Prussia raised a hand to the door, almost feebly. His knuckles were already red and smarting from the furious pounding they had already both given and taken when he had tried to smash the door down. Of course, it didn't work, because this was Germany's house and Prussia's brother was known for his tight security.

Which meant the door was mostly likely steel just painted to look like wood and had some sort of extremely long code to open it. Because it sure as hell wasn't opening from the inside!

"West," the albino whined, his knuckles resting against the (steel) door. "Let the awesome me out of this totally unawesome room. It's so not cool that I'm going to die!"

"Nein. You must learn punishment."

Why was this killjoy even sticking around, Prussia thought moodily. Probably to get some kind of sick amusement out of discomfort. The bastard. "West! I'll do anything, wirklich! Just let me out, bitte!"

"How about this then: I will let you out when you stop calling yourself awesome?"

Prussia gasped, wounded. "But I am awesome! I am the embodiment of awesomeness! You know that I can't deny myself my destiny of being the most awesome thing on this planet! You can't deny the truth either!"

"Then it looks like I will have to deny your pleas to get out as well."

Prussia wanted to kick something. Not the door, of course, he had learned that lesson already. The walls were probably just as enforced as the wooden-really-steel door, and the bed was grounded to the floor. So he settled for the trashcan instead.

The little aluminum can tipped over and a few crumpled papers and an old candy wrapper tumbled out onto the floor. Prussia frowned at the garbage. Well, that hadn't been anywhere near satisfying.

He jumped onto the bed with a groan, the only real piece of furniture besides the overturned trashcan, a lamp, and a desk. Germany was really strict about his room; they're couldn't be any distractions. The room had no television, not even a radio! And his brother had thrown him into Germany's room and it didn't look like he would let him out anytime even remotely close to soon, so it didn't seem like Germany would transfer him to his own room instead.

No Call of Duty with his bros because his Xbox was in his room. Boooo.

"Hey! Hey, West!"

Prussia thought he heard his younger brother groan before answering with a muttered, "Ja?"

"Can I come out now?"

"Nein. You stay."

"Okay…" A minute passed. Or, so he thought since there was no clock either. "West? Bruder?"

"You cannot come out, Pruβen!"

"I was just asking, Bankert! Mein Gott," he muttered. He waited another minute (he thought. After counting twenty seconds it became really boring). "Hey, Germany?"

"I will tape your mouth shut! Do you want that? I do not think so, you I do not want to hear another word from you! You may not come out of that room and you will stay there until I deem fit!"

"Okay, okay! Don't blow a fuse, West. Or an aneurysm. Mein Gott…yelling is totally unawesome. It hurts my awesome ears."

But, just in case Germany did decide to come in with some industrial tape for his awesome mouth, Prussia stayed as far from the door as he could.

The minute ticked by, one after the other, antagonizingly slow. No one did ever call him. Prussia had checked his phone almost three times a minute. He had checked his pockets ever so often to make sure a few dollars hadn't just magically appeared to maybe bribe France or Spain, or even that Romano kid into saving him from this hell. He'd even checked Germany's pant's pockets, not that he had any hope because Germany wouldn't carelessly leave any money laying around. Nit after all that trouble with inflation.

But, no one came. No one called. Not even his awesome diary helped to entertain him as he waited out his punishment.