Hello again!

I've had this little sidestory in my head for a at least ten chapter now (from what I've written), and I simply had to write this down. It can be read on its own as I don't like making stories no one will understand these days... probably comes with age. ;)

This story revolves around some of the, my guess, two of the most popular characters N. Italy and Germany, or Feliciano and Ludwig. I have actually not watched a lot of Hetalia, but I like the characters... they're a lot of fun and have huge playful personalities!

Story summary: Vampires cannot digest anything but blood. So what happens when a stubborn Italian vampire decides to still eat his former favourite meal?

Rating: T, this is a one-shot about vampires... you can probably make the guess.

Category: Humour/Romance

Pairing: Italy/Germany or Feliciano/Ludwig

Age; Ludwig was turned 405AD and Feliciano was turned 1110AD. Don't ask, vampires in this story are generally old, save for Iceland, who was turned 2009.

Bites, Beer, PASTAAA!

-Italy, Florence, 1998-

Ludwig couldn't believe he ever agreed to this.

You must understand him. He was, in one way, among the strongest vampires in Europe. There wee only a few vampires who really were a threat. You see, vampires are dead people, returned to life by the demons that they hosted. A vampire was born when a dying human consumes a little bit of a vampire's blood. The blood itself contains the poison, that allows a demon to take control. Because of this, all vampires were extremely territorial, and usually would try to kill each other.

Ludwig was among the stronger kind, turned by a vampire named Aldric, who once held the entire northern European land as his own. The land was now split into many smaller territories.

Someone still needed to explain this to Feliciano, his significant other since several hundred years back. Somehow the Italian tended to ignore this obvious rule. Most vampires, who once were together, ended up having to stay far away from each other.

But Feliciano never did. And today, the Italian had invited him to his new mansion in Florence.

"Ludwig, amore mio, what are you doing over there?"

Ludwig looked back. He had been standing on the balcony overlooking the darkened streets of the city. Quickly he hid the item he had been holding behind his back.

"Nothing." Ludwig murmured. He looked at his love, who was standing behind him... in only his boxers.

Ludwig felt like he wanted to facepalm himself.

"Feliciano... where are your clothes?" he asked.

"Oh, I think I accidentally threw them in the fire."

Ludwig blinked. "Say what?"

"I needed a fire, and I don't have firewood." Feliciano explained cheerfully.

This did not bode well, and certainly enough he could smell something smoking. Alarmed, the German vampire ran into the kitchen, where surely enough there was a pile of near burnt-down clothing, below a pot of water on the stove.

"Dumkopf!" Ludwig said, and hurried to douse the fire. After a minute the flames had been killed, and the smoke cleared once the window had been opened. But there was no doubt the kitchen would smell burnt for a few days.

Feliciano arrived after him. The Italian looked at the mess, and pouted.

"Amore mio, what did you do? I was trying to cook water."

Ludwig glared at him. He pointed at the stove.

"Why did you light the place on fire then?" he asked, quite annoyed by his love's antics. "Why didn't you just turn on the stove?"

Feliciano tilted his head.

"Turn it on?"

How the hell had Feliciano survived all these years, and never been suspected for what he was?

Ludwig sighed. "Yes, turn it on. See this?" he pointed at the valve. "You turn this, electricity is turned on and you can use it."

Feliciano walked over to have a proper look.

"Oh, is this like Arthur's magic?" he asked innocently. Sometimes Ludwig worried if there was something seriously wrong with his love?

Feliciano hummed happily as he put the pot back properly on the stove, and this time he managed to turn the stove on properly. After a while, after the Italian had poured some salt into the water, Ludwig got curious.

"So, what are you cooking really?"

Feliciano's face lit up. Quickly he dove into one of the cupboards, and took out a long thin package.

"Pastaaa!" he said cheerfully.

Ludwig blinked.

"What on earth for?" the German murmured.

"I remembered I used to love Pasta!" The Italian said cheerfully. "Mi mama used to make it for me. So, I decided to try it again."

Ludwig sweatdropped.

"Are you sure? You know, we vampires cannot eat human food." The German reminded him, but obviously Feliciano didn't listen to him. Instead the Italian hummed happily, as he poured as much pasta as possible into the now boiling pot.

Ludwig was worried though. He knew very well what happened when a vampire tried something that humans loved to digest. But... we should not talk about that.

The German returned to the hallway. It was obvious Feliciano wouldn't listen to him, what should he do?

There were a few things he could do. One, he could go back to the kitchen and simply throw the thing out before the worst happened. Something he should do, after all he loved the annoying Italian, whatever his outer appearances may say. But then Feliciano would cry and probably hate him, for the rest of his life.

Which was a long time since they were all practically immortal.

Two, he could distract him, but this only worked when there was something very spectacular to distract him with. It hadn't been the first time the Italian wanted to make pasta, but so far Ludwig had been lucky. The first time, 1610, there had been a carnival that the Italian got sucked into, and the pasta was soon forgotten by all the colours and joys that humans had. Ludwig hated such frilly things, but he had been grateful that time. The second time was 1722, when Feliciano had been nagging him at his own territory, and that time he had concocted a lie about German pasta. It did keep Feliciano from eating the thing, and for many years Ludwig thought he might have forgotten about it.

Seriously, where was a miracle when you needed it.

The German glared at the pot. He stared at the sizzling, bubbling hell, with those strands of yellowish substance as if it was spawned by the devil itself. Which it probably was.

Then Feliciano popped out infront of him.

"You want some?" he asked gently. Ludwig frowned.

"No." he said sternly. His love's smile faded, but then the beep sounded, the pasta was done. Al dente like all Italians loved it.

Curses, all that thinking had distracted him.

Feliciano hummed happily as he heaved a plate of paste for himself. The Italian grabbed a fork, added some pesto and a little parmegiano cheese. Then he sat down and started gobbling it up, twirling his fork to the long strands.

Ludwig closed his eyes and waited. He was ready... he was ready for the aggravating pain that would follow.

But nothing happened.

All he could hear was Feliciano's happy humming as he ate his once favourite meal.

Ludwig didn't get it.

-000-

Hours later the German vampire was back on the balcony. Feliciano was taking a midnight nap, it had been many hours since he ate and still nothing had happened. The Italian had been his usual happy self. No pains, no aches, nothing.

Ludwig stared down at the bottle of beer he had been holding before this whole circus started. Maybe, just maybe h could get a taste again. Gilbert once told him beer was like heaven, even if it came with a stomach ache.

So he opened the bottle, and drowned it.

He had to thank his brother. It really did taste amazing.

But then, almost as soon as he had swallowed those first gulps, the pain hit him. Hard. He keeled over, holding his hand over his stomach, gasping.

Despite everything, despite him being among the strongest of vampires, the one who could challenge Ivan from the East, Mathias from the North and Arthur from the islands, he couldn't win over one measly bottle of beer.

And yet, in their shared room, there was one small vampire, who normally would run from a fight, who would surrender when you came to challenge him, that could ignore those thousand year old instincts, and still feel nothing but pleasure of eating a full plate of pasta.

"Feliciano, I love you. But you're an idiot. But you are my idiot." Ludwig murmured, before he was forced to the ground. How someone like him could have fallen in love with the Italian, was still a mystery that has yet to be solved.

-000-

Final notes: I actually don't know Italian taste, but everytime I've been to Italy the pasta is made al dente. It's also how I prefer my pasta to be.

And I actually don't drink beer, despite the fact I'm years above legal drinking age. I have just never liked it, but I'm okay if you do. I just didn't feel like the right person to describe this favourite among beverages.