Our Little Surprise

It's been almost a year or two since I've updated ANYTHING, hasn't it? Me be sorry...

Canada: It's OK, Riona. You were busy w/ school, eh.

I know...anyways, this is what happens when you read mpreg and GerIta all night and then write something.

Riona and Brazil belong to me and Sicily belongs to insane-assylum-13

Summary: After a dare goes horribly wrong, Germany is faced with a little...problem. Rated M for sexual themes, possibly detailed birth, and maybe language. WARNING: YAOI, MPREG!

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Miserable.

That would be the perfect word to describe the blonde nation as he emptied his guts into the porcelain bowl in front of him. His usually slicked back hair was unkempt and messy, and his icy blue eyes were squeezed shut. Italy stood over him, occasionally stroking or patting his back, with worried thoughts cascading through his brain. Why was Germany sick all of a sudden? Did it have something to do with the truth or dare game they played at Riona's house last week?

A majority of the world's countries sat around a fishbowl filled with papers with their names on them. Sicily reached in and swirled her hand around for a bit, finally wrapping her fingers around a slip and bringing it out for the group to see.

"Germany! Truth or dare?"

Germany closed his eyes and pondered this for a moment. There were many questions he wouldn't want to answer, and many things he wouldn't want to do. After almost a minute of thinking, the blonde nation opened his eyes.

"Dare." he said calmly.

"I dare you..." Now Sicily was the one in thought. "...to go into closet #6 with Italy!"

Some nations whistled and clapped, others stayed silent, and a certain French nation was heard whispering, "Ohonhonhonhonhon!" Germany's face flushed red and he turned to look at Italy, who had a lazy look and a silly smile plastered on his face. He obviously didn't understand what 'going into the closet' meant. Germany sighed and got up, taking the Italian's hand and dragging him behind.

"Mr. Germany, what is so bad about-a ze closet? Is it because it's-a dark?" Italy questioned, looking confused. Germany looked at him and shook his head, wondering how he could explain to his friend that it meant sex. The pair slipped inside but before the door closed, Sicily reached in and twirled her finger around her brother's stray curl, tugging and pulling at it. Italy let out a little 'eep' and his face flushed red also. Germany's eyes went wide. Many of the countries knew that Italy, and other nations with a stray lock of hair, will get aroused if someone messes with their curl. Germany's eyes went even wider as he realized what Sicily was trying to tell him. He was on bottom. Fuck.

By now the door was closed, locked, and secured with a metal slab. Germany cursed Sicily under his breath for knowing he would probably try to shoot or punch the door open. He looked over to Italy. The brown-haired nation was whimpering and squirming, his face a bright shade of scarlet. Germany growled to himself, knowing that the only way out would be to satisfy the younger man's lust. This was going to be a long afternoon.

After a few hours, Sicily finally opened the door, and the pair practically tumbled out, Germany without a shirt and Italy with his trousers unzipped. Sicily bit back a snicker. This was TOO funny! This had to be the best dare she'd come up with yet! She grabbed Italy's hand and helped him to his feet, leaving Germany to get up on his own. The man's entire head was a shade of bright red and he quickly scrambled up, trying to compose himself. But the memories kept flashing through his head, taunting his brain. He grumbled to himself and tried to focus on something besides Italy's moans of plea-no. Bad Germany.

"Now, let's continue!" Sicily announced. "Switzerland, truth or dare?"

Now Italy stood over his lover(Germany had confessed a few days after the truth or dare), stroking his blonde hair and waiting for him to stop vomiting. Finally, the heaving ceased, and Italy knelt down beside Germany, who was panting and groaning. "Ve~You-a need a doctor, love." he told the larger nation. Germany's forehead scrunched up and he shifted so he was sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall.

"Maybe so...this has been going on for a vile now, ja?" Germany moaned. His stomach still felt like a wrung-out rag and he cursed the bratwurst he'd eaten last night; it had tasted a little funky...

"Ve~ I'll schedule an appointment." Italy helped his lover up and to the bed, then went to get a phone. Germany sighed and laid back against the pillows. It was obviously the bratwurst that had messed with his system.

Right?

OOOOOOO, Germany you little bugger! What have you gotten yourself into? -w-

Germany: I hate you.

I know. By the way readers, sorry the chappie is so short, I'm about to go to brunch so I was hurrying it up. Review and you will get Canada hugs!

Canada: *spreads out his arms* Hugs?