Prussia x Hungary

Hungary x Prussia

The young man stepped forward into the empty hallway, confused.  Where was Italia-chan?  He straightened out the collar on his dark blue uniform and seemed oblivious to the little chick that peeped once in his ear.  Determined to find his friend, he walked deeper into the hallway and found a door at the end.  It was very unlike Italia to invite him to a place such as this.
The man pushed back a stray lock of his platinum-blonde hair and closed his red eyes once with slight fear.  He put his gloved hand on the doorknob and turned it without another moment's hesitation, for he knew that if he had hesitated, he would never have opened the door.
He dreaded doing it immediately after, for it was not Italia-chan sitting there in the chair by the window, for this was obviously a girl, her long dark hair arrayed around her shoulders as she cried, facing the window and the outside world.  Confused, he reached out a hand foolishly and uselessly.  What good would that do?  The chick on his head peeped again and the girl turned, fright in her green eyes.
The young man stepped backwards in shock.
"Prussia?" she asked, blinking away the tears in her eyes. "What are you doing here?"
He couldn't respond, nearly ready to fall to the floor now.  Had Italy done this on purpose?  No, he couldn't have.
"I- I…" He shook his head to gather his thoughts.  "Why are you here, Hungary?  I was supposed to see Italia-chan." She seemed confused.
"It is not important why I am here," she said sadly, holding the flower that normally adorned her brown hair.  She was wearing her traditional folk dress.  Prussia found himself blushing.  He coughed lightly and pointed toward the door.
"Well, then I should be going.  I don't want to keep Italia-chan waiting, wherever he is." He turned to leave, but then heard Hungary release a sob. "What's wrong?" he finally stammered.  She glared at him rather coldly.
"That is my business, Prussia!" she exclaimed, meaning to be harsh, though her voice was soft.  A long silence ensued.  Then, "I didn't think you'd really come."  Prussia's eyebrow lifted slightly into the air.  He groaned inwardly.  What had Italy done? "He promised me that you would be here, but when I came you weren't here, and then I waited for a little while before thinking about what has happened and…" her words drifted off, the thought never to be completed.
He laughed lightly.  "Would you hit me with your frying pan if I stay?" She turned and turned her nose up at him in anger, though he was serious.  Then she sighed.
"No."
He walked over and sat down on the arm of the chair, since there was nowhere else to sit.  He was afraid to admit it, but he would have rather sit there than anywhere else. "Sometimes," he began, looking down at the frying pan resting against the chair, "the world can be cold and hard, like your frying pan." He lifted it up delicately and showed it to her.  "But there is always someone who can make things feel right again.  You just have to wait for them.  Sometimes," he added, trying not to hint at what he meant, "the person that is hit hardest with the frying pan turns out lasting longer and going farther."
Hungary sighed and raised an eyebrow in question.  "Are you talking about what happened when we were kids?  Because if you are, I'll take back what I said earlier." He set the frying pan down and blushed furiously.
"No, no!  I just meant-"
Suddenly, Hungary's lips were pressed to his and he was staring into her green eyes.  For the moment he was motionless, relishing in what he and this girl shared.  Her lips were silky smooth and drifted over his with fragility and gracefulness.  Prussia closed his eyes and his hand drifted up to Hungary's face.  He brushed aside her hair and then smiled, breaking the kiss accidentally.  Hungary drew away and a warm pink shade grew wider and darker on her cheeks.
"I- um…" Prussia began.  Hungary turned away, tucking her flower back behind one ear.  She started for the door, but then turned back around and came very close to Prussia's face.  Her eyes were deep with feeling.
"If you speak a word of this to anyone, you will have better luck with my frying pan than me." He nodded rapidly, and watched her leave, darting out the door and closing it behind her.  Prussia fell back into the chair and sighed, smiling giddily.
"Hungary," he murmured.
The chick on his head peeped, as if ready to proclaim what had happened to Italy, who Prussia had seemingly forgotten all about.