A sharp but weak metallic sound entered the air as an empty beer can hit the ground, the hiss of a new one being opened following almost immediately, along with an grumble of Italian. How was it that Romano was suddenly stuck babysitting some washed up old drunk? Oh, right—his idiotic brother just had to visit that stupid potato bastard and wouldn't let him wait in the car. And yet those two had wandered off anyway! What the hell?

Romano continued to grumble to himself as he watched a certain albino work his way through a case of beer and towards liver damage. This was really less amusing than it could have been, given that said albino was forgoing any possible drunken antics to type furiously on his laptop. The brunette was quickly becoming bored, amber eyes scanning the room for any signs of his sibling, or at least something to do.

There was no hope for his northern twin returning anytime soon, but Romano did notice something strikingly familiar. On top of a book sat a tomato. Or rather, a post-it made to look like a tomato. There was only one idiot who would use something like that—Spain.

Curious, Romano stood to see what sort of note Spain would have written to Prussia. Exasperation crossed his features when he found it to be only a date, until he realized the book it was attached to seemed to be a photo album. He opened it and immediately threw it to the ground and started cursing the stupid Spaniard who had made it. The first page was him, passed out, with a moustache drawn on his face with marker.

"That bastard! Just wait till I get my hands on him!" He raved, ready to stomp the damn book until he noticed the page it had opened on when it landed. A familiar face was grinned drunkenly at him, one he had seen only earlier that day. With a frown he picked the album and examined the photo, still straining to remember the name of the blonde in it.

"Hey…" he called over to the Prussian who had been ignoring him up until now. Blood red eyes shifted to him in a glare, irritated at being distracted from an awesome blog post about how lame it was to have friends. Romano tried not to let it bother him as he lifted up the picture, "What's this guy's name?"

"Canada," Prussia growled, downing another can of beer. "You can throw that one out."

The Italian tilted his head in confusion for a split second before his mind finally started to fill in the blanks. He smirked as he realized the source of the ex-nation's crummy attitude.

"Aww, so you're upset because your little girlfriend ran off with Russia?" Romano said in a teasing voice, but Prussia did not look amused. Red eyes stared at him as if what he had said was too ridiculous to believe.

"…What?"

"I saw him at Russia's house. The creeper was all over him, it was gross!" He complained, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Prussia was suddenly on his feet, forget unamused, the albino was downright pissed. "WHAT!"

After an interrogation that had amounted to little more than a sobbing Italian, Prussia found himself storming about the house in search of his brother.

"WEST!" He called, increasing anger and a hint of desperation in his voice, "Where the fuck are you!"

By the time he did find his younger sibling, he didn't even bother to make a smartass comment on the compromising situation he found him in. "West, I need to be on the next flight to Canada."

"What? Bruder, I—"

" Just get me a flight! Use a government plane if you need to!" The look on Prussia's face left no room for debate, Germany had no choice but to pry off his clingy Italian friend and start making phone calls.

Through the wonder of time zones Prussia managed to arrive in Canada on what was technically that very same day, but it was still not soon enough. The familiarity of his friend's home was usually a comfort when he visited, but now it tied knots in his stomach. As soon as he fumbled out of the rental car he saw it was literally exactly as he had left it.

Broken shards of flower pot crunched under his feet as the albino made his way up the walkway to the stoop where his weather worn bag of gifts still sat. The moment he could reach he pounded furiously at the door, not stopping until it was open by Canada's bear, looking even grumpier than he had before.

"I told you he's not here." It growled as Prussia returned its unpleasant look with one of his own.

"When was the last time he was?" He snapped back, though by the looks of things, it had to have been over a month. The bear thought for a long moment, not being the best with memory.

"…He left for a meeting…didn't come back."

"But his car is here." It was hard to tell if the animal rolled its beady black eyes, but he at least shook his head.

"The one that looks like him came and got him."

"America?" The bear gave a 'sure, we'll go with that,' nod.

"He does that sometimes." Prussia took a moment to chew his lip and think before turning to leave. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to America," he grumbled back, trying to cover the fear in his heart with anger. There were two ways he saw this playing out, and didn't like either of them. The first being that Romano was right, that Canada had terrible taste in men and had become Russia's lover. A deep sense of betrayal stabbed at him when he thought of this, since Canada was one of the few nations who knew details of his time living with Russia, what the sick bastard had done to him personally. He knew Canada was kind, but to think your best friend could love someone who had abused you for years hurt—but it was better than the alternative. That Russia had taken him. That he was being forced to…No, Prussia couldn't think of that. The albino spent the entire drive trying to convince himself the former option was the truth.

Hey guys. Oh goodness, has it really been a month? I'm so sorry! Honestly I don't have any good excuse-tumblr has a lot to do with it... ;

This chapter was supposed to be longer, but since I hit 1000 words and I had kept you waiting for so long, I decided to stop here for now and just get it up. I know it's not much, but hopefully I will have the more done this weekend, either continuing with Prussia, or a RusCan interlude (or maybe both, if I'm a good girl).