This is becoming "What Haya should be doing instead of uploading and putting the finishing touches on TaTouTL" section... XD Cause right now Haya should be watching a movie with her twin, but no, because she loves you wonderful readers, Haya is going through here, finding the translations, putting those up, and waiting for Go-chan to remind her what the chapter title is for this x3 But Haya thinks twinny is getting annoyed so she is gonna let Go-chan handle that now... But now Haya has been working on this during the movie... And now we're starting another and Haya is trying to finish this up before it starts... You all better love me! XD So yup! Read, review, enjoy! :D

Chapter Three:Spanish Breakout from Prussian and Italian Encirclement

It came as no surprise that Prussia's definition of 'help me out' was much different than the normal meaning. It was hard enough for the egoist to actually ask for help, but to be consistently assisted in his plan? There was no way Prussia would stand for that! All he wanted from his friends were ideas on ways of hooking up his brother and Italy. And that was how the first few plans were played out, Prussia running solo.

It was easy to see after several failed attempts to get Germany and Italy alone that Prussia couldn't play the lone wolf. Every time he tried to run off either Italy or Germany would make him stick around. So the ever so proud Prussian reluctantly started incorporating his friends into the plans. With the help of France and Spain, Prussia's mission seemed to start showing some hope. He had succeeded in getting the two lovebirds to see a movie together, several 'dates' at restaurants, and plenty of quality time together, all within a week too! Each time, he 'just so happened' to run into France and was able to leave the Italian and German. He'd rather hang out with Spain, but ever since the strip poker incident, Romano had the Spaniard on a short leash.

Despite, in his opinion, the great success so far, Prussia couldn't shake the feeling that something was still wrong. Perhaps it was just the fact there had been little progress relationship-wise... But how would that explain his extreme annoyance whenever he saw Italy hanging on West, giving a kiss on the cheek, getting a kiss on the cheek? He just didn't get it! When he brought it up with France, the stupid blond just chuckled and refused to explain it! Stupid bastard. What he really needed to do was talk with Spain…

Damn, once all this was over he really needed to lock himself in his room for a few weeks and play video games. He was being so sociable; it was pathetic. Really, he was The Amazing Prussia and hanging with others was just cramping his style! Sure, going out with his pals from time to time was great, but this amount of human interaction was just weird for the former nation that was so used to being alone… Okay maybe he was really enjoying it, but there was no way he'd ever admit it. It'd end soon enough after all!

Grinning like the idiot he was, Prussia proudly stepped back from the dining room table with his hands on his hips. It was perfect! The tablecloth was a deep satiny red; France insisted that the color red made people feel passionate. An ornate candle stand, the candles it held ablaze, sat in the middle of the table next to a vase full of roses. It was great!

This was yet another one of his schemes. Well, this was one of his least planned strategies. Italy had offered to cook dinner so Prussia had decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He set up the dining room in a romantic setting for the two, just as France advised when he called him up. And now it was perfect! Time to get out of there.

Flipping the light out as he exited the dining room, the albino charged down the hall en route to his brother's study. Germany knew better than to try to stop Prussia's social outings like Romano had to Spain, but had sternly 'suggested' that from now on, Prussia inform him of his plans before leaving. Spain, France, and him were getting together at Spain's house to plan some then head out with Romano (he refused to allow Spain go out with them alone) for some clubbing. As he passed a mirror hanging in the hall, Prussia couldn't help but stop and check himself out because, damn, he was looking fuckable.

He was wearing comfortable yet form fitting jeans that ran into his favorite pair of combat boots. His black button-up had a high collar and he left the last few and several of the first buttons undone to show off his sexy body. His Iron Cross contrasted with his pale skin, almost making the necklace the centerpiece of his simple yet alluring outfit. Winking to his reflection, Prussia bound into Germany's office.

"Yo West!" He shouted, striking a pose as Fritz popped out of his hair to peep a greeting. "Don't I look fucking awesome? Kesese. Anyways," Prussia danced over to Germany's desk and sat himself on top of all the paper work that covered it, crossing his legs with a smirk. "I'm going clubbing with Antonio and Francis! Oh and the tomato brat too, figured you'd get mad at me if I didn't come tell you."

For a few short seconds Ludwig simply glared at the Prussian conveniently seated atop the piles of paperwork he was supposed to be doing. From behind the pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose iced over marbles narrowed in annoyance. For the past week a surprising amount of time had been spent with his Italian ally. Yes, he enjoyed himself. The movie had elicited a few gruff chuckles from the stony general, the food of the various restaurants obtained polite compliments, and the moments of simple interaction birthed awkward albeit adorable smiles. But where did this leave him, a nation? With a mountain of paperwork, that's where it left him. Though Italy had offered to make him dinner that night, this blond had spent the entirety of his day holed up in his office getting caught up on everything. It was through this toil that he gave in and made himself comfortable in the way of bodily affairs.

Though most wouldn't know it, Ludwig was hard pressed to see the world surrounding him in clarity. Through the years of reading long into the night, shooting throughout the lighted hours and into those of the dark, and the numerous explosions that were set off in his sight, his vision had deteriorated. While he was in fact the strict and often times annoyed man we all know and love, his narrow eyed look could be partially attributed to his bad eyesight. There was a near constant need to squint, if only somewhat gaining differentiating in shapes in doing so.

Why doesn't he wear contacts, you ask? A nearly infinite number of trigger pulls coupled with tab-less archery draw backs – he made it a point to have proper marksmanship in most every weapon known to man - had rendered nerve endings in his hands less than lively. In both hands. How much trouble would he be in if his dominant hand was injured in the battlefield? Quickly he learned to shoot with either. This fact made sticking such a tiny, flimsy thing in his eye difficult.

There were other reasons for his not wearing contacts. The man was a maniac when it came to cleanliness, let's be truthful here. Cleaning chemicals were used on a daily basis. His eyes were already bad. He didn't need cleaning supplies in his contacts leaving him blind.

Glasses? They got in the way when shooting, fell down ones nose, became askew. They didn't appeal to him in the way of a daily accessory.

The resultant of these compiled facts came up with a Germany that utilized the wonderful invention of spectacles only when he was in the safety of his home, doing paperwork or reading.

Next we come to the state of his hair. To all the image of Ludwig was of a clean cut man, neatly shaven with cornstalk blond strands in an unfailing slicked back look. This, again, was something given only when out and about. If he should know for a fact that he will not venture from his home, as he did today, there was no need to apply the gel. So on this fine day, we are greeted with the sight of a bespectacled male, straight laced and evenly cut locks free from their regular restraints.

And finally, his attire. Days of military service were in the past, there was no real need or even reason to wear his uniform. When attending world meetings he pulled it out, but no longer was it his day wear. On the days he was allowed to simply roam about the house he was given to more comfortable clothing, though hardly anything like sweats. No, he kept himself still well clothed. His well formed torso was clothed in a pale forest green top, low in straight shoulder to shoulder collar and with a small v at its center over his collar bone, leaving the Iron Cross pendant cool against his skin in plain sight. Only a tad on the loose side were the dark pants he wore, ending at socked feet.

"Romano is going?" For the entire week while he had been spending time with Italy Gilbert, in contrast, took it upon himself to associate himself with Francis and Antonio – consequently Romano as well these days – more so than usual. Initially Germany was reluctant to let his brother return to them after the strip poker incident. But recently the Italian brother was pushing himself into their group. If he were attending this outing, he would act as a chaperone. Nothing that resembled that night would occur with his presence.

Sighing, Ludwig leaned back in his chair, lazily prodding the albino's leg with the butt of his pen. "Gut. Er wird dich beobachten. Keep you three in check." One elbow remained rested on the desk, lightly brushing the side of Gilbert's hip. Corresponding fist rested beneath the strong German chin. Ludwig rose a brow. "And hopefully get you home at a proper hour?"

Always so stuffy and uptight… Biting the inside of his cheek, Ludwig slid his gaze to the sight as a blush simultaneously painted his cheeks. "Have fun, ja?" As he forced his eyes to shift back onto the form still concealing his work, something that could actually be called a hopeful smile appeared. Dorky, awkward, and accompanied with his small flush, but one all the same. It was offered up with self questioning, as if he second guessed his letting it out.

"West…" Prussia's voice trailed off as he looked down at his brother, a light pink touching his cheeks. A giant, goofy smile was stuck on his face as he stared. "Oh West, you're so cute!" He exclaimed, jumping off the desk to throw himself into the blond's lap. Fritz flew out of Prussia's hair as he wrapped his arms around the larger man's neck and nuzzled his face in Germany's loose hair.

"No need to worry about me, mein süßer bruderchen." Prussia let go of Germany's neck to ruffle his hair. "Of course I'll have fun! And don't get too worried if I don't come home. We'll probably get wasted! I'll just bunk at Antonio's… Eh maybe Antonio might get lucky tonight… Scratch that, I'll crash at Francis's, no biggy. I highly doubt you want me driving home drunk! See, I can be responsible! Kesesese."

Extremely proud of himself, Prussia ruffled Germany's hair again as he jumped off his lap to the ground. "Let's go Fritz! We gottta pimp you out! You know the ladies love you!" Cackling, Prussia made his way to the door. Before exiting, he looked over his shoulder; a beaming smile that made his red eyes squint it was so big. "I have my cell if you need me. And thanks for not being a total stick in the mud like Lovi. Maybe you can come along next time, ja?" With a wave, the albino left the German to himself once more.

Gilbert really ought to feel special. Only for him had Ludwig plastered that fake smile to his face. It was all he could do to keep from growling at the mere mentioning of a certain perverted Frenchman – weren't they all the way? – with whom his brother planned to spend the night after getting very inebriated. In his departing for said night Ludwig released the tightly strung up expression and leaned back in his chair. Air was let in through the mouth and released through the nose, a hand coming up to run through his hair.

It has already been stated, the nature in which Germany had spent the past week. With Italy. On the flipside, this left his brother to be interacting with France on a daily basis, Spain now apparently too busy with Southern Italy to spend time with his other friends. Something in him boiled at this concept.

Putting his brother into compromising situations, then taking advantage of him. Gilbert could take care of himself, yes, but at times Ludwig wondered if he was too trusting of his friends. Hadn't France manhandled him – literally – when Gilbert was in a particularly vulnerable state? Ludwig was of the unaffectionate sort. On occasion he didn't mind a hug here or a kiss on the cheek there, especially in the cases of Italy and Prussia, and once in a blue moon he may instigate one himself. In his view, things of said nature were meant to be done behind closed doors. Thus, as per his nature, something about France just irked him. Always had. And yet…

Something about the way Ludwig felt when Prussia mentioned spending time with the man was different than the sensations normally flared up in correlation with the blond. Two separate and contradicting emotions came up at once, leaving Germany completely unaware of what to do with himself. How was one to cope? One that wasn't all too good with the normal day to day motions of feelings to begin with.

There was an anger, something far beyond annoyance. It made him want to yell and go crazy, break his personal code of always being calm and collected, even in rage. But there was also an insecurity, making him want to run after the Prussian and force the man to stay… With him. Like a young child would a parent getting back into the dating scene. Why can't they be the ones to get all the love? Aren't they good enough? Why did there have to be someone else? Them, just them, that's all their parent needed! Why, why was Ludwig being so childish? Never in his life had he been so immature, even as a child! Always taking care of himself, being as independent as possible. But now… It was as if he was craving his brother's attention… Wishing he wouldn't go and see Francis…

"Doitsu~"

The sound of the silent, blackened word that was his thoughts and emotions shattering was almost audible to Ludwig, Italy's voice a physical brick being tossed into the fragile glass-like structure and breaking it into pieces. For a time Ludwig felt completely naked and vulnerable, so deep into himself as he had been. Wide blue eyes stared in shock at the brunet in the doorway.

"N-Neh?" Feliciano stuttered, instantly losing his hype. Was it possible for Germany to look like this? Like a lost, lonely child? The urge was so great, he simply couldn't resist. In an instant he was at the generals side, hugging the head of messed blond hair to his chest. "Germany? What's wrong?"

Everything was soon blinked away. A long, drawn out sigh left the German's lips. "Nothing, nothing. Just thinking, was all, and you startled me… C'mon, you're finished with dinner, ja? Let's go eat.

---

Yawning, Prussia let himself into Spain's house. He could hear bickering coming from the living room, well mainly Romano's loud voice reprimanding France for something he did. A grin spread across the albino's face as he pranced into the room. "Hey there bitches, missed me? What the hell is going on?" France was laughing hysterically with Romano's hands wrapped around his neck in a death hold. Antonio was trying to hold back the feisty Italian, his arms around Romano's waist as he laughed pitifully.

Romano faltered in his attack to look over at Prussia, giving Spain the chance to pull him away from France. They toppled onto the couch as France fell against the wall, still laughing. "Romie doesn't like getting sex advice apparently! I just thought he might like some pointers since he's joining us tonight!"

Bright red and pouting in Spain's lap, Romano muttered darkly under his breath, refusing to look in France's direction. Said Frenchman's grin grew wider as he said cheerily, "of course, the only person Romie wants to fuck is Antonio~"

Romano's eyes instantly shot open as he leaped off of the couch and lunged at France. Unfortunately, his foot caught the carpet, sending him face first into the ground. He didn't bother getting up, too embarrassed to show his teary, flushed face. Instead, he opted to bury his face into the carpet, muttering curses.

Snickering, Prussia plopped down next to Spain and said in a low voice, "Can you get Lovi distracted for enough time for the three of us to talk?"

Antonio was beside himself, green eyes alight with worry as they stared down at the upset Italian. But Gilbert had just sat down and asked him a question! And this involved making his little Romano even angrier… "Pero mi Romanito," he whimpered out pathetically. So conflicted was he, liking neither an ignored and pissed Gilbert nor a tricked and pissed Romano. How did he always manage to get caught him in things such as this?

But he couldn't leave either waiting for long. "Pobrecito… Estas bien?" This was murmured out softly with a bright, hopeful smile as Spain pulled a blushing brunet up into a sitting position. He offered a comforting laugh. "Es bien, sí," he said, ending with an upward inflection in questioning, wiping the tears from those beautiful green orbs.

Antonio pulled both himself and a calmed Italian to stand. "Let's all go for a walk to calm our nerves, sí? It's no fun going out if you're enojadjo, sí?" Yes, always trying to be the peacemaker. No matter how hard it was… How increasingly hard.

Permission granted by all parties – though Romano required some convincing, and even then was still apprehensive – the group of four made their exit to the land surrounding Spain's home. The man owned a fair bit of fertile land, on which he had rows upon rows of vegetables and other plants, tomatoes the predominant crop and taking up a fair majority of it all. Through this they walked for a short time, Spain suddenly quiet – yes, it's possible, sometimes – until he perked up and pointed excitedly into the distance through the vine coated lattice stalks. "Lovi, do you see that? Isn't that the biggest tomate you've ever seen!?"

Instantly, Romano's head turned in the direction Spain pointed. He just as quickly realized how excited and stupid he must look and looked to the ground blushing. Oh but he really wanted to go check out this tomato... "U-uh... Just one second!" He yelled, running away from the trio to find the giant tomato.

The second the Italian disappeared from view, France and Prussia were ushered off the main path. Once nestled in a small grove of trees, attention was turned to Prussia. Realizing time was limited with them hiding from Romano, the albino sighed. "I don't know what's going on guys! I'm so fucking confused! Why am I still getting annoyed like a little bitch? And it gets worse whenever they get real close... Y'know, hugs, kiss on the cheek..." He was thoroughly flushed, tears in the corners of his eyes.

Positively giddy, France pulled the frustrated albino into a hug. "Awww petit Gilbert! Tu es trés adorable!"

"Shut up fucking pervert, get off'a me!" Prussia yelled, pushing France away to look at Spain. He trusted this idiot a whole lot more than the stupid blond.

The center of the ring was Gilbert. No doubt on any other occasion he would be overjoyed, standing there leaning back against a tree with all attention on him. Yet he didn't seem particularly jovial at this moment in time, eliciting a sympathetic smile and awkward laugh from his Spanish friend at the antics of the Frenchman. "Franny," he said breathily, as if in light scolding.

Maybe this was starting to get to be a real problem. Turning from his grin to a faint frown, he watched an aggravated Prussian. While he had come to them for help getting Germany and Italy into a more romantic type of relationship, both Spain himself and France had been aware of how it would turn out. But maybe it was getting to be a bit much… He didn't want to see his friend looking so conflicted and upset. Couldn't they help him along, even just a little bit? Whimpering pitifully, the Spaniard exchanged a look with the one other that was fully aware of the situation in its complexity.

"Mi amigo, perdoname," Antonio bridged the distance gap between them, reaching out one hand to place it on the other males shoulder while he bent down to his height – egotistical as he was, Gilbert could never change the fact of his being the shortest out of the Bad Touch Trio – to look up into watery red eyes. "Maybe," he started, tentatively, unsure of how to explain what he wanted to get across, "you should rethink this whole plan about Germany and Ita-chan. I mean, he is your brother, but maybe you and Germany-"

"Fucking bastard Antonio!" Came a loud yell from the path the three had deserted. "I hate you, I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate you! There was no fucking giant tomato! You liar! You just wanted to ditch me! Fucking bastardo idiota di uno spagnolo. Mi auguro che bastardo Francia stupri voi! Ti odio! Ti odio! Ti odio!" Romano's voice was strained as he screeched his hatred for Spain, as if he was desperately trying not to start bawling.

Talk about being in a tight spot. Two of the people he cared most about were crying and upset, one for a reason he could explain away right then and there, and the other for leaving him to comfort the first friend. Nervous, indecisive smile in place, Antonio shifted his gaze between Gilbert and the direction in which Romano's voice was being projected from. What to do, what to do...

"Romanito," he finally cried, dashing off to just short of send the Italian to the ground with the force behind his hug. "Perdoname, perdoname," he apologized into chocolate locks. "I really did see a big tomate, I did!"

"Oh sure you did," Romano muttered, halfheartedly trying to push Spain away. His face was -forgive me for the simile- like a tomato it was so red. He wiggled in Spain's hold and rubbed his teary eyes. "You all just wanted to run off and make some stupid orgy or something."

In favor of cupping his cheeks Antonio released Lovino. "Gil just wanted to talk. Don't be mad, por favor?"

Averting his gaze from the Spaniard, Romano muttered incoherent and reluctant reassurances. Slowly, he looked up, still not looking Spain in the eyes and grumbled something along the lines of how he wasn't completely mad, but wasn't going to completely let him off the hook.

With their return to France and Gilbert Antonio felt desperate for words, blindly reaching into his thoughts until he came up with something that would hopefully appease all parties. "Oye, Carneval is starting the day after tomorrow, sí? How about we all go as a group? Germany and Ita-chan, too!"

Having felt a bit rejected as Spain stopped mid sentence to run to his little fuck-buddy, Prussia instantly lit up when he suggested the carnival. So that was what he was gonna say! Grinning broadly, Prussia nodded enthusiastically. "Oh that's awesome Antonio! Fucking awesome!" What better place to hook two idiots up than a carnival? Wonderful plan!

"Aaah mon Antonio! C'est magnifique!" France exclaimed, clapping his hands together, excited for reasons different than Prussia's. After all, what better place to make someone jealous of a 'couple' than a carnival?

End of Chapter Three

Haya covering translations this chapter :D Rushing too, so forgive Haya if anything is wrong... Please please correct Haya if so! Especially on the Italian xD Translators ftw?

Gut. Er wird dich beobachten - Good. He will watch you.

mein süßer bruderchen - My cute little brother

Pero mi Romanito - But my Romanito

Pobrecito… Estas bien - Poor boy... Are you okay?

enojadjo - mad

Tu es trés adorable - You are very adorable (is there an accent on adorable? :/)

Mi amigo, perdoname - My friend, sorry

Fucking bastardo idiota di uno spagnolo. Mi auguro che bastardo Francia stupri voi! Ti odio! Ti odio! Ti odio! - Fucking stupid bastard of a Spaniard. I hope that bastard France rapes you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.