A/N: Sooo, I wrote this fic up during various states of coherency – exhaustion, drunkenness, etc. You have been warned. I dedicate it to my pervy friends, Cassi and Al. All mistakes are mine, though I tried to catch most of them. This part is rated PG-13 because my Prussia seems to have a potty mouth; later parts will probably be M. Human names sometimes used. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Sugar

Spain sometimes frightened Prussia. He wasn't as batshit insane crazy like he used to be, but he still could scare the hell out of Prussia. Spain – outwardly, anyway- was one of those easy going, lazy types: not quite in line with the rest of the world, since the downfall of his empire. A step behind, so to speak. In some ways, they were very much alike, pining after former glories and all. At least Spain still had a place to call his own. Prussia lived in Germany's basement. It was a nice basement, mind you! Still…

Spain confused him. He never knew what was going on in that head of his. He'd seen France run circles around him, seen him trick him right out of his clothes (and it was so damn easy!), and Spain seemed happily oblivious to it all. But was he? Sometimes he caught Spain staring at him like he'd never seen him before. He stared at him like he was the only person in the world, like he was the only one that mattered. Sometimes Spain would touch him – a hand on the shoulder, a slap on the back and these were all friendly – but other times, the touch was startlingly intimate, such as a caress of his face or a kiss on the forehead. This was all strange to Prussia. France sometimes looked at him that way, but he often stared at other countries (all right – every country) in the same way.

When Spain looked at him in that way, Prussia didn't know how to feel. Prussia was a bit of a people watcher (stalker). Spain didn't look at France that way. He sometimes looked at Romano in that way. But whenever Spain was alone with Prussia, eventually that gaze would be fixed upon him. Now, Prussia was pretty damn awesome – so awesome that he was above silly things like 'relationships' and 'love.' Besides, deep down inside of him, he knew that such things didn't last very long. Why get involved in something so meaningful if it wasn't meant to last? So, Prussia always came up with excuses or distractions, something to get that look out of Spain's eyes. It could be pathetically easy, too. ("Oh, look, Spain – a turtle!")

Even when Prussia was with Spain and France, Prussia felt that weird, vaguely fear-like emotion clawing at him. France normally had his hands down Spain's trousers in an instant, with Prussia watching nearby. (Really, there were better things they could always be doing…) Spain had this annoying habit of looking at him, looking right at him, even as France kissed him. That made Prussia's heart do something weird…and it kind of hurt. So, that's why Spain scared him. He didn't understand him. What Prussia did not understand, he feared. Didn't that happen to lots of people, though? He was too awesome to show such fear, though.

It was getting harder trying to avoid him and all the strange emotions his…nearness seemed to cause. He was knocking on Germany's door nearly every day, usually for something stupid. ("I need to borrow an egg!" or "I left my shoe over here!" Stupid. And how the hell did he get over here so fast, anyway?) Finally, Prussia had had enough. Spain was up there, banging on the door. "I just want to visit! Only for a little while!" Prussia marched up the stairs (he interrupted his viewing of his favorite pony show) and threw the door open.

"What the hell do you want?" he said. Spain looked at him, with those wide, green eyes and smiled. He was always smiling and that annoyed the hell out of him sometimes.

"Gilbert!" He always seemed to use his 'real' name these days. "Is Francis here?"

"No. You aren't here for him. Why are you here?" Prussia's hand gripped the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles were white. Spain laughed.

"Um, got any sugar I can borrow?" What?

"No. You aren't here for that, either. Why. Are. You. Here?"

"I really need some sug—ack!" Spain made a funny choking noise when Prussia wrapped his hand around his neck, yanked him through the door way, and shoved him up against the nearest wall. He wasn't looking so damn smug and confident now, was he? In fact, he was looking kind of anxious and frightened. Ha. Fear Prussia's awesomeness. Though…a small part of him felt a little ashamed to cause that emotion to flash through Spain's eyes. Spain was never frightened. Spain was obnoxiously fearless. ("Hey, let's jump off this cliff into the ocean!~")

"Tell me why you are here. Cut the crap, Spain. You are here every damn day and it's not for eggs, for shoes, for SUGAR, or-or for any other of those ridiculous reasons. Tell me what you want!"

Spain squeaked out something and that only made Prussia's fury grow. "SAY SOMETHING!" Prussia said and shook the Spaniard a few times for emphasis. And then Spain started to laugh. Laugh. (Okay, laugh and choke…) He laughed (and choked) so hard that tears were rolling down his cheeks. "What the hell is so damn funny?" Prussia didn't like to be left out of jokes and he especially didn't like it if the joke was about him.

Tch. He had enough of this. Besides, he had his pony show on pause downstairs. The moment he released Spain, though, the man made his move. How easily he seemed to reverse their positions. Spain shoved him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from Prussia's lungs. He was still chuckling, even as he rubbed his wet cheek against his. Dammit. Maybe he was still batshit insane crazy.

"W-what the hell?" Prussia said and he winced at the embarrassing squeak. He didn't squeak. He was Prussia, dammit! Prussians don't squeak! (They roar like lions! ROAR!)

"I think you know why I'm here," Spain said. His voice was strangely soft and Prussia swallowed thickly when he felt Spain's tongue lick the curve of his ear. Oooh, that kinda felt nice and his knees did this quivering sort of thing. Yeah, this felt nice…No. No, it didn't. Dammit! He was…he was too awesome to feel this way! YEAH. Wasn't he?

"S-stop that. Stop! Spain, what the hell is your problem?" Prussia's heart was hammering and he didn't know why. Spain pressed his forehead to his and smiled. His eyes had that look. The look that had his heart doing something funny.

"I've seen the way you look at me, Gilbert."

"You are the one always shooting me the weird looks!" he protested, bucking against him. "Get off of me!"

But Spain only pulled him firmly into his arms. He hugged him tightly and sighed, sounding ridiculously happy. He was so warm. So warm. Amazing how a hug could make him feel so much. Prussia would never admit it, but he kind of liked Spain's hugs. Just a bit.

"What do you want?" Prussia felt trapped and he was confused as hell. What did Spain want? Why did he always look at him that way? Was it just lust? (Ha, Prussia knew he was hot as hell. He was awesome like that, after all.) Or…was it something else? If it was something else…

Spain murmured something in Spanish and stroked his back gently. No, he wasn't going to Spanish his way out of this one. "What do you want, Spain?"

"Aren't you lonely?" Spain said finally, his arms tightening just a bit. "Aren't you lonely, Gilbert?"

Prussia's first instinct would be to shove him away, to laugh and call him stupid for thinking that he, the Great and Most Awesome Prussia, could ever be lonely. But Spain had this way with his words – he could speak with such a horrid gentleness. His words worked through his barriers and he closed his eyes. Of course he was lonely. He lived in his kid brother's basement! He was a shadow of his former self, a parasite – a leech and he hated it. Hated. But most of all, he hated the loneliness. He could never let other countries get too close, even when he was at the height of his power. He could have had it all then, but fear of the unknown kept him distant. Now it was too late. Who would want anything to do with a disposed, penniless, former country? Prussia wasn't feeling so awesome anymore…

"What if…what if I am?" he said and laughed roughly. "Not anything you can do about it."

"Why do you run, Prussia?" Spain said. "You…you don't have to run, not from me. I…I…"

Now he was stuttering over his words? The always smooth-talking Spain? (And what the hell? He wasn't running!) Prussia's irritation made a quick return. "Spit it out, dammit."

"So crass, Gilbert," Spain chided gently and pulled back slightly to gaze down upon him with those stupid, stupid…and really green eyes. His eyes were really green. He had never really noticed before, but then again, he never had Spain so damn close. His face was still wet from all that laughing (choking) from earlier, too. Prussia felt a little funny when a blush spread across Spain's cheeks. What the hell was he thinking? (Probably something gross and un-awesome.) His fingers came to toy with a button on his shirt. "I could keep you company."

Prussia laughed and it was hard and biting. "K-keep me company? Keep me company? You really are a few fries short of a happy meal, aren't you?" (Take that, a super Americanism! HA, he was awesome.)

Hurt flashed through his eyes and he smiled tightly. But then he just looked sad. Really sad. And it was all his fault. He had to tear his eyes away from him, for a strange emotion – guilt, maybe? – clawed at him. When Spain spoke next, his voice was quiet. "I…I am lonely too, you know."

What the hell did he know about loneliness? He was Spain, country of passion! Everyone loved him. But, he could remember when this was not the case. There was a time when the mere mention of the Reino de España would strike fear into the hearts of any country. Spain was a ruthless tyrant back in the day: bloody and merciless. He took what he wanted and destroyed what he didn't. (Amazing how he could be so happy and nice these days...) Just as quickly as his bloody empire was built, though, it was whittled away. Spain had been beaten down, left to scramble after the rest of Europe, and then his boss's sympathy towards Germany's boss and his cause had him shunned for a long time. A little dictatorship or two didn't help the country. But he had gained a foothold in Europe again. He was getting stronger. Prussia had nothing. He had been torn down, never to be rebuilt again.

Maybe…though, maybe he could relate to Spain in some way. He understood what it was like…to have been so strong, to have been mighty (and awesome!)…only to have everything taken away. And it was kind of nice having someone actually confess a desire to spend time with him. He had always gone to everyone else. No one had ever come to him. The realization made him swallow, hard, and his heart…well, it started to beat even faster. "Do you use that line often?" he said, trying to sound sharp or irritated, but his voice was strangely soft. "K-keep me company? Stupid. I'm Prussia. I don't need – mmph!"

Stupid twit kissed him then.

Prussia felt so damn frazzled and out of control that he didn't know what to make of this new sensation. Spain's lips were gentle, soft, but not insistent. He didn't lay into him, didn't force him down. There was still room to escape. If he wanted to, that is. (He would escape if it lasted too long! Ha!) He simply stood, as still as possible, as Spain kissed him. That had better not been his tongue he felt sliding against his lips…even if it felt…even if…"Prussia. I want to…keep you company. I want to spend time with you." When had Spain stopped kissing him? (And whyyy?)

"Huh?" he said intelligently and Spain smiled. Wait, shouldn't he be angry about this kiss? Shouldn't he? But it only made him confused. "Why? What do you want to do?"

Spain's eyes darkened then and that look was back. He sounded a little breathless when he spoke next. "Because I'm good company. And I want to…I want to…t-t…show you…erm…" God, he really was a pervert, wasn't he? Prussia started to push him away.

"If you only want that from me, take a hike," he said. He wasn't going to be used and thrown away.

"No!" Spain said and seized him, wrapping him up in his arms again. "Gilbert…I really want to spend time with you. We don't even have to…we don't…" He struggled and sighed deeply. "Can I keep you company? If only for one day? Can't I stay with you? I don't…I don't like seeing you lonely. You don't deserve it. I could keep you company. We could…we could talk about how awesome you are!"

Spain laughed awkwardly then and continued to hold onto him like he was going to slip away in an instant. Hm, he really wanted to keep him company, then? And was he being honest? He didn't like seeing him lonely? Prussia had always thought he did an awesome job masking his loneliness. As long as he kept himself occupied with things like harassing Austria, blogging, or eating pancakes…it wasn't so bad. No. It really wasn't! He only had to tell himself that a thousand times a day. Spain had sounded so damn sincere that Prussia wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him…but he was afraid. He wasn't so afraid of Spain anymore, per se. He was afraid of all these emotion-thingies (yeah, that's a real phrase!) that welled up inside of him. Prussia had never been kissed, he'd never been held like this, and he'd never have someone tell him…Dammit. He wanted this. Whatever this was. He wanted someone to spend time with him. (Germany spent time with him, yes, but that's because they were obligated to do so. Family and all.) Spain said he wanted to be with him. Could he really take that chance?

"You aren't…you aren't messing with me, are you? It's not outta pity? I don't do pity, Spain," he managed.

"No. Why would I mess with you, Gilbert? Why would I come all this way if I didn't want to be with you? You know how far away I live? Takes me hours to get here," he rambled. "Prussia, I want to spend time with you because of you, because of who you are, not out of pity."

What the hell did that mean? He sounded so stupidly honest that Prussia felt more of his resistance crumbling away. "One day, then. No strings attached." Spain already had him tied up in little knot, but he'd never know that. Prussia had to try and maintain some control of whatever was happening between them.

"No strings attached!" Spain said and squeezed him tightly. "T-thank you. You won't regret it! I'm good company!" (Ha, he had better be…wait! Ugh, when he did he start thinking those kinds of thoughts?)

"All right, tomatoes. That's enough," he said gruffly and Spain finally released him. He was smiling stupidly again and ruffled his hair.

Prussia batted his hand away and marched towards the staircase. Spain simply stared at him, unmoving. "Sugar's in the basement," he said and he damned the stupid (awesomely manly!) blush that crept up his face.

Spain failed to take the hint, though. Did he really have to spell it out for him? "But I don't need any sugar…" Spain said and cocked his head to one side.

"Spain. Really? Look, I was watching something important so either stand there and look stupid or come down to the basement with me."

He could see the gears turning inside of his head, but they weren't going fast enough. "I really didn't come over here for sugar. I came because -."

"I know why you came! My room is in the basement. We can continue our discussion on how fantastically awesome I am down there. Comprende?"

"Ooooh," he said and nodded. He walked towards the staircase and paused alongside him. Then, he sort of waggled his eyebrows, a la France, and leered at him. "Hey, Gilbert. You can still give me some of your sugar a little later, if you know what I mean."

WHAM.

"Ouch, you didn't have to hit me!" When Spain fell forward, clutching his stomach in pain, Prussia grabbed him, hauled him over one shoulder, and then started down the stairs. "Oh, this is kinda sexy, Prussia! Didn't know you were this strong. Ouch! Don't pinch me! Oh, hey, nice room! Oooh, nice bed. We should go test it ou—PONIES! I love this shoooow!"

And that's how they spend much of their day. It wasn't so bad, either, spending this time with Spain. There wasn't that awkward tension between them and Spain never looked at him that way, though Prussia would catch him staring over at him. He felt 'normal' around Spain again. He also discovered that Spain was a kick-ass cook. Who knew tomatoes could taste like that? He even got Spain to eat some of his cooking, though he saw him blanch out of the corner of his eye a few times. He was a good guest and ate everything on his plate. (His threats helped, too.)

But then the day gave way to the night and Prussia knew this was all going to end. He watched the credits roll up the screen from their latest pony movie and sighed. Spain had disappeared a moment ago, probably to use the bathroom. Prussia spent some time trying to work up to the words he knew he'd have to say. ("Hey, it was nice, but…") He stood and switched off the television. And then he turned around.

"S-Spain? What the hell are you doing?"

Spain was struggling out of his tee shirt, having planted himself firmly on the bed. He smiled sleepily towards him and dropped the shirt to the ground. "I'm sleepy," he said simply. Shit. If Spain's head hit that mattress, there was no way Prussia was going to be able to get him off his bed. Spain slept like a damn rock.

"Go upstairs! Germany has a ton of empty rooms you can use! Better yet, go home!"

"B-but I really like this room…and I really like this bed," he said and stretched languidly. "And you said we can spend the day together…the whole day."

"Oh, if you want to play that game, sure. I'll roll you out of bed at midnight."

"You'll sleep with me, then, Gilbert?"

Oooh, no. He wouldn't let him twist his words around. "I said no strings attached!" he said furiously, his face reddening. Spain just looked at him for a moment, brain obviously slowly processing his words, and then he yawned.

"No strings attached, I know. Jus'…just wanna sleep, that's all." Then, he rubbed his eyes and Prussia's mind frizzled. He felt his eyebrow twitch. No. No, resist the urge. 'Cute' and 'Spain' couldn't ever be in the same sentence together. Yes, he knew Spain was good looking. Who didn't? He acknowledged this universal truth. Prussia also enjoyed all things cute, but Spain…He'd never seen him like this – sleepy-eyed and shirtless and looking so utterly content and happy. It made his stomach twist into knots, to know that maybe (just maybe!) Spain was happy and content because of him.

"A-all right," he said before he could stop himself. "You keep to one side of the bed! I don't do that cuddling shit or anything." He was above such things as cuddling.

"Thank you!~" Spain cheered and immediately ripped his trousers off, threw them aside, and snuggled into the pillows.

"Oi! Keep your damn pants on, Spain!" Prussia cried. It was too late, though. Spain's body relaxed the moment his head hit the pillow. "Shiiit." He could never sleep with a pant-less Spain.

He spent the next two hours avoiding his bed. He cleaned his room, surfed the internet, and played pong on his Atari. He did anything to keep his mind off pant-less Spain and his bed invasion. He would mindless wander around the room and then he would clean some more. He had folded Spain's clothing carefully and set them on the nightstand…and he finally looked down at Spain. Amazing how someone could look so damn peaceful. He had shifted and turned in his sleep. His mouth hung open slightly and one arm was flung over his eyes while the other clutched at a nearby pillow. Worst of all, the band of his boxers had ridden low on his hip. He looked…he looked so…and every inch of his skin (that he could see) was tanned…how…?

Prussia had to go bang his head on the wall for good long moment, just to get those thoughts out of his mind. Stupid Spain blissfully slept through it all. Prussia watched him some more, from a distant. He considered his bedroom options. One. He could sleep in the same bed as Spain. Two. He could go and sleep on the couch. Three. He could go take one of the extra rooms up stairs. Four. He could sleep on the floor. Five. He could not sleep at all.

Options two and three would open him up to some awkward questioning by his brother. He wasn't willing to deal with that. He didn't know how Germany would feel, knowing that Spain spent the night. Option five was appealing but he was starting to get a headache from the lack of sleep. (Or maybe it was all that head banging…) Option four sounded too painful. So he was left with option one. Sleep in the same bed as Spain. Maybe…it wasn't such a bad idea. Spain, after all, slept like a rock. Prussia approached the bed slowly. What was he so worried about? It could be nice, sharing a bed with someone else. Prussia was always willing to try something new, after all!

He kept all of his clothing on though (less risk) and gingerly climbed over the sleeping brunette. He stretched out on the mattress as far away as he could, his back facing Spain. And he just stared at the wall and listened to Spain breathe. He was so wound up that he jumped when the evitable happened. Spain's hand touch his back and his fingers twisted into his clothing.

"Ne, Prussia…too many clothes on," he said sleepily. He doubted Spain was actually awake. He tried to pretend he was asleep, but the Spain's arm slipped around to hold him.

"I-I said no strings…" Prussia said, shoving at his arm. He felt the bed shift slightly and then Spain pressed up against his back and his arm was back around him.

"Don't have any strings," he mumbled. "Lemme hold you, Gilbert. Please…"

How could Spain be so damn warm? His body felt like it was radiating heat and he could feel it, straight through his clothing. His breathing was still slow and even. Prussia felt his forehead press against the back of his neck. Strangely…he didn't find this so terrible. Spain held him tightly and it felt nice (so, so nice) to be this close to someone else, to have someone hold onto him like he meant something.

"Please, Gilbert," Spain whined softly again. Prussia couldn't resist now. He twisted around and wrapped his arms around his body. Spain hummed happily and snaked his arms around, sighing deeply. Prussia's face was pressed awkwardly to his chest – his naked chest – and he hoped that all this heat Spain was giving off would mask the heat rolling off his face…

Spain's hands smoothed over his back. "Can I take your shirt off?" he mumbled suddenly. "Kinda itchy."

"No."

"…you'll feel better with your shirt off." He felt his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt.

"Spain?"

"Hmm?"

"I will roll you off of this bed if you don't shut up and sleep."

Spain simply chuckled and Prussia ignored that brush of lips to his brow. He'd better not be getting any funny ideas. Finally, he felt his body relax against his and it didn't take long at all. Prussia had thought he would be completely…anxious, skittish, frightened…of this sort of thing, but he found it easy to close his eyes. He found it easy to rest his cheek on Spain's chest, to listen to his heart thud slowly, to relax...

Hm. Maybe this cuddling shit wasn't so bad after all. He'd have to write about this…put in the awesome category…

Maybe.