Disclaimer: Don't own it. Wish I did. Move along.
I know some people are already doing this, so I'll tell everyone right now that I am sorry if anything is similar to your stories. It is not intentional.
I, unfortunately, will not be taking requests. I have pairings planned out for a reason. I'm pretty easygoing and could normally write a request, but for the sake of this fic, in which each chapter is linked to another, I can't do that and have to stick to these pairings I've decided upon with a friend. Sorry! But if you have a request for a certain couple or just a one-shot of any kind, please feel free to say so by pming me or leaving a review. Because while this fic does contain USxUK, I've also quite recently taken a shine to USxJapan. I will write requests in a separate story. So just lemme know and I'll serve you~!
~*~
Germany and Italy: Rosalina
When Ludwig came home, he was used to calling out for his wife and their daughter. Of course, his so called wife was actually a husband, but whenever Ludwig introduced him to anyone, he insisted he was his wife. It was cute and endearing, so Ludwig let him be. Besides, most people took him for a woman right off the bat. He had, after all.
Today, when he walked in and said rather loudly "I'm home", he didn't get a reply. That wasn't anything unusual. The two were usually too preoccupied with their current activity or having a siesta to notice him. It was common practice for Ludwig to go looking for Feliciano and their princess by walking through every room in the house. Sometimes he found them in the strangest places. He remembered a day where he had checked the bathroom and found his baby girl using the shower head to send out an S.O.S. while her mama used a bucket to empty the "ship" of water by disposing of it in the sink.
What was surprising was he found his lover without their treasure. Feliciano was in the living room, his back to Ludwig, hunched over the coffee table and looking strangely focused. The female Ludwig-look-alike was nowhere to be found.
Deciding to surprise him, he stalked over quietly, until he stood just behind the Italian. There was an evil smirk on his face as he leaned over and whispered against the back of Feliciano's neck, "I'm home."
Like he expected, the smaller man screamed and jumped, turning around to hold up his hands in surrender, starting to shout out Ludwig's name for help.
He relaxed when he was enveloped in a hug, as he finally recognized his abuser as his husband. "Ve~! You scared me, Ludwig! That wasn't very nice!"
Nonetheless, he returned the hug.
Ludwig pulled away, kissing him on the cheek as he did so, to ask, "Where's Rosalina?"
"Ve...Rosie went to Japan and Greece's place. She'll be back soon though. I told her to come home for dinner tonight. It's pizza! Her favorite!"
"Ah. And what are you doing?"
Feliciano's grin widened. "Scrap-booking!"
"Really?"
He leaned over the other's shoulder to get a look at the table, and sure enough, it was littered with photographs and scraps of paper along with glue sticks and tape. A pair of scissors dangled hazardously on the edge of the surface, and if Rosie had been there the German would have scolded Feliciano for his carelessness, despite the fact that she was now six and knew the proper way to handle the simple tool. He scanned the cluttered collection of pictures and his eyes rested on one of Rosalina modeling her then-new dress for her mama. Her mouth was curled up into a great smile, her tiny body posing with one hand on her hip and the other's index finger just barely touching the side of her cheek. The dress, now worn often by the German-Italian girl, was a light, pale blue that matched her eyes. Short sleeves puffed out and were lined with white cotton trim, as was the rest of the dress. A sash of the same color wrapped around her waist to tie into a bow in the back. It went down just a little past her knees, white tights taking over until they met black Mary-Janes. Completing the outfit was a tiny bow made of the same material as the dress, drawing a few strands of hair away from her face.
"I feel like a princess, Vati!"
And he had replied, "You are a princess."
"Look at this one!" Feliciano picked up a picture he had been working with to show to Ludwig. "When Rosie was first born! The first time you held her! Oh, it's such a cute picture! The only time I've ever seen you cry, ve~!"
A blush rose to his cheeks as he took it to get a better look. It was true. He had cried once he finally held his baby. He had waited so long to meet her. He never imagined that something so wonderful could happen to him. First Feliciano and then her? Ludwig felt like the luckiest man alive, especially in that moment. He couldn't help but cry. She was his and Feliciano's and, God dammit, she was perfect!
This picture didn't show him crying, but he did have a mystified look on his face as he watched her sleep. Feliciano could be seen on the right, leaning on his side, hand used to prop up his head, as he observed the two interact face to face for the first time. He had started to laugh when Ludwig cried, eventually joining him as they cooed over her.
It was definitely a fond memory. He wondered just how many others there were. Too many to count, it seemed.
"Have you been working on this long?"
"For about four hours now. I didn't want Rosie around when I did it. I want to show her when I'm all done. This is her baby book. England was talking about Lizzie's and it sounded like something I should do. We can always look back at this. Even when she's moved out. Even when she g-gets m-married a-a-and--! A-and h-has her-her own k-k-k-ki-ki--!"
He was off. Feliciano started to sob, upset at the very thought of their baby growing up. Ludwig didn't like the idea much either. His heart ached as Feliciano said those things. Wrapping his arms around the man, he hushed him and stroked his hair, kissing his cheek every now and then until he had finally calmed down.
"I-I'm sorry! It's just--! Every time I think about that...I can't help it! She's too precious! I don't wanna lose her, Ludwig! I don't want her to ever even move out!"
"I know. I don't either. But she's only six, you know. It'll be awhile before we have to be concerned about that."
"It'll go by so fast...It feels like just yesterday you were freaking out about the first time I let Prussia hold her..."
"To be honest, I still worry when he does..."
It was then that Rosalina decided to come home, throwing open the door with childish, unnecessary force so that it slammed against the wall and swung back to nearly close itself. After gently kicking it closed with her foot, she started for the stairs, calling, "Mama! Mama, I'm home!"
"In here, bella!" Feliciano called, still in Ludwig's lap and wiping his eyes.
The little girl deterred from her earlier path and looked into the living room, her baby-blue dress from the picture swishing around her in her great hurry, Germany's own eyes lighting up and reflecting back at him when she saw her father had come home early.
Ludwig looked over his own shoulder to smile at her. "Meine Prinzessin! Willkommen zu Hause!"
"VATI!" she shouted, launching herself at him.
Ludwig let out an "oof!" once she fell into his arms, which were now full of two giggling, smiling Italians.
"I'm going to make dinner now," Feliciano stood and looked at the blond pair, the younger now reaching up to curiously touch her father's head as she often did. He laughed when he heard her call her vati "silly" for slicking his hair back. "I know. I tell him that too. But doesn't Vati look handsome no matter what?"
Rosie looked at him and smiled, nodding in agreement, before blinking her baby blues and cocking her head, her curl (the only physical trait she seemed to inherit from her mother) bouncing as she did so. "Mama, can mine and Vati's pizza have wurst on it?"
At this, Ludwig turned his gaze on Feliciano as well. The both of them had hopeful looks on their faces, their blue eyes making him shiver. They were so identical it was scary. There was no doubt that Ludwig was Rosalina's father.
"You break Mama's heart, Rosalina! Eating Vati's icky sausages..." he dramatically placed a hand to his forehead.
"They're not icky, Mama!" she protested. "They're very tasty! And I like potatoes, too!"
Feliciano shook his head, overdramatic tears beginning to cling to his lashes. "I only wished she would inherit my taste...I wanted her to look like you and take after you. All I wished was for her to have the same taste buds...But no! She has to be a female miniature of you! Did she inherit anything from me? Did she really?"
"Your curl?" he suggested, a smile starting to creep his way onto his face.
"My curl! That's it!" the Italian turned on his heel towards the kitchen, sniffling as he did so. "It's not fair! She lived in me for nine months! Nine months! But what do I have to show for it? Nothing! She might as well be Romano's daughter! Or Canada's!"
"Who?" Germany's eyebrows scrunched together in thought, before he shook his head and picked up his daughter, who had been playing with her long locks of golden hair and comparing them to her father's. "I see a lot of you in her. It's the little things."
Feliciano paused in his movements, his sobs immediately halting. "Ve...Really?"
"Mm. Her smile is the same as yours. Her nose, too. And then she does things that only you would."
Italy smiled and no more was said as he gathered the ingredients to start making the pizza. Rosalina started to tell her father all about her day at Sanosuke's house, taking the most time to explain in great detail the foods they had for snack. As she did so, Germany glanced at Italy with a look as if to say, "See?"
Italy noticed and understood, his grin widening as he wrapped his arms around their daughter to pull her into a sudden hug. "You're sooooooo cute, Rosie! Mama's heart melts just looking at you!"
"Ack! Mama!" she had been startled by his attack, but returned it just the same. "I was telling Vati a good story and you interrupted!"
But neither of the three seemed to really care.
"Mama, don't forget the wurst! You are going to put it on, aren't you? I really like wurst, Mama! Vati does too, so I think you should! I'll help, you know! I really like cooking! Especially pasta and wurst and potatoes and lasagna and--!"
She was definitely their daughter.
"I found something while I was looking for materials for the scrapbook," Italy mentioned, mostly naked, save for one of Germany's button down shirts, and already in bed.
"Ah. Was it anything interesting?" Ludwig asked as he slipped into the black muscle shirt he usually wore at night.
"Wellllll....!" Feliciano started, telling the German that he was most definitely up to something probably less than innocent. His suspicions were confirmed when Italy dashed from the bed to the closet, giggling as he brought out an article of clothing.
A dark blue dress with three-quarter sleeves stared at Ludwig, and he recognized it immediately, a nostalgic look taking over his face.
"This is your maternity dress..." he reached out a hand to stroke the fabric, the soft and comfy cotton material greeting him. His eyes softened. He remembered Italy wearing this all throughout his pregnancy. Elastic in the dress made it suitable to wear even as the baby grew, allowing him to sport it in the first trimester, second, and then the third.
"I want to wear it again."
Germany glanced up, broken out of his reverie. "What?"
"I said I want to wear it again."
Ludwig studied Feliciano's face, already knowing by his tone that he was completely serious.
"Well, if you want to wear it, then I'm not going to stop you. You wear versions of the maid outfits from the time you spent at Austria's place around the house anyway. It's not like it will bother me."
Now the Italian looked frustrated. "Ludwig...I don't want to wear it just because I think it's pretty and comfortable..."
He looked at him again, the realization slowly dawning on him.
"Are...Are you implying...?"
"And everyone says I'm the dense one!" he smiled coyly, before becoming serious. "I really want to...Can we? I-I miss...I miss being..."
Germany reached his hands up to cup his face, forcing him to look him straight in the eyes. "Are you sure? You want to go through this again?" He stroked Italy's cheeks with his thumbs.
Feliciano placed a hand on top of one of Ludwig's own. "Wasn't it worth it?" The Italian smiled, tears coming back to his eyes. "I miss it, Ludwig. I really do. And I want another. The pain of labor is nowhere near as great as the joy that a child brings..."
Silence. Italy knew Ludwig was thinking and stayed quiet, not even moving an inch.
Finally, "Well! You would know that better than me...I think Rosalina would like a sibling...I wouldn't mind another, you know...It might even be nice to have...To have a..."
"A big family!" Italy finished, throwing himself at the German, squealing with excitement. "Thank you, Ludwig! Thank you! Thank you!"
Germany struggled a bit as the shorter man started to shower him with sloppy kisses, trying to get him to calm down.
Eventually he gave up.
Feliciano liked wearing dresses, it seemed. Not only did he create his own that resembled his old outfits from his childhood, but he wore ones that others sent him. He loved it when he would receive a new one from Hungary or Japan. Poland sent him "totally cute" accessories and swapped tips with him. Germany didn't mind any of this (save for some of Poland's tips, which didn't always have to do with clothes, but rather risque ways of removing them...) and found them adorable on his little ally, if his blush was any indication.
While Germany didn't find it the least bit strange anymore for the Italian to show up in frilly skirts, his brother had been furious during the first two years of their marriage.
"Don't you have any pride as a man dammit?! Even if you're an idiot fag, shouldn't you act like a guy?! Shit! It's embarrassing!"
"But Lovino, we both wore dresses when we were little! It isn't such a bad thi--!" he had started to protest, but his brother would have none of that.
"It's not just the dresses dammit! It's everything! You go around calling yourself the potato-bastard's wife for crying out loud! Jesus Christ, could you be any more of a moron?! And what cologne are you WEARING?! You smell like a goddamn girl! Are you--?! ARE YOU WEARING PERFUME?!"
"Ve...It smells nice...And Ludwig--!"
"What about that guy?! Does he make you do this or something?! Some kinda perverted abuse?! We'll go get an annulment right now, because that bastard obviously doesn't love you the--!"
It was the first time Feliciano had ever hit his brother. Ludwig had just come home and ran towards the room he heard shouting, stopping at the doorway to witness the entire spectacle unfold. Lovino's visits were never pleasant, but this was far more extreme than usual. He could already start to see the tears well in the younger Italian's eyes.
"Lovi...!" he breathed out, his voice shaking. "I-I'm sorry, but I--! Ludwig loves me! I know he does! And I love him too, so you've no right to say those hurtful things! You're my big brother, Lovino...I just wish you could be happy for me..."
The elder Italian looked absolutely gobsmacked. After staring at his younger brother for a few moments, he finally turned and, with surprising calm, walked out of the room, past Ludwig without so much as a glance, and out the door.
Meanwhile, Feliciano sank to the floor and began to bawl. He tried to cover it up; Ludwig watched as he rubbed his eyes to wipe away the tears. He heard his breath constrict as he held in a sob. Slowly and gently, the German reached out to his lover, taking him into his arms and just holding him, letting him sob quietly--near silent--into his shoulder.
He had only truly recovered when they found a basket of tomatoes the next day on their doorstep. There wasn't a note, but it was obvious who had sent it. It was the closest thing to an apology and a blessing they were ever going to get and they knew it.
But even as the cheerful Italian started to act himself again, the event still burned in Ludwig's mind. He was amazed that his little Feliciano would actually hit someone--especially his brother! Yet that wasn't what he spent most of his time pondering. Rather, he wondered about what Lovino had said; about Italy dressing and acting like a girl.
And, after years of experience, Ludwig knew just when to talk to him about it.
RIght after making love was the best time to ask Italy something serious, provided he was still awake. So as soon as they were done and he had wrapped his much larger arms around Italy's tiny body, his back to his chest, he came out and asked him straight.
"Italy, why do you act like a girl? It doesn't bother me, but your brother was right in a way. It's odd."
Beating around the bush wasn't a wise thing to do with Feliciano. Another thing Ludwig had learned form experience.
"Hmmmm?" the Italian droned out, tired and relaxed against the German man's chest. "Don't you like it?"
"Like it?" Germany asked, surprised.
"I do it for you, you know," Italy said, suddenly sounding quite serious. "You're into girls, right?"
It would be a lie to say he didn't take Ludwig's breath away often, but this left him absolutely speechless. The thoughts that went on in the brunette's head just gave him a stabbing pain in his temples when he tried to comprehend them.
Finally finding his voice, "What?"
Feliciano sighed, rolling over to look the blond in the eyes. "Don't lie to me, Ludwig. I know. I've seen the magazines. And the DVDs. And those VCR tapes from the camera. Oh, and there was that--!"
"I get it!" Germany had to do his best not to shout, lest he wake Rosalina (not that that was likely even if he did shout, considering she shared her mother's knack for sleeping through just about anything). Ignoring that Italy had gone through his things, he got straight to the point once more. "Feliciano, have I done something to upset you? To give you any doubt? Do you think I don't mean it when I tell you I love you? Or when I kiss you? What on Earth has gotten into you? It's not like you to be so...so untrusting..."
He hadn't meant to sound so hurt by Italy's words. He was just surprised for the most part, even if it did sting a little and cloud his mind with fear and uncertainty.
"Ludwig...You prefer girls. Let's not lie to each other. No lies. We promised that even before we were married. No lies. I'll be honest with you, too. I prefer guys. Girls are great, but guys are the best. But I know you think the opposite. Or rather, you think girls are great and guys are just guys. Nothing special. If I ever thought you were going to cheat, I would be looking at your interactions with women rather than men."
Now that really hurt. "I would never cheat on you! Never! I can't believe you don't trust me!"
As the disgruntled former Holy Roman Emperor started to leave the bed with a scowl on his face, Italy nearly tackled him back onto the bed. "I never said you would or were or had! I just mean...Ve...S-sometimes I g-get jealous..."
Now that wasn't something you heard coming from the younger of the Italy brothers every day. It was enough to stop Ludwig from once more attempting to leave the room. The Italian clung to one of his wrists anyway, as if he were afraid he would disappear at a moment's notice.
"You get jealous? When I'm...?"
He hung his head, half-ashamed and half-embarrassed. "When you're with girls...I...I get jealous..."
"Why?"
"Because they look at you like I do! They look at Germany with impressed, awe-struck eyes and the biggest smiles and they start to get all red in the face and giggly and then they start to do things with their hair and their eyelashes and some of them even touch you or bend over so you can see right up those stupid, short skirts of theirs and when you look, they're either wearing some really really awful lingerie or sometimes NOTHING AT ALL! And even though Germany is good and faithful and those are all the more reasons he's attractive, I can't help but get all mad because Germany is mine and nobody else should be able to wear pretty things just for him expect me!"
He was close to tears by the end of his rant. He had even slipped into his old way of speaking, referring to Ludwig by his country name and never addressing him as "you". Feliciano sniffled and used one hand to wipe at his eyes, the other still clinging to a wrist bigger than his hand could wrap around.
To his chagrin, Germany started to laugh.
And that made the Italian sob even harder, feeling like such an idiot.
Which is exactly what Ludwig called him.
"My foolish, little Italian..." he laughed as he planted a kiss on the other's forehead, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, Italy's hand slipping from where it had been the past minute or so. "You adorable, little fool...Mein Gott...I love you so much it hurts."
"Ludwig...?"
"Yes, call me that. I told you. You're not allowed to call me Germany anymore. Feliciano..." he felt as smug as a cat who got away with the canary. "After all my possessive displays...I thought I was the only one getting jealous here! But you're just as bad, aren't you?"
Ludwig chucked and wrapped himself around the other, all of the unwanted feelings and emotions washed away by the tinier man's rant. Italy started to smile softly into the crook of Germany's neck.
"Ludwig...I really love you, you know?"
"I know. I love you too." Germany pulled back from the embrace for just a moment. "That still doesn't explain why--"
He cut himself off and a curious look crossed his face.
"W-what?" the younger was feeling a bit anxious. If he knew, that would be so embarrassing...
"Italy, do you act like a girl...Because you think I'll like it better? Because you're jealous of the girls and think...That...I'd like you better if you were a girl?"
He bit his lip, and that was all the answer Germany needed before he started to cry out with laughter.
"You idiot!" he laughed. "I love you just the way you are! You don't need to be a girl!"
"But--!"
"Yes, I like girls. You were right in your assumptions, but Feliciano, you don't need to be a girl for me to love you! Whether you're a man or a woman doesn't matter to me! I love you! My stupid, little Italian who always needs to be rescued! The one that likes to make pasta no matter what time of day it is! The one that steals my books and then hides them when he thinks I'm not paying him enough attention! That's the person I'm in love with! Oh, mein Gott...You're just so..."
And as if it was the only way to convey what he was trying to say, he pulled Italy into a sharp and hard kiss for a moment.
"I love you," he breathed, smiling at the other. "Nobody else can do this to me. Man or woman. Just you. Feliciano Vargas."
"That's Feliciano Beilschmidt to you!" he teased.
"Ah, how could I forget..."
It was a peaceful silence they entered, only broken by the ruffling of sheets as they started to settle down for real this time.
"Ludwig, can I ask a question?"
"Mm?"
"Can I...Just because now I know you don't need me to act like a girl or be a girl or anything, but can I still...um...Can I still wear the dresses?"
He felt his chest shake with laughter again, a small smile coming to his lips as well.
"Feliciano, just do what makes you happy. I think you're beautiful no matter what. In a dress or in a suit. Or sailor fuku. But I don't like the way Japan looks at you in that, so please try to wear that only at home."
"Okay! Because you know, Ludwig, I really like dresses! They're so much fun! And they really do look good on me, don't they?"
"Mm."
"Oh, and I still wanna wear that perfume Hungary gave me! It smells so good! Like flowers! Much better than that weird stuff guys are supposed to wear...Oh, but I like your cologne! It's very you! Don't change it, okay? I'm so used to it now it'd be weird. And don't go without it, because then you smell a little like wurst, and I don't like that smell. But it's not like the main thing, it's only if I really try to define it, so it's not like you smell bad or anything! But yes, I think I'm going to just wear what I think looks cute on me, okay?"
"Feliciano, go to sleep."
The Italian giggled and kissed his cheek. "Okay! Oh, but by the way, I'm going out with Poland tomorrow. We're going shopping for bedroom dresses! I don't know what that really means. 'Bedroom dresses'? How strange! What sort of dress do you wear to the bedroom? Nightgowns, maybe? But I don't sleep in anything except for your shirts, so maybe I just wo--Where are you going?"
While Ludwig had no problem with Feliciano wearing dresses, he did have a problem with stupid Poles corrupting his innocence and was about to call a soon-to-be-very-mortified Lithuanian about how he should really look for what his wife was planning behind his back.
