To love, to hold, to fuck things up 9/?
anonymous
May 1 2009, 09:33:00 UTC
Though Prussia lived in Germany's house nowadays, he also had an apartment of his own. It was required for both their sanity, he explained when Italy asked. Besides, Germany preferred to live in the countryside, but Prussia had always been fonder of having the bustle of people around. If it was in an urban environment or at a busy military camp was less important.
To avoid spoiling things with Italy's latest plan, he had stayed in his apartment the last four nights. Now, it was Friday evening and Italy had come to pick him up, before they initiated the last part of the plan to make West accept them into his life in the way they both wished.
The German brothers and Italy had dinner together on most Fridays, so he really had no reason to be nervous... but Prussia had a ominous feeling about this. West hadn't called either of them, nor had he been in touch with Austria. Of course, the most likely thing was that West had merely buried himself in his work again, but what if he had gone and done something stupid? He didn't have the best history when it came to dealing with depressions.
"We'll go see Germany, Germany, lalalaa, he's so handsome and nice," Italy sang while he skipped along the streets of Berlin. "I'll go to Germany and we'll eat pasta and wurst all day long, tralillaa~ Pasta in bed is a beeeeuuuutiful thing, but not as beautiful as Germany!" This behaviour earned him some odd looks from people passing by, but if anyone entertained thoughts of bothering him, Prussia's crimson glower convinced them otherwise.
Finally, they arrived. Both Italy and Prussia had keys of their own, so that the door was locked didn't bother them. But when none of the keys worked and, as it turned out, neither did Prussia's key to the kitchen door...
Italy began crying, convinced that Germany hated him for ever and ever now. And Prussia became absolutely furious. If he also feared that Germany hated him now, well, he'd been hated by more important nations before and fuck them all.
"WEST!" he bellowed, "Open this fucking door at once!"
The dogs barked inside, but no one answered, much less opened the door.
"I'm sorry, Germany!" Italy wailed. "Please open! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we can explain!"
"That's it," Prussia said when it became apparent that no one was going to open, "we're going in whether he likes it or not. The fuck you think you're doing, West, locking me out of my own home?" The last was yelled over his shoulder as he went down the few steps to the drive-way.
Italy stuck by the door and tried to speak through the keyhole. Useless, as Prussia well knew, Germany could be so painfully stubborn at times. This was, in fact, one of the few traits they had in common and it seemed as if West urgently needed a reminder as to what happened if you crossed Prussia!
A few years ago, West had convinced him that they should redo the garden. Somehow Prussia ended up having to lay down a shit-ton of bricks to build the wall for the new flower beds. Of course, he grew bored of that in the end - he was a warrior, not some goddamn handyman. If he remembered correctly, this was the part of the wall where he'd started the use less and less mortar.
"Hah, there we go!" Prussia said triumphantly and began tearing off bricks. He'd shown that little wessie bastard what happened if you tried to lock your awesome brother and your cute boyfriend out of the house!
"Waahh, German- Ve? Prussia? What are you doing? Ve! VE!"
The first window broke with a very satisfying crash and tinkle of glass splitter. Inside, the dogs raised a howl. Prussia hoped that West was quick enough to remove them from the broken glass before an accident happened.
"Knock-fucking-knock! You bastard!" he yelled and let another brick fly. Crash-tinkle-thunk went the next window.
To love, to hold, to fuck things up 10/?
anonymous
May 1 2009, 09:34:22 UTC
The third brick was already in Prussia's hand when Germany slammed the front door open and practically fell out of the house. His face was red, his eyes looked about to pop out of his face and (yes!) his hair had sprung free of the usual severe style. Frankly, Prussia thought that 'aggravated beyond coherency' was a look that fitted West perfectly well. Always made him want to keep riling the little shit until he just lost it, threw Prussia down and fucked him through the floor. Alas, West usually stuck to yelling.
"What the hell are you doing, you lunatic!" Germany howled, almost as loud as his dogs. "You- no, stop!"
Prussia let the third brick fly, he'd brought it here and why waste a perfectly good brick? Besides, West deserved it for leaving him standing outside his own house, looking like a fool.
"Up yours, brother!" he yelled back, "Trying to get rid of me, eh?"
Italy had at first cowered at the appearance of a furious Germany, but seemed to have gathered his courage now. With a cry that sounded suspiciously like pasta, he launched himself at Germany and proceeded to bawl down the other man's shirt completely.
While Germany was distracted with trying to pry the offending Italian off, Prussia sauntered over to the agitated doggies and brought them to their pen. He wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen next, but it was probably nothing for innocent eyes.
"Are you gonna let us inside, West, or do I have to knock louder?" Prussia asked as he returned.
Germany threw him a furious glare, but since he was also trying to convince Italy that he didn't hate him forever and ever, not to mention the smaller nation was clinging to him frantically, he couldn't really do that much.
"Fine," Germany ground out between clenched teeth, "let's take this inside. You two have a lot of explaining to do! And look at what you did to my house!"
"I thought it was our house?" Prussia asked in a low, dangerous tone.
Germany just stared at him for a moment, face hard and unrelenting. "Really? I thought you didn't want it anymore. After all," he began walking towards the house, dragging Italy with him, "you're usually so good at taking what you want from others, without regarding what they want!" His arms tightened around Italy, but the angry frown didn't lighten for a moment.
"Oh, brother." Prussia rolled his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you?" By now, the two nations had made it into the house and Prussia followed slowly. For once, he was really feeling his years.
"When it comes to you, I've always only tried to give you things..."
To love, to hold, to fuck things up 11/?
anonymous
May 2 2009, 09:11:53 UTC
Germany slammed down three large mugs at the kitchen table and then followed up with a steaming pot of hot cocoa. When he was finished, he sat down at the far end of the table and, very pointedly, looked at Italy. Since they had come inside, Germany had pretended Prussia, who currently stood slouched against the door, didn't exist.
"Are you okay?" Germany asked.
Italy sniffled a little and nodded. "Yes, Germany... Are you sure you don't hate us?" His entire being radiated pathetic adorability, even his curly hair was drooping.
"You know I don't hate you, Italy."
Prussia winced, unseen by the other two. His little brother could really be a passive-aggressive shit when he felt like it.
"Look," Prussia said, "it's your own fault for rushing to false conclusions and not even talking to us." This was a very fair point in his opinion. Unfortunately, so far Germany had ignored him every time he tried to raise it, but he hoped the drink was a peace offering.
"...I don't know what you're going on about," Germany said, without taking his eyes off Italy. Inside Prussia's mind, his troops played a victory salute. Of course, he had always known West couldn't stay angry at his amazing self for long!
"Oh, come on! You were jealous because you thought me and Veneziano here had shacked up together."
Germany harrumphed. "I'm sure Italy would have better taste than that, even if he did prefer men."
"Excuse me? Even if he-" Now, Prussia stalked over to the table and glared down at Italy. "I think you have left out a thing our two from when you told me of that little date in the forties, right, Italy?"
Italy tried to hide behind his cocoa mug.
"Mumblemumble what?" Prussia said and pried the cup from his fingers, ignoring Germany's admonishments that he stop bullying Italy at once. "Speak up, man!"
Italy looked down at his lap and then glanced over at Germany. "I said," he began, "that I usually prefer pretty women. But, ve, perhaps not every time."
Germany was far too large and intimidating a nation to squeak, but otherwise, the sound that escaped him at hearing that would definitely have been classified as a grade A "squeak".
"You, you what? Does that mean," Germany looked up at Prussia and then back at Italy, "you two really have? To- together?" There was something suspiciously teary-eyed about Germany in that moment.
"No, Germany!" Italy immediately said and climbed onto Germany's lap with such speed that the cocoa slopped all over the table. "I love Germany!" Prussia watched the events with a calculating eye. When Germany began to pat Italy's back awkwardly and the Mediterranean nation stopped sobbing, he nodded to himself. So now things were going back to the way they had been, eh? Well, not as long as Prussia lived and breathed!
"Say, West, out of completely academic interest... What do you just think happened?"
"What?" Germany turned back to his brother. "What are you on about now, Prussia?" He frowned. "Haven't you already made enough of a mess of things for today?"
"I asked," Prussia said through gritted teeth, "what you think just happened. If you want to keep a whole window in this house, you'd better answer!"
"How dare you threaten me!" Germany said and stood awkwardly, still holding Italy. "And you'd better believe you'll have to pay for those windows!"
"Oh? Oh, and who is going to make me, eh?" Prussia smirked and took a cup, slurping down the cocoa with exaggerated care. "Not muscle-bound, brainless West, who hasn't even figured out that his best friend isn't exactly straight and has been waiting to fuck him for the last, oh, forty-five years?"
This time, Italy was the one who squeaked. Although that may have been less from Prussia's word's and more from the fact that Germany dropped him as he went for his brother with murder in his eyes.
To love, to hold, to fuck things up 12/?
anonymous
May 2 2009, 09:13:40 UTC
A constant litany of "oh no, oh no, don't let them kill each other! And most of all, don't let them kill me!" went trough Italy's head as Germany finally lost all control.
It seemed as if plan Love/Liebe/L'amore would fail even more spectacularly than plan C. It may even be the last plan Italy and Prussia hatched together, because as things seemed right now, Germany was soon going to kill his cackling brother.
Wait a minute. Italy frowned and then ducked down beneath the table as the spice-rack went flying through the air.
There was something strange about this fight, if he could just figure it out... Very carefully, Italy stuck his head out again to observe the happenings.
Germany was shaking Prussia by his shirt and yelling incoherently at him. Meanwhile, Prussia's hand snaked along the counter until his hand encountered a large wooden spoon. With a ferocious grin, he whacked Germany over the head with it.
Germany stumbled backwards, but managed to grab hold of a chair and steady himself. Italy almost went back completely under the table when he realized that Germany was actually growling at Prussia.
"Take that, West! Ahahaha- Ooof!"
The chair, made of solid pieces of oak like most of Germany's furniture, was swung with frightening accuracy at Prussia who crashed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Only moments later, however, he was up again. Soon Prussia was demonstrating some impressive skills in cast-iron pan fighting; he must have picked it up during all those years getting clobbered by Hungary, Italy figured.
Italy went back beneath the table and curled into a small, protective ball. They were going to kill each other. Germany seemed senseless with fury, while Prussia kept laughing and taunting him all the time, as if he'd never had more... fun...
Oh, dear merciful mother of God.
This must be Prussia flirting.
tbc...
(sorry, op!anon, this may not be your typical seduction, but I am getting there! slowly...)
Re: To love, to hold, to fuck things up 12/?
anonymous
May 2 2009, 13:32:01 UTC
Aw, man, writer!anon you are freakin' awesome! This entire fic is great (brings a grin to my face no matter how many times I read it - well, what's here at the time), but I think those last two lines in this part just stepped ahead of all the brick throwing and bawling of parts 9 and 10.
You've made me realise that they're all their own special brand of EPIC FAIL. Though I don't know who's I find more amusing, Germany's or Prussia's. You write them both (and Italy) so well!
author!anon - moved comment thread a bit!
anonymous
May 2 2009, 17:13:57 UTC
just wanted to alert everyone that I've started posting as threaded comments to chapter one again, because the comments were collapsing and looking all wonky over here...
To avoid spoiling things with Italy's latest plan, he had stayed in his apartment the last four nights. Now, it was Friday evening and Italy had come to pick him up, before they initiated the last part of the plan to make West accept them into his life in the way they both wished.
The German brothers and Italy had dinner together on most Fridays, so he really had no reason to be nervous... but Prussia had a ominous feeling about this.
West hadn't called either of them, nor had he been in touch with Austria. Of course, the most likely thing was that West had merely buried himself in his work again, but what if he had gone and done something stupid? He didn't have the best history when it came to dealing with depressions.
"We'll go see Germany, Germany, lalalaa, he's so handsome and nice," Italy sang while he skipped along the streets of Berlin. "I'll go to Germany and we'll eat pasta and wurst all day long, tralillaa~ Pasta in bed is a beeeeuuuutiful thing, but not as beautiful as Germany!"
This behaviour earned him some odd looks from people passing by, but if anyone entertained thoughts of bothering him, Prussia's crimson glower convinced them otherwise.
Finally, they arrived. Both Italy and Prussia had keys of their own, so that the door was locked didn't bother them. But when none of the keys worked and, as it turned out, neither did Prussia's key to the kitchen door...
Italy began crying, convinced that Germany hated him for ever and ever now. And Prussia became absolutely furious.
If he also feared that Germany hated him now, well, he'd been hated by more important nations before and fuck them all.
"WEST!" he bellowed, "Open this fucking door at once!"
The dogs barked inside, but no one answered, much less opened the door.
"I'm sorry, Germany!" Italy wailed. "Please open! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we can explain!"
"That's it," Prussia said when it became apparent that no one was going to open, "we're going in whether he likes it or not. The fuck you think you're doing, West, locking me out of my own home?" The last was yelled over his shoulder as he went down the few steps to the drive-way.
Italy stuck by the door and tried to speak through the keyhole. Useless, as Prussia well knew, Germany could be so painfully stubborn at times. This was, in fact, one of the few traits they had in common and it seemed as if West urgently needed a reminder as to what happened if you crossed Prussia!
A few years ago, West had convinced him that they should redo the garden. Somehow Prussia ended up having to lay down a shit-ton of bricks to build the wall for the new flower beds. Of course, he grew bored of that in the end - he was a warrior, not some goddamn handyman. If he remembered correctly, this was the part of the wall where he'd started the use less and less mortar.
"Hah, there we go!" Prussia said triumphantly and began tearing off bricks. He'd shown that little wessie bastard what happened if you tried to lock your awesome brother and your cute boyfriend out of the house!
"Waahh, German- Ve? Prussia? What are you doing? Ve! VE!"
The first window broke with a very satisfying crash and tinkle of glass splitter. Inside, the dogs raised a howl. Prussia hoped that West was quick enough to remove them from the broken glass before an accident happened.
"Knock-fucking-knock! You bastard!" he yelled and let another brick fly. Crash-tinkle-thunk went the next window.
tbc...
Reply
Frankly, Prussia thought that 'aggravated beyond coherency' was a look that fitted West perfectly well. Always made him want to keep riling the little shit until he just lost it, threw Prussia down and fucked him through the floor. Alas, West usually stuck to yelling.
"What the hell are you doing, you lunatic!" Germany howled, almost as loud as his dogs. "You- no, stop!"
Prussia let the third brick fly, he'd brought it here and why waste a perfectly good brick? Besides, West deserved it for leaving him standing outside his own house, looking like a fool.
"Up yours, brother!" he yelled back, "Trying to get rid of me, eh?"
Italy had at first cowered at the appearance of a furious Germany, but seemed to have gathered his courage now. With a cry that sounded suspiciously like pasta, he launched himself at Germany and proceeded to bawl down the other man's shirt completely.
While Germany was distracted with trying to pry the offending Italian off, Prussia sauntered over to the agitated doggies and brought them to their pen. He wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen next, but it was probably nothing for innocent eyes.
"Are you gonna let us inside, West, or do I have to knock louder?" Prussia asked as he returned.
Germany threw him a furious glare, but since he was also trying to convince Italy that he didn't hate him forever and ever, not to mention the smaller nation was clinging to him frantically, he couldn't really do that much.
"Fine," Germany ground out between clenched teeth, "let's take this inside. You two have a lot of explaining to do! And look at what you did to my house!"
"I thought it was our house?" Prussia asked in a low, dangerous tone.
Germany just stared at him for a moment, face hard and unrelenting. "Really? I thought you didn't want it anymore. After all," he began walking towards the house, dragging Italy with him, "you're usually so good at taking what you want from others, without regarding what they want!" His arms tightened around Italy, but the angry frown didn't lighten for a moment.
"Oh, brother." Prussia rolled his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you?" By now, the two nations had made it into the house and Prussia followed slowly. For once, he was really feeling his years.
"When it comes to you, I've always only tried to give you things..."
tbc...
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I fucking love this fic.
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I lol'd. XD
More please! This fic is great!
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I loved the, "Knock fucking knock!" line in part 9! And the "Are you gonna let us inside, West, or do I have to knock louder?" had me floored.
I can't wait until you post again! <3
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"Are you okay?" Germany asked.
Italy sniffled a little and nodded. "Yes, Germany... Are you sure you don't hate us?" His entire being radiated pathetic adorability, even his curly hair was drooping.
"You know I don't hate you, Italy."
Prussia winced, unseen by the other two. His little brother could really be a passive-aggressive shit when he felt like it.
"Look," Prussia said, "it's your own fault for rushing to false conclusions and not even talking to us."
This was a very fair point in his opinion. Unfortunately, so far Germany had ignored him every time he tried to raise it, but he hoped the drink was a peace offering.
"...I don't know what you're going on about," Germany said, without taking his eyes off Italy. Inside Prussia's mind, his troops played a victory salute. Of course, he had always known West couldn't stay angry at his amazing self for long!
"Oh, come on! You were jealous because you thought me and Veneziano here had shacked up together."
Germany harrumphed. "I'm sure Italy would have better taste than that, even if he did prefer men."
"Excuse me? Even if he-" Now, Prussia stalked over to the table and glared down at Italy. "I think you have left out a thing our two from when you told me of that little date in the forties, right, Italy?"
Italy tried to hide behind his cocoa mug.
"Mumblemumble what?" Prussia said and pried the cup from his fingers, ignoring Germany's admonishments that he stop bullying Italy at once. "Speak up, man!"
Italy looked down at his lap and then glanced over at Germany. "I said," he began, "that I usually prefer pretty women. But, ve, perhaps not every time."
Germany was far too large and intimidating a nation to squeak, but otherwise, the sound that escaped him at hearing that would definitely have been classified as a grade A "squeak".
"You, you what? Does that mean," Germany looked up at Prussia and then back at Italy, "you two really have? To- together?" There was something suspiciously teary-eyed about Germany in that moment.
"No, Germany!" Italy immediately said and climbed onto Germany's lap with such speed that the cocoa slopped all over the table. "I love Germany!"
Prussia watched the events with a calculating eye. When Germany began to pat Italy's back awkwardly and the Mediterranean nation stopped sobbing, he nodded to himself. So now things were going back to the way they had been, eh? Well, not as long as Prussia lived and breathed!
"Say, West, out of completely academic interest... What do you just think happened?"
"What?" Germany turned back to his brother. "What are you on about now, Prussia?" He frowned. "Haven't you already made enough of a mess of things for today?"
"I asked," Prussia said through gritted teeth, "what you think just happened. If you want to keep a whole window in this house, you'd better answer!"
"How dare you threaten me!" Germany said and stood awkwardly, still holding Italy. "And you'd better believe you'll have to pay for those windows!"
"Oh? Oh, and who is going to make me, eh?" Prussia smirked and took a cup, slurping down the cocoa with exaggerated care.
"Not muscle-bound, brainless West, who hasn't even figured out that his best friend isn't exactly straight and has been waiting to fuck him for the last, oh, forty-five years?"
This time, Italy was the one who squeaked. Although that may have been less from Prussia's word's and more from the fact that Germany dropped him as he went for his brother with murder in his eyes.
tbc...
Reply
It seemed as if plan Love/Liebe/L'amore would fail even more spectacularly than plan C. It may even be the last plan Italy and Prussia hatched together, because as things seemed right now, Germany was soon going to kill his cackling brother.
Wait a minute. Italy frowned and then ducked down beneath the table as the spice-rack went flying through the air.
There was something strange about this fight, if he could just figure it out... Very carefully, Italy stuck his head out again to observe the happenings.
Germany was shaking Prussia by his shirt and yelling incoherently at him. Meanwhile, Prussia's hand snaked along the counter until his hand encountered a large wooden spoon. With a ferocious grin, he whacked Germany over the head with it.
Germany stumbled backwards, but managed to grab hold of a chair and steady himself. Italy almost went back completely under the table when he realized that Germany was actually growling at Prussia.
"Take that, West! Ahahaha- Ooof!"
The chair, made of solid pieces of oak like most of Germany's furniture, was swung with frightening accuracy at Prussia who crashed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Only moments later, however, he was up again. Soon Prussia was demonstrating some impressive skills in cast-iron pan fighting; he must have picked it up during all those years getting clobbered by Hungary, Italy figured.
Italy went back beneath the table and curled into a small, protective ball. They were going to kill each other. Germany seemed senseless with fury, while Prussia kept laughing and taunting him all the time, as if he'd never had more... fun...
Oh, dear merciful mother of God.
This must be Prussia flirting.
tbc...
(sorry, op!anon, this may not be your typical seduction, but I am getting there! slowly...)
Reply
You've made me realise that they're all their own special brand of EPIC FAIL. Though I don't know who's I find more amusing, Germany's or Prussia's. You write them both (and Italy) so well!
I can't wait until the next part! <3<3<3
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My mission in life is complete *salutes* XD
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This way for part 13-16:
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/6850.html?thread=9338306#t9338306
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This must be Prussia flirting."
B'AWWWW. ;____;
PRUSSIA IS TOO CUTE FOR WORDS.
I love you anon ; 3; *chu*
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