Thank you to everyone that reviewed. I'm like psyched about writing this story.

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It wasn't that Prussia didn't get along with England. In fact, they were occasional drink buddies and, dare he say it, friends? So really, it wasn't so bad that he was in England. And seeing as how all his close friends had abandoned him, why not crash over at England's place?

Really the only problem was, you know, that there was a chance the old man said no. He glanced at his empty wallet.

If only he hadn't wasted his money. He could have bought another ticket to someplace else. India's place for example! And it would have even been like a sort of vacation too.

"I guess I should be grateful I didn't buy a plane ticket to Russia."

He shivered at the mere thought.

He yawned. "Well, no point in waiting." He walked out of the terminal and proceeded to find his way to England's house. He'd only been there once before but he was grateful he had a good sense of direction or else he would have been completely lost in the large city that was London.

He sighed in relief at the sight of the large and old fashioned Victorian house in front of him. He quickly pushed the small gate open and made his way to the door. Suddenly nervous, he shuffled around in his shoes before ringing the bell. As he waited, he took the time to look at the garden. It wasn't fancy, just grass and a row of bushes hugging the house but it was well tended to. He wondered where the roses were. England always talked about them. He snapped back into attention when the door opened.

He tried not to look desperate when England's surprised eyes landed on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

Feeling sheepish, Prussia rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Well. West kicked me out and I kinda got drunk and bought a ticket…well the point is I don't have money left so I'm stuck here and you're the only other person I know. So…"

The look on England's face would have burned him to a crisp, he was sure.

He wished he could pull off the kicked puppy face that America often used against England. But as Hungary had been all too happy to point out, his red eyes and ghost like features tended to ruin the effect. So he opted to pray instead.

'God. If England has a heart, he'll let me stay.'

"I'll even help around!" he blurted out, surprising himself. At England's doubtful look (doubt was good. That meant he was thinking about it, right?) Prussia continued by adding, "Yeah, I can totally clean around the house. I'm awesome at that kinda shit. I can even cook for you or like tend your garden or something." He flinched as he heard himself speak. He was making himself sound like some sort of housekeeper. So not awesome but if it meant he wouldn't have to sleep out on the street that night, he'd just have to swallow his pride.

He stopped his babbling at the sight of a small twitch on the Brit's lips. He growled in annoyance and crossed his arms like a petulant child. If England was just going to make fun of him then Prussia would just take his pride back and take that bed in the park instead. Screw the limey bastard and his pasty ass. But England didn't laugh. Instead, he sighed and opened the door wider.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up.

At the invitation, Prussia pumped his fist and shouted a loud, "Yes!" He'd somehow won! He tried to go inside but England stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Prussia found himself pinned by England's intense green eyes. The fact that England didn't even have to voice his threat was a testament to just how scary England could sometimes be. "Just a warning. Don't make me regret my decision."

But Prussia had been a former warrior born for war, so instead of feeling scared, he just brushed off England's hand and smirked triumphantly. "Don't sweat it Limey. I'll do my share of the work."

England's eyes darkened. "I'm already regretting this," he mumbled and watched with worry as Prussia walked around exploring the house. He just hoped he didn't break anything of value like a certain American tended to do

After walking around the place for bit (he did not almost topple over a vase), he made his way back to the exotically furnished hall. England wasn't there though so he backtracked and started peeking into rooms.

He found him in his living room with a cup of tea in his hand and a book in the other. He couldn't help but admire how British England was. He wondered whether he had a tray of crumpets lying around too or some scones.

England leaned his head to the side for a second, like if he was straining to hear something, and then quickly snapped his head over to Prussia. Feeling caught, Prussia cleared his throat and said, "Uh, nice place you have here."

England snorted. "Right." He took one last sip from his tea before he set it down on a small tray next to the book. He stood, dusting himself off and raised an eyebrow at him. "Well. No offense old chap, but you look more dead than alive."

"That's what drinking and sleeping in an uncomfortable position does to you," he mumbled.

"I suppose you'd like to shower." He walked towards the stairs and motioned for him to follow. "I'll show you to your quarters." England hummed. "I'm just going to assume you brought nothing with you."

"And you'd assume correctly."

"So I'll just lie some of America's clothes out for you."

Prussia's eyes bugged out and he couldn't help but whistle and say, "Whoa! I didn't know that things were like that."

England froze in the middle of the hall and turned to glare at him. "No! It's not like that." He waved his hand vaguely. "America occasionally barges into my home, either scared after watching a movie, or wanting to watch one with me. No matter which of the two it is, he refuses to leave and always ends up sleeping over. This has been a common occurrence since the rise of the horror film industry. So I've learned to keep spare clothes for him unless I want him to start rummaging around my things." His green eyes flashed when they landed on Prussia's face. He pointed an accusing finger at the albino. "Now you stop that right now!"

Prussia backed up and set his face into one of pure innocence. "What? I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking dirty thoughts. Stop it or I'll kick your arse to the streets."

Silence and then, "You really are an old man."

It took all of England's control not to hit the German. Good thing he was used to people like America and Frances. They had helped to build up his tolerance although they had certainly not helped with his alcohol intake. Instead, he took a deep breath and ignored the insult, shooting one of his own. "This way, Kraut."

He held back a smirk at Prussia's face. Serves him right.

"Not awesome," the Prussian mumbled but kept his mouth shut until he was in his temporary room. No point in pushing England's buttons until after he'd showered and had a good night's sleep.

"The bathroom is right across your room. I'll go get you that spare change of clothes. You may use one of the towels in the closet. Just place it in the bin when you're done using it along with your clothes."

Prussia almost didn't hear him. Instead he collapsed on the bed and sighed in contentment as the soft mattress soothed his aching back. Gilbird had already made himself at home on the pillow of the bed. He watched with a bit of envy as his bird slept.

"Need to take that shower before I can settle down to sleep." Groaning, he pushed himself back to his feet and stripped, dumping his clothes where England had indicated earlier. Scratching his chest, he strode to the bathroom. He took a moment to look around. It was a really nice bathroom. He laughed at the sight of little fairy statues. He picked one up and inspected its face. What the hell! He set it back down and got in the shower.

The spray of scalding water loosened his muscles and he found himself relaxing. Glancing around, his eyes settled on a bottle of shampoo. He read the label. Ocean spray? He shrugged. At least it wasn't roses like France or manly smell like Germany. He squeezed a generous amount of the gel into his palm and rubbed it into his hair. He began humming the Prussian anthem.

By the time he finished and made his way back to the room, it was dark and he was ready to pass out. He couldn't help but smirk at the shirt and sweatpants laid out for him on the chair. He threw the towel in the bin and tugged on the clothes. They were a little too big but comfortable.

He turned off the lights and collapsed for the second time on the bed. As soon as his eyes closed, he was thrown into oblivion.

A/N: Well this was originally going to cut off mid way, cause that's how I wrote it but once I wrote the second part I just decided to put them together. So anyway, tell me what you think. Again, if there are any mistakes don't be shy to tell me. I'm also trying to improve my writing so any helpful tips are much appreciated.

Notes:

Limey – a British person

Kraut – a WWII slang/insult that mean German (actually, literally it means cabbage).

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