A/N: Dedicated to Flattered By Mockery. Incest, vague sexual situations, and a bit of language.

It goes without saying that I don't own anything.


No matter how hardened war has made him over his long lifetime, Prussia still can't stand the smell of burnt flesh. But there is no escape from it, not now. The stench hangs heavily in the atmosphere. It's carried around by the smoke and wind until there is no patch of clean air in the entire city. It is the reek of dried blood and decay, of the dead and dying. The ashes of fires that have yet to burn out.

Prussia slowly treks through the remains of the once thriving city, sidestepping the mangled body of a young child. He feels a knot of disgust twist in his gut. How did things get so bad?

His head shoots up when he hears the sound of shouting near by. The voice is painfully familiar so he follows it. He is greeted by the site of a man, who is covered in dirt and blood, pounding angrily on the wall of a partially collapsed house. Under the filth, Prussia can just make out the blonde of the man's hair.

"Hey, you want some help with that?"

"B-bruder?" The man, Germany, stutters as he turns around. His dull eyes light up and he barely resists the urge to fling himself into his brother's chest and pretend that this is all a bad dream.

"Hey West. . ." The Prussian tries to smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Everything hurts: his body, his mind, his heart. But he forgets his pains at the site of his brother. Not unharmed, but alive nonetheless. "So what did that wall do to deserve your wrath, anyhow?" He attempts to jest-anything to see that smile again. It does not work.

". . . I couldn't save them." The younger nation whispers.

"Who?" Prussia asks, though he already knows the answer.

"Everyone! Anyone!" Germany's voice raises and he fists his hands into his dirty hair. "My boss, my citizens, my country! They all died because I was not strong enough!" And suddenly he's screaming, letting out all his fears and sorrows and regrets. He screams until a pair of strong, albeit shaking, arms grabs him and pulls him to an equally strong chest.

"Hush, mein kleiner Engel." The albino murmurs softly. He has not called his brother that in a long time-since he was very young. It succeeds in quieting the distraught nation. "None of that was your fault."


"You did what you could, and no one could have expected any more." The war-bred nation cuts in, silencing the weak protests. His hands slip from the other's waist to grip tattered arms. "I'm just sorry that I couldn't be of more help."

Germany straightens. "You were trying to defend Königsberg! That was your top priority. I know it was more important to you than-"

"Bullshit!" Prussia spits angrily, unconsciously tightening his grip on the other's arms. "Yeah, it was important-really fucking important. But you were always my main priority." He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply. Breathe in, breathe out and repeat.

"All your life, I've tried to be the most awesome bro ever. But when it mattered, when you really needed me, I couldn't be there for you." A disgusted smile. "Some shitty brother I turned out to be, huh?"

The next thing Prussia knows he is being slapped hard across the face. He blinks in shock.

"Bruder, you idiot. . ." The taller nation growls. "You did what you could, and I could not have expected any more."

To have his own words tossed in his face like that causes the albino to freeze for a second or two. Then, for no reason at all, he bursts out laughing. He doesn't know why he is laughing, but it feels so good. His brother stares at him for a moment, like he has lost his mind, before joining in too. They laugh until they are breathless, until their bruised ribs ache, until they can't laugh any more. They laugh away their grief, their pain.

They laugh because they will not cry.

When they finally gain control of themselves again, the sky overhead has darkened with clouds. They take no notice; they're too caught up in each other. Too busy wishing they were in the old days, back when the world was a simpler place.

Prussia is the first to move. He closes the gap between them, planting his lips firmly on his brother's. Germany responds by wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his waist. His own arms snake around the blonde and pull him close. They kiss for an eternity before the need to breathe arises and, even then, they pull just far enough away to draw in air. Then they come to together again.

Prussia feels a little more adventurous this time, so he allows his tongue to dart forward to lick and request permission for invasion. The other mouth opens instantly and their tongues twirl around each other, almost dancing. All the while, they gradually ease inside the destroyed house. Soon they are sprawled out on the ground, blissfully unaware of the puddles of half-dried blood and mud and gore surrounding them.

Slowly, patiently, they remove each other's clothing. 'Make it last, make it last.' their minds chant in unison. Prussia gently pushes Germany down and begins the process of preparation. When that is complete, he places a kiss on the other's mouth and pushes in.

The presence of each other wards off the shadows that lurk around them; ones that threaten to pull them in and never let go. They pay no heed to the smell of death that permeates through out the house, the city, the country. They move together on the dirty floor, swept up in their own world. As they reach their climax, the first rumble of thunder booms outside.

Later, as they lay together on a makeshift bed, Prussia holds Germany as the blonde drifts off to sleep. He wants to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He looks down at his little brother and feels a pang of sadness, deep in his heart. He hates how all good things must come to an end, even if they've only just begun. But he knows that they are looking for him; those Allied bastards.

He knows he can't stay. No matter how much he wants to.

As gently and quietly as he can, Prussia removes himself from his sleeping brother and lays him down. The young nation stirs but doesn't wake. Prussia casts a fond smile down at him and reaches out to brush some of the filthy blonde hair away from his equally filthy face.

"In case we never see each other again, I want you to know that-" He says under his breath then pauses, letting his hand fall away. ". . . forget it." His jaw clenches tightly as he stands up to gather his few belongings. Then, for the final time, the proud nation known as Prussia turns around and leaves his brother. His most precious person. He doesn't look back.

And, somewhere deep within his subconscious, Germany begins to cry.


Herzeleid - Heartache

Bruder - Brother

Mein kleiner Engel - My little angel

Other Notes:

In case it wasn't obvious, this took place right after the Battle for Berlin, which lead to the Germans surrendering in WWII in 1945. The battle took place in Berlin (obviously) and almost a million people were killed (soldiers and civilians alike). It's recognized as one of the bloodiest battles in history and it just about completely destroyed Berlin.

Königsberg was the capital of Prussia from around 1255 to 1945, when it was invaded and taken over by Soviet forces. The Battle for Königsberg happened just a week before the battle in Berlin (thus explaining why Prussia was not present as back up for his brother). It's now called Kaliningrad.

Historically, the state of Prussia wasn't dissolved until 1947. But in my head-canon, I think that the Allied forces would have taken Prussia into custody, arrested if you will, as soon as possible. Besides, the decision to dissolve a nation that has been around for as long as he had doesn't happen over night.