34. The Morning After

Date Written: March 8, 2019

Date Posted: October 26 2019

Characters: Veneziano, Austria

Summary: The aftermath after hours of drinking.

Notes: Part Three of a three part series.

"I fear that the apocalypse may be upon us." Austria took a sip of his tea before gesturing with an offhand manner—yet was still so poised and regal—towards two men of differing temperaments drunkenly trying to sing.

The duo in question was Germany (drunk from beer) and Romano (also drunk, but from wine). They had taken to alcohol shortly after dinner in what appeared to be a contest of wills. Both Austria and Veneziano had watched in disbelief as the two managed to drink their best stores to dust and cobwebs. Even Romano, who had take wine as his wife, quickly drank her every drop that he brought until he started reaching for the beer.

Veneziano tried to stop his brother from indulging, but he was rudely shoved back.

"Sorry, Veneziano! But let me try out this gross shit, huh?" And Romano drank.

As if spurred on by a demon, Germany had taken to drink like a starved man seeing food for the first time in days.

And so they drank and talked.

Much to the horror of the bystanders, they began talking in the midst of their drinking. The talking became arguing. Arguing escalated into yelling. Eventually, that soon evolved (devolved?) into whatever classification their current inclination brought them to.

Veneziano called it singing offkey.

Austria called it the screams of the damned.

Either way, the duo were so loud that both of their sober members of the party walked outside into the garden for relief.

It wasn't a particularly bright evening. Clouds had hidden the waxing moon from showing her face. The only other available light was the fluorescence from indoors, which was hidden by the gauzy curtains and windows. Regardless of the low visuals, they still managed to walk the length of Austria's somewhat well maintained garden before coming across a small stone bench—a gift that came from Prussia when he had been feeling charitable.

Veneziano settled onto the left. "This evening is turning out better than what I had envisioned."

Austria tutted softly before giving Veneziano a cup of tea. Ever the coffee drinker, the Italian still graciously thanked his host. The burn of alcohol keeping him warm was one thing, warmth from a fresh brew from an old friend was another.

"Careful," the brunet murmured near silently. "It's a touch scalding."

"You be careful," Veneziano sniped back with good humor. He took a measured sip and immediately wished he hadn't. "Whoa! You're just as bad as England when it comes to preparing tea!"

"With the amount of coffee you consume daily, one would think that you would have been used to the temperature."

Veneziano sputtered as he carefully placed the teach up the cold stone. "There's a difference, Austria! I live and die for coffee. Tea is…" He shrugged his shoulders.

The normally stoic Nation cracked a smile. "Perhaps if you had given me more than an hour's notice, I would have comfortably stocked up on one of your favorite brews."

"Didn't I give you two hours?"

"Apologies, I'll work faster in the interim."

Veneziano, unsurprisingly, let out a peal of laughter. It was a comforting sound when one was surrounded by darkness on all sides and one's house was now overrun with two drunk hooligans. Back when Austria had ruled over Veneziano, he didn't appreciate the beauty of such a heartfelt sound. Like most things in life, you could tell that Venziano poured his heart and soul into it. Each peal of laughter was another note struck on his piano like a childish rendition of Vivaldi's Spring.

When Veneziano finally sobered from his laughing spell, Austria spoke.

"Would you believe me if I said that I missed this?"

He could feel the stare of the Northern Italian peer up at his face. It had been a century, maybe two if he was doing the math right, but the young man was still a touch shorter than him. Ah, to be young again…

All too soon, the joviality of the evening gave way to a more somber mood. The change came as quickly as the clouds blocking the visage of the moon drifted away. Austria looked to his right, his hand still preoccupied with half a cup of lukewarm tea.

"You used to have the voice of an angel: high pitched, impressive range, and the brightness of one so young." He fiddled with the rim of his cup.

"And now? Do I sound like an angel?"

Austria shook his head. "I fear that it's been quite some time since I've personally heard your singing voice."

Did he mean to sound that cunning? Like a small child trying to convince his mother for one more treat before bed. Oh, how low had he sunk? However, he wasn't all too dishonest. It had been years since he and the Italian had a duet where the younger man had sung.

The auburn haired man must have the same thoughts because he looked up at the Austrian with an impish grin.

"I fear I can no longer sing without the aid of your music."

Austria felt his lips spread into a wide smile. "I doubt two drunkards would mind too much if it we added music to the frightful noise they're making. Certainly, my neighbors would have raised a fuss already."

Veneziano shrugged. That was enough as an answer as both men trekked back to the house—this time, the moonlight was strong and unobstructed.

Once inside the house, they were quite surprised to find that both of their guests had collapsed onto the floor, faces flushed, and bottles strewn around them. Further inspection revealed that both of them were out cold and at some point, they managed to switch their shirts and shoes. While Romano looked like he was only wearing a blanket atop his torso, Germany had foregone the action way of doing a shirt and opted to wrap it around his head.

A quick glance at his companion revealed that Veneziano had whipped out his cell phone and had begun to take several pictures. Blackmail material, no doubt. Austria may have scoffed at such childish behavior from a Nation as old as Italy, but thought of the aftermath filled him with unprecedented happiness. A part of him wished Prussia were here to take part in the festivities, but realized something crucial—the stupid albino would have turned his place upside down, drank his home dry, and paraded out into the street as bare as a newly birthed babe.

"Ah, it look like playing the piano now would be disastrous." Veneziano sighed in disappointment as he surveyed his brother trying to cuddle onto the floor. "I really wanted to sing with you again."

"Nobody would care if you were out of tune if you sing outside. It would be an honor to hear from you again."

For a moment, Austria thought that his companion would decline. It was almost two in the morning, the air outside was chilly, and—

"You have to sing with me, then."

If Austria thought himself cunning before, Veneziano was downright conniving.

"Very well then." Austria grinned at Veneziano. "Be sure to cover your ears. My proficiency at playing instruments outshines my ability to sing."

As one, they walked out into the garden under the gleaming moonlight.