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Don't finish it so soon, please, I absolutely love this story!
About Russian vikings
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ushkuiniks
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ushkuiniks
One of my Spanish-speaking friends told me that all French words sound ugly to her.
i wouldn't be so harsh, actually French sounds beautiful, just a little too affected at timesXD
(I guess it depends on the voice of who's talking?)
One of the other fillers might give you some England!cuddles, though.
(personally I would love to see some well-executed England/Russia, but I don't want to write it)
Oh, now I wish the England!cuddles are UKRussia cuddles ^^
Yayy, thank you!
i wouldn't be so harsh, actually French sounds beautiful, just a little too affected at timesXD
(I guess it depends on the voice of who's talking?)
One of the other fillers might give you some England!cuddles, though.
(personally I would love to see some well-executed England/Russia, but I don't want to write it)
Oh, now I wish the England!cuddles are UKRussia cuddles ^^
Yayy, thank you!
Suddenly the time when Finland was part of the Soviet Union just got a little more awkward.
I wonder if Tino would enjoy that suddenly he's practically Mom to almost half the globe now.exaggeration.
I wonder if Tino would enjoy that suddenly he's practically Mom to almost half the globe now.
Thanks, you two! So are now both requests (France/Germany and ChinAmeRu) in or just one? Lol, I fail at this ^^U
Same author!anon as Not Like Them at your service! Hope this one suits your fancy.Warning for lots of silliness ahead...
Truth Be Told
Spain downed the last of his sangria with a single gulp. It was no good. The buzz didn’t make him feel any better, but maybe talking to France would. At the very least, it might help him figure out how to go about fixing the mess he was in. The blonde man always made a good counselor…even if Spain had to deal with the not-so-subtle groping that he was usually too distracted to notice as he poured his heart out. Either that or he was too used to it to notice anymore.
“Go ahead, mon ami,” France said, rubbing his friend on the back, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“You should know,” Spain hiccupped miserably. “You were there.”
France smiled and put down his glass of wine. He was happy his friend had decided to come out to his house to have a drink with him. It seemed they rarely got to spend much time together anymore since Spain had fallen into another one of his sulky states.
“Ahh, so this is about that incident, hmm? Well, have you tried just saying you’re sorry?”
Spain shook his head.
“Romano won’t listen to a word I say. I still don’t understand what’s got him so upset. We weren’t even going out anymore when it happened. The break-up happened weeks ago.”
“Yes,” said France, knowingly, “I remember. You were a weepy mess for days.”
“I know…I thought I’d lost him for good. But when I heard what it said about him,” Spain continued, unaware of the fact that France’s hand was going dangerously low now, “I thought maybe he still loved me. I thought that maybe he might want to get back together.”
He stared at his empty glass, depressed and feeling just as drained on the inside as the pain of those memories came back to him. He had messed up badly, not being able to defend himself against Romano’s accusations from that time - the accusations that he had been eying his brother whenever the younger Italian sibling had come to visit. It was true that Spain doted on Veneziano excessively and gladly gave him the hugs and kisses he accepted so easily when Romano would have surely pushed him away for doing the same thing. But love? He had tried to love Italy - tried even harder when Romano had gotten sick of Spain’s apparent “two-timing” and moved out, but it had never felt the same. He would always love Romano and only Romano. The two had finally been back on speaking terms at the time of “the incident,” but now he was broken, hurt, and still alone. And not even another glass of sangria was going to change that.
Truth Be Told
Spain downed the last of his sangria with a single gulp. It was no good. The buzz didn’t make him feel any better, but maybe talking to France would. At the very least, it might help him figure out how to go about fixing the mess he was in. The blonde man always made a good counselor…even if Spain had to deal with the not-so-subtle groping that he was usually too distracted to notice as he poured his heart out. Either that or he was too used to it to notice anymore.
“Go ahead, mon ami,” France said, rubbing his friend on the back, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“You should know,” Spain hiccupped miserably. “You were there.”
France smiled and put down his glass of wine. He was happy his friend had decided to come out to his house to have a drink with him. It seemed they rarely got to spend much time together anymore since Spain had fallen into another one of his sulky states.
“Ahh, so this is about that incident, hmm? Well, have you tried just saying you’re sorry?”
Spain shook his head.
“Romano won’t listen to a word I say. I still don’t understand what’s got him so upset. We weren’t even going out anymore when it happened. The break-up happened weeks ago.”
“Yes,” said France, knowingly, “I remember. You were a weepy mess for days.”
“I know…I thought I’d lost him for good. But when I heard what it said about him,” Spain continued, unaware of the fact that France’s hand was going dangerously low now, “I thought maybe he still loved me. I thought that maybe he might want to get back together.”
He stared at his empty glass, depressed and feeling just as drained on the inside as the pain of those memories came back to him. He had messed up badly, not being able to defend himself against Romano’s accusations from that time - the accusations that he had been eying his brother whenever the younger Italian sibling had come to visit. It was true that Spain doted on Veneziano excessively and gladly gave him the hugs and kisses he accepted so easily when Romano would have surely pushed him away for doing the same thing. But love? He had tried to love Italy - tried even harder when Romano had gotten sick of Spain’s apparent “two-timing” and moved out, but it had never felt the same. He would always love Romano and only Romano. The two had finally been back on speaking terms at the time of “the incident,” but now he was broken, hurt, and still alone. And not even another glass of sangria was going to change that.
This whole thing just keeps on getting funnier. As if Hetalia hadn't turned world history into a family drama already. I'm definitely using this for a request when the freeze is over.
Only this article for some reason does not say that ushkuyniks transformed into the river Cossacks, who opened up and won for Russia much of the land in the East (from Moscowy)- including Siberia and Alaska.
...THE INCIDENT...
“Well?! Are we just gonna stare at it or what?”
Prussia’s squawking broke everyone out of their transfixed looks, making them jump slightly in unison. Austria adjusted the glasses on his nose while Hungary peered warily around him. England and France were both staring at the object with frowns on their faces. The British man had his arms crossed and was leaning away in a disapproving stance, matching Romano, who stood nearby. The last person, Spain, was the first to answer the red-eyed man‘s question.
“If this is what you say it is, mi amigo, then we should put it to the test. Each of us will throw a coin in and listen to what the well has to tell us.”
He gestured at the sign next to the structure that had been unexpectedly discovered on the border of Spain and France’s territories while Prussia had been visiting them. It made the function of the well perfectly clear: This is the Well of Uncomfortable Truths. Let all those who wish to test their hearts cast in a coin, and the truth shall be told.
“But it’s supposed to be the well of uncomfortable truths,” Hungary pointed out. “Which means we’re not likely to want to hear what it says.”
“Yes, maybe it’s best if we left it alone,” Austria agreed, eying the well with obvious discomfort. He and Hungary had only come because of Spain’s insistence. It had hardly turned out to be the “big discovery” he had had in mind.
“You’re all just a bunch of cowards!” Prussia laughed. “Especially you, Specs! You wouldn’t touch danger with a ten-foot pole! Go back to playing your piano, you big sissy!”
He earned a resounding smack from Hungary’s frying pan, which she had conveniently brought with her. It seemed to Prussia she always had one.
“If you’re so brave, why don’t you go first!” she challenged, shoving him towards the well.
Prussia rubbed the sizable bump on his head and stood up straight, puffing out his chest in a motion of quick recovery.
“Of course I will! The awesome me isn’t afraid of some clump of stones and water!”
Without further hesitation or insults, the feisty nation dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin. With one flip of his thumb, he sent the money spinning into the air and down into the depths to the well. After a moment, the group could hear a small plop as metal hit water, and suddenly, a voice echoed through the well’s stony depths, startling them all.
“You had the biggest crush on her…until you learned she was female.”
There was a shocked silence, and Prussia’s eyes bulged as he stared at Hungary in panic. The frying pan-wielding woman had already figured out who the well was referring to, though, and she took an intimidating step towards the man, tightening her grip on the cooking ware.
“Prussiaaa…”
“N-no! You’ve got it wrong! You’re not the one it’s talking about! I never thought of you like that! And I never liked guys! It was a lie! Lie! Liiiiieeeee!”
His last screech pierced the air as Hungary bolted after him, and the rest of the group could hear the clang of metal hitting bone as the two disappeared into the distance. The remaining members chose to ignore the noise and instead, looked at each other questioningly, wondering who was next. After a long moment of silence and staring, France shoved England forward, not at all gently.
“Well?! Are we just gonna stare at it or what?”
Prussia’s squawking broke everyone out of their transfixed looks, making them jump slightly in unison. Austria adjusted the glasses on his nose while Hungary peered warily around him. England and France were both staring at the object with frowns on their faces. The British man had his arms crossed and was leaning away in a disapproving stance, matching Romano, who stood nearby. The last person, Spain, was the first to answer the red-eyed man‘s question.
“If this is what you say it is, mi amigo, then we should put it to the test. Each of us will throw a coin in and listen to what the well has to tell us.”
He gestured at the sign next to the structure that had been unexpectedly discovered on the border of Spain and France’s territories while Prussia had been visiting them. It made the function of the well perfectly clear: This is the Well of Uncomfortable Truths. Let all those who wish to test their hearts cast in a coin, and the truth shall be told.
“But it’s supposed to be the well of uncomfortable truths,” Hungary pointed out. “Which means we’re not likely to want to hear what it says.”
“Yes, maybe it’s best if we left it alone,” Austria agreed, eying the well with obvious discomfort. He and Hungary had only come because of Spain’s insistence. It had hardly turned out to be the “big discovery” he had had in mind.
“You’re all just a bunch of cowards!” Prussia laughed. “Especially you, Specs! You wouldn’t touch danger with a ten-foot pole! Go back to playing your piano, you big sissy!”
He earned a resounding smack from Hungary’s frying pan, which she had conveniently brought with her. It seemed to Prussia she always had one.
“If you’re so brave, why don’t you go first!” she challenged, shoving him towards the well.
Prussia rubbed the sizable bump on his head and stood up straight, puffing out his chest in a motion of quick recovery.
“Of course I will! The awesome me isn’t afraid of some clump of stones and water!”
Without further hesitation or insults, the feisty nation dug into his pocket and pulled out a coin. With one flip of his thumb, he sent the money spinning into the air and down into the depths to the well. After a moment, the group could hear a small plop as metal hit water, and suddenly, a voice echoed through the well’s stony depths, startling them all.
“You had the biggest crush on her…until you learned she was female.”
There was a shocked silence, and Prussia’s eyes bulged as he stared at Hungary in panic. The frying pan-wielding woman had already figured out who the well was referring to, though, and she took an intimidating step towards the man, tightening her grip on the cooking ware.
“Prussiaaa…”
“N-no! You’ve got it wrong! You’re not the one it’s talking about! I never thought of you like that! And I never liked guys! It was a lie! Lie! Liiiiieeeee!”
His last screech pierced the air as Hungary bolted after him, and the rest of the group could hear the clang of metal hitting bone as the two disappeared into the distance. The remaining members chose to ignore the noise and instead, looked at each other questioningly, wondering who was next. After a long moment of silence and staring, France shoved England forward, not at all gently.
“What was that for, you bloody git?!” the smaller nation shouted as he reeled on him.
“I was just volunteering you,” France replied with sly smile.
“Why should I try that stupid thing?” the British man huffed. “It’s ridiculous.”
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
“Of course not,” England growled, annoyed at how the other man was manipulating him. He trudged towards the well reluctantly and took out a coin.
“Don’t worry- I’m sure it accepts all forms of currency!” France jeered from behind him.
“Shut up,” England snapped and tossed his coin into the well.
The voice came echoing up the stone walls once again.
“You say you hate him, but honestly, you really care about his opinion and want to impress him.”
“O-oh?” France said loudly after an awkward silence hung in the air. “Could it be the well is talking about me?”
England gaped at him, wide-eyed, but shook his head in denial.
“Of course not! Don’t get so full of yourself! The blasted thing was talking about someone else!”
“But there’s no telling…It could have been talking about me, non?” the Frenchman said gleefully.
“Shut up! There are other people that can apply to, you know!” England insisted, face red.
It was hard for the others to tell if he was lying or not, but while the short blonde fumed, France smirked and calmly made his way to the well to take his turn next.
“Here I go,” he said, as he flipped a coin in and waited. The well gave its answer just as it had for England.
“There’s only one person you want, but you chase after everyone because you know there’s no way you can ever have him.”
France went pale, and he glanced at the others out of the corner of his eye nervously. England, whose face had never had the chance to recover and resume its normal color, had fire in his eyes to match the red spread across his features.
“It BETTER be talking about someone else,” he growled.
“O-of course!” France stuttered, while backing away from the other man slowly. “There’s no way I would fall for anyone as grouchy and unattractive as you.”
“Why you-!”
No one blinked twice when England started chasing the other blonde around in a mad rage. Speaking of mad rages, Hungary had just come back from hers.
“Sorry about that,” she said politely.
Prussia was nowhere in sight. Austria looked at her questioningly, but the woman made no excuses and gave no explanations. Instead she walked up to the fountain calmly and pulled out her own coin.
“May as well get this over with,” she said as she flipped it in and waited nervously for the well’s response. The well’s voice was calm but straight-forward.
“You really love him, but you’re too afraid to ever tell him so to his face.”
Hungary gasped and stepped back, trying to hide her obvious embarrassment. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet and cleared her throat. The other nations stared at her for a moment until Austria finally approached her worriedly and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay, Hungary?” he asked and looked surprised when Hungary flinched under his touch.
“Y-yes, just fine,” she replied, forcing a smile.
She wouldn’t look at the man, though. Austria’s own cheeks flushed, and he looked over Hungary’s shoulder at the well. He approached it and took his turn hesitantly. The well seemed to wait a while before giving him a reply, as if it was trying to build the already unbearable suspense.
“You’re too proud to admit how much you love her to anyone - even yourself.”
“Ah-!” Austria gasped.
He stumbled away from Hungary, who had snapped out of her own withdrawal after hearing the well’s words and was now staring at Austria with deep curiosity. The man tried to regain his composure, but was having a difficult time as he was more than conscious of the heat radiating from his face. Everyone was silent, throwing inconspicuous glances at the only two that remained.
“I was just volunteering you,” France replied with sly smile.
“Why should I try that stupid thing?” the British man huffed. “It’s ridiculous.”
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
“Of course not,” England growled, annoyed at how the other man was manipulating him. He trudged towards the well reluctantly and took out a coin.
“Don’t worry- I’m sure it accepts all forms of currency!” France jeered from behind him.
“Shut up,” England snapped and tossed his coin into the well.
The voice came echoing up the stone walls once again.
“You say you hate him, but honestly, you really care about his opinion and want to impress him.”
“O-oh?” France said loudly after an awkward silence hung in the air. “Could it be the well is talking about me?”
England gaped at him, wide-eyed, but shook his head in denial.
“Of course not! Don’t get so full of yourself! The blasted thing was talking about someone else!”
“But there’s no telling…It could have been talking about me, non?” the Frenchman said gleefully.
“Shut up! There are other people that can apply to, you know!” England insisted, face red.
It was hard for the others to tell if he was lying or not, but while the short blonde fumed, France smirked and calmly made his way to the well to take his turn next.
“Here I go,” he said, as he flipped a coin in and waited. The well gave its answer just as it had for England.
“There’s only one person you want, but you chase after everyone because you know there’s no way you can ever have him.”
France went pale, and he glanced at the others out of the corner of his eye nervously. England, whose face had never had the chance to recover and resume its normal color, had fire in his eyes to match the red spread across his features.
“It BETTER be talking about someone else,” he growled.
“O-of course!” France stuttered, while backing away from the other man slowly. “There’s no way I would fall for anyone as grouchy and unattractive as you.”
“Why you-!”
No one blinked twice when England started chasing the other blonde around in a mad rage. Speaking of mad rages, Hungary had just come back from hers.
“Sorry about that,” she said politely.
Prussia was nowhere in sight. Austria looked at her questioningly, but the woman made no excuses and gave no explanations. Instead she walked up to the fountain calmly and pulled out her own coin.
“May as well get this over with,” she said as she flipped it in and waited nervously for the well’s response. The well’s voice was calm but straight-forward.
“You really love him, but you’re too afraid to ever tell him so to his face.”
Hungary gasped and stepped back, trying to hide her obvious embarrassment. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet and cleared her throat. The other nations stared at her for a moment until Austria finally approached her worriedly and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay, Hungary?” he asked and looked surprised when Hungary flinched under his touch.
“Y-yes, just fine,” she replied, forcing a smile.
She wouldn’t look at the man, though. Austria’s own cheeks flushed, and he looked over Hungary’s shoulder at the well. He approached it and took his turn hesitantly. The well seemed to wait a while before giving him a reply, as if it was trying to build the already unbearable suspense.
“You’re too proud to admit how much you love her to anyone - even yourself.”
“Ah-!” Austria gasped.
He stumbled away from Hungary, who had snapped out of her own withdrawal after hearing the well’s words and was now staring at Austria with deep curiosity. The man tried to regain his composure, but was having a difficult time as he was more than conscious of the heat radiating from his face. Everyone was silent, throwing inconspicuous glances at the only two that remained.
“Well!” Spain chirped suddenly, startling everyone out of their stiffness. “I guess I’ll go next!”
Romano groaned as he realized his former boss was the only one in the group too oblivious to sense the tension present in the atmosphere. The Spaniard carried on as if nothing were awkward at all and strode towards the well without so much as a pause.
“Let’s see…” he said, reaching down into his pocket and fishing out his coin. “Ah! Here.”
With one flip, the glinting piece of metal fell down into the depths of the well and landed with a tiny splash at the bottom. This time, the well’s voice somehow seemed more menacing than before, with a hint of gloating, as if it had just discovered the juiciest secret and was only too happy to share it. Its knowing laugh should have been enough to alert the others that trouble was coming, but Spain just kept smiling.
“Whenever you said you loved him,” it told him, “you didn’t really mean it. You were thinking of his brother. They were empty words.”
Spain stopped smiling. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he thought about what the well had said. Most of the others were gaping at him with the expression of those who had just overheard the telling of a horrible scandal. Then, all eyes fell on Romano.
The young Italian’s cheeks were noticeably tinted, but he kept a straight face and only stared at Spain with an expression that was unreadable. Spain tried to smile at him, but Romano gave no reaction. Instead, he pretended not to care about the other man’s truth and walked right past him silently, flipping a coin into the well and fulfilling his obligation as the last member of the small group. The well wasted no time responding to him. Its voice was noticeably gentler than it had been for any of the others.
“You really did love him.”
The shocked silence of the other countries seemed quieter than it had been the whole afternoon, if that was at all possible. Romano kept his gaze fixed on the darkness of the well before him, his face obviously fighting the reactions his heart wanted to give. Spain, overcoming his usual denseness, suddenly understood that Romano’s truth was referring to him. Half of his smile returned.
“Romano,” he said softly, and reached out to touch the boy.
His hand was slapped away sharply.
“Get away from me, you bastard!” Romano shouted at him, angry tears escaping from his face despite his best efforts to keep them in. “You can go to hell!”
With that, he tore away from the group and bolted as far from them and that stupid well as he could. He didn’t even look back. Spain cried out after him, his voice sounding deeply hurt as he was cut deep by Romano’s words.
“Roma-!”
He chased after him immediately, leaving the other four staring after him in disbelief. They watched as the Country of Passion disappeared into the distance, his former charge long gone before him. It took them a while to recover and remember the tension that still existed between them.
“Well,” Austria said, clearing his throat and trying, for the first time, to regain the calmness that had once been present among the group. “Shall we look for Prussia?”
Romano groaned as he realized his former boss was the only one in the group too oblivious to sense the tension present in the atmosphere. The Spaniard carried on as if nothing were awkward at all and strode towards the well without so much as a pause.
“Let’s see…” he said, reaching down into his pocket and fishing out his coin. “Ah! Here.”
With one flip, the glinting piece of metal fell down into the depths of the well and landed with a tiny splash at the bottom. This time, the well’s voice somehow seemed more menacing than before, with a hint of gloating, as if it had just discovered the juiciest secret and was only too happy to share it. Its knowing laugh should have been enough to alert the others that trouble was coming, but Spain just kept smiling.
“Whenever you said you loved him,” it told him, “you didn’t really mean it. You were thinking of his brother. They were empty words.”
Spain stopped smiling. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he thought about what the well had said. Most of the others were gaping at him with the expression of those who had just overheard the telling of a horrible scandal. Then, all eyes fell on Romano.
The young Italian’s cheeks were noticeably tinted, but he kept a straight face and only stared at Spain with an expression that was unreadable. Spain tried to smile at him, but Romano gave no reaction. Instead, he pretended not to care about the other man’s truth and walked right past him silently, flipping a coin into the well and fulfilling his obligation as the last member of the small group. The well wasted no time responding to him. Its voice was noticeably gentler than it had been for any of the others.
“You really did love him.”
The shocked silence of the other countries seemed quieter than it had been the whole afternoon, if that was at all possible. Romano kept his gaze fixed on the darkness of the well before him, his face obviously fighting the reactions his heart wanted to give. Spain, overcoming his usual denseness, suddenly understood that Romano’s truth was referring to him. Half of his smile returned.
“Romano,” he said softly, and reached out to touch the boy.
His hand was slapped away sharply.
“Get away from me, you bastard!” Romano shouted at him, angry tears escaping from his face despite his best efforts to keep them in. “You can go to hell!”
With that, he tore away from the group and bolted as far from them and that stupid well as he could. He didn’t even look back. Spain cried out after him, his voice sounding deeply hurt as he was cut deep by Romano’s words.
“Roma-!”
He chased after him immediately, leaving the other four staring after him in disbelief. They watched as the Country of Passion disappeared into the distance, his former charge long gone before him. It took them a while to recover and remember the tension that still existed between them.
“Well,” Austria said, clearing his throat and trying, for the first time, to regain the calmness that had once been present among the group. “Shall we look for Prussia?”
....AFTER THE INCIDENT...
I never caught up with him.
Spain didn’t protest as France fixed him another drink to refill his cup. He also failed to notice that sometime during his recollection, his belt had been unbuckled. He just sat at the counter of France’s built-in bar and thought to himself. And thought. And thought. And thought.
“I GET IT!” he burst suddenly, scaring France and making him spill the drink he had been preparing all over his new white shirt. The Spaniard ignored his friend’s curses. “Romano must have been confused about who the well was talking about! He thought the person that I lied to was him! But it wasn’t. The truth is that every time I told Veneziano I loved him, I was thinking of my Romanito. It’s true! I always was!”
France just gave the other man an annoyed look as he cleaned himself off.
“And you just figured this out?”
“I have to explain it to him!” Spain said desperately. “I have to make him understand that he’s the only one I love.”
“Ah, the art of wooing,” France sighed, regaining a bit of his good humor and stepping closer to Spain. His grin was one that meant trouble. “Allow me to show you how it’s done, Espagne. First, you must take him into your arms.” He demonstrated, of course, embracing Spain tightly while the other man only smiled back at him. “Then, look your love in the eyes and whisper gently that no one touches your heart the way he does. Tell him everything you love about him and what makes him incomparable to others. Ask him to forgive you and beg that you two shall never part again.” He stroked Spain’s cheek and reached up to push a lock of hair behind his ear. “And finally,” he finished, “lean in close and kiss him with all the passion your country’s famous for!”
With a well-practiced block, Spain put a hand up in front of France’s face to stop his enthusiastic attempt to demonstrate this part of the lesson as well. He laughed nervously, pushing his friend away with gentle force.
“S-sorry, France, but those lips only belong to Romano,” he told him. “And get your hand out of my pants!”
The Frenchman withdrew, sulking over the fact that he had been caught. Oh well. At least it had been worth a try…not to mention, good while it had lasted.
“You know what you have to do now,” France said, suppressing a sigh. “Go win back your love.”
“I will!” Spain replied brightly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll show him what the well really meant! Thanks for listening to me, Francia. And sorry about your shirt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” his friend replied. “Let me know how it goes, oui?”
“Of course!” the Spaniard said, making his way towards the door. “Hasta luego!”
And with that, he was gone, leaving France staring after him, their empty glasses sitting on his counter. A smirk drew itself upon the blonde’s face as he sadly cleaned up the remains of their short get-together.
“Good luck, mon ami,” he said quietly to himself. “Au revoir…the one I can never have.”
TBC...
I never caught up with him.
Spain didn’t protest as France fixed him another drink to refill his cup. He also failed to notice that sometime during his recollection, his belt had been unbuckled. He just sat at the counter of France’s built-in bar and thought to himself. And thought. And thought. And thought.
“I GET IT!” he burst suddenly, scaring France and making him spill the drink he had been preparing all over his new white shirt. The Spaniard ignored his friend’s curses. “Romano must have been confused about who the well was talking about! He thought the person that I lied to was him! But it wasn’t. The truth is that every time I told Veneziano I loved him, I was thinking of my Romanito. It’s true! I always was!”
France just gave the other man an annoyed look as he cleaned himself off.
“And you just figured this out?”
“I have to explain it to him!” Spain said desperately. “I have to make him understand that he’s the only one I love.”
“Ah, the art of wooing,” France sighed, regaining a bit of his good humor and stepping closer to Spain. His grin was one that meant trouble. “Allow me to show you how it’s done, Espagne. First, you must take him into your arms.” He demonstrated, of course, embracing Spain tightly while the other man only smiled back at him. “Then, look your love in the eyes and whisper gently that no one touches your heart the way he does. Tell him everything you love about him and what makes him incomparable to others. Ask him to forgive you and beg that you two shall never part again.” He stroked Spain’s cheek and reached up to push a lock of hair behind his ear. “And finally,” he finished, “lean in close and kiss him with all the passion your country’s famous for!”
With a well-practiced block, Spain put a hand up in front of France’s face to stop his enthusiastic attempt to demonstrate this part of the lesson as well. He laughed nervously, pushing his friend away with gentle force.
“S-sorry, France, but those lips only belong to Romano,” he told him. “And get your hand out of my pants!”
The Frenchman withdrew, sulking over the fact that he had been caught. Oh well. At least it had been worth a try…not to mention, good while it had lasted.
“You know what you have to do now,” France said, suppressing a sigh. “Go win back your love.”
“I will!” Spain replied brightly, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll show him what the well really meant! Thanks for listening to me, Francia. And sorry about your shirt.”
“Don’t worry about it,” his friend replied. “Let me know how it goes, oui?”
“Of course!” the Spaniard said, making his way towards the door. “Hasta luego!”
And with that, he was gone, leaving France staring after him, their empty glasses sitting on his counter. A smirk drew itself upon the blonde’s face as he sadly cleaned up the remains of their short get-together.
“Good luck, mon ami,” he said quietly to himself. “Au revoir…the one I can never have.”
TBC...
Hope you're enjoying this so far. Updates may be slow because I want to take my time and make this good! Plus, my summer break's almost over...TAT This fic's probably going to end up being pretty long. It really is a great concept, so thank you, OP for the request!
THAT SAID, am I the only one who feels sorry for France? XD; Unfortunately, this isn't going to be a very happy story for him, but he'll be back. Now I wonder who England's truth was referring to...hmm.
THAT SAID, am I the only one who feels sorry for France? XD; Unfortunately, this isn't going to be a very happy story for him, but he'll be back. Now I wonder who England's truth was referring to...hmm.
Denmark, Norway and Iceland are now uncles. :U
ohdoubledear.
ohdoubledear.
NOT PREVIOUS ANON
If to put authoranon at ease, we say it all the time in my household. :D
If to put authoranon at ease, we say it all the time in my household. :D
And Sealand's gone from being an only child to having a whole pile of adoptive older siblings. *laughs* This bit of history is a gift that keeps on giving.
This is silly. I'm sorry.
***
It was the third night in a row.
The third long, insufferable night in a row.
Germany lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the horrifically identifiable sounds from the next room.
He'd tried everything. Pounding on the wall sometimes made the sounds go away (only sometimes, mind) but they usually returned just as he was finally drifting off, jarring him back into the waking world. Burying his head under the pillow was about as effective as trying to stop a lorry with a hedgehog. Dragging his bedclothes to the bath and sleeping there did make the noises more tolerable, but he woke up in the morning with so many cricks in his back he could well have been mistaken for an accordion.
On the third morning Germany dragged himself out of bed, bleary eyed and not at all rested. It was still early, and the room next door was silent, but he had his schedule to keep to. He'd never get everything done if he didn't keep to it. And, of course, if he didn't get anything done, it was highly unlikely that anyone else would.
He slicked his hair back with none of his usual attentiveness. He cut himself shaving twice and his hands fumbled over his tie.
He emerged from his room yawning widely and intent on breakfast and at least three cups of coffee. Strong cups. Strong enough to stand a spoon in. Or strong enough to dissolve a spoon in. Either one.
"Good morning, Germany," said a very awake and lively voice.
"Is it?" said Germany, his ire already rising, which did not bode well for the rest of the day. His ire rose even further when he saw it was England coming out of the room next door. How England looked so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Germany would never know. He knew exactly how much sleep England hadn't got.
England shut his door carefully and quietly, provoking Germany to slam his door shut just out of spite. England didn't comment on it.
"Oh, Germany," he decided to comment instead, "You've got some..." he flapped a hand towards Germany's front, looking a little wary. "There's some toothpaste on your collar."
Germany glowered.
"Here, if you need it." England held out a tissue.
Germany glowered at it.
England faltered. "Are you quite well today?" He tucked the tissue back into his pocket.
Germany's response was to glower between his sluggish blinks.
"Ah, well," said England, as though Germany had given him an actual, acceptable response," I suppose I'll see you down there."
Germany was left pouring all of his drowsy hatred of the world onto the poor, beleaguered carpet. Then he realised he was supposed to have started breakfast six minutes ago, and he'd need all the time he could get if he was to drown himself in caffeine like he planned to. He cursed under his breath and drifted off towards the restaurant.
It would be wrong to say that Germany's day got worse from there, but it would hardly be true to say it got any better.
It was true to say that England was far more amiable than usual, even going so far as to help keep order rather than being the catalyst to chaos as could often happen. France had even, for a moment, taken to sulking at England's refusal to be goaded before he moved on to greener pastures.
Prussia, too, was much less disruptive. This was a great boon considering that he was able to disrupt things without even being in the same building.
However, these were just two lonely pros floating on a sea of cons.
The countries fought, bickered, argued, deviated, procrastinated, hindered and, possibly the most unforgivable of all, slept. He turned Italy into a shivering sack of tears for committing that last offence and got himself three earfuls worth from Romano (safely sequestered on the opposite side of the table as he was).
None of this - none of it - was helped by the fact that Prussia and England's nightly habits seemed to have become daily ones as well.
***
It was the third night in a row.
The third long, insufferable night in a row.
Germany lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the horrifically identifiable sounds from the next room.
He'd tried everything. Pounding on the wall sometimes made the sounds go away (only sometimes, mind) but they usually returned just as he was finally drifting off, jarring him back into the waking world. Burying his head under the pillow was about as effective as trying to stop a lorry with a hedgehog. Dragging his bedclothes to the bath and sleeping there did make the noises more tolerable, but he woke up in the morning with so many cricks in his back he could well have been mistaken for an accordion.
On the third morning Germany dragged himself out of bed, bleary eyed and not at all rested. It was still early, and the room next door was silent, but he had his schedule to keep to. He'd never get everything done if he didn't keep to it. And, of course, if he didn't get anything done, it was highly unlikely that anyone else would.
He slicked his hair back with none of his usual attentiveness. He cut himself shaving twice and his hands fumbled over his tie.
He emerged from his room yawning widely and intent on breakfast and at least three cups of coffee. Strong cups. Strong enough to stand a spoon in. Or strong enough to dissolve a spoon in. Either one.
"Good morning, Germany," said a very awake and lively voice.
"Is it?" said Germany, his ire already rising, which did not bode well for the rest of the day. His ire rose even further when he saw it was England coming out of the room next door. How England looked so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Germany would never know. He knew exactly how much sleep England hadn't got.
England shut his door carefully and quietly, provoking Germany to slam his door shut just out of spite. England didn't comment on it.
"Oh, Germany," he decided to comment instead, "You've got some..." he flapped a hand towards Germany's front, looking a little wary. "There's some toothpaste on your collar."
Germany glowered.
"Here, if you need it." England held out a tissue.
Germany glowered at it.
England faltered. "Are you quite well today?" He tucked the tissue back into his pocket.
Germany's response was to glower between his sluggish blinks.
"Ah, well," said England, as though Germany had given him an actual, acceptable response," I suppose I'll see you down there."
Germany was left pouring all of his drowsy hatred of the world onto the poor, beleaguered carpet. Then he realised he was supposed to have started breakfast six minutes ago, and he'd need all the time he could get if he was to drown himself in caffeine like he planned to. He cursed under his breath and drifted off towards the restaurant.
It would be wrong to say that Germany's day got worse from there, but it would hardly be true to say it got any better.
It was true to say that England was far more amiable than usual, even going so far as to help keep order rather than being the catalyst to chaos as could often happen. France had even, for a moment, taken to sulking at England's refusal to be goaded before he moved on to greener pastures.
Prussia, too, was much less disruptive. This was a great boon considering that he was able to disrupt things without even being in the same building.
However, these were just two lonely pros floating on a sea of cons.
The countries fought, bickered, argued, deviated, procrastinated, hindered and, possibly the most unforgivable of all, slept. He turned Italy into a shivering sack of tears for committing that last offence and got himself three earfuls worth from Romano (safely sequestered on the opposite side of the table as he was).
None of this - none of it - was helped by the fact that Prussia and England's nightly habits seemed to have become daily ones as well.
It was as though Germany had a natural knack for finding them. During the morning break – which had not been scheduled, but Germany was grateful for it as the gargantuan amounts of coffee caught up with him – he had, quite innocently, entered the nearest toilet.
“Oh fuck yes, right there!” had immediately assaulted his ears. He took in the rhythmic banging of the cubicle door, the fingers gripping the top of it (unhygienic; people never think to clean the tops of doors) and he turned and walked right back out. There were plenty of toilets in the building and he only had one brain; he wanted to keep it as unscarred as possible.
Thankfully, he saw nothing at lunchtime and, as such, kept his appetite. He did, however, hear America's “Ewww, gross! What the hell is that?” and saw England's back stiffen as he quickly made for the exit.
Germany supposed he should be thankful that Prussia, at least, was nowhere in sight.
The second time he walked in on them he really should have expected it. It was just that playing pranks was far from unheard of (despite the average age being somewhere around half a millennium) and so countries getting locked in the store cupboard was hardly a rare occurrence. He later blamed his lack of sleep that this was the first scenario he thought of when he came across the rhythmically thumping door.
“Oh, hey, West,” was all Prussia saw fit to say upon being revealed.
Germany's brain stuttered to a halt. On some level he was impressed at the efficiency of space they had, squeezing in between the shelves like that. Every other level he had was too busy trying to process the fact that he was standing, watching his partially-clothed brother being roughly fucked.
It was England that saved him.
“If you'll excuse us,” he said as he yanked the door out of Germany's unresponsive hand and shut it again.
“Of course,” said Germany, still in a daze and nodding at the wood-effect door.
He wandered away, trying to focus himself again, but every time he fixed his mind on something safe, like unemployment levels, bare skin, flexing muscles and breathless pants snuck their way in. There hadn't even been that much bare skin. Not that his imagination would listen to him.
“Allemagne?”
Germany wandered to a halt.
“Are you all right?” asked France, “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
“Worse,” said Germany, then he wandered on, leaving a very bewildered France behind him. Now was definitely a good time for a beer.
He saw France later that evening looking very pleased with himself, even despite the black eye.
Germany returned to his room directly after dinner, thinking that if he got to bed early, he'd get at least a few hour's uninterrupted sleep. That thought sustained him to his door, which he opened with minimal fumbling. He then staggered into his room to find that the bed was occupied and very much in use.
He staggered out of the room and checked the number on the door.
He staggered back in.
“What are you doing on my bed?!” he bellowed.
The two offenders promptly fell off the bed in a flurry of curses.
“I thought you said he'd be out for hours!” came the desperate whispers from behind the bed.
“I'm not a fucking mindreader, am I?”
“'There's no way he'll get back before eight!' you said. 'We'll have hours!' you said.”
“Oh my god, I think I bent my dick, does my dick look bent?”
“No more than usu--”
Germany cleared his throat.
England's head was the first to pop up. “Germany!” he said with forced cheeriness, “We didn't expect to see you back here so soon!” He stood up, pulling the duvet off the bed as he went and wrapping it round himself.
“What are you doing here?” said Germany through gritted teeth.
“Can't you tell?” was Prussia's witty remark. “I know you're inexperienced, West, but really.”
“Shut up, Prussia,” said England, eyeing the shade of Germany's skin.
Prussia did not shut up. “Especially with your collection of--”
England shifted.
“Ow.” Prussia scowled up at him. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Oh fuck yes, right there!” had immediately assaulted his ears. He took in the rhythmic banging of the cubicle door, the fingers gripping the top of it (unhygienic; people never think to clean the tops of doors) and he turned and walked right back out. There were plenty of toilets in the building and he only had one brain; he wanted to keep it as unscarred as possible.
Thankfully, he saw nothing at lunchtime and, as such, kept his appetite. He did, however, hear America's “Ewww, gross! What the hell is that?” and saw England's back stiffen as he quickly made for the exit.
Germany supposed he should be thankful that Prussia, at least, was nowhere in sight.
The second time he walked in on them he really should have expected it. It was just that playing pranks was far from unheard of (despite the average age being somewhere around half a millennium) and so countries getting locked in the store cupboard was hardly a rare occurrence. He later blamed his lack of sleep that this was the first scenario he thought of when he came across the rhythmically thumping door.
“Oh, hey, West,” was all Prussia saw fit to say upon being revealed.
Germany's brain stuttered to a halt. On some level he was impressed at the efficiency of space they had, squeezing in between the shelves like that. Every other level he had was too busy trying to process the fact that he was standing, watching his partially-clothed brother being roughly fucked.
It was England that saved him.
“If you'll excuse us,” he said as he yanked the door out of Germany's unresponsive hand and shut it again.
“Of course,” said Germany, still in a daze and nodding at the wood-effect door.
He wandered away, trying to focus himself again, but every time he fixed his mind on something safe, like unemployment levels, bare skin, flexing muscles and breathless pants snuck their way in. There hadn't even been that much bare skin. Not that his imagination would listen to him.
“Allemagne?”
Germany wandered to a halt.
“Are you all right?” asked France, “You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
“Worse,” said Germany, then he wandered on, leaving a very bewildered France behind him. Now was definitely a good time for a beer.
He saw France later that evening looking very pleased with himself, even despite the black eye.
Germany returned to his room directly after dinner, thinking that if he got to bed early, he'd get at least a few hour's uninterrupted sleep. That thought sustained him to his door, which he opened with minimal fumbling. He then staggered into his room to find that the bed was occupied and very much in use.
He staggered out of the room and checked the number on the door.
He staggered back in.
“What are you doing on my bed?!” he bellowed.
The two offenders promptly fell off the bed in a flurry of curses.
“I thought you said he'd be out for hours!” came the desperate whispers from behind the bed.
“I'm not a fucking mindreader, am I?”
“'There's no way he'll get back before eight!' you said. 'We'll have hours!' you said.”
“Oh my god, I think I bent my dick, does my dick look bent?”
“No more than usu--”
Germany cleared his throat.
England's head was the first to pop up. “Germany!” he said with forced cheeriness, “We didn't expect to see you back here so soon!” He stood up, pulling the duvet off the bed as he went and wrapping it round himself.
“What are you doing here?” said Germany through gritted teeth.
“Can't you tell?” was Prussia's witty remark. “I know you're inexperienced, West, but really.”
“Shut up, Prussia,” said England, eyeing the shade of Germany's skin.
Prussia did not shut up. “Especially with your collection of--”
England shifted.
“Ow.” Prussia scowled up at him. “What the fuck was that for?”
Speaking of Alaska, there's some potentially squicky implications there.
England moved out from behind the bed hesitantly. “Good gracious me,” he said, “Look at the time! I think we ought to get going.”
“So you can go next door and start up again?” asked Germany, by now on the verge of a meltdown. He stormed over to an alarmed England and grabbed him by the duvet. “I just want a good night's sleep!”
“We'll be... quiet?” said England carefully.
“No!” cried Germany, “Go to your own room! Stop. Using. Prussia's.” he gave England a shake with every word.
“My room is next door to France's,” England spat, pushing Germany off.
“So?”
“He'll probably have drilled a hole through the wall and set up a camera!”
“That's ridiculous!” Germany pointed out.
“It's France!” England rebutted.
“Why do you always end up next to France, anyway?” asked Prussia, forever on the pulse of relevant conversation topics.
England sighed. “It's some great geographical joke that has been played on me since he first set foot upon my shores,” he declared.
There was silence as everyone let that sink in (and Germany tried to work out how to get them back on topic).
Prussia was the first to speak up, “And by 'set foot on your shores' you mean--”
“Oh shut up, that didn't even sound like a euphemism,” England snapped back.
“Why Prussia?” Germany pleaded, trying to get England to see the light. The light that said fucking Prussia at every available turn was a terrible idea because it left Germany sleep-deprived. “Do you even like him?”
England seemed to genuinely think it over. “I like his stamina,” he offered.
“And my gigantic dick!” was Prussia's contribution.
Germany and England both stared at him.
“And you wonder why I bring a gag with me,” said England flatly.
Prussia grinned. “That's because you're a kinky bastard.”
The staring continued.
“Quite,” said England. “Now, we really should get going.”
“No.” Germany held a hand up. “You... you may as well stay.” It nearly brought tears to his eyes to say it. “I don't think I can sleep in that bed now.”
Germany turned and headed back towards the door, mind slowly turning through any and all places he could possibly sleep. He left the room, catching Prussia's last, “Hey, we haven't done it in the shower yet!” before he shut the door once and for all.
He leant against the door and then slid down it, face in his hands. Perhaps he could just sleep here. Yes, he'd curl up in a ball and sleep right here, that would surely give him at least an hour?
“Germania! Oh, there you are!” It was Italy, sounding as enthusiastic and bouncy as ever.
Germany nearly cried.
“You left so early! Is something wrong?” Italy knelt down beside him.
“I can't sleep!” Germany lamented.
“What is it?” Italy stared deeply into Germany's bloodshot eyes, looking so earnest.
“The noises,” was Germany's lacklustre explanation.
“Is it your room?”
Germany nodded pitifully.
“Why didn't you say?” Italy suddenly brightened. “You can use mine!”
“Really?” Germany asked, his hope for some real, proper sleep renewed.
“Of course!” Italy tried his best to haul Germany's bulk up, but in the end it was Germany's legs that did most of the work.
Italy slung Germany's arm over his shoulder, glad to be the support for once. Germany just stumbled along in a daze of pre-sleep bliss. England, Prussia and their shared talent with rabbit-kind were, at long last, the furthest thing from his mind.
“So you can go next door and start up again?” asked Germany, by now on the verge of a meltdown. He stormed over to an alarmed England and grabbed him by the duvet. “I just want a good night's sleep!”
“We'll be... quiet?” said England carefully.
“No!” cried Germany, “Go to your own room! Stop. Using. Prussia's.” he gave England a shake with every word.
“My room is next door to France's,” England spat, pushing Germany off.
“So?”
“He'll probably have drilled a hole through the wall and set up a camera!”
“That's ridiculous!” Germany pointed out.
“It's France!” England rebutted.
“Why do you always end up next to France, anyway?” asked Prussia, forever on the pulse of relevant conversation topics.
England sighed. “It's some great geographical joke that has been played on me since he first set foot upon my shores,” he declared.
There was silence as everyone let that sink in (and Germany tried to work out how to get them back on topic).
Prussia was the first to speak up, “And by 'set foot on your shores' you mean--”
“Oh shut up, that didn't even sound like a euphemism,” England snapped back.
“Why Prussia?” Germany pleaded, trying to get England to see the light. The light that said fucking Prussia at every available turn was a terrible idea because it left Germany sleep-deprived. “Do you even like him?”
England seemed to genuinely think it over. “I like his stamina,” he offered.
“And my gigantic dick!” was Prussia's contribution.
Germany and England both stared at him.
“And you wonder why I bring a gag with me,” said England flatly.
Prussia grinned. “That's because you're a kinky bastard.”
The staring continued.
“Quite,” said England. “Now, we really should get going.”
“No.” Germany held a hand up. “You... you may as well stay.” It nearly brought tears to his eyes to say it. “I don't think I can sleep in that bed now.”
Germany turned and headed back towards the door, mind slowly turning through any and all places he could possibly sleep. He left the room, catching Prussia's last, “Hey, we haven't done it in the shower yet!” before he shut the door once and for all.
He leant against the door and then slid down it, face in his hands. Perhaps he could just sleep here. Yes, he'd curl up in a ball and sleep right here, that would surely give him at least an hour?
“Germania! Oh, there you are!” It was Italy, sounding as enthusiastic and bouncy as ever.
Germany nearly cried.
“You left so early! Is something wrong?” Italy knelt down beside him.
“I can't sleep!” Germany lamented.
“What is it?” Italy stared deeply into Germany's bloodshot eyes, looking so earnest.
“The noises,” was Germany's lacklustre explanation.
“Is it your room?”
Germany nodded pitifully.
“Why didn't you say?” Italy suddenly brightened. “You can use mine!”
“Really?” Germany asked, his hope for some real, proper sleep renewed.
“Of course!” Italy tried his best to haul Germany's bulk up, but in the end it was Germany's legs that did most of the work.
Italy slung Germany's arm over his shoulder, glad to be the support for once. Germany just stumbled along in a daze of pre-sleep bliss. England, Prussia and their shared talent with rabbit-kind were, at long last, the furthest thing from his mind.
fhlsdfhjsk thank you so much, author!anon! ;~; I was really worried that this would never get filled. And it's looking great so far, I definitely hope to see more!
I am in loveeeee~ I actually didn't expect for those photos to be the Nordics and Al. And I love how nervous Sweden was when the questions where asked! I give you another two internets, and my future firstborn as well~! Can't wait for the next part!
Heh, poor guy. As someone who's had more than their share of trouble sleeping, he has my sympathies.
Eep OP you are awesome and I love comments and especially detailed comments and please continue to stalk and lrg[bhqrgo;a’ba SQUEE HERE HAVE SOME CRAPPY SKETCHES
Prussia: http://tinypic.com/r/2412o9k/4
Why yes that is a tattoo of the Prussian eagle, what?
Poland: http://tinypic.com/r/2pq6yjd/4
Feliks is totally ready to take on Rocky Horror. Hey dude, just FYI, your tank top? It’s kinda see-through.
America: http://tinypic.com/r/33mn9rn/4
He has tattoos of whales. Very cute whales. Gil totally attempted to put an Iron Cross on his skateboard, too.
Ahahah I love Belarus. What a fierce bitch. And France - can I keep one in my closet, please? I'll take care of him, promise.
Question though - anyone in particular you'd like to see together? I should know before people start hooking up all over the place. O.o
Prussia: http://tinypic.com/r/2412o9k/4
Why yes that is a tattoo of the Prussian eagle, what?
Poland: http://tinypic.com/r/2pq6yjd/4
Feliks is totally ready to take on Rocky Horror. Hey dude, just FYI, your tank top? It’s kinda see-through.
America: http://tinypic.com/r/33mn9rn/4
He has tattoos of whales. Very cute whales. Gil totally attempted to put an Iron Cross on his skateboard, too.
Question though - anyone in particular you'd like to see together? I should know before people start hooking up all over the place. O.o
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