Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me.

Ludwig loved order and control over everything he did. Even if it meant repeating the same routine over and over again, he thought it was a good way to go through his life. That was the way he had lived for centuries, after all.

But it all had changed when he found a certain Italian in a tomato crate.

September, 1916

It was a beautiful day out in the forests by the Italian border. The sun was shining bright and warm in the sky, and on a better day Ludwig might have been relaxing in his backyard with his dogs, but this was the middle of the war, and he had a job to do.

His boss had assigned him the dangerous mission of trespassing the border and capturing the man he knew was a descendant of Rome. A nation Ludwig thought has on his side, until his boss learned of his alignment with the enemy. He was sure this wasn't truly his own fault, the Italian had himself been bossed around by some crazy people recently, but orders were orders.

Ludwig was beyond surprised how easy it had been to cross that border. He expected to see squads of soldiers on patrol, ready to shoot any foreigner, but all he encountered was one guard, who ran off the moment he saw the German.

He was sure this was some kind of trap to lure him into a false sense of safety. It couldn't be this easy. He scoured the forest around him, but found nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw a crate of tomatoes.

This was a trap. There was no way it could be anything else. Yet, even with such blatant signs, he couldn't help but wish to investigate further. He grabbed a long stick, and tapped the crate a few times, because what could a crate of tomatoes be doing out in the middle of a forest...?

"AHH!"

The sudden noise made Ludwig jump.

"I-I'm a tomato box fairy! L-let's be friends and play together!"

This was getting weirder by the second. Ludwig tried to find a way to open the box but found it to be sealed shut. However, the wood seemed quite old and worn down, perhaps a bit of brute force would do the trick...

"S-stop! W-what good it would do to open a box of harmless tomato fairies?"

With one last pull, Ludwig felt the wood crack, sending him flying backwards, still clutching the lid.

"I'm sorry! I'm not a tomato fairy at all, it was all a lie! PLEASE DON'T SHOOT ME, I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! I'LL DO ANYTHING, JUST DON'T SHOOT ME, I DON'T WANT TO DIEEEEE!"

The boy continued begging for his life, mentioning something about having relatives in Bavaria, that he knew Ludwig was a German and that he was Italy-

Wait. This couldn't be the guy he was supposed to be fighting.

"Let me ask you a question. Could you, by any chance, be a descendant of Rome?"

"You know Grandpa Rome? That's wonderful news! I thought you were a mean and scary man, but you're actually very kind!"

And Ludwig had thought he'd have to deal with a battle-hardened warrior, just like Ancient Rome once was, but this was a pathetic boy in a tomato crate. Or, maybe, he was just waiting for his chance to strike. That guy...

"How fun it is to have a new friend-"

Ludwig delivered a blow to the Italian's face to shut him up. "I will not be fooled by you! Go to hell, you pasta-loving freak!"

He expected some form of retaliation, but the boy fell down and continued his whimpering, rolling around in the grass in fear, leaving Ludwig speechless at the Italian's seeming helplessness.

The German, slightly hesitant, threw him back into the tomato crate, and eventually hauled him back to his homeland, as his boss had ordered.

'At that moment, I never imagined the extent to which that encounter would change my fate...' Ludwig thought, snapping his journal closed.

The Italian, whose name, as he had soon learned, was Feliciano, was far, far tougher to deal with than to capture. Getting information out of him was almost impossibly easy, as he panicked at even the slightest mention of harm and quickly spilled everything he knew, which, to be fair, wasn't very much. But he was completely useless when it came to doing anything besides cooking or cleaning, and, no matter what, he'd always interrupt Ludwig's work with his crying about how German women were terrifying.

The day Feliciano decided to write a song about him was the day he shipped him back to Italy. The man was nothing but a distraction.

But as hard as Ludwig tried to get rid of Feliciano, somehow, he always came back. After World War 1 was over, and Ludwig was working for months on end to pay his reparations to France, the Italian came back, begging for a job. For a moment, the German was happy to have a helping hand, but soon realized that he was going to be far more of a burden than someone worth keeping around, just as before.

And the biggest punch in the gut came when Feliciano declared himself to be an ally of Ludwig, forever cementing his place in the German's life.

What wonderful news it had been that he would have to deal with the Italian and his antics for years at a bare minimum. Any hopes he had that Feliciano changed his ways and became more serious about life quickly went out the window in the very first days of them trying to work together. He always tried to run away from training, constantly messed up both his and Ludwig's workspaces for a reason the German couldn't even fathom, was unable to grasp the use of the most basic weapons, and had an unbreakable instinct to go nap in the middle of the day, and in Ludwig's bed more often than not.

However, as useless of an ally as he was, he was the first friend he had made in centuries. After so long, Ludwig had finally found someone he could trust, someone he could talk to if needed, someone who could help him out in a pinch, even though he ended up being the one having to bail Feliciano out of all the messes he'd get himself into, greatly irritating the German. In fact, he had grown strangely used to having the Italian around. And as yet another war was also coming to a painful close in defeat, and years slowly turned to decades, Ludwig found himself accepting the bizarre situation he was in.

But that feeling applied only to the Italian. Ludwig hadn't seen a change in how he felt about his brother or other allies, which confused him quite a bit. Feliciano was just his ally, nothing else.

However, he couldn't help but think that there was something strange, almost familiar about the Italian, yet he, for the life of him, couldn't figure it out.

The night Ludwig first thought about it, he saw that one dream again. The same dream as he had the day he met Feliciano, and many times afterwards, but still as hazy and unclear as ever. Once again, he saw a little girl in a maid dress, sweeping with a deck broom. Everything, from the child to the broom, seemed familiar, like the German knew them personally, even though there was no way that could be true, having never actually seen the girl in his life.

All of it only served to frustrate Ludwig further. He knew that the dreams meant nothing; they were simply a strange coincidence. He knew that Feliciano was just his ally, and nothing more, but lately he had to force himself to remember that. The glances Ludwig kept stealing, the thoughts that wandered to the Italian far too often, the strange emotions bubbling inside that he had no chance of explaining, he tried to fight it all off.

"Ludwig! Dinner is ready, wake up!"

The German snapped up, meeting Feliciano's amber eyes, laced with concern, and he felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It had taken him several months, a few romance books and a couple extremely awkward conversations with both his brother and his friend Roderich before he could even begin to decipher what the strange feeling was.

"Are you okay?" Feliciano asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just got a bit caught up." Ludwig saw the Italian relax, as he got up and stretched slightly to relieve the stiffness in his muscles.

Feliciano's cheerful grin lit up his face. "I'll be waiting~" he said, walking off with a slight skip in his steps.

Ludwig followed shortly, thinking about the soft gaze that could pull at his heart without trying, the smile that made his worries go away, the being that radiated joy and lit up his gritty life. It was all those little things that slowly, but surely added up.

He came to a stop by the dinner table, where Feliciano waited, as he said he would, still wearing his signature smile.

"This time I decided to add a bit of sausage to the sauce, I hope you'll like it!" he said happily, gesturing at the plates of food.

The little moments of thought were the ones Ludwig enjoyed and appreciated the most, even before Feliciano revealed his affections on an otherwise peaceful night decades ago, and even though they distracted him, they were his moments of happiness.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around the Italian, feeling the warmth that the other's body gave off, and his own heart speeding up.

Because Ludwig loved Feliciano. No matter what happened, Feliciano was there for him, cared for him and helped in any way he could. Francis' rose beds and love poems spanning books, or Alfred's overly flashy displays of affection, none of them could compare to the bond that he felt they shared. Love might have been the last thing he would have asked for before, especially from a person like Feliciano, but after truly feeling and understanding it, he adored every bit of it; he adored every bit of him.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig murmured.

"Hm?"

"Ich liebe dich." He certainly wasn't one to throw the phrase around, saving it for special moments, like this.

"Ti amo anch'io," the Italian whispered back.

Feliciano was a distraction, but the greatest one Ludwig could have ever hoped to encounter.