Broken Triangle; Or, Who Wants Pussy, Anyway? (Prussia, France)
Title: Broken Triangle; Or, Who Wants Pussy, Anyway?
Warnings: Angsty Prussia
Summary: After the Napoleonic Wars, Spain starts getting distant
Characters: Prussia, France, Spain (in absentia)
Year: 1840
Broken Triangle; Or, Who Wants Pussy, Anyway?
Forgive the anachronistic slang. It just wouldn't be Prussia otherwise.
“I can't believe he left us for a chick.” Prussia was moody, France was resigned.
“They will be good for each other. You know, they've always been so close...”
“Bullshit!” Prussia shouted, pounding his fist on the table, and making his shot glass tower tremble precariously. France winced. He knew better than to take out the nice glasses when Prussia came over, but it had been so sudden, and he hadn't been able to find the plain ones... “Bullshit. We're good for each other.” France coughed. “We are!” And they were. It had always been the rest of the world that suffered. “Besides,” he added, getting up to pace. “She only wants him for his body.”
France raised his eyebrows. “She does! You know she'd do anything to get Olivenza back. Stupid slut.” France let that one slide. After all, she had been around, and if the rumors about her colonies were true... “Besides, chicks are boring.”
France raised his eyebrows. “And about the young lady with the--”
“Shut up!” he shouting, the hand coming now dangerously close to France's shot glasses. He winced. “Austria can have her, for all I care. Stupid slut,” he added, unconvincingly. France sighed, in resignation, but didn't argue. It was always better to humor a drunk Prussia. He'd learned that in Silesia.
“But anyway. What does she have, that we don't?” France opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Silesia. “You know, aside from a pussy. And those holdings in the Americas. And there was that union thing (but that was years ago!) Come on, who wants pussy anyway?”
“Well--”
“No one!” Prussia shouted with a note of hysteria, not even noticing he'd been interrupted. He sat down again, exhausted by his speech. “No one,” he muttered again, rebelliously.
It hadn't been sudden, Antonio's withdrawal from their happy arrangement. It had been slow, steady. Ever since 1808-- France winced at the memory-- he had been more distant, less interested in their company. The camaraderie they'd shared after the War of Succession had gradually disappeared, until more and more often it was only Prussia and himself sitting around, drinking, and thinking of old times. It was perhaps inevitable that he had found companionship elsewhere.
Prussia and he had, of course, been in bed together alone. But it quickly turned into squabbles, with each unwilling to give ground to the other and bickering again and again about Napoleon. Prussia hadn't taken it as hard as his dear Antonio, partly because Prussia lived for war, and partly because Waterloo had been deeply satisfying for him. He still insisted that Jena-Auerstedt was a fluke, and France let him. Every once in a while it was enough to get him laid.
Without Antonio, they had moved farther from lovers and closer to drinking buddies. But France, who had known Spain since before Prussia existed, was willing to be happy for his friend, if regretfully. The two of them-- Antonio and his fellow Iberian-- had always had an intense relationship. It was no surprise that after working together during the Peninsular Wars, their relationship had begun to intensify again. He felt that it wouldn't be long before Isabel demanded official exclusivity, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Soon Prussia was snoring-- loudly-- on his table. France sighed, and carried him to bed for the third night running. The man may not have known Spain for as long, but France was willing to bet that he'd never had anyone but the two of them. He couldn't help touching Prussia's shoulder, briefly, before he left the room to sleep on the couch.
NOTES
*Olivenza was a province of Portugal (who's the chick in question, in case you hadn't noticed xD) that went to Spain in 1801-- it's a sore point with them to this day.
*Silesia was taken by Prussia from Austria in one of the most badass wars of the War of Succession
*In the sixteenth-seventeenth centuries, Spain and Portugal's monarchs got married and ruled their two countries together (Iberian Union)
*In 1807, Spain let France go through his territory to invade Portugal. But France, being all hyped up on adrenaline from the Napoleonic wars, decided to invade Spain TOO. Spain and Portugal fought back together in the Peninsular Wars.
*At Jena-Auerstedt, Napoleon whipped Prussia's ass. Like hard, hardcore.
Warnings: Angsty Prussia
Summary: After the Napoleonic Wars, Spain starts getting distant
Characters: Prussia, France, Spain (in absentia)
Year: 1840
Broken Triangle; Or, Who Wants Pussy, Anyway?
Forgive the anachronistic slang. It just wouldn't be Prussia otherwise.
“I can't believe he left us for a chick.” Prussia was moody, France was resigned.
“They will be good for each other. You know, they've always been so close...”
“Bullshit!” Prussia shouted, pounding his fist on the table, and making his shot glass tower tremble precariously. France winced. He knew better than to take out the nice glasses when Prussia came over, but it had been so sudden, and he hadn't been able to find the plain ones... “Bullshit. We're good for each other.” France coughed. “We are!” And they were. It had always been the rest of the world that suffered. “Besides,” he added, getting up to pace. “She only wants him for his body.”
France raised his eyebrows. “She does! You know she'd do anything to get Olivenza back. Stupid slut.” France let that one slide. After all, she had been around, and if the rumors about her colonies were true... “Besides, chicks are boring.”
France raised his eyebrows. “And about the young lady with the--”
“Shut up!” he shouting, the hand coming now dangerously close to France's shot glasses. He winced. “Austria can have her, for all I care. Stupid slut,” he added, unconvincingly. France sighed, in resignation, but didn't argue. It was always better to humor a drunk Prussia. He'd learned that in Silesia.
“But anyway. What does she have, that we don't?” France opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. Silesia. “You know, aside from a pussy. And those holdings in the Americas. And there was that union thing (but that was years ago!) Come on, who wants pussy anyway?”
“Well--”
“No one!” Prussia shouted with a note of hysteria, not even noticing he'd been interrupted. He sat down again, exhausted by his speech. “No one,” he muttered again, rebelliously.
It hadn't been sudden, Antonio's withdrawal from their happy arrangement. It had been slow, steady. Ever since 1808-- France winced at the memory-- he had been more distant, less interested in their company. The camaraderie they'd shared after the War of Succession had gradually disappeared, until more and more often it was only Prussia and himself sitting around, drinking, and thinking of old times. It was perhaps inevitable that he had found companionship elsewhere.
Prussia and he had, of course, been in bed together alone. But it quickly turned into squabbles, with each unwilling to give ground to the other and bickering again and again about Napoleon. Prussia hadn't taken it as hard as his dear Antonio, partly because Prussia lived for war, and partly because Waterloo had been deeply satisfying for him. He still insisted that Jena-Auerstedt was a fluke, and France let him. Every once in a while it was enough to get him laid.
Without Antonio, they had moved farther from lovers and closer to drinking buddies. But France, who had known Spain since before Prussia existed, was willing to be happy for his friend, if regretfully. The two of them-- Antonio and his fellow Iberian-- had always had an intense relationship. It was no surprise that after working together during the Peninsular Wars, their relationship had begun to intensify again. He felt that it wouldn't be long before Isabel demanded official exclusivity, and he had no one to blame but himself.
Soon Prussia was snoring-- loudly-- on his table. France sighed, and carried him to bed for the third night running. The man may not have known Spain for as long, but France was willing to bet that he'd never had anyone but the two of them. He couldn't help touching Prussia's shoulder, briefly, before he left the room to sleep on the couch.
NOTES
*Olivenza was a province of Portugal (who's the chick in question, in case you hadn't noticed xD) that went to Spain in 1801-- it's a sore point with them to this day.
*Silesia was taken by Prussia from Austria in one of the most badass wars of the War of Succession
*In the sixteenth-seventeenth centuries, Spain and Portugal's monarchs got married and ruled their two countries together (Iberian Union)
*In 1807, Spain let France go through his territory to invade Portugal. But France, being all hyped up on adrenaline from the Napoleonic wars, decided to invade Spain TOO. Spain and Portugal fought back together in the Peninsular Wars.
*At Jena-Auerstedt, Napoleon whipped Prussia's ass. Like hard, hardcore.