I'd feel sorry for Germany, but- oh, who am I kidding, I find Germany's pain hilarious. (The chapters do get longer, I promise.)
Italy didn't enter Germany's home so much as the country barreled in. It was testament to how common such occurrences were that Germany merely looked long-suffering at Italy's entrance from the couch, even as he braced himself. Italy didn't disappoint and tumbled into him.
"Germanyyyyyy! D-d-d-demons!"
"What-" he managed to get out, before Italy steamrolled on.
"Or that's what Fratello says they are and he'd probably know best but he said he only really knows how to get rid of demonic possession and do blessings sort of and he sent me ahead so he could get Big Brother Spain and he also told me to tell you that 'if that potato-sucking bastard lets anything happen to you, I'll personally put out the hit on him' and Germanyyyyy."
He took a few, precious moments to massage at his temple, before he awkwardly removed a clinging Italy from his lap.
"Italy," he commanded. "Breathe." He waited until Italy had taken one gasping breath, two, before continuing. "Now again, and slower."
"There are demons," gasp, sniffle, "and Fratello went to get Big Brother Spain," vague gesture, "and he said 'if that potato-sucking basta-'"
He groaned and waved Italy quiet. "Yes, yes." Suddenly he found himself wishing for those times when Italy's panic had been over pasta, or the lack thereof. It had made slightly more sense than... all this.
He was quite possibly going mad, so of course his brother took that moment to enter.
"Oh hey, I thought I heard Italy's voice. Come to visit West again, huh?" It was an absentminded sort of question, and he had the vague hope that would be the end of it as Prussia rummaged for a beer. He didn't think he could deal with brotherly ribbing on top of everything else. The supernatural, combined with his brother- oh God.
But Italy was already nodding, somehow back on his lap again, and answering, "Yup! So Germany can protect me from the demons, ve~" and-
Three things happened then, a momentous second of horror that would live on in his brain forever.
-Prussia's head jerked up, barely missing the refrigerator door. "Demons?" the man asked, with far too much unholy glee.
-His hand clapped over Italy's mouth, too late.
-The sound of regretfully familiar cursing grew louder at an alarming pace.
The door slammed open and revealed three figures, two of them wielding old but familiar weapons that dripped with a substance that was not quite blood.
"Fratello! Spain! ...Big Brother France? Hi! I didn't know you were coming."
"Well, there is safety in numbers, non, Italy?"
"France! Spain! Fucking awesome!"
"Hi Prussia! Hi Italito! Hi Germany!"
"V-Veneziano! Get off that bastard's lap! You! How dare you get so close to him like that!"
"Oh God." Some days, it just wasn't worth it to get out of bed.
.
To be continued.