Work Text:
Five Days Before Christmas
It was an incredibly cold negative five degrees Celsius in Berlin on Monday morning. Romano was thankful he didn't listen to Prussia's advice before he got on the plane to Germany ("A light coat should be fine," the other nation assured over the phone a week ago. Romano could hear his affectionate grin all the way down in Naples and he was embarrassed at how warm it made him feel. "It feels like springtime up here.")
Now even Prussia's overly sappy pronouncements couldn't keep Romano properly warm. He was wearing his thickest scarf and hat and a long, puffy coat, padded gloves fitted snugly on his hands. Romano almost brought earmuffs as well, for the double protection from the cold and Prussia's annoying, grating (sweet, adoring) voice, but decided against it. He couldn't regret that decision, either, as Prussia took every opportunity that morning to take off his own gloves and warm Romano's ears with his hands.
They walked side by side through Romano's first Christmas market, not quite close enough to be obviously together. Occasionally Prussia would get excited and run toward a stall and Romano would reach out and grab his elbow to reign him in, but that was the extent of their touching (until, of course, Prussia felt he had to warm Romano's ears again).
Prussia bought some trinket that he wouldn't let Romano see, claiming it was a present for Veneziano and that Romano would spoil it. The Italian let him have his little secret instead of arguing that Veneziano was the one with the big mouth.
About an hour into their leisurely walk, Romano looked up from the rostbratwurst he could privately admit he was enjoying to see Prussia, mulled wine in hand, staring at him with soft eyes.
"What?" he asked, reaching up with his now un-gloved hand to wipe at his face. Prussia in quiet contemplation rarely led to anything good. "What's the matter?"
Prussia smiled, the expression almost earnest. "You're so adorable, pretending you don't like the market. Or the food," he added, gesturing at Romano's second snack of the afternoon.
This time Romano immediately went on the defense, even as his freezing ears turned red with embarrassment. "Pretending?" he scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "I hate it here. It's too fucking cold and everything at the stalls sucks."
Prussia's smile faltered. "Oh," he murmured. He took another sip of wine, glancing down at his sneakered feet.
"B-but the company isn't half bad," Romano said quickly, on damage control. Prussia nodded forlornly, and Romano would have actually apologized (maybe) if he didn't see the beginnings of a smirk on Prussia's lips. "Fuck you," he snapped, stamping his foot on the lightly snow-covered ground. "I don't know why I agreed to come to this hell country anyway."
"Because you like me," Prussia replied, childishly drawing out the 'i'. His wine-red eyes darkened and his smirk widened. "You think I'm hot and you wanna kiss me!"
Romano finished his food in two bites, wiped his mouth, and then pulled his scarf all the way up to his nose again. People were passing too close to their little out-of-the-way corner (Prussia had them stand there to eat, instead of in the middle of the marketplace) for Romano to even play around with Prussia's obsession with kissing.
The scarf didn't deter him. Prussia leaned forward, yanked the knit fabric down with one hand, and kissed Romano in full view of the crowded street.
Prussia tasted like Christmas, Romano thought hazily, letting himself be leaned back against the building behind him. He shivered slightly, wishing he had put his gloves back on earlier, but Prussia just gathered both of his hands in one of his and held them tightly against his chest. They kissed for a few lazy moments before someone whistled lewdly and Romano pulled away.
"Fuck off," he said vaguely in their direction, a little dizzy. "You… don't kiss me in public, bastard!"
The smirk was in full force now. "You liked it," Prussia said flippantly, bringing Romano's trapped hands up to his lips and kissing his fingers as well. Romano felt like he was going to spontaneously combust.
"Can we just get back to your house?" he asked in a slightly more whiny tone than he meant to.
"Oh, eager, are we?" Prussia continued to tease, throwing his paper cup in the trash and using that hand to fish Romano's gloves out of his pocket. He put the left one on, tucking the ends into Romano's jacket sleeve, and then started working on the right. "We can go back now. I just wanted you to go to the market once in your life."
Romano readjusted his scarf and hat. "Well," he mumbled, not looking at Prussia as he took his hand and tugged him back onto the street, "I didn't say I don't want to come back tomorrow. I'm just done for today."
Prussia kissed him on the cheek and Romano made a show of wiping it off, but still didn't let go of Prussia's hand.
Four Days Before Christmas
Romano, lying on his side in the darkness of Prussia's room, watched his boyfriend sleep. He never snored or anything, he didn't drool or mutter, he just… slept. Prussia looked, if not peaceful, restful.
This was the first time he stayed the night in Prussia's bed without any activities beforehand. There were a couple times at Romano's house, and even more in hotels during various meetings. They were both so tired from their day out that they fell right asleep, Prussia not even getting a chance to fool around and be annoying. Romano would have let him, too, just to see his eyes light up and lips curl into a smile.
He shifted forward so he and Prussia were nose-to-nose. Hesitantly, he leaned forward that scant centimeter to press his lips to Prussia's, and then pulled back to study him again. Pale eyelids flickered but Prussia didn't otherwise respond. Romano leaned forward again, pressed his head to Prussia's shoulder, and sighed into his collarbone.
"What's wrong?" Prussia asked in a sleepy slur, throwing his arm over Romano's shoulders and squeezing him. "You don't need to miss me, I'm right here."
Romano huffed angrily. "I didn't miss you, idiot."
"I liked that kiss, though."
Romano didn't answer, embarrassed to have been caught. They were quiet for long enough that Romano was beginning to think Prussia fell back asleep, but then he pulled Romano even closer and buried his face in the Italian's hair.
"What's wrong?" he asked again.
"Nothing."
"You should sleep. We're having dinner with West and your brother today, and tomorrow is the Christmas party. You're going to be insufferable if you don't rest."
He was right, of course. "Where the fuck did you learn a big word like 'insufferable'?" Romano teased half-heartedly. When did you get to know me so well? he wanted to ask.
Prussia wiggled his eyebrows. "You gonna kiss me under the mistletoe?"
"You can kiss my ass," Romano replied, distinctly unimpressed.
The sound of Prussia's laugh seemed overly loud in the darkness. "In public? I'll hold you to that."
"Don't push your luck." Romano silenced whatever retort Prussia would think up with his lips. It kept both of them sufficiently distracted for some time.
A door opened and closed upstairs. "Oh, that's West," Prussia said into their kiss. He bit Romano's bottom lip lightly, then pecked the spot and started to kiss down his jaw. "I wonder what he's making for breakfast."
Romano pulled away with a disgusted sound. "And don't talk about your potato brother while I'm in bed with you, bastard."
Prussia sat up, pulling the blankets off of Romano, who snarled like an upset cat and pulled them all back towards him. "Breakfast," Prussia whined, pulling the blankets away again. "Get up!"
Romano sighed long-sufferingly. Prussia eventually plied him from the bed with more kisses.
Three Days Before Christmas
Renting out a hall for their party was maybe the best idea Prussia ever had (besides dating Romano, of course). He organized all the decoration and catering services with Germany's money--another great idea--and had the place ready to his surprisingly exacting standards by the twenty second of December.
It wasn't a big hall, certainly smaller than the kind of room they used for their meetings, but maybe that was just because of the tables taking up the back and sides of the festively decorated place. Romano stood at the edge of the sea of tables, leaning back on one foot with his arms crossed, watching Prussia inspect the open bar. It was hours before anyone was supposed to show up and yet here they were, making sure everything was perfect.
Well, at least Prussia was. Romano was pretty sure he himself was just there as moral support.
Prussia practically ran up to him right at that moment, grabbing his hands despite Romano's closed-off appearance and spinning him around the floor. "It's done!" he said excitedly, voice gone even more raspy with happiness. It often sounded like that when they finished having furtive sex somewhere they weren't supposed to, but Romano didn't want to think of that right then.
"I could have told you that without us coming the fuck down here," Romano replied, but didn't pull his hands away. "You interrupted my fucking nap, idiot."
Prussia's excitement dimmed to a more manageable level. "Come here, then." He dragged Romano to a curtained off door he hadn't seen before and opened it, bringing the both of them inside. He turned on the light with a casual flick of his hand against the wall, illuminating the small room. There was a couch that didn't look too horrible in there, plus a few plush looking chairs and a little coffee table off to the side.
Romano looked around curiously for a few moments before turning back to Prussia. "Really?" he asked without inflection.
"What's wrong with it?" Prussia flopped down in one of the chairs and gestured him toward the sofa. "I'll wake you up when people start to show up."
It was an odd time to be struck by Prussia's seemingly effortless care for his well being, having been pushed into a strange little room to sleep before almost all of his friends came over and got wasted, but Romano was struck all the same. He lay back on the couch like Prussia wanted him to, and then gestured for Prussia to come over to him.
Prussia hesitated. "I don't want to fall asleep," he explained, looking toward the open door and the silent hall beyond.
"Set an alarm, then. Come here."
After another second of hesitation, Prussia nodded and stood, crossing the tiny space and settling himself on top of Romano on the small couch. Romano tucked Prussia's head under his chin and wrapped an arm around his upper back. "Am I too heavy?" Prussia said self-consciously, shifting so he leaned more against the back of the sofa than on Romano's stomach.
Romano pulled him back, bracketing Prussia between his legs, one of which dangled off of the other end of the couch. "No. Stop squirming." Once Prussia's warm weight finally settled down against his chest, Romano dropped easily off to sleep.
An indeterminate amount of time later, Romano's eyes snapped back open at the sound of muffled laughter and cooing. Spain and France were sitting in the chairs across from him; France had his phone out and was probably taking pictures, and Spain looked like he was about to collapse from the sheer happiness in his expression.
Prussia, as he had feared, was still asleep. Romano gently stroked his hair back from his face, and then used that hand to cover Prussia's ear. "Fuck off," he hissed at both Spain and France.
"Have you ever seen anything so precious in your life, Spain?" France said, voice dripping with sticky sweetness. "Too bad we had to wake them up."
The embarrassment finally had time to set in. This was certainly his and Prussia's first time being caught in such an intimate position, even if it wasn't at all sexual. Romano really wanted to kick both of them the hell out but Prussia was starting to wake up, sniffling cutely and trying to snuggle further into Romano's arms.
"Prussia, we have to get up," Romano muttered, pushing Prussia into a semi-sitting position. "Your asshole friends are here."
Prussia's eyes opened a lot more leisurely than Romano's had. "Oh." He rubbed the sleepiness out of them and yawned. "You guys are ready to get wasted, right?"
"The question is," Spain said through laughter, "Are you? You won't pass out at the bar?"
"Fuck off." Prussia threw one of the decorative pillows at Spain's head; it hit him and fell to the floor but he didn't stop laughing.
France folded his hands over his mouth. "They're even speaking the same way, now," he squealed.
Romano finger-combed his hair as best he could, adjusting his part and flicking the errant curl out of his eyes, before he stood from the couch and pulled Prussia up with him. He missed the conspiratorial wink Prussia shot back at his friends before they were out of the room and into the party that was already starting.
The Italian tightened his grip on Prussia's hand. "I need a fucking drink."
Thank God for strong alcohol. Romano was now on his second drink of the night and feeling much more awake, just letting the rest of the party wash over him. There were some gifts exchanged between certain nations, but he was planning on giving his brother and Spain theirs at his house on the twenty fifth.
If they didn't still have hangovers then. The open bar was another one of Prussia's great ideas--party planning seemed to bring out the tactician in him--but it was hard to trust any of them with more than a few mouthfuls of alcohol. There were already drinks spilled all over the floor and handprints on the walls, decorations torn down and worn on people's heads and clothing--for nations ranging from hundreds to thousands of years old, they tended to act like recalcitrant children when they got together.
Germany was distracted enough by Veneziano (already drunk off his ass and insisting that they dance) that he didn't immediately start cleaning up. Prussia was trying to get wasted, flanked by France and Spain (at the shirtless and emotional stages of drunk, respectively) at the bar.
"Romano," someone said near him, thrilling the 'r' entirely too long for them to be sober. Romano tilted his head, and was apparently drunker than he thought because he stumbled a few steps before he could straighten and actually look over.
Poland grinned lopsidedly, trying not to spill their beer all over the both of them. It would certainly have been a shame to ruin their little black dress and evergreen heels that matched their eyes. "Hey, Poland," Romano replied with a small smile of his own. It was hard not to like Poland, with their elaborate outfits and excitable nature. They were like a less idiotic Veneziano.
"You're totally not drinking enough," Poland continued. "Where's your…" They swayed toward him again, waving their free hand. "Your Prussia? He would get you really… totally drunk."
Romano snorted and took another sip of his drink. He didn't usually like vodka but Russia had brought some truly acceptable alcohol with him as a gift and Romano just couldn't say no. The bar was pre-stocked with cranberry juice but he had to admit, his cup was mostly alcohol. "He's with his friends."
Poland hummed and leaned against him; Romano shifted so he could hold them up, mostly leaning against the wall. Lithuania came by and smiled at the both of them. "Hello," he said politely, hands free of drinks. "They're alright?"
"I mean… you want 'em?" Romano offered, shrugging his shoulder toward the Baltic state. "They think I'm not drunk enough." Lithuania just kept smiling in that knowing way of his and pulled Poland toward himself, wrapping a steadying arm around their waist. "Tell them I think their dress looks nice when they can understand words again."
Lithuania chuckled and murmured something in Poland's ear, making them giggle as well. Romano made his way unsteadily toward Prussia, finishing his drink and setting the cup down on a free table. He bypassed England who was crying about something or other (if he walked too slowly he might get snagged and have to listen about how America was "all grown up" and "abandoning England for greener pastures") and Hungary and Austria, who seemed moments from arguing.
Prussia turned away from the bar when Romano laid a warm hand against his lower back. "Heyyyy, Romano," he slurred worse than Poland. "You having a good time?" He pecked Romano on the cheek, almost catching him in the eye instead.
"Absolutely," Romano replied dryly. "Will you even remember this tomorrow?"
"If you will, it's a fucking problem." He stood precariously on the stool and reached behind the bar for that bottle Russia had brought, finding a plastic cup there as well. How he knew that's what Romano was drinking, the Italian didn't think to ask. "Drink up, be merry--"
"Yo-ho!" Spain shouted, brandishing his own drink. The three of them burst out laughing and Romano just stared, bewildered. Prussia topped off his new cup and grinned wolfishly.
Romano blinked at him, and then drank it down. They cheered wildly until he finished the entire cupful and only cheered more when he staggered back. Prussia pulled him into a very wet kiss that had France and America whistling and Spain covering his eyes, going on a very England-like tangent about his little boy growing up.
The combination of vodka and Prussia's kiss made him amazingly dizzy. "You're a bastard, you know that?"
Prussia's eyes flashed like he was going into battle. "You love it," he insisted, putting his drink down behind him and sliding off the stool into Romano's arms. "Let's go somewhere more… private."
"I'm surprised you can still form word endings," said Romano. Even more whistles and catcalls started up and he frowned, glancing around. They weren't doing anything inappropriate and he doubted anyone had heard what Prussia whispered to him over the pounding music. Prussia lifted a hand to tilt his chin back and he spotted what everyone was excited about.
"No free shows," Prussia called to the crowd and Hungary booed.
The mistletoe seemed to sparkle at them and Romano considered his options. Veneziano was standing right there and would never let him live it down if he didn't honor the "mistletoe tradition" that he didn't even know about until ten years ago. The others had seen Prussia kiss him not thirty seconds ago, and he didn't die from embarrassment then.
He licked his lips and took Prussia's face in both his hands. "We'll charge them later," he thought he murmured, but that might have been in his head. What mattered was Prussia's soft lips on his, and then his hot tongue pressing its way into his mouth. It was a bit of an overkill, Romano somehow had the presence of mind to think as Prussia held him around the waist and dipped him back.
Romano pulled away with a gasp when he was 99% sure they were going to end up on the ground. Veneziano was screaming with joy, bouncing around and grabbing on to Germany like he was going to escape if Veneziano didn't keep a good hold of him.
"Private," Prussia repeated, trying to sound sexy, but then he tripped over his feet and actually did drop Romano.
Two Days Before Christmas
Romano was so hung-over he didn't think twice about making his way upstairs in just Prussia's sheet to make them both breakfast. The only other occasion he'd forgotten himself enough in Germany's house to not be fully clothed out of Prussia's basement was the first time he wasn't too nervous he was going to be loud and let Prussia top him in his own house. He was so fucked out he 1) didn't know why they hadn't done it earlier and 2) didn't get dressed until the early evening.
Veneziano grinned at him from the kitchen table this morning, bright and chirpy and invincible, and Romano wanted to kill him.
"I didn't know Prussia had sheets with birds printed on them," he commented. Romano smacked him on the back of his head with his spatula.
One Day Before Christmas
"I'm gonna miss you, baby," Prussia said through crocodile tears, gripping one of Romano's hands in both of his.
"Oh, my God," Romano replied. He hid his face in his free hand.
"Are you gonna call me every day? It just won't be the same." Prussia actually started to get down on his knees before Romano glared at him. "Let's have phone sex every night, okay?"
"I'm leaving your ass here if you don't stop."
Prussia grinned at him and shouldered his carryon bag. "I wanted to make it romantic."
Romano rolled his eyes and flashed his ID at one of the security officers to let them bypass the security line. "You getting your ass kicked in the middle of a crowded airport isn't going to be romantic at all. Unless you like it when people see you cry for real, asshole."
It took a while to pull Prussia away from the duty-free shops. He had some odd obsession with buying every little ugly trinket he could and filling Romano's house with them. Romano owned more tiny German landmark replicas than he could realistically display at once, but he couldn't bring himself to throw any of them away. Prussia thankfully only bought some chocolate this time and slid it all into Romano's pockets for safekeeping.
The southern half of Italy didn't like wasting money on short flights, so they were only flying business class down to Rome (the coach was full by the time Romano bought tickets, which he liked to tell himself was the only reason they weren't flying as cheaply as possible). Prussia called the window seat and Romano let him, planning on reading during the flight anyway.
"Are you making Christmas dinner or is your brother?"
Romano buckled his seat belt and leaned over to do Prussia's almost without thinking. "Both of us are."
"Will you make me cannoli?"
"If you want."
"Can we eat it in bed?"
An exasperated sigh was his answer. "If you don't get crumbs everywhere, then yes."
Prussia beamed at him in a very Veneziano way. "You're very agreeable this close to Christmas."
Romano punched him gently in the leg but didn't reply. Prussia waited impatiently for the plane to take off so he could browse the in-flight movies; he leaned his head on Romano's shoulder and shared earphones with him. It wouldn't have mattered anyway from the way Prussia insisted on explaining the entire movie to him in hushed tones.
Eventually Romano stopped even trying to watch the movie and just rested his head on top of Prussia's. The blonde's non-stop chatter dropped off and he squeezed Romano's knee. Romano could see his cheeks turning red but didn't call him out.
The flight only lasted the one movie. Prussia stared out the window for the landing, taking pictures with his phone for his blog. Romano allowed one to be taken of him, but he refused to smile at the camera (Prussia kissed his cheek and the small, contented smile the camera managed to capture was aimed at his boyfriend).
Veneziano and Germany came down on an earlier flight so they were both at the airport to pick Romano and Prussia up. "Like the weather, West?" Prussia asked his brother with a grin, climbing into Veneziano's car--Germany was in the driver's seat for obvious reasons. "We won't be getting a white Christmas here, will we?"
"Your hair is white enough for all of us," Romano murmured, ruffling Prussia's platinum blond hair with a grin. Veneziano leaned around the front seat to smile at them both and Romano's normal frown returned. "What are you looking at?"
"You and Prussia are so happy!" He ignored Germany's warning to keep his seatbelt buckled to turn soft eyes on his brother. "I've never seen you smile so much before. We might have a Christmas without alfredo splattering the kitchen ceiling this year!"
Germany sighed and Prussia cackled laughter.
Christmas Day
Prussia stood looking at the Italies' Christmas tree for a long while. Romano waited behind him, leaning against the kitchen doorway with an cappuccino in hand. The tree wasn't all that nice or anything, but he and his brother had decorated it with as many handmade wooden ornaments as they could fit, from humans that they loved and loved them. The glass ones were more delicate and were left upstairs.
"Breakfast!" Veneziano called, coming into the doorway beside his brother. Prussia nodded absently. "Oh, Romano!" His brother nudged his shoulder and grinned.
Romano groaned and leaned forward, letting Veneziano kiss his cheek under the mistletoe he had completely forgotten was there. Veneziano also stole a sip of his cappuccino.
"Come on, idiot." Romano reached forward and grabbed the back of Prussia's shirt, pulling him back a step. "Eat before presents."
"I didn't know…." Prussia reached behind himself to hold Romano's hand--Romano blushed but still walked up beside him. "I didn't know you still had so much from your… your people."
Prussia's lack of nation wasn't so much a sore spot for them as something they never talked about. Sometimes Romano thought about bringing it up but he never followed through; Prussia's excitable nature tended to fade fast when Romano got serious.
Maybe it was time for them to have their first important conversation that didn't have to do with sex.
"We try to keep as much as we can," Romano said slowly, leaning into Prussia's side. "Even if we lost all of it, we'd still have their memory. And the blood of their children are in our veins."
Prussia stiffened. "Their children," he muttered.
"The feeling fades if they have children in other countries, but it never really goes away."
It took a moment for the message to sink in. Romano lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of Prussia's, then pulled him in toward the kitchen.