This is for Curious1here who requested Germerica.
You Be You and I'll Be Me
As usual America was chomping on a burger that he'd just bought from his burger vending machine. He'd had it added to the vending machine room last week. He had to microwave the burgers out of there, but his next big plan was to get a McD's set up here.
Imagine it. After every world meeting in the US of A can go to McD's! Man, it would be awesome. Then after that he would have a playroom of monkeys installed just because monkeys are awesome. Take Prussia for example, he thought with a chuckle.
He was just on his way back when he passed by a door in the hall and heard Germany's voice shout, still somehow quavering, "A-About that chocolate you gave..."
"V-Ve?" Italy stammered.
"YOU GAVE THAT TO MANY PEOPLE?"
"E-er no, I d-."
"WHY NOT?" Germany cried out and America heard Germany slam his fists on the table. It was a familiar sound to any nation attending a World Meeting
"I di-."
"Yes!" Germany yelled. "Next week at precisely 0500 hours you will come to Germany and train. We shall engage in the watching of a movie."
"But I-."
"You will not ask questions on this. You will enjoy the movie. Then we shall have the dinner and th-."
The door flew open and America barely got out of the way as Italy went by, running for his life.
"Italy wait!" Germany cried, peeking out. He spotted America and frowned. "You were eavesdropping?"
"Yup," America said proudly and swore he could almost hear England groan even though the nation was nowhere around. "I think you scared him off."
"But I did everything by the book," Germany said, going back into the room. A spare conference room with fold out tables. Curious, America got up, stuffing the last of his burger in his mouth and followed.
"What book?"
Germany colored, clearing his throat he looked away. "Tell no one" he said, sounding more like an order. He looked around and then reached into his briefcase, pulling out a book entitled, "HOW TO WOO ITALIANS". "I could not find the german-language edition," he admitted.
"You're kidding," America said, cocking an eyebrow. Germany is crushing on Italy? People seemed to think America and England had something going on, but it was really just friendship now - at least to America. He had no doubt England was crushing on him. I mean who wouldn't?
"Why did he run?" Germany asked, flipping open the book. "I made the request of movie and dinner."
"Um... I got an idea," America said, making little guns of his hands he pointed at Germany and winked. "Books won't teach you this stuff. If you want to date Italy, you got be all romantic like my Hollywood movie stuff."
Germany looked skeptical.
"Hey dude, don't give that look."
"Very well, what do you suggest?"
"You go on a date with me. I'll show you how to be romantic! American-style!"
"You?" Germany said. "Are you capable of romance?"
"Better than you. Think of it this way, what've you got to lose? He can't run any faster."
Germany ruminated and finally said, "Agreed. What time shall we commence this... date?"
"Dude, first of all don't put it that way. You make it sound like a chore, but a good date's gotta be fun. You've gotta lighten up and just enjoy yourself."
"How will fun make a perfect date?" Germany asked, frowning. "A date must be perfect. Every detail needs to be exact to inspire the perfect emotion."
America face-palmed. This guy is hopeless.
(1)
They met at a cafe in D.C. Germany was already sitting at his table with a book, reading.
"You're late," Germany said sternly, not smiling at all. "Precisely fifteen minutes and 25 seconds."
"Uh, nice to see you too," America said, rubbing his nape and smiling. "Dude, that's all wrong. You don't greet you're date like that. Beside you should be at least fifteen minutes late. It's called being fashionably late."
"I fail to see how being late makes for a good date. I came here one hour early," Germany said, shutting his book and putting it in his coat pocket. Germany was dressed to the nines in a blue business suit with black loafers while America was in a white, tight-fitting button-down shirt and a faded pair of jeans.
"Dude, why are you dressed like that? We're supposed to have fun not go to a wedding."
Germany blushed a little at the comment and smoothed his suit. "But shouldn't I be dressed properly for my date? To wear any...," he finally eyed America's clothing. "That is proper dating clothes?"
"For our date, yes!" America said, pulling out a pair of sunglasses. "I think you got the formal dating idea down, but if you're going to win Italy's heart you need to learn to have some fun. Chill out and all. No one wants to date a stick in the mud. Now come with me," America said, sticking out a hand. "I'll show you lesson one."
Germany stopped to pay for his coffee and then they went outside to find a red car with a blue and white stripes down the middle. America patted the hood, saying, "This is my baby. It's a customized Ford GT! Yeah!"
"It's obnoxious," Germany said, squatting down and looking around it. "Cannot even compare to my country's BMWs."
"Geez, harsh man," America said, laughing. "I don't know what you mean. But anyhoo, you got to get good wheels. Italians loves cars. So pick something sporty and hot. I know you're country's cars don't rank with mine, but surely you can find something decent in Germany.
Germany stared at him flatly. "You're ego is astonishing."
"Thanks!" America said, giving a thumbs and Germany sighed. "Now let's roll! I gotta show you my next big lesson."
(2)
"A shooting range? How on Earth is this romantic?" Germany asked skeptically.
"Dude, look at my rack," America said, gesturing at the guns on the wall. He took down a rifle, locking and loading.
Germany picked one up, examining. He shook his head and said, "This again does not compare to my country's."
"So you're saying you can't fire without your country's guns? I didn't know you were that crappy of a marksman," America said sarcastically. If the sudden gleam in Germany's eye was anything to go by, America had just lit a fire in the other nation. He grabbed a semi-automatic off the wall.
"Bring it America," Germany said, already clicking the safety off.
#
"I can't believe it," Germany said, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes. They had fired for three hours straight. A grueling battle and had attracted half the other people in the range. Always coming within a shot of beating the other's score, but it was America just barely. "You defeated me?"
"Hey man, don't take it so hard. I'm sure if we had German guns you might have tied me," America said, slapping him on the back. "But we're a little late. We should get going to the next thing."
"Are you sure this will help me with Italy?" He said, taking the American's hand as he pulled him out of the gun range.
"Trust me, I'm teaching you some golden stuff here." America threw him a smile and for just a moment he nearly stopped in his tracks as the sight of a smirk. Germany smirked? He had never seen the nation smirk at anything. In fact, he had never seen him grin. What would that be like? Germany grinning? The image was appealing.
#
"America? I'm ready," Germany said sitting in a small room on a stiff bed with a hole for the face. He had on only a towel.
"Ready big guy?" America said, coming out in his clothes from earlier.
"Why are you dressed? I thought we were getting a massage."
"You are. I'm massaging you."
Germany almost bolted, but America stepped in front of the doorway, blocking it. "Why on Earth would you do that?"
"Relax," America laughed. "Massaging your lover is a great way to get to know each other. Just imagine massaging Italy. Think of him laid out on bed with only a towel."
Germany froze at that and from the blush on his face, America could tell he was thinking about it. Coughing, Germany looked away. "What do I do?"
"Lay down on your stomach there and let the magic fingers of America do their work," America said, grinning and gesturing at the cushioned table. As Germany laid down on his stomach, his back to America, America couldn't help but take in that toned figure. That ass!
Then again like all nations Germany had toned up for the Olympics.
#
Germany knew he should not look, but he really liked the way America's shirt showed that toned-figure. Those muscles. He admired muscles. Now that he thought about it, he was not sure what attracted him to Italy. Rome? Maybe it was because Italy was the only nation that stuck around him to the point of being un-attachable at times.
He bit back a groan as America rubbed oil into his back and began to grind his elbow into Germany's back, massaging hard. "Wow, you're tense. I think bricks are looser than you." Germany let that slide, keeping his arms at the table. The hot-cold oil America used felt good and as those fingers kneaded into him, he felt himself loosening up.
How long as it been since I let anyone touch me this way? He could not remember.
He almost sat up when America climbed over him, straddling his hips. "What are y-you doing?" He gasped, blushing.
"What? I have to get on you so I can get the right pressure," America explained, pushing down hard and holding it. Germany shuddered, his face flushing more. This is America. What am I thinking?
Still, he could feel the way America's knees brushed at his sides and then his mind wandered to other thoughts. How big is America? Most male nations were always curious how their dicks compared. It was a guy thing. Russia claimed - no was - the largest. They had measured, but while America bragged about his size, he never showed it any more than Germany had shown off his.
His face was pushed down as America's deft fingers pressed into the base of his scalp, releasing pressure in one spot, but kicking off a new pressure in his groin. That strength. It was striking all the right pressure points deeply and perfectly.
Germany groaned, wanting to turn over with America on his lap. The image didn't help. He could see America's naked torso with a sheen of sweat and his face panting. Germany was hard now and it throbbed against the table.
"All right," America said, climbing off. "Time to turn over."
Germany's eyes popped open and he looked up in horror. "No."
"C'mon. How else am I to massage your face?"
Germany shook his head.
"Quit being shy. You'll love it, I swear." He reached for Germany's side, but the nation pushed him away. "Hey dude, c'mon."
"No!" He said, holding off America's hand, he ducked out of reach, scrambling off the table and keeping his back turned to hide his erection. America did this too me. He was so ashamed.
"Bu-"
"NO!" He snapped, glaring at America who blinked in surprise. He regretted his harsh tone, but America's grin quickly snapped back to his surprise.
"Whatever you want. I guess I pushed it. I'll wait outside" America calmly strolled out. Germany stared in confusion. He didn't run off? Usually when he yelled at Italy the nation would run off at some point. He always came back, but he would leave for a time. America, however, didn't even flinch. He's stronger than I thought. That would make sense. This was the nation that stood up to the Soviet Union and fought for Germany to be reunited and the Berlin Wall to fall.
I had forgotten those things.
He had been busy with other stuff these days like the crisis in Europe.
#
"That movie was terrible. None of the details were historically accurate and, of course, you made the Americans the heroes," Germany grumbled as they left the movie. Somehow their fingers had ended up entwined, America speaking about holding hands being romantic. Personally, Germany found such public displays of affection both rude and embarrassing, but he had played along and found that he liked the feeling.
"But we are the heroes."
Germany almost missed the step. Typical Americans. "Why are the British always the villains?"
"Coz their accents are cool, duh!" America explained, laughing again. Germany touched his lips. He had felt it. The ghost of a smile. He stopped in his tracks, touching his mouth. Did I really almost smile at that inane comment?
"You okay?"
"How do you do it?" Germany asked, coming forward. "How do you stay so positive when you have so much responsibility?"
"A gift I suppose. England always says otherwise," he chuckled, his smile faltering a bit. "But's not easy. Sometimes I get sad thinking of the bad stuff that's happened."
"Yes," Germany agreed. "I too feel sad about that and my own dark past." They walked in silence together for a bit, hand in hand, watching the sun sink below the horizon. America's hand actually felt quite warm.
#
"It's a hill," Germany stated as America laid out a blanket under an old oak tree. "How sitting on grass romantic?"
"Man, you must live in a cave," America commented as he plopped spread eagle on his back and patted beside him. The last rays of the setting sun were disappearing and starts were filling the sky. "This is gonna be super-romantic. Now come sit down."
Germany frowned and reluctantly sat down folding his knees against his chest he kept his back straight and his posture perfect. He glanced to his side to see America taking something out of the picnic basket he'd brought.
"What is that?"
"Champagne, duh," America replied, holding up two wine glasses and a bottle of champagne.
"Champagne?" Germany said a little disappointed.
"Just the appetizer," America said, and then pulled out two bottles of German-imported beer.
Germany smiled. "You do understand me."
"Of course," America laughed, "But you gotta have some American beer later."
"That yellow water?"
"Nah, it's great."
Soon they popped off the cork and were drinking and snacking when there was a whistling noise followed by a crackling and Germany stared off to see a red firework bursting open in the sky.
"What's that?"
"A firework," American answered as more went off turning the sky red, blue, green and orange.
"I know that, but why are they going off?"
"I arranged a show for you," America said.
For me? Maybe this American isn't so bad at romance. Germany was surprised and felt himself relaxing. Slowly he leaned against America's shoulder and out of the corner of his eyes watched America enjoy the fireworks.
"Watch this!" America said as the fireworks built to a finale. "I had them customize for you. Wasn't easy given the short notice."
Germany raised and eyebrow and stared in wonder as the fireworks formed the American flag in the sky, then a heart and then the Germany flag. The black color of his flag was blue instead though.
"Sorry about making your flag have blue, but there are no black-colored fireworks," America explained.
"No, it's fine. It's wonderful. No ones ever done such a thing for me," Germany admitted. He felt touched and as he stared at America, he saw the light of the firework reflecting in those beautiful blue eyes and then somehow he was leaning forward. America noticed and met his gaze.
Thoughts poured through Germany's head. Isn't Italy I want? Yet the more he thought about it and today, the more he realized with America he could just be himself. It was just fun and relaxing. America didn't seem put off by Germany's bluntness in the slightest, but then America was often just as blunt himself.
He thought back to all the times he'd harped on America for his tardiness at World Meetings for his nonsense. How many nations did that and criticized America endlessly. Yet every meeting America showed up bright and ready to try again. They always yelled at America to be serious and stop his pranks.
Yet everyone remembered what America was like when he was serious. They had seen America very serious during the Cold War and after 9/11. Serious America was downright terrifying.
Maybe that's why he chooses not to be so serious.
"Germany?" America whispered, his lips still parted.
Germany went for it, locking their lips, he shut his eyes and tasted that American flavor. He tasted like Germany beer. Probably because he was just drinking one. America kissed back, his hands going to the back of Germany's head, sliding through Germany's hair.
Groaning, Germany pushed harder, flushing when America bit on his lower lip. He wound his hands around America. More thoughts and images flooded his mind as sensations ran through. All the times he sat by and watched the other nations criticize America. Yet America never got angry at their criticism of him.
He takes my temper like it's nothing. Like it's just a part of who I am. Not something to be changed or improved. All the European nations agreed on one thing: America was a lazy, idiot. He might be powerful, but he too stupid to be trusted. America still laughed and joked like the back-stabbing of Europe didn't bother him.
America slowly laid back, Germany sinking down on top of him, still kissing those lips hard. His erection hurt against his zipper. With America there was no finger-pointing or criticism. America commented on it, but that was it.
Around Italy I try to be what I am not, but with America I am me.
Germany pulled away, cupping America's cheeks. "I'm not Italy," America said.
"I know," Germany replied. "It was you that taught me just to be Germany. Thank you. It for that, that I want America."
America's eyes widened and he ran a hand down Germany's back. "I wanted to help you, but along the way I realize maybe you had a few things to show me."
"Just be America and I'll be Germany."
Shirt came off next and then pants. America gaped at Germany's toned chest. "Olympics?" Germany nodded.
"But you're good yourself," Germany said, kissing America again just as the younger nation was opening his mouth. Germany lay on top of him, under the stars, and Germany came in America in more ways then one.
#
"So that's the Big Scoop."
"Dipper. Big Dipper," Germany corrected.
"I say scoop is catchier," America replied. They were both naked and laying on their backs. Germany had one arm hooked behind America's neck and held him close. "And that one is the... um... the Hunter guy."
"Orion?"
"I thought it was Oreo."
Germany chuckled and they laid their a long time, America continually naming the constellations wrong.
They lay naked, staring up at the stars as America points the constellations out all wrong. Germany laughs and they make up their own as America convinces Germany to stop following the rules of what they are and just make them what you wish they'd be.
#
Germany looked up when the World Meeting doors opened thirty minutes early and there was America standing there. Early.
"America?" He said, gaping.
"Thought I'd be fashionably early for once," America said, coming over. "Is this seat taken?" When Germany shook his head, America sat down beside him, trying not to blush as he recalled two days ago.
"Abo-" Germany was interrupted when the doors flew open and there was Italy.
"GERMANY~!" Italy yelled, charging at the nation who stood up just in time to have Italy face-plant against his chest. "It's been too long."
Germany exchanged a look with America who raised an amused eyebrow. Germany gently unhooked Italy who looked confused as he was lead to a seat. "There's something I have to talk to you about?"
"Ah is this about eating all your food in your hotel room. I can explain you s-."
"No!" Germany said. America nodded and got up, leaving the room to give them some privacy.
#
America met a frumpy looking England in the hall. With the Olympics coming up, England had been grumpier then usual. England had a cup of tea that he was sipping.
"America, you're early?" England commented, assessing America up and down. He sniffed and corrected some of the wrinkles in America's suit with his hand. "You at least dressed better for once."
America stepped in front to block the door.
"What are you doing?" England demanded.
"Germany and Italy need a moment."
"For what?" England said and then his eyebrows raised. "Oh is he asking him out? Didn't think Germany had it in him."
"He's turning him down," America replied.
England chuckled. "That was a good one, git."
But a moment later, the door opened and a tearful Italy ran out of the room. "Germany said I can't hug him anymore!" Then he bolted down the corridor.
"As if that would stop him," England said, frowning, then he looked up at America suspiciously. "What's all this about?"
America shrugged. And though it wasn't obvious that Germany and America were holding hands under the table, everyone did notice their new friendliness. Every time Germany felt his temper rising a squeeze of America's hand would come him down. Suddenly, World Meetings became so much brighter.