A/N: Real life responsibilities suck all the time and motivation right out of a person, y'know? I can only apologize, over and over and over, because I am sorry at how late this is, even if I'm so mentally and emotionally drained right now that I can no longer muster up the energy to get mad at myself. Please feel free to douse your torches, because I can't have my laptop burn up. I already had to replace it a few months ago and burnt electronics are terrible to deal with.
NOTE #1: I'm not very satisfied with how this chapter turned out, so I'll be editing it when I come back from my road trip. Hopefully some creativity hits me over the head by then.
DISCLAIMER: As usual, I don't own Himaruya's lovely Hetalia. Please do not sue, I have nothing worth repossessing and can only borrow Feli's white flag of surrender to wave at you!
The table was set quite elegantly, despite the lack of overall opportunity for preparation, and there was little chance of anyone going hungry tonight, even with Austria's more delicate food tastes. All across the warm wooden surface was spread a rich array of homecooked food, filling the air with a delicious spicy aroma. The other nations had begun taking advantage of the heavy basket of warm toasted bread and fresh-pressed olive oil, encouraged by Feliciano on the reasoning that "Romano wouldn't want the food to go to waste and get cold, ve! We can eat the appetisers while they search!". France had happily opened up the half-drunk bottle of wine in the refrigerator, and sipped his way through a glass between bites of bread and olive oil.
Amato, however, was too worried to eat. Mama hasn't come back yet...
Unbidden, fear began creeping up on him, as he wondered what horrible thing must have happened his favorite person in the whole world to cause him to be late for dinner. What if he got attacked by a big scary ghost, or the tomato plants all wilted? What if there's monsters in the linen closet that tried to eat him?
Swallowing nervously, he turned big green eyes toward the open hallway, which, without the comforting presence of his Mama, suddenly seemed to no longer be such a warm, friendly part of the house, connecting everything together like a palm to the fingers of one's hands, but instead seemed to grow longer and narrower and darker. The dining table, with its bounty of tasty food and new people, seemed to have a magnetic pull on him as if to say stay here, where it's not scary!
But, he reminded himself, if I got lost, Mama would go find me. I can't stay if Mama's lost.
Mind made up, the little mochi scooted carefully off his makeshift high-chair, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried not to make too much noise. With a tiny thud, the small form landed on the cool tiles and began shuffling away. From his seat next to him on an equally-high stack of books, Little Lovi stared in surprise at his fellow mochi's actions before whispering "What are you doing? Get back up here right now before someone sees you!"
Amato made a shake of no before angling his whole soft body towards the hallway in a gesture that practically screamed I'm going that way, come on! Let's go!
Unamused, Little Lovi shuffled toward the edge of his makeshift perch, scowling. "Come on, don't do this. We'll get in trouble. I don't want my tomatoes taken away, and they'll yell at us."
The other mochi simply shuffled forward, turning around for a second to look toward the hallway in indication to follow. "I want to make sure Mama's okay! It's not nice to eat without him, and he's been gone for a while..."
Large eyes wavered, glittering at the edges with tears, and his resolve caved. Now that's just not fair.
Looking around carefully, he slipped off his perch, making sure that Feliciano was busy chattering away with Austria and Hungary. France, now past his first glass, was happily refilling the second, blue eyes gleaming merrily.
Together, the two began the slow trek into the hallway. Did it always look this scary?, Amato wondered, peering up nervously at the looming walls and a corridor that suddenly seemed much, much longer than before.
No, he reminded himself, don't think about it. It's not really scary. Mama needs me, I have to help! And I can't do it sitting here like a scaredy-cat.
Offering a brave smile to his friend, Amato moved forward. Don't worry, Mama, I'll find you.
The moaning and groaning coming from his hall was becoming a real nuisance, Romano mused as he strategically placed himself behind the thick, swirling cast iron legs of his decorative hallway table. For the dozenth time since he'd run earlier, he cursed dropping the knife and screaming at what, at the time, seemed to be a big pink mummy. The knowledge that, in hindsight, said "pink" mummy was simply Prussia wrapped in what could only be his extra henchman cloth was just embarrassing.
A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of his face and he wiped it forcefully away, wishing to just drag Prussia back so they could end this.
It wasn't as if he wanted to make body contact with the idiot, but Romano knew full well that Prussia held too much pride to simply hold still while they unraveled him. An ambush then, seemed the easiest option to take, and Germany had been in more than enough tussles with the other nation to understand how to get his silver-haired brother to quite flailing around like a cat dumped in ice water.
Germany, being forced to crouch back behind Romano due to the lack of other furnishings in the hallway for cover, contemplated the logistics of using the duct tape he carried in his pockets for Feliciano's more clumsy visits to tie up his brother and march him back to the table so they could finally sit down and enjoy a meal. After all, even if he didn't get along very well with his friend's grumpy older brother, the food was still there and it would be such a shame to waste...not to mention he still needed to make Prussia help patch up the mess made out of the kitchen wall.
As the telltale groaning came closer and closer, so did increasingly louder swearing. Romano braced himself to jump out as Prussia came shuffling around the corner, a muted moaning of "Sooooo noooooot awesoooommmeeee..." trailing off into nothingness as his injured foot dragged along the floor, smearing blood from the cut.
"Oi, potato bastard number two, stop wailing like a ghost for a moment so we can get that cloth off and fix your stupid foot. I want to check on Amato and go eat dinner already." Not to mention I want to make sure nothing else gets wrecked while I was gone, Feli might've set fire to the table with candles or something.
Prussia nodded from behind the tangled mess of pink fabric, and Romano darted forward, yanking at the strips to pull them free. Germany, still trying valiantly to shake off the surprise of his brother being wrapped up like some bizarre Christmas present, hurried forward to help free his arms and legs as well.
"Finally!", came the triumphant cry when, after several long and tedious minutes, the last of the cloth fell away, landing in a pile all around Prussia like party streamers. "I thought I'd never get out of that stupid fabric."
"Yes, well," - a deft sweep of the arms, and Germany was holding the fabric in his arms - "you vould not have been in zhe fabric in zhe first place if you'd not hidden in the closet after the stunt you pulled earlier." The sharp edge in the blonde's tone sent a clear message of you will be fixing all the things you broke earlier, but the rumbling of his stomach (and subsequent flush of embarrassment) cut the severity of it down quite a bit. Seizing his chance, Prussia spoke up.
"Hey, didn't you say something about dinner earlier? I'm starving!"
"Hey, potato bastard number two, we need to fix your foot first, you've been tracking blood all over my hallway-"
"No, Gilbert, hold on a moment-"
A duet of panicked screaming ripped through the air, Feliciano's high, warbling tones overlapping Amato's chirps of fear as their missing dinner guest, now freed of his bonds, half-ran, half-limped down the hallway and vanished from sight again.
"AMATO! FELI!"
Germany blanched, his expression as horrified as Romano's, and promptly hurtled himself down the hall after the screaming Southern Italian.