Very late chapter, I'm sorry. Just 1,5 weeks left in school for the year (although I have exams at the start of January so writing during the Christmas break might still be a rare pleasure for more...*sigh*)

Anyways, another Rising-overlap moment here. For those who've read that and were wondering what a certain someone meant in his little rant... I hope this explains it well ;) (Hah... like I had planned that 2 years ahead. No sir. Just been cracking my brain over how to go with that.)

Also, MissiriKoharehn, about the Italy thing... I'm not straying from Hetalia-canon entirely ;) You'll see.

So I hope you'll like it!

"So, have you found anything yet, Ludwig?"
It was January 1920, a few months after the Treaty of Versailles had been finalised. For the first time ever, even the first time that Prussia could remember, the government had decided that the two nations had to find a 'normal' job to make sure they would earn enough to live off; the pay that they normally got from the government for all the work that they did as nations would now be used to pay off the war debts as well. As if that tiny amount could ever make a difference if they had billions to pay. For the brothers, however, it made a huge difference. As if the economic situation hadn't condemned them to a life in poverty yet.
Germany sighed and shook his head. What was the government thinking, anyway? Part of the reason why the economy was in such a state was that there were simply no jobs to be found. Unemployment rates were through the roof. So basically, they were telling their nations to starve.
Prussia twisted one corner of his mouth upward, forming a tiny but slightly crooked smile. "I may have something," he announced, though none too enthusiastically so. "I'll have to go there this evening, so I can't be here with dinner. A smith."
Germany was pleasantly surprised at this news. Finally, a chance to have some income again, however little. "So, you mean in a factory."
That's what Prussia was less happy about, apparently. His semi-grimace changed to a real one now as the nation grunted softly. "No, like the old-fashioned hammer-and-anvil work. But hey, at least the lack of machinery makes for more available jobs, right? Wish me luck there."
"Just try to look as if you're happy when you go there," Germany told his elder brother flatly, getting up and walking to the window, staring out of it. There was a thick layer of snow covering the streets and the roofs. At least he didn't have to worry about Prussia getting too cold over at his potential new job, if he had to be around furnaces all the time. But that was only one of the things on his mind then. Most of all he felt immense frustration. It wasn't just Prussia's job to provide the two with food and other necessities if they were to survive. Germany was old enough to be responsible for such things, too. He wanted to take responsibility, get a job now that they had to and make sure they could afford to at least eat every day. It was the least he could do, wasn't it?
But he would. It was hard for anyone to get a job nowadays. Just like Prussia, he would find something, even if it would take time. Besides, for now they still had some of the money that America had given them; they'd made sure they would keep it aside until they really needed it.
So he pushed those negative thoughts away and tried to replace them with these more positive perceptions. Forcing a smile, he turned to his brother again. "Just try to get there and back again without freezing to death, all right? Good luck, and for Heaven's sake, brother, try to make a good first impression."
Prussia looked at him indignantly, huffing then. "I'm a hard worker, diligent and precise and motivated, and you know it!" he stated, raising his chin proudly. But a twinkle in his eyes showed Germany that he knew very well that the younger nation hadn't intended his comment to be an insult.
So, to add to the joking between them now, Germany replied: "That, and you're short-tempered, loud and blunt. Not a good combination when you're applying for a job, I'd wager." He smiled when Prussia chuckled at this, though inside he still couldn't let go of that feeling of uselessness and his frustration. Before the war, maybe he would've been fine with it if Prussia did more than him, but not anymore now. Things had changed in those 5 years, they had changed drastically. He hated feeling like a child who couldn't do anything useful for his family.
Suddenly Prussia stood by his side; he hadn't noticed that the albino had even gotten up. The older nation was smiling reassuringly. "Things will be all right, Ludwig," he said, as he had done a million times or more by now. "The economy can't stay like this forever, can it? And tonight I'll be awesome and get hired and then soon we'll have some real income again instead of using up all our savings and America's money, all right?"
"…Right. Just so long as you won't be doing all the work."

That evening, Prussia found himself in his new workplace and an awkward situation he had not seen coming.
Namely, he refused to let anyone know that the economy was in such a bad state that even nations needed to get a job now. That they were getting jobs while most of the people could only dream of such a job. Well, not that it was completely certain yet that Prussia would be hired, but he was going to make sure that he would.
Because of this simple wish for anonymity, though, he stumbled upon a certain unexpected obstacle. Prussia had always believed that he had everything humans did and more, except for a 'normal' family of the father-mother-child type and the obvious mortality. Now he realised he also lacked a surname.
He panicked when he was asked for his name, and he just glanced around quickly; the first thing he saw in that smithy was an old woodcutting axe hanging on the wall. I can work with that, he thought. "Beilschmidt," he answered as casually as he could with his brief bout of panic. He just hoped the man wouldn't notice how he had just turned 'axe smith' into a name. Although, honestly, Beilschmidt was a proper, existing surname, so it wasn't that bad of a choice. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt, sir."
The human nodded acceptingly, then eyed the nation curiously. "You're a young thing, aren't ya?" he asked bluntly.
Prussia bit back an angry retort: I'll be bloody 728 in just a couple of days. If that's young to you, suit yourself. Instead of saying that, he managed to stammer awkwardly: "Yes, I'm… I'm 20 years old." He just picked the age most people estimated him as. The oldest he'd been estimated so far was 23, the youngest he had heard in the past decade was 16.
No. No, thank you very much. He'd been a teenager for a few centuries, he would really like to be considered an adult now, finally. Also, 16 was just ridiculous. No, he was 20 or older, but no less than that, dammit.
The human seemed to accept this no problem. But he just continued being blunt. "Probably too young to have fought in the war, eh?" he half asked, half stated. Prussia just irritably told him that he had been fighting, though for the sake of keeping his lies believable, he said it had only been from late 1917 until the end -joining the army at 17 was believable, wasn't it? His potential future employer (which was the only reason he hadn't walked out of there yet) next asked him if he had any experience working with an anvil.
"Working with it… unfortunately not, sir," he answered truthfully. "But I have spent sufficient time around them and smiths to have a clear idea of the process, so I'll figure it out soon, I can promise you that much."
"We'll see about that," the human replied, though he smiled approvingly at hearing Prussia's determination. Then he handed him a hammer. "Heinrich over there can fill you in on the details of this 'process', as you called it. Spend tonight learning to work at the anvil, tomorrow you'll start making tools for use in factories, all right?" Then he gave the nation a firm but somehow welcoming pat on the shoulder, and Prussia couldn't help but smile, his red eyes shining.
I actually have a job!

The next morning, Germany went into Prussia's room, worried. They had a meeting in an hour and Prussia wasn't up yet. That wouldn't be such a problem, were it not for the having to leave within 20 minutes if they wanted to be there in time. Of course he knew his brother had had a short night, what with his new job being in the evening and night because he had his regular work to do during the day, but right now that just didn't change anything. They had a place to be, nothing else to it, no exceptions possible.
So Germany reluctantly woke his brother, which was easier said than done right now. Prussia frowned in his sleep, grunted and turned onto his other side, facing the wall now rather than Germany. The younger nation sighed, giving the Prussian a firmer shake. Then he called him. Then he called louder.
Finally the albino seemed to be woken by all that. "Dammit, Ludwig," he muttered, his voice slurred with sleep. "Not yet… Need sleep."
"I know," Germany answered apologetically as he pulled his half-asleep brother up; at least sitting, Prussia was less likely to fall back asleep right away. "But we also need to go to that meeting, remember? The one with Von Hindenburg. He won't like it if we're late."
This seemed to jolt the free state more awake. Prussia shook his head, swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up. He was swaying for a moment, but found his balance quickly. Annoyed, the albino grunted yet again, quickly assembling an acceptable outfit. "Shit, Ludwig, I'm sorry," he said hastily, nearly tripping as he was rushing to put on his trousers. "Can you perhaps throw together a quick breakfast for me? I'm really sorry to have to ask, but… Oh, damn, I totally forgot." He was just about to button up his shirt when he realised it was inside-out and he nearly tore it in half with the speed with which he corrected that little mistake.
Amused, Germany promised that he would. "Just make sure to be down quick," he called as he was already halfway down the stairs.

Germany had just set Prussia's plate on the table and started fixing his own hair, the one thing he hadn't yet done, when his brother came downstairs. He still looked a little dishevelled, but not nearly as bad as Germany had feared he would. The older nation ate his breakfast in a rush, but not before thanking the republic for it, then when he finished that he quickly got a tie as well.
In the end, they were on their way less than 15 minutes after Germany had gone to wake Prussia. They had to be able to get there in time now.

With days like that, after just a few weeks Prussia's schedule consisted of work, sleep, more work, more sleep. Every waking moment was spent working, either for the government or for the blacksmith. Germany soon found a job, too; he did wood crafting now, mainly making clocks and ornaments like that. They could live off their combined earnings now, but they were being pushed to their limits.
It was because they were both so exhausted that Prussia was overjoyed to receive a letter of invitation a few months later and even more so when, by a miracle and a half, he and Germany got a week off to accept that invitation.

Prussia breathed in deeply the moment he set foot on solid ground again after getting off the ship. "Doesn't this smell wonderful?" he asked, smiling wide and stretching blissfully. It had been too long since he'd been here.
Germany wasn't so sure of it, though. "It's… air," he replied flatly, shrugging. Given, the air here in Scotland was different from back home, but it was just air.
Prussia didn't take any notice of his brother's attitude. "Now to find a taxi," he said, half to himself. "Then we're on our way!"
For their first night here in Scotland, they had to go to a B&B, because Wales and England were still staying with Scotland for another day. After that, Prussia and Germany could stay in the old kingdom's house rather than spending their hard-earned money on that room.

"They must be having a hard time, too," Germany stated out of the blue as he and his brother were walking up to Scotland's house some time later; he could see the three United Kingdom nations through the window. "At war with their brother… I can't imagine what that must be like." Ireland had recently started a new round of his rebelling, and this time it was more than just a week-long uprising. This time it was war.
Prussia sighed and nodded. "Trust me, it's crap," he answered softly. "But… I could never fight you." He literally couldn't. He and Germany were basically one and the same nation. That is, Prussia was part of Germany; he literally couldn't fight his little brother other than on a personal level, something which he hoped would never be the case.
Of course Scotland was the one letting them in after they'd rung the doorbell. Prussia could basically feel the surprise pouring off his little brother for just an instant; the Scot was wearing a kilt. He did that sometimes. Well, probably more than sometimes, really.
Prussia just greeted his friend with a wide smile, thanking him for letting them come over for a couple of days. To Scotland this was just a friendly visit, but to the two Germans it was a full-blown vacation, those few days that they would be here without having to work day and night. Then when Scotland went past them to close the door again while Prussia and Germany hung their coats up, the albino leant closer to the young republic for a moment. "It's a cultural thing," he explained in a whisper, praying that Scotland still didn't speak any German.
Germany glanced at the old kingdom quickly, then shook his head. "Strange culture."
Judging from Scotland's little smirk as he brought them to the living room, he'd understood exactly what they had been talking about. Prussia only then realised how similar the word 'culture' was in English and German. Of course the Scot would know what his two guests were whispering about. At least he didn't seem offended, Prussia thought with a surge of relief.
That relief faded in a blazing fire of awkwardness just seconds later, when the two Germans came face to face with Wales and England. The two pairs of brothers were staring at each other in complete silence. There was only one word for this situation, really. Suddenly dropping by for a friendly visit over at your ex-enemies' place just months after ending a war against them. Somehow Scotland was the least awkward to be with; seeing the two youngest nations in the British Isles now was just plain weird.
That was it, that one word to describe this moment. Plain, bloody weird.
Eventually Prussia cracked a sheepish grin. "Hi."
Germany rolled his eyes at this. "Aren't you at your most eloquent today?" he sighed, looking away from his brother.
Prussia huffed for a moment. "Do you have a better idea of what I'm supposed to say?" he grumbled. Though he did agree with his little brother. That was the weakest greeting he'd ever heard, and it had come out of his mouth. Insane. He was more awesome than that.
Thankfully, a grin from Wales erased some of the tension. "Seems to me like your language lessons haven't paid off as well as you made it out to be, Allistair," he joked to his elder brother before turning to Germany and Prussia. "Salve, Parve," he said to Prussia in particular, a hint of laughter in his voice. Then, turning to Germany, he added: "Parvi fraterque."
England started laughing at this, while Prussia gave the older nation an indignant, offended stare. Wales himself chuckled a bit as well. Germany just stared at them, then looked at Scotland, noticing that he didn't understand any of it, either. The oldest of the nations eventually sighed loudly, demanding a translation.
Wales shrugged. "Just going back to the good old days, Al, that's all!" He was still laughing a little.
It was England who actually did as his brother asked and translated Wales's words: "'Good day, Pipsqueak,' is what he said," the nation explained. "Followed by 'and Pipsqueak's brother'. Nothing special, really, but…"
"The joke doesn't work anymore, Dylan," Prussia sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm taller than you now. Have been for about a century."
Scotland patted him on the shoulder, grinning a little. "Why don't you just sit down, laddie?" he suggested. "I think we've got some catching up to do, don't you? Same goes for you, Ludwig -if it's okay with you that I call you that?"
Germany just nodded quickly, still silent, then took his place beside Prussia on the couch. Prussia sat between him and England, so that was one less awkward thing. He liked being away from home and stress for a little while, but did it really have to be here? This was going to be a long evening.

They talked a lot, Prussia telling the British Isles a bit of how things were back home nowadays; he told them about his and Germany's new jobs, about the huge amount of work they had to do day and night and that it didn't seem to help improve the situation one bit. The older nations seemed to feel sorry for them, but didn't comment on it much. Then, with more cheer, Prussia added that he had found inspiration for a surname in his new work as a smith. Germany just told him flatly, for the umpteenth time already, that he did not want to be considered a 'Beilschmidt'; he was totally fine with being Prussia's brother, he loved it even, but he wouldn't take on a silly name like that just because his brother had done. For this, he mentioned again the fact that all his other siblings didn't have that name either, so he didn't need it. End of the story.
Prussia pouted a little at that, but didn't complain. Instead he just asked the other nations how they were doing, being a little blunt when he began talking about Ireland without any hesitation. "I could never imagine fighting Ludwig," he repeated, glancing at his little brother for a moment before looking back at the United Kingdom.
Wales only shrugged uncomfortably, whereas England gave an actual answer, telling Prussia that the war was going all right, it wasn't too bad yet, but it was more of a burden emotionally speaking. It was difficult, having to fight their elder brother while they were just starting to patch up their relationship -it had felt like that, anyway.
Prussia felt his stomach twist and memories flashed through his mind for a moment. He hadn't gotten the chance to patch things up with Saxony. They had been so close once, then they grew apart, they ended up constantly being at each other's throats right after it had looked like they were becoming more friendly with each other again. Then the war happened. The accident happened. Prussia ended up killing his own brother.
He said a quick, silent prayer that such a thing would not happen in this family, also. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Scotland saved the moment when he said he would be getting some beer for all of them, suggesting that they would compare German and British drinks -Germany and Prussia had of course taken beer with them. To this challenge, of course, Prussia responded with laughter. "You'll never beat true German beer, Skirt!" he called after his friend, grinning mischievously.
Scotland wouldn't give up without a fight, though. "Yeah, we'll see about that, Gil!" he called back from the kitchen, adding quickly: "And it's called a kilt, for Heaven's sake!"
Prussia wasn't the only one laughing after that; England and Wales joined in. Only Germany was silent for a moment before leaning to his elder brother, asking in a confused whisper: "I thought you knew stuff about his culture?"
Prussia only grinned and nodded yes, still chuckling as he did so. When Scotland came back with whatever alcoholic drinks he had stashed away, the free state got the few bottles he and Germany had brought out of the bag he had by his feet. It looked like a meagre contribution to what Scotland had provided. The albino sighed. "I'm sorry that we don't have much, we…"
"Drank all the rest on the way here?" England guessed jokingly as he flipped the lid off a bottle already. Wales gave him a rough poke in the side for this, looking at him with a silent warning in his eyes.
Germany just shrugged. "We couldn't afford any more than this," he corrected the Englishman truthfully. While it was clear that England had only been joking, he did look away uncomfortably after this and apologised softly. The two Germans tried not to let any of that bother them, though.
Now when Germans and Britons start drinking, apparently, it's basically impossible to say who can outdrink who. They all discovered that just about half an hour in, as they were all talking and drinking and having as much fun as they could. Honestly, the 'having fun' part seemed most difficult for Wales and England. Scotland just got giggly once he'd passed a certain amount of alcohol, something which Prussia had already known. England got nostalgic and sad. Wales got grumpy as hell.
England's sentimental rambling made for an interesting dialogue between him and Prussia after some drinks, though.
"I can't even go to Australia and New Zealand because we're so busy," the Englishman complained, slurring. "The other colonies, too. They suffered in the war, too, and we can hardly even show them that we care because of work and fucking Ireland." He let out a dry laugh after this. "It's America all over again. What do I do wrong…? No one ever wants to stay…."
Prussia snorted. "At least you get some company for even a little while. No one even wants to get involved with me in the first place." He took a large swig of his beer in an almost rebellious manner.
England looked up at this, frowning. "That can't be true," he argued, sounding a little confused. "You've got friends, family… stuff."
"Name me one that hasn't left me in any way. Aside from Ludwig."
"The Holy Roman Empire?" Wales tried with a huff, sounding like he didn't give a damn. Obviously that wasn't true, though: if he really hadn't cared, he wouldn't have commented.
That brief moment of interest didn't change Prussia's mood, though. "Died," he reminded them all flatly.
"Hungary?"
"She actually assaulted me several times, verbally and physically. She flat-out rejected me. Then she married my least favourite cousin."
"All right… Speaking of cousins then, how about the Netherlands?" Scotland suggested.
"We get along. Never been too close."
"Jeez, you're making it hard on us here." That was Wales again. "You had your wife."
Prussia rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I still visit her weekly. Oh, actually I haven't had the chance to do so anymore, working day and night nowadays, but you know… the idea is there."
England seemed thoroughly confused for a moment, the alcohol clouding his mind very clearly there. "How do you…?"
Scotland started laughing at this. Pretty loudly. "Damn, Artie!" he choked out between his almost hysterical laughter. "He means at a cemetery, you bloody fool!" Wales muttered to him to have some consideration and shut up, but it took the Scot a little while before he did that.
All the while, Germany was still very quiet, going easy on the alcohol for a change and carefully observing everyone.

This went on for quite a while, though eventually they also talked about more light-hearted things. It was when Prussia started dozing on the couch beside Germany that they decided to leave soon. It was pretty late already, anyway. On top of that, the Prussian generally got sleepy when he was drunk. Germany was the one to make the decision to leave before his brother had a chance to start snoring.
Before doing that, however, Prussia felt the need to do one last thing. He got up briskly and pulled England to his feet, dragging him along into the hallway and shutting the door. He could see the surprise and even mild anxiety in the older nation's eyes as he pinned him to the wall, but he didn't care; this had to be said. The albino had to be certain he would have England's full attention.
"England, for God's sake," he whispered sharply, staring him straight into his emerald eyes as he spoke. "Whatever you do, do not underestimate the war you're in." He trembled a little as he spoke, his mind spinning with all the memories flashing by and swirling through his head. His stomach twisted as he once again saw a teenage girl with light brown hair and staring blue eyes, her skin pale and cold and her abdomen drenched in blood. Another girl, a little younger and with darker, almost black hair. Her chest had been pierced and she had bled out. A blond man, his brown eyes invisible under the blood that was blinding him, his face basically split in half and bleeding profoundly. All of Prussia's mistakes, all his regrets. The two lives ended by his hand, the two lives he had failed to save. No one else should ever suffer the same pain.
"If there's one thing I've learnt in the centuries I've lived," Prussia went on, gritting his teeth a little as he spoke, "it is that every war, without fail, will get out of hand."
He saw the sheer confusion in England's eyes as the man stared at the younger nation in stunned silence. Prussia wondered for a moment if the old kingdom could see his thoughts, the dark secrets he had been keeping for ages. The saying goes that the eyes are windows to the soul, after all, and England was staring straight into the Prussian's red eyes. If he could, well... Let him see it. For just a moment, Prussia was tired of keeping his secrets anyway. He wondered briefly, not for the first time, how long it would be until the entire world would learn of his crimes and his shortcomings. His broken heart, his twisted mind, his darkened soul.
Whenever that would be and however it would happen, right now he just had to make sure another poor soul wouldn't follow down the same path by making the wrong decisions. "Don't underestimate it," he repeated, his voice quivering lightly on those words; after that he controlled his voice again. "You will have to fight your brother, England, and one of you will get hurt. It always happens, it always does, and this war won't be an exception." Shit, he hadn't even declared war on Saxony. He'd been busy kicking that meddlesome Austrian out of the German Confederation when by some twisted miracle he had killed his own brother.
England and Ireland fighting… Honestly, it had been the very first thing Prussia had ever seen them do. When he first laid eyes on Ireland, the near-ancient nation had ended up in a bad fistfight with his youngest brother just moments after that. Despite what they made others and perhaps even themselves believe, however, Prussia just knew with all his heart that they cared about one another. They loved one another, even. They were brothers, after all, how could they not? Even if they really did hate each other, though, Prussia also knew that it would still be painful to have to hurt each other, maybe even end up killing the other like he had done Bavaria and Saxony. It was a pain that never faded, never lessened. It could move to the background, but that guilt, that regret, that deep sorrow and even deeper shame… it always stayed.
He had known that when the accident with Saxony happened. He had known full well that it had been an accident. For that reason, he didn't feel quite as ashamed about that as he did about Bavaria's death, which had been straight-up murder. Knowing and accepting the fact that all of this was inescapable and reminding oneself of any good intentions behind their actions lessened the pain somewhat.
That was his last message to the Englishman for now. He had to know this part. "If you want to get out of this unscathed," he told him intently, "then you first have to accept the fact that you cannot get out of this unscathed. Understand?"
England, wide-eyed with astonishment and breathless, nodded silently.

Over the next days, after Wales and England had left and he didn't feel quite as surrounded by former enemies anymore, Germany eased up a little, too. Scotland was good company, he had to admit. The old kingdom didn't talk about the war, he didn't talk about the aftermath of the war. His conversations with Prussia seemed to be focused on the past. Whenever he talked to Germany, he would ask normal things like what his interests were, what did he think of what he had seen of the Scottish towns and Scottish culture so far. Things like that. It was probably because Scotland was just as tired of constantly thinking about the war, but Germany appreciated this chance to focus only on other things. He'd needed this desperately.
He especially loved to see Prussia feeling so at ease here, though. Germany himself was hardly any better off, but it was good to see his brother not basically working himself half to death for once. For both of them, it seemed as if just not being under constant pressure and stress for the first time in a while actually improved their health, which had been rather bad for a long time already.
It was for all those reasons that, against all expectations, Germany felt a pang of regret when the day came that they had to leave again. Back to the stress. Back to the chaos. Back to working until they would simply defy the odds and drop dead from sheer exhaustion. Back to real life.

Soon it became clear to the young German, however, that when he thought he would go back to life as he was used to it now…
He was dead wrong.

In the summer of 1920, when Germany was working at home, there was a sudden knock on the door. Sighing in annoyance, he got up to open it, ready to send whoever it was away -unless it was someone from the government, of course. Those could stay.
However, although he hadn't been expecting anyone in the first place, the person he saw when he opened the door was an even more unexpected guest than he thought possible. "I-Italy?" he stammered, confused and wondering for a moment if he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming. What a weird dream, though, if Italy Veneziano appeared in it out of the blue.
The older nation grinned sheepishly. "Hi, bambi-… Uh… Germany." Thank God he'd corrected himself like that. If there was one thing Germany would no longer accept, from Italy or anyone, it was being called a child. Prussia could keep on calling him little brother for all eternity, that was something that would never change. Didn't mean the republic wasn't nearly an adult already.
Meanwhile the little Italian was fidgeting a little. "So how are you? I'm, uh… Well…" He cleared his throat and laughed dryly. "You know how I wasn't at the Treaty of Versailles? Yeah… I was promised stuff for helping the Allies in the war and then I didn't get any of that and now everything's chaotic and a mess and I was kind of wondering if you had any work available because the government just forgets to give me and brother our pay. Or they refuse to. Or they can't. I don't know anymore. So, do you?"
Germany was still only halfway through processing his rushed explanation for suddenly dropping by like that. "Uh, I guess," he answered Italy's second question, the one about his absence at Versailles the year before.
Immediately the older kingdom's gaze lit up hopefully. "Really? Grazie, grazie tanto! Does that mean I can stay here for a little while, too? Please say yes!" When Germany, who was overwhelmed by the Italian's energy in contrast to his own exhaustion, didn't answer right away, Veneziano added in a rush: "I can do the cooking and the cleaning, too! Romano is doing the governmental work while I was sent off to earn money to send home. Please?" He kept on begging for a bit longer, until Germany just shushed him in a brief moment of panic. His tired mind couldn't keep track anymore.
"All right, all right!" he interrupted the older nation, who fell silent instantly. Ah, the sweet silence. Music to the German's ears. "Just shut up already, will you? Honest to God, Italy, you're more annoying than I thought sometimes…"
Italy didn't respond to that blunt comment, instead skipping past the young republic in another outburst of energetic enthusiasm. "Thanks again for letting me stay, Germany!" he said happily, reminding the other of what he had just agreed to without thinking it through.
By the stars, he'd just wanted Italy to stop talking like that. He'd just wanted him to slow down so that he could follow what he was on about. He'd just wanted silence and solitude so that he could work.
But now, seeing Italy's hopeful gaze and his grateful smile, he just couldn't send him away anymore. Why had he inherited a soft spot for him from his brother, honestly? It really didn't come in handy. On the contrary, it was as inconvenient as could be. On top of all that, how was he going to tell Italy that there were no jobs, that searching for work here was perhaps even more useless than it was in Italy -why had he come here in the first place? Didn't he know that Germany was the absolute worst place to be at the moment? Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but still.
"Uh…" he stammered, unsure what to do with this sudden mess. "Just… wait until Prussia's home, all right? See what he says."

He shouldn't have put his trust in Prussia to solve his mess.
The albino, despite nearly collapsing from exhaustion, jumped in joy when he saw the Italian and tackle-hugged him before drowning the poor guy in questions; how had he been? How was Romano doing? Why was he here? Oh, was it really that bad? He just went on and on with things like that until he almost really did collapse. Prussia staggered mid-sentence, only just managing to regain his balance, but then Germany was already dragging him to the couch before he could hurt himself.
"It's really good to see you, Veneziano!" the free state continued from there, smiling wide at his friend. "I've missed you, I really have! You should've come by sooner! Oh… wait, that was during the war… never mind." The rest of the evening, until he fell asleep in the middle of a conversation, Prussia seemed almost drunk on Italy's presence. He really loved his company.
While Germany liked seeing Prussia happy, of course… because he really did…
Why had he inherited a soft spot for him from his brother, honestly?
For God's sake, he'd known. Germany had known full well that Prussia basically had a geographical crush on both Italians, Veneziano most of all. He loved everything about them, from their climate to their history to their cuisine. The language, the culture, the topography, the geography. Every. Single. Thing.

So they were stuck with Italy Veneziano now. As Prussia would say it, had he still been awake…
Just… awesome.
Dammit.

So more Italy in the next chapter! I was planning to incorporate some more canon things between Germany and Italy in #15... Heh. You probably know what I'm talking about.

As a quick note about the Hetalia Fandom Awards, that favourite artist I mentioned got a shit ton of nominations~! Dude deserves them~~
(You may also know who I'm talking about with this one... *nervous laugh*) Crossing my fingers that he'll get votes, too ('cuz I don't know how to do either...)

Anyways, thanks for reading again and I hope you liked the chapter!