Germany sighed, glancing to the phone on his desk that was ringing. It was most likely Italy calling for help as always. One of these day's he would have to let the little brunette deal with his own problems. "Hello?" He said, picking up the phone.
"Germany! Germany! Help!" Indeed that was Italy's voice on the other end of the line. Accompanying him was Romano, belting out curses as per usual.
"Damn it! Stop moving! Ow! I'm to going to kill you-ow!" The blond sighed again figuring the two had gotten their hair curls tangled again.
"I'm sorry! I didn't-ow!" That voice, though, definitely did not belong to Italy nor Romano. "Please stop hitting me!"
"I'll be there soon," Germany said, hanging up. He stood up and left out the little home office, wonder who that could have been with the Italy's. It wasn't anyone he knew that he was sure of but the stranger had an accent similar to the brothers. Possibly a relative? The blue-eyed nation became lost in his thoughts as he drove to the Italians home, coming to the home quickly.
"You mother fu-ow! Didn't I tell you to stop fucking moving?" Germany could hear Romano's voice floating through the window and spied Italy watching his brother-who was out of sigh-with a panicked expression. The younger Italian then turned and smiled as he saw his ally.
"Germany! You're here!" He called, as the blond walked into the house. He enveloped him in a hug and Germany could see the tear tracks down his friends face-nothing to worry about for Italy always cried. "I'm so glad you're here, Germany! It's horrible! They're all tangled up and I can't get them free and Romano won't let me try! Please! You have to help them!" The smaller nation seemed to be on the verge of tears again and Germany opened his mouth to comfort him when he was confronted with a new scene. Romano sat on the couch scowling-though tears ran in his eyes too-his hair tangled with...well he couldn't be too sure. Germany had never ran into this nation before. He looked similiar to the Italy's only with a skin tone more inbetween the two and with brown eyes, a curl like the brother's trapped with Romano's.
"Italy, who's that?" Germany asked while examening the problem before him.
"Oh! That's out little brother Seborga!" Italy replied, giving his friend a chair to sit in. Seborga smiled gently at Germany and wiped his eyes-apparently all Italians were prone to crying when put in a painful situation.
"Ciao! I'm Seborga but you can call me Sebo. You must be Germ-ow!" He stopped in mid-setence as Romano turned his head to glare at Germany.
"Don't talk to him, Seborga! He's a bastard and I don't want him poisining your mind like he did with our brother." The oldest Italian growled. "You talk with him and next thing you know you'll be eating potatos and drinking that damn German beer that taste like piss!"
"Oh," Said Sebo, looking to the 'bastard' in question. Most of what he knew about Germany he heard from his brothers-though they both had different opinions of him. Italy always said Germany was a nice guy and always helped him while Romano just called him a country bumpkin and a potato bastard who didn't know anything and was corrupting their brother with his 'Germaness'.
"It's nice to see you too, Romano." Germany said, gently reaching out to touch the tangled hair pieces. Both nations tensed up and a blush began to creep onto their cheeks. It was nothing new to Germany, the same thing had happened last time Italy and Romano had gotten tangled together. He just choose to ignore it.
"W-watch it, you bastard!" Romano stuttered out, adverting his eyes. The blond nation didn't reply, only began to steadily work on the tangled puzzle of Italian hair.
"F-fratello," Panted out Seborga. "He-he's-" He bit his lip at the light touches, squirming gently. "He's touching it!"
"It's okay, Seborga. Germany works really quickly!" Italy assured him, sitting on Germanys left side. "You'll be untangled in no time!"
"So how did this happen?" Germany asked, gently yanking on Romano's side of the curl, eliciting a whine from the brunette. The Italian's eyes, glaring as always, were partially glazed over with-what Germany susspected-was pain. "Sorry,"
"W-well," Seborga started, taking a deep breath. "I-i came over to visit and I-i went to the kitchen and-and the light wasn't working so I-i went to fix it. I g-got on the chair-" He sucked in a breath as his curl was yanked but he could feel the tangle getting loose. 'Dios,' He thought, clenching at his knees. He took a moment to calm down before beginning again. "Th-then I...uh...what happened again?" His brain was starting to beome fuzzy and he could feel himself leaning in towards the German, heart hammering, before being yanked back by his older brother with a growl. "S-sorry," He apologized, glancing to Ronano. "So uh...I g-got on the chair th-then Romano came in and-and he...he yelled and I-I fell off the chair and landed on him." He smiled sheepishly. "We wr-wrestled around on the fl-floor before finding out we-we were t-t-tangled." He stuttred out the last few words as Germany's hands gliding up and down his hair for a moment.
"Stupid fratello," Romano growled, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. "I w-would have gotten i-it." He folded his arms over his chest, nails digging into his arm.
"Hold still, I almost got it." Germany said, dragging his fingers skilly over the curls, the Italians moaning gently in what he figured was pain before finally pulling them apart. "There,"
"G-grazie," Seborga stuttered, leaning in and gave a kiss to both sides of Germany's cheek. He wasn't expecting anything except a few choice words from Romano.
"Wait," Germany then reached out and grabbed the brunete's curl, curling it around his finger for a few seconds while the three watched with large eyes. Seborga bit onto his finger, holding back a low, throaty moan and closed his eyes. The blond then let the hair go, watching it bound back into place in satisfaction. He glanced to Romano who shot him a dirty look, daring him to touch his sensitive hair. "Aliright, I'm going home now. Goodbye, Italy." The German said, turning to leave only to be grabbed in a hug again.
"Thank you, Germany!" Italy said happily, before he was gingerly shoved off.
"You wel-" The blond nation was cut off as a pair of lips were placed over his in a kiss.
"Grazie, Germany." Seborga whispered before crying out in pain as his brother hit him.
"Get off him! He won't finish it for you!" Romano growled, grabbing the younger Italian and pulled him away.
'Finish?' Germany thought. "What is that-"
"None of your damn business, you damn potato bastard!" Romano growled, shoving his brother behind him protectivly. "Get going! We don't need you here anymore!" Germany sighed and waved goodbye to Italy, exiting out the house. He glanced behind him quickly to watch Romano shut the window and close the blinds-of course not before giving him a glare of death.
"Italians," He muttered, getting back in his car. He would never figure out what it was with them and that curl...or why the youngest Italian had shoved his tongue down his throat. The only explination..."They are much too affectionate,"
A/N: I saw a picture of Seborga and I instantly fell in love with him. He is adorable! And it just makes me happy-not one Italian, not two, but three! That is full on awesomness! About as awesome as Prussia! This idea popped into my head(almost typed hair for a moment there) while in school and I wanted to write it down. We need more stories about Sebo! And does anyone but think that watching/reading about someone touching the Italian's curls could be counted as porn? I mean it does do stuff but what ever! Oh and sorry for any spelling errors. My grandma's computer doesn't have spell check. ~Ciao! Love Stripes!