Germany called America after dinner.

"Germany?" America answered on the first ring, "Dude, I'm so sorry, you don't have to reschedule right away."
"It's not that," Germany said, "It was a false alarm. He's not dead."

"You ditched for no reason ?" America asked, annoyed.

"Not no reason," Germany said, "I felt him die. He felt the same, and it doesn't feel as though he exists, but it's fine, he's alive now."

"Alive as in…"

"As in standing right in front of me," Germany said.

"Germany," America said, in the cautious, gentle voice Germany hadn't heard him use since the fifties, "Have you considered that he might not… actually be alive?"

"What, you think I was so shattered by grief that I hallucinated him?" Germany asked.

"No! No, of course not. It's just that he might be, you know," America's voice dropped dramatically to an almost-whisper, "A ghost."

There are some days that are just exhausting. Days that ring you out emotionally until you're hanging on to sanity by the thinnest of threads. Germany had been awake for over twenty four hours. He had found out his brother was dead, flown across the ocean, crying the whole way, found out his brother wasn't dead, cleaned his house from top to bottom, and to top it all off, talked about his feelings . Most of the time Germany was a very serious person. Most of the time he was the sort of person who would never dream of laughing at his friends. But tonight was not most of the time. Tonight, "punch drunk" would be far too mild a term to describe his mental state.

Germany absolutely lost it.

"Hey," America said, "Hey, don't laugh, I'm being serious!"

"What'd he say? What'd he say?" Prussia asked.

"He, he thinks you're a ghost," said Germany between bouts of laughter. Prussia cackled with unrepentant glee. It had been a long time, Germany realized, since he'd heard Prussia laugh.

"Oh shit, oh shit," America said in Germany's ear, "I can hear the dying echoes of his ghostly laughter !"

Germany laughed so hard he almost couldn't stand.

"Give it here," Prussia said.

Germany couldn't talk in this state so he tossed the phone to him.

"Boo," Prussia said. Germany tried to tell him not to be mean, but he was laughing too hard.

"Oh, shit!" America said

"I'm not a ghost," Prussia said, "Though if I was a ghost I would totally haunt the shit out of you for my cruel and unnatural murder ." He added the last part in a spooky voice, and America made a sound that was not entirely unlike a whimper.

"Get a grip, kid," Prussia said, "I'm at least ninety nine percent sure I'm not a ghost. I can't phase through walls, and I ate dinner just now like a perfectly normal, corporeal person. If you find me haunting your nightmares it'll just be because your subconscious knows I'm badass, okay?"

"Okay," America said, "Okay, that's sensible."

"And if I develop any sudden cravings for brains or human blood, you'll be the fifth to know."

America chuckled a little at that, "Thanks," he said, "I'm really glad you're not dead, dude. Sorry I kinda freaked out on you."
"No problem," Prussia said, "Not-sorry in advance, cause I'm never gonna let you live this down."

America goaned, then said, "So, then does Germany want to reschedule now or…?"

Prussia glanced at Germany. He had mostly regained his composure but was still giggling intermittently.

"Nah," Prussia said, "He's still laughing at you. I think it's his bedtime."

"Okay, cool, cool," America said, "I'll just uh, go see if I can find where I left the remnants of my self-respect."

"You do that," Prussia said, and laughed as America hung up the phone.

"Why the fifth?" Germany asked.

Prussia shrugged, "It's good to keep him humble. Now, I meant what I said about bedtime."

"I'm a grown adult," said Germany.

"Who is very tired. Go to bed."

"I have work," Germany protested.

"No you don't. Bed."

Germany sighed. "Fine," he said, "Goodnight, ghost of my dearly departed brother."
"Sweet dreams," Prussia said.