No Longer Dust

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The Third Reich had thought his already very bad headache couldn't get any worse, and yet here he was.

"Stop- Stop fucking talking. Please. Just for 5 minutes, let me process this." The Reich rubbed his head in a mixture of frustration and confusion, as you would expect from someone who just got a few hour long rundown of the prior 70 years. His son replied with a thumbs up, leaning back against the couch, happy for a chance to finally catch his breath.

"So. Let's talk about you getting split after I died. How exactly did that happen? I don't see any scar," Reich asked in a way that would have seemed condescending if Germany wasn't familiar with him. Germany grimaced at the question, a look reminiscent of a tired dad crossing his face.

"I was in some weird joint custody with USSR and America, they passed me back and forth like a divorced couple." Reich snorted at this, a humored smile taking place of his previously neutral expression.

"What an odd way to refer to them."

"Do you have an issue with how I described them?"

"No, it's just a bit funny since they were, you know, married?"

"I- wh- that's not... What?" Germany asked, looking at his pops exasperated, thinking, no, hoping it was just him being senile.

"Oh? You didn't know?" Reich's eyebrows raised and a sly smirk slid onto his face. Germany's look went from exasperated to confused, confirming his father's suspicion. "Oh, you don't know! How wonderful, I love talking about this sort of thing!" Reich said with a bit too much glee in his voice.

"I don't know if I wanna know anymore," Germany wavered, genuine concern lacing his voice. Reich's smirk only grew at that, mind racing with various ideas of how to further confuse his boy.

"How about we take a proper break from this?" Poland interjected before Reich got the chance to speak again. "I think Germany is a tad too sleep deprived to deal with your bullshit anymore."

"Sleep deprived? Germany you have been sleeping proper amounts, have you not?"

"Well-" Germany fumbled over his words, "-that depends on your definition of proper amounts." Reich looked close at his son's face, just now noticing the prevalent eye bags poorly hidden by his glasses. He let out a disappointed sign, scooping Germany up into his arms.

"Where's your room?" Germany squirmed in his hold, not liking this new development.

"Doesn't matter, put me down please."

"Polen where is Germany's room?"

"Upstairs, third door to the left."

"Thank you." He started heading that way, the tired boy in his arms weakly protesting, no longer having the energy to fight back. In fact, Germany was quite comfortable, as would soon be made known to Reich. He set his boy on the bed and turned to leave, before being stopped by a hand gripping his wrist. He looked at Germany quizzically.

"Um... Would you mind staying? Please?" Germany's usual firm, confident tone was replaced by a near whimper, tugging his pops towards him. Reich's face turned from confusion into something much softer, nodding a yes to Germany who moved over to make room for his dad. Reich took off his jacket, tie, and shoes before laying down next to his son, holding him once again. As they both drifted off into sleep, a winged figure appeared at the door, a slight smile on his face.

"Ah, this is gonna make great blackmail."

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"So what was the afterlife like?" It was an innocent question, really. It's only natural that the USA would be curious as to what his husband had been up to for the past 30 years. He, unfortunately, was not prepared for the story that would soon follow.