A/N:
Sock Ninja: Nom nom nom.
Nia Carter: So yeah. Sock writes as Italy and I write as Russia.
Sock Ninja: I also write as Germany and Japan (most of the time. DEATH GLARE)
WE DON'T OWN HETALIA!
A/N:
Italy: Ciao~! This is the Hetalia fanfic that I'm writing with my friend, Russia! Will the fish die?
Russia: Yes, it will be awesome! And yes, the fish will die...
Italy: (gasps) Nuu! Not the fish! Though, when the fish dies, I can ask Japan to make them into sushi to go with my pasta! Vee~!
Russia: (sigh) Let's get on with the story.
Italy: Yes, yes, right. The story. Kukukukukuuu...
Italy stayed silent as mayhem erupted in the World Conference, and felt a small flush of pride as Germany was able to bring everybody into order. As the room quietened again, she looked at him fondly. She had always had a soft spot for him, but as far as she knew, only one other country knew about this. Italy had had many years, but had never confessed to Germany. She supposed now she was paying the price for her inaction, but at least she still had her memories. She could think back, to when she and Germany had first met. Memories still intact, Italy recalls hiding in a box of tomatoes...
.oOo.
The time was WW1
Italy giggled, smiling to herself. This was, ultimately, the best hiding place ever! Russia would never even think that she was in here! Who would ever think of looking in a box of tomatoes? She brought her knees closer to her chest, resting her chin on them, and closed her eyes. She was huddled up inside of the box, literally locked inside, since the top was nailed on, and waited for Russia to find her.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven..." Italy counted, seeing how much time had gone by. "Sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six..."
Italy began to nod off, getting tired, and she leaned her head against the inside of the wooden crate. She jumped, however, when she heard footsteps coming her way, and hit her head on the top of the crate.
"Oww..." She groaned, and looked out of the crate through a small hole in the crate. She gasped, and immediately covered her mouth, backing up as far as the crate would allow her.
Italy stayed back up against the crate, hand still covering her mouth so that she couldn't make any sound. She could just see through the hole in the crate, and saw a very handsome blonde walking towards her hiding spot.
.oOo.
Russia walked along the forest, almost skipping. A little while ago she had finished counting to 100, and was now looking for Italy in the thick woodlands. It was World War One, and the two Eastern Countries had nothing better to do.
She overturned a rock, certain Italy was hiding underneath. "Italy?" she called, but it was more of a question. Russia would never tell anyone, but she was secretly afraid of the shadowy parts of the forests of the pathetic, weak-spined country.
Russia turned, to continue her search for Italy when she spotted someone's combat boots. Thinking rapidly, she jumped into a clump of bushes just as she caught a glimpse of the blonde man. Covering her mouth with one hand, as to not make any noise, she concentrated on not moving. She absentmindedly wondered if the invading country had seen her just as she caught sight of a large wooden box.
How could I have not seen that? Russia wondered, squinting to see the writing on the box. As the writing came into focus, she gasped quietly. How could I have been so stupid? Of course Italy would hide in a box of tomatoes!
.oOo.
Italy stayed silent, hoping that the man would just pass her by. She could see Russia's golden eyes glimmering from a bush nearby, and she almost smiled.
So we're both hiding, She thought. I wonder who he is. She started again as the stick the man was holding tapped against the box, accidentally making the crate move. Oh, damn! Russia, come help me! She screamed silently inside her head.
"I think someone is in there," The man said, with a clear German accent.
Without thinking, Italy replied. "No! There's no-one in here! It's just the box-of-tomatoes fairy!"
.oOo.
Russia's smile faded. How could Italy be so dumb? Sometimes I really wonder about her state of mind. Russia thought, tucking a stray strand of straight black hair behind her ear, intent on Italy and the mans' conversation, strange as it was.
She sighed. I hope I won't have to come and rescue her like last time. She thought, remembering the time when Italy had gotten stuck in a tree because of a stray cat.
Russia shook her head. Whatever her friend would get into, the ebony-haired nation decided to see how Italy would handle this encounter. She narrowed her amber eyes, though, just in case she needed to intervene.
.oOo.
"There is definitely someone in there!" The man said, and Italy began to panic. "Show yourself!"
Italy shook her head, even though she knew that he couldn't see her.
"There's no-one in here! Just the box-of-tomatoes fairy!" She repeated. She yelped as the crate began to tilt, and she realized that the man was trying to lift the top off. "Don't open the box!"
Suddenly, however, the lid was lifted off, and the man flew backwards as the crate fell back into its original position. Italy felt her heart beating rapidly, and popped up out of the top of the crate like a jack-in-the-box. The man stood up and walked over to the crate as Italy began to beg.
"Aaaah! I'm-so-sorry-I-lied-it-wasn't-the-box-of-tomatoes-fairy-at-all! It-was-all-lies-lies-LIES!" Italy cried, holding her clasped hands up as she begged. "Please-don't-shoot-me-I-don't-want-to-die! And-what-if-I-don't-die-but-am-just-mortally-wounded-and-forced-to-lie-in-a-pool-of-my-own-blood? I'll-do-anything-well,-within-reason,-I-don't-want-to-dieeee! Please-I'm-a-virgin! Where-do-you-think-they-get-virgin-olive-oil-from? You're-not-supposed-to-kill-a-virgin! We're-pathetic-enough-as-it-is!"
Italy looked about frantically as she begged, hoping that Russia would come and get her out of this position.
"Are you a descendant of the Great Rome?" The man asked, and relief washed over Italy. The tears stopped, and she looked hopefully up at the blonde.
"You know grandpa Rome?" She asked hopefully. She smiled. "I thought you were going to shoot me, but you're not going to do that!"
.oOo.
Russia stood up, yawning. "Well, I'm sorry to break this up, but I hate to think what would happen if this continued." she said, narrowing her amber gaze at the blue-eyed being blocking her view of Italy. She still didn't know if he was a friend of foe, so, in the meanwhile, she would be on her guard.
The blonde turned at the sound of her voice, and raised an eyebrow. Russia saw him mutter something, but couldn't hear the words.
"What're you doing here?" She asked, noting the rifle that was slung over his shoulder.
The man hesitated, then looked from Russia to Italy and back again. "I came to invade the country who is the descendant of the Great Rome," He said.
Russia could see Italy's face at this point, and facepalmed inwardly as she saw a smile spread across the country's face.
"Were you expecting her to be any more than that?" Russia scoffed, pointing to the stupid grin on Italy's face.
The man was standing at an angle now that he had both Russia and Italy in his line of vision, and was beginning to look a little embarrassed.
There was an awkward silence that stretched for a moment, then Italy looked from Russia to the man.
"Pastaaa!"
Again, another inner facepalm for Russia.
.oOo.
Somehow, by some weird stroke of misfortune, or luck, depending on who you talked to, both Italy and Russia were captured by the blonde, who they discovered to be another country, Germany.
Russia was bouncing a tennis ball off of the floor, then the wall, then catching it and throwing it again, whilst Italy was napping on a chair. Russia was quite impressed at how well-respected they were, even though they were prisoners, and barely looked up as Germany walked in.
"Are either of you ever going to try and escape?" He asked, seeming faintly irritated. Russia had noticed that he had a tiring patience with how lax they were at being captured, and at how they hadn't ever tried to escape.
Russia caught the tennis ball again, and looked at him. "Nah..." She said nonchalantly. She didn't mind staying here, after all. For one thing, there was good food here, and she hadn't been doing much anyway. And, if she was here, she could follow Germany around when she wanted to. She decided that she liked him, and Russia usually either liked or hated people. She liked Germany. She tolerated Italy. She hated America.
"Even the French try to escape..." Germany muttered.
Russia rolled her eyes, and threw the tennis ball again, not bothering to aim it properly, and it bounced off the floor, then the wall, then Italy's head, then Germany. Italy awoke, screaming bloody murder, and Germany glared at Russia.
"What the Hell is your problem?"
Russia stifled laughter, and shrugged, completely ignoring Italy's freak-out, until the ginger clasped onto her arm, crying.
"Russia! Russia! We're under attack! America's come after us!" Italy cried.
Russia took the arm that wasn't being suffocated, and patted the top of Italy's head.
"It was just a tennis ball," She said. She suddenly realized that Germany was staring at them with multiple expressions on his handsome face. Mainly 'what-the-fuck-just-happened' with a little bit of 'why-did-Russia-hit-me' and a teensy bit of 'I'm-really-pissed-off-right-now'.
.oOo.
Italy whimpered, still holding onto Russia's arm.
"So America's attacking us with tennis balls now?" She asked in a meek voice.
.oOo.
Russia sighed. I give up. She thought.
.oOo.
Italy looked from Russia to Germany, and the blonde rubbed his temples, pushing the door open.
"Hey, look at how the door just conveniently opened. You could totally run away if you wanted to," He said.
Italy hung her head, and followed Russia out. They looked around for a moment, then saw some squirrels.
"Heyy, I remember you!" Italy said, darting forward to a certain squirrel. "You were here last winter!"
Italy began stroking the squirrel and humming to herself, then carried the little furry friend back to Germany's house.
.oOo.
Russia got up from her perch on a small log, tucking her pencil back behind her ear. She had been sketching Italy holding the baby squirrel before her subject had moved. Turning, she followed her eccentric friend back inside, plopping down on the closest sitting-thing, which happened to be a stool. God, I'm starting to label things like Italy does. Sitting-thing? What the hell is a sitting-thing? She wondered, shaking her head to clear it.
.oOo.
Italy walked past Germany, squirrel perched on her shoulder, and sat on the sitting-thing next to Russia. She hummed quietly to herself, and didn't notice the stares coming from the other two.
Germany shook his head, and turned around, heading towards the door.
"I'll be gone for a while," He said. "Don't do anything stupid."
Then he left, closing the door behind him, and Italy turned to Russia.
"So what do we do now?" She asked.
Russia shrugged, and looked at the clock. "It's almost five o'clock," She said. "Perhaps we should start making dinner."
Italy's hazel-brown eyes brightened, and she nodded happily. She stood up and bounded over to the kitchen. She disappeared for a moment from Russia's view, then popped her head out through the doorway.
"Pasta?"
Russia sighed, nodding. "Sure, pasta."
Italy clapped her hands together, then dove into the cupboards of the kitchen once more. At first, she could find neither the pot nor pasta, and she frowned. Russia came casually into the kitchen, and sat atop the counter, watching the European country looking around for what wasn't there.
"You know that the pots are up there," Russia said, pointing to a shelf atop the cupboards. Italy looked up, and blinked. She hadn't seen them up there. She pulled herself up onto the counter, into a standing position, then reached up and grabbed the handles of one of the pots. She brought it down from the shelf, and hopped down from the counter.
Russia then pointed to one of the unexplored cupboards. "And the pasta's in there."
Italy skittered over to the cupboard, and opened it. She reached up, shuffling a few cans out of the way, and at the back, with a thin layer of dust upon it, was a box of pasta. Italy smiled, and took it out, brushing the dust off it. She put it next to the pot, when a thought struck her. She turned and looked at her friend.
"How do you know where everything is, Russia?"
Russia shrugged. "We've been here for a few days, and I learnt my way around," She said nonchalantly.
Italy nodded. That made sense. She then turned and began to fill the pot with water, and when it was nearly full she moved it to the stove, accidentally losing some of the water on the counter due to splashing. She put the fire on, and for a moment she just stared at the water that was now dripping off the counter. Then Italy shrugged. She could clean it up later. She bounded over to the box of pasta, and inspected the contents warily. She smiled, deciding that it was still safe, and took it over to the pot. She watched the water inside for a moment, and when it began to boil she dumped the pasta inside.
Italy began to stir the pasta, and hummed to herself. She hardly noticed Russia leaving, but when her friend came back she was holding a small television, and Italy's curiosity was sparked. Russia fiddled with the antennae for a while, trying to get a clear station, and eventually she was able to get the news.
At first, Italy wasn't that interested. She never really paid much attention to the news anyway. If ever she wanted information about what was going on, she would just ask Russia, who had the answer to almost everything. However, when the reporter began talking, mention of Italy's older brother caught her interest.
"The German forces are invading France relentlessly," The reporter on the screen said. "It doesn't look like France will be able to take much more of this."
Italy blinked, and then frowned, forgetting to stir for a moment.
"I can't believe Germany would invade older brother like that!" She exclaimed. She looked to Russia, wanting an explanation for what was going on.
.oOo.
Russia looked to her friend, and sighed inwardly.
"It's the World War," She explained. "France's on one side, Germany's on the other. It makes sense that this would happen."
She watched as the other country tried to comprehend, and then Italy frowned again.
"So, what side are we on?" Italy asked.
Russia hesitated, thinking for a moment. "Well, we aren't on any side," She said. She paused, then continued. "But for the next World War, because I know that there'll be one, we should probably be on a side. I say we should be on Germany's side." She waited for her friend to respond, hoping that Italy wouldn't question her motives.
Italy nodded hastily, however, and Russia began to nod as well.
.oOo.
Italy was glad that Russia had explained it, and went back to her cooking as the reporter started talking about some random crap. She smiled to herself. Next World War, they'd be able to stay at Germany's house all the time! She began humming again, pleased. She didn't actually mind all that much, now, that Germany was invading big brother France. France had always been an asshole anyway.
Italy began humming again, and didn't notice when Germany walked through the door. However, at this point, Italy was singing and dancing around the kitchen.
"~Germany, Germany, Germany is a really-really nice place! Even though I'm your prisoner, you give me food, and it doesn't suck like English food! Sausages with cheeses, always taste so goood! It'd be heaven for a dog, yeah that's Germany!~ Yahoo!" She sang, swinging a lavender flower around and using it as a microphone.
She turned around, saw Germany, and stopped in her tracks. For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen, the only noise being the small television, which had lost the channel that it had been on.
"That was good," Germany said, and Italy basked inwardly in his praise. "When did you come up with that?"
"It was kinda an on-the-spot thing," Italy admitted.
"Oh." The blonde said, and looked around the kitchen. Russia was still sitting on the counter, there was water slowly dripping off the other counter, as well as some stray bits of pasta, the bubbles from the boiling water were spilling over and getting all over the stovetop, the empty pasta box lay on the floor next to the trash can, the refrigerator door was open, from when Italy had gone to get cheese and tomato sauce, and the dishrags that used to hang neatly in a line above the sink where strewn across the floor.
"Clean this up before dinner," Germany said with a sigh, turning and exiting the kitchen.
Italy looked around, confused and completely unfazed by the mess. Wasn't this what a kitchen was supposed to be like?
.oOo.
Russia shrugged, and got off the counter, carefully moving away from the spilled water. "You better clean this up. He looked pretty mad, and we don't want to screw this up. Remember, we need an ally for World War 2." The black-haired nation said, retiring to the other room, where she preceded to fall asleep, relieving her from the headache she got while listening to Italy's obnoxious singing.
Russia was riding a horse in the middle of an arena, and at first she was confused. Then, however, she realized that she was in a Russian ballet, and the horse was prancing around the perimeter of the circular-shaped arena in a pool of light. She was standing on her toes on the horses back as the cinder-grey creature cantered around. Russia wasn't looking at any particular spot, and somehow she knew what she was wearing. A shimmering black dress that clung to her frame, with dark red tips. It only went down to halfway along her thighs, and poofed out. She closed her eyes, and the red glitter on her eyelids shone in the light. When she re-opened her eyes, she was no longer in the Russian ballet. She was in the middle of a ballroom, with a brilliant red evening dress that hung on one shoulder. Russia looked around, but there was no-one else there. There was soft music playing, and suddenly a hand touched her arm, turning her around. She gasped slightly as she saw that it was Germany, and somehow on a silent signal, they began to dance.
"Russia! Russia!"
She was awoken harshly as Italy began shaking her shoulder, saying her name over and over loudly. Russia opened her eyes, sending a death-glare to the other country.
"What?" Russia hissed, sitting up. She hated being awoken, especially if she'd been having a good dream.
Italy cowered, skittering a few steps away, then hesitated, as if she'd forgotten exactly why she'd awoken Russia. "Uh, dinner's ready!" She said suddenly, then bounded out of the room. Russia rubbed her eyelids, then stood up, following after.
As Russia came into another room, she saw that the table had already been set as well. She went and sat down, seeing that Germany and Italy were already there.
Russia: (evil laughter) You guys don't know whats gonna happen! :3
Italy: Noo you doo~oon't!
Germany: Wunderbar. I'm surrounded by idiot fangirls.
Japan: I haven't made an appearance yet :3