Title: With You, Everyday's A Picnic
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Germany/North Italy, with brief mentions of England, France, Russia, Canada, America and Japan.
Genre: Fluff/Humour
Rating/Warnings: G, A bad Knock-knock joke, terrible use of German and slight crack?
Summary: Written for aph-fluffathon prompt, "Germany and Italy plan/pack for a picnic". I won't list the whole prompt here because I don't want to spoil the ending :P
Notes: I finally wrote a fic which isn't Giripan, lol. OP, whoever you are, I hope you will like it. Also, since my unofficial beta is currently traipsing across the globe, I apologize for any typoes/bad phrasings, and any instances of OOC-ness.

~.*.~

Germany liked neat, orderly things. If he had his way, everything would have a book manual to it, complete with sketches and diagrams too, for things like 'How to Put Italy in a Headlock That Will Have Him Behaving Properly in Less Than Ten Seconds Flat'. Or 'The Best Authoritative Stance to Command to Scare France and England into Ceasing Their Petty Squabbles over Clothes, Cooking or Condoms'.

Unfortunately, the world's problems didn't always come with a handy book of solutions. So most times, Germany had to come up with his own manner of handling these things, which he never failed to thoroughly jot down in his logbook.

Today was one of those days – he was currently preoccupied in drawing up the seating plan for the next World Conference. He felt it was necessary, especially after the last conference which ended somewhat disastrously (he sighed, have they ever not been disastrous?) because Russia kept trying to seat himself beside America, who insisted vehemently ("No way, dude! You're too creepy!") that he'd prefer sitting next to Japan so that they could discuss about that new Wii game ("A-ah? But America-san, we're in the middle of a conference now–").

In Russia's attempt to get closer to America, he accidentally sat on Canada twice - the first time, because he didn't actually see Canada already on the chair itself ("M-Maple!"), and the second time, because he mistook Canada for America and decided to sit on 'America' to prevent him from running away ("Oh America, why do you keep avoiding me? Let's be friends, da?").

Germany frowned, brows furrowed tightly. He was already getting a headache just by recalling those incidents. He continued sketching out the plan, his pen hovering over a blank space in the corner of the sheet while he pondered who next to place. He finally decided on a name and was about to write it into the designated spot when abruptly, the door to his study swung wide open and smashed into the wall with a loud bang and–

"GEEEERMANY~!"

–and Germany's hand slipped, the nib of the pen skidding across the neat white surface, leaving behind an ugly, asymmetrical squiggle.

As Germany gaped blankly at the offending curl on the paper, Italy Veneziano skipped into the room, all smiles and bubbling happiness when he greeted Germany.

"Veeee, Germany, Germany! Ciaaooooo~!"

Germany sighed, one hand massaging the spot between his eyes, while the other crumpled the piece of paper into a tiny ball.

"Hello, Italy."

"It's a nice day today, isn't it Germany?"

"Mmmhh, yes. Very nice indeed." Germany replied absent-mindedly, reaching for a new sheet of paper to redraw his seating plan, hoping that Italy would somehow take his less-than-enthusiastic reply as a hint that he was currently very busy. Why had he expected Italy to do so was a mystery to him, since he was already quite aware that Veneziano was terrible at reading anything, unless it was about cooking or art, or perhaps picture books with pretty women in them. Still, Germany hoped and as always, was disappointed.

"What are you doing, Germany?" Italy asked, peering over the other's shoulder inquisitively.

"I'm drawing up a seating plan for the next World Conference. I think that if we strategically place everyone based on their level of acquaintance versus their enmity, we should be able to disperse and even out the tension some members may harbour against each other. That way, things may run a lot quicker and smoother, and we might actually get to decide on a few things, for once."

"Aaaaaahhh, that's really wonderful." Italy was clearly impressed, even if he didn't quite comprehend what exactly Germany just said. But it sounded really impressive – most things Germany did or said sounded impressive to him – so he nodded enthusiastically. "Germany's so cool, you put in so much effort just for one silly meeting."

"It's not 'silly', Italy. There are usually a lot of important things we have to discuss."

"But everyone's always fighting. And I never really know what's going on."

"That's why it's important to plan all this, to ensure the next meeting runs as smoothly as possible."

"Aaaahh, you're really amazing."

Germany only made a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, and continued working on the seating plan. Italy watched, curious at first because Germany always seem to be working so hard, and he wondered, what are those lines for? Italy squinted and oh, tables and chairs which really look more like tables and tables, but Germany probably didn't need to know that. Italy lifted his gaze from the paper to study the German's features, and smiled. Presently, he decided it was a good time to poke Germany, because Italy was getting bored and he had to remedy that. Otherwise he might fall asleep and Germany didn't like that because Italy was inclined to drool a little in his sleep, and Germany didn't like drool getting on his papers.

Prod, prod, prod...

Another resigned sigh and then–

"Italy, what are you doing?"

"Oh nothing, just prodding because Germany's arms are so nice and cushy and really easy to prod, ve~"

Germany gritted his jaw exasperatedly, scribbling with his pen a little faster.

"Well, would you please stop doing that? It's very distracting."

"Buuuuh, okay."

For five whole minutes, there was only the sound of the pen scratching softly against the drawing sheet and the occasional shuffle of papers as Germany added the last few points to his notes. He was surprised by the Italian's ability to stay quiet for more than the first twenty seconds, and was just thinking he might be able to finish his work after all when he felt a hand tugging persistently at his sleeve.

"Germany, Germaaaannnyyyy~"

"Yes Italy, what is it this time?"

Italy brighten up considerably, throwing his arms wide open, a big bright smile painted across his face."Let me tell you a Knock-knock joke in German. You have to answer back in German, okay? "

Germany was hesitant at first, but nodded anyway, blue eyes scrutinizing at the other man uncertainly. "... Okay."

"Knockvurst, knockvurst!"

Knock... what?

"... Wer ist das?"

"Ein cannibal!"

"...WAS?"

"Du bist im Begriff zu sterben und gefressen werden~! Isn't it so funny?"

To which Germany's reply was to promptly fix Italy into a headlock, his brows knitted so tightly together he swore they would probably end up as a unibrow when he was done choking some sense back into the Italian. After a lot of squealing and crying and apologizing from the other man, Germany finally relented and released his hold.

"Honestly, I don't know where you learn such silly jokes. It made no sense whatsoever."

"Oh, I saw America and Japan watching a TV show together. They were both laughing really loud... well, no, only America was laughing loudly, but Japan, he had a smile on his face too." Italy loosen the tie around his neck, giving his shirt a couple of quick brushes before smiling back at Germany. "They both seemed to like it alot, and I asked America about it. And then he said 'Dudeeeeeeeeee, Germans have no sense of humour. They only like Knock-knock jokes ah ha ha ha ha ha!' So I thought I'd just try it on you to cheer you up."

Germany's forehead landed spectacularly in his palm. "And you actually believed America?"

An awkward silence, complete with Italy's blank stare and the ensuing "Ve...?" thereafter convinced him that yes, Italy did believe America.

"Either way," Germany continued, still frowning hard. "All this talk isn't going to help me get my work done."

"Awww Germany, can't we take a break for a while? You've been working really hard lately, and I'm just worried about your health, see? All work and no play makes a very angry German... not that you're aren't already fierce enough, but ve, it makes you angrier!"

Germany's cheeks coloured slightly then – somehow knowing that Italy worried about his well-being time to time never failed to put a funny, fuzzy feeling deep within his chest. He cleared his throat, coughing into his fist. "Well, when you put it that way, you do have a point."

Italy beamed and practically launched himself at Germany, curling his arms tightly around the blond's left arm. "Yay, so we get to go for a picnic then?"

Germany blinked, surprised. "Huh?"

"I thought we could go for a picnic together today! It's a nice day after all, and Germany should really get out more and just relax."

"Italy, I still have work– "

Veneziano's face fell, dejected.

" –but I suppose you're right. Sometimes it's good to just relax, and yes, today's a good day for a picnic."

"Yaaaaaay~! Let's go prepare the food now!" Italy leapt up joyously and in a flurry of movements, bounded towards the kitchen, excitement in every skip.

Germany shook his head, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips and followed suit.

'*'

There were a number of times where Italy Veneziano proved that with enough focus and determination, he was force to be reckoned with. He did trash the Ottoman's naval army as a child, after all. As he watched Italy carefully selecting the ingredients to prepare the food, Germany couldn't help but wish that Italy would be just as competent in other things as he was in the kitchen.

Not for the lack of trying of course, and Italy did try very hard to get things right. Germany found himself appreciating that, even if 'trying' didn't always equate to Italy doing it right in the end. Still, it would be nice if he didn't have to worry about his friend at all the time. There was however, a tiny part of him that would continue worrying about him, even if Italy was more competent. Germany tried not to think too much about that part – it put a ridiculous blush upon his cheeks whenever he did.

"Could you pass me some bowls please, Germany?"

Veneziano's voice broke the taller man out of his reverie and nodding an affirmative, reached for some clean bowls from the cabinets.

"Grazie~!" Italy said, still beaming as he began placing the vegetables he'd chopped up and cooked earlier into one of the bowls, mixing them together with a wooden spoon.

"Is there anything you'd like me to help you with?" Germany asked, looking about at the assortment of utensils and food spread out on the table.

"Aaahh, well, could you help me cut the ciabatta into slices for the bruschetta?" Italy's smile grew wider when Germany sliced a piece of the bread for his inspection, eyebrows quirked in an unsaid question. "Yes, that size would be just nice. Thank you Germany, you're always so helpful!"

And so they continued in such fashion – Italy doing the main preparation for most of the dishes, while requesting Germany's help in cutting up more bread or slicing the salami; Germany in turn, made sure that Italy didn't miss out on anything for the picnic, checking that they had enough food and drinks to last the day, and helping Italy to decide the best way to pack the picnic basket.

When they were done packing the basket, Germany made sure to clean up the kitchen, even though Italy insisted that they could do so after the picnic.

"It's all right." Germany said, wiping the table clean of crumbs and vegetable bits. "If I clean this now, you don't even have to worry about it when we get back from picnicking, and there's no danger of forgetting it either."

Italy couldn't disagree with that. Once they were done cleaning (Germany wiped the table one last time with disinfectant to ensure it stayed germ-free), they were finally ready. Thirty-five minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, the two friends were seated together underneath an old oak tree on a grassy hill overlooking a quaint little village.

Humming a little tune, Italy carefully unpacked the food from the basket, laying them out on the mat Germany had placed on the ground.

Bruschetta, antipasto, caponata, finnochiona, provolone…

Germany smiled when Italy took out a bowl of pasta salad – even for a picnic, he hadn't failed to sneak in some of his favourite food, but well, Germany supposed Veneziano wouldn't be Veneziano without pasta. That thought made the blond realize how thirsty he was and he reached into the basket absent-mindedly, thinking of opening a bottle of his favourite beer.

It was only when his hand touched the bottom of the now-empty basket did he realized something else with a sinking feeling – he had forgotten to pack his own favourite dishes for the picnic. He was so engrossed in making sure Italy didn't forget anything important that he'd completely overlooked his own share.

"Germannnyyy, here~"

Germany turned his gaze back to the Italian, the look of dismay on his face changing into one of surprise when he saw Italy holding out a bottle towards him – a bottle of his favourite Dunkel bier. "When did you…?"

Italy smiled sheepishly, one hand lifted up to brush the hair back from his eyes. "Ve, while you were busy cleaning, I noticed that Germany hadn't packed his share yet. So I took the liberty of adding some of your favourite food and beer into the basket as well."

He reached forward, passing a bowl of bratwurst and potato salad to the blond, who only stared speechlessly. Germany blinked, and then blinked a couple more times before letting out a tiny sigh, his lips curved into a smile.

"Thank you, Italy." As he accepted the bowl from the other, he leaned in a little further and brushed a quick, soft kiss against Veneziano's forehead.

Italy was almost completely over the moon with glee, and while Germany didn't think it was possible, his smile grew wider, his disposition even sunnier. He threw his arms around Germany in a fierce, tight hug. "Veee, I'm so glad Germany's really happy~! It's really nice to see you smile so much."

Germany tilted his head a little, pondering about Italy's words. Well, yes, he did smile more whenever he was around Veneziano and he guessed that was what counted the most – that even if he generally failed in getting lots of things right, Italy never failed to put a smile on Germany's face.

"I have to say your wurst still taste like shit though." Italy made a face as he bit tentatively into one of the sausages. "I know! Maybe next time we can make wurst together and try to find a way to make them taste better~!"

Germany could only laugh at that, before taking a quick sip of beer. "Yes, we should do that together someday."

Above them, the oak leaves brushed against each other, rustling lazily in the slow breeze.

-Ende-

:::

:::

Translation for the terrible Knock-knock joke:

"Knockvurst, knockvurst!"
"Wer ist das?"
"Ein cannibal!"
"...WAS?"
"Du bist im Begriff zu sterben und gefressen werden~!"

"Knock, knock!"
"Who is that?"
"A cannibal!"
"…WHAT?"
"You are going to die and be eaten~!"

- This was of course, based on that ridiculously hilarious South Park episode "Funnybot": http:(doubleslash)www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)watch?v=WnszesKUXp8

Yes, America and Japan watch Southpark together lol. If you haven't watched it before, I suggest you do, just for kicks lol. Summary of the episode is here: http:(doubleslash)en(dot)wikipedia(dot)org(slash)wiki(slahs)Funnybot

- Considering this is my first time writing a full GerIta fic, I hope I managed to get their characterizatiosn right. Critiques/comments on that is much appreciated and don't hesitate to tell me if you think I went wrong with these two.

- Bruschetta, antipasto, caponata, finnochiona, provolone cheese are all common Italian picnic food. I'm sure most people know what bratwurst is, and Dunkel bier is awesome. Google them to see how delicious they all look :3

- And again, thank you for reading~