Dinner was tense, to say the least. The pasta was, of course, delicious. The atmosphere, however, left much to be desired. Germany was tense. He was waiting for either Prussia to start blabbing the details of his sexual encounter with Romano, or for Romano to finally realize that he'd lost his virginity to one of the Potato Bastard's closest relatives.
Instead of being talkative, however, Prussia just looked content and vaguely tired. Even more surprisingly, Romano didn't look angry. He just looked kind of confused. Well, alright, he did look a little angry, but no more than usual.
"So," Germany said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Will you two be seeing each other again after this?"
Romano glared at him. "What are you implying?" he demanded hotly. "You think I'm the type of guy who would -- would do the things that the perverted cabbage and I did without seeing him again? Maybe you're some kind of macho man slut Hasselho, but Prussia and I don't just do things with people and then run off and leave them! Is that what you're planning on doing with my brother?"
Prussia opened his mouth to go into annoyingly supportive boyfriend mode when Veneziano unwittingly interrupted. "Well, he hasn't yet! Could you pass the bread basket?"
There was a hard silence as Romano decided not to read anything into his brother's statement.
"So," Prussia said, and Romano winced, anticipating something horrible and perverted to come out of Prussia's mouth. His calm, relaxed attitude had probably just been a build-up to this moment of lewd, disgusting --
"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you," Prussia said.
It was worse than Romano had feared. He attempted to hide under his napkin.
"What?" Germany asked, nonplussed.
"Not talking to you, bruder," Prussia replied, not taking his eyes off Romano. "I'm talking to the spazzy little tomatoface who I just confessed my love for." To add insult to injury (or, rather, the other way around), Prussia punctuated his statement with a sharp kick under the table to Romano's shin.
Hmph. If that perverted cabbage thought that he could bully Romano into doing things, he was wrong. That may have worked in the bedroom, when Prussia had full access to his haircurl, but not now. Romano jutted out his lip and stared at Prussia in a stubborn fashion.
"See how cute he is, peeking out all shy from behind his napkin?" Prussia asked, ruffling Romano's hair.
"I'm not cute and I'm definitely not shy, you perverted--"
"Germany, Germany!" Veneziano squealed. "Look at how red Romano's face is! That's 'I love you too' in Romano-language! He does that to me too, whenever I say that I love him!"
"My face gets red when I'm mad, idiot," Romano snapped. "And you always make me mad, especially when you go around saying embarrassing stuff like that!"
"Romano~" Prussia cooed.
"Shut up," Romano said.
"Romano~" Prussia repeated in the same tone. Romano glanced at Germany, wondering how on earth Germany was capable of missing the threat lacing Prussia's voice. The potato bastard was frowning, but Romano wasn't sure whether that was because of Prussia's less-than-sweet undertones or because the wind had shifted and his face had gotten stuck like that.
"Shut up," Romano answered again.
Prussia scooted closer to him and tilted Romano's chin towards him. "Come on, sugarlips. You were screaming my name so loud that our brothers could hear it across your house. Is admitting that you love me -- and I know you do, I'm too awesome for unrequited love no matter what lies and slander Hungary tries to spread -- is admitting that you love me really more embarrassing?"
"Ye-- no-- That's a trick question, you asshole!" Romano yelled. "And what does Hungary have to do with this?"
"Old thing," Prussia said in an utterly dismissive tone.
"Hmph," Romano replied succinctly, falling into a sulk.
"Romano's jealous!" Veneziano translated helpfully.
"I am not!" Romano yelled defensively. "That's just dumb! Why would I be jealous of a girl who -- I'm not -- that's just dumb! You're such an idiot, Veneziano!"
Veneziano, used to Romano's constant stream of insults smiled blithely back, so Romano threw a sauce-drenched noodle at his face. It landed across the bridge of his nose and stuck there, leaving Veneziano cross-eyed and preoccupied with trying to reach it with his tongue until an exasperated Germany handed him a napkin.
"Look," Germany said in what he hoped was a tone that was slow and rational enough to appeal even to the three people least likely to listen to him. "I'm not sure that this date went very well."
"Speak for yourself," Prussia said with a leer, taking advantage of his close proximity to Romano to give Romano's hair curl a solid yank.
"Chigi!" Romano yelped before scooting away from Prussia.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Germany said decisively. "None of the books I've read on the subject would describe that as a healthy relationship. Prussia has had one night stands before, and I'm sure Romano would prefer if this was nothing more than--"
"What the fuck," Prussia said in bemused disbelief. "Are you seriously trying to tell me that you don't think that Romano and I should be together despite the fact that you were the one who set us up and we just had awesome sex and I just confessed my love for him? That's freakishly controlling, even for you, West."
"I'm not saying -- I was being helpful," Germany said, rubbing his temples as he felt a headache creeping up on him. "I just think that you should consider what Romano has to say about this. I'm not sure that you really considered his feelings when you dragged him off to the bedroom and I'm not sure you're considering them right now by suddenly declaring your 'awesome' love for him. I'm sure he's feeling very vulnerable after what was presumably his first--"
Romano threw his entire bowl at Germany. It bounced off of his chest and dumped in his lap. Veneziano eyed it contemplatively and for one horrifying moment, Romano thought that Veneziano would do something like eat it off of Germany's lap or suggest that Germany take off his pants. Or both. Eurgh.
"Romano, stop making disgusted faces and staring in the general direction of my brother's crotch and just tell him that you love me so that he'll stop trying to defend your honor. Otherwise he'll call you vulnerable again, along with who knows what other idiotic adjectives. I can almost guarantee the word delicate will come up." Prussia punctuated his order with a jab to Romano's side, making Romano scowl as he jerked away.
"Fine, whatever. I love you, even if you're a potato-y manslut," Romano snapped as Prussia did an in-seat victory dance.
"Is potato-y a word?" Veneziano asked, looking genuinely curious as he helped Germany clean up the pasta.
"It is now," Prussia said cheerfully. "Take that, bruder. See, it's a totally healthy relationship!"
Germany continued frowning. "Prussia. Be serious, please. You've known Romano for, what, a few hours now? Less than a day. Love is a big step in a relationship, and I just don't want to see--"
"So you're saying that you didn't love Veneziano at first sight?" Prussia asked, sounding shocked.
Romano had to suppress a surprised smile. Prussia was good.
"Of course not," Germany said. "I thought he was weak and annoying for a long time after I met him. It wasn't until much, much later that --" Germany was cut off by the sounds of Veneziano bursting into tears. Germany quickly began patting the crying nation awkwardly in what was probably supposed to be a comforting manner.
"Veneziano, did you fall in love with Germany right away?" Prussia asked as the crying quieted to dismayed sniffles.
"Well, not right away," Veneziano said, much to Germany's relief. "I thought he was big and scary at first! But then exactly, um, twenty-three seconds after we met, I realized that he had a really good heart and I fell in love!" The dismayed sniffles returned in full force. "B-but Germany didn't love me back!"
"And now he's trying to stop Prussia and me from falling in love," Romano said, egging Veneziano on. "I don't think that potato bastard even believes in love!"
"It's okay, püppchen," Prussia told Romano comfortingly, slinging an arm around Romano's shoulders. Romano stiffened, but decided to allow it because, damnit, they were so fucking close.
"That's not what I meant," Germany said frantically, beginning to seriously lose his composure. "Veneziano, what we have is different from Prussia and Romano. Prussia and Romano had sex. Having sex isn't the same as being in love."
"We have sex too!" Veneziano protested. "Does that mean you really don't love me?"
Romano pulled away from Prussia in order to pull Veneziano into a possessive, brotherly hug. "I think you'd better go," he told Germany coldly. He led Veneziano away from the table. "Come on, idiot. The potatoes can show themselves out."
* * *
This sucked.
Breaking up West and Veneziano was supposed to be fun. It had been fun, especially that last day spent with Romano. Having fun hadn't been the problem. The thing was, while it was supposed to be fun, it was only supposed to be a means to an end and that end was supposed to involve him and his brother partying hard and drinking lots of beer without getting distracted by "checking in" with Veneziano or going home early because Veneziano had a shoe-tying crisis or not going out at all so that Veneziano didn't get lonely. Not sitting around the house moping.
Not that Prussia was moping. Hell no. He was having an awesome time, basking in his own presence and occasionally trying to prod West into doing something interesting. West was an idiot and not complying, though. He just sat around the house watching bad Italian soap operas. He was almost more fun when he and Italy --
Blasphemy, Prussia thought, cutting off his previous thought. What would Romano think if he knew that Prussia regretted breaking up West and Veneziano?
Although, why did it matter what Romano thought? Romano had kicked him and West out of his house two weeks ago, and that had been the last that Prussia had heard from him. West had made a halfhearted attempt to reconcile with Veneziano and had been quickly dismissed by Romano, who had told him on no uncertain terms that potato bastards were no longer welcome on Italian soil. Germany might have pressed the issue further, but Romano had donned a fedora (Mm, Romano in a fedora. West was a lucky bastard and he didn't he even realize it.) and called on a mafia hit team to enforce the new anti-potato bastard rule.
This sucked.
Prussia stared at the ceiling. He was bored.
Stupid West, being all broody.
Stupid Romano, being all... not talking to him even though they didn't have any reason to talk any more.
Stupid Veneziano. Prussia didn't know why he was mad at Veneziano. He just needed more people to be mad at, really.
Stupid Austria, too. Austria was always fun to be mad at.
The phone rang. Maybe it was Romano, calling to apologize! Prussia sprung to the phone. "Hello, you've reached the awesome Prussia! If you're calling to apologize--"
"Why would I want to apologize?" Romano demanded.
Hell yeah! He was amazing. Probably psychic too, Prussia congratulated himself.
"I don't know, why do you want to apologize?" Prussia asked suavely.
"I don't!" Romano yelled. "Stupid jerk. I just... Look. I'm calling to. Shut up."
Prussia frowned. "Huh?"
"It's not that I want those two back together," Romano said hurriedly. "I don't. I hate potato bastards and my brother is an idiot for ever associating with one."
"That's why we broke them up," Prussia agreed. "Your point?"
"Veneziano has been moping and whining and annoying. I'd forgotten how freakishly clingy he is. Normally he directs all that towards Germany, but since the potato bastard isn't around, it's up to me to make sure that his shoes are tied and a million other dumb things. Worst of all, he's moping and it sucks. Every three seconds, he bursts into tears and starts bawling about how that bowl or this tuft of grass or that crack in the wall reminds him of Germany. It's driving me nuts."
"Ha ha ha!" Prussia laughed loudly in the phone. "Well, that sucks for you, püppchen. West and I are having a blast! We're living it up, two awesome bachelors! Life is one big party!"
Romano was silent for a moment. "Is that 'Un Posto al Sole' I hear in the background? And... crying?"
"No!" Prussia exclaimed. "That's just the television."
"Right. 'Un Posto al Sole' is usually found on the television," Romano agreed dryly. "Why are you watching Italian soap operas?"
"Guido!" Germany yelled loudly. "How could she leave you like that?"
"Huh, nevermind. That explains it all, I guess," Romano said.
"I'm happy," Prussia insisted. "Our plan worked out perfectly! Everything went according to plan, thanks to my awesomeness."
"And that's why the potato bastard is crying over Italian soap operas," Romano said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Makes perfect sense."
"I'm happy," Prussia insisted. "Our plan worked out perfectly! Everything went according to plan, thanks to my awesomeness."
"Right," Romano said, completely unconvinced.
It took a bit of work over the course of a very loud, angry phone conversation to get the two masters of denial to come to the realization that they both secretly wanted to reunite Germany and Veneziano. They were both resourceful, however, and once they had come to the conclusion that that they had the same goal, they quickly found ways to rationalize their decision.
"Veneziano's moping is annoying," Romano said.
"We never had a chance to use all other pranks," Prussia raged. "The toilet paper, Romano! The gumball machine!"
"And now the potato bastard is stealing our soap operas!" Romano continued.
"And I had this really brilliant plan involving pigeons," Prussia said. "But it won't work unless they're together."
"So we have to get them back together," Romano agreed, voice dripping with disgust at the idea. "If you tell anyone I agreed to this, I'll smother you in your sleep!"
"Sounds kinky," Prussia said, grinning into the mouthpiece of his phone. "Don't tempt me, püppchen. I want people finding out about this about as little as you do."
"So how are we going to do this?" Romano demanded. "You're the one who's always bragging about your strategy stuff."
"Because I'm awesome at it," Prussia agreed.
"So?" Romano pressed impatiently. "The plan?"
"We have to convince them that we're back together," Prussia said firmly. "And show them how great being in a relationship can be."
"You just want in my pants," Romano accused.
"Been there, done that, still have the feathers in my hair," Prussia said dismissively.
"I meant in a -- a -- you know! In a having sex kind of way!" Romano stammered furiously.
"So I figure my brother will be easier to get through to, and once he has his head back on right, we can convince him to make the first move towards re-wooing Veneziano," Prussia said. "So I'll pick you up around six and we'll come over here to make out obnoxiously on the couch."
"Why do all of your plans involve us making out?" Romano demanded. "Are you sure this isn't some kind of trick?"
"I'm an awesome strategic genius!" Prussia said defensively. "It's a good tactical move to work with what's proven to be awesome in the past. If that means all of my plans have to involve either making out or a bunch of blood and gore, then that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. What about you, Romano? Are you willing to make sacrifices to the cause or are you going to wimp out on me?"
"Shut up," Romano muttered sulkily. "Just don't be late, okay? And I'm avoiding Veneziano, so pick me up at Spain's house."
"Sure," Prussia said. "Six o'clock, see you then."
"And I'm not looking forward to it," Romano added viciously before slamming the phone down, successfully disconnecting the call.
***
Author's Note: All comments and criticism would be greatly appreciated! There's just one more chapter after this, I believe.