Entschuldigung

The phone is ringing incessantly and Germany is taking a shower.

He is sure that it’s probably just Italy calling for help again, but he can’t help worry that it may be someone more important, like Japan.  He wants to answer it just to make sure (and perhaps because he is a little worried about Italy, even though he will never admit to it) but he has only just started scrubbing his hair and he knows he won’t be able to rinse, dry, and reach the phone in time.

“Bruder!” he calls, pausing his hands that were busy massaging his scalp to listen for his brother’s reply. Nothing. “Hey, bruder! I need you to answer the phone!”

Still nothing.

Germany opens his mouth to shout again but freezes mid-breath.

Oh.

His fingers begin to scrub again, this time harder and more rushed. He has to stop himself from pressing too roughly lest he walk away with a raw scalp and possibly a bad case of dandruff. Once he’s finished he rinses and shuts the water off, taking a moment to watch the soapy residue disappear down the drain.

Germany yanks the shower curtain open and grabs his towel. Quickly wrapping it around his waist, he opens the bathroom door and speed-walks towards the kitchen. The phone is silent in its cradle but he picks it up and looks at the missed call.

Ah, it was just Italy. Again.

With a sigh he drops it back onto the cradle and strolls to his room to dress. He doesn’t bother to put on proper clothes, just his usual training shirt and pants and a pair of socks. He isn’t going anywhere today so there is no one that he has to worry about seeing. A day off was what everyone said he needed, even Japan had heartily agreed.  And he couldn’t lie – dozing off on the couch with the TV on and a beer in his hand sounded like heaven. He didn’t even bother to argue, just walked away with a quiet “okay”.

So here he is.

The remote is already on the arm of the couch when he goes to sit down. He knows it is Prussia’s doing – that lazy dummkopf always dozes off with the TV on no matter the time of day. But the memory of his brother –feet propped up and head half-hanging off the side of the couch–makes him smile. Prussia may appear lazy but what most people didn’t know (or perhaps forget) was that it was this very same man that taught Germany all he knew. About rules and schedules, folding his clothes and making his bed… 

Germany chuckles quietly and shakes his head, also remembering the day his brother had taught him to fish. It had been the best day of his life. Just him and his older brother, a few fishing poles, worms, and a basket of snacks while they sat at the edge of the pond, waiting for something to bite.

The TV is loud when he turns it on, and he has to stop from shouting at Prussia to turn the TV down before you shut it off! Instead he just holds the volume button until the voices are lower and lolls his head back, blond hair falling from its usual place and into his eyes.

News. News. News. Aaand…

“A fire in Munich kills ten people–”

…more news.

It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going on – he is Germany, after all; he just doesn’t need to be reminded of the tragedies that happen every day by some monotone man whose toupee is slipping off his head.

Germany turns the channel to a soccer game and settles back into the couch. Prussia loves soccer. They used to watch games together all the time, just the two of them with a beer in hand and the volume to its breaking point. Yes, good times.