Author's note: Well, howdy!
When this idea hit me, I just had to write it. It was practically begging me to.
No, this fic doesn't take place in the universe of my other Hetalia fics. It's an AU all its own.
I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter One: Only One
A bright smile on his face, Italy quietly opened the door. Lying in the bed opposite, body facing the wall, was the unmistakable form of Germany. Quickly ridding himself of most of his clothes, he crept into the bed, resting his head on the vacant pillow.
Dressed in only a vest and boxers, he shivered. The night was awfully cold. He snuggled closer to Germany's back to keep himself warm.
After a few minutes, Germany grunted and rolled over. After shuffling around a bit, his nose bumped into Italy's. His eyes immediately shot open.
"Hey, Germany!" Italy said, grinning at him.
"Gah!" Germany yelped, his face turning red. "Vh-Vhat...?" He scowled. "Italy!"
Italy took great delight in seeing the man's face change colour. It brought some light to those steely German features.
He gave a slight wave. "Ciao!"
Germany gave him a look of disbelief, then heaved a sigh. "Vhat are you doing in here?"
"Sleeping-a with you, of course!"
Germany made some sort of grunting noise, then shuffled backwards slightly. "Fine... just don't sleep so close..."
"Aww, but, Germany, it's cold tonight!"
"Zen vear more cloz, or somezing."
Italy shuffled closer. "But it's much nicer sleeping next to you!"
Germany averted his eyes, cheeks still red. Italy smiled to himself. It was rather adorable how awkward the guy was. Even after five years of the two of them being best friends, he still wasn't used to being affectionate.
"Vhatever..." Germany rolled over. "Just... don't put your face so close to mine next time..."
"But you're the one who rolled over, silly!"
Germany made another grunting noise. "Ja, vhatever..."
Italy snuggled into Germany's back. He felt the German's muscles stiffen for a minute, before they relaxed.
"You're so warm, Germany..."
"Ja, ja..."
"I wish I had-a muscles this big..."
"Zen perhaps you should start taking your training seriously und stop zinking about pasta..."
Italy felt his mouth water. "Mmm, pastaaaa..."
A hard edge entered Germany's voice. "Italy..."
Italy ducked his head. "Sorry, sorry..." He wished he'd brought a white flag with him.
Germany heaved a sigh. "Vell, at least you try, I guess."
Italy brightened. "Si! And I've never been in better running shape!"
"Ja, zough only vhen Britain's coming..."
"Well, he's a scary guy! Have you seen those eyebrows? Though he's also kinda nice... when he's not-a strangling Big Brother France... or talking to 'Flying Mint Bunny'..."
A sound rather like a snort came from Germany's direction. "Ja."
Italy beamed, happy that he'd amused his friend. "Well... buonanotte, Germany!"
"Ja... gute nacht, Italy..."
A lone figure threw his body against a door, again and again. He'd waited too long for this moment. So long that he'd come to believe he was never getting out.
The host's recent meltdown, however – caused by reasons he didn't know and didn't care to know – had caused all of the inner mechanics of his brain to malfunction. He'd sat and watched as the hinges on the door had burned white-hot, melting part of the structure. That had given him all the incentive he'd needed to continue his long-abandoned assault on the door.
After a while, the door started to give way. Encouraged and excited, he threw himself harder against it, over and over again.
It creaked, then creaked again. Giving it everything he had, he lunged at the door with a battle cry. It flung open.
He rolled along the floor, coming to a stop on his back. He stared up at the ceiling in shock. No longer could he see those four prison walls around him. He was free? He was actually free?
"I'm free..." Holy Rome muttered. He paused for a long moment, trying to process this thought. Eventually, a smile made its way onto his face. "I'm free..." The smile widened until it enveloped his face. Leaping up, he floated up and out. "I'm freeeeee!"
Holy Rome floated in place, looking at his surroundings in awe. He was finally free. He'd been stuck in that damn jail cell for so long and, now, he could actually see the outside world again.
Noticing a mirror on the nearby wall, he floated over to it. What greeted him was a tall, slender figure with blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a slightly transparent body. He didn't have much in the way of muscle mass, but this was mostly covered by the long black robe and cloak he was wearing. On his head sat a large black hat.
"Hmm," he muttered to himself in vague interest.
He hadn't changed much over the centuries, it seemed. His body had gotten taller, perhaps slightly bulkier, and he already knew that his voice had gotten deeper.
Turning around, he finally noticed the sleeping form of a man who greatly resembled the reflection in the mirror. His captor. His oppressor.
His blood immediately boiled at the sight. "It's you!" He angrily floated over to the man in a whoosh of air. "You filthy, potato-eating-!"
He paused, his breath catching in his throat. There, lying on the bed next to him, was a very familiar face. The short brown hair, the one stray curl, the closed eyes. It could be none other.
"Italy..."
He floated over Germany, hovering above the girl he'd walked away from all those centuries ago. So many feelings assaulted him at once, overwhelming him. She was here. She was actually here.
He gave her a warm smile. "Italy..."
He suddenly paused. Wait. Just what was she doing in this German bastard's house? In his bed? Were they... dating?
He violently shook his head, feeling nauseous. No, he refused to believe it. This bastard must have conquered her! Captured her! Forced his beautiful Italy to live in his house! Share his bed! Who knew what filthy things he'd made her do!
"Don't-a worry, Italy..." he murmured into her ear. "I'll save you."
Italy made some contented noises in her sleep. He smiled at her.
"Ciao, ladies..." Italy muttered.
Holy Rome's brain screeched to a halt. Ladies? Ladies?
"Wh... What?"
"Where are you... headed?"
Wait. Was Italy really into girls? But... what about what they'd had between them? What about their kiss? He'd told her he liked her and she'd said "Yay! That's happy!" He remembered it like it had been yesterday. Also, why did her voice sound so much deeper now?
Italy suddenly rolled onto her back, a goofy smile on her face. "Ciao..."
The blanket had moved aside just enough for him to see the pink vest she was wearing. He felt himself blush at the sight. He'd never seen Italy show so much skin before. Slightly revealing though it may have been, though, it looked rather cute on her. It did, however, kind of make her look like a...
He paused. Normally, his eyes wouldn't have been drawn to the chest area, but there was something rather eye-catching about it.
"It's... It's..." His brain started to malfunction. "Flat..."
Being a flat-chested girl was one thing, but he couldn't see anything. He'd feel it to check, but the thought alone made his face burn.
Instead, he decided to check another area. Gulping down his anxiety, he reached out a shaky hand and grabbed the blanket. After a moment or two of deep breathing, he yanked it back.
He was greeted by a pair of yellow boxers. Underneath them, there seemed to be the vague shape of a lump. Again, he wasn't about to check, but he was pretty sure that was a...
His brain exploded. He jumped backwards with a startled yelp, dropping the blanket like it was a hot coal. Italy was a boy? A boy? Had she- he always been a boy? Or had she- he been a girl originally? She- he used to wear a dress, right? But did that really mean she- he had been a boy the entire time?
He felt dizzy. He was sure the room was spinning around him. Italy was a boy. Italy was a boy...
Unless this wasn't Italy. He took a closer look, squinting hard at the sleeping man. No, this was undeniably Italy. He'd recognise that adorable face anywhere. The face he'd fallen for so long ago.
Backing up again, he rapidly shook his head. This wasn't happening. This just wasn't happening! Italy was a boy.
He paused, gazing at her- him once again. With the gender now different to what it once was, did he still feel the same way about the Italian? Curious, he approached her- him again. God, this was confusing.
"Italy?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Pastaaaa..." Italy nuzzled her- his head into the pillow.
Beneath his ribcage, Holy Rome's heart thudded. The feeling surprised him somewhat. He got a little bit closer.
He gazed into that beautiful face. The face that used to be adorned with a white bandana. His heart thudded painfully in his chest and he could feel his face heating up again.
Oh god, he still loved her- him. Even knowing that she- he was a boy. A man.
"Italy..."
He slowly reached out a hand to touch that face.
Suddenly, Germany rolled over, his hand landing smack on Italy's head. Holy Rome jumped back in shock.
The hand shoved against Italy, forcefully pushing him away.
Italy's smile disappeared and he let out a whining noise. "Germany..."
Holy Rome's blood boiled. "Hey! You leave Italy alone!"
Germany's eyes snapped open. Upon locking gazes with Holy Rome, he sat bolt upright. "Who ze hell are you?" he yelled. He paused, looking shocked. "Holy scheisse, you look just like me... except wiz less muscle mass und tackier clozing..."
Holy Rome glared daggers at him. "Si and I wonder why that is..."
Germany jumped off the bed. In a swift motion, he procured a gun from somewhere and pointed it at him. "Just who ze hell are you?" He paused. "Und how ze hell are you floating?"
"I'm the one who should be standing there, where you are!"
The gun lowered very slightly. "Vhat?"
"First, you take-a my life, then you take-a my love!"
"... Vhat?"
"You think-a you can just waltz in here and take Italy for yourself? I don't think so!"
"Vhat ze hell are you talking about? Und you didn't answer my qvestion! Just how ze hell are you floating?" Germany paused, looking confused. "Vait, you're transparent..."
"Si, because you stole my body!"
Germany stared at him. "Vait, vhat?"
"And I want it back!"
He leapt at Germany, shoving him to the ground. They rolled around on the floor, viciously grappling one another. The gun clattered across the room.
"Look, I don't know who you are, or vhat you're talking about! Now, get ze hell off me!"
"I am the Holy Roman Empire, you kraut!" He reached for Germany's face, but the man's hands intercepted him. "When I died in the Thirty Years' War, you took-a my body!"
The two pairs of hands interlocked, pushing against each other. "I did no such zing!"
"And now you've taken poor Italy captive! You're a monster!"
"I did vhat? Nein, he-!"
"Shut up! I will not listen to a word you say!"
They continued to grapple, each trying to overpower the other.
"Zis is ridiculous!"
"You think it's ridiculous? Being trapped in the back of your mind-a for three hundred years?"
Germany's eyes widened. "Vait, vhat?"
Holy Rome tightened his grip in his fury. His teeth ground together. "I thought I'd never escape! And, now, I'm going to take-a back what's mine!"
Germany scowled. "Nein! Not on mein life, you're not!"
Germany swung his legs back and kicked him in the stomach. He flew across the room and crashed into the wall.
Holy Rome scowled back at him. "Why, you little..."
Germany scrambled around for his gun. While he was preoccupied, Holy Rome searched for the nearest blunt object to hit him with. His eyes landed on a bowl of potatoes that was sitting on the nearest table. He grabbed it and rushed over to Germany.
When the German looked up, he only had a second to register the object before it came down on his head. The bowl smashed, scattering broken pottery and raw potatoes all over the wooden floor. After a moment, Germany's body landed on its front with a great thump. It lay motionless.
Holy Rome took some deep breaths to calm himself. It was finally over. He could finally rid the world of the fiend who'd stolen everything from him. All thanks to that bastard, France. If he saw him again, he'd get the same treatment as this German bastard for what he'd done. For now, however...
"You're not-a going to harm Italy anymore..."
He looked up at his beloved, who was somehow still fast asleep, despite all the noise. He threw the Italian a warm smile. Soon, they could be together again. Just like old times. He could finally make good on his promise and come back to him, after all these centuries.
Looking back down at the German, he relished in scowling at him for a few moments. Then he jumped inside his body.
A figure bound with ropes was kicked into a small room. He landed on the floor face-first. After a moment, he turned his head - the only part of him he could move - and scowled.
"Vhat ze hell do you zink you're doing?" he yelled.
Another figure, standing by the door, glared at him. "I'm doing to you what-a you did to me!" he replied. "I hope you like jail cells, 'cause you're going-a to be seeing a lot of this one!"
Grabbing the door, he slammed it shut.
Holy Rome gasped. His vision swam in front of him. He blinked a few times, gathering his bearings, then looked around himself. He was lying on his front on a wooden floor. Around him were the scattered remains of a bowl, with a few raw potatoes here and there.
He smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling in joy. It had worked! He was finally free! Honestly, truly free...
He stood up and stretched his muscles. Wow, he hadn't owned this body in a long time. It felt weird to be using it again.
Upon touching his arm, he paused. Wow, his muscles were huge! The German bastard sure knew how to work out, at least. He was built like a freaking truck!
After shoving aside some potatoes and broken pottery with his foot, he waltzed over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. A muscular figure wearing a black vest and red boxers looked back at him. He smirked, flexing his muscles. First, the left arm. Then the right arm. Then both at once. He could get used to this body!
Pausing again, he looked over at the sleeping form of Italy. His gaze softened. He, too, was finally free of the German bastard. The two of them could finally be together, with no one else around to get in the way. It was a day he'd dreamed of for so very long.
"Italy..." he murmured.
He walked slowly over to the bed, his eyes never once straying from his love. Climbing in next to him, he propped his head on an elbow and gazed at the man that he'd always thought to be female.
Italy made a contented noise and rolled over, planting his face in Holy Rome's chest. Holy Rome's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering beneath his ribcage. His face appeared to be a few degrees warmer now, too.
Wow. Even after three centuries, the northern part of that idyllic country still had this effect on him. Even after discovering he'd gotten his gender wrong. It was magical.
"Ciao..." Italy muttered in his sleep.
Smiling at him, Holy Rome brushed his chestnut bangs out of his eyes, drinking in that beautiful face that he'd missed so much.
He chuckled to himself. What would Italy say when he woke up and found out he was back? The excitement building in his chest made him want to shake the Italian awake right now and tell him the news, but he restrained himself. He'd let the man sleep.
Besides, he was quite content to just observe him for the moment. It was like viewing a valuable painting that had been thought to be lost with time. A masterpiece to be framed and cherished. It filled his heart with so many pleasant feelings that he couldn't put them into words.
Instead, he brushed a gentle finger across Italy's cheek. The man's response was to smile, make a strange noise of contentment and snuggle into his hand. His heart almost burst out of his chest.
After a while of observing, he decided to settle into bed and snuggle up to Italy. Smiling happily to himself, he closed his eyes. He couldn't wait until tomorrow morning...