AN: What better way to lighten the mood than to introduce (most of) the BTT?

Warning: Prussian drunkenness and angry curses from…well, almost everyone. Sorry about some OOCness, but emotions are running high with these characters.

Chapter 1—One Week

"What? No, I can do it myself! Put that back and let the awesome me get it!"

France chuckled and took a sip of his wine. He was feeling a little buzzed already and, if his words were anything to go off of, so was Prussia. The albino had jumped out of his seat and was reaching across the bar trying to reach another bottle of his favorite beer, ignoring the bartender trying to stop him.

With a deep and satisfied sigh Prussia sat back in his seat and took a long drink of his beer. "Ah, perfect. I love this stuff."

"Really? I couldn't tell," chuckled the Frenchman as he sipped a bit more wine. He turned more on his stool so he faced Prussia head-on. "How many have you had now?"

"Uh…" Prussia looked up at the ceiling, his face screwing up in concentration. He finally shrugged and laughed. "Enough to make me feel more awesome than usual! Can you tell now?" France nodded with a smirk. A wave brought the bartender over and the handsome man refilled the nation's glass with red wine. France's eyes drifted over the man's body before he looked back at Prussia. "….stock more beer. West saves too much money! If I had all that income you can bet…" The self-proclaimed awesome one was still talking without realizing that France had tuned him out. The blond nodded along absentmindedly whenever Prussia looked at him. A drunken Prussia was easy to appease and France was rather skilled in that field.

The rest of the night passed in a pleasant haze of alcohol and entertaining company. Around two AM the pair stumbled out of the bar and shouted goodbyes and promises to meet again for drinks before heading their separate ways.

"Damn, I feel great," said Prussia with a grin as he walked (stumbling every once in a while) home. His cab had dropped him off a few blocks away and the ex-nation was surprisingly not angry. He might even have been skipping along if he wasn't so sure his face would marry the cement if he did.

The jingle of keys made Prussia blink and look down. Huh. When had he reached West's house? When had he taken his keys out? The man shrugged and walked through the unlocked door. Maybe he had a bit too much to drink earlier. Oh well. Nobody died so West couldn't give him shit about it in the morning.

Prussia cackled happily at the thought of West's exasperated face as he grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He flipped to one of those silly Japanese game shows and dropped onto the end of the couch. A sudden pain in his rear made the man stop and think. "Huh. When did West's couch get so bumpy?" The couch started moving. "Mein Gott, West! What did you do to the couch? Your couch is a person!"

"I'm not a couch, you stupid potato bastard! Get the fuck off my legs!"

Prussia stared at the screeching mass of blankets and brown hair blankly. He suddenly grinned and patted the mass on the head. "Oh, heya Romano. When did you become a couch?"

Romano glared death from exhausted eyes. "Get. Off. My. Legs."

"What? I'm not on your legs. You're a couch."

The Italian man stared at the laughing Prussian for a moment. He leaned over and grabbed a large book sitting on the coffee table. Romano raised the book and brought it down on top of Prussia's head.

Germany sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. The two cups of coffee he had with breakfast were starting to wear off. If only he hadn't been awakened by two idiots running through his house and breaking everything in sight…at three in the morning… One of those idiots was currently standing in front of his desk. The German man sighed again and took off his glasses. "What is it now, Prussia?" he asked.

Prussia crossed his arms and glared down at his brother. His fingers twitched in irritation as he half-shouted, "It's Romano, obviously! Kick him out!"

"No." Germany put his glasses back in place and reached for the government papers on the corner of his desk. He had too much unfinished work to deal with his brother's problems.

Prussia's glared hardened and he snatched the papers away. "Kick him out now! I'm sick of that kid taking up the damn couch! This isn't his house!" Germany returned the glare and folded up his glasses before placing them in his desk drawer.

"It's not your house either, bruder. Give me the papers now," Germany said, straining to stay calm, "We already discussed South Italy."

"'Discussed'? We didn't 'discuss' anything! You just rolled over and let that brat do whatever the hell he wanted! Man up already, West!"

The blond man growled in frustration and stood. He glared down at his brother who returned the look. With quiet rage the sleep deprived German said, "I don't care if Romano beat your drunken ass. I'm too exhausted from dealing with you two already. Deal with it. Now give me the papers, Preußen."

Prussia continued glaring at his brother. A moment of tense silence passed as his glare hardened. The albino man finally shouted and threw the papers at him opponent. "Fine! Be that brat's bitch!" shouted Prussia as he turned and stalked out of the room, "He's not Italy, you idiot!"

Germany narrowed his eyes and watched his brother leave the office. A bit later he heard the front door slam. The German man sighed and visibly deflated. He looked down at the papers scattered across the floor.

Why had everything gone wrong? Why had everyone left?

Down in the living room, Romano stared at the television set. The colorful cartoons dancing about the screen didn't absorb his attention. The shouting from upstairs was too distracting. He vaguely wondered if the shouting was about him. It probably was, since Romano had almost given that bastard Prussia a concussion. Oh, and he broke more of Germany's plates. They were probably disagreeing about how to get rid of the Italian. Romano pouted and crossed his arms...

...he almost expected someone to shout happily and hug him. Almost.

Instead Prussia rushed down the stairs and wrestled with the front door. Romano watched him with a bored expression. When the door finally opened Prussia's eyes locked onto the blue suitcase propped up against the wall beside him. He turned and glared at the man sitting on the couch. "I hope that damn couch eats you," he hissed out. He kicked the suitcase over and ran out, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Romano's eyes slowly fell from the door to the blue suitcase propped up beside it. He didn't bother to pick it up. He would get to it eventually. "Stupid Feli doesn't need it right now," the Italian muttered softly as he pulled his knees up to his chest.

The happy cartoon program played on, oblivious to his silent tears.

AN: Anyone else think it would be hot to see Germany wearing reading glasses? And I'm not making Prussia a bad guy, he's just kind of fed up with Romano, like most people would be.