There is a reason Germany never makes jokes. This reason being that whenever he jokes around, so much as says a sarcastic quip, no one understands that he is not serious. Granted they don't understand this because he never makes jokes, but still it is getting rather annoying. Looking at Italy, looking at that thing on his face, thinking of how he was somehow the cause of it, he literally felt sick to his stomach. He never thought that it would go this far. He never thought that his comment could be taken as a serious statement. He was to be quite honest baffled by the fact that Italy had went through with it. Not only went through with it, but did so in the worse possible way.

When Italy had asked a week ago how he could be taken more seriously Germany had nearly laughed. How many things he could had told him. Stop smiling in such a silly way, stop napping all the time, fix his posture, open his eyes, stop going Ve~. However it would take him a good hour to go over the entire list of Italy's faults, a list he so hadn't prepared after a week of knowing him, nope what gave you that idea? And if he was completely honest with himself he rather enjoyed the little guy's quirks, he wouldn't be Italy without them. So instead of breaking out the list he decided to make a rare joke.

"Maybe you should grow a mustache." And that is how Germany gotten into this predicament. That is how he was put into a situation where he is forced to look at the once adorable face of Feliciano and instead only able to focus on the large bushy mustache oddly reminiscent of the old Mario game Japan is obsessed with.

"Ve, Germany? You didn't answer, do you like it?" A finger poked his nose and without thinking his eyes went crossed to stare at it before quickly returning to that monster of a mustache currently residing on Italy's face. Ludwig tugs on the corner of the 'stache and was met with resistance and a small whimper of pain from his friend. "Don't that hurts!" He stopped, frowned, it appeared to be real. No, he did not like it. In fact, he'd go as far to say that he loathed that thing on his face. Absolutely hated it. Here's the thing though, Italy was excited. Italy was practically bouncing in glee and looked ready to burst. Dammit, no matter how excited he is I have to tell him the truth and tell him to get rid of it.

So prepared to say the words "No, I don't." he opened his mouth and with a sad expression told him "It looks really nice, Italy." Well fuck.

…

It had barely been a day and already Germany began to think himself insane. His entire focus was constantly on that large patch of hair above his friend's lip. The way it bounced when he talked, how food would get stuck in it, just watching Feliciano comb it made him feel an intense anger he hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't tell him though. He couldn't burst his bubble and inform him of how foolish he looked. No, he couldn't bear to see Italy cry. However he knew someone that could.

Feliciano had been ecstatic when Germany suggested showing Romano his new facial hair. Without much provocation he had been able to convince the bubbly Italian to track him down in town and showcase his mustache. Without missing a beat Romano's first reaction was to say in a deadpan voice "You're shitting me, aren't you." Directly to him of course.

"You like it, right Lovino?" Italy facing away from him Ludwig took the opportunity to make every sign he could indicating that no he did not like it. The Italian got the message loud and clear, he was to tell Italy to shave that ugly fucker off. This is something he would normally do gleefully without any need of direction from others. However Ludwig wanted it gone. Romano did not like Ludwig.

"It looks fantastic, little bro! You look gorgeous, so manly and macho! I'm so proud, maybe I should grow one too!" Italy's face lit up like a kid's on Christmas.

"You really think so, Fratello? I don't look silly?" Germany decided that he did not like Romano.

"Nah, of course not! And don't anyone tell you otherwise, you look very serious and cool." Germany decided that he hated Romano.

…

In that day Ludwig learned something very important: People he associate with on a day to day basis were assholes. Austria had told Italy that he barely recognized him, he looked so manly now. Of course not until he saw Germany's tired and begging face. Elizaveta said that he was so cute and ooh, could she pretty please take a picture with him? Prussia said that all the girls would want him now and had he considered growing a beard too? News spread fast and when there's an opportunity to fuck with another nation then you take it. Soon everyone loved Italy's new mustache. Like, dude, it looks so cool and serious!

Because of this Germany had decided that he hated the world and he fully believed that the world returned the sentiment.

…

Now credit must be given where credit is due. Germany has amazing self control. It took him a week, a full week of seeing that mustache everyday completely obscuring Feliciano's natural cuteness and just being a hideous pest to society before he snapped. Snapped in a calm way thank you very much.

"I will allow you to make pasta everyday for he rest of the month! You can skip training, you can eat gelato after every meal, you can even sleep in my bed just please for the love of all that is holy, shave that thing off of our upper lip!" Panting, sweating, he managed to calm down just in time to see his friend break down in uncontrolled sobs.

"I'm sorry, Germany! Please don't yell I'm sorry!" So Ludwig had fucked up. He had fucked up big time. A few minutes of Germany intensely apologizing and stuttering and insisting that he really didn't mind the 'stache, it looked good really, and Feliciano had calmed down to the point where he was only quietly sniffling and sadly rubbing his eyes.

"Ludwig doesn't like my mustache?" He looked up at him with such sad and betrayed eyes that it nearly broke Germany's heart. He couldn't lie to him, but the idea of saying no just hurt so much. So instead he remained silent, this told Italy everything though. "You think it looks silly, don't you? If you want I'll shave it, it'll make you happy, si?"

"You don't have to do that for me, Italy. That isn't fair to you." Guilt. Germany was coming to the realization that he was a terrible human being, how dare he make Italy cry! Bad Germany, very bad.

"But it makes you happy so I want to! Anyways, it itches my lip." He told him with a giggle. Words could not express the gratitude he suddenly felt at that moment towards the fact that Italy had an itchy lip.

"Thank you. Is there any way to repay you?" His favorite Italian (it wasn't that hard to earn that title considering who his brother was) nodded excitedly.

"Si! You can keep your promise about letting me sleep with you!" A worth while sacrifice. Another battle won. Germany suddenly felt exhausted, he really needed a drink.

...

Because of the fact that it is currently three thirty in the morning, the author of this story cannot be held accountable for the stupidity that you just read.