A/N: Hello! It's the new chapter. I apologize for my extreme lateness. I've decided just to focus all of my attention to this story alone.
Disclaimer: If I actually OWNED Hetalia, wouldn't I be rich enough to make this Fanfic a movie?
"Bruder, we need to talk," Germany said, bright blue eyes showing displeasure. Prussia grinned and brushed off his brother's look. Nothing important happened, Prussia thought, He's probably mad about the mess in the kitchen.
"Ve~ Germania, should I wait in the hallway?" Italy asked uncertainly. Prussia saw something completely unexpected happen. A soft look crossed the normally stoic German's face as he regarded the Italian fondly. He shook his head. Italy seemed to understand, "I'll stay, Luddy." This wasn't the unexpected part.
Germany pulled Italy close, placing his lips over the Italian's. Italy tilted his head up to return the gentle action, wrapping his slender arms around Germany's broad shoulders. He smiled against Germany's lips as he felt the German's arm firmly placed around his waist. Their bodies fitted together nicely, complimenting and enhancing the experience of such a sweet kiss.
That's when Prussia got the small feeling in his stomach that something was wrong. Sure, he was egotistical and self-centered, but that didn't mean he was stupid. He only acted stupid when he was dead drunk or in need of a victim to annoy (which just so happened to be all the time in the latter case). He was definitely happy that his little brother was in a relationship -Lord knows, he needed it- but why was this on such short notice? He decided that the best way to find out was to play ignorance. He smiled, trying to mask the confusion and slight nervousness in his expression, "West! I didn't know you had it in you!"
Germany unwillingly broke away from Italy, kissing his temple apologetically and getting the most adorable blush in response. As much as he wanted to keep lavishing attention onto the younger nation, it would have to wait. He had other matters to attend to at the moment. He looked at his brother and gave him a hard look, "Bruder, why did you lie to me?"
Prussia racked his brain for the lie that made his brother so angry. He thought he found it and blanched. No… Anything but that! He gulped and took a deep breath, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. His brother had found out… He was so dead. He tried to speak, "West, I didn't mean to lie!"
"Why would you do this to me?" Germany demanded, face growing red with anger. His eyes narrowed most frighteningly at Prussia, making the former nation cower.
"I swear it was an accident! I didn't mean to go into that strip club and tick off the waiter! I was drunk with Vodka Breath and he started to feel him up and-" Prussia was interrupted by his now very confused brother.
"Bruder. Was?" Germany had a look of pure bewilderment on his face; eyes stared at him in confusion. If this was an American cartoon, a giant question mark would have been situated in the air above his head. Germany looked at his brother, "What are you talking about?"
Prussia relaxed. His brother hadn't heard of that particular incident, thank the heavens. Italy started rubbing circles on Germany's hand, trying to make sure that he didn't get so riled up again. Germany sighed, enjoying the relaxation Italy's fingers instilled in his tense hand. He felt a sort of deja-vu, as if he had been in a relaxed and peaceful state before. He dismissed the thought and cut straight to the point.
"Prussia, why didn't you tell us that I was Holy Roman Empire?"
Prussia regarded his younger brother with a kind of shocked and guilty look Germany had never seen in him. He looked like he was a traitor being caught red handedly helping the enemy. His ruby eyes suddenly found the floor quite interesting. Prussia took a deep breath, as if composing himself, "I'm sorry…" Prussia looked everywhere except for the couple in front of him, "I… didn't want you to be hurt by your past… This would've complicated things… It has…" He shook his head miserably.
"Prussia…" Italy said softly, his breath hitching. His eyes gleamed with tears, a twisted look of despair grabbing hold of his face, "I waited… I waited every day for him to come back… They said that he was dead… I knew he would come back… I was starting lose faith… I thought he was really dead but then… God smiled down upon me…"
Germany silently started to wipe away the tears flowing from Italy's eyes. The amber orbs had opened wide, revealing the years of loneliness and sorrow he had really felt over the centuries. The smiling mask that they were used to seeing was stripped away, leaving only a look of fragility and vulnerability. Germany embraced the Italian he loved, letting him weep into his shoulder and to reassure him that this was real and not an illusion.
England snuggled up deeper into the warm body. His overly foggy mind failed to register the fact that he was cuddling someone he loathed. It also failed to register any actual hatred for the American. The smaller of the two burrowed deeper into America's body, clearly intending to steal all of its delicious warmth and comfort. America had woken up at some point, and after getting over his initial embarrassment of waking up against England's chest, h switched positions so that it was reversed. He lazily ran a hand through the Englishman's spiky hair, twirling the golden strands around his fingers.
Alas, all good things must come to an end.
England started to wake up. The green eyes looked up without focus, still hazy from the tendrils of sleep. This look made the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, former pirate and punk, look impossibly cute to America. The soft smile faded from his lips as the scowl replaced it with full force. England immediately pushed the younger nation away, completely flustered. He still looked devastatingly adorable to America.
"You git!" England shouted, outraged. His forest green eyes flashed with anger, his brows knitted. Still adorable, America thought. As if reading his thoughts, England yelled, "I will burn all of your McDonald's!"
Okay, not so cute anymore.
American panic ensued. England was briefly reminded of a line from the song American Idiot, 'Can you hear the sound of hysteria?' Indeed, England heard the sound of America in complete hysterics. Something in England's heart twisted at the sound of the panicked nation. He sounded so sad… England gave himself a sharp slap on the cheek, effectively ending his strange thoughts and gaining America's attention.
"Where are we going next?" England asked quickly, acting as if slapping yourself was a daily occurrence.
"Well…" America trailed off. He really hadn't thought this far. What did he expect? That England would magically come free from trance and leave by now? America thought and smiled. It was time for a vacation anyway so, "We're going to Japan!" England smiled visibly, relieved. A nice, relaxing encounter…
Oh, how wrong they were.
Mwahahaha~ Next chapter will be out soon! I wrote this late at night so… No more until I'm rested.
