italics - the awesome narrator voice only when i feel like it, (okay i have decided the narrator lady is going to be based on another bestie of moi. PRINCESS PUG!
England/Arthur Kirkland
France/Francis Bonnefoy
Germany/ Ludwig Beilschmidt
America/Alfred F. Jones
Rhodesia/ Kylie Greene (OC!) based on the bestie of besties
Ireland/ Marybeth O'Neil(OC!)based on one of my besties
Prussia/ Gilbert Beilschmidt
Austria/ Roderich Edelstein
Spain/ Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
Romano / Lovino Vargas called Roma or Lovi by Spain required by law!
Sicily/ Marcus Vargas Carriedo (OC!) soooo adorable
Indian Prime Minister / Rajini Khanth (my Fav. Tamil actor)
Indian Prime Minister's Wife/ Janani Khanth
New Delhi 12:30 pm
They had to or rather Germany had to carry Prussia off the plane and out into the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun over New Delhi, capitol of India.
Once they entered the cool airport interior, Germany rushed off to the closest bathroom. He awkwardly stood Prussia on his feet and bent him over at the waist and placed his head in the sink. He turned on the faucet and stood back.
"HAFF GUPH-!" Prussia gasped and choked as water entered his throat. He staggered away from the sink retching, his silver hair dripping water all over the tiled floor. Then he froze all of a sudden, "I'm sorry Roddy! Honestly! I'm so so-"
He noticed the tall muscular blonde man leaning casually against the wall, smirking at the fact that this was the first time he had heard his brother apologize to someone. Ever.
Not even the time that the albino had stabbed Germany literally in the back with a butter knife. Now that had hurt. But Prussia had just laughed, "Ksesese! West you are not as tough as the awesome me are ya?" and had promptly been punched in the face by his livid bruder, making him see stars.
Suddenly Germany was reminded something as he thought about apologies. The lump returned to his throat.
"Bruder?" he had test waters so he said it in a soft voice that he knew his bruder recognized as a tone to be taken seriously.
Prussia snapped out of his reverie and looked at his bruder's face to see the weirdest expression cross his face. Almost... wistful?
He raised an eyebrow in question.
Germany took a deep breath, "Is it true Austria's pregnant? I'm going to be an... uncle?"
Prussia wanted to smirk but his bruder looked like he really wanted to get something awkward off his chest and the slightest sign of amusement would shut him off. So he just nodded, "Yeah, with freaking triplets. We only just found out last week and he didn't want anyone to know. He didn't even tell me they were triplets. I found out when I scheduled a secret appointment with our doctor. And to answer your question, yes you are automatically signed up for babysitting duty."
Germany unconsciously raised the corners of his lips as he nodded. He hesitated and then opened his mouth to say something. But then closed it again. Then opened it again. The closed it again making him look like a gaping fish.
Prussia peered at West with curiosity. He had never seen Germany act like this. So uncertain... so... vulnerable.
"Just tell me. I'm going to become a father, and I need to get help maturing ya know? Promise no laughing." he continued a bit softly, "I'll listen to you bruder."
Germany decided to blurt it out, "I feel... vhut is the word?... Lonely! I want someone like you have Austria!" he clapped a hand to his mouth, looking like the child he never was.
Prussia smiled gently, "Bruder, there are so many people out there. You'll find someone you will never have to explain your actions to."
With a gentle pat on Germany's shoulder, he left the bathroom.
Germany smiled to himself. He was really glad Prussia did not laugh. The unconscious smile back on his face he followed his bruder out of the bathroom.
Outside America, Ireland, England, Kylie, France, Canada, Spain, Romano, Marcus, Prussia, and Austria were milling around luggage claim looking for mostly France's bags. Ireland was walking around with a Guinness can (okay at this point Germany was BURNING with curiosity. Where the hell is she getting these?)
Finally everyone had found all fifteen bags France had brought, and got around twenty bribed officers to carry all luggage for them.
They attracted many weird looks, raised eyebrows, and annoyed mutters. A German, a pervert, an American, an alcoholic, a Rhodesian, a rapist, an invisible man, an englishman with-a-stick-rammed-up-his-ass, a pedophile carrying a baby, a tsudere, and an Austrian walked peacefully through an airport... haha *weak chuckling as you are more scared than amused*.
Germany and the gang got to skip all securities and paperworks again.
Grrrrr.
As he walked to the exit he spotted a sign that said Ludwig Beilschmidt held up by a tuxedo with an impressive beard and purple turban.
Germany nudged Prussia and tilted his head towards Tuxedo. Prussia nodded and Germany pulled ahead and started walking towards Tuxedo.
~Tuxedo's point of view ~
Girish Swamichandran was a highly educated man, and was Senior Assistant/lawyer to the Indian Prime Minister, so why the hell was he at the airport on the look out for a tall blonde German like some common driver.
Oh and speak of the Gowravas, here comes the mentioned German, behind him the weirdest group of people. Girlish smirked, he felt pity to the driver who had to cart them off. It seemed half of them were arguing and he other half was engaging in disgusting PDA.
India, home of the prudes, only after Austria, but still no hand holding boys and girls.
Suddenly the entire group started to turn and head his way, following the German. Girlish nearly fainted. Today just wasn't his day was it?
~back to our favorite German~
Aaaah. He was really losing his grip wasn't he. First forgetting about he world meeting and now forgetting to mention he wasn't a party of one sane person but tewelve complete lunatics (at least when together).
He quickly made his way over to Girish who seemed very pale, his dark eyes fixed on the group that had come to stop and arguing behind Germany.
"Hello?" Germany stuck out his hand to the Tuxedo, who took it, looking ready to faint and murmuring something that sounded oddly Iike, "Sai ram. Sai ram."
At the pm's house
They had to take three limos to the Prime Minister's house. Germany counted himself immensely lucky as he sat with England, Kylie, and Austria. Others like Canada and Marcus were stuck with the... For lack of better word, others.
Canada, the poor traumatized fellow, had managed to get stuffed with Prussia, France, and Spain. And Marcus, a car with Romano, America, and Ireland (who had started drinking from her magical (yes it has been decided to be established as magical) Guinness can while waiting for the poor driver to finish loading France's luggage into the limo blocking theirs). Out of the two, Germany wasn't sure who had worse. Canada in a confined place with the Bad Touch Trio (they probably took turns raping him), or Marcus who had to deal with Ireland's horrid off-key, ear-raping singing, America's obnoxiousness, and Romano's potty mouth.
Germany decided Canada, I mean nobody deserved to be raped. And if Marcus was anything like Spain (personality wise he completely was) he probably would just obliviously chew on his pa-ta. (Marcus talk for his pasta doll).
They arrived at the Prime Minister's house in half an hour. A magnificent white mansion surrounded by a garden so exotic it was almost surreal.
And Germany also urgently needed to pee.
Immediately jumping out of the limo, he asked directions to the closest available bathroom.
~America's point of view~
America was seriously contemplating something for a change. He was actually burning with curiosity about this one thing-scratch that-two things that had been plaguing him ever him since he was introduced to the indian Prime Minister, Rajini Khanth.
One was OH MY GOD I WANT A TURBAN (even though Rajini Khanth doesn't wear one) and OH MY GOD I TOTALLY DIG THAT BEARD!(even though Rajini Khanth doesn't even have one but I'm pretty sure you know what kind of beard I'm talking about? ¿Sí? )But could it be fake? America has to know.
~Germany's point of view~
When Germany returned from the bathroom, and entered conference room 3, he just about died.
Since this was Rajini Khanth's private house or rather mansion, he decided to meet the countries in private. That means just himself. No assistants, officers, family, or friends. Or... security.
Spain and Romano were cuddling or rather, Spain had his arms wrapped around Romano while the Italian yelled abuse and pretended he didn't like Spain's sexy tanned arms around him. To their right France was speaking heatedly to confused Canadian, for some reason. Prussian was being treated to the Austrian version of bitch slapping : playing a piano that had somehow appeared in the room. Ireland had started up on the drinking songs again, and England and Kylie were playing tennis. (Germany could hear from where he was slowly recovering from shock, the unrelenting slaps from Kylie, followed by a girlish squeal. England then in turn tapped Kylie on the hand. Pathetic. ) Marcus was toddling over to Germany arms raised. Germany picked but then almost dropped him as he spotted America.
America was sitting on the Prime Minister's lap and doing his best to tug the poor man's beard off!
"Hey!" Germany yelled. Everyone froze and hastily returned to their seats. Germany strode over to Amerixca and single handedly yanked America off the Prime Minister. He profusely apologized to Rajini Khanth for America's childish behavior. Rajini Khanth just tried to laugh it off but Germany saw the holy-shit-what-just-happened look pass through his eyes.
Germany helped the Prime Minister gently upright in his seat and then took the one next to him, accepting a manila folder as he sat down from the Prime Minister.
As Germany rapidly leafed through it, he saw it was full of places to visit.
"Okay, we have six groups, and if each group hits two cities we'll have twelve under our belt. Our teams are, and don't complain: France and Canada,; Kylie and England; America and Ireland; Spain, Romano, and Marcus; Prussia and Austria; and I will be going by myself."
He took out a black pouch that was tucked in the manila folder and handed it to England on his left, after shaking it, "You will each take one slip from this bag so each team will have two places to visit. Don't look at your slip until everyone has theirs." and with that the bag was passed around.
When the bag finally reached Germany, he reached into the bag and snagged the last two slips.
"Okay, you may open your papers now." those of you who aren't America or Prussia.
He glanced down at the slips of papers in his hand. New Delhi and Coimbatore. North and south of the country.
"Hey Germany!" called Kylie excitedly from next to England, "Guess what! Me and Iggy are going to Agra then Kerala!"
"Mmm, I am going to be staying in New Delhi and then to Coimbatore." but she had already turned to Ireland who had appearently picked Chennai.
Germany stood up and shouted into the excited chattering of the countries present, "Guys shut up and listen now!" everyone quieted, "Today we recover and tomorrow we set out for our destinations." he turned to Rajini Khanth, who had thankfully recovered.
He stood up as well "Now please come meet my family, fill your bellies, and then you can retire to your rooms."
England nodded, "Sounds like a plan."
~dinner Rajini Khanth's~
"This is my wife, Janani." a pretty middle aged woman wearing a shimmering blue sari clasped her hands in from of her and inclined her head, surveying them with serious light brown eyes, her bangles tinkling.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Ludwig." Germany stepped forward and shook her hand. She had a surprisingly firm grip and a brisk hand shake, but of course, this wast the que for - OOF! Germany was pushed roughly to the side by a France, who got down on his knees, trapped Janani's hand in his and, "Mademoiselle I am Francis Bonnefoy of-" He was promptly dragged away by Ireland who was holding a ... you know what whenever Ireland is mentioned just assume she is holding a Guinness can.
Then at the look on his wife's face, Rajini Khanth quickly stepped forward and ushered then towards the dinning room.
Dinner was a three course meal that was preceded by the rest of the introductions, which Germany was glad to say went well. Appetizer was a dice-cut spicy chicken that left nations like France, America, and England coughing their guts out as soon as the chicken was placed on their tongues, (guys just so you know, north indians tend to put less spice in their food, unlike the southern cusine which mm mm mm builds the dish around spiciness ohh i just love spiciness!). Then that was followed by a fluffy bread, which was indroduced as naan, and was dipped in a chicken curry to top. Germany's personal favorite was the vegetarian dish for the naan, which (drumroll please) potato curry. The entire meal was topped off with a sweet known a rasamalai, round milk ball in fresh cow milk.
As soon as the last spoonful of rasamalai dissapeared downed America's throat (Germany lost count after the tenth one), Rajini, got up and made his way over to a large and ornate glass cupboard. He carefully opened it and lifted a large velvet box, about the size of a microwave off the top shelf. Dusting the dust off the top he set it on the table and grinning he opened it, and gingerly lifted a light pink, ornate, embroidered turban to show them.
"Mr. Beilschmidt, meet your spirit-object, for lack of better term."
