Another Story (In The Lives of the 'Kugelfamily')

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"Prussia!"

The sound of a familiar voice raised into a shout startled him out of his half-asleep dozing. A snort escaped him as Prussia lifted his head. "Oh, hey," he said sleepily, using the hand that wasn't loosely clutching a half-full beer bottle to wave to the figures standing in the doorway. "If it isn't the little master and Kid Picasso! I mean, I love it when you pay me a visit, but what're you guys doin' in West's basement at... at three in the fucking morning?! What the hell is so damn important that-!"

"Prussia, please refrain from using such vulgar language in front of a seven-year-old." Austria seemed irritated. More than usual, anyway; maybe almost as much when His Awesomeness Prussia swung by in the middle of some lame piano sonata-whatever. Like, the kind of annoyed when he'd forgotten to buy coffee the weekend before and spend a morning deprived of caffeine. Or like the annoyed he pretended to be whenever he found a note from Prussia himself scribbled on a Post-It on the G-key of his piano keyboard, maybe or maybe not depicted with affectionate 'words of amazing awesomeness' (and a heart).

"What?" Prussia asked, spreading an arm and waving them over. "He's gonna learn 'em eventually. Right, brat?"

"Yes, but I would prefer for him to learn at an older age than seven, and not from you." Austria sighed as Kugelmugel broke from his side, walking calmly to Prussia's couch and climbed onto it, letting the strong arm pull him close into a hug. Austria crossed his arms, the frown remaining on his face even as Prussia blinked pleadingly up at him over the curve of the kid's head. Austria had probably changed Kugelmugel's shampoo to one that could clean out paint, because his hair smelled kinda odd. "But that isn't my point. Just why do you think I decided to visit you at this ungodly hour, Prussia?"

Prussia realized that not even Austria stayed up all night, playing odes his precious composers until the sun rose again. The priss had on a (certain awesome someone's) red jacket over a pajama shirt, slippers on his feet and ruffled hair; he yawned. "Can you guess why?" he continued sharply, cutting off Prussia's enjoyment of just how beauti- prett- delightfully sloppy, the prince of prissiness looked. "Take a wild guess. Just.. take a good look at him!"

As Austria pointed a finger of accusation, Prussia pulled back a little from the little micronation in his embrace and looked down at the quiet boy under his arm. Kugelmugel had a speck of scarlet red above one of his serene violet eyes, reminding him of the tiny little beauty mark at the corner of Austria's mouth; the boy was in rumpled clothing, a paint-stained shirt and patched green shorts, and bright purple socks. His unruly long hair was pulled into the same tamed hairstyle Austria had braided it into a while ago...

Kugelmugel's tired eyes opened again at Prussia's loud (totally manly) squeal of delight. "Your hair!" Prussia took one of the tightly weaved braids into his hand, running his finger along the plaits down to the band binding them at the bottom. "It's-!"

"Bleached!" Austria spat, long legs carrying him across the room as he walked. Prussia grinned up at him, reciprocating the scowl as Austria snatched the braid from his hand and held it up for speculation. "Completely white! He dyed his hair white! Without my permission or guidance!"

"Shut up! It's art!" Kugelmugel shouted, voice raised defensively as he pulled his braid out of Austria's tugging and yanking hand.

"I think it looks awesome!" Prussia said enthusiastically, a smile he couldn't repress tugging onto his lips. It was probably that smirk that Austria despised, ranting about how infuriatingly smug it looked, but he didn't care if he was hit this time. Prussia brushed the bleached hair out of Kugelmugel's eyes, pressing an affectionate kiss to his forehead. "At least he didn't fuck up making it all one color, or dye it neon pink like that American friend he has did, or- heaven forbid, cut it unevenly!"