Hello lovelies! Fair warning that there is some canoodling in this chapter, though it isn't very explicit.
Chapter Summary: Germany tries to ignore Prussia's ghost, but the awesome dead will not be denied.
Ch. 6: Poltergeist
October 30, 4:00 PM
Italy is in Germany's kitchen, stirring a massive vat of tomato sauce, completely unaware of the change that is about to befall him. His change, like his brother's, comes once a decade or so. And, like his brother, he never really remembers it once he's back to normal.
Germany has other issues to worry about. His dead brother is following him about the house, demanding beer. "C'mon, West! Just shake it up and spray it on me! I'm dying here...metaphorically speaking, kesese." He pokes Germany in the back of the head, his finger going right through. At least it still seems to annoy him.
It's a breeze, Germany tells himself. A breeze and his overactive imagination. He wheels around a corner, trying to drive the... the thing that is not there away, and heads into the dining room. There are baked, fried, and steamed tomatoes all set out on the table. He picks up a fried tomato and sniffs it.
"Whoa," says Prussia. "West, I think your little boyfriend's got a problem. I mean there's liking something, and then there's liking something. He's got tomatophilia! Now then. BEER. Because at least I admit I'm an alcoholic."
"Oh, shut up," Germany mutters, nibbling the fried tomato. It's not bad with the breading. Leaning over the table, he reaches for another. Suddenly the table wobbles, his hand slips, and he winds up knocking his jaw on the table on the way to the floor.
"KESESESE! That's what you get for ignoring the AWESOME ME." Prussia has discovered that he can actually channel his awesome into objects and make them move. It's not much at the moment, but with practice he'll get the beer to come to him. In the meantime, he can wobble tables and shake the bed whenever West is trying to fuck the pretty Italian.
Italy peaks out of the kitchen and spots poor Germany on the floor. "Oh Luddy!" he exclaims, rushing to help. He inspects Germany's head with tomato-coated fingers and kisses the bump on his chin. "You should be more careful, ve! Was it your back? I thought it was all better. It's been a while since you threw it out when we were having sex against the-"
While Italy continues to babble, Germany kicks his foot out and encounters... air. Of course. What was he expecting? This is all a product of his imagination, after all. He pushes Italy away and climbs to his feet. "Fine, fine. The table is just... lighter than I thought." He rests a hand on Italy's waist, drawing him in for a light kiss. "I see you have been cooking."
"Si! We are having a grand tomato feast! Tomatoes are an important part of every meal. Tomatoes and pasta!" He kisses Germany again, licking his lips. "You taste good. You feel good." Another kiss, and his hand wanders low to leave a tomato-sauce print right over his crotch.
Germany makes a noise, pulling away from Italy's lips to look down at the handprint on his best pair of pants. That's going to stain. On the other hand, Italy's got a look in his eye that says if he protests the lovemaking he may lose an important piece of his anatomy, so he decides not to comment. "Well. You're in a good mood."
"Oh, very! I don't know why, but I feel all light and happy! And I really want tomatoes. And after the tomatoes, I want you." Italy pauses, tapping his chin. "Or should it be you and then the tomatoes? I don't want to be too full."
Germany laughs a little, and decides that he doesn't really care about these slacks anyway. Some things are far more important. "You can have the tomatoes after, Vene. We will work up an appetite, ja?"
"Whoa, hold on! There has to be beer before the sex! Beer for me. You have to appease the one haunting you, right?" Prussia smirks, coming up right behind Italy and hovering over his shoulders. "Or I could just give you a full commentary, little bruder."
Italy waves his hand through the ghost. "That's not nice Prussia! Ludwig has a nice cock. It's thicker than mine! You can't drink our beer anyway."
Germany flinches at the sound of his brother's illusion, pulling away to mutter, "Not real. Not real. Not real..." This is the kind of thing one seeks therapy for! "I think I - I must take a shower!"
"Good idea! We haven't done it in there in a while." Italy grabs Germany's arm, then pauses to run back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. Germany is still standing there when he gets back, and he happily drags him upstairs, singing: "Sexy-times with Luddy, hooray, hooray! We're going to do it in the shower, today, today!"
"But...but...BEER!" Prussia points at the fridge. Then, with a disappointed sigh, he follows. "Austria would get me beer."
"Austria would get you-!" Germany sucks in a breath through his teeth. He can't believe he's arguing with a figment of his imagination, even as Italy is singing the Shower Time song, which he only ever sings when there is a very high probability of multiple orgasms. "Notrealnotrealnotreal..."
"West, come on!" Prussia frowns, poking at him. "I'm here! How can you ignore this much concentrated awesome? I'm getting really tired of it. Even Vene knows I'm here!" This has been going on for ages. He doesn't understand why West continues to ignore what's right in front of him. All the time he's been getting stronger, from a whisper and a breeze to this visible form, and he's learning to make things happen. He's real, just as real as they are. And he wants BEER. Beer and sex. The last time he tried sex was when Frannie was visiting, and it didn't really do anything for either of them. THAT was depressing. So he'll settle for the beer.
Germany is dragged into the bathroom, still chanting his little mantra. He can't concentrate on Italy like this, can't enjoy their time together. He needs to get away, to think. He tries to disentangle himself from Italy, even as his brother's illusion hangs right in his face. "Vene, I need a moment, I..."
"DAMMIT WEST!" The aura around Prussia goes dark and the lights flicker. There's so much static in the air that Italy's hair curl straightens. "I'm RIGHT HERE!" Prussia pushes Germany's chest with all the force he can muster - and suddenly, he's looking in the opposite direction.
"What the..." That's weird. His voice isn't as awesome as it usually is. And he can...he can feel the clothes on his body, the ground beneath his feet. Germany, on the other hand, feels muddled. Lost, like his eyes have rolled back in his head and his mouth has gone numb, or he's being pulled by puppet strings. He tries to shout to Italy, but nothing comes out.
Italy turns, tilting his head to the side. "Hmm? Wasn't Gilbert just here? You're so mean to him Ludwig, making him run off." He pokes him in the chest.
Prussia jumps at the poke. He felt that. Really felt it. "HOLY SHIEBE. I'm alive!"
"Are you?" Italy giggles. His hands wander again, tracing the zipper of his pants. "Feels like you are. You're all tense too, and you're kinda making a funny face. Want help?" He leans forward, eyes closed and lips parted for a kiss.
Prussia frowns. Italy is going to kiss him? He's usually so upset when Prussia tries to grope him a little, or make the towel float to smack his ass. He looks down at himself and gasps. He's wearing Germany's clothes. No...he's wearing Germany. Oh this is going to be good. "JA I do!" He grabs Italy around the middle, kissing him soundly and already fumbling with the clothes. First there will be sex. Then there will be beer. Then there will be beer AND sex.
"Mmf!" Germany is very vigorous tonight! Beyond that, Italy can hardly think. He just wants Germany naked with him, and he's not really giving it much thought beyond that.
The real Germany is screaming, beating his hands against the walls of his mind, but he can't get through. The bastard! Gilbert is not going to get away with fucking his lover! Even if it is through his body!
Prussia has them both naked and stumbling into the shower by the time the water heats up. He presses Italy back against the wall and bites his neck. "Gott that's nice. I'm gonna take you so hard, you're going to feel both of us."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing."
Germany has gone from screaming to begging to simply curling up in a little ball in his mind, praying for this to end. This isn't fair! It's like he's having an out-of-body experience. And now his clothes are everywhere! His shirt is even spattered with water from the shower.
It's very hard for Italy to concentrate with Germany sucking on his neck like that and gripping his butt, yet there's something strange. It doesn't feel right; it doesn't feel like Germany. He's never quite this crass about lovemaking, even when he's being rough. "H-hey Luddy? Are you - ooh - okay?"
"Are you kidding?" Prussia pauses long enough to lean back and smirk at Vene. "I'm ficken AWESOME!" Then he kisses him hard, bodily lifting him against the shower wall. That makes Italy frown. That does not sound like Germany at all, although the way their cocks are rubbing feels really nice...NO! He has to concentrate. Something's wrong with Germany. He's not awesome, he's worried about his brother and...everything clicks.
"GILBERT!" Italy grabs the crucifix above his head (there's one in every room, just in case), and smacks him on the head.
"OWE! Hey, what the fuck?" Prussia is forced to let go and back up against the curtain, rubbing his head. "Jesus, what kind of games have you been playing?" Italy isn't smiling, however. He's looking very angry, and holding the crucifix over Prussia in a way that makes him cower and hiss.
Light cracks before Germany's eyes and he jolts, pressing at the walls of darkness that have encased him, yelling 'OUT OUT OUT!'
"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine..." Italy recites his Latin perfectly, drawing on the power of the Vatican. Vat is a reclusive boy, but he resides within Italy's borders and is a devoted friend.
"Shiebe, ficken holle!" Prussia curses wildly, feeling everything burn and separate, not just from this body but from the world. "Stop! Fuck, just stop, I'm going, I'm going!" He rips himself out of Germany and away from the stinging words.
The light explodes before Germany's eyes, blinding him. He sways on his feet, stumbling from the shower and leaning on the towel rack to steady himself. That was horrifying. A... A seizure! It must've been a seizure! "Ah... Vene... I am feeling..." With that, he sticks his head in the toilet and vomits.
"Oh, poor Ludwig!" Italy puts the crucifix back in place and pats Germany on the back. "Mean, mean Gilbert! It's not nice to possess people, even when you're angry with them. It's okay, Luddy, you'll feel better in a few hours. He wasn't in you for too long and I only had to hit you once. Ah, sorry about your head. We can have sex after the tomatoes instead!"