Two to tango- Italy one shot
Warning, in my opinion, I accidentally turned Italy extremely OOC! (But honestly, Italy's personality wouldn't work with the story the way it is.) My love for Harry Lloyd also seeped into this story, I apologize for that. ^^; Also I tried writing an intense make out scene at the end (it's really only the second or third I've done) so try not to laugh at it. Please enjoy "Two to Tango".
Monica was walking through the market, carrying the books she was borrowing from England. Her long chestnut hair was pulled up into a large clip and for the most part held together by bobby pins. Monica needed to make sure her ghostly pale skin didn't get burnt under the warm summer sun, so she carried a parasol while walking the cobblestone street. She had bright hazel eyes that always seemed to be smiling. When she spoke with you, you would always feel like the most important person in the world to her. She had many friends too. Her happy go lucky, sweet, and accepting nature allowed her to get along with mostly anyone, even the power hungry Prussia. She didn't care about someone's past, only their present, allowing her to become great friends with Germany. Her good listening ear allowed her to become fast friends with the loud America. And her thoughtfulness and good manners meant England and Japan always enjoyed her company. Overall, every country she knew was considered a friend.
But every country thought she was crazy when she moved in with France. She tried to reassure them she would be fine and eventually they gave up. So there Monica was, strolling down Paris's cobblestone streets, walking back to France's home, greeting those she passed.
"Monica! Wait up ve!" Northern Italy called. Monica turned around to find one of her closest friends, Italy, running up to her. She smiled and waved.
"Hello Italy!" she exclaimed when he reached her. He ran directly into her, giving her a hug. She happily returned the hug, but realized something was wrong when he wouldn't let go. "Italy? What's wrong, sweetie?"
"I… I… I…" he stuttered. He loosened his grip on her to allow himself to look into her eyes. Monica was very concerned at this point. "I just wanted to say hello." He gave her a weak smile.
"Bull. Now tell me what's wrong," she replied sternly. Italy knew he could trust Monica, but didn't know how to tell her.
"Nothing's wrong!" Italy reassured with a smile. Monica gave him a skeptical look. He playfully mimicked her glance, causing her to laugh.
"Okay, okay, I can take a hint. If you want to tell me, then you can," Monica replied. Italy assured her he would.
"Where did you get that book?" he asked, referring to the light brown and gold book. She looked down, as if she was surprised to hear that a book was in her hands.
"Oh this? It's one of Iggy's books. He's letting me borrow it," Monica explained. Italy lifted the book up to see the title on the spine.
"David Copperfield by Charles Dickens," he read aloud. "Mona, why do you always read such depressing books? After all of this Charles Dickens stuff, I'm surprised you're still so happy go lucky," Italy chuckled.
"Well, reading depressing books makes me realize how fortunate I am to have the life and friends that I do! Besides, I watched the 1999 movie and I felt like I should read the book," she shrugged.
"That doesn't seem like your kind of movie," Italy commented.
"Well, it had Daniel Radcliff when he was still adorable and young Harry Lloyd in the cast, so I felt almost obligated to watch it. I just wish I could go back in time and pinch their cheeks!" Monica squealed. If Italy knew anything, it was that if Monica loved two things in this world, it was French bread, and Harry Lloyd.
"You're such a fan girl!" Italy said, messing Monica's hair up a bit. "I almost feel like you don't love me as much as Harry."
"Oh don't play that game! You know I love you!" Monica smiled. "Anyway, I have to leave. I need to help France with last minute details for tonight. I'll see you there, right?" Monica asked, walking away.
"Of course! Save a dance for me?" Italy called back.
"Always!" Monica called, taking off in France's house's direction. Italy sighed; he blew it. He was going to tell her, but he couldn't. Not even France's counseling helped. Italy walked back in the direction of his hotel to get changed for tonight.