A/N: This is for my friend Shannon just a fluffy one-shot for Valentines Day.
Feedback is much appreciated!
St. Valentine
The cool spring breeze rolled over the hills and through the fields. A flock of birds flew across the cloudless baby-blue sky and the bright yellow sun sat high above the forest, marking midday. Holy Rome sat quietly on top of one of the larger hills, a tall oak tree keeping him in the shade.
His mind was racing at a million miles hour; what if she didn't turn up, what if she ran away, what if she didn't like the flowers? Some many what ifs ran through the mind of the German boy, how had Prussia managed to talk him into this?
Italy always ran away him, why wouldn't she run today? Holy Rome wasn't sure if he could cope with that type of rejection, at least not on a day like today. But according to Prussia, only an un-awesome Dummkopf would reject someone on Valentine's Day, Italy wasn't an un-awesome idiot was she? She was a bit of air head, but she was certainly not un-awesome.
The German sighed, this was all so confusing and complicated, why couldn't things be simple, like in fairy tales?
Italy slowly made his way up the hill, wondering who his was meant to be meeting the note he had found only stated a time and location. As he neared the peak, the Italian spotted a familiar figure, "Holy Rome~!" The said nation span round at the call of his name, his cheeks now dusted pink. Italy quickly ran up the finally part of the slope, "Are here to meet someone as well, Holy Rome?"
"J-Ja, I am."
"Really? When are you meeting them?" Italy asked excitedly.
"N-now..." Holy Rome was slowly getting more and more flustered at Italy's obliviousness.
"Oh no!" a sudden wave of distress over took the young Italian, "they're late! We have to find them!"
"actually they're already here..." The pink blush Holy Rome darken as confusion took over Italy. As the pieces fitted together in the younger ones mind, he found a bouquet of red roses thrust at him with a slightly mumbled and flustered "w-will you be my valentine?"
Holy Rome kept his gaze locked on the floor as his face heated up. The moment seemed to last forever until a small pair of hands took the flowers from him. "Si, I will," came the sweet Italian voice.
Prussia smirked as he watched the two little nations walk hand in hand, a bunch of roses clasped tightly in Italy's free hand and smiles on both their faces. You did well, Bruder, praised the Prussian silently. "You didn't do half bad," came the unmistakable voice of Hungary, "for an idióta, that is."