He was pretty like a girl but with an edge to let the world know. Sun kissed skin that radiated heat and a face to break a million hearts. This was the nation that Germany fell in love with, that stiff and unmoving power.

There was an energy about him that caused a glow and shadow to fall, and Germany would sit back and drink, watching the little nation whir and captivate his fans like a new toy.

"Que vous etes tres belle, ma petite!" Germany heard France cry, taking a sip of lush red wine. The wars were over and at last they were at peace. Even Japan, still healing from such a cruel wound, made polite conversation with a sheepish but still proud America.

"Ve – I am not a girl, France, don't use such feminine words," Italy huffed, sensing the changes in his grammar. France laughed and kissed the fair cheek of the pouting boy, and everyone laughed.

All except Germany, who just watched with that longing in his chest and burning in his cheeks. The food came and all nations let Italy have his way, enchanted. Pasta night seemed to be the only acceptable thing when little Italy was around.

When Italy finally graced Germany with his presence, it was later in the evening. The nations were drunk off of brandy and sake, near to sleep and words falling out of their mouths in low rumbles – bar the occasional outburst from one temperamental Romano, of course.

"Hi, Germany – you haven't talked to me all night," Italy pouted a little, cheeks posing a soft blush and illuminated by the candlelight. And equal flush spread on Germany's cheeks, although hardly from the taste of liquor and cheer. Germany held his own.

"You haven't talked to me," Germany reasoned equally, taking a sip of his Yeager. Italy giggled and watched as England fell on his side, completely gone.

"Ve, this is true. But Germany, I was waiting for you to come to me! Sometimes it's good to play hard to get," Italy scrunched up his nose when he smiled, and Germany could see why so many hearts went out to that peaceful, bubbly country. He also tried not to pay mind to his outward flirting.

"Look at your brother, Feliciano," Germany nodded over and made the boy laugh – fighting with Spain as their faces got all together too close to one another. It would always be that kind of love, with hitting and kissing and lots of anger.

"Oh, yes – they do love each other, don't they?" Italy's smile looked a little sad as he watched the two flirt and fight, biting his lip. "Ve, we should all have someone like that, don't you agree, Ludi?"

"Sure, ja," Germany waved his hand, feeling the flush reach his neck. "Everyone has something to love."

"What about you, Germany? Do you have that something …?" Italy's face was nice and close, to the point where Germany could feel his warmth and pretty breath on his cheek. It kissed him and let him almost taste – almost.

"Yes, I do," Germany said, a little wistfully. There were things he was able to recall during war that made him question everything – reality, his own existence. Past lives as other countries was not unheard of, that's for sure. Pressed up against Italy during the nights he was scared of the bombs, Germany was able to remember things. "From long ago, but the love is still very strong."

"Well, who – or what," Italy urged, pressing closer. His eyes were so bright and Germany could count all of his eyelashes, each long and thick and unique. There was not a part of the country that Germany did not like, did not find himself treasuring.

"A little maid," Germany said simply, eyes becoming unfocused. Hazy images of a tiny body dressed in thick skirts flashed in his vision – a little boy treated as a girl, dressed and made to work, although always underfoot.

"Oh," Italy said, biting his lip and looking down. He was crestfallen, but too quick to pick himself up. There was a missed beat in conversation that Germany did not quite pick up on.

"I'm sure she was very beautiful, then," Italy said, smile looking wobbly. "Anyone to be worthy of Germany must be very, very beautiful and good."

This made the usually stoic face of the German crack into a smile, and he tousled the auburn locks of the lithe boy beside him. "Beautiful is the wrong word," he said still burning a little from this mass proclamation. "This made was perfect to me."

(Hi! I'm Ceilidh, I'm skeletonletters on Tumblr and I just wanted to try out writing some fanfiction, idek. It seemed like a good idea. WELP, I'm just writing this for God knows what reason and I haven't even finished watching Axis Powers Hetalia so there's that, but I still really, really like Germany and Italy together from doujinshi that I have checked out. And I like the whole idea of HRE being Germany, I think that's great, too. It's also my first time writing in this fandom, hurray! This is getting long now, so feel free to read and review, more chapters are coming! Also, I don't really know how to use this website, but I'm figuring it out!)