Germany liked to stop by the bar after work. It was a nice way to relax, unwind from the stresses of a demanding boss and prepare him for the even more hectic situation that was going home to Italy. The bar was pleasant in the fact that it was stubbornly unchanging. The building had stood since World War 2, and with the exception of a few adjustments in decor as the establishment was passed down through subsequent generations, it had remained relatively the same; a quiet haven for the German in a rapidly changing world.

He sat at the bar, nursing his favorite brand of beer and peering around at the customers. There were the regulars, a fairly quiet group that kept to themselves and, like himself, were there simply to cool down from a hard day's work. Germany liked that group. There were a few customers who had just stumbled in out of the cold, now relaxing with a pint or two. They were a bit rowdier than the normal group, but their conversation stayed at a manageable level. As he looked around, he noticed another that he had never seen in this bar before, let alone in this country off of business.

America sat at the bar, repeatedly opening and closing an orange paper umbrella with a sullen expression.

A bit taken aback, Germany stood and moved down a few stools to sit next to the American. "Alfred?" he asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the usage of the nation's human name.

The boy looked up, his normally obnoxiously cheery face clouded with depression. "Huh? Oh, hey Germy."

Germany repressed the urge to throttle America for the usage of such an idiotic nickname. He now knew how England felt with the ridiculous "Artie" that always spouted loudly out of the excited lad's mouth. "Vat are you doing here?" he asked. "I never see you in my country, let alone drinking."

America nodded down at the suitcase by his feet. "Artie kicked me out," he said sadly. "Out the door, hit the road, see ya later." He jerked his thumb toward the door, making a popping noise with his tongue.

Germany sighed irritably. His old self would have just left the matter at that, expressed his sorrow at the boy's misfortune and gone along on his way. But the "new Germany," as Italy had described it, had to be nice. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Normally I vouldn't care, but Italy tells me I have to take an interest in my...friends'...feelings. Vat happened?" He was already dreading the next few minutes. America had a tendency to talk for a very long time at a very high volume.

He was surprised when America let out a tired chuckle. "Is it bad that I don't even know?" he asked. "All I know is I'm sitting in the living room watching some documentary when he comes in and yells at me about my quote-unquote carelessness."

"Vouldn't that mean he vas angry at you for being careless?"

"It's not that simple."

Germany begged to differ. The matter seemed extremely simple from his viewpoint, but he didn't voice it.

"With Artie, it's always gotta be more complicated than it actually is, y'know what I mean?"

He didn't, but again, he said nothing.

"I mean like," America sat up and Germany sensed a rant approaching. "He's always bottling it up. He won't tell me what's bugging him and just goes around saying 'It's nothing, it's nothing!' so right when I start to think that it IS nothing, he'll come in and just go off and blow his top and say that 'he's been patient with me for far too long' and I've 'toed the line for the last time' and all that grand ol' shit and I'm just like DUDE. And then he gets better but it just happens again a few months later and I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore! If ya don't tell me what's wrong, how am I gonna know what to fix, ya get me?"

"Hm," was his response.

America shook his head and sunk back into his drink. "He's just annoying and old," he whined at his beer, taking a large swig.

Germany sat there uncomfortably for a few minutes. He had never seen America look so miserable and to be honest, it was disconcerting him a bit. "Erm," he began, clearing his throat and tugging at his collar. "Perhaps...you could do something to cheer up?"

America snorted. "Right."

"I could buy you a beer?"

America looked at him blankly, eyes resigned and incredulous over his glasses. "Seriously? I'm on my fourth and I've got a liver like a fucking ox. I honestly don't think another beer's gonna help."

"Vell...vat makes you happy?" In all honesty, Germany couldn't imagine how beer couldn't make someone happy.

America rolled his eyes, but stopped when his gaze caught an object in the corner. His face lit up at a rate Germany wouldn't have thought possible had he not met Italy. "Dude!" the American said excitedly. "Karaoke! I love singing!"

Germany chuckled. "Go for it, zen." He made to take another swig from his bottle, but ended up spilling it down his front as his arm was literally yanked away. "Vat are you doing!?" he demanded.

"Dude, I ain't goin' up there by myself! You gotta sing with me, come on!" America pleaded.

"Nein. I don't sing." Germany crossed his arms and tried to look stern.

But damn if America's puppy eyes weren't just as persuasive as the Italian's! "Please, Germy?" he begged, his voice rising in pitch just enough to sound endearing. "I can't go up there by myself, I'm broken!"

"Broken?" Germany was skeptical.

"Yeah dude!" America clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm in a fragile emotional state right now! My heart has been shattered. You can't leave me to flounder all alone!"

Germany had a strong desire to do just that, but the American's onslaught of pity-inducing stares was relentless. "Ugh...fine."

"YAAAY~"

He was going to regret this. Correction, he was already regretting this as America dragged him up onto the stage. He shrunk back and tried to look invisible as America grabbed the microphone.

"GUTEN TAG!" he shouted in a hideously executed German accent. The customers looked up in alarm. "My name's America and I'm gonna serenade you with my awesome heroic voice! Also Germany is too!"

Germany cringed as some of the regulars recognized him. Think Canada, he told himself, still desperately trying to disappear. There was a clatter as America chucked the partner microphone at his chest and missed, causing an echoing screech as it hit the stage. Germany picked it up and turned to see America puzzling over the karaoke machine.

"How do you work this?" he asked, confused. "Is it like quarters or what, cuz it's all foreign and German and I don't get it. Do it for me," he demanded, standing and pointing imperiously at the offending contraption.

Germany sighed and inserted a few euros into the slot, creating a ping! and a selection of music to appear.

"Awesome!" he was shoved as America took it upon himself to root through the songs. "What do you guys listen to? Lame...lame...lame...," he dismissed multiple songs as he flipped through the pages. "Dude, do you guys listen to any good music? Where's all the American stuff?" Germany rolled his eyes, but was knocked back as America jumped up again. "Got one. Get ready for this, you guys!"

Germany was just about to ask what song had been selected when an unfortunately familiar tune blasted through the speakers.

"WAKE UP IN THE MORNIN' FEELIN' LIKE P-DIDDY~" America shouted rather than sang into the microphone, "GOT MY GLASSES I'M OUT THE DOOR I'M GONNA HIT THIS CITY~! Aha, that works cuz I've got glasses! Come on Germany, sing!"

He was really going to regret this. "Before I leave, brush my teeth vis a bottle of jack~"

"AHAHA YEAH! CUZ WHEN I LEAVE FOR THE NIGHT I AIN'T COMIN' BACK~! I'M TALKIN' PEDICURES ON MAH TOEZ TOEZ~"

"Trying on all of my clothes, clothes~" Good Gott, he was actually getting into this!

"BOIZ BLOWIN' UP OUR PHONEZ PHONEZ~" America sang. "Dude that works cuz I'm gay!"

Germany suppressed a chuckle. "Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs, going out to ze parties~"

"GERMY I THINK I'M TIPSYYYYYY~" America laughed loudly at his ad-lib. As the music picked up, the boys broke into an awkward duet.

"Don't stop, make it pop, deejay blow my speakers up tonight! I'mma fight 'til ve see ze sunlight!"

"TIK TOK ON THE CLOCK BUT THE PAR-TAY DON'T STOP NO~" The American had exploded in a rather drunken dance and Germany joined him in a far subtler manner.

"OH OH WUH-OH! OH OH WUH-OH~!" they sang in unison.

Germany would never admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself. America's boisterous energy and cheerful manner was contagious, and the song was rather catchy. They sang the rest of it together, alternating during the verses as they had before. Their timing was horribly off but neither of them cared. It was damned fun.

To his slight surprise, the song ended with a smattering of applause from the audience. Germany blushed but America took it all in stride, bowing so low the fringe of his bangs hit the floor. He stood up, flicking his hair back and shooting a grin at Germany. "Wanna do another one?" he asked cheerfully.

The German chuckled. "Nein," he said. "I zink I'm done for ze night."

America laughed. "All right then. Can ya lend me a couple euros then? I kinda wanna do another."

Germany handed him the cash and returned to the comfort of his drink. He heard the music start up again and watched in amusement as America started a much slower country song. Like any good friend would, he nodded his encouragement whenever America shot him a glance. He also acted as a good friend would when he saw England enter the bar by pretending not to notice. So naturally he didn't notice when America cheerfully beckoned the Brit up to the stage. He didn't notice when America pulled the embarrassed Englishman up to the stage and continued to sing quietly, urging England to sing with him. He didn't notice as the two began to quietly sing a mutual apology, their lips brushing softly together over the shared microphone. He didn't notice, and he quietly slipped out of the bar with a slight smile on his face.

It definitely hadn't been like his usual trip to the bar.

But then again, it hadn't been the strangest thing to happen to him, either.

A/N: This was inspired by a roleplay between myself and wurstoftheitalians :D She was Germany and I, of course, was everyone's favorite hero :D Portia love, I hope you like it. I think I ended it well, right? (It never actually made it past "I'mma fight til I see ze sunlight" so eh)

Reviews are love! :D