Tradition
After so many years of putting up with it, Germany just learned to go with Italy's strange behavior. When Italy woke up, Germany immediately tackled him and forced him to put on pants. When Italy saw a cat during training, Germany just accepted that everything would be postponed until the afternoon. When Italy went on the internet and read strange stories about himself ("Germany! Help! I was doing the most horrific things with Romano and tomatoes and you were a girl and were shooting at me and I JUST WANT PASTA!"), Germany turned off the computer and yelled at Prussia for linking Italy to such things.
So when Germany awoke to find Italy sitting on him, wailing about how they were out of pasta, he just blinked and rubbed his head.
"And I thought we had some extra but Romano must have taken it and I don't know where any more is and we have to get some more!" Italy rambled on. "Are the stores still open? Please let them be open! If they're open we can go right away and get the delicious - mmph!"
Germany had cut him off abruptly, by clapping his hand over the excitable nation's mouth. "Italy," he said, as patiently as possible. "What are you talking about?"
"MMMPH! MMM MMM MPPPH!" cried Italy, flailing.
"Right." Germany took his hand away and tried again. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about pasta!" Italy wailed.
When was he not? "Okay, but why are you so upset?"
"Because there is none left in the house!"
"That still is not a problem!" said Germany. "We will go after Christmas and get some more."
That was evidently the wrong thing to say, as Italy burst out crying again. "No, Germany! We have to get it before the stores are all closed on Christmas Day!"
"Italy, it's Christmas Eve. Do you have any idea how many stores will already be closed?"
"But Germany! We have to make pasta for Christmas dinner! It's tradition!"
"Tradition?" Germany felt his head begin to throb. "Is this some strange thing you do at your house?"
"Ve... kind of."
There was no helping it, he saw. Once Italy got an idea fixed in his head, it was nearly impossible to deter him. Besides, it was not as if shopping for pasta was the most strenuous thing he'd ever done to get Italy out of trouble.
"Mr. Austria! Mr. Austria! The Christmas decorations are finally up!"
Austria, who was in the middle of playing the piano for Hungary and Holy Roman Empire, glanced over his sheet music. He was not surprised to see Chibitaly hopping up and down in the doorway. That child always seemed to pop up when he was least expected.
"Yes, thank you," said Austria. "But what have I told you about interrupting my practicing?"
Chibitaly wilted. "I'm sorry, sir."
"You did so well!" Hungary quickly said. "The house looks beautiful. And you got it done so fast!"
That cheered the little nation up. "Grazie! Holy Roman Empire helped a lot, too."
The Holy Roman Empire quickly turned a deep shade of red. "I...I only - I just wanted to be sure everything was up before Christmas!"
Chibitaly looked crestfallen. "Oh..."
"Italy," said Hungary, stepping in again, "Tomorrow's Christmas Day. Is there anything you would like Santa to bring you?"
"Si!" Chibitaly chirped. "I want Santa to bring me some pasta!"
Hungary beamed. "Well, maybe he will!" she said, shooting a meaningful look at Austria.
"Absolutely not," he flatly said.
Chibitaly looked adorably clueless. "What are you talking about?"
The room was silent, as Hungary locked eyes with an unnerved Austria. "Oh nothing," she finally chirped, leading Chibitaly to the door. "Why don't you go outside for a bit?"
As soon as the young nation had run off, Hungary rounded on Austria. "Well?"
He stared determinedly at his sheet music. "'Well' what?"
"You know perfectly well 'well' what!"
Austria sighed. "You know how busy things have been in my house, Hungary. I simply do not have the time to get pasta on such short notice."
"But Austria, isn't there some way? You could see if any of the neighbors could loan you some."
Austria shook his head. "I really am sorry, my dear. If I leave with things as unstable as they are, the household could fall apart."
"I see." Hungary looked at the floor, dejected.
Austria ran his hands through his hair. He felt like the most horrible person alive right now, but there was nothing he could do. "As soon as I can, I shall go and find pasta for Italy," he promised.
Hungary smiled. "That would be wonderful, sir."
Neither of them noticed Holy Roman Empire run out of the room, as their conversation unfolded.
Miraculously, Italy and Germany managed to find a supermarket still open late on Christmas Eve.
"Better make it fast," said Germany, as they walked inside. "I think they want to close so -"
He broke off as Italy dashed for the nearest aisle.
Germany didn't even bother running after. Italy always was like this when it came to shopping. The idiot would skip out on training and wail like a baby at the thought of fighting anyone up to and including Sealand, but put him in charge of finding top-quality cooking ingredients and he was a Man on a Mission.
Of course, Germany already had a few things in mind he wanted to get. He wasn't sure what kind of pasta Italy planned on making, but he had an idea for himself.
After asking an employee which aisles he should look in, Germany set off for a few ingredients. Ricotta... black pepper... nut meg... spinach... He hoped that Italy would buy plenty of whatever was used to make the pasta dough, because he did not know anything about that.
When Germany got through the check-out line, Italy had already paid for his things and was waiting by the door. He tugged impatiently at Germany's free hand, all but dragging him to the car. "Hurry, hurry!" he said. "Let's go make some pasta!"
Because it was Christmas Day, Austria let Chibitaly off with no chores. The little nation wandered the corridors of the house, trying to think of something to do. He would normally paint, but he didn't have the materials for that. Instead, he admired the artwork hanging on the walls.
He had just paused in front of yet another portrait of a stuffy man in a cravat, when he heard a creak from nearby. A moment later, Holy Roman Empire poked his head around a nearby corner.
Chibitaly screamed in surprise and tried to find something to hide behind. "Please don't come after me!" he cried. "Mr. Austria gave me the day off, I'm not doing anything wrong!"
There was no answer. Holy Roman Empire, taken by surprise at Chibitaly's outcry, had ducked back around the corner.
Another moment passed, and Chibitaly got over the shock he'd had. "Ve?" he asked, heading towards the hallway the empire had gone to hide. "Holy Roman Empire? Are you there?"
Chibitaly peeked around the corner. Holy Roman Empire was crouched on the floor, holding a plate of something in his hands. He was muttering odd things under his breath. "I can not... I ought to... No! I can do this! ... No, I don't think I can..."
"Holy Roman Empire?"
The empire jumped to his feet at the sound of Chibitaly's voice. "Italy!" he cried, trying to hide the plate behind his back. "What are you doing here?"
"Ve? I saw you watching me and I thought you wanted to say something to me."
"Is that what you thought? Well actually... it's more..." Holy Roman Empire's face grew more and more red as he stammered. Finally - "Do you know what today is?" he blurted out.
"Si! It's Christmas!"
"Yes. Christmas." Holy Roman Empire took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if gathering up his resolve. "SOIBROUGHTYOUTHISASAPRESENT!" he shouted, thrusting the plate towards Chibitaly.
Chibitaly's first reaction, upon hearing Holy Roman Empire's outburst, was to cry and jump back. When he'd worked up the nerve though, he asked, "What did you say?"
Holy Roman Empire took another deep breath. "I said, I brought you this as a Christmas present," he said, again offering the plate to Chibitaly.
It was very awkward, the two of them using the kitchen the way they were. Through some unspoken agreement, neither told the other what kind of pasta they were making. As a result, both nations ended up in separate corners of a room that was not exactly spacious, trying to discreetly share condiments and utensils while keeping their concoctions hidden from view.
Germany would have just let Italy use the kitchen first, but Italy was adamant that both of them make pasta as quickly as possible. When Italy was in such a state, there was simply no reasoning with him. Well, there was. It just was never worth the effort. So Germany hunched over the pasta dough that Italy provided him with, cutting it into little squares.
With his usual efficiency, Germany mixed the spinach with the ricotta and spices. His fingers were clumsy with stuffing the mixture into the squares of dough, and they ended up less symmetrical than he liked. He tried in vain to tidy the squares up, but they simply did not want to cooperate. Finally, he gave up. Better to let them cook while they were edible and only slightly unattractive, than risk ruining them beyond the point of them being consumable.
Italy had already put his pasta in to cook before Germany did, but not by much time. Germany puzzled over this. Normally, it took Italy next to no time at all to make pasta.
Germany mentally shrugged the thought off. It did not matter. The pasta would be done soon enough, and the household would finally be at peace.
A huge smile lit up Chibitaly's face as he examined the contents of the plate. "You got me pasta? Oh Holy Roman Empire! This is the greatest gift ever! Grazi!"
Holy Roman Empire found his cheeks heating up as a small smile drifted across his face. "I hope you like it. I made it myself."
"It looks delicious! I didn't know you could make ravioli!"
"R-ravioli?" Holy Roman Empire stammered. "No, that's actually Maultasche."
Chibitaly's forehead wrinkled. "I've never heard of that kind of pasta before."
"It's from my house. My grandpa Germania taught me how to make it."
"Ve? Then I can't wait to eat it! I bet pasta from Holy Roman Empire's house tastes delicious. Will you teach me how to make it?"
Holy Roman Empire's face grew even warmer, but he didn't mind. "Of course! And you can teach me how to make that other pasta. That... ravioli?"
"Si! I would love to!" chirped Chibitaly. "We can teach each other next Christmas, okay?"
"Okay, promise," said Holy Roman Empire. "We can make pasta every Christmas, if you want."
And that was how the tradition of pasta began.
Italy was relatively quiet as the pasta cooked and cooled. When it was safe to eat it though, he badgered Germany endlessly to come into the kitchen so they could exchange dishes.
"Germany can go first!" said Italy. "Hurry! I want to show what I made for you!"
"Alright then." Gott, with Italy staring at him so expectantly, he was starting to feel pressured. Perhaps even self conscious? He wasn't certain. It was not a good feeling though, so he decided to hand it over quickly. "It is... well, it is a dish from your house," he said, giving the plate to Italy. "I believe you call it 'ravioli'."
"Ve? Really?"
"Yes. I watched you make it before, and I know you like it. I hope..." Germany closed his eyes and blushed in a way that Italy found strangely familiar. "I hope it is to your satisfaction," he finally finished.
Italy gave a huge smile. "If Germany made it for me, I know I'll love it! Now, let me give you mine!"
A second later, Germany had a dish thrust into his hands. The first thing he registered was the smell, which made his mouth instantly begin to water. "This is... maultasche?" he said in surprise. "Italy, I did not know you could make this kind of pasta!"
"Of course I can," Italy said happily. "I learned how a really, really long time ago. I thought it would be something Germany would like."
Germany glanced at the dish of still-steaming maultasche, and then at the other nation. "Italy..."
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the front door.
"Ah! Germany! Germany! Someone's trying to invade!" Italy screamed, trying to hide under the table."
"Don't you ever get visitors?" asked Germany, answering the door. "Guten Abend," he said, turning to the knocker. "Can we help you with - Japan!"
"Konbanwa," said Japan, his teeth chattering slightly from the cold. "I apologize for visiting so late, but I believe today is when you western nations give gifts to one another."
"Actually it's tomorrow," said Germany. "Come in, though."
"I apologize," Japan said, again. "I must have been confused. At my house, we do not celebrate until the New Year."
"Hey Japan!" cried Italy, crawling out from under the table. "Just in time! Some really scary people were trying to invade. Did you see them on the way in?"
Germany rubbed his forehead, while Japan's brow creased. "No, Italy-san. I saw no one."
"Ve? They must have left."
Japan blinked, before deciding to chalk the entire conversation up to Italy's usual strangeness. "Italy-san, Germany-san, shall I give you my gifts now?"
"You might as well, as long as you are here," said Germany.
"Presents!" cried Italy.
"Yes, indeed," said Japan, holding out a bundle to the two nations. "Be careful. It might spill."
"Might... spill?" Germany decided it would be quickly to unwrap it and find out. Italy was already tearing into his, and both found out at about the same time that they got...
"Ve! Japan, how did you know I wanted pasta?"
"They are soba noodles, Italy-san," Japan explained. "At my house, it is a tradition to eat them while celebrating the New Year. I hope they bring you much happiness."
"I think they will," said Germany, watching Italy begin slurping his down. "Frohe Weihnachten, Japan. Italy."
"Hai. Merii Kurisumasu, Germany-san," replied Japan. "Merii Kurisumasu, Italy-san."
Italy gulped down the last of his soba. "Buon Natale, you guys! And have lots of pasta!"
So yes, I hope everyone had/is having a most wonderful holiday season! :D
This was written as a gift for a Hetalia fic/art exchange on LiveJournal. I apologize for the historical inaccuracy of Christmas in Chibitaly's time. In my defense, the show itself occasional uses such anachronisms. ^^;
Notes: Ravioli is a type of Italian pasta, in which squares of pasta dough are stuffed with various ingredients. Maultasche is a traditional Germanic pasta dish which is made up of stuffed pasta squares, much like ravioli (though the squares of a slightly different proportions). The ingredients I described are what I read are the usual ones, though I know many variants of the dishes exist.
Soba noodles are noodles made of buckwheat. They are a staple of Japanese diets, readily available to-go, and are indeed traditionally eaten at the New Year. (Fun fact - in Japan, a romantic Christmas meal would actually be Christmas cake and food from Kentucky Friend Chicken).
"Frohe Weihnachten", "Merii Kurisumasu", and "Buon Natale" are how you say "Merry Christmas" in German, Japanese, and Italian, respectively.