Prussia hurried out the house, his feet scampering down carpeted stairs, through the grand entrance way and past the wide front door onto a manicured lawn. As he stalked over to the comatose Italians, Prussia couldn't smother his smirk.

"Take this, you fuckin' prick!" Prussia spat vindictively, pulling his foot back and kicking Romano in the family jewels. Immediately, Romano cringed, curling in upon himself and groaning fitfully, clutching at the abused part of his body.

A sharp nod from the Prussian told of his satisfaction in revenge, fists planted firmly on hips and feet spread apart, the skirt waving around his legs in the breeze.

His moment of gloating was interrupted by one younger brother who ran over to the window and shouted down at him, "BR-BROTHER! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! MEIN GOTT!"

While the dislike towards Romano wasn't unfathomable to Germany, the actual assault was and to kick him there of all places… Germany shuddered unnoticeably, concentrating on keeping his gaze firmly on his older; and much more troublesome; brother.

Prussia grit his teeth and shouted up, "HE INSULTED OLD FRITZ I AM COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED!"

Just at that moment, in a stroke of pure coincidence, Spain strolled by, though it may just be because he had finally developed a sensor for whenever Romano managed to dig himself into a hole that he couldn't get out of. Which was quite frequently. Green eyes glanced over at the three skirt-clad males, but all the Spaniard had to say was, "oh, there he is!" in that perpetually oblivious and cheery voice.

Prussia whipped around, still puffed up in indignance over the 'Old Fritz' comment from Romano, but all Spain did was mildly stroll past, heft up Romano and sling him over his shoulder in a show of ungainly strength that hadn't been lost from his conquistador days.

Then, Spain noticed his former ally and friend. A smile, brilliant and chatty, stretched across his face, "nice outfit."

"Antonio, we've been friends for centuries. Do me a favour and SHUT THE FUCK UP." Prussia was red in the face from all his yelling and anger, fists clenched tightly at his sides, "Take your boytoy and go!"

Romano was whimpering and weakly beating his fists against Spain's back groggily slurring, "damn you, you go'damn fuckin' bast'rd. A'yer fault…"

Spain just tipped his head, quipped a small 'bye then~' and continued on his leisurely walk, as though he hadn't paused upon one of the most awkward situations of the decade. Being oblivious sure came in handy when it came to potentially mind-scarring situations.

"What is wrong with you, Gilbert?!" Austria's call preceded him as he rushed out the front door, followed closely by a cautious, yet rigid Germany.

"I already told you, IDIOT." Prussia rounded, spinning angrily on his heel as he narrowed his eyes and placed his hands imperiously on his hips, "is your memory THAT bad?!"

"I feel the need to remind you of your stupidity." Austria said pointedly, sniffing distastefully and lifting his chin slightly.

At that moment, Italy squirmed around on the grass, still decidedly asleep, but sorely missing the heat that his brother had offered. Now that the more irritable Italian was gone, Italy found himself without someone to cuddle and that meant Something was Very Wrong. His back bumped into the toe of Germany's shined boot and he immediately flipped over, letting out a contented and subconscious 've~' as he clutched his arms around the larger man's leather-clad calf.

Germany was immediately preoccupied with attempting to pry the sleeping Italian parasite from his leg.

Without shame, Prussia snorted, then walked up to Austria and trailed his fingers down Austria's chest, along the satin and smooth silk, tracing lacy curves and tugging on the ribbons that tied the corset front together, "are you sure about that~?" his voice dropped to a sultry octave and a lecherous wink thrown in for good measure.

"What are you doing?" Austria asked, blushing and with some indignance. He took one half-step backwards, away from the obviously cracked man in front of him.

Prussia simply leaned closer to his retreating quarry, "you, hopefully."

Austria shivered at the breath that ghosted over his neck, his blush darkening, "you only have two settings, don't you? Excited and horny."

-"I-Italy, get off…"-

"No," Prussia pulled back and stuck his lower lip out in a pout, "I have lots of settings," a lecherous tone entered his voice, "would you like to see them all~?"

"Not now, Gilbert…" an apprehensive glance towards the flustered German and sleeping Italian.

"Oh, so later~?" Prussia held Austria's chin between his fingers and carefully lifted it, so that they were once again looking each other in the eye.

-"Ve~ Germany~ let's go make pasta~"-

"S-stop twisting my words like that!" Austria snapped, his hands curled into fists.

"I'm not twistin' yer words, I'm merely elaboratin'."

Austria was silent a moment, staring at Prussia with his mischievous grin and lecherous words. Pale fingers that were once cupped around his chin trailed upwards to pull at his lower lip. The slightly calloused, warm pads of pale pointer and third fingers pushed along the slightly rouged lip.

"You are such an exhibitionist."

"Whatever d'ya mean, Roddy~?" Prussia hummed, more than content to continue his exploration of Austria's lips with his finger.

"We're standing in my front yard!" Austria replied indignantly, "your brother is right there!"

"And you're still wearin' your maid costume, darlin'." Prussia countered, wrapping both arms around Austria's waist and pulling him closer, a mocking twist to his lips, "so don't call just me an exhibitionist."

-"… Let's go inside."-

Austria was then frightfully reminded of how short the dress really was; the bizarre feeling of air against his thighs had somewhere along the line begun to feel normal; and tried to back away from the forced embrace, "I'm going inside."

"No yer not." Prussia replied stubbornly, pulling his arms tighter and stepping forward until he was satisfied with the lack of distance.

"I-I… wha-" Austria struggled to free his arms, but only managed to move one around, which he used to attempt to flatten the skirt at the back, "I need to change!"

Moving one hand from the small of Austria's back, Prussia curled his fingers around the hem of the frilly skirt and lifted it a fraction against the tight hold the pianist had, "No you don't, Roderich~"

"Don't-! Don't do that!"

A frown flipped Prussia's smirk, "why not, Roddy~?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

Embarrassed, Austria hissed, "what do you think I'm wearing underneath?!"

"I'm kind of hoping nothin' – makes my job easier."

Austria was simply shocked. Stunned silent at the audacity of Prussia, but he had always been a pervert, so there wasn't really any reason to be surprised, was there?

"You're not strugglin'," Prussia leered, leaning towards Austria even further until his nose brushed along the smooth expanse of cheek, followed by a light brush of dry lips, "which shows me that you want me, darlin'."

As Prussia pulled back slightly, a smirk plastered to his lips, Austria regained coherency and managed to realize exactly what Prussia had been up to. "I-I'll have you know that I am, in fact, wearing undergarments. I would just rather that the entire world didn't see them!" The usual disapproving frown had worked its way onto Austria's features, though a blush of frustration was still high on his cheeks.

"You're soundin' more and more like a woman ever second, Roderich!" a brief laugh interrupted Prussia's teasing reply, "what, are they pink? Covered in PIANOS~? Or maybe there's a picture of my face on your ass, and you're too embarrassed to show everyone how much you yearn for me~"

"There is not!" Austria spat in offence, blushing, "Who would want your face there?!" a pause, then belatedly, "And I do not 'year for you'!"

"You SO yearn for me~" Prussia teased, "I'm here to help you with your URGES."


"Oh-so you don't want my face at your ass. So do you want my face at your crotch, then~?" Prussia began laughing uncontrollably, his arms tightening around Austria.

Austria was flustered, blushing and attempting to force a coherent response out, "Let go of me! I don't – what… you… just… just what?!"

Prussia relinquished his hold on the confused nation, only to kneel on the grass, one hand on Austria's waist and the other somewhere lower. His pointed face hovered level with Austria's navel, smug smirk upturned as he laughed wickedly, "You. Want. My. Face. At. Your. Crotch. Yes?"

"NO." Austria denied, his hand reaching out to grip Prussia's head – in hopes of pulling him away of course – but a pull became a push and the pale forehead connected with silk that covered Austria's stomach.

Prussia glanced up through remarkably dark eyelashes, "your hand seems to be betrayin' yer words~"

As Austria snatched his hand away in embarrassment, Italy ran out of his house; his front door; with clothes gripped in fists and draped all over his body, streaming out behind him like multi-coloured sails.

"Austria-nii~! Why are all your clothing in the kitchen~? Oh-"

From his angle, he must have glimpsed the tuft of silver hair level with Austria's skirt because he stopped abruptly in the doorway, blinking and tipping his head to the side.

Prussia simply glanced around Austria's skirt, completely ignoring the spluttering nation, and grinned, "Yo, Feliciano! Welcome back!" he then; much to Austria's relief; stood up and promptly wrapped his arms loosely around Austria's waist again, pulling him closer and resting his chin on the shoulder before him; much to Austria's disbelief, "did you make the pasta already?"

Austria was shocked out of his stunned state by the hand that 'innocently' traced the curve of his behind and let out an indignant noise as Germany called from the doorway, "Br-Brother, PLEASE…"

"Don't be such a party-pooper, West~" Prussia whined, grinning even wider, until Austria thwacked him on the head.

"Hand off!" A flush was predominant on the aristocrat's face as he turned (as best he could with Prussia squeezing him like that) and immediately spoke, "my clothing!"

"Yeah, yeah! They were in the cupboard, and the fridge and the dishwasher and…" Italy began again excitedly, resuming his fists wild movement, subsequently waving a pair of boxers in the air, "… and this I found in the breadbox!"

"Whose boxers are those, Feli?" Prussia squinted at the article of clothing, a glint in his eye that suggested he had plans for them, "And how'd they get in the kitchen~?"

Germany replied for Italy, who was still naming off the places he had found each sock, glove and shirt, "I – I suppose that Hungary must have put them there… By any chance, did it perhaps involve her trying to get you into a maid costume?"

"Probably," Prussia shrugged here, his body curved even closer around Austria's, "anything that involves Roderich's clothes bein' put in random places – especially the fridge – probably means it was his stupid, creepy, ex-wife."

"Don't touch me so familiarly," Austria protested, breaking into the blithe conversation as Prussia's hands once again began wandering where Austria would prefer they didn't.

"You weren't sayin' that last night~" Prussia gave Austria a lecherous wink, before letting go and stepping away; his arms weighted down slightly with reluctance.

Austria wasn't allowed a reply because at that moment Italy abruptly threw his hands up; flinging the clothing into the air; and crying out, "THE PASTA!" before bolting back into the house, leaving Austria's clothes spread out across the lawn. Germany followed him inside in silence.

The aristocrat twitched, wanting desperately to pick his clothes; oh god not those shirts; up.

Prussia simply stretched his arms upwards languorously, arms twining above his head and toes curling into the plush grass, "mm… This is kinda comfy… Breezy, too… Still gonna kill 'er, though…" His spine bowed backwards slightly, shoulders coming up to ears in an attempt to stretch every muscle. Unfortunately, the black and rouge skirt rode up his thigh slightly and didn't return to its previous place even when Prussia had lowered his arms.

"Pull your skirt down before you kill someone," Austria said in a clipped tone as he bent over to pick up a piece of clothing.

"Kill 'em with my five metres, eh?" Prussia snickered.

"Right, whatever you say," Austria allowed. He had had quite enough of a hassle for one day, thank you very much, and he was not going to get into any further arguments. Maybe if he humored the idiot, then he would leave, which Austria, unwittingly, assumed would give him peace and quiet.

"You're jealous of my five metres~! Admit it, Roddy, you WISH that you had five metres, so you could brag~"

At every word, Austria could feel the ire rising within him. Finally, he stalked over to Prussia and tugged the edge of his skirt down with a jerk, "I wouldn't brag. Don't go revealing yourself just anywhere."

No one really realized, least of all Austria himself, that the brunette was easily jealous. He hadn't ever had much to be jealous of, but this… this! This was his- the peaceful time, he meant- and for Prussia to be invading… rather, wasting that time was unacceptable!

"I'm sexy awesome," Prussia glared at Austria, "I wanna flaunt what I've got. And… Why do you care, Roddy?"

"Well," Austria began self-righteously, "you are standing on my front lawn. If you're intent on exposing yourself I suggest you find a more appropriate place."

"…" Prussia slowly began pulling the skirt up his thigh, face expressionless as he watched Austria's reaction.

Austria simply frowned in a disapproving warning.

Prussia continued to inch the fabric upwards, stepping forward with one leg and lowering his eyelids challengingly, and with a hint of something more. Austria wasn't so blind as to realize what Prussia was trying to get at, so when a brief glance around his property proved they were alone, the brunette pulled him closer and brushed their lips in a slight kiss. The contact surprising after all the flirting that had been happening all morning; because though it may not seem it to most, they had been flirting; and the stagnant lack of contact since Prussia had released his forced embrace of Austria. It was the sort of kiss that could be taken as little more than an accident, except Austria's violet eyes were open and lidded and cast downwards as Prussia blushed; caught unawares.

And then they were separate, Austria back to his task of gathering clothing, "Now stop being foolish and go in the house before you start a riot."

The abrupt loss of contact left Prussia slightly bewildered as he stood dumbly, until he heard Austria's curt words; cold, even, after their kiss. He stalked past Austria towards the house muttering, "… hmph, whatever."

Austria waited a moment, teeth picking at his lip, until he was sure Prussia was in the house before turning to the bushes and calling out in irritation, "I know you're there."

"Ahhh, mon cher Austria! You know me too well~" France smiled without remorse as he stepped out of Austria's bushes. Austria was pleased to see that he had a leaf tangled in his hair. France stepped closer, waggling his brows, in what he must have thought was an attractive manner, and saying slyly, "tu est tres beau."

"Don't touch me," Austria frowned warningly, folding the collected clothes over his arm and facing France directly.

"But I can't resist a woman in uniform~!"

France took a step forward, Austria a step back.

"I'm not female, France," Austria replied, his expression not quite a glare, but disapproving none-the-less.

"That's not what your magnificent dress is telling me~" France moved closer, a glint in his eyes that didn't bode well.

"This is not my dress, it's hardly what I would call magnificent."

"I suppose I can hire you to work at my house as a maid~ No one is here to stop me, anyways," France replied without listening, stepping forward again, slightly on a diagonal as though approaching a wild animal more prone to flight than fight.

"Don't even try that on me, Francis. I don't need someone to stop you," why did everyone assume he couldn't take care of himself? Lose a few wars and everyone believes you're a pushover!

France was advancing quicker now, Austria too slow to back off felt one hand run down his side, caressing the wrinkles and ribbons in the dress, "Mm, delicioius~"

"Don't touch me."

Austria swatted at France's hand and turned to walk away, but he didn't get far.

"Ah, mon amour, do not be difficult!" France called as he lunged at Austria, catching the brunette around the waist and pulling him down. Austria kicked out, unsuccessfully and fell harshly to the ground.

At that moment, Italy ran out, "Austria-nii! Pasta's ready~! Veeee~ France-nii, what are you doing?" Italy cocked his head to the side.

France ignored the Italian and commenced his cursory groping, a perverted smirk on his face, "why don't you come back to my house and be my maid, mon petit fleur~? I shall treat you well…"

Prussia followed Italy out, his step buoyant enough to flounce the lacy skirt," Yeah, c'mon, Rod-" he stopped dead in his tracks, "… France?!" Glittering red eyes narrowed to a glare as Prussia spat, "France. Let go of him. NOW."

"And why should I, Prussia~?" France asked, looking up and obviously enjoying both Italy and Prussia in their respective costumes.

"Cause I said so, you prickish Frog!"

"I said NO! Why won't anyone listen?!" Austria called out in frustration, writhing on the ground, attempting to pry his body from beneath France's.

"Ve~ I'm listening~" Italy commented hazily.

"That's not exactly helpful, Italy," Austria gritted his teeth and managed to land another kick on France.

"Stop struggling, Austria~!" France winced, his hands wandering as much as they were holding the other country down.

Prussia trembled for a moment, strung tight and muscles clenched, before stalking forward, "that's it," he grabbed hold of two points on France and heaved, yanking him off of Austria and depositing him harshly on the ground.

"Gilbert-?" France looked up, surprised, as though he hadn't expected Prussia to actually stop him. As a general rule, Prussia didn't care who France made his next conquest.

"Don't. Touch. Roderich." Apparently Prussia cared this time.

Germany appeared in the doorway long enough to usher Italy back into the house, away from France's prying hands.

France, however, had different sights. From his vantage point, he had a prime view up one silverette's skirt. One sneaky hand traveled upwards, quickly copping a feel.

Prussia flushed as he let out a yelp, "b-bastard, don't fuckin' touch me either!"

A quick kick to the shin deterred France long enough for the whack to his head to connect the idea that he was unwelcome with his motor skills, causing him to limp off, dejected and glancing back.

"Oh go bother the English prick or somethin', you ass!" Prussia snapped, a victorious air surrounding him once more as he smoothed down the creases in his uniform.

Austria watched France leave his property and let out a slight sound of laughter, "I won't be seeing much of him any time soon." Violet eyes glanced at Prussia, then away again, "And, er… Thanks. For… you know…"

Prussia looked down at him with expressionless silence. When Austria trailed off, he looked away, "sure, whatever."

The stark contrast between Prussia's usual disposition and his current expressions caught Austria's attention. He watched Prussia walk back over to the door, ignoring him the whole way, then stood, gathering the clothes quickly into his arms once more.

He followed behind Prussia, breaking the silence with an offhanded, "I think I have some clothes that might fit you. If you want them," the last part added in a hasty attempt at nonchalance.

"Nah, this is comfortable," Prussia replied with a shrug, then the silence returned, as awkward as before. Just as Austria was searching for something more to say, Prussia asked abruptly, "mind if I crash on your couch tonight? West is gonna take Feli home, and probably be forced into stayin' overnight, and I ain't walkin' home without 'im."

And though Austria knew that Prussia was perfectly capable of walking home by himself, he replied easily, "I do have spare rooms, you know. You can stay in one of those. Better a bed than my couch."

Prussia reached the threshold of the open door, the sounds of Italy and Germany in the kitchen filtering out, but ignored. He paused. Austria had enough presence of mind to stop before running into the idiot (further proving he wasn't an idiot himself).

"Can I crash in YOUR bed?" Prussia glanced over his shoulder, a surprisingly human expression on his face, rather than his usual caricature emotions, "if I promise not to do anythin'?"

Austria paused, feeling the prickling tension drain away, blinked for a moment, before replying, "sure," easily sliding past (ignoring where his arm slid against Prussia's side and the skirt that brushed his thigh) through the open doorway, clothes bundled in his arms.

Slightly surprised, as though expecting a different reaction, Prussia followed, "sweet."


A/N: And that's all there is!

Hope you enjoyed this rollercoaster ride, even if just a little bit~

Happy Holidays from Doom and Ed! (Don't you wish that authors would update during the holidays like us~?)