Chapter Text
Germany and Prussia were not usually the sort to get into physical fights with other people… at least not anymore. The past had been an entirely different matter. Back then, violence was often used to assert dominance, settle disputes, or prove a point. In modern times, however, such things were unnecessary. Arguments could be resolved with words rather than raised fists and bloodied knuckles.
Besides, they had morals.
And while Germany and Prussia rarely fought these days, they especially never fought each other. Neither could remember the last time a genuine altercation between them had been anything more than harmless sparring or training… never anything born of real anger. They were brothers, after all. What kind of person would willingly raise a hand against their own family?
Well… apparently, they would.
Because despite their morals and the years they had spent leaving such behavior behind them, the German brothers had somehow found themselves in a vicious brawl that accomplished far more harm than good. Then again, fights rarely accomplished anything worthwhile.
The most ridiculous part was that it had started over something that, while not entirely insignificant, certainly wasn't worth trading punches over.
Prussia and Germany had been spending their vacation with their Italian lovers at the brothers' shared home in central Italy. It wasn't an official holiday, merely two weeks they had managed to carve out for themselves, reluctantly approved by their boss and devoted entirely to the people they loved.
They saw the Italian brothers often enough during world meetings and international celebrations, but it never felt like enough. So every so often, one side would grow tired of the distance and make the journey to visit the other. Sometimes the Italians traveled north to Germany; other times, the Germans headed south to Italy.
This time, it had been the Germans' turn.
The vacation had begun pleasantly enough. The couples spent their days exploring the town, enjoying meals together, and browsing the local shops. Most days, Germany and Veneziano went their own way while Romano and Prussia did the same. But whenever Veneziano and Prussia managed to wear down their partners with enough pleading, Germany and Romano would begrudgingly agree to a double date.
Everything had been going well.
Then, on one otherwise ordinary afternoon, that pleasant vacation came to an abrupt halt when the German brothers found themselves in a dispute...
Prussia had wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water and found Germany already there, leaning against the counter with his attention fixed on his phone. The eastern nation gave him a brief nod before turning to the cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of still water, poured himself a glass, and took a long drink. As he did, his gaze drifted back to his brother.
Germany looked far too focused for someone who was supposed to be on vacation, his eyes locked on the screen as though whatever he was reading demanded his full attention. Prussia frowned slightly but kept his thoughts to himself for the moment.
After finishing his drink, he rinsed the glass and set it on the drying rack. “What's got your attention like that?” he asked at last.
Germany blinked and looked up, faint surprise crossing his face. "Ah, sorry. I didn't even notice you come in…" he admitted. Almost immediately, though, his attention drifted back to the phone in his hand.
Prussia stared at him for a moment. "Aha. Okay." he replied dryly. Curiosity, however, soon got the better of him. He stepped closer and glanced over the blond's shoulder at the screen. It only took him a second to recognize the familiar layout of an email inbox.
Prussia raised an eyebrow. "You make a reservation or something for you and little Italy?" he asked. It was the only reason he could think of for someone to be staring at their emails so intently while on holiday.
Germany, however, shook his head. "No, it's just... look." With that, he turned his phone toward his older sibling and opened one of the messages.
Prussia leaned in to read it properly, but the moment he recognized the sender, his expression instantly soured. Without warning, he shoved the phone away.
"Hey!" Germany jerked back, barely managing to catch the device before it slipped from his hand. "What was that for? You almost made me drop my phone!"
The eastern nation sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Bruder," he said, shaking his head in obvious displeasure, "why the hell are you checking work emails when you're supposed to be on vacation?"
The email Germany had shown him was from their boss, sent simply to keep the brothers informed about their nation while they were away. It outlined several recent issues that had surfaced and would need attention in the near future, though not necessarily from them personally. The state officials were more than capable of handling everything on their own, and their boss was fully aware that both nations were currently on leave.
Still, the message ended with a brief note stating that if either of them felt inclined to spend part of their vacation working, they were more than welcome to lend a hand.
At the question, Germany tilted his head, confused by the criticism. "I always check work emails," he replied, his voice just as puzzled as his expression. "Especially if they're directly from our boss, whether I'm on leave or not." He paused for a second before giving his brother an odd look, then added in a skeptical tone, "Why are you acting like you don't do the same thing?"
Prussia huffed. "Well, duh. Of course I do. It's practical." He stretched out the next word dramatically. "Buuuut..."
The younger German blinked. "But?"
"Let's remember where we are right now," Prussia said, gesturing around the kitchen. "And, more importantly, who we're staying with." He pointed a finger at his brother for emphasis. "Little Italy and older Italy do not like it when we work during visits. At all. Do you not remember what happened the last time we spent a vacation with them and decided to do anything work-related?"
Prussia certainly remembered.
Romano had been furious with him. Not loudly furious, either… which somehow made it worse. After catching Prussia trying to get some work done during the brothers' visit, the Italian had spent the rest of the day refusing to speak to him. When he finally broke his silence, it was only to inform Prussia that if he touched his laptop one more time, he would personally throw it off the balcony.
Veneziano's reaction toward Germany had been similar, though far less angry and far more disappointing to endure. Whenever Germany opened his laptop or checked his work emails, the younger Italian would visibly deflate. That alone had been enough to convince the blond to leave the device alone for the remainder of the trip.
The memory made the red-eyed nation wince. "Seriously, that's not something we need to repeat." A moment later, his expression brightened, and he nudged Germany lightly with his elbow. "Or did you forget?" he asked teasingly.
The younger German studied his brother for a moment, a conflicted look crossing his face as he considered the other man’s argument. After a brief pause, he finally replied, "I did not."
"Then, alright—" Prussia began, believing the discussion had come to an end, only for his sibling to cut him off before he could finish.
"But Italy and Romano are not in this room at the moment."
The Prussian paused at those words. Surprise flickered across his face for a brief moment before melting into a disapproving look. He leveled his brother with an unimpressed stare. “Okayyyy…” he drawled. “That is a terrible way to think.”
Germany opened his mouth to respond, but Prussia continued instead.
“One of them… or both of them, could walk in here at any minute. And if they catch you scrolling through work emails, they’re going to be unhappy with not only you, but me too!” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “I cannot have Romano wanting to bite my head off for something I didn’t even do. Do you know how unfair that is?”
Despite the very convincing argument Prussia had offered his brother, the western nation wore an unconvinced expression, not persuaded in the slightest. So Prussia pressed on, resorting to the one argument he knew would actually get through to him.
“Plus, I know you wouldn’t want Veneziano standing there looking all disappointed either, going—” He cleared his throat and abruptly straightened, pressing his hands to his chest in an exaggerated imitation. “Oh, Germany!” he cried in a high, overly sweet voice. “How could you do something like that? You promised me you wouldn’t spend time meant for me on work! I’m so, so, so disappointed in you!”
Prussia immediately broke into laughter at his own performance, but Germany, meanwhile, looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Okay, first of all,” he began flatly, “Italy does not sound like that.”
The older man snorted. "He kind of does."
"No, he doesn't."
"He totally does!"
"No!" Germany protested. "He speaks far more... sophisticatedly than whatever that was!"
“Whatever you say, West!” Prussia waved a dismissive hand, though it was clear he remained entirely convinced that his portrayal of Northern Italy had been flawless, a belief that only deepened the blond’s unimpressed expression.
“Anyway…” Germany sighed after a moment, steering the conversation away from Italy, deciding that arguing with his brother over the quality of the Prussian’s Veneziano impersonation wasn’t worth the effort. “Second of all, look at this email.” Before Prussia could respond, the younger German thrust his phone into his field of vision.
“Ah…! No, no, nope!” Prussia blurted the moment the device came near him. He jerked back at once, throwing up his hands as though Germany had nearly handed him a bomb. With his eyes squeezed shut, he shook his head. “I am not breaking my promise to older Italy!”
Germany frowned at his brother's childish behavior. “Just look at it!” he insisted, pushing the phone closer so Prussia could read the email.
Prussia, however, remained fully committed to not looking. “No, West! You may have failed as a loyal, promise-keeping boyfriend, but the awesome me shall not!” he declared, turning his face away.
That only made Germany more irritated, but seeing that the other man wasn't going to look, he let out a long, weary sigh and lowered the phone slightly. “It's about both West and East Germany, Bruder.” he said, deciding it would be easier to just tell him.
“I am not listening to a single thing you're saying!” the red-eyed man shot back immediately, remaining completely committed to keeping his promise not to do any work while visiting the two halves of Italy.
The blond simply ignored him and continued. “Bruder, a major railway line connecting our eastern and western territories has become caught in a dispute over delayed funding. We still haven’t received our full share of European funds, leaving us unable to properly finance the project.”
“Not listening!” Prussia declared, slapping his hands over his ears and shaking his head vigorously.
“Prussia!” Germany snapped, frowning. “This is serious! This railway dispute won't be the only consequence of these funding delays. Commerce could be disrupted, other projects could stall, and a number of officials will be furious! We need to contact the European Commission immediately! If we can secure the release of those funds soon, we may still be able to resolve the situation before it escalates and causes further complications.”
The blond’s expression was serious, and so was his tone. That, more than anything, seemed to be what finally convinced Prussia to lower his hands from his ears and actually look at him. Unfortunately, his expression suggested he was thinking about anything except the railway crisis or European funding delays.
“Alright...” he began, stepping closer and letting out a resigned sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. I understand why you’re freaking out about this. It’s a real crappy situation. And honestly, part of me wants to open my emails right now and start drafting a message to some European Commission executive. However...”
Germany raised an eyebrow, not having expected the contradiction. “However?”
“However,” Prussia repeated, folding his arms, “since I actually respect the Italy brothers’ wishes, I’m not going to do any of that.” He lifted his chin slightly. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for the entire two weeks I’m staying in Italy.”
He struck a dramatic pose, pressing a hand to his chest like a self-proclaimed knight. “I made an oath!” he declared. “And the awesome me does not break his word!” A satisfied grin followed, as though that alone settled the matter.
Germany stared at him for a long moment before a conflicted look crossed his face. “So... nothing? You're genuinely going to do nothing?” He sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I don't want to break my word to Italy either... erm, both Italies. But...” His expression hardened. “Bruder, you, of all people, should understand that sometimes certain responsibilities have to come first, regardless of whatever promises or oaths were made.”
The Prussian frowned almost instantly at those words. “No. Not in this case.” he replied without hesitation. “Right now, my biggest concern is South’s well-being, then North’s, and only after that comes work.”
To emphasize his point, he raised both hands, one noticeably higher than the other, leaving a clear gap between them. “As you can see,” he said pointedly, “there’s a very clear difference.” Then he jabbed a finger toward his younger sibling. “Your priorities should look like this too. Not the other way around.”
“Italy is my main priority, so don’t even suggest I’d choose work over him!” Germany shot back immediately, swatting Prussia’s hands aside, brows tightly drawn.
Prussia let out an amused huff. “You’re kind of contradicting yourself there.”
The blue-eyed nation shook his head furiously. “No—! That’s not what I meant! I chose my words poorly!” He ran a hand down his face before continuing. “Italy is my priority, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can abandon every other responsibility.” He let out a weary sigh. “If I drop everything whenever emotions are involved, I’ll fail my duties… and the people who depend on me as their nation.”
The white-haired man, however, looked awfully unconvinced by that statement. If anything, his expression only grew more skeptical. “So you'd rather let little Italy down than some officials?” he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.
“Huh?! What?!” Germany stared at him in disbelief. “How did you get that from what I just said? No, of course not! That’s not what I mea—”
Though, before he could finish, Prussia suddenly stepped forward. “Alright then, that settles it!” he said, and Germany barely had time to register the words before Prussia snatched the phone straight from his hand.
“Hey! What the hell?!” Germany lunged for it, but Prussia had already stepped out of reach.
Grinning, he switched the device off and tossed it lightly in his palm. “Nope. You're not doing any work for the next two weeks. Got it?” He pointed the phone at Germany. “You said it yourself… little Italy is your number one priority. So start acting like it.”
Germany opened his mouth to protest, but Prussia cut him off before he could get a word out. “No work.” he repeated firmly. “Not while you're in Italy.”
The younger German’s expression darkened at his brother’s infuriating behavior. “I am keeping my word to him…” he muttered. “It’s not as though I’m planning to work right in front of him.”
At that, the Prussian visibly winced. “Do you realize how that sounds?” he asked, tilting his head in disbelief. “You’re basically saying what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Germany blinked, genuinely baffled by how his brother had reached that conclusion.
“What? No! Gott, Prussia!” he snapped. “What part of what I said even gave you that idea?” He let out a deep sigh. “I told him I wouldn’t work when we’re actually spending time together. When we’re together, I’m not going to sit there with my laptop writing declarations or checking reports.”
“But if Italy is busy with something else and I’m not with him, I might check an email or two. Maybe send one. Just to stay informed about what’s happening in our country, what our officials need from me. That doesn’t mean I’m breaking my promise to him. It just means I’m using my time properly when he isn’t around and still fulfilling my responsibilities as a nation.”
It was a convincing argument… good, even. For a moment, Prussia almost looked persuaded, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows as he considered the blond’s words. Then, just as quickly, it was gone!
He shook his head, fixing the other man with a look that made it clear he wasn’t on board with what had just been said. “Yeah, no. If there’s one thing I learned serving the Catholic Church back in the 1200s, it’s that when you give your word, you keep it properly.” He clicked his tongue. “And I taught you that too, by the way. That excuse is awful. Exactly the kind of behind-your-back reasoning the Pope warned me about. Real poor way of keeping your word, West. Disappointing.”
Germany’s jaw tightened, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “It is not a poor way of keeping my word if I am still keeping it. What I am saying is perfectly logical. You are drawing completely unreasonable conclusions.” he replied dryly.
“No, no, absolutely not! I am speaking the complete truth!” Prussia shot back.
Germany rolled his eyes and reached for his phone again, but the eastern nation shifted just out of reach before he could even touch it.
“Stop doing that. Just give me my phone back.” Germany said, irritation creeping into his voice as he tried again… only for Prussia to step back further.
“No.” The white-haired nation’s expression turned uncharacteristically serious. “Not until you tell me you’re not going back to checking your email inbox.”
“But the funds and negotiations—”
“West, two weeks away from all this won’t kill anyone. Our officials can handle the railway dispute without us.” Prussia cut in with a firm nod. “And besides, pushing through delayed European Commission funding or sorting out railway budgets isn’t something you fix in one email and call it done. There are follow-ups… paperwork stacked to the ceiling.”
He hummed thoughtfully, then jabbed a finger toward his younger brother. “And knowing you, you’ll get dragged right into that crap, and little Italy will end up disappointed!”
His voice eased slightly, and he let out a small sigh. “Come on. Our boss and the officials can manage without us hovering over them. And if they can’t, we’ll deal with it later. No tragedy either way. But only after we leave the Italies’ house, understood?”
He flashed Germany a broad, satisfied grin, as though the decision was already final. “You’re supposed to be on vacation anyway. So loosen up! Relax! Stop burying your head in work for once, and stick it in the clouds instead!”
Germany looked at Prussia, conflict flickering plainly across his expression. Part of him understood exactly what his brother meant… and the other part didn’t agree with it at all. It was… complicated.
A small huff escaped him as he straightened. He held out his hand, motioning expectantly for the phone still in Prussia’s possession to be returned to its rightful owner. “The expression is ‘keep your head out of the clouds.’ Now… my phone.” he said flatly.
Prussia let out a long, exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “Uhhh, West… you’re seriously starting to piss me off.”
The younger German only rolled his eyes in return. “The same could easily be said about you. Now, hand it back.” He punctuated the demand with an impatient flick of his outstretched hand.
Prussia, however, made no move to comply. Instead, he studied his brother with open suspicion, a faint hum rising in his throat.
“Why?” he asked, casually tossing the phone from one hand to the other as if it were nothing more than a ball. The motion made Germany stiffen, his eyes tracking it like it might slip free at any second and shatter against the floor. It didn’t… but only just! “So you can go right back to doing the exact opposite of unwinding and relaxing?” Prussia tilted his head, red eyes narrowing.
“Yes. Exactly.” Germany answered after a slow exhale. “If you'd rather ‘unwind and relax’ than help me with this,” he added, punctuating the phrase with pointed air quotes, “then by all means, do so. But while Italy is with Romano and the two of them are occupied, I intend to make use of the time.”
The older German scoffed as though the suggestion offended him on principle. “No. That's not happening. Or rather... not here. You've got the rest of your workdays to bury yourself in that nonsense. Do it somewhere outside Italy.”
Germany frowned. “Bruder, you're being irrational.” He stepped forward and reached for his phone again, but Prussia immediately lifted it out of reach, holding it high above his head.
“Come on, West. Can't you give it a rest for two weeks? Two short weeks?”
“You do realize I'm taller than you, Dummkopf,” (Dumbass) Germany replied, entirely unfazed as he reached for the device once more. “This isn't going to work.”
Eventually, he managed to get a grip on the phone and pull it closer… only for Prussia to refuse to let go. His fingers tightened stubbornly around it, turning the exchange into a brief, ridiculous tug-of-war.
“West, come on! Try to relax for once in your life! For Italy’s sake… and yours!” the white-haired man ground out through clenched teeth.
“What is your problem with relaxing?!” Germany shot back, straining against him. “Prussia, you are being childish!”
“You are the one being childish!” Prussia snapped, yanking the phone hard in the opposite direction.
Now… the western nation could have easily continued their little tug-of-war. It wasn’t as though he lacked the strength to wrench the phone from his brother’s grasp. Yet a sudden thought made him reconsider that course of action, a faint look of displeasure crossing his face. This was his phone they were fighting over. If they kept yanking it back and forth like this, the device would end up cracked… or worse, snapped clean in half… and that was the last thing he needed right now!
After a brief, reluctant moment of consideration, Germany arrived at a bitter conclusion. Ugh... fine. For the phone's sake, he would let Prussia keep it for now and retrieve it later. Damn Prussia.
With an irritated exhale, he finally relented. "Fine! Keep the damn phone!" he snapped, releasing his grip on it.
In theory, everything should have ended there; Prussia would simply be left holding the phone. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things played out…
Still convinced Germany was resisting him and not expecting him to let go, Prussia yanked the phone toward himself with full force at the exact moment Germany released it. The sudden lack of resistance sent the device flying forward, straight into Prussia’s face with an unceremonious smack.
“Argh—!” he let out a strangled groan at the impact, stumbling back and clapping a hand to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “What the fuck… West…”
Germany, having just witnessed the entire frankly absurd sequence of events, could only blink in stunned silence for a moment. Then he shook his head, and concern quickly replaced his confusion as he stepped forward.
"Prussia... are you alright?" he asked, worry evident in his voice.
He certainly hadn’t meant for his brother to get hurt by a phone of all things. He had only let go of the device to keep it from breaking, never expecting Prussia to yank it back with that much force… at the exact same moment. The odds of that happening should have been low. Apparently, though, they hadn’t been low enough.
The older German scoffed, rubbing his forehead where the phone had struck him. Honestly, judging by how much that had hurt, Germany's phone might as well have been made of solid brick! "What do you think?!" he snapped, shooting his brother an irritated glare.
Well, no wonder he was angry. Still, Germany couldn't place all the blame on himself. Prussia had been provoking him from the very beginning, stubbornly refusing to return the phone despite repeated demands. Really, if one thought about it, his brother had brought this upon himself. These were simply the consequences of his own actions.
As a result, rather than trying to soothe his brother, Germany felt irritation begin to creep into his expression. His brows drew together as he looked down at the white-haired nation. “Don’t yell at me,” he scolded. “This happened because you refused to return my phone when I asked.”
At his words, Prussia dropped his hand from his face and narrowed his eyes, locking onto his brother with one of the most furious glares he had given him in a long time.
“No!” he snapped, far more heated than the situation really warranted, jabbing a finger in Germany’s direction. “This happened because you didn’t listen to me!”
“I didn’t listen to you?” the blond repeated, disbelief cutting through his tone. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“Yes!” Prussia shot back without hesitation. “I told you to stop working for two weeks. Two weeks! Not for me… for little Italy! You gave him your word you wouldn’t be buried in work while visiting him, and you went right ahead and broke it! You didn’t listen to me, even though I am right! You should be grateful I’m even trying to preserve your dignity!”
Germany let out a short, humorless breath. “My dignity… right.” His expression tightened as he clicked his tongue. “You didn’t listen to me either, you know. I was very clear. If I work while Italy isn’t present, it doesn’t break any promise. Therefore, it doesn’t affect my… ‘dignity’. It’s reasonable and it makes sense!”
Prussia scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Reasonable, my ass…”
By this point, Germany was beginning to grow uncharacteristically upset with his brother, though he did his best… truly his best… to keep it contained. He drew in a slow breath, then let it out, calming himself.
“Whatever,” he said at last, his voice clearly held back from sounding too irritated. “There’s no point in continuing this. We see things differently, and this is becoming tiresome.” He paused, then held out his hand expectantly. “Now, if you would please return my phone, we can both get on with our day.”
At those words, the red-eyed man shot Germany a cold, frustrated look as a short, irritated sigh slipped out of him. He shoved the phone back, not quite bothering to hand it over properly… practically forcing it into Germany’s grip. “Take it.” he muttered, clearly annoyed.
Germany stumbled slightly to avoid dropping it, quickly tightening his hold on the device. Irritation flickered through him at his brother’s behavior, though that wasn’t the worst of Prussia’s attitude.
As he turned away, Prussia tossed over his shoulder in a bitter tone, "God, you're such a shitty boyfriend sometimes. You always put work first, and one day Italy's gonna get tired of it and leave you, and then you'll be all—"
Though... he didn't get to finish the thought. A sudden surge of anger erupted in Germany's chest at those words, far worse than the irritation he'd been struggling to contain throughout the exchange.
Leave him? He thought to himself. Italy, leave him? How could Prussia even suggest something like that? And to imply he was putting work over his lover… what the hell? Hadn’t Germany already made it clear that wasn’t true? Hadn’t he already given a logical, reasonable explanation to support it? Had his brother really failed to understand a single word he’d said?
His face twisted with fury as his hands curled into fists at his sides. For a moment, all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and his sibling's insulting words: "Tired of it and leave you." They echoed through his mind, fueling his anger further. And that was what finally made him—someone who wasn't usually impulsive—snap.
“You… you take that back!” he yelled, moving forward without even thinking. And just as quickly, one of his clenched fists shot out before he could stop himself, connecting squarely with Prussia’s face. The impact snapped the Prussian’s head to the side, cutting off his sentence mid-breath. He stumbled back with a rough sound of pain, a curse slipping out as he caught himself.
For a moment afterward, everything went silent in Germany’s mind. He exhaled sharply, trying to regain control of himself, and when he finally did… it hit him that… oh God. He’d just punched his brother…!
All the anger he’d felt drained away almost instantly, leaving only guilt and worry in its place. “Prussia!” he exclaimed, panic clear in his voice. “Prussia… God, I’m—I am so sorry! I didn’t—I shouldn’t have—” He hurried toward his older sibling in a frantic rush, while Prussia brought a hand up to his face where he’d been hit, wincing as he touched the spot.
“Are you… alright?” the western man asked anxiously, hovering over him. “I… I don’t know what came over me!” His voice tightened with regret as he shook his head. “I’m truly sorry, Bruder! It’s just… what you said was extremely insulting…”
His words, however, trailed off on the last syllable… and not because he chose to stop speaking, but because he hadn’t been given the chance to finish. Prussia suddenly looked up at him with an angry, burning glare. And in hindsight, perhaps Germany should have seen it coming… but not even a moment later, Prussia’s fist snapped forward and caught him cleanly… and painfully, across the face.
The impact forced the German a step back. He recovered quickly, one hand rising to his cheek as he shut one eye and let out a heavy breath. “Okay… maybe I deserved that…” he began, his voice strained with discomfort but not anger. He told himself it was fair. After all, he had thrown the first punch. Taking one in return only made sense. It balanced things out.
However, the look in the Prussian’s red eyes made it clear he had no intention of keeping anything balanced. Before Germany could fully process what was happening, Prussia drew his fist back and drove it forward again, landing a brutal uppercut that hit far harder than the first strike.
This time, Germany lost his balance. He stumbled into the kitchen counter, catching himself with both hands as the edge dug into his palms. A sharp, metallic taste flooded his mouth almost immediately. He exhaled sharply through his nose, realizing he’d bitten his tongue on impact.
Ouch…
He swallowed against the unpleasant taste, then lifted a hand to rub at his aching jaw. His gaze drifted back to his brother, who was shaking out his hands with a satisfied look on his face.
Germany’s expression darkened at once. “What the fuck was that for?! Fuck!” he snapped, slamming his phone down onto the counter a little harder than necessary before pointing furiously at his brother.
Prussia only shrugged, letting out a casual whistle as if nothing he had just done mattered at all. “Now we’re even.” he said with a smug smile.
Germany narrowed his eyes at him. Frustration was an understatement for what he felt in that moment. He slammed his fist against the counter. “Even?!” he barked. “I hit you once! You hit me twice! Consecutively!”
The older German tilted his head, gaze unimpressed. “You hit me with your phone, too.”
Disbelief barely covered what crossed the blond’s face at those words. “I hit you with my phone?!” he repeated, his voice rising in sheer incredulity before he scoffed. “You hit yourself with it because you wouldn’t stop yanking on the damn thing! I only let go because I didn’t want to break it!”
Prussia clicked his tongue and waved a dismissive hand, completely unconvinced. “Yeah, like I’m going to believe that. You did it on purpose!”
“Huh?! On purpose?!” Germany echoed, bewilderment flashing across his features. For a moment, he couldn’t find a coherent reply… at least none he was willing to voice. The only thing that came to mind involved his fist and Prussia’s stomach… And unfortunately for Prussia, Germany was angry enough that the thought didn’t remain a thought for long.
“You know what?” he muttered, pushing off the counter and stepping toward his brother, irritation plain in his voice. “This is on fucking purpose…”
Before the eastern nation could react, Germany drove his fist into his stomach, not hard enough to seriously injure him, but enough to make him double over with a strangled curse.
“Scheißdreck…” (Fucking shit…) Prussia wheezed, clutching himself.
Germany shook out his wrist, then drew in a slow breath and let it out just as evenly, trying to rein in a temper that had already gone further than it should have. “Now we’re even.” he said flatly.
In his mind, that settled it. No more punches were needed after this one. Because, technically, they were even now… and because this whole back-and-forth between them had already slid into something childish and increasingly unreasonable.
“Now, let’s put an end to this dispute. What we’ve been doing is fairly immatu—” he began, only for the rest of the sentence to be ripped from his mouth as the ground suddenly vanished beneath him. And not in any metaphorical sense, either.
One moment, his feet had been firmly planted on the floor. The next, they were no longer touching it at all. He was airborne now… which would have been far less alarming if the “flight” had not been so painfully violent. Violent… because something heavy had slammed into him hard enough to send him hurtling backwards in the first place.
The breath was knocked clean out of Germany’s lungs midair, if only for a few milliseconds, before he crashed into the tiled floor with brutal force, pain jolting up his spine on impact. A sharp, almost electric ache flared at the back of his head where it struck the ground.
But he barely had time to register it. A crushing weight pinned him down, pressing into him hard enough that it felt as though he might be driven straight through the floor. For a moment, his thoughts stalled completely.
What the hell—?
The German blinked upward, dazed, only for the confusion to vanish almost instantly when he saw his brother looming over him with an angry glare.
…Ah, crap.
Prussia had tackled him.
“You do not get to hit me like that and think we’re fucking even!” Prussia yelled, his voice strained with fury as he shoved his forearm into Germany’s sternum. The pressure forced the air from Germany’s lungs in a harsh, painful rush.
But instead of making him back down, being pinned and attacked like this only made the blond’s frustration spike. His expression darkened as he grabbed Prussia’s arm, trying to pry it away from his chest.
“You—ah… Verdammt!” (Damn it!) he choked out, his breath catching as the weight against his sternum made it harder to breathe.
With a ragged motion, he kicked upward and finally managed to shove Prussia off. The red-eyed man stumbled backward, his head striking the fridge with a dull thud. A fierce sting lanced through his skull, but he barely registered it. The pain faded beneath a rush of rage that swallowed everything else almost instantly.
“You’re… so fucking dead, West…” he growled under his breath.
And before Germany could fully push himself off the floor, Prussia lunged at him again, like a feral animal from a nature documentary locking onto its prey. They crashed back onto the cold tiles, the impact and their pained grunts echoing loudly through the kitchen.
Now… that was the last straw for both of them. From there, the fight between the German brothers turned into something closer to a wrestling match!
Punches flew, followed by kicks and rough shoves that sent them slamming into the kitchen counters, knocking things over and dragging the room into chaos. Very unlike the German brothers, who were usually meticulous about order and cleanliness. But none of that mattered now. They were both burning with anger. The fight was brutal… and, honestly, completely unnecessary.
At one point, Prussia slammed his brother hard against one of the walls of the Italy brothers’ kitchen, and a sharp crack followed… not from Germany, thankfully, but from the wall itself. Though… with how furious they both were, neither of them even noticed.
It wasn’t until hurried footsteps echoed down the hall that their pointless fight finally came to a halt.
“What the hell is all this commotion?!” a frustrated voice snapped from the doorway. Southern Italy already sounded thoroughly fed up with whatever he hadn’t even seen yet.
“Are we having an earthquake or something?” came a softer, confused voice beside him. Northern Italy peeked in, head tilted in mild bewilderment.
But… the moment the two stepped into the kitchen, the words died in their throats. Both Italians froze in the doorway. Their eyes widened at the scene before them, shock quickly curdling into horror as they took in the destruction spread across the kitchen.
The Germans had stopped mid-fight at the sound of their lovers’ voices, both turning toward the doorway with equally startled expressions. Unfortunately for them, the position they’d been caught in made everything look significantly worse than it already was. Germany had Prussia pinned against the wall, one hand twisted into his shirt, while Prussia’s fist hovered only inches from Germany’s face.
And neither of them looked any better than the scene suggested. Both were thoroughly battered, faces already swelling where punches had landed again and again, bruises darkening across skin that would only look worse by morning. Prussia’s lip was split, blood still fresh at the corner of his mouth, while a faint trail ran from Germany’s nose.
The kitchen itself wasn’t spared either. Chairs were knocked over, utensils scattered, and cabinet doors hung open at odd angles…
It was an ugly sight all around.
The Italians stared in stunned silence, eyes darting between the wrecked room and their injured lovers.
Then Veneziano let out a loud, panicked scream. “WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TWO DOING?!”
It was immediately followed by Romano’s furious shout. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Yeah.
The Germans had seriously messed up.