I noticed the other day that I hadn't uploaded anything of real substance lately. Themes...at about two hundred words each, those don't really count. Shocked and horrified by this realization, I sat down immediately and nearly gave myself carpal tunnel syndrome typing this thing. (IN ABOUT HALF AN HOUR! LUDICROUS SPEED!)

I've never done PrussiaxHungary before...please tell me what you think. :D

the disclaimer is this thing that disclaimes. this one is telling you that i don't own hetalia.

Austria was out; some meeting with Switzerland or something, and Hungary was sitting on her bed, in pajamas, cross-legged, flipping carefully through some old photo albums.

Faded, sepia pictures from years ago, mostly of her and Prussia, cheering at horse races, drinking beers, and fencing.

The later ones had Austria in them; a very old wedding photo, with them standing stiffly by as their bosses signed contracts, and then a more personal one of Austria gently kissing her and sliding a ring onto her finger.

Hungary smiled, and traced the tall aristocrat's face with her finger. "Roderich…" she sighed, "You really swept me off my feet, now didn't you?"

The photo of the marriage was the last in the album, and she was just about to close it and reach for the next, when something caught her eye.

In the corner of the photo, standing by with the line of nations that had come to the event; Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, and so on, was someone that Hungary hardly remembered even being there.

A skinny, spiky-haired man in a uniform -collar slightly crooked, one cuff unfolded- standing stiffly next to his brother.

Prussia, thought Hungary, That's right. Prussia was there.

She looked at him, rendered into eternity by the photo, forever standing at uncomfortable attention. She knew, even though the still picture made him motionless, that he would be twitching and longing to get out of the formal affair.

Oh, Gilbert…you never liked ceremony, did you?

She smiled sadly and peered closer at the image.

And then sat up straight, with shock.

Because Prussia was crying.

In the photograph, she could just make out the tracks of tears running freely down his cheeks.

"Gilbert…?" she whispered, "Why are you crying…?"

The Hungarian looked back at herself and the man she was marrying. Both her and Austria were smiling at each other, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes…she could remember it so well. The airy room, the murmurs of the attendees, the warmth that flooded out of her husband.

She had never noticed Prussia crying, she had never noticed Prussia being there at all.

But they had been friends, right? Best friends. The type of friends that would always be friends. And one remembers friends at one's own wedding, right?

What had happened?

Hungary felt a pang of something like remorse. She had lost contact with Prussia after the wedding. She had lost contact with mostly everybody.

A rushing, voiding feeling filled her so quickly it took her breath away. Where was Gilbert now? Behind some wall in some place where she could never get him? Germany…Prussia. What was Prussia? It wasn't on a map, in an atlas. It didn't have a football team or an Olympic team or a representative or a place in the EU or a listing in the school textbooks or…anything.

But she saw Gilbert. She saw him all the time! With France, and Spain, and lying about Germany's house, and at the pharmacy, getting cough medicine, and…

Speaking of cough medicine, she had noticed he was always hacking away whenever he spoke. Barely a sentence went by without that wheezing, cracking cough that she always took for a laugh.

What if Gilbert was…disappearing?

The thought took her by storm. The Hungarian woman stood up from her bed, the album sliding off her lap. She caught it just in time and put it on the bedcovers.

Hungary pulled off her pajamas and dug through her closet, finally pulling out a pair of old and worn jeans from amidst the rack of modest dresses. A t-shirt came to light after some rooting –it had a large stain on the side but at this point Hungary could care less- and she pulled it on. Slipping her feet into her sneakers, Hungary stomped downstairs, feeling young and rebellious and absolutely furious- at herself.

Why hadn't she noticed? Why hadn't she ever returned his calls, when he still made them.

And why, why, why, why, hadn't she realized just how much she missed him?


The sun was going down, and long delicate fingers of red and orange stretched across the sky. Hungary strode down the street, following a route she knew too well; before this paved road had been here, there had been a worn path through the once-thick forest.

It had veered north, but now she went straight, straight to where Germany lived.

The house was by the long drive, a modest affair without much decoration, painted and inconspicuous and pleasant beige.

Hungary walked up the steps and knocked firmly on the door.

Germany answered. He was in half a uniform and looked as though he had just come in from training; his hair was sticking up from sweat and a few chunks of his bangs had flopped down into his eyes.

"Ah- hallo, Ungarn," he said, politely, on well enough terms with Hungary to call her in his own language, "Are you…looking for Prussia?" the last was said somewhat hesitantly, as though he wasn't sure if that were true, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she would be there without any announcement.

The hesitation irked Hungary slightly; there had been a time when Germany would have shown her in and hollered for Prussia, no questions asked.

Things had changed.

"Y-yes. Is he here?"

"Ja, ja, I'll…get him…" Germany said, running a hand distractedly through his hair, trying to smooth it back. "Ehh…forgive me, I just got in…PREUSSEN!"

There was a clattering on the stairs, a loose shoe fell down through the banisters, and a tousled, silver head poked itself around the corner at the top. "Ja? Was ist los, West? Ist d-" Then he noticed Hungary, standing there in her scrubs, looking up at him with stars in her eyes, and he stopped short. "Eliz-erm, Hungary? What brings you here?"

"I-I was just wondering if you…wanted to come out and just…h-hang out for a bit."

Prussia's entire being seemed to light up. "Well, hell yeah! Lemme jus' throw on some shoes…hey, West! Where's my other shoe? I can't go out with just one shoe! Not awesome!"

Germany flung the sneaker that had come flying down the stairs a few moments before up, hitting Prussia neatly in the face. "There. And don't fling your things about, Gilbert…this is my house! I want it clean!" the German turned to Hungary apologetically. "Entschuldigung…I have to go clean myself up…" And he walked –marched, really, Germany always marched- upstairs, past Prussia, rubbing his nose and tying his shoe, and disappeared.

Prussia practically slid down the set of stairs, skidding to Hungary's side. "I haven't seen you in ages, Hung-" he had to stop to cough, a terrible sound that seemed to be tearing at his throat, and Hungary felt a rush of sorrow and pain for the albino-"ach…why did you change your mind about avoiding me?" he finished, raspily.

Hungary felt really miserable at that moment. "I wasn't avoiding you, I just- I…"

Prussia grinned. "Hey, it's okay! You probably just missed my sexy awesome so much that you had to come see me, ri'?"

Hungary stopped feeling sorry for Prussia and suddenly remembered exactly just how annoying he could be. "I did not 'miss your sexy awesome'! I was bored! Austria's out and I had nothing to do but resort to your –rather unpleasant- company."

Prussia's face had fallen at the mention of Austria, but he managed to get a grin back to say, "Very well, mi'lady, what do you want to do?"

"Don't call me that, Porosz, and stop sounding stupid! Let's just, oh, I don't know! Whatever the hell we used to do all the time!" she was feeling slightly desperate. Oh god, did she really just not work with Prussia anymore? It used to be so easy. Prussia and Hungary. They were always together; they hated each other, loved each other. Best friends, eternal best friends…

Prussia was coughing again, nearly bent double, clutching at his side. "Ach…gott!"

"Hey…are you okay?" Hungary asked, hurriedly, worried.

Prussia waved a hand wordlessly, trying to grin, but his face just contorted back into a grimace.

Hungary whacked him on the back a couple times, and finally the albino non-nation took a few wheezing breaths and straightened.

"You really should get that cough checked out," she told him, trying to seem casual. But Prussia wasn't playing, for once.

"You can't get that kinda thing just checked out, Hungary. Like a doctor can really diagnose lack of nationality as a cold." His voice held an uncharacteristic bitter note. "Anyways. What did we used to do…?" he looked thoughtful for a moment, then a familiar wicked grin spread over his features. "I remember."


Prussia didn't answer. He merely leapt at her, tackling the Hungarian around the waist, and toppling them both down onto the lawn.

"AH- POROSZ!" Hungary screeched, struggling.


She grinned against her will and grabbed his arm, flipping him around and pinning his legs to the ground. Prussia wriggled out of her grip and leapt up. "UNGARN!"

Hungary yelped, ducked out of his grasp, and began running towards the woods out back. Prussia dashed after her, laughing wildly.

Hungary suddenly got flashbacks of being a mere child-nation, when her father Magyar still watched over her. She was running, laughing, through the woods, Prussia close at her heels, screeching in German and cackling.

She jumped lightly over a trickle of a stream and then tripped over a rock, rolling to the ground and lying there, flat on her back, arms spread out, staring up through the trees at the sky.

Prussia loped up a second later, and dove to the ground besides her, rolling to be on his side.



"I'm sorry I haven't come to see you in a while."

"Or returned a single one of my myriad phone calls to your house…Austria's house...Romania's house…"

"okay, okay. I get it."

Prussia looked at her, his head propped up on his hand. "Just…come by more often, right? I admit…it's pretty awesome when you stop being all stuck up and girly."

"I'm not stuck up and girly!"


Hungary sat up, suddenly worried. "Come on, Gilbert…I'm not that bad, am I?"

Prussia looked at her for a long time, then grinned. "Not too bad…just don't hang out with Austria so much. He's a bad influence."

"Says the infamous Prussia! Like you're anyone to judge-"

A cough interrupted her sentence, followed up by a laugh. "In any case, I'm a better person to hang out with. I'm awesomer (naturally)" -'I don't even think that's a word', Hungary grumbled- "And much, much hotter."

Hungary whacked him. Prussia rolled away, laughing.

She crawled over to him and glared down at the albino spread on the pine-needle covered ground. "You. Are. Annoying."

"I'm irresistible."

"Shut up!"

"but, seriously…"

"you're never serious."

"I am now! I just want…I…" a tinge of red spread over the pale cheeks, and Prussia sat up. "I mean…I'd like it. For you and I too hang out more often." He mumbled the last bit, looking away.

Hungary was silent for a moment, surprised, then smiled a smile of relief and joy. "oh, god, Gilbert, I was hoping and praying that you'd say that." She suddenly grabbed his waist in a tight hug, and buried her face into his shirt. "I've really, really missed you."

Prussia was taken aback for a moment, then he wrapped his arms around the Hungarian, and smiled. "I missed you too, Elizaveta."


"You're not half as tough as you say."

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"You freaking cried at my wedding."

"I-I did not!"

"Um…yes, you did."

"Did not! Real men don't cry! It's totally unawesome!"

"I have pictures!"




That omake necessary for my life.
I needed that PruHun LIKE BURNING. Any comments on how to get Prussia more in character? Do tell! Anything from critisism (spelling malfunction, but I'm too tired to figure out how to fix thaaat) to keysmash is always loved!