, Romano started smacking his face yelling about how much he hated him and how stupid he was.
The initial shout lightly tugged the Spaniard towards the door to the waking hours. The sudden weight on his frame and attack of his visage shoved him through it. "Halto! Halto, por favor!" After a few choice blows from the little Italian he managed to capture his hands and sit up to restrain him in his lap, whimpering with a hurt expression. "Mi amigito, por qué estás haciendo este? Porque, mi Romanito?" The dark skinned male pleaded.
"… Pain." Antonio moaned, releasing his little Romano in favor of gripping his head of chocolate curls. The night of excessive drinking giving way to the morning of varying attacks to his cranium? Not a good mixture. "Porque?" The grown male whined.
"Don't porque me you bastard," Romano muttered with a scowl. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest and tears were threateningly close to rolling down his cheeks. Biting his lip, Romano glared at Spain as the blush on his cheeks darkened. "I wanted to hang out last night but you never picked up your phone! And here I find you like this! I hate you!"
As this was going on Ludwig tossed the gathered clothing over the face of his slumbering brother, kicking his leg none too gently. "Wach auf, Bruder. Jetzt," he ordered, still giving off an extremely angered and annoyed aura.
Prussia jerked awake as pain shot up his leg. "Fucking," he groaned, groggily sitting up, but instantly froze as he realized there was a hand touching his vital regions. It took a few moments for the thoughts to connect in his half-asleep mind. He looked down at France, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully, then back at the hand in his lap. All it took to wake up the Prussian was a firm squeeze on his vital regions.
"FUCKING RAPIST! You aren't asleep!" Prussia yelled, twisting away from the Frenchman to kick him in the face.
Grinning lecherously, France's eyes popped open as he rolled away to dodge Prussia's kick. "Aaah but mon Prusse! I couldn't help myself! I was hoping I could give chéri Lovino a hint for his next course of action! Antonio must be wanting Lovi to cure his throbbing head!"
Upon hearing his name, Romano looked over to France only for his gaze to shoot back to Spain. Or more specifically, down at Spain and his lack of pants. Spluttering incoherent curses and words of embarrassment, Romano jumped off of the Spaniard and backed away. "You're no better than that bastard France!" He screeched, his hands covering his face in embarrassment.
Snickering, Prussia looked away from the blushing Italian to see his brother standing over him, radiating a rather terrifying aura. Just noticing him for the first time since waking up, Prussia jumped and stared with wide eyes. "West? Where'd you come from? What are you doing here?"
Flames. There were flames sprouting from the background to add to the rage he exuded then. Maybe a few blue tinted ones in his eyes as well. "Get dressed." No answer to any posed questions. Of course not, if he did Ludwig just knew he would rant for hours. No, not in front of the others. That could wait until they were home. Until he wasn't staring at a group of stupid, naked men. The one of which had garnered for himself the majority of the glares being Francis. Was that killing intent when the German's gaze shifted in his direction?
Flames seemed to be a common trait in the room. Romano had his fair share lighting his cheeks, hardly restrained by the hands held over them. Antonio couldn't bring himself to comment on just how cute and adorable the face was, for he was too upset and panicked by infuriated Italian. In the great fervor to fix things Antonio tripped and fell face first into the floor in trying to stand and run to his little Romie. When he brought his head up from the carpet he was nearly bawling. Had he actually missed some time to spend with his little love? And now said creature was positively irate. Not that this was anything new…
"Romanito..." In a flurry of dark skin and moving cloth the Spaniard tugged on his cast about clothes so he could properly throw his arms around a blushing Italian with a slight less chance of more physical abuse. "Perdoname, perdoname, perdonameeeeee."
"Fucking idiot…" Romano muttered, burying his face into Spain's shoulder. He peeked around Spain's torso at the rest of the room. Germany looked ready to kill a certain blond as his brother struggled to get to his feet to get dressed as ordered. France was completely unabashed by his naked state and didn't even seem slightly disturbed by Germany's killer intent. Rather, he had a scary look of his own… As if he was planning something…
Romano shuddered and pulled away from Spain muttered, "This place is unsightly…" He turned on his heels and grabbed Spain's hand, prepared to drag him out of the house, but stopped in his advance. There was yet another idiot here. There was his brother, smiling stupidly behind Germany and being uncharacteristically quiet. "What are you doing here?" He glowered, grabbing Italy's hand as well en route to the door. He shot one last glare to the remaining nations before dragging his brother and friend out the door his voice loud enough to be heard as they left, "And don't think I'm not still mad at you bastard Antonio!"
Laughing loudly, Prussia finally stumbled onto his feet and grabbed his clothes from Germany's hands. "Antonio just needs to fuck that kid, hard. He obviously has a lot of pent up sexual tension!" He exclaimed, leaning against his muscular brother to keep his balance as he pulled his pants on.
France chuckled in agreement and his gaze did not leave Germany's fiery eyes, despite speaking to his friend. "We should get Antonio to bring along Lovi next time! It'd be fun. Hey, maybe even Ita-chan could come along!"
"Ha! Two drunk Italy's? We'll definitely get kicked out wherever we go!" Prussia straightened his goggles, now completely dressed, and looked up at Germany. "So West, what are ya' doing here anyways?"
With the contact and speaking of his brother Germany broke the long held gaze of Francis. The staring contest was done, and we would forever refuse to admit the blond as the victor. Flames were subdued in part with his gaze sliding from one nation to the other, while it could still be classified as a glare. The departure of Feliciano was regrettable indeed. It was with his presence that Ludwig held the ability to restrain himself from the outburst pawing at the surface that was his patience and above all else, his pride. Military men did not worry to the extent he had… Hadn't.
"Für dich, what else?" Shoulders squared, feet planted firmly on the floor and a small distance apart. He stood unwavering and unflinching under the gaze of a Frenchman and the weight of a Prussian. "You said you would clear away the feathers of your pet whenever it becomes a problem. At least do that so I can clean your room." Nice save, Luddy. Build the façade of doing this only for the purpose of fulfilling your OCD tendencies instead of divulging the truth that was your need to do so to forget the entire reason for your coming. Worry, I tell you, worry! Fear of losing a brother.
"Eh, I said that?" Prussia stared at Germany in disbelief. How had he succeeded in making the ever so lazy Prussian agree to clean something? Maybe he was still dreaming… Or still drunk! Oh yeah, that'd definitely make the most sense… "Hey, where is Fritz?"
"Probably in that bird nest called your hair," France replied with a disgusted sigh, crossing the small distance between him and the Germans. With a smug grin directed to Germany, the blond grabbed the belt loops of Prussia's jeans and pulled him close to rifle through his mussy hair. Sure enough, the Frenchman carefully extracted a sleeping little yellow fluff ball. How Fritz was capable of remaining in Prussia's hair all the time had yet to discovered.
Grinning, Prussia reached for Fritz as he said, "There you are you little shit!" Upon hearing his owner's voice, Fritz peeped and realized he wasn't snug in silver locks. Grumpily, he pecked at France's hand and flew back onto Prussia's head. "Good boy!" Prussia exclaimed with a laugh at France's shocked expression. He paused for a second, and then glanced to Germany.
"Oi, hey," he leaned up to whisper in France's ear. "We didn't plan anything! And now Antonio is gone!"
Although Germany had broken their last staring contest, Francis knew the German was staring this way again now that Prussia was next to him. Staring at the man with a haughty expression, Francis leaned down slightly so his mouth was at Prussia's ear. In the same movement, he slipped a hand into the back pocket of those tantalizing leather pants. "I'll talk it out with Antonio, hm?" He said in a low whisper. His voice rose as he added, "I'll give you a call Gils."
"Wicked," Gilbert said with a grin, then seemed to realize the pressure against his buttox. "Aw fuck Francis. Quit that and get some clothes on!" Prussia yelled, punching his friend on the shoulder and moving out of his reach. "Fucking exhibitionist. Christ!" With a roll of his eyes, Prussia left the blond's side to bounce up next to his brother. Latching onto Germany's arm, the albino looked up with a beaming smile. "Hee~eey Wee~eest! I'm hungry! Remember how you said you were gonna make me pancakes for breakfast today?"
The formerly relatively silent Ludwig released a short lived sigh as his first response. A smidgen of the tension had been released with that rush of warm air. Shoulders rose and fell futilely in his doing so, and his eyes were veiled momentarily to allow a small change in expression as well. When reopened, the brows were less furrowed. Calm, he was slowly calming down. Prussia had moved away from Francis, after all. Though that parting statement left him wondering…
"Ich glaube, es war nein to that. There was never an agreement to pancakes." A glance to the side, biting of the inside of his cheek. "Maybe… If you clean the feathers."
He shook his head of those thoughts. Slipping his arm from Prussia's grasp, Germany turned to exit the premises and hopefully forget this entire thing had happened. But not without one last icy toned, flaming glare at the Frenchman whom he blamed to be the cause of his entire night and morning being ruined.
With a triumphant laugh, Prussia waved to France and pranced after his brother, latching onto his arm again as they exited. "Pancakes! I knew West was my favoritest brother for a reason! Hey, how'd you get here West? I robe my bike! I have my spare helmet, wanna ride on the back?"
France watched the two leave, a smile on his lips. What a humorous mental image that was, Germany riding behind Prussia on the bike. The nude blond stretched with a yawn, rather pleased with the events of this morning. From the way Germany was acting, France had a feeling the true objective of his and Spain's involvement with Prussia's insane mission would be easier than expected... Looking down at himself, France's grin grew as he pondered aloud, "I wonder what Iggy is up to~"
Chapter Two End
Translation time, lovies! Tia, don't kill me! *hides* I fixed it, I fixed it!
Wach auf, Bruder. Jetzt = Wake up, Brother. Now
Für dich = For you
Ich glaube, es war nein = I believe it was no
Halto! Halto, por favor = Stop! Stop, please
Mi amigito, por qué estás haciendo este = My little friend, why are you doing this
Porque, mi Romanito = Why, my Romanito. The latter is a nickname. You see, the suffix –ito is used to make it small, or cute, in the male form
Perdoname, perdoname, perdonameeeeee = I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorryyyyyy
Haya just wants to say two things before this officially ends... Review! Haya and Go-chan really do love reviews, they make our day! You have no idea! ... Haya also wonders if Romano is going to take care of poor Antonio's throbbing head *runs away snickering*