A/N: Last one for the Silence series! Maybe I'll finally be able to work again, after this…
I was going to wait to post this up, 'cause I feel like I've been spamming like crazy, but I was afraid I was going to forget to actually post it up if I waited to long so...yeah.
You know, I realized that the way I wrote the summary for And Actions Speak Louder Than Words, it should have actually been in Prussia's point of view more than Austria's…but it's too late for that. I'll make up for it right now, I guess. Timeline-wise this follows right after A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words, but can probably be read as a stand alone like the others. I think…
-NarutoKyuu

(Warnings~ uh…shonen-ai/slash (boyxboy), failed attempts at humor, coarse language, possibly incoherent sentences, and, as always, probably a little OOCness. Still getting a hang of the characters though I am told I'm better at this than I was a year ago.
Notes~ somewhat linked to Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid, And Actions Speak Louder Than Words, and A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words
Parings~ GermanyxItaly, PrussiaxAustria. SpainxRomano, if you squint.)
((Are disclaimers really necessary on a site like this?))

And Silence Is Golden

When Prussia had come to the realization that he had actually fallen in love with Austria, he was, for the first time in his life, at a complete loss of what to do. He had been so lost that he had even, for the briefest of moments and in his confusion, considered asking Germany for help. He was never able to express to himself how lucky he was that he had regained some sense before that actually happened. That would've been one hell of an awkward conversation. As a matter of fact, it probably wouldn't have even been a conversation to begin with. After days of lounging around being completely useless, he had finally come to the conclusion that he was just going to tell Austria, because what harm could it really do?

That was when he had found that there were really no words to encompass and convey his feelings, and he was stumped for all of one second because once he came to a decision, he was a nation of action and did whatever he had to to keep to that decision. So, he had shown Austria, after spending the day figuring out the best way to show him.

It was a complete success, and Prussia had actually been surprised, though he would never say it out loud. He had to maintain his image of immutable self-confidence, after all.

Then, after he had successfully convinced (begged) Austria to take him with him to meetings, it was like he had struck gold. Sure, he had issues with staying completely silent for such long periods of time, but it had been worth it. Firstly, he had finally gotten Austria to have sex with him. Secondly, he was actually allowed to go to meetings, as long as he stayed quiet. Thirdly, it had been extremely amusing to watch Austria actually become irritated with the lack of chaos and peace. Especially when Austria finally snapped and had willingly (willingly!) made out with him right there. That was awesome. It was even more awesome when Austria actually let him ravish him in some random closet after said incident. And that was when he somehow fell in love with Austria even more. Sure, Austria returned to his usual, prissy ways the next day, but Prussia found that, every once in a while, if he acted at the right moments, he could make that other, secret side of Austria appear every once in a while.

And the best thing about it? Austria had let all of it happen, with little to no arguments.

Prussia grinned up at the ceiling (of Austria's room, no less) before turning his head to look at what he could comfortably see of Austria, who was still fast asleep, curled up and resting more on Prussia than he was on the bed. His smile softened as he moved his arm (which Austria was utilizing as a pillow) so that he could run his fingers through messy, brown hair. He even dared to brush a couple of fingers over Mariazell and silently, mentally, cheered in victory – something he regularly did when he got away with doing things that Austria never let anyone else get away with – but, this victory was short-lived. Interrupting his private victory cheer, the phone rang. Loudly. This resulted in Prussia jerking his arm away and abruptly sitting up, which then resulted in Austria suddenly waking and hitting Prussia in the stomach as he tried to sit up as well.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he took a second to recollect the breath that had forcibly left him before he flung himself out of the bed to attack the phone, not bothering to find any clothes to throw on because, hey, it was just a phone call.

"What the hell do you want?" Prussia growled into the receiver as soon as he picked up.

An equally pissed off voice answered him. "Where the hell is Veneziano? He didn't come home last night and the stupid potato bastard isn't answering his phone! Since you're his brother and all I figured that you'd know, at least. I swear if something bad has happened to him…" Prussia blocked out the rest of Romano's curses that he could still clearly hear even as he held the phone a foot away from his ear.

Austria sighed and fell back against the bed before resignedly muttering, "We should go check on them."

"Like hell we should," Prussia grumbled as he slammed the phone back into its cradle before falling back into the bed.

Austria sat up again, already running his hands through his hair, trying to make it look more presentable. "I'm serious, Prussia."

"So am I. He's probably still sleeping, or something," he replied, ignoring the concern that was creeping up in the back of his mind.

Austria looked at him sternly. Do you listen to yourself when you talk?

"All right, fine!" Prussia hefted himself up again and started looking around for his clothes. "I still don't see what the problem is," he grumbled as he pulled on a pair of boxers before pants quickly followed. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to find his shirt. "It's not like West would actually let anything happen to Italy."

By the time Prussia found his shirt, Austria was already fully dressed and in the bathroom, properly fixing his hair. Austria just shrugged (Maybe something happened.) as Prussia looked at him, expecting a response.

Prussia grinned as he sat, pulling his boots on. "Hey, do you think–"

Austria cut him off before Prussia could finish. "No."

"You didn't even let me finish!" Prussia whined.

"You didn't have to finish," Austria stated as they left the room to quickly go to Germany's house – which Prussia felt was still a waste of time. But, well, they were already outside of the house so he couldn't do much about it.

Prussia frowned (it wasn't a pout, damn it, it was a frown) as he adjusted Gilbird's perch on his shoulder before asking, "So you really don't think–"

"No, I don't."

After a few moments passed, Prussia tried again. "Not even a–"

"No."

Prussia huffed and decided to spend the remainder of the walk in silent irritation, forget the fact that he had automatically held Austria's hand the second they left his house. Just because he was irritated didn't mean that he wanted the stupid aristocrat to get lost. Well, that's what he told himself, anyways, as he ignored the fact that Austria had never gotten lost on his way to Germany's house before. There was a first time for everything, right?

xxx

Germany thought that day was going to be a good day. He really did think that, when he had woken up to find Italy still securely wrapped in his arms, nowhere close to waking up. That was when he realized that he had been in such a deep sleep that he hadn't noticed the phone ringing.

Before he could worry over the fact that he hadn't woken up to the first ring and before he could even think about answering the phone, the answering machine picked up.

And suddenly, the world seemed a lot less bright.

"You fucking bastard! Pick up your damn phone! I know you're there!"

Of course Romano would be worried. Although he pretended that he could care less about Italy, he had a big-brother complex that rivaled England's, back when America had still been a cute, little colony.

Germany really didn't want to pick up the phone. Sure, he wanted Romano to stop calling, and he really wanted him to stop accusing him for things he couldn't even control, but it wasn't like the elder Italy would listen to anything he had to say.

Germany closed his eyes and tried to block out Romano's death threats. Italy could deal with this, when he decided to wake up. Yeah. Germany was no good at dealing with Romano.

After what was probably the fifth call, Germany caught the end of the message, "Fine! I'll just call Austria!" before the house was silent again.

It was then that Italy finally chose to wake up, before Germany could decide what to do. And the worst thing was that it really was completely a coincidence that Italy woke up just as Romano stopped calling.

"Good morning!" Italy beamed and settled more comfortably in Germany's arms.

Instead of responding with his own greetings, Germany immediately said, "Romano called."

Italy was confused for a moment, before asking, "Ve? About what?"

Germany sighed before, extremely reluctantly, removing himself from the bed. He made his way to the phone and played back the messages. As he listened to Romano rant, he stared blankly at Italy, waiting for some sort of reaction to show on the other nation's face.

Halfway through the third message, when Romano was threatening to carve out his intestines with a butter knife (or something to that effect; Germany couldn't be too sure), Italy finally got the message.

Still, all he could do was quietly say, "Romano's really mad…" and look at Germany, as if he could miracle up a solution to this problem.

Germany held in a sigh before going back to sit next to Italy, Romano's threats still sounding loudly in the background. "Italy," he paused before he corrected himself, "Veneziano…" he pointedly looked at Italy, "I don't think I can do anything about this."

Italy's expression resembled a mixture of disappointment, fear, and confusion. It was very silent but clear, "And why not?"

"Romano is mad. He hates me. I don't think me explaining is going to help," Germany said very slowly.

"B-but, you're strong; Romano can't hurt you." Italy's face scrunched up in thought before he added, "And he doesn't hate you!"

And for some reason, Germany believed him. It was strange, but some logical (or illogical, depending on how he wanted to think about it) part of his brain told him that there had to be some legitimate reason that Italy thought that Romano didn't hate him, because, well, Italy could sense hatred from miles away.

Germany gave in. "Fine. I'll call him back, tell him that you're okay," he muttered under his breath. But before he could reach the phone, he could hear the front door slam open.

Fearing for the worst, Germany couldn't help but be openly relieved when he heard Prussia's loud voice ask, "West? Are you in here? You're not dead or dying, are you?"

And for some reason, that didn't sound as humorous as it should have. Romano had really called Austria. Great.

Germany threw Italy his pants from where he had kept them the prior night before emerging from his room to confront Prussia.

"I'm fine," he answered, disgruntled as he was met with Prussia's overly relieved grin.

Was it really that worrying that he hadn't answered his phone?

One glance at Austria's obviously relieved expression gave him his answer.

Double great.

"Where's Italy?" Austria asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"Right here!" Italy joyfully replied. He beamed brightly, as if he hadn't just listened to a long list of creative death threats voiced by his violent elder brother against his new boyfriend. It wasn't all that odd, considering that this was Italy, after all. "What do you guys want to eat? I was just going to make something."

Then, before Italy could start rambling off a list of all the things he could make, the door slammed open again. Germany had a brief second to internally wince at the heartfelt cry of pain he could imagine his wall was emitting before he had to face an extremely livid Romano.

"Why didn't you pick up your phone, you bastard? I thought something had happened to Veneziano! You could've said something, you asshole!" He threw his arms around in the air, making violently energetic motions as he yelled. "What if Veneziano had actually been hurt, huh? What could I have done then? You insensitive jerk! Veneziano trusts you, and, and, chigi!" Romano took a few moments to calm down as he paced around angrily, never removing his glare from Germany. "Fuck!" He stopped pacing abruptly and poked Germany's chest. "I started trusting you, damn it! Then you had to be a complete moron and do this! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you!" He growled, jabbed Germany's chest a second time, for good measure, before saying, "Do this again, and I'll…I'll…I'll sic Spain on you!" He glared and stepped back before threateningly muttering, "Got that?"

And out of all the threats Germany had received that morning, this was the one he believed, and was frightened by, the most. There was no telling what Spain would do, after hearing Romano's complaints. There was one time that Germany could remember quite clearly; he had heard once, that when Romano had complained to Spain about Prussia trying to molest him, Prussia had nearly lost an arm. The scary thing was that it was completely true. When Germany had seen Prussia later in the day, Prussia had gauze and several bandages tightly wrapped around his left upper arm.

With that in mind, Germany nodded quickly, trying not to let the fear show on his face.

Satisfied, Romano returned to his normal level of irritation and turned to Italy to ask, "What do you want to make for breakfast?"

Germany was amazed at the sudden change in mood, but took it in stride as best as he could because a silent, well, near silent, Romano was always better than a loud, angry one.

xxx

Over the course of the day, Germany found that he had severely underestimated the power of the combination of a quiet day and a rumor mill headed by Prussia.

Italy couldn't keep quiet long before he had excitedly announced to Romano, Prussia, and Austria that he and Germany were (finally) together together. After calming Romano down once again, Prussia had grinned madly, before proceeding to embarrass the living daylights out of Germany.

When Prussia finally quieted down, at a threat from Austria, and Germany had time to reflect back on his morning, he figured he had had worse days.

That was before the day progressed and his quiet (well, as quiet as his house could get with Prussia, Italy, and Romano in it all at once) was continually interrupted as the day wore on.

Prussia had wasted no time in spreading the word.

Germany had gotten the first phone call a few hours before lunch. It was Japan, respectfully offering his congratulations, before boldly adding that it was about time and that he had to tell Hungary. Germany wasn't sure that he was supposed to hear that last part, so he ignored it.

For all of about five minutes before Hungary called, squealed loudly, excitedly and quickly said that Japan had just called and told her and that she had to go over and that she would be over in a few minutes, and hung up, without giving Germany a chance to respond.

Well, Italy had happily intercepted her so Germany was fine with that, even if his house had gotten louder, with Hungary and Italy excitedly chatting and Prussia's loud complaints towards Hungary.

After that, it slowly spread to the rest of the world. He had expected Finland's (and by association, Sweden's) call of congratulations, was only slightly shocked by England's call, hung up on France before he could say much, listened to Spain gush and rant and threaten for a good ten minutes, and took it all in stride. It was only after Switzerland called (along with Lichtenstein) that Germany felt that he had been missing something that had been ridiculously obvious.

After receiving America's (and Canada's, as he seemed to be with his brother at the time) call, who had, for some bizarre reason, thought that they were getting married (the results of the combination of a long rumor chain and America's lack of listening skills, Germany supposed), Germany really felt that he had missed something glaringly obvious.

The rest of the day proceeded in much the same manner, with calls appearing here and there from all over the world, and it grew to such a point that Germany just had to ask about it.

Very reluctantly, Germany had asked Hungary (who was still hanging around just to, Germany strongly believed, irritate Prussia further) as they were washing the dishes from dinner what the what big deal was – they weren't getting married (no matter how much America illogically thought this was true), and Prussia hadn't received any calls, months ago when Austria had very blatantly outed them.

Hungary had looked at Germany blankly, mid-scrub, before realizing that he was being completely serious and smiling kindly. "Everyone's been waiting for it to happen for decades, dear."

When Germany remained very confused, Hungary explained. "Well, even during all that drama between America and Russia," Hungary's expression grew dark for a moment before brightening again and she continued, "we kind of figured you and Italy would get together at some point, and we even had a bet going on how long it would take Italy to admit it because we all knew that you never would – oh don't look at me like that, you know it's true – and I think Japan won, we'll have to check later, damn him…" she trailed off before she realized she had drifted off-subject and continued, "Anyways! It was obvious to everyone that you two clearly can't get enough of each other, well, except to you two, apparently." When Germany remained silent, Hungary sighed. "Italy's really happy, right now. I know you're not the best at dealing with emotions, but try to make this work, all right?"

Still in shock at having been so blind, Germany truthfully replied, "I had no intention of not trying." After Hungary gave him a look of disbelief he added, "I dealt with him as a prisoner. I dealt with him during the depression. I dealt with him as an ally." Red started creeping into his cheeks and he stared determinedly at the plate in his hands as he finished, muttering, "Why wouldn't I care for him now?"

Hungary smiled and they returned to cleaning the utensils and cookware. The moment was ruined by the ringing of a phone and Germany, finally worn down by the constant calls, put the plate he had been drying down on the counter and then went around the house unplugging every single phone. Satisfied that America could no longer call him for the umpteenth time, Germany returned to the kitchen to finish up cleaning.

Hungary finally left a few hours later, after some convincing from Austria, and it wasn't long after that that Austria had left as well, with Prussia trailing after him, making up the excuse that he didn't want Austria to get lost on his way back to his own house.

Romano nearly dragged Italy back home, but Italy had convinced him that he would be fine, and so, after one last glare at Germany, Romano left as well.

Exhausted (Italy hadn't had a chance to take his nap), Italy had quickly stripped and plopped on the bed, burrowing under the covers.

Once Germany finally joined him, Italy sighed in contentment before sleepily murmuring, "Today was exciting. Everyone was so supportive, and Hungary was really nice today. Not that she isn't always nice, but she was especially nice today." Italy hummed quietly before continuing to say, "I still don't get why America kept asking when the wedding was, though. Who's getting married? Ah, oh well. I'm sleepy. Good night, Germany."

Germany could only quickly mutter a, "Good night, Veneziano," before Italy was out like a light. Germany smiled at the soft silence that followed, interrupted only by their breaths. He draped his arms protectively around Italy before closing his eyes to further relish the silence. While, admittedly, he could probably listen to Italy ramble on and on with no trouble whatsoever if he tried (having built up a high tolerance level to it over the years), he never stopped valuing his quiet, living by the age old saying that silence was, is, and always will be, golden.

Subconsciously pulling Italy closer to him, Germany finally settled down and let the stress of the day leave him. He would find some other time to explain to America that there was no reason whatsoever that he hand Italy would be getting married any time soon. Then again, maybe he could load that responsibility off onto England.

All thoughts of the rest of the world left as Italy interrupted his musings, quietly murmuring, "I love you, Germany."

Germany had no idea whether Italy was asleep or not, but, repressing a blush, he responded anyways, giving Italy a small kiss on his forehead. Germany was soon lost to sleep as well, under the comforting silence.

It wasn't until he was rudely awakened the next morning (again) that he realized he had forgotten to plug his phones back in.