Hey, Grandpa! (2/3)
anonymous
April 15 2009, 03:32:36 UTC
“Roderich?” By now, the three had walked over to the living room, Germania examining the furniture with interest.
“Austria,” Gilbert answered.
“Oh.” By ‘oh’, the previously long dead man had meant: ‘I wonder if he turned out okay. He seemed sort of wimpy. Maybe he’s stronger now’. Less than half an hour later, he found out the answer to this. It was, put simply, hell no.
The two stared at each other disdainfully for three minutes at the least. There was no word in any language to describe how much they were embarrassed for each other.
“So,” Germania spoke first, in his monotone, “I see you’ve…changed some.”
“Yes, so I have…” The room had suddenly become extremely quiet, as all of them were absorbed in their own thoughts.
Gilbert couldn’t help but think of this as the highlight of his life so far. Sure, it was extremely awkward, but still. It was Germania. Even though he still doubted it a little, the alternative of having an elf visit him was pretty awesome, too.
Meanwhile, Ludwig was having the identity crisis of a lifetime. Strangely, he had somehow acquired memories of an adorable young girl that bore a remarkable resemblance to a certain pasta-loving friend.
A firm knock on the door brought everyone back to reality. Ludwig rose to answer the door, though he had a vague idea of who it was. Apparently, he was right and Vash barged right in like he owned the place. Not like Ludwig would stop him if he actually thought so. You couldn’t be too careful around the Swiss man.
“I just came over to tell you to keep your dogs off of my la-“ Vash stopped midsentence, looking at the small group that had gathered around Germany’s coffee table, singling out the one that he never expected to see in his lifetime.
“Switzerland.” Germania nodded to his other grandson in his stoic manner. “I see you haven’t changed much.”
Not sure if this was a compliment or an insult, Vash merely stared at the man who should have been dead for ages. Eventually, he spoke, in a weary tone. “Good. Now I can ask you in person. I’m not really related to these idiots, right?”
“You’re my grandson and so are they. Sorry,” Germania shrugged.
“There’s no way I could possibly-“
“Just face it, Vash,” Gilbert interrupted with a smirk, “You’re just going to have to realize that you have similar genes as the three of us.”
“I lied. Just two of you. Austria’s adopted,” Germania added nonchalantly. Three blondes and one brunette stared at him as though he had sprouted wings. “What? I thought it was obvious.” The Austrian then made a noise that was only heard once before in history when Ludwig made it earlier that day. It was Roderich’s turn to have an identity crisis.
Hey, Grandpa! (3/3)
anonymous
April 15 2009, 03:34:59 UTC
Meanwhile, two brothers sat together in peaceful tomato farm in Spain.
“Hey Francis,” Antonio asked, tomato in hand, “Ever wonder why you have blonde hair while me, Romano and Veneziano have brown hair?” The Frenchman pondered this for a moment.
“I’ve always assumed it was because I’m special.”
((This author!anon realizes that she probably failed miserably at this request. Author!anon apologizes in advance and hopes someone fills this with something better.))
Re: Hey, Grandpa! (3/3)
anonymous
April 15 2009, 06:26:29 UTC
How lovely! How deliciously appropriate - just the kind of thing those German-speaking kinsfolk needed! Nothing like having your relative turning up to make you band together out of sheer fear...
Plus, it's the Grandpa who Kicked. Rome's. Ass. I think he's entitled to be Awesome (and now we see where Gilbert gets it!)
DID anyone fill out the Grandpa Rome request? I haven't seen it posted...
“Austria,” Gilbert answered.
“Oh.” By ‘oh’, the previously long dead man had meant: ‘I wonder if he turned out okay. He seemed sort of wimpy. Maybe he’s stronger now’. Less than half an hour later, he found out the answer to this. It was, put simply, hell no.
The two stared at each other disdainfully for three minutes at the least. There was no word in any language to describe how much they were embarrassed for each other.
“So,” Germania spoke first, in his monotone, “I see you’ve…changed some.”
“Yes, so I have…” The room had suddenly become extremely quiet, as all of them were absorbed in their own thoughts.
Gilbert couldn’t help but think of this as the highlight of his life so far. Sure, it was extremely awkward, but still. It was Germania. Even though he still doubted it a little, the alternative of having an elf visit him was pretty awesome, too.
Meanwhile, Ludwig was having the identity crisis of a lifetime. Strangely, he had somehow acquired memories of an adorable young girl that bore a remarkable resemblance to a certain pasta-loving friend.
A firm knock on the door brought everyone back to reality. Ludwig rose to answer the door, though he had a vague idea of who it was. Apparently, he was right and Vash barged right in like he owned the place. Not like Ludwig would stop him if he actually thought so. You couldn’t be too careful around the Swiss man.
“I just came over to tell you to keep your dogs off of my la-“ Vash stopped midsentence, looking at the small group that had gathered around Germany’s coffee table, singling out the one that he never expected to see in his lifetime.
“Switzerland.” Germania nodded to his other grandson in his stoic manner. “I see you haven’t changed much.”
Not sure if this was a compliment or an insult, Vash merely stared at the man who should have been dead for ages. Eventually, he spoke, in a weary tone. “Good. Now I can ask you in person. I’m not really related to these idiots, right?”
“You’re my grandson and so are they. Sorry,” Germania shrugged.
“There’s no way I could possibly-“
“Just face it, Vash,” Gilbert interrupted with a smirk, “You’re just going to have to realize that you have similar genes as the three of us.”
“I lied. Just two of you. Austria’s adopted,” Germania added nonchalantly. Three blondes and one brunette stared at him as though he had sprouted wings. “What? I thought it was obvious.” The Austrian then made a noise that was only heard once before in history when Ludwig made it earlier that day. It was Roderich’s turn to have an identity crisis.
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“Hey Francis,” Antonio asked, tomato in hand, “Ever wonder why you have blonde hair while me, Romano and Veneziano have brown hair?” The Frenchman pondered this for a moment.
“I’ve always assumed it was because I’m special.”
((This author!anon realizes that she probably failed miserably at this request. Author!anon apologizes in advance and hopes someone fills this with something better.))
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Reply
Plus, it's the Grandpa who Kicked. Rome's. Ass. I think he's entitled to be Awesome (and now we see where Gilbert gets it!)
DID anyone fill out the Grandpa Rome request? I haven't seen it posted...
Reply
Thank you, anon! It is awesome, and it is lovely, and I shall take it home with me, and I shall hug it and kiss it and call it Lawrence!
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