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Lately, Britain had been noticing something. He didn't quite know what it was, nor how to prevent it, but an odd phenomenon kept occurring whenever he interacted with his new ally, the Kingdom of Prussia. If Britain really focused hard, he could sense that it was something along the lines of feeling watched, but even without his guard up, the unsettling vibes resonated within his bones. It was a little unnerving, to say the least.
Today was but a typical day, except for perhaps the meeting between many major European powers regarding "the state of Europe," as they've decided to call it. Bogus. It likely had something to do with Britain and France's ally swap, and how it completely threw everything off balance, but Britain himself couldn't find it in him to care all that much—certainly not to the extent of his new Prussian ally.
Britain was never quite sure what to feel about him. Prussia was an exemplary country, at least when it came to fulfilling the duties of running a country, but the Brit still got mildly offended whenever he was treated the same way as almost everyone else by Prussia. The action implied that Prussia thought no greater of Britain than, say, France, and he would not allow himself to be on the same level as a frog. Though that might've just been a him problem.
Britain also couldn't tell what Prussia was thinking half the time. Prussia had a very blank resting face, and Britain wasn't well-acquainted enough with the subtle influxions of his cheeks to read them like he knew some people could do. Britain would forever remain mystified about most of what Prussia thought, but their partnership still held on despite the not-quite-friends relationship the two currently had. It was a wonder how those two managed to become allies in the first place.
As Britain made his way to the meeting room, trying to think of things to discuss but ultimately only coming up with a few brags about his empire, he ran into his Prussian ally, attempting to sift through whatever documents he brought in the hallway. The British man greeted him and walked forward, offering a helping hand to the Prussian with a few more papers than necessary for such a useless yet relatively large-scale meeting.
"Thank you," Prussia responded, splitting the stack in half and handing one half to Britain. "I'm not sure what exactly we're going to be discussing in this meeting, so I brought a bit of everything just in case. Apologies for the disturbance."
"Oh no, it's quite alright. What kind of ally would I be if I left my partner in his own distress?" Britain quipped, his fingers brushing past Prussia's hand to grab and neaten the half-stack of papers.
It was right around then when Britain felt that odd feeling wash over him for what must've been the tenth time this week. Once again, Britain felt that looming sensation tickle the back of his neck. This time, however, his senses were a little sharper than usual. Britain had, for once in his immortal life, gotten what would be considered a sufficient amount of sleep for the average individual, so he could actually sense the general direction of where the unnerving feeling was coming from.
Britain's gut told him that the feeling was coming from behind Prussia, a little ways away. This was his chance to figure out what was going on! He craned his neck the slightest, looking just past Prussia .. only to find a very pissed-off Russian peeking behind a conspicuous door nearby.
Uh ..
The first possibility Britain thought of was that Russia was glaring at his political enemies, because he was allied with France, but the idea of Russia looking sharply at Prussia seemed like an impossible feat, though Britain wasn't quite sure why he thought that. The second possibility, less likely, was that Russia was stalking them to find out their weaknesses. It made some sense, sure, but it still didn't sit right with him. He was missing something, and it was preventing him from understanding what the heck was going on.
For a quick moment, after Britain had developed his theories, he and Russia locked eyes, and the Brit felt a small shiver go down his spine. He quickly looked away, hoping that it would mean nothing. Knowing Russia, however, that was likely not going to be the case.
Russia was, in Britain's eyes, an individual worth fearing. Not through military might like Prussia, or through sheer audacity like France, but through his own threatening gazes regardless of the state of his country. Russia, as a person, was very creepy, and Britain was sure that almost everyone who knew him would say the same. In any case, it was very much frightening for Britain to have such an individual now staring at him with twice as much force and enough firepower to pierce the hull of his Royal Navy, of all navies. Britain suddenly felt the strong urge to drop everything and sprint back to London.
He knew he wouldn't though—not when it would decimate his pride and lead to many confused letters. Therefore, Britain merely pretended he didn't see anything, which was already not working since Prussia quickly noticed. He didn't ask about it, however, and merely discussed business instead. Quite typical of him, Britain mused.
"I'm quite curious as to what we mean by the 'state of Europe,' because that could entail just about everything. Do you think it means something economic-related? Perhaps it's about any changes in our continent's geography. The most likely answer would probably be regarding the political status of European powers, since our alliances have changed over the course of just a few years," Prussia rambled, not sensing the mild panic in Britain's eyes.
"O-oh, well .. yes, that's likely what we're going to talk about. I don't think this meeting shall last very long, in that case, because there's not much we can discuss about it and all .." Britain hastily conversed, watching Russia out of the corner of his eye. The Russian wasn't making any suspicious moves yet, so that was probably a good sign, right?
Ah. Ah crap. Britain really shouldn't have jinxed it.
Right when he thought that, Russia started walking forward, coming out of his hiding spot towards them. Britain's brain was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out the best escape route while also not abandoning his ally to the clutches of the bear-like Russian man. Unfortunately, he was approaching fast, and Britain ran out of time. Russia's arms wrapped around Prussia's neck from behind and ..
.. That was it.
Huh? Was he not going to .. attack, or take them out? Now Britain was even more scared, because he had no idea what this meant and he didn't know if it was a good thing. Another something Britain finally realized was the fact that Prussia, currently in the large arms of Russia, was doing absolutely nothing about it. In fact, Britain might've suspected that Prussia didn't even know he was being held(?) by Russia if he wasn't mighty aware of the Prussian's keen senses, having been spotted by Prussia on numerous occasions. It would actually be, now that Britain thought about it for a little longer, suspicious if Prussia didn't notice Russia tailing him .. which would imply that he knew the entire time but said nothing about it.
Oh great heavens above, Britain needed a cup of tea with this.
Prussia, meanwhile, had been continuously talking about something regarding the economic status of Europe when he finally registered that Britain was very much not listening to him speak. With the small tilt of his head, he asked, "Is there something wrong, Britain?"
Britain was honest-to-god questioning his taste in allies as he spoke: "I'm fine, Prussia. I'm just curious as to why Russia was watching us from behind a door for a majority of our conversation."
It was then that Prussia turned slightly to his left, acknowledging Russia's existence and meeting his expectant gaze with a (did Britain see that right?) half-hearted look of disdain. "Don't mind him," Prussia waved off. "He's practically harmless."
Britain begged to differ, but he refrained from doing so to his most important ally as of late. He had a feeling that he wouldn't make it out alive if he voiced out his thoughts. Instead, he merely nodded, not approving of this situation but not in any position to do something about.
"I .. see. Well then, shall we, uh, get to the meeting room then? I'm fairly certain that the meeting's about to start," Britain muttered awkwardly, accidentally meeting the Russian's golden, smug eyes again. Russia grinned, checking if Prussia was looking away before mouthing a few words. "Hands off, British boy." Britain was too creeped out to register the statement.
At the sight of Russia's oddly cheerful expression, Prussia merely sighed and lightly flicked the Russian's forehead, which did little to nothing besides give him an excuse to look offended. At the odd exchange of faces, Britain puzzledly watched the scene as he felt himself turning into something akin to a third wheel.
As the three made it to the location of the meeting, Britain thought over everything that just happened in the span of about ten minutes, and mentally sighed. He longed for a cup of hot tea while having one thought and one thought only: "I really don't get those two. Not at all."