This was originally written on the Hetalia kink meme and is a response to a prompt that just asked for anything with Fritz/Prussia.

ELEVENTH HOUR

Prussia could hear words. He didn't understand them, but the voice was familiar.

As he tried to focus on what was being spoken, he slowly became aware of the strange, floaty feeling in his limbs. Had he fallen asleep on one of Austria's sissy couches? It certainly felt soft enough, but how come Hungary had let him sleep and hadn't kicked his ass out? Maybe he was somewhere else after all, like at India's place. He had often passed out on the cushions after getting too liberal with the drinks India kept pushing into his hands.

Well, only one way to find out.

Prussia was more than used to the fact that on some mornings, it was difficult to open his eyes. Sometimes it was because he had spent the night partying with France and Spain, sometimes because he had been drinking alone in his room in Germany's basement and reading history books about himself, and sometimes just because. The point, however, was that that he always got his eyes open because he was Prussia and staying in bed would have meant failure.

Failure at what, he wasn't sure since it was too many years since he had last been at war and he didn't have any official duties anymore. But the fact remained that he got up every morning early enough to have a cup of coffee with Germany and to see him off to work, no exceptions – though sometimes he went straight back to bed after that and slept until noon, but that was a secret only Gilbird and Germany's dogs knew.

That was why he was surprised by how much of a struggle it was to open his eyes this time. It was as if something was calling for him to fall back asleep and forget that he had ever been aroused by those words. And part of him was actually considering giving in, like it was somehow natural.

Yeah, right. Fuck that and onwards.

When he finally won the battle, he couldn't really describe it as actually opening his eyes. It was more like his surroundings gradually appeared around him, like he had just been standing in the dark and light was now pouring inside through the window as the sun climbed up.

The first thing he focused on was Germany. He was sitting by someone's bed and reading a comic book out loud. His shoulders were hunched and his voice unusually subdued, but what surprised Prussia more was the fact that the comic book was his.

"You could at least buy you own if you're going to go around reading them," he muttered as he recognised the book as the latest volume of Red-Haired Snow White. "Hey, West! That's mine! Go buy your own girly comics! Look, you're bending it so wide that there's an ugly line along the spine!"

But Germany didn't even acknowledge him. That in itself was nothing out of the ordinary since he often tended to tune out what Prussia was saying to him, but usually he at least bothered to glance at him in irritation or stopped whatever he was doing for a moment. But not this time. He just kept reading the comic, as if Prussia wasn't even there.

"And you don't have to read it out loud, you know. You woke me up," Prussia continued, but he realised why Germany was doing it as soon as his attention drifted to the bed.

There was someone lying on it. His skin was sickly pale and grey, half of his scalp was covered in bandages and what little hair was peeking through hung as a lifeless mop. An IV slithered along his arm. The sight was so pitiful that it took Prussia a moment to recognise the gorgeous, manly features as his own. Once he did, he took a surprised step back, or at least tried to.

He suddenly realised that he wasn't standing on the floor. He was in fact hovering about a meter and a half above it. For a moment he couldn't decide what was confusing him more, the fact that he had learned to fly, that he of all nations had somehow ended up in such a pathetic state, or that he could watch himself without a mirror.

"Holy hell," he muttered and decided to focus on the most alarming fact, namely that he had somehow landed in hospital even though he was too awesome for that. "What happened? Was there a new war?"

Probably not. Germany looked alright enough. Prussia couldn't imagine going to any war in which he wouldn't be on the frontlines with his brother, so that couldn't be it. Besides, if there had been a war, Germany wouldn't have the time to sit by his bedside and read comics from Japan's house to him.

He floated closer to the bed to get a better look at his face. He sure looked like crap, and he got the feeling that he hadn't been out of that bed in a while. Just how long had this been going on?

"This is stupid," he said and kicked at his sleeping face to try to make his body wake up. His foot went straight through his skull without him feeling a thing. He figured it was just as well since his kicks were always tough as steel and he didn't really want to make his face look any shittier.

"Well, aren't you going to come down from there?"

"What, and stop flying when –"

He almost choked on his words and whirled around, for a split second believing that he had recognised the voice and then bracing himself for the inevitable disappointment. He hadn't heard that voice in centuries, other than in his dreams, but his imagination could never quite imitate the tone, the way the words rolled off his tongue or the hint of amusement that was always there when he was toying with him.

This time it was perfect. Every bit of it. But it couldn't be.

Frederick was standing on the floor, looking up at him with the slightest smile playing with the corners of his mouth. Prussia had missed that smile so much that after a while he had convinced himself that it hadn't been that special, just because it was so painful to know that he'd never see it again.

He wanted to say something, but his mind was empty, and his throat was suddenly so tight that no words could have been forced out even if he had known what to say.

"It's always a rare treat to shock you into silence, but I suppose I had an unfair advantage this time," Frederick said. He stepped forward to take Prussia's hand and pulled him down to the floor.

The feeling of Frederick's hand in his wasn't enough to bring Prussia entirely back from his stupor, but at least he regained control over his tongue.

"Old man... Is it –?"

"Yes, it's me."

"But..."

Whatever logical objections Prussia had in mind, he realised he didn't care about them. If this was a dream, it was the most realistic one he had had in the years after Frederick's death, and he was going to enjoy it. If it wasn't a dream... He didn't dare let his thoughts wander too far into that direction.

He grabbed Frederick's arms and threw himself against him. He ignored the surprised sound that escaped the other's throat and buried his face into the uniform he was wearing. This was usually the part in which his dreams ended and he woke up, angry and frustrated and eyes stinging, but this time he was greeted with the familiar scent of coffee and champagne that he had only learned to like after Frederick's death. The body against his was real and warm.

"A good soldier doesn't cry," Frederick reminded him, even as his hands moved up to his shoulders to hold him close.

"I'm not crying!"

"Oh, so then you're smearing my uniform with tears and snot for fun? Even my dogs could behave better than that."

"I'm just testing you because I knew the real you would say that." Prussia clutched at him tighter and still refused to look up. "I don't care if you're a dream or a drunk vision or –"

"I already told you it's really me."

"But you're dead." He paused and raised his head to look at Frederick, remembering his body on the bed and feeling a chill travel down his spine. "...am I dead, too?"

"No, at least not yet."

"Shit, am I dying?" Prussia pulled away from Frederick's arms and turned to look at the bed. He could see his chest fall and rise, which calmed him down somewhat, but the ashen shade of his face and how... limp he looked weren't equally reassuring. "Is that why you're here? Did you come to take me away?"

"That depends on you."

"What do you mean?"

Frederick came to stand by his side to look at the body on the bed. "You've been in a coma for two weeks. The others aren't sure if you're ever going to wake up."

"But I can't die! I'm a nation! Our kind doesn't just drop dead! We –"

A weight settled in his stomach before he could finish. Not because he wasn't technically a nation anymore. He was used to that and had mostly accepted it. He was content with letting Germany run the country and be good at it because in some ways, it was like watching someone build a great house on the foundations he had laid. Brotherly pride was more comfortable of an emotion than jealousy or bitterness.

"Hey, Fritz. I should probably tell you something."

"What is it?"

"Prussia is... uh, it's sort of gone. As in, it's not on the map anymore and all the land now belongs to someone else, like that stupid Poland. I'm no longer a kingdom."

He waited nervously for a reaction. Frederick had done so much for his kingdom and had served it at the cost of his dreams. He had accomplished so much, but all that was left now was words in history books.

"I know," Frederick said. "I've been watching."

Prussia didn't know whether to be relieved or not. This saved him from having to explain everything, but it also meant Frederick had seen all the moments he wasn't proud of, like how his name had been disgraced by the national socialists and what had happened in East Germany.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, hating the sudden weakness of his voice. "I know I promised I'd make it last forever, but I blew it. You don't hate me, right?"

"No, of course not."

"But it wasn't even in battle. It was politics!"

He swallowed and tried to will his eyes to stop burning. It was decades since he had last cried for his kingdom. He missed it, but he was over it and knew that even if he had tried, he alone wouldn't have been able to stop any of what had happened.

But that didn't mean it was easy to face the man who had made him what he was and admit that everything was gone. They had ridden together to battle, spent nights hunched over maps or discussing politics and envisioned how to make the country better and stronger. All of it was now swept off the table.

He forced himself to look at Frederick and try to read his face. He didn't care if he was angry. He had been furious at him countless times, and the officers had often described their yelling matches as fiercer than any battle they had ever been in. But if Frederick was disappointed, if he thought that he was a failure, he might not be able to take it.

Frederick was smiling. He took a step closer and reached to wipe away the tears that had spilled despite Prussia's strong resolve.

"No empire lasts forever," he said. "And even though they used to tell me I thought too highly of myself, I'm not so arrogant that I think mine would be an exception. I wish it hadn't ended like that, but I'm not going to blame you for something that wasn't your fault."

Prussia wanted to melt into Frederick's touch. "And at least I was the best," he said with a relieved chuckle. "The others may still have their countries, but they can never be as good as I was! Haha, I guess it's great that I lost everything because otherwise everyone else would have developed such an inferiority complex that the world would have stopped working."

"You're still good," Frederick said, and Prussia knew he wasn't lying. False compliments had never been his style. It had often been hard enough to get a genuine one out of him.

He moved to wrap his arm around Frederick's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. He placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and laughed. "I know! I'm the best!"

For a moment, he didn't know what else to say. Relief and happiness were bubbling inside him, and he held a little tighter onto the body against his. He could hardly believe that Frederick was there after all those years, that he wasn't disappointed in him and that he had one more chance to tell him how much he meant to him. All of his dreams had come true.

And he was just like in his fondest memories. Prussia had always thought Frederick had been the most handsome when middle-aged. His eyes had held wisdom that had made him appear less like a child next to an immortal being, but the years hadn't yet painted his face with lines that would remind him of the fact that every breath he took brought them closer to the inevitable.

"Hey, Fritz," he said as he suddenly remembered something. "Look, that's West. He's Germany and my kid brother. Too bad you never got to meet him because he's an amazing guy."

"I know. I'd expect nothing less from someone raised by you."

"Yeah, I totally aced being a brother even though it was my first time raising someone. You should say hello to him while you're here."

"He can't see or hear us."

"I guess that's just as well. West would totally freak out if he knew that the most awesome king in history was here to see him when looks like shit." Hell, now that he was paying more attention, he was pretty sure that Germany hadn't ironed that shirt he was wearing. Unbelievable.

"He's worried about you."

"Yeah, that reminds me. What were you saying about me earlier? Am I going to die?"

"That's for you to decide. Since you aren't a nation anymore, there is nothing tying you to this world. You can either go back and wake up or come away with me."

"What, I get to decide? Is that common? I mean, other than in suicide cases?"

"No, but you can take that as a special privilege if you wish to."

Prussia turned to look at himself on the bed and pursed his lips. The thought of death was occasionally on his mind, but he had figured that if he had survived a dissolution and a reunification, it would have to be some damn strong stuff that killed him. Maybe the third world war. Slipping away in coma was not how he had imagined or wanted it.

"What happened anyway? Was I in a fight? Must have been thirty against one if they knocked me out like this, huh?"

Frederick's chuckle was dry. "You were out drinking and when you came back, you slipped in the bathroom and hit your head on the toilet."

"No way! You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"It's not like it's the first time it has happened. I can't remember how many times I was wondering where you were and when I sent someone to find you, they found the great Prussia unconscious in the outhouse, sometimes with your pants around your ankles."

"That was totally different!"

"How?"

"I didn't land in a coma!"

Prussia tried to grab the feet of his body and pinch himself as a punishment for getting into this shit, but like last time, his hand passed right through.

"Fuck," he muttered. "But I guess it was worth it. At least I got to see you again. And that reminds me, what is the afterlife like? Which religion was right? Or were they all wrong?"

"That's not something I'm allowed to tell you for as long as you're alive."

"Why not? Come on, it's mankind's burning question number one! I want to know!"

"That's exactly why I can't tell you. The living could do terrible things with such information."

"Oh, like they haven't been murdering each other for centuries even without it. I should know, I was originally born for that purpose!"

"Regardless, I can't tell you, so please stop whining. Instead, you should start thinking about your decision."

Right, the decision. He let go of Frederick and turned his attention back towards the bed so that he could have a moment to think. He quickly realised that even if he had a decade to think, he might not be able to make a decision like that. How was he supposed to choose?

"I can't make a decision like this."

"I thought you'd love having all the power in your hands. Weren't you always saying that you hate it when others tell you what to do?"

"Yeah, but..."

He did hate it. He hated how he was reduced to sitting at home and waiting for Germany to come back from work and how going out with friends always depended on their schedules, not his because he didn't have any need for one. There were times when he was sure that the others didn't respect him, that they only saw him as a basement-dweller who drank beer and played video games all day. The skills that he was the best at and liked the most were no longer needed in Europe, and he often got the impression that he wasn't either.

He was sure everyone was wondering why he was still there, but most of them were too polite to say it out loud. Hell, he wondered why he was still around occasionally. If he went with Frederick, he would never have to ask that question again.

It would be an end to a lot of things. No more feeling like an outsider as he watched Germany and Italy hurry through their breakfast before jumping into the car and driving to the airport. No more having to acknowledge the fact that Austria had a country and an army, hell, that was so fucking unfair. Nobody would ever again tell him that they couldn't go out with him because they were busy.

He would get to be with Frederick. It wouldn't be just this fleeting moment, he would be with him forever. He would no longer have to feel bitter about the fact that the man he had loved the most had been taken away. He would be dead, yeah, but was that really such a bad thing? His life had become stagnant, so wouldn't death with the man he loved be more dignified than clinging to an existence that no longer held its original purpose?

The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Yeah, why stick around when he could be discovering something new? Death didn't have to be the end; in this case, it would be the beginning!

"Is there beer in the afterlife?" he asked.

"Is that really what interests you the most about it?"

"Well, sex is a close second. If I can have that and beer and you and maybe a good fight every now and then, I won't need anything else."

Frederick chuckled. "Alcohol, sex, homosexuality and violence don't make for a very traditional image of the afterlife for someone who was born as a religious order."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. But does that mean we can't have them?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah, well do you think I'd like the afterlife?"

There was a brief pause. "Yes, I think you would."

Prussia groaned at the mysterious smile on Frederick's lips. "You aren't going to be any more specific than that, are you?"

"No, telling you anything more isn't allowed, and it would be unfair. I shouldn't try to persuade you either way in your decision."

"Sending you of all people here to tell me all this is persuasive enough. Why didn't they send someone else, like some guy I don't even know?"

"Because then it would be unfair the other way."

Prussia was about to say that he had no idea what Frederick meant by that, but then his attention was caught by Germany closing the comic book and placing it on the bedside table. In his excitement, he had momentarily forgotten that his brother was in the room, but now he couldn't turn his eyes away.

If he went with Frederick, he would have to leave Germany behind. Maybe he'd get to come back as a ghost, but if Italy was to be believed, it wasn't all that common. Would Germany be okay without him? Sure, he was doing a good job running the country by himself, but what if something happened? If there was a catastrophe or a sudden new war, could he deal with it?

And could he deal without Germany? He had always been somewhat of a loner of a nation. Most of his alliances hadn't developed into friendships whereas almost all of his wars had resulted in rivalries. It had changed when he had found Germany. The around two centuries that he had had him by his side had taught him the satisfaction of caring about someone so much that he was willing to sacrifice anything for his sake. Even his love for Frederick had never managed to pull such selflessness out of him.

He frowned as he realised that he would miss France and Spain, too. Now that he thought about it, they actually went out drinking more often than ever before in history. The only reason it didn't feel like that was that he had so much free time.

And bugging Austria and getting beaten up by Hungary brought a welcome rhythm to his otherwise irregular life. Not to mention that he had promised Japan they'd finish the second season of that new anime together. And Finland still owed him a few drinks.

What kind of messed up shit was this, having to choose between the man he loved and all the people who were so important to him?

"I don't know," he said. "There are times when I feel like shit about my life, but it's not all that bad. Don't get me wrong, I've missed you like hell, but this is kind of sudden. How much time do I have to make this decision?"

"You can take all the time you need, but the longer it is, the worse your condition will get. After a while, you may not be able to go back after all."

Prussia exhaled in irritation. "Why do I have to choose anyway? If my time is up, why haven't I disappeared already?"

"I don't know," Frederick admitted, a touch of hesitation in his voice. "I don't know anything about what is normal for your kind. Maybe there's still something that ties you to this world but that isn't so strong that it would stop you from fading away if you hurt yourself badly enough."

"Well, that's reassuring," Prussia muttered. He kicked at the floor and placed his hands on his hips so that he wouldn't give in to the temptation to fiddle with them. He was beginning to realise that the choice he had to make was obvious, but he wasn't sure how he could put it into words.

He turned to nod towards Germany. "Look at him. He's such a kid. He can't even iron his shirt without me around."

Frederick didn't say a word, and Prussia couldn't bring himself to look at him. Part of him feared that if he had to see him now, he'd change his mind. But the awesome Prussia couldn't do that; his decisions were firm and right and certainly didn't cause him to tremble because it was so difficult to make them.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I can't leave him. I don't know if he even needs me anymore, but I don't want his last memory of me to be this." As he spoke, he pointed at his pathetic form on the bed and how Germany had moved his seat closer so that he could talk quietly to him, like he was afraid of someone hearing. If Prussia hadn't been feeling like he was tearing his heart into shreds with his own hands, he would have laughed at the fact that for Germany it was less awkward to read a girly comic book out loud than try to say something personal to his own brother.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I know," Frederick said. "I hoped, but I knew it's not your time yet. You're still needed by others."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It'll be easier for me in any case. I can watch you, but you can't see me."

"Yeah, but now that I know you aren't mad because of the kingdom, it's going to be so much easier for me, too! And I'll know you're there. It's totally stupid that I was ever worried about that in the first place, but –" Prussia drifted off as he noticed that the hand on his shoulder was squeezing tighter.

"What?" he asked, not liking the solemn expression on Frederick's face.

"I'm afraid that you aren't going to remember this conversation when you wake up."

"What? What bullshit is that? Why not? And don't give me any crap about how the living aren't supposed to know these things because you haven't told me anything useful! If I'm just going to forget everything, how come you can't reveal all the secrets of afterlife and universe to me?"

"It's not my decision," Frederick said.

"It's not fair!" Prussis shoved Frederick's hand away, feeling the need to be angry at someone and wanting to hurt him because he was hurting. The fact that Frederick wasn't at all affected by his little tantrum only added to his irritation. Just like he had said, it would be easier for him, so he could afford to be smug and reasonable.

"I know, but –"

"Why can't I just catch a break? Can't someone do some selective memory mumbo jumbo and just take out the bits that I can't know? Because I've missed you!" Prussia paused, panic squeezing his heart. "When I go back, I want to remember that you're not disappointed in me and that I'll see you again. Come on, can't someone arrange that for me?"

Frederick smiled sadly. "I would grant you that if I could, but it's not in my hands."

"Yeah, well whoever the hell is in charge of the afterlife just blew up their plan of not revealing anything to me because this is enough to convince me that they're an asshole! I bet the afterlife sucks!" Prussia turned towards the ceiling and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Fuck you!"

"You shouldn't view everything in such extremes. Maybe they think that you might remember some of this eventually if something triggers it. Letting you keep this memory of me would make that much more likely," Frederick suggested.

"Always so damn diplomatic," Prussia muttered. "But you think there's a chance that I might remember?"

"I don't know."

"I bet I'm going to remember everything in no time! Nothing can stop me from remembering things I like."

"I hope so. I would give you anything that might make your life a little easier. It pains me to watch you when you're miserable and I can't do anything about it." Frederick paused to think. "One thing I am disappointed in is that you haven't got together with anyone after my death even though I told you that you should."

"It's not my fault I haven't found anyone as good as you yet!" Plus, Hungary had made it obvious she didn't want him, so what was he supposed to do? Moving on would be like settling for the second prize, and that wasn't his style.

Frederick sighed and shook his head. "You're too stubborn. You aren't doing anyone any good like that."

"Okay, so can I add polygamy on my list of things I want in the afterlife? Because if I ever find someone worthy of me, you had better be up for a threesome when we come knocking."

"I have the feeling that I'll have more than enough time to think about that before it becomes relevant."

"Make it an orgy then because if I make it known that I'm on the market, everyone will line up to get me."

Prussia grinned at Frederick's exasperated expression, but it was harder than he had thought. No matter how much he joked, he couldn't forget the fact that he would have to go soon and that he would forget all of this – the relief, the happiness, the familiar scent, the way Frederick looked at him with those damn intense eyes of his.

It wasn't that it was a bad life he was returning to; he very much liked it. He would just be so much happier if he could bring all of this with him.

On a whim, he closed the distance between him and Frederick and caught him into a kiss, making him take a surprised step back.

Prussia was almost equally surprised because kissing Frederick was exactly like he remembered it. He didn't know what they were right now, but they certainly didn't possess physical bodies, and yet he could feel him like it was the 1740s all over again.

"What exactly are you doing?" Frederick asked after they had pulled apart.

"Being generous. I may not remember this, but you will." Prussia kissed him again, more gently than was usual for him. "I promise I'll come with you one day, but wait a little longer, okay?"

"I will."

"So, what now? How do I go back into my body?"

"You don't have to do anything. You've made your decision. It'll happen on its own."

Sure enough, even before Frederick was finished with his words, Prussia could feel himself beginning to slip away. Even though he was still holding him, he could no longer feel the fabric of Frederick's uniform or his hands on his hips. Near panic, he scrambled for one last kiss, but the feeling of drifting away overcame him. Before the rest of his senses were buried under numbing darkness, he was sure he could hear Frederick telling him that he loved him – in German, which made him want to smile because he knew how much Frederick hated speaking that language.

Germany didn't have to glance at his watch to know that it was time for him to go back home, but he kept his left wrist carefully hidden under his right hand so that he would have an excuse to stay just a little longer. Having his connections in the government meant that he could stay in the hospital long after the visiting hours were over, and he was using that privilege to his advantage as much as his schedule allowed him – and sometimes more, like right now.

The past two weeks had been a nightmare from the moment he had discovered Prussia in a pool of blood in the bathroom to this very second. He was used to blood, and he had seen Prussia with worse injuries over the years, but now he was so pale, so quiet and so unresponsive. No matter what they did, he wasn't waking up. The doctors had said it was out of their control, and after a while Germany had stopped pestering them. For now all they could do was to keep an eye on him in case he stopped breathing on his own.

They were all sure it wasn't just the injury that was keeping him unconscious. China had theorized that since he wasn't a nation anymore, he had just needed that one push to begin the process of fading away. It could have been anything.

The rational part of him knew that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. Even if he had found Prussia earlier or if he had waited for him to come home that night before going to bed, he could have got himself hurt in numerous other ways. Prussia had never had much of a sense of self-preservation, and Germany had the feeling that it had only got worse in the past few decades.

He had given barely any thought to the possibility that Prussia might be gone one day. His brother was so loud and visible that it was strange to imagine that he wouldn't always be there. Even when they had been separated by the Wall, Prussia had managed to make his presence know and had used every trick he could to get under his skin. There was also the fact that he had never witnessed a nation die before, so it had come as a more of a surprise to him than most of the others. Even Italy seemed to understand the situation better than him, and that was something Germany would have never expected.

"I have to go now," he said and fought with himself over whether he should take Prussia's hand. He had held it a few times, and on each occasion he had been sure that his brother's skin was getting colder. He wanted to warm it with his, but doing something like that made him feel so out of place. He wasn't supposed to be sitting by Prussia's bed and wishing for his recovery. There was something fundamentally wrong with the world when his invincible older brother was in this state.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he continued. Please be still here. You can't leave yet. I can't deal with everything alone. He wished he had had the courage to say all that out loud, but even now he found himself incapable of such words.

He grabbed his coat and cast one last look at Prussia before starting to throw it over his shoulders. He froze when he thought he could see his brother's fingers twitch. It was probably just the lengthening shadows, exhaustion and foolish hope playing tricks on him, but he still held his breath and waited to see if it would happen again.

It did. He was immediately on his knees by the bed, this time not hesitating to grab Prussia's hand.

"Prussia! Can you hear me?"

There was no response at first. After a while, Prussia's eyelids fluttered briefly but never fully opened. It was more than Germany had been expecting, more than he had dared to hope.

He should go and get the doctor, he knew. But he couldn't pull his hand away. He wanted to stay here and see everything. What if Prussia woke up while he was gone? He'd be all alone with no idea what had happened. If he had any strength left, he might tear out the IV and the catheter and hurt himself even more. And he was a nation, or at least a former one. If he was waking up it meant he wasn't dying, and that meant he didn't need doctors right away.

"Prussia?" he called out again.

This time Prussia finally opened his eyes, but Germany couldn't tell if he was actually seeing anything, even when he moved his head slightly to turn to look at him. But the movement alone was a great relief because it meant he had at least heard him and was reacting to his voice.

His vision was blurring, and he wiped at his eyes to clear it so that he wouldn't miss any of the signs of awareness from Prussia.

A faint sound tried to escape Prussia's throat, but Germany immediately hushed him into silence.

"No, don't talk. You probably can't. You haven't had anything to drink in two weeks. Just rest. It's all going to be fine now, I promise."

Prussia must have understood him because the next thing he did was frown in irritation. Germany couldn't help but laugh.

"I know, I know. A good soldier doesn't cry," he said, but he didn't even try to stop.