~ 11 ~

The house was quiet except for the loud bickering and insults being passed back and forth in the kitchen. It was dimly lit by the overcast sky and the counters were a mess with bowls of half cut vegetables and fruit. On the table there was a pile of leftovers.

"Are you done stuffing the potatoes?"

"Shut up. Are you done making the sauce?"

"Of course! I'm the bomb when it comes to cooking. Unlike some people."

A knife flew passed Prussia's head and embedded itself on the wall. The albino whistled, impressed by the aim and the force behind it. "Hey, that was pretty good. It's nice to know you haven't gotten rusty."

The Brit's eyes flashed in irritation. "Will you focus? We're leaving at eight and at this pace we'll never finish."

The two odd balls were in the kitchen trying to use the last bit of food, which were mostly fruits and vegetables and some leftovers. Originally Prussia had proposed just eating everything (minus the leftovers). He'd actually proposed throwing that away but England had been against wasting food and had offered instead feeding it to the strays. Prussia decided, after a moment of deliberation, that if he did, it could pass as animal cruelty. After much arguing, England grudgingly agreed to use the leftovers as compost for the garden at his cottage. As for the edible food, England had suggested that they experiment. That meant Prussia couldn't leave him alone. Not in the kitchen.

After some more arguing they settled on something simple. A vegetable stew and fruit salad. Prussia had made himself in charge of the stew, having way too much fun tossing in vegetable after vegetable. Right now he was adding two fistfuls of spinach while England finished up with the potatoes, humming contently under his breath.

He made a move towards the oven but Prussia stopped him before he could even touch it.

"Uh-uh buddy. I'm in charge of this." He yanked the tray out of England's hands and opened the oven with his foot. "I'm the expert with potatoes. You get back to the fruits."

Although he wasn't happy about it, the potatoes had been Prussia's idea so he let him have them. He paused for a moment by the stew and brought the spoon up to taste. Hum, it was missing something. He reached towards his spice shelf and pulled something that looked vaguely good and added it in.

"Whoa!" the albino yelled as he slammed the oven shut and practically jumped the Brit. "What the hell did you put in?" Prussia shoved him away from his stew and grabbed at the spice to read the label.

England growled and crossed his arms. "It was too bland. I added some salt."

Prussia's pale face told a different story. "Yeah, I could see that. But did you have to drown the stew in it?"

England's face flushed. "I did not drown it. My hand just slipped a bit. It's fine."

There was a chocking sound as Prussia made the mistake of tasting it. He sputtered, turning his face away from the food and hacked up a lung. The spoon clattered to the ground and Prussia gasped out, "Fine! For a fish maybe. And that's a big fucking maybe." Groaning, Prussia slammed his head on the counter. "I can't fix that shit. I'm not a five star chef like France. He could have probably fixed it. All that's left now is to throw it out." He moved to do just that but he was yanked back by England grabbing hold of his shirt.

Again he was chocked and Prussia struggled to get free.

"Oh no you don't," England hissed. "We're not wasting perfectly good food."

"Good?" he cried as he rubbed at his sore throat.

But there was no room for argument.

Half an hour later the both of them were sitting around the table, England calmly sipping his soup while Prussia sat looking miserable. He poked around the soup, cringing at the sight of a floating carrot. It looked like a corpse.

"Thanks to your craptastic cooking, another meal was ruined." Because not even the potatoes had been spared. Prussia blamed England. If he hadn't been distracted he wouldn't have put the heat on that high.

His comment went ignored. Mostly.

At least the salad came out okay. England had a knack for cutting things up, that's for sure. The yogurt had been a nice touch.

"I'm just curious," Prussia said after a moment of forcing himself to mentally turn off his taste buds to swallow the gruesome excuse for stew. He waved his spoon at England's direction. "Have you tried taking cooking lessons?"

"Are you making fun of me?"

He considered this for a moment and then shook his head. "Naw. That was an honest question. I'm just wondering how one person can fuck up so bad. And apparently it's contagious too cause I've never burned potatoes before. Ever."

"For your information, I don't burn everything. I'm a decent cook."

There was a snort but England ignored it and pressed on.

"I just…sometimes, my hand slips or I'm thinking…"

"So in other words, you're absentminded? Wow!" Prussia said with exaggerated animation. "I never would have guessed. A responsible gentleman like you?"

England grunted. If there was one thing he hated it was being mocked. "Oh, you Mr. I'm awesome at baking potatoes? Blaming me when clearly it was your fault. You're just as bad a cook as I."

"You didn't say anything when you were shoveling my food into your mouth every morning."

There was a loud clatter as England slammed his spoon down and scraped his chair backwards. Wordlessly he turned and left the surprised Prussian behind. Prussia wasn't sure what to make of the flash of hurt he saw come across the Brits face. Everything he'd said was true and definitely not stuff that hadn't been said before. There was no reason for him to get that look in his eyes and make Prussia feel like an asshole.

A door slammed and he winced. Just a little.

Prussia went back to staring at his food before he growled and shoved his bowl away. He looked over at Gilbird who was staring at him from her perch on top of one of the chairs. Her steady gaze was accusing.

"Not you too," he groaned. He slumped back on his seat and crossed his arms. "This is not my fault," he said with finality. The fact that he was defending himself from his bird didn't even register in his mind. Just another day in the life of Prussia the awesome. So he continued talking. "Especially since I have no idea what I said to make England react like that."

The constant silence though was getting on his nerves, like if it was accusing him too.

What?" he asked the air. He wasn't exactly expecting an answer because no matter how many years he'd had Gillybird, she'd never talked back to him.

Well, he wasn't about to apologize…even though he felt bad now and he hated feeling bad because it meant he'd done something wrong and he didn't like admitting mistakes. That was for losers and he was most definitely not a loser. He was the awesome former Kingdom of Prussia. He'd kicked ass during his younger days and made a name for himself. People had feared and respected him. Except he wasn't a kingdom anymore. He was just Prussia, the ex-nation living off of the charity of others.

…Fuck.

He tried to force his brain to come up with a reason for England's hurt look but his eyes only drifted to his stew and burnt potatoes. Gott, looking at the sad excuse for food only intensified his guilt. And things had been going so well too.

There was nothing he could do now except pray that England didn't decide to kick him out after all. He reached over to pick up his plates when he suddenly found himself with a face full of water. No warning, no nothing. One blink and bam! It dripped down his cheeks, chin, and neck and he gaped at nothing, frozen half way between standing up and sitting back down.

He immediately jumped to his feet and spun around, hands swinging, only to see empty space. He snuck a look at Gilbird but she was in the exact same place except she'd puffed up and was piyoing and flapping her wings.

"What the fuck just happened." The question slipped from his lips in one breath (not with panic or anything) and he found himself looking around again. Nothing. Where in the hell had the water come from anyway? He focused his gaze back the table and took steady calming breathes.

He was not going to let this get to him.

"Great," he grumbled as he made his way to the sink. He whipped at his face with his shirt. "Things just keep getting better and better." He caught sight of the mess they'd left behind and cringed as he said aloud, "I might as well," secretly hoping it would be enough to make amends with England without actually saying sorry.

No such luck. Prussia was just finishing his sweep of the kitchen when England came down to get a snack. He'd stood back, hopeful, but England didn't even look at him. He just plucked a biscuit and went back to his room. Prussia watched him leave for the second time that day, smile slipping from his face to be replaced with a scowl. He threw the mop down with frustration (kicked it for good measure).

"Fuck this shit," he said and gave up his kissing up to watch some movies. By the time eight rolled in, neither was in a good mood but they were too stubborn to make the first move.

England silently put his suitcase in the back while Prussia stood back.

"I'll lock the door," he grumbled and England just nodded. Well, at least they were being civil. Sighing, Prussia made his way back and took shot-gun because even if they weren't speaking to each other, he was not going to take the back seat. England said nothing and started the car. It was silent for the first minutes as England fiddle with the radio and soon music filled the car.

Prussia was transported back to the eighties and he couldn't help but grin. He would have made a snide remark but there's a reason England had turned on the music. He didn't want to talk. So Prussia kept his mouth shut and instead stared out the window. His elbow bumped against the glass. Rivulets of water dragged down one by one and he couldn't help himself from counting them.

He sneezed and slowly but surely found his eyes slipping closed.

oOo

Cold.

He looked across the snow covered landscape, sword in hand, blood dripping from down its hilt.

Corpses.

"Forward!" he heard his leader yell and he raised his sword in reverence. But his eyes stayed on the corpses. Faceless masses decapitated and slaughtered.

The army marched forward.

He tried not to stagger but the snow was deep and he was still rather small. All around him his people walked with grim determination.

Expand and conquer.

He has no name yet. No proper home. He moves with his people. He fights with them because that's what they do.

They pass a village girl leaning over a body. Her cries silence his men and they pass her as they would a sleeping bear. They say nothing and yet she says something to them. Her language is foreign and he doesn't understand but her eyes say it all.

Your fault.

Murderers.

But...how can this be wrong?

Blood is just the color of war.

Right?

Prussia startled awake and glared out the window. It was still raining outside. He sat back, cracking his neck. The radio had been turned down low and there was a very calming atmosphere in the car.

"Awake are you?"

Surprised that the Brit was talking to him he said, "Oh, so silent treatment is over."

Pause. "Shut up."

There was no malice or anger in the statement and Prussia laughed. Good. Things were back to normal. He leaned back, hands behind his head couldn't help but cockily say, "Aw, but you must have missed my awesome voice if you're willing to crack first."

England's only response was to raise the volume on the radio. But Prussia didn't mind. Now that things were cool between them again he could finally enjoy the ride. He wasn't going to admit it but having England angry at him felt weird.

Einsem

He grimaced as his mind wandered back to his dream. What was it with him recently dreaming unpleasant memories? That one wasn't as bad as the last but he tended not to want to remember the darker times with his knights. He could boast about the conquest itself, but not about what it took to make it happen. Most nations didn't boast about such things. Not even Russia.

"Are we almost there?" Prussia asked hoping to distract himself from his thoughts.

England hummed an affirmative.

Wracking his brain for something else to start a conversation he said, "Want to play I Spy?"

"Prussia," England said, his tone sounding like he would when addressing a child. "I'm driving. In the rain."

"So?"

"So work out why that would be a bad idea."

Oh yeah. He leaned back in his seat and started humming along to the song on the radio.

"Prussia," England began. Said nation turned to give him a curious look. That tone of voice didn't sound good. The other nation gripped the wheel harder and said, "What…were you dreaming about?"

Shit. Had he been talking in his sleep? Germany had once told him he did it occasionally but he'd thought he'd managed to kick it in the butt a long time ago. He looked for Gilbird who was supposed to wake him whenever he started talking. Where was she anyway?

He decided to play it cool. Shrugging he said, "Nothing important."

England did not look convinced but Prussia figured they weren't close enough yet for him to start bugging him about it. That and England was pretty reasonable (when sober) and perceptive. If Prussia didn't want to talk about it then they weren't going to talk about it. Case closed.

"What about you?" Prussia said.

England made a face. "What about me?"

He turned his body so he could look at the Brit. "Why'd you get so pissed?"

And then England smiled; a smile that Prussia couldn't quite place. Sad? Resigned? "Nothing important."

Prussia huffed. He had been hoping for something more insightful. "Throwing words back at my face isn't very gentleman of you."

"And I believe I already explained myself to you why I don't much care." The amusement was back in his voice and it made Prussia feel like a child.

He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or special.

oOo

It was a miracle of God that once they got to the little cottage the rain had stopped. It was dark but at least now he could see the stars. And it was a beautiful view. More stars then Prussia had ever remembered seeing in the last hundred years. Towns and artificial lights tended to ruin night skies, but this. This was awesome. He actually stood staring for a good two minutes until England shoved him forward.

"In the house git."

Since it was dark, he couldn't really make out how it looked but it was definitely smaller than the house in London. While he admired what he could make of the garden (a real garden too, big and it even smelled like roses), England unlocked the door. He flicked on a lamp. If Prussia hadn't been so tired, he would have taken the time to walk around the house and admire everything. But his eyes were watery and achy and his back was hurting again for taking that nap in the car. He really needed to get Ita to massage it or something or else it could become chronic. For all these reasons, Prussia didn't feel too bad when England directed him to the room he was going to be staying in.

Tomorrow though. Tomorrow he was so going exploring because from what he'd seen, this little cottage was the complete opposite of the house in London. Warm and homey in a way he would have never associated England with.

He wondered what else there was to know about England.

A/N: Yay! Update! Anyway so things are...going along. Just a fair warning, updates will be slower because I have school and lots of reading and writing to do. But I won't stop writing the story. No matter what, I'm gonna finish this. Thanks for the wonderful reviews guys.

Translation:

Einsem - Lonely