Thanks to Gemini Artemis for being my beta and to everyone who reviewed!

SEEING IS BELIEVING

Chapter 9

It was already past midnight when they arrived at Germany's house. They were both tired, even Prussia who usually stayed up far later into the night – or early morning. Something about travelling just sucked the energy out of a person, even when it consisted of mostly nothing but sitting around on one's ass.

"I'm hungry," Romano complained.

"Me, too," Prussia said. "We could order pizzas."

Romano stared at him like they were at a funeral and Prussia was taking a leak in the coffin.

"Hell no! Just thinking about eating pizza in Germany makes me sick!" he yelled.

"Then our options are pretty limited. I'm too tired to go anywhere, so we're either ordering something or cooking."

"I'm not eating anything made by you," Romano said.

"Fine, whatever," Prussia said with a roll of his eyes. He walked to the kitchen with the intention of descending to the basement to look for the numerous flyers for fast food restaurants that he had stashed somewhere. However, he stopped at the door to the utility room when he noticed that Romano had gone to take a peek into the kitchen cupboards.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing if there's anything here. Veneziano is always talking about what he cooks for you two bastards, so you must have a stash of something edible somewhere," Romano said.

"Spaghetti behind the flour in the cupboard to your left, spices in the one next to that, pans and kettles right from the dishwasher and tomatoes and paprika in the second locker in the fridge right next to the milk," Prussia said, not even stopping to think.

Romano turned to stare at him with a disbelieving frown.

Prussia shrugged. "West is really anal-retentive about the way the groceries are stocked. Everything has a place appointed to it. When you live with him long enough, you learn it all by heart." He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm the one who taught him to respect proper order, but he took it a little too seriously."

"No kidding," Romano said. He opened the cupboards Prussia had mentioned and started gathering ingredients on the kitchen counter. He refused Prussia's help and shooed him away when he tried to grab a tomato.

"We'll die of food poisoning if you stick your nose into this," Romano said.

Prussia had no choice but to take a seat and watch the other nation work. He noticed right away that Romano had a very different style of cooking than Italy. Italy always looked like he was doing several things at once and like he wasn't really putting any effort into it. It looked so easy when he did it. Romano, on the other hand, was much more precise. He was frowning in concentration and didn't let anything distract him from one task before he was finished with it.

"Hehe, this time you actually are cooking for me. I knew it would happen one day if I just waited patiently," Prussia said. He could only hope he wouldn't get a kettle to the face this time.

"I'm not cooking for you! I'm cooking for myself. The only reason there'll be enough for two is that I don't want these ingredients to go to waste. You bastards are so obsessed with recycling that I'd get a headache if I tried to sort all this into the right garbage cans," Romano said.

"Just admit that you love us," Prussia said. He wasn't surprised when Romano shot a downright murderous glare in his direction.

It didn't take long before the kitchen smelled of boiling tomato sauce. Prussia's stomach grumbled, and he didn't think the spaghetti could cook fast enough.

Romano dumped all the utensils he had used into the sink. "You're doing the dishes."

"We have a dishwasher," Prussia reminded him.

"Then you're filling it."

"Fine, fine. But first I want to eat so that I know if the hassle was worth the trouble."

Silence fell between them as they waited for the food to get ready. Prussia tried to think of a topic they could talk about without it escalating into yelling from Romano and insults from him, but there weren't too many of them. Or maybe the problem was with them and not the topics. Prussia was the first to admit that it was a rare day when he had a serious conversation about anything. Talking with someone like Romano who gave him endless openings for snide comments, he just couldn't help himself.

Some time later, they settled down to eat. Prussia took a few beers from the fridge and placed them between them on the table.

"I hope you weren't expecting anything fancier. West usually keeps some wine around for your brother, but we don't have any right now," he said.

"It'll do."

Prussia was starving, so he was sure he would have gladly eaten even the bottom of a shoe, but he was still surprised by how good the spaghetti was. Romano had used more spices than Italy who always held back a little because Germany wasn't fond of strong food. Prussia liked to think he wasn't a wuss like his brother, so he much preferred Romano's approach.

At first he was so busy stuffing his mouth that nothing else caught his attention, but then he noticed that Romano kept sending wary glances to his direction. Was he looking at his reaction? Maybe he wanted to know what he thought of the food.

"It's really good," Prussia said.

Romano merely snorted and turned his eyes away.

"No, really! I mean it. I like it a lot better than Italy's cooking."

"Yeah, right," Romano mumbled.

"What? You think I'm lying? Why would I lie about that?"

"Because you're an asshole."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "You've got some serious issues, you know. Normal people would just accept the compliment and be happy," he said, but then he noticed how Romano immediately turned his eyes to his plate and started shovelling food into his mouth.

He waited a while to see if a counter insult was coming, but nothing happened.

"What? What did I say this time?" Prussia asked, unnerved by the silence.

"Shut up."

"It's basic manners to answer when someone asks you a question. Or is even that too much to ask of a grouchy loser like you?"

Romano glared at him with such hate in his eyes that Prussia couldn't help but be a little taken aback.

"And then you wonder why I don't want your fucking compliments. You say something nice now, but next you'll say something crappy and ruin it, so there's no point in getting happy in the first place," Romano grumbled.

Prussia placed his fork on his plate and stared at Romano in confusion. "Is this about those times when I insulted you or called you stupid or something? Because you've given me a fair share of that back, so it would be pretty hypocritical of you to get all –"

"I can take insults!" Romano snapped. "I just... Never mind!" He spent a moment staring at his food. Then he jumped abruptly to his feet. "Fuck this. I'm going home."

"Hey, all I did was say that your cooking is better than Italy's!" Prussia called out after him.

There was the sound of the front door being opened and slammed shut. For a moment, Prussia only stared at Romano's empty seat and tried to digest what had just happened. Had he said something that was worse than what he usually said?

With a sigh, he got up and went after Romano. Luckily, the other nation hadn't made it far down the street and had stopped to stand near one of the street lamps that illuminated the area, so Prussia easily caught up with him.

He froze before he got too close. The clenched fists and the trembling of Romano's shoulders told him that he was crying. Prussia hadn't thought it would be that bad.

"Okay, whatever I said, I take it back, so stop bawling," he said.

"Fuck you," Romano growled, his voice thick.

"Hey, I'm sorry!"

"It's not an apology if you don't even know what you're apologizing for!"

Prussia groaned and scratched his head. He couldn't deal with this. He wasn't fluent in Romano's strange tantrums the way Spain was. Maybe he should have listened a bit more carefully whenever Spain had talked about his relationship with the Italian nation.

"Well, you know, I don't think I even need to apologize in the first place."

He watched how Romano leaned against the street lamp, keeping his back turned to him so that he couldn't see his tears. Romano was breathing in shaky gulps of air that Prussia knew all too well; that was what it was like when you were trying to pretend that you weren't really crying.

Fuck, this was awkward. It usually took a lot more for him to make anyone cry. It was fun when he did it on purpose, but this time he really had no idea what he had done.

"I hate you all."

Romano's voice was so quiet that at first Prussia thought he had imagined it.

"What?" he asked.

"I said I hate you, asshole! You're all the same! I get so fucking tired of people saying stupid shit to me and then acting like I'm overreacting when I get angry! Like now!" Romano yelled.

Prussia was starting to have the feeling that it wasn't really his fault that Romano was upset. Maybe he had triggered something that had already been bothering him, or maybe Romano was just tired after the long day.

"You can't really go anywhere in the middle of the night like this. We should get back inside," he said. Some more food and a few beers, and everything would be back to normal.

"I'm not going anywhere with a fucking bastard like you!"

Okay, that did it. Prussia didn't have much patience in the first place, and now he was definitely starting to run out of it. It wasn't like he enjoyed being the victim of constant verbal abuse.

"What the hell is your problem? I'm actually going out of my way to be nice to you here! Why can't you put some effort into doing the same?" he snarled. "Wait, right. You said you hate everyone. That's just as well because with that attitude, I'm sure the world hates you right back!"

At that, Romano whirled around to glare at him. His face was covered in angry, red blotches. His eyes were red and swollen, and his nose was running. The scowl that was probably supposed to be menacing wasn't quite convincing enough. He looked lost and sad, and Prussia got the feeling he had just kicked a sick puppy.

"Fuck you," Romano growled.

"Is that all you can say? Looks like I'm right, so you can't even be bothered to deny what I just said."

"Shut up!" Romano's voice was close to screaming and cracked as he continued, "Do you think I don't know that? I don't need you of all people to tell me that! I know! I'm fucking pathetic and can't do anything right!"

Prussia hadn't expected that, so he had no retort ready. He could only stare.

Romano, however, could go on without problems. "Isn't that what you wanted to hear, asshole? Well? Where's your next insult? When are you going to start laughing?"

Prussia couldn't say he felt particularly victorious. He couldn't remain angry when Romano looked so pitiful, and he didn't enjoy teasing people who put no effort into fighting back. He was starting to wish he had never come after the other nation.

"I'm going back inside. There's still plenty of beer, so... join me when you feel like it," he said, suddenly unable to keep looking Romano in the eyes.

He didn't wait for Romano to answer but turned around and marched back to the house. He left the door unlocked in case Romano decided to follow him, but he couldn't even begin to guess if he would.

The spaghetti was getting cold, and he kept poking at it unhappily as he wondered if he should put it in the microwave or give up and stuff himself with peanut curls like he usually did. He decided to go for a happy medium and opened a bottle of beer instead.

When he was half done drinking it, he heard the front door open and close. It was a quiet sound, almost shy, and he figured Romano had let out most of his steam. Maybe he had just needed to cry alone to get his problems out of his system.

"So you decided to come back after all," he said as Romano entered the kitchen.

"It's going to start raining. Like hell I'm staying out there," Romano grumbled. His eyes were red, and Prussia thought he looked pretty awful, but at least he wasn't crying anymore. The stiff anger had left his shoulders.

Prussia offered him a bottle of beer, but Romano made no move to take it. "Do you throw tantrums like that often, or am I just that special?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you."

"Sorry, but if you're going to act like that around me, the least you can do is tell me what I said to make you crack like that. I'm awesome, but I can't read minds, you know."

From the way Romano winced, Prussia figured he had just poked at the core of the problem.

"And why not talk to me? You hate me, so why does my opinion matter?" he asked.

"Why would you even want to listen?" Romano asked.

"I think the beer is getting to me. And that's another plus. If I drink enough, tomorrow I won't remember anything you tell me."

Romano gritted his teeth and glared at his hands on the table. He looked tempted, so Prussia kept quiet and took a gulp of his beer. He was a little surprised at himself for having offered to listen, but he figured it was necessary if he didn't want the rest of the weekend to be miserable. And he liked to think that he wasn't as much of an asshole as everyone thought he was.

"I can't talk about it," Romano said after a moment of silence.

"Well, why the hell not?"

"I just can't, okay? It's none of your business!"

"You kind of made it my business by insulting me at my home. Besides, you already told me quite a lot," Prussia pointed out.

"Just... forget about that. I'm going home tomorrow, so let's not mention it again," Romano said.

Prussia took a gulp of his beer and sighed. "You're pretty intent on pretending you have no problems. It doesn't make them disappear," he said.

"As if I need you to tell me that."

"Fine, don't talk to me. But at least have this beer," Prussia said and grabbed the bottle he had offered him earlier. He opened it and pushed it before him once more.

Romano hesitated a moment but accepted it this time. He took a long gulp.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem. There's plenty more."

"Not the beer, you idiot!"

"Huh?"

Romano wrapped both of his hands around the bottle and stared at it. "Thanks for not trying to hug me or any comforting crap like that," he muttered.

"What makes you think I would ever do that?" Prussia asked.

"That's what Spain would do."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It just makes everything even more fucked up," Romano said, and the self-loathing in his voice made Prussia freeze in the middle of lifting his bottle to his lips. Okay, it looked like they were talking about Romano's issues after all.

"Everything you all say about me is true. I can't take compliments. I can't give them. I can't do anything right, and I can't ever tell anyone how I really feel. I just expect everyone to know what's bothering me and wait for them to fix it for me. I'm fucking pathetic."

Judging by the shaking of Romano's voice, he was going to start crying again. Prussia tried to come up with something quick to say, but there was no denying the fact that Romano kind of had a point. He was pretty unlikeable as far as his personality went.

"I know all that. And... and I want to get better. It's not like I enjoy being messed up like this. But how the hell am I supposed to do it if he just hugs me and strokes my hair or whatever stupid idea he gets?" Romano continued.

"Yeah, I guess that's like hiding the problems under the carpet or something. Out of sight but still there," Prussia mused.

He wasn't expecting Romano to lift his eyes at that and look at him in surprise, like he had just discovered the meaning of life and declared it to the whole world.

"What?" he asked.

Romano immediately turned his gaze away again.

"Nothing."

Silence fell between them, and no matter how hard he tried, Prussia couldn't come up with anything cool to say.

"Hey, have some more beer," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"Like that's going to help," Romano said, but he did just that. After two more gulps, he continued, "No wonder it didn't work out with me and Spain. I had to end it so that he wouldn't have to put up with me anymore."

"That's why you did it?" Prussia asked in surprise.

Romano nodded and took another sip of his beer. The bottle was quickly growing empty.

"So, you're still in love with Spain but you broke up with him anyway? That was pretty stupid," Prussia said.

"No. I haven't been in love with Spain in a long time. I just liked to think that I was because it was safe," Romano said. He turned the bottle around in his hand and squinted his eyes as he looked at the label. "Fuck, what the hell am I doing, talking about this crap with a bastard like you? Did you put something into my beer?"

"Nah, and you haven't drunk nearly enough to blame the beer anyway. I think you just really, really wanted to let that out," Prussia said, and he couldn't help but grin despite the circumstances. It was almost adorable how awkward and uncertain Romano was.

"Fuck you."

"I've got something stronger if you want an excuse for anything else you might say," Prussia suggested.

"I'm not going to say anything else. And it's you who had better start drinking more because I don't want you to remember any of that in the morning!"

Prussia chuckled. "Hey, no problem. I'd do that anyway. But before I forget everything, maybe I should tell you a thing or two."

Romano didn't answer, but from the way he refused to meet Prussia's eyes, it was obvious that he didn't want to hear anything he had to say. He probably expected to be buried in taunts and laughter. All things considered, it fit perfectly into the puzzle that Romano had just let him see.

"Okay, here we go," Prussia said, but then he stopped to consider and scratch the back of his head. "Wait, give me another moment. I'm not that good at this."

He took a big gulp of his beer to win some time. "So, first things first, I think you're maybe being a little too hard on yourself. I mean, sure, you're pretty insufferable, and sometimes I wonder why your brother puts up with you and – hey, don't look at me like that, I'm getting to the point!" He paused to think. "Yeah, so I'd say that the fact that you're crying your eyes out about this is actually a good thing. It means that you've at least acknowledged the problem, so all you've got to do now is to learn not to be such a bitch all the time."

Romano glared at him. "Is that supposed to be helpful?"

"Hey, I said I'm not that good at this!"

"You fucking suck."

Prussia shrugged and walked to the fridge to get more beer for them. "Well, I tried. Go back to crying if that makes you feel better," he said.

"You're so pathetic at giving advice that I have to pity you, so I can't even cry anymore," Romano said.

"Hey, see? That actually means I'm awesome at comforting you. Next time you feel like crying, just think about me and you'll feel better right away!"

"Yeah, right," Romano said with a roll of his eyes. "And one thing. If you ever tell anyone about what I just said, I'm going to kill you."

Prussia lifted his new bottle of beer. "I'll have forgotten it by morning, remember?"

"You had better."

"But don't you think it would get better if you told your brother? And maybe Spain? How is anything going to change if you just keep it to yourself?" Prussia asked.

"I don't want them to know," Romano said. "They already make me feel like shit anyway."

"Huh, you've lost me there. Italy and Spain are the nicest people I know. Do you mean they have some secret sadistic sides I don't know about?"

"No, and that's the problem. They're too goddamn perfect."

Ah, Prussia thought he might be starting to see the bigger picture, bit by bit. He was a little surprised it had taken him so long.

"So that's why it bugged you when I said your cooking is better than Italy's. But I actually meant it. And even if I say something stupid later, it doesn't change what I already said. So stop feeling like you aren't good enough because you are," he said.

Romano opened his mouth, but Prussia continued before he could get a word in.

"And before you tell me to go to hell, just one more thing. You aren't doing yourself any favours by being so bitchy all the time. I don't really know what you're trying to accomplish, but it just makes everything worse," he said.

"You think I don't know that?" Romano asked, fresh blotches of anger appearing on his face.

"I'm just pointing out what I just figured out," Prussia said. He shook his head to himself. "Man, I'm actually pretty good at this after all."

"I spelled everything out for you! You'd have to be a moron not to get it!"

"Whatever. But hey, we've still got the fridge full of beer. You wanna help me drink it so that we've both forgotten this whole awkward thing by morning?" Prussia asked.

"Hell, it's not like I have anything better to do," Romano said.


When Prussia woke up, he didn't at first realise where he was. His back ached, he was shivering from cold, and he really, really had to go to the bathroom. As he picked himself up from amidst the empty beer bottles, he realised that he had fallen asleep on the floor in the living room.

The TV was still on and was showing some kind of early morning chat program that only lonely and miserable people watched. Today's host was Prussia's favourite.

It was still dark outside, but the light from the TV illuminated the room enough to show that Romano was sleeping on the couch.

Even when he was asleep, there was the slightest frown on Romano's face, but otherwise he looked surprisingly peaceful and calm. Prussia ignored the demands of his bladder for another moment and just watched the sleeping nation. He was... almost cute like that, he realised. No, he really was. When Romano wasn't yelling and bitching, he was just as cute as his brother, if not even cuter.

I think I overdid it yesterday, Prussia thought as his eyes wandered to the empty bottles on the floor. His thoughts weren't making any sense. And fuck, now he wanted to pinch Romano's cheeks.

Knowing that all hell would break loose if he even tried that, Prussia started dragging himself towards the bathroom, hoping that he wouldn't stumble and wake up Romano. He didn't think his pounding head could take a single loud insult right now.