Germany stared at the phone receiver in his hand. He had received a number of strange calls over the years, mostly ones that had arrived from Italy himself and they had generally pertained to his needing rescuing but never had he ever received the request he had just heard. Perhaps he had just misheard it as he gingerly lifted it back to his ears only to rip it away when the voice on the other end started shouting. "Hey? Did you hear me, bastard?!"
"Yes, I heard you." Germany grumbled rubbing at his ear and wincing.
"Well? What's your answer?" The voice demanded and Germany had to pause to think about it which only made the caller angrier. "Listen stronzo, it's a simple answer. Yes or no to dinner at our house?"
The situation was so highly unusual that to the blonde's reasoning, there had to be something wrong. "Romano," Germany whispered into the phone, "are you being coerced in some way? Is England there? If he is, then comment on the weather."
"The weather?!" The Italian screeched and Germany had to hold his phone at arm's length while Romano vented. "I'll tell you about the weather! I hope you walk outside and get caught in hail the size of footballs that knocks your meatball sized brain out! Now, just answer the damn question!"
Germany stiffened. He had mentioned the weather… But all the same, this was Romano and if England was holding him hostage his first call would be to Spain and not him and there would likely be more tears involved. Or so he reasoned and hoped. "Yes, I will attend dinner tomorrow night…?" He answered tentatively, wondering if that was the right answer.
"Good. And don't bother bringing anything; I refuse to eat anything of yours." The call abruptly ended and Germany hung up his phone feeling more confused about Italians than he ever had been before. It had been precisely one day and 16 hours since he had last seen Italy, not that he could name a specific reason for keeping track of such information. After Italy had left the other night, Germany had put in a call to a spy he had stationed in France to go and gather any information on what had occurred. The initial reports were just starting to trickle in and it seemed Italy wasn't lying when he had confirmed his visit to the older nation, however, no one had seen France yet as he seemed to be hiding inside of his home.
His icy blue eyes scanned the notes he had taken when the handler had called. France's car was parked outside his home but all of his windows were covered and there had yet to be any movement behind them or anyone entering or leaving his home. It was beginning to cause Germany some concern; if Italy's chuckling about his visit was anything to go by, France hadn't gotten off easy. He told the man to relay the message to stay back and just keep an eye on things, but now with Romano acting off, he thought it best to see what was happening to the south.
Picking up his phone again he dialed Italy's number and waited several rings for the "Ciao" that was growled through the line at him. "Italy, "Germany asked sternly, twirling his pen in his hand, "I'm only asking because I need to know. Did you kill France?"
There was dead silence before Italy burst into uncontrollable laughter that instantly made the blonde confused. This was hardly a laughing matter and Italy appeared to be treating this as a joke. "Italy!" he snarled through the phone and briefly recalling the times just that would cause the smaller nation to cry and beg forgiveness, "Why are you laughing?"
The laughter stilled, though the tone of his voice was still amused. "I suppose I just found it funny that you had to ask."
Germany waited for the other to continue but no further information was given on the subject. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" Italy asked once the silence had stretched on and become uncomfortable.
"How is Romano doing?" the blonde tried again, wondering how much Italy knew about his brother's request.
"Fratello?" the voice asked suspiciously, "Why do you ask?"
Germany began to scramble as he tried to come up with an answer, mentally cursing himself for not thinking of one before he called. "I… uh… just wanted to know, because… er…" he stuttered, looking for an answer and feeling the anger that seemed to seep through the line.
"Romano is spending time with Spain." Italy replied coolly, a hint of a deadly edge to his tone, "If he is who you are looking for then you should try calling there."
"No, I do not wish to speak to him…" Germany groaned, silently adding the 'again' to the end of his sentence.
"Then, why were you asking?" Italy demanded and Germany paled from his lack of good responses. The truth seemed pretty farfetched and he wasn't sure if it would sound convincing.
"He asked me a strange question…" Germany started then paused again. "Has he been acting… like himself…?"
"What did he ask you? Tell me what he said." The voice was losing patience quickly, and Germany panicked.
"He asked me to join the two of you for dinner." He waited for a reaction, but it was strangely quiet on the other side. "Hallo?"
"You'll have to excuse me Germany, but I have to go speak with my older brother now." Their connection was swiftly ended and Germany hung up his phone wondering what happened to all the nice formalities that warned a caller they were about to be hung up on. He stretched from behind his desk and decided a break was in order. Perhaps if Austria was in the kitchen he could ask to borrow one of his books to see if he should still be attending dinner tomorrow night.
AN: Thanks for the lovely reviews (they make my day! :D ) and sorry about how I keep ending chapters... I'm terrible, I know. Hopefully next week's will be better! (I say that like I haven't already written it... and the three following it...)