Chapter 1: The Fight

To say that Germany was frightened would have been a gross understatement. He grabbed the arm rests of his car seat with a white-knuckle grip, his slicked-back hair fluttering coming undone as the wind rushed through the open roof of the car. His blue eyes were wide open with fear as the car whipped around a corner into another lane. He glanced with blatant disbelief at the driver.

Italy was completely calm as he drove with a content smile, one arm resting on the open window as he drove one-handed, his hair batting madly around his head. Germany could not believe his eyes as he realized that Italy was driving with his usual narrow squint.

Germany had no idea how Japan was reacting, knowing that the last member of the trio had driven with Italy before. Germany was in no state of mind to check the back seat, keeping his eyes glued forward as if his concentration could save them from a crash. To his immense relief, he could see the white house in the distance. The World Meeting was being hosted by America this year. Germany's moment of relief was gone as soon as it came as Italy breezed through an intersection, the nose of the car barreling toward the building.

"Italy!" Germany shouted over the honking of other cars

Just as they were about to drive onto the sidewalk, Italy jerked the wheel to the side.

Germany raised a hand to the handle attached to the ceiling, shutting his eyes.

The car turned to a 90-degree angle, sliding into a perfect parallel park.

Italy let out a content sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt. He leaned forward in his seat, pulled a comb out of his pocket, and combed his auburn hair in the rearview mirror. "What a pretty day for driving!"

Germany sat there for a moment, his chest heaving as his mind caught up with him. "I- Mein Gott." He turned, straining against the seat belt as he checked on Japan. "Japan are you okay?"

Japan was sitting in the car with a seemingly serene air. Germany would have thought he were completely fine if not for his ashen complexion, his dilated eyes, and the fierce white grip his hands had on his knees. "Yes." He said simply, his voice unusually shaky.

Germany looked over to Italy, his eyebrows furrowing into a fierce glare. "Were you trying to get us killed?!"

Italy's hand paused in mid-air as he turned to Germany. "What do you mean? We were totally safe! And I got us here early!" He pointed to the car's dashboard.

Germany glanced over to the clock briefly. 8:26. They were supposed to be here by 9:00. "You call that safe?!"

"Of course! We didn't crash, did we?" He asked.

"Just because we didn't crash doesn't mean we were safe! Multiple traffic laws broken, you almost ran over several birds and a cat…" He trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Italy would be the death of him, surely. But then again, today he almost was.

Italy smiled. "But we didn't crash! We didn't run over any birds or cats, and don't tell me you haven't ever broken a couple traffic laws yourself, Germany."

"I haven't." Germany's hand left his face as he glared over at Italy.

Italy's smile dropped. "You haven't? You haven't taken a five-minute drive without a seat belt?"

"No."

"Changed lanes without a turn signal?"

"Never. I don't have a death wish."

"Even when no one was there?" Italy asked, quirking a brow.

Germany crossed his arms with stubborn pride. "Of course not."

Italy furrowed his brow. "Hmm." He turned in his seat. "What about you, Japan?"

Japan finally looked up from the floor. "A- a couple of times, I suppose."

"Exactly! Japan does it, Romano does it whenever he drives, everyone breaks a couple of traffic laws sometimes. Am I really so bad if I do it?"

Germany raised an eyebrow at Italy. "I'm not sure I understand your-"

"-Excuse me," Japan interrupted, escaping the car frantically. He stumbled over to a nearby trash can and bent over it, vomiting.

Before Germany's hand even contacted his seat buckle, Italy was already there rubbing soothing circles on Japan's back. "There there, it's okay! I'm sorry, Japan, I forgot you got motion sickness."

As Germany unbuckled his seatbelt, he remembered his unopened water battle sitting in the cupholder. He grabbed it before leaving the car and joining the other two nations. Just as he made it over there, Japan straightened and spit into the garbage can. "It is okay, Italy."

"Doesn't look okay," Germany added as he handed Japan the water bottle.

"Thank you, Germany." He took a long drag from the water bottle, swishing the water around his cheeks before he swallowed it. "It is good to get it out before my presentation, I suppose." He took another sip.

Italy brightened, a hand returning to Japan's shoulder. "That's right! Your presentation! Are you ready?"

"As ready as I can be," he said as he capped the water bottle. He led the two back to the car to grab their stuff. "I've been working on it for months. I practiced all day yesterday."

Germany was not surprised. Japan was one of the most hardworking people he knew, and he had become accustomed to the fact that he wanted to provide a quality presentations for the other nations. "You sound prepared."

Japan nodded, swinging the strap of his laptop bag around his shoulder.

Germany leaned across the driver's seat to grab his notebook and pen. He stood up and was about to pat his pockets for his backup pen as Italy brushed past him.

"You're going to do great!" He bent over to grab his notebooks and box of pastels.

Germany shook his head at his colleague's antics, trying not to focus too hard on how well-tailored Italy's suit was as he straightened back up. Germany's eyes flickered over Italy. He was wearing a steel grey suit, tailored to fit his lithe form, with a black button-up shirt and a tie that matched his suit. His hair was perfect, of course, despite it just being finger-combed.

Italy waved. "Germany, you okay?"

To Germany's despair, his cheeks were turning pink. "I was making sure you looked presentable." He turned to Japan, noticing the slight upturn on the smaller nation's lips. Damn, he noticed.

"Do I look okay, Germany?"

Germany had no doubt in his mind, but he surveyed Japan quickly just to make sure. He was wearing a black suit, also tailored, with a starched white shirt and a black tie. He nodded. "Yes."

Italy snickered. "You may want to check yourself, Germany…"

Germany frowned. "I checked myself in the mirror this morning, What I'm wearing is perfectly fine." He remembered his black suit, his white shirt, his grey tie.

Italy pointed at Germany's hair. "Your gel came undone while we were driving."

Germany's eyes widened slightly. He self-consciously smoothed his hair down with his hand. "Is it okay?"

"It's… not the best." Japan answered. "Perhaps we can fix it inside."

Germany looked up at the white house, decisively smoothing his hair down again. "Right." He walked toward the building, starting up the steps.

Behind him, Italy and Japan exchanged a glance before they followed him up.

Their steps echoed on the floor of the entrance hall as they made their way through. Germany blushed slightly as he noticed all the attention they were gaining. How could they not gain attention? They were the personifications of nations. At the sound of a couple whispers, Germany flattened his hair again.

"There's a restroom." Japan muttered to Germany.

Germany made a beeline toward the restrooms, resisting the urge to fast-walk. That would make the situation worse. The more dignity he held on to, the better.

His mouth fell open as he glanced in the mirror. While the strands had their gel on still, his hair was still lazily drooping to the side in a middle part. There was no way to fix this, was there?

Upon hearing Italy laughing, he turned fiercely. "Stop laughing! There is no way I can go into the meeting like this!"

Italy's laughing reduced to a giggle. "Sorry, Germany, your expression was just so funny. I can fix it!"

Japan's brow furrowed slightly. "How?"

Italy's smile dampened slightly. "Germany's not going to like it,"

"Anything is better than this." Germany protested, refusing to look in the mirror again.

Italy withdrew the comb from his pocket. "You're going to have to wash your hair in the sink."

There were a couple of quiet seconds. The only sound was the dripping of a faucet in a sink.

"No." Was Germany's simple answer.

Italy's smile fell away. "B- why not? You said yourself you can't walk into the meeting like this!"

"What do we do if someone walks in and I'm bent over a sink?" Germany couldn't even comprehend how humiliating that would be.

"Nothing?" Italy offered. "What are they going to do, tell us to stop? We're nations! Anyone who walks in here will just ignore us."

"There's no way I'm doing that." Germany crossed his arms stubbornly.

Japan raised his palms in a peace-making gesture. "Germany, it is really the only thing Italy can do. Nobody will take us seriously otherwise."

Germany paused, considering Japan. He sighed, turning to the mirror. His hair was as messy as ever. Not to mention getting it fixed might ease Japan's mind about how seriously others would take his presentation. "Fine. How long do we have?"

Italy tilted the Rolex on his right wrist up. "Twenty-five minutes."

"My hair should dry in time…" He allowed.

"If we start now," Italy pointed out.

Without a word, Germany unbuttoned his jacket and handed it to Japan. He threw his tie over his shoulder, leaned over, and turned on the water. He took one last resolving breath before dipping his head into the sink and scrubbing furiously.

They walked into the meeting at 8:50, Germany's cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. Germany's hair was in a side-part, his bangs combed toward the left side of his face. He took his seat without saying a word to the others, hoping that no-one would notice. Italy took a seat on his right, and Japan on his left. The both of them gave him reassuring glances that he ignored as he took out his paper and pens. All was going well, he supposed. No one had seemed to-

"Dude!" A shrill voice interrupted his thoughts.

Germany let out a sigh just loud enough for him and his friends to hear. Of all the people who could have noticed…

"Ciao, America!" Italy said.

America high-fived him. "'Sup, dudes?! Germany, my man, is that a new hairstyle?"

Germany sighed again, this time loud enough for America to hear. "Ja, I only have it because-"

"'Cause it looks pretty great!"

Germany looked up for the first time at America. "What?"

"Yeah!" America planted both palms firmly on the table. "You look less angry this way, y'know. It's something different, but still sensible! Looks good, man!" He offered Germany a handshake. "Welcome, by the way. Hope the D.C. traffic wasn't too bad for you."

"Thank you." He sent a glance over to Italy. "The traffic wasn't the problem."

Italy had the sense to rub the back of his head sheepishly.

America nodded. "Glad to hear it. Japan, dude! How've you been?" He went around Germany to take the unoccupied seat next to Japan. The two unlikely friends launched into a conversation about Japan's presentation.

"I wanted to invite you and Japan over to my house for dinner after the meeting." Italy offered, looking over at Germany. Though Germany knew he was trying to hide it, he could see that Italy's eyes kept flickering up to the new hairstyle.

Germany considered the invitation, turning his notebook to an open page and writing the date at the top as a distraction. "That sounds good, I don't think I have anything going on this evening." Germany smiled a bit at the thought, excited to join Italy for dinner that evening. His smile faded, however, as he realized that a tiny bit of him was hoping that Japan would not be able to make it. That it would just be him and Italy. Together. Eating dinner. Just talking and laughing. He hunched over his paper and determinedly scrawled the words: Meeting- Ocean Pollution – America. This was no way to think. Japan was their friend. And Italy… He looked over at the nation as he thumbed through the pages of his note book to a fresh page.

Ever since World War Two… that one Valentine's day… it spurned feelings, thoughts, and confusion in him. And now in 2019… It's been almost 80 years. He has been in denial for a long time, but he was logical. He knew that he felt for Italy. He's known he has for a long time now. But it was never to be. Maybe if they were human. Maybe- maybe if Italy felt the same way about him. He spurned the thought away as America made his way to the other side of the table, sitting at the head, opposite of Germany. He noticed America leaning over to Russia and pointing to Germany.

He leaned over his papers again. Damn America…

The meeting was called to order at 9:02. It was decided that Japan would present his bit right after lunch (which was catered by Red Robin, America added). In the meantime, they would discuss the pollution in the ocean, how big the problem was, and after lunch Japan would give his presentation on potential solutions. During the meeting, Japan was dutifully taking notes on what was happening, as was Germany. As he glanced over at Italy's notes, he noticed that he was drawing with his pastels. Upon further examination, he noticed that he was drawing Switzerland, who was currently speaking. It was a perfect picture. He furrowed his brows. While he was plenty impressed with Italy's drawing skills, he felt that the middle of a meeting was not the place to utilize them. Nonetheless, he let it be. It wasn't worth the effort.

America adjourned for lunch gleefully, excited to share the catering with everyone. Everyone ate their meals gladly. Germany listened as Japan accepted Italy's dinner invitation, guilt-ridden as he felt a twinge of disappointment. Everyone finished their lunch around twenty minutes into the hour and a half long break, separating into different groups to chat.

The trio joined a conversation with France, America, England, Russia, and Canada. They were talking about current affairs going on in their country. "My country is kinda' hell right now, dudes." America said with a smile. "My boss is stirring the pot quite a bit, and I can tell your bosses are getting tired of him." He looked around the group, noticing that everyone was kind of avoiding his eyes. "It's fine, guys, I can join the club there." He said with a bit of a laugh. "What about you, France? You've been kind of quiet,"

France shrugged a slight bit. "Nothing much to report here!" He said in a relieved tone. "All has been rather peaceful."

America snickered. "We know. You haven't really gotten up to much in a long while. Even during the world wars you were kind of sitting back, huh?"

France allowed a smile and shook his head, much to Germany's relief. He was worried that this would aggravate France, but he appeared to take it in good humor. "What can I say? I can only do what my boss says."

Germany was about to agree but decided to stay silent. The world wars were still a bit of a sensitive topic for him, and he didn't like bringing up his past mistakes. Even if it was the bosses of the country that caused them.

"To be fair, since the United Nations were formed there haven't been nearly as many wars as there were back in the old days." England chimed in, raising a single bushy eyebrow.

"Well yeah, dude, but we've still had stuff going on even after that. France has been kind of chilling except for a bunch of strikes, I feel like you've been sitting on your ass since you caused Holy Rome's fall. And that was before I was even born!" America pointed out with a laugh.

There was a tense pause. Germany felt confused as Italy tensed beside him. He looked over as he noticed that Italy's eyes were wide open.

"What?" Italy almost whispered.

America continued to laugh, unaware of what he'd just done. "Yeah, dude! That was pretty badass, but that's no excuse to leave the rest of the work to us." He glanced around, wondering if his jokes landed. But all eyes were on Italy and France.

Germany glanced around the group, gauging everyone's reactions. England was aghast. Japan's expression was almost exactly like it was back in the car. Like he was going to throw up. Russia's usual smile was not on his face, making him even more unsettling than usual. Canada and America just seemed confused, looking at each other questioningly. Germany noticed with a pang that England and France shot urgent looks at each other before considering Germany for a moment. What the hell was going on?

"France… he's kidding, right?" Italy said it with a small smile, but his voice was still almost at a whisper. Almost like if he spoke any louder, the atmosphere would shatter. "You wouldn't…"

France finally looked into his eyes. "Italy…" He sighed, seemingly collecting his thoughts. "I- yes… I did, but-"

Italy launched forward and his hands seized France by the collar, effectively interrupting France's explanation. He pushed France up against the wall, his usually soft brown eyes filled with poison.

"You bastard!"

The others were too taken aback to take any action.

"Little brother, I-"

"I am not your little brother!" Italy pulled France away from the wall and slammed him back into it. "Never! Not after what you did!"

The lull of conversation in the background faded into nothingness as the other nations started to notice. Germany barely noted Spain and Prussia materializing behind him, watching what was going on.

France opened his mouth and closed it, apparently making the wise decision not to say anything.

"He was a child!" Italy shouted, louder than ever. His usual light aired voice was replaced by something raw and dark. Something pained and tortured. "And you killed him!" Italy leaned into France, his voice still loud. "I loved him! You knew I loved him! I told you and you killed him!" He once again slammed France into the wall, harder this time. The sickening smack echoed through the room. "He was a child!" He repeated in full volume.

Germany was shocked out of his frozen state, pushing England to the side as he gripped Italy's shoulders and pulled him away from France. Italy struggled against Germany's arms.

"Let me go! Let me-" Italy broke out of Germany's arms. He stepped forward and pulled his fist back, stepping forward and swinging it into France's face. France reeled back from the force.

"Italy!" Germany's eyes wide, he stepped forward and grabbed at Italy again. This time, Italy made no attempt to escape. He curled into Germany's chest and stayed. Though this display would have normally embarrassed Germany, he knew that he had to get Italy out of there. There was no way he could stay there after what happened. He looked back up at France.

France stood there and touched his fingers below his nose, pulling away bloodied fingertips. But he didn't look mad or angry. He didn't look shocked. He looked sorrowful. Germany could have sworn that he looked at him in this way. Not Italy.

Germany looked around. Only a few nations including himself were surprised. He noticed that Spain, Prussia, Austria, and Hungary looked crestfallen. He furrowed his brow. What was wrong with these people? "Let's go, Italy."

Italy said nothing, allowing Germany to push him slightly toward the door. Germany's hands never left Italy's shoulders. As his back turned, he heard Japan.

"I have to go."

"Japan, you still have to do your presentation." America said, his voice unusually muted.

Japan pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. "My laptop bag is in my seat. Everything is already prepared. The slides should explain everything." He handed it to America. "I trust you will deliver this presentation well, but I have to help my friend."

America's fist curled around the flash drive. "Should have expected that. Take good care of him, man."

Japan nodded once and turned to fast walk toward Germany and Italy.

Germany continued his path, stopping as he passed his brother. "Prussia." He began, facing him. "I know you and France are close. Why didn't you help him?"

Prussia's normally cheerful, confident face was one of heartbroken sorrow. His normal raspy voice was soft with tenderness. "Because he deserved it."