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“I’m sorry,” Prussia says, as they’re finishing dinner. Germany’s brain stalls for a second. Prussia doesn’t do apologies.
“What?” Germany says. For a moment he thinks it’s for the truly exhausting cleaning spree Prussia just forced him into. Germany had forgotten how terrifyingly energetic Prussia was when he wasn’t literally dying. But that would be ridiculous, because again, Prussia doesn’t apologize. Ever.
“Don’t make me say it twice,” Prussia huffed, but then added more softly, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. About dying.”
Oh. Well. That is something to apologize for.
“Why didn’t you?” Germany tries to keep the anger out of his voice. Germany hates to be angry. All the way on that plane ride home he had been so furious, with himself mostly. Prussia was dead, and he still feels dead but he’s here, so the last thing Germany wants is to be angry. But Prussia died, and he didn’t even say goodbye, and now he’s right in front of him and Germany can’t help but be angry, and he’s sure that Prussia knows him well enough to know.
“I didn’t know how,” Prussia says, “I’m not good at this. I… You know I love you, right?”
Germany exe. has stopped responding.
Prussia blushes so red it looks like his hair might catch fire.
“U-um,” Germany says sort of dazedly, “Yeah. I mean. Yes. I know.”
“Good,” Prussia says, “‘Cause I do. And I’m, um. Proud of you. And stuff.”
“Thanks,” Germany says, “I, um. I love you, too. I’m not good at this either.”
“Mmm,” Prussia says agreeingly. “Probably my fault. So. That’s why I didn’t tell you. We’re a mess.”
Germany laughs. That was probably the most awkward few seconds of his entire life, and Prussia probably feels the same.
Prussia grins at him. “I still can’t believe you actually ditched a meeting for me, though, you really must love me!”
“Please,” Germany says, allowing himself a grin in return, “I only came back for the dogs. You didn’t even call Austria or someone to come feed them.”
“Austria!” Prussia says, “As though I would trust Austria with your precious children. He’d probably feed them chocolate cake and kill them all.”
Germany rolls his eyes. “This reminds me, though,” he says, “You need to call America and tell him you’re not dead.”
“Ooh!” Prussia says, his eyes lighting up, “How long do you think I can keep him convinced that I’m a vengeful ghost come to haunt him for that one time he tried to kill me?”
“Correction,” Germany says, “I need to call America and tell him you’re not dead.”
“Spoilsport!”