Oktoberfest

Oct. 1st, 2016 07:24 pm
kiramaru7: (chibi!Prussia2)
[personal profile] kiramaru7
Title: Oktoberfest
Author: kira
Genre: slice of life
Characters: Prussia, Germany, Italy, America, mention of Romano, Spain, France, Austria
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Word count: 795
Warning: none
Summary: American throws Germany an Oktoberfest party…
Author’s Note: Thanks to my beta Jen for looking this over for me. Please note this was written for my friend Kat’s Oktoberfest challenge.
Author’s note 2: Lebkuchen are heart-shaped gingerbread cookies that are hung up. They are decorated with sayings like “Ich liebe dich” (“I love you”) or sayings related to Oktoberfest.
Author’s note 3: “Ein Prosit” is a traditional Oktoberfest drinking song. The modern composition was composed by Gerhard Jussenhoven and Kurt Elliot in 1957. It’s followed by “Schenkt ein, trinkt aus, schenkt ein, trinkt aus!” which translates to “I poured you one, drink it up! I poured you one, drink it up!” English lyrics for “Ein Prosit” are as follows:

"A Toast"

"A toast, a toast
"To cheer and good times
"A toast, a toast
"To cheer and good times.

"ONE! TWO! THREE! DRINK UP!"





They arrived at the meeting several minutes before it was supposed to start. Prussia smoothed the lines of his black sweater and looked over at his brother with a cocky grin. “You’re overdressed as usual, West,” he said, indicating Germany’s charcoal grey business suit with a wave of his hand.

Italy, who was dressed just as casually as Prussia, giggled. “But Germany looks so handsome in a suit.”

Prussia chuckled at the delicate blush that stained his brother’s cheeks and the stern look he gave him. They were in America’s “house” and he had learned long ago that the young country liked things on the informal side. No matter how many times this was pointed out to his brother, Germany still packed a suit and wore it to every meeting. Besides, America’s “where’s the funeral” comment to his brother never got old.

“Thanks,” Germany said softly to his little buddy, the stern expression he favored his brother with, softening into a ghost of a smile. He opened the door to the conference room and paused.

“What’s the matter, West?” Prussia craned his neck to peer over his brother’s shoulder. His eyes went wide.

Italy simply pushed past them and walked inside. Leaving the German bothers stranded in his wake, he hurried over to were his brother Romano stood with Spain and France to greet them. “Grazie!” he said when America, who was dressed in comically short lederhosen, handed him a beer mug full of Heineken. Italy drank some, licking his beer-stache off with his tongue, before animatedly discussing the party-like atmosphere of the meeting.

America took a minute to grab two more beer mugs and filled them from the Heineken keg he had tapped with England’s help. He walked over to the German brothers, who were still standing in the doorway. “Willkommen!! Happy Oktoberfest!” America said as he handed them a beer.

“Uh…” Germany said.

“You too!” Prussia said. He lifted his beer mug and said, “Prost!” Prussia drank some of the beer, and throwing an arm around America’s shoulders, he steered him away from his stunned brother. “Don’t mind West, he loves a good party as much as he loves a good meeting.”

The sound of his brother’s and host’s laughter spurred Germany in motion. He closed the door behind him and looked around. Blue and white bunting hung festively from the ceiling in some bizarre approximation of a tent along with some blue and white streamers, someone, he suspected Italy, had drawn a Bavarian flag on the dry erase board. Lebkuchen also hung from the “tent’s ceiling.” The board table had a large beer stein in the middle filled with blue cornflowers and white carnations along with some small bundles of wheat. There were plates of big, soft pretzels and bowls of mustard too. On the consol table along the window, some of his fellow countries stood in line to get what he had the feeling were beer brats and sauerkraut. He figured there would be other “traditional” food as well. Looking around as he drank his beer, Germany realized this was like some strange idea of what Oktoberfest was like without the oom pah music… until it suddenly started playing. Oddly touched, Germany mingled with his fellow countries.

Lifting his beer mug, Germany sang softly, “Ein Prosit, ein Prosit … Der Gemütlichkeit … Ein Prosit, ein Prosit … Der Gemütlichkeit. OANS! ZWOA! DREI! G'SUFFA!” Italy, who had been to several Oktoberfest celebrations in Munich with the German brothers, also sang along with Prussia. Even Austria chimed in.

Schenkt ein, trinkt aus, schenkt ein, trinkt aus!” Germany cried.

Prussia winked and elbowed America. “See? I told you, he’d like it.”

“Yeah!” America grinned and looked around the conference room. “So does everyone else!”

“Awesomeness!!” Prussia grinned. “Next year, let’s try not to schedule a meeting during Oktoberfest, and come visit us. I’ll get West to show you how it’s really done.”

“Sweet!!”

“Be prepared to eat and drink your ass off!”

They laughed. Who knew Prussia’s offhand comment about his brother missing out on Oktoberfest would spark such an awesome party-slash-meeting? Then again, Prussia knew the “kid” would do whatever it took to not only make it right, but he also was known to throw a mean party. The two of them grinned at each other, Germany in shirtsleeves sans tie, was a sight to behold and would make for a memorable meeting even if no work got done.

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