Disclaimer: I don't own it, I just ship it
Warning: strong language, boy x boy pairings
This one was inspired by my recent (awful) attempts at learning poker and my huge desire to write another short story with our boys as Nations again. Please excuse any poker-related errors in this chapter. This is the only chapter that will have lots of poker details.
oOo
Italia Veneziano was not an intimidating man. He tried to avoid fights whenever he could and squeaked in the face of danger. Military power was not one of his strong points…but hot damn, could he play cards! For some inexplicable reason, Kings, Queens, and Aces always flocked to his hands. He had never lost a game of poker in his entire life. There were some who said he had the devil's luck, but were mostly laughed at when they tried to warn others. There was nothing about the little man who seemed more concerned with food than world affairs that struck others as conniving or suspicious.
And then they played cards with him.
It was amazing how quickly one's perspective on the seemingly innocent and naïve Italian could change over the span of a poker game. Sometimes all it took was a single round. The number of Nations who knew this from experience was only a handful, but that didn't stop them from trying to beat him anyway.
Naturally, they all failed.
When it came to sorting out the economy or threatening others to avoid conflict, Veneziano was quick to hide behind his older brother or Germany; but the second he picked up a hand of cards, he became a different person. His techniques were incredibly advanced, ruthless, and unheard of. He was like the Roman Empire of card players. North Italy had more skill with a card deck than his grandfather did with a sword. Just when his competition thought they had him beat, he'd pull an insane stunt that won him the entire game in a matter of minutes. The story the Bad Touch Trio liked to tell the most was when they had him on the ropes (in their minds) and Italy pulled another crazy tactic – he bet his own brother instead of money.
As the slip with Romano's name on it left Veneziano's fingertips and floated onto the growing pile of money in the pot, three sets of eyes stared at it in disbelief.
"…I don't think you can do that, Veneziano," Spain finally spoke up.
"I don't think you want to do that!" added Prussia. "South's gonna throw a fit if you lose!"
"Such a daring move…" France stroked the stubble on his chin. "Are you sure about that?"
"Quite sure," the half-nation smiled. "Unless you guys don't want to try to win my brother for a day…"
That was all they needed to hear.
"You couldn't have him when he was a kid, you can't have him now, Franny," The Spaniard reminded his blonde friend.
"Don't be so sure, mon ami," Francis drew a card, examining it thoughtfully. "I already have the perfect maid's outfit for him to wear when he waits on me hand and foot."
"No way, the Awesome Me is going to win this! Kesesese!" laughed Prussia, discarding two cards. "I'm gonna make South wear a frilly apron and cook for me the entire day!"
"That was my plan too!" Spain smiled. "And he will only be allowed to speak Spanish!"
"Oooh! That's good! Yeah, when I win, he'll have to speak German!"
"How inexplicably evil…you might actually be the devil, Prussia." Francis smirked.
"Kesesese!"
"Does Roma even know any German…?" pondered Spain.
"So I take it you're in?" North Italy gave them an evil smile from behind his cards.
"All in!" they chorused.
Three sets of hands shoved their remaining money towards the pot and eagerly looked over their cards again. Unfortunately for them, it took the Italian less time to eat a plate of pasta than it did to beat all three Nations. The Bad Touch Trio was outraged, but that didn't stop them from playing against Italy over and over again, in the off-chance that they'd actually win one day. Since his betting Romano tactic worked so well the first time, Veneziano had since done that on occasion. It always pushed his opponents to going all-in and never ended in anything but victory for the Italian.
oOo
A few years later, Veneziano found himself playing a familiar poker game with the highly-motivated Bad Touch Trio and a reluctant Germany. The group of five had gathered around a table in the brightly-lit lobby, making the most of their break during a World Conference meeting. Everything was going Veneziano's way until America happened to stroll by.
"Playing poker again? Good luck!" the blonde patted France on the shoulder. He had more than enough luck to spare today. "Heh, and don't let Iggy catch you!"
"If you tell your mother on me, I'm grounding you for the rest of the century!" the Frenchman replied humorously.
"The thought never even crossed my mind," America laughed on his way over to a nearby couch.
He dug out his phone and checked his email after taking over the entire piece of furniture. He'd been so bored lately, he needed something fun and exciting to waltz into his life. Paintball and mountain climbing were only temporary fixes for the adrenaline junkie. America wanted something or someone a little more...constant in his extended life. Sure, he had Mattie and his enchanted pet cat (thank you, England), but there were times when both were off somewhere doing whatever it is busy Nations and cats do. That left America stuck finding some way to distract himself from his imminent boredom. He really needed someone he could rely on to always be there for him, no matter how crazy things got. The blonde mashed a few buttons on his phone. If only he had a number for something like that...
Back at the poker table, North Italy was cleaning house. France looked at his diminishing money pile and the large one growing in front of the amber-eyed card shark. If he didn't do something fast, he'd be out of the game and Veneziano would win…again. Right around then, France remembered something his other son-of-sorts had told him about America's card skills…
"He plays risky, but he plays well, eh…"
France mulled it over in his head while Germany dealt for the next round. He'd been playing with Italy for several decades now…more than enough time for the poker genius to learn the Frenchman's personal play style. Maybe, if he could throw the half-nation for a loop, he had a chance of winning this…or at least not being the first one knocked out of the game. France looked over his shoulder to spot the superpower. America was just messing around on his phone, nothing important.
"Amérique!" he called him over. "Come here for a moment, s'il vous plaît!"
The short-haired blonde shrugged, but made his way back over to the poker table.
"What's up, dude?"
France began speaking very rapidly in French, initially causing the other blonde to scrunch his face up until his brain was able to make the switch over to the lightning-fast words tumbling out of his former-caretaker's mouth. The others at the table didn't even bother trying to translate. Both German brothers were never particularly adept at French, especially when it was spoken that quickly. Spain was able to catch a word here and there, but had a feeling France was using some kind of code. Unless 'whorehouse' and 'drunken moose' was some new poker slang he'd never heard before. North Italy was too confident to care.
Once America realized what the other Nation was trying to tell him, he looked over France's shoulder at his cards. In equally rapid French, he suggested a few tips to his former caretaker, which helped the Frenchman win the current hand. Both blondes cheered while the older of the two collected his winnings.
"Hey, no fair having outside help!" objected Prussia. "If America's gonna play, we have to deal him in!"
"Would you like to play, America?" North Italy's eyes twinkled at the prospect of a new victim, er, player.
"Sure!" the superpower pulled up a chair. "You would not believe the day I've been having – my lucky star must be out or something."
"That's good," France dealt the cards out. "Little Veneziano's quite the card shark."
"Ve, I'm not that scary, am I?" the Italian laid on the charm.
"Don't let the Bambi eyes fool you!" the albino exclaimed. "Ita's a hustler!"
North Italy merely flashed his innocent amber eyes at the other players and checked his cards. His hand wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible either. Veneziano noticed that both German brothers took a shallow breath – their shared tell for a crappy hand. Spain was looking focused instead of spacey, which meant he was on the fence about his current hand. France appeared a lot less confident without America's help, so it was an easy win there too. The final superpower looked at his cards and maintained the same grin he had when he began. Either he had no concept of a poker face or he was overly confident. Maybe both.
Veneziano decided to crush that confidence by refusing to draw, as if he already had a winning hand and not a simple flush. Almost immediately, Prussia, Germany, and France folded. Spain reluctantly called and America went ahead and raised. North Italy arched an eyebrow, but saw his raise, while Spain folded. A brief betting war erupted until the brunette finally set down his cards, revealing a flush.
"Alright! Four of a kind!" America cheered, tossing down his cards, and collecting his winnings.
The Italian could feel his right eye begin to twitch. He wasn't used to losing and actually got annoyed after the newcomer won three more times in a row. Veneziano had narrowly scraped by a victory by having a higher suit one round, hoping to end America's winning streak. It failed to demoralize the blonde, who went back into Godmode the very next game. One by one, the Bad Touch Trio and Germany were knocked out of the game. After taking Germany out, America started humming his national anthem and France had the nerve to join in. This was ridiculous! He had to put an end to this now. Checking his cards, Italy confirmed they were good enough for his next gamble.
"Ve~! This is really fun!" the brunette almost sounded sincere. "Maybe we should up the stakes a little?"
Everyone else at the table looked at each other. They knew exactly what that meant. North Italy was about to use his special attack to scare the superpower into backing down.
"What do you mean?" America finally stopped humming The Star-Spangled Banner long enough to listen.
North Italy took out a blank sheet of paper and wrote 'Romano' on it in fancy letters. He set it on top of the pile of cash in the middle of the table.
"I bet my brother," he flashed a toothy smile. "For 24 hours, Romano will hang out with you and do whatever you ask."
"Ha, ha, ha! That's funny! I'd be afraid to bet my own brother," America barely even glanced at his cards. "But having a big bro for the day might be kind of fun…Sure, I'm all in."
The others around the table were making such a racket, Germany had to step in to calm them down before they disrupted the other Nations slowly filtering in and out of the room. What followed next was the most nerve-wracking poker game any of them had ever witnessed. When all was said and done, North Italy showed his cards. He was very smug, and rightly so – he had a straight flush.
"That is a good hand…" America whistled.
Veneziano smiled, sitting straighter in his chair. Finally, he had reclaimed his poker honor and won! He was unbeatable! Invincible! He was—
"But I have a good hand too," America laid down his cards.
Jaws dropped. America had the only combination of cards that could beat North Italy's – a royal flush – the unbeatable hand!
"Like I said, it must be my lucky day or something…"
Veneziano's face fell from the royal family of Spades and fear set in. Suddenly, he realized the consequences of his actions. He could no longer hear the hoots, hollers, and uproar going on around him. The Italian didn't even feel Germany's comforting hand on his shoulder. His brother was going to kill him! North Italy visibly paled as he watched America rake in the mountain of cash and the slip of paper with Romano's name on it.
"V-Ve…" he stammered, teary-eyed. "How am I going to explain this to fratello?!"
"No big deal, just tell him you lost a poker game."
"B-But!"
"Relax, it's not like I'm going to eat him or anything!" America laughed.
Italy pouted, unsure about that. America was raised by England, after all.
"Ohonhonhon! And what do you plan to do with your little prize for the day?" Francis draped an arm around America, wagging his eyebrows.
"Yes…Do tell," Spain shot him a cold look.
America was oblivious to the underlying message of both.
"Well, I guess he could hang out after the next G-8 meeting, since I'm already hosting…we could catch a baseball game, maybe a movie if anything good is playing…" he scratched his head, then burst into a huge grin. "Oh! And then he'd have to go to McDonald's with me!"
"You have a handsome Italian all to yourself for the day and your plan consists of baseball and fast food?" France sighed, shaking his head.
"Yes?"
"No, no, no…that won't do at all," the older blond complained. "Come with me and I'll give you some pointers before your big date!"
"Okay?" the superpower let himself be dragged away from the table.
A laughing Prussian and a seething Spaniard were quick to follow.
North Italy didn't know what to do, so he burst into tears and let Germany comfort him with soothing phrases like "I'm sure you're brother probably won't kill you…" and "He might be a little mad, but not 18th century Kingdom of Sicily mad…" and "If you want, I'll lend you my tranquillizer gun."
oOo
The problem couldn't be avoided forever and eventually Veneziano had to return home. Instead of going to his house in Venice, he decided to pay his brother a visit in Rome. His timing was perfect. Just as North Italy walked up the driveway, his fratello was returning from an afternoon's worth of work in the garden. The tsundere eyed him in a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He set down the basket of tomatoes he had been holding and approached Veneziano.
"What are you doing here, bastard?"
"Do I need a reason to visit my brother…?" he forced a smile.
Romano rolled his eyes.
"I meant that usually you call before you show up, idiota," he narrowed his green eyes. "And lately you spend all your free time with the macho potato."
"V-Ve, all the more reason to spend time with you for awhile~!"
"Hmph, well, it has been awhile, so I guess it's kind of nice to see you…but only a little."
Romano still wasn't sure what was bugging his brother, but was grateful for the sentiment. It was nice to know that he hadn't been completely forgotten. He gave his brother a one-armed hug, which Veneziano quickly returned. It was rare for his fratello to show any kind of open affection like this, unless he was talking to a beautiful woman or a cute animal. Since Italy was neither of those things, it hit him for the first time how much Romano really trusted and cared about him. Veneziano knew trust didn't come easy to the tsundere, so for him to give that to another person meant they were important to him. It was one of the greatest compliments Romano could give.
…And now, North Italy had to go break it by telling his only brother about how he went and gambled him away for a day. He struggled not to start bawling into his fratello's shirt…This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.
oOo
A/N – Uh-oh…Feli's really gone and done it this time… XD I think I know a certain South Italian who is not going to be happy next chapter…
A lot of the stories I already have up here are AU's or high school-related, which are fun, but somewhat limiting. Most of my posted fics using their Nation selves are one shot chapters in Coffeehouse Drabbles, so this was really fun to do. I have it roughly planned out to be about six chapters long.
-Rajikka
Translations
Fratello – Brother (It.)
Amérique – America (Fr.)
S'il vous plaît – Please (Fr.)
Idiota – Idiot (It.)
Tsundere – A type of character seen in anime or manga known for appearing cold or hostile, but having a hidden sweet side. "Tsun Tsun" is the aloof or irritable side, while "Dere Dere" is the lovey dovey side. (Jp.)