Germany opened his eyes a crack, squinting through the sunlight pouring in through the open window. His first thought was, When did my room get a window there…? He blinked again, his eyes starting to focus.
Italy was sleeping soundly in his arms, his back pressed firmly against Germany's chest. Germany's face immediately started heating up. He swallowed nervously, slowly unwrapping his arms from around his friend. As he did, Italy rolled over, landing on Germany's shoulder. In his sleep, he murmured, "I surrender…" waving his arm as if he were holding a white flag.
Germany shut his eyes and grabbed Italy's arm, gently rolling him off. He sat up and stood slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Then he started heading toward the door.
"…Germany…"
Germany flinched. "Listen Italy, I'm sorry but I need to get home before Prussia blows up the kitchen again—" He turned and froze. Italy was still soundly sleeping. Germany blinked in confusion and walked back over. "Italy?" He asked.
"No…" he mumbled weakly, "…I don't want to…eat any scones…" He rolled the other way. "Germany, help me …England's gonna make me eat scones…" He mumbled a little bit more and flailed back.
Germany sighed. Just like Italy to have nightmares about eating English food. He patted Italy's hair gently, then froze. His hand was still bandaged from the day before. And, strangely enough, it was the same hand that he'd pinky promised with the night before…
He sat there for a second, trying to figure out what to do. Italy mumbled his name again, squirming frantically in his sleep, as if England were trying to force feed him fish and chips. Germany rolled his eyes and lay back down next to him. "England isn't here, Italy," he said, ruffling Italy's hair. Italy gave a small "ve" and snuggled against Germany. Germany sighed and closed his eyes.
...
A few hours later, Italy sat up. "Ve~?" He mumbled sleepily.
Germany opened an eye. "Oh, you're awake," he muttered.
Italy stared at him. "Germany?" He asked slowly. "You…you stayed!" He smiled and hugged Germany tightly. "You stayed! Ve~ you're so nice Germany."
Germany blushed and rolled his eyes. "Ja, sure," he mumbled. He sat up. "I'm going to head home now."
Italy hopped to his feet. "Ve~ Germany, you don't have to leave yet! You haven't even eaten breakfast yet! Ve~ we could eat pasta for breakfast! Or pizza! Or we could even make some of your gross German food! Please Germany! Per favore!"
"No," Germany said sternly. He glanced over at Italy, who'd started pouting. He sighed. "Come on Italy, I need to get home before Prussia destroys anything." He paused. Then he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Now that I think about it…" he dialed his brother's phone number.
"Hallo?" Prussia answered sleepily.
"I'm coming home," Germany said. "Don't break anything."
Prussia paused. "Holy crap, West, are you psychic or something? I mean, seriously..."
Germany stood there silently, feeling a vein popping in his forehead. He hung up and walked toward the door. "Ja, I need to get home. Sorry."
Italy gave a disheartened "ve" and started following after him. "Okay, I guess…" he mumbled, "…say hi to Prussia for me…"
Germany nodded. "Right. Um…well, see you later."
Italy smiled and gave him a hug. "Ve~ thanks Germany," he said softly.
Germany blushed again and averted his eyes. "U-Um, ja, of course," he stammered. He reached over and patted Italy's head. "…of course…" he repeated.
Italy smiled up at him. For a split second, Germany could've sworn he saw a confused, guilt look pass across his face, but…no, he had to have imagined that. Right…?
Germany patted Italy's shoulder. Italy smiled and hugged him tighter. Germany smiled slightly back at him. Then, almost unconsciously, he leaned closer and kissed Italy's forehead.
After a second, Germany stiffened and pulled back. Crap, why did I just do that? He thought frantically, feeling as though his face was glowing. "U-Um well I-I should go now. A-Auf Weidersehen," he stammered. He turned and practically sprinted to his car.
Italy stood there, blinking. He started blushing slightly. Then he shook his head quickly. No, I…I don't like Germany that way… he told himself. He shut his eyes, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. I don't…right…?
He stood there in the hallway for a little while, then walked into the next room. "Romano, are you awake?" He whispered.
Romano mumbled sleepily, "Veneziano, get out of my room…"
"But this is the living room," Italy protested.
Spain laughed. "Aw, Romano's so cute when he's sleepy!" He tousled Romano's hair happily. "So cute…!"
Romano yawned sleepily. "Shut up you bastard…" he mumbled, snuggling his head against Spain's chest. Then he stiffened. He quickly sat up, staring in horror at the Spaniard he'd fallen asleep on. He opened his mouth dumbly, then closed it.
Spain smiled up at him. "Buenos días, Roma—"
Romano kneed him in the groin. "What the hell are you doing, you bastard?" He shouted angrily, his face turning bright red. Spain gave a weak squeaking noise and pitched sideways off the couch. Romano kept shouting, "Y-You sick perverted bastard! Chigi!"
Italy grabbed Romano's arm and pulled him away before he could kick Spain. Romano glared at him. "He deserved it, damn it." He glared back at Spain, who was twitching on the ground. "Bastard."
"Romano…that hurt…" Spain managed to groan, teary-eyed. "I just didn't want to move you because you were so cute when you fell asleep…"
Romano narrowed his eyes dangerously. Spain just pouted back at him. After a few seconds, Romano sighed and helped him up. "Next time I cut something off, damn it…" he hissed. They both sat back down on the couch, Romano still grumbling under his breath.
Italy smiled and sat down next to them. Romano glanced over toward him. "So what the hell did you want Veneziano?" He asked, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.
Italy's smile faded. He quickly glanced away uncomfortably. "Well I was just…I-I was…um…I…I was…" He pursed his lips, trying to think of how to word it. "Well, earlier, when Germany left…well, he…uh…he—"
"Whoa wait, what'd that Potato bastard do? Did he do something? Did he touch you? That's it, where'd my gun go."
"N-No wait, Romano!" Italy grabbed Romano's arm as he stood up to find his gun. "No, he didn't do anything. He's really a nice person!"
Romano scowled at him, sitting back down. "You have a very warped sense of the word 'nice'," he muttered. "I mean, all of your friends are crazy as shit."
"Uh, w-well, so are yours!" Italy weakly retorted.
"What's that supposed to—?"
"Romano, Romano, look, I found another turtle!" Romano looked over to see Spain smiling idiotically on the floor and holding up a small turtle. "I'm going to call him 'Señor Tortuga'!" He turned toward the turtle. "Buenos días, Señor Tortuga."
Romano stared blankly at him for a moment. Then he turned. "Still, out of all of your friends, that evil steroid-abusing German potato headed son of a bitch is the worst…"
"Ve~ he's a good person though!" Italy insisted. "He's nice, and sweet, and brave, and strong, and kind, and hansom, and—" He froze, realizing what he was saying. He turned red. "Err, I-I mean…um…I-I-I..."
Romano stared at him, looking revolted. Then he stood back up. "That's it, I am putting KNIVES in that gun, you hear me? KNIVES, DAMN IT!"
"W-Wait Romano, I don't—"
"KNIVES!" Romano roared, and stormed off into the next room.
Italy sighed. He glanced up at Spain, who was still smiling. "So, Italy, what was it that you wanted to ask about?"
"Um, well…" Italy glanced away, watching as his brother passed by, muttering darkly under his breath. "I was…" he trailed off, gently rubbing his forehead. "Earlier, when Germany was leaving…ve…" His face started feeling slightly hot. "I just…"
Spain laughed a bit. "Aw, you are so cute!" He got up from where he'd been sitting on the floor and sat down next to Italy, giving him a one armed hug. "You like Germany, no?"
"N-No!" Italy stammered. "I-I just…um…" He trailed off, thinking hard. "O…Or maybe I do…or…" He shook his head. "I…I don't know!"
"Found my gun," Romano stated, walking back in. He noticed Spain hugging Italy and clenched his jaw slightly. He glanced at his gun. "Maybe I should test it out on you guys…"
Spain didn't seem to notice Romano. "Oh, you know what? You should go talk to France! He's good at that kind of stuff!" He smiled proudly for his idea.
Romano stiffened. "Are you crazy?" He yelped horrified. "You know what that sick bastard will do to him?"
"Ve~ that's a great idea!" Italy said happily. (Romano face-palmed behind him.) "Big Brother France knows all kinds of things about that! Thanks!"
"Why the hell are both of you so stupid?" Romano yelled, hitting both of their heads with his gun. "Spain, are you trying to get my fratello molested?"
"What do you mean, Romano?" Spain and Italy asked innocently, smiling at him.
Romano's eye started twitching.
Spain stood up. "Here, Romano! Señor Tortuga will cheer you up!" He held the turtle in Romano's face, smiling. "¡Dile 'Hola' a Señor Tortuga!"
Romano glared at the turtle. "Hola, Señor Tortuga. Yo te voy a comer."
Spain pulled the turtle back. "Why is it that when I get you to speak Spanish, it's so hurtful…?"
Germany pulled up to his house and sat in the car for a minute, banging his head against the dashboard. Stupid…bescheuert…dumm…idiotisch…schwachsinnig…scheiße... He rested his head there for a second. Why? I was so close to getting it back to normal between Italy and me, why did I have to do that? Why? He banged his head one more time against the dashboard then slowly got out of the car.
He rubbed his head, walking over to the front door. Well, maybe I could go and apologize again. Yeah, maybe I could buy him some pasta. I'm sure that would make him happy. We could go out for pasta or…wait, that sounds kind of like a date. Maybe not. Or…maybe that would work? Oh god, what exactly would I—
Germany tripped and fell headfirst into the door.
"Oh my god! Are you alright?" Someone yelped from the ground next to him. "I-I'm so sorry!"
Germany blinked a few times, stars flashing in front of his eyes. He rubbed his head and sat up. "W…What the…?" He looked over at the kid he'd just tripped over. He blinked a few times. "C…Canada?" He asked. "What the hell?"
Canada leapt to his feet and helped Germany up. "I am so sorry!" He apologized again. Then he paused. "Huh, you remembered my name this time. It just took me almost giving you a concussion. I guess that's how America manages to do it, eh?" He gave a nervous laugh.
Germany gave a weak smile (/grimace). "Yeah. Err…" He looked around uncomfortably. "Did you…sleep here or something?"
Canada blushed, embarrassed. "Y-Yeah, um, your brother invited me over again yesterday, but he didn't answer the door any of the times I knocked or rang, then when I gave up and started leaving it turned out America 'borrowed' my car again and by then it was starting to get dark and I couldn't find my hotel and there were these creepy guys that chased me for almost three blocks and I ended up back here and I didn't have anywhere to go so I guess I fell asleep…"
Germany blinked. "Ah," he mumbled. He coughed uncomfortably. "R…Right." He grabbed the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open. "Here, you can come inside."
"Thanks…" Canada murmured, walking through the doorway.
Germany followed after him. It seemed that no matter what was happening to him, Canada was always having a worse day…
"Hey bruder!" Germany called loudly as he closed the door. "You left something on the porch."
"Right, I'm coming!" Prussia called from the kitchen. He walked into the room. "By the way, someone keeps ding dong ditching us—" He paused, noticing Canada standing next to Germany. "Hey, Canada!" He greeted. Then he froze. He looked from Canada to the door behind him and back. "Oh…r…right…" he murmured. "I'm sorry, I must've forgotten…"
"I… It's fine…" Canada mumbled, his face reddening, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. "It's fine. Not like you're the first to forget…" He pretended to fix his glasses so he could avoid eye contact.
Prussia sighed. "Ja, I'm sorry. Here, come on, I'll go get you a beer."
He led Canada into the kitchen, mouthing toward Germany, "Help me…" Germany rolled his eyes and followed them into the kitchen.
Prussia sat Canada down at the table and grabbed a few beers. "Heh…here, drink up…"
Germany noticed a tray of brownies on the counter. "Oh, you made brownies." Germany reached for the tray.
"SCHEIßE DON'T TOUCH THOSE!" Prussia yanked them away quickly. Germany just sent him a suspicious look. Prussia sighed and grabbed the card taped to the tray and handed it to Germany.
Dearest Prussia,
If you continue calling my brother I will be forced to castrate you with a rusty butcher's knife.
- Anonymous
P.S. There is absolutely nothing wrong with these brownies. Feel free to eat them.
Germany blinked. "Wow. Subtle, isn't she," he mumbled. He folded Belarus's card and put it down on the counter.
"Yeah, don't touch those brownies."
"Shouldn't you throw them out?"
"I'm afraid to touch them… Maybe I shouldn't prank call Russia so much."
Germany sighed and sat back down at the table. Prussia grabbed three beers and passed them out. After a few seconds, Germany said, "Hey Prussia, I used to…to have other sibling before, right…?"
Prussia nodded. "Ja! Brandenburg, Holstein, Saxony…why do you want to know?"
"Err I was just…" Germany trailed off, in the back of his mind, remembering how upset Prussia had been before. "I was just… Das macht nichts, it's not that important," he murmured, standing up. "I think I'm going to go to the library again.
Prussia rolled his eyes. "Fine. Sure. Have fun." He took a drink. "Nerd…"
Germany rolled his eyes too. "Bye." He turned and walked out.
Señor Tortuga ~ Mr. Turtle
Dile "Hola" ~ say hello to
Yo te voy a comer ~ I'm going to eat you
Das macht nichts ~ never mind
The letter was supposed to be from Belarus, inreference to all the prank calls from Prussia. Just edited it. Sorry if that wasn't clear for everyone that already read before I noticed it.
Germany had, like, five other brothers mentioned besides Prussia, but since it's obscure as to whether they're alive, I'm just going to assume they're dead.
This was a kind of transition chapter I guess. Hope you all like it.
By the way, it's funnier to imagine Spain using a deep voice every time he says "Señor Tortuga".
