Last Sunday it was snowing here, so that's where the inspiration for this story came from.
Italy smiled as he looked out his window. Snow was falling and was already beginning to stick to the ground. A scarf was wrapped around his neck and he was smugly sipping hot chocolate. Germany cocked his head to the side as he stared at him.
"Italy, if you like the snow, why don't you go outside?" Germany felt somewhat bad for insisting that the two of them keep the heating off because of the cost of it as he watched Italy shiver just a little bit.
"Well, Germany, it's because if I play out in the snow when not everything is covered in it, I'll feel like the snow is melting…like a kid who wants to play in the snow one last time before it melts, but the dread of knowing it'll all be gone in a matter of days still lingers in their mind…" Germany was surprised to hear this from the normally goofy and whiny nation that he knew and loved, but before he could say anything, Italy said, "Oh, oh, Germany! While I wait, I'll make some pasta!" Germany felt a smirk on his lips. Yep, that's Italy.
Germany followed Italy into the kitchen and watched him as he made pasta. Germany was always sure to have pasta somewhere in his house lest the Italian nation decided to come over. Back when Italy had first started coming to his house, he used to cry a lot because there was no pasta. Germany was impressed, however, with how Italy managed to look out the window to check on how the snow was and make pasta flawlessly at the same time.
"I love pasta, Germany." Italy said with a happy sort of sigh.
"Well, Italy I know-"
"I love pasta more than anything, Germany. Anything." Germany frowned at this. Anything? What about me?
"Italy, what about me?"
"No, I love pasta more." Italy said without a thought. "Pasta is just so delicious! Oh, look! The snow's covering more of the ground! Isn't that great, Germany? …Germany?" Germany looked anywhere but Italy's face and frowned. "Germany? Germany, what's wrong?" Italy asked, tilting his head at Germany.
"I…I think it's time for me to leave." Germany said. With a frown seemingly glued to his face, Germany stormed out of his house.
"But, Germany, ve! This is your house!" But it was too late; Germany had left. Italy frowned, but shrugged it off and continued fixing his pasta. Italy figured that by the time he was done eating his pasta there would be enough snow on the ground for him to go outside without feeling sad. It never crossed Italy's mind where Germany was or how he must be feeling.
The pasta, as Italy thought it to be, was amazing. That, however, was inevitable. Pasta was always good (Unless it was made by England that was). Germany's three dogs prowled around the house as Italy ate, wondering where their master had run off. Once they were convinced that he wasn't in the house, they went up to Italy and showed him lots of affection. They tried to be loving with Germany, but he wanted none of it. Germany's dogs loved Italy mainly because he was more lax that Germany and influenced their master heavily, but they thought that Italy was quite a nice nation as well.
After Italy had finished his pasta, he went outside with Germany's dogs. They played in the snow together for a while, until Italy managed to run into a tree and scrape his face up a good amount. Italy started to cry. "Germany! Germany!" He frantically yelled through sobs. Italy saw a drop of blood hit the snow. His blood. "G-G-Germany! B-B-Blood!" Then Italy realized that Germany had left, and, therefore, wouldn't help him. Germany's dogs had come up to Italy and started licking his face. "No! Bad doggies! Don't lick the blood off my face!" Italy shakily stood up and walked inside, letting the dogs in with him. Germany wouldn't have been very happy to see Italy letting his dogs back in the house when they were wet without even attempting to dry them off, but that wasn't the first thing on Italy's mind at the moment. "Germany…" Italy muttered to himself.
Italy cleaned the blood off of his face and put a few Band-Aids over the gash on his face to keep it from bleeding more than it already had. Italy looked at himself in the mirror and felt a tear fall from his eye, roll down his cheek, and drip to the floor. Italy looked away. It's just like…like…don't think about it too much.
Italy went and sat down on Germany's couch. He stared at the snow outside and gently patted Blackie on the head. The other dogs were sleeping in the kitchen. Suddenly, a shrill shrieking sound assaulted Italy's ears. Italy shot straight up, Blackie's ears stood straight up, and the other two dogs came running into the living room to see what all the commotion was about. A silver car with flames painted on it and the word 'awesome' written all over it came skidding into Germany's driveway. Some of the wheels off the car came off of the ground every time the car made a turn. Italy thought that he had a good idea of who was driving the car.
Out of the car came Prussia, whistling and whirling the car keys around on his finger. Instead of knocking like any normal person would do, Prussia kicked the door open. I knew I should have locked the door. Germany would be mad if he were here…Germany… "Hey, West!" Prussia called, "We-oh, it's you, Pasta Freak. Do you know where my bruder ran off to?" Being called a 'pasta freak'…hmm…
"No, Prussia, I don't." Italy said in his normal cheery voice.
"Hey, mind answering two questions for me? One: Why isn't my bruder here with you and two: What happened to your face?"
Italy paused for a second, then decided that he'd tell Prussia what happened. If he didn't then Germany would anyway…right? "Well, I said that I loved pasta more than I loved Germany and he just…sort of…walked out I guess. My face is like this because I ran into a tree when I was playing outside with the dogs." Italy ran a finger over the Band-Aids that concealed his wound. He couldn't help but wonder if they were starting to turn visibly red.
"Shit, kid!" Prussia exclaimed, "You said that? Oh, man. My baby of a bruder is going to be sulking for the next week at least! No idea where he could have gone though…he normally comes crying to me when shit like this happens…hmm…man, you must've really screwed with his head."
"Oh, no! German-"
"BUT, I think he'll be okay…that is, if you apologize to him and tell him what you really think…"
"What I really think? Prussia, I told Germany what I really think!"
"Oh…I suppose you'll have to lie then. If not, well, Germany might never come back…" It was very hard to tell if Prussia was serious. "Despite mein bruder's tough ways, he really is quite emotional when it comes to you, Itakins. I really don't understand why, being that you two are so different, but opposites attract, am I right?" Italy looked at the ground and sighed.
"But, Prussia, I don't want to lie. Lying is bad. Grandpa Rome always told me that…" Prussia sneered at the mention of the name 'Rome'. Prussia knew well what had happened to Rome and Germania, and he didn't like it one bit. Though, in truth, something close to what had happened to them had happened to himself. Except…no, that wasn't something to be thinking about at the moment. "Prussia, isn't there another way?" The Italian's words snapped Prussia out of his thoughts. Truly, Prussia was grateful.
"Well, you could always beat him up until he does what you want, but I doubt you have the heart for that, Pasta Freak." No…not anymore…wars do no good. Especially wars caused for no reason. "I also guess that I could try talking to him for you," If I can find him, "but I don't know how much good that'd do."
"Oh, you would, Prussia? For me? Oh, thank you!" Italy got off the couch and hugged Prussia. Prussia did nothing to resist the Italian. "Oh, Prussia. You're so nice to me!" Prussia sighed. No, I'm just a sucker for you, Italy. West would kill me if he found out about it though…
"Well, I better be going. If West isn't here that means there's no one to annoy. Plus, I have the job of finding him…oh, so much to do. Well, I'll see you later, Itakins!" Prussia walked out the door and drove off, his tires screeching the whole time they were in an audible range for Italy. Italy sighed as he noticed a crimson drop of his blood hit the floor. He needed new Band-Aids.
"Ugh, where am I even going?" Germany drove around uselessly in his car. He didn't know where he wanted to go; he just knew he wanted to be away from Italy. Germany didn't know which country's land he was on right now and he really didn't care. He wanted to get out of his car as fast as possible too, because now an old familiar smell was ever so slightly pouring into his nostrils. It was the smell that he had tried so desperately to get away, even though no one else could smell it. It was the smell of sex. From the time that he and Italy had had sex in the backseat of his car. There had been a stain on the backseat that Germany had cleaned for hours. Though, the smell was still there for Germany. No one else noticed, but he did. Though, the smell had gone away for a while, but now it was back. Germany shook his head and then refocused his eyes on the road.
After some time, Germany just couldn't stand smelling that scent that he knew was 50% Italy. So, Germany stopped at a gas station and got out of the car. The smell of gasoline wasn't much better than the smell in the car, but it was just a tiny bit better. Germany decided to walk into the store that most gas stations had and see what country's land he was on.
The store was pretty typical for a gas station's store. Germany looked at the writing on the items in the store and figured that he was on France's land. Well, wasn't that just wonderful.
"Sir…would you like…anything?" The cashier said. He could obviously tell that Germany wasn't French. English was a pretty common language, so it was probably the cashier's best bet.
"No." Germany said, walking out of the store. The cashier looked confused, but decided not to dwell on it too much. He worked at a gas station. Weirder people had come into the store.
Germany continued his aimless driving after this. He knew that he couldn't talk to France about this, so he'd have to keep going. You know, Germany, maybe it would be helpful if you looked at what direction you're going in. Germany thought to himself, but didn't listen. He was going to go until he felt like stopping.
But, that intention was shattered. Germany's car ran out of gas and left him stranded on a road far off from the highway. Germany got out of his car and kicked a tire. "Damn it!" He hissed under his breath. Now what was he going to do? Germany sighed and thought about it. Germany then spotted a newspaper on the ground. Germany picked it up and realized that it was written in Italian. Saying that Germany was embarrassed that he could read it would be an understatement. Germany dropped the newspaper and figured that he only had one choice as of what to do. Call Prussia.
As Germany dialed his brother's number on his cell phone, he was both thankful and angry that one of his bosses had made him get a cell phone a few years back. The phone rang a few times before Prussia's voice came through the line. "Hey, West! I was just looking for you! Bro, where are you? We need to talk." That's just like Prussia. Always rushing into things.
"Look, Prussia, I need for you to come and pick me up. I ran out of gas when I was driving." Prussia's unmistakable laugh erupted through the phone line. Germany resisted the urge to snap his phone in half.
"You, West? Oh, man! That's rich! Who would have thought that my always-plan-ahead-and-never-make-mistakes bruder would end up needing me to come and save him because he overlooked something! Hah!" Germany felt his eye twitching, but figured that he had to put up with his brother. "So where are you?"
Oh, man. How to answer that question? "Well, umm…I'm on Italy's land…" Germany could hear Prussia snickering through the phone line. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Okay…that's not really enough for me to come and get you."
"Well, see, I don't exactly know where I am…I just went out driving and my gas ran out on an isolated road…"
"So, you expect me to come and get you how?"
"I don't know. It was a better plan than just sitting around and doing nothing. If you can't help me, do you know who can?"
"Well, you could always ask the Italy brothers, but I really doubt that you want to talk to either of them at the moment…other than that, you're screwed, little bruder!" And with that, Prussia hung up. For a split second, Germany thought about finding wherever Prussia was and personally ripping his skull out through his mouth.
Germany sighed. "I can't talk to Italy right now…Romano hates me…which is worse?" After a mental tug of war with himself, Germany shamefully opened the glove compartment of his car and took out the piece of paper that Italy had written Romano's number on 'incase of an emergency'. Germany dialed the number and prepared to have his ear chewed out.
"This is Romano. Who is this and what the hell do you want?"
"Well, um…" Say something, you idiot! "This is…this is Germany."
"You? What do you want you potato bastard? And where's my brother? Not here, that's for sure!"
"I…look, my car broke down on either your land or Italy's…I tried to ask Prussia to come and pick me up, but he said that he didn't know the landscape very well and that you or Italy and I kind of…don't want to talk to Italy right now." Germany felt his pride fly out of the country. No, he felt it fly out of the continent. Here he was, talking to a guy who absolutely hated him and asking him to come and pick him up because he had started to drive around aimlessly to emotionally compromise. Germany slapped his palm to his forehead and waited to hear Romano's response.
"Hmph, Potato Bastard. At least you didn't ask my stupid little brother. I'll pick you up if you give me some clues about where you are. Only because I want you to stay away from my little brother though!" Romano added his last sentence in rather hastily. He didn't want Germany to get the wrong idea. Actually, Romano thought that Germany was too stupid to get the wrong idea, but that thought was overridden by the fact that Germany was a pervert, and Romano knew this.
"Well," Germany looked around, but still had no idea how to give Romano any clues as to where he was. "I honestly have no clue where I am. I only know I'm on yours or Italy's land because there was a newspaper on the ground that was in Italian."
"Ugh, that's troubleso-…how did you know it was in Italian? Wait; don't tell me, my little brother taught you some Italian. Ugh. That idiot. Hang on, maybe I can convince my boss to check the phone companies to see where you are." Germany found himself waiting for about an hour before Romano came back on the phone. Verdammt…my boss is going to kill me when he sees the phone bill…"Okay, Potato Bastard. I think I know where you are. I'll come and get you, you bastard." With that, Romano hung up the phone. Germany sighed. He couldn't believe himself.
After a while (Germany didn't feel like checking his phone for the time) Romano drove up in his car. "There you are, bastard! Get in."
"What about my car?"
"I'll get someone to get it. Come on!" Shamefully, Germany opened the door to the passenger side of the car and sat in the seat. Germany kept his head down and could feel the tension in the car. After a good ten minutes, Romano said something. "I'm curious. Why didn't you call my little brother? I mean, I'm glad you're keeping away from him, but I'm just wondering."
"Well, umm…"
"I promise I'll only punt you out the window if it's something sexual." Germany's face flushed.
"S-Sexual? I don't have sex with Italy!" That's a lie and you know it, Germany.
"Well, good. Tell me what happened."
"…This is going to sound really stupid, but Italy said that he loved pasta more than me, so I…stormed out. Kind of." The words he had said sounded less stupid in his head.
"That's it?" Germany nodded sheepishly. "Well, if that isn't one of the most stupid things I've heard…and that's saying a lot, considering who my brother is. Look, I don't care if my brother loves you less than pasta. I really don't. What amuses me though is that your supposed to be big and strong Germany, but you're so bent out of shape over something my brother said. You know him; you know how silly and random he can be. I don't know if he actually does love pasta more than you or if he was just rambling. Frankly, I would be thrilled if he loved pasta more than you, but that's beside the point. Now, I'm going to help you get your car junk sorted out, and then you're going to get out of my sight. I really don't care what you do or where you go, but you're getting out of my sight. Bene?" Germany nodded. He didn't want to stay around Romano longer than he had to either.
Having to hang around Romano while his car was towed and gassed up was probably the most embarrassing thing Germany ever had to do. Yet another thing he would have to explain to his boss. Germany sighed. I hate to say…er…think it, but Romano was right. I am Deutschland the nation. How could someone like Italien get me in such a state of mind? …Oh, wait. That's right. Because I love him. Germany sighed again. Was he, Germany, getting soft? No! Once I get my car back I'm going straight back home and ignoring my feelings completely around Italy! That's what a real man does! Right? Right!
Romano hardly had time to send Germany off with a few swears and wishes of bad luck before his car was out sight. Romano figured that Germany was probably breaking a few traffic laws with his frantic driving, but Romano would rather have the police deal with it than him. "See ya later, bastard." Romano mumbled before walking back into his house.
"Did you talk to Germany, Prussia?" Italy asked Prussia through the phone.
"Well, sort of. I did talk to him, but I didn't get to have a full out discussion with him. See, he was…umm…how do I phrase this without sounding mean? Oh, well. Anyway, Germany's car ran out of gas on either yours or Romano's land. He asked me to come and help him, but, naturally, I don't know the terrain of your land very well, so I said no…I also made fun of him a bit, but never mind that."
"Oh, no! Germany's car ran out of gas? That's terrible! He didn't even call m-…oh…" Was Germany really that upset about what I said? Oh, I feel terrible…
"Hey, if you're worried then I don't have much to say to comfort you. My bruder isn't exactly the easiest to predict, if you know what I mean." That's true. Italy thought, I don't think anyone really expected the whole thing with Hitler…those were some pretty bad times now that I think about them.
"Well, thanks for trying to help, Prussia."
"Hey, no problem, Pasta Freak!" Prussia hung up without saying goodbye. Normally this would bother Italy, but he had other things on his mind. I guess all that's left to do is wait. I seriously doubt that Germany would answer his phone even if I called him…
So, wait was what Italy did. After a while the waiting got extremely tedious and Italy ended up watching TV upside down from the couch. At first Germany's dogs licked his face and tried to see what he was doing, but eventually they just laid down and ignored Italy. By the time Germany got home, Italy had fallen asleep upside down while the TV was still on.
When Germany slammed the door to his house open he had quite a few traffic tickets in his hand. He didn't care. His boss was probably pissed off at him enough as it was, what was some traffic tickets going to do? The good thing about being a nation was that you could never get fired. For some nations, this was probably the only reason why they weren't fired.
Okay. Italy is asleep. This is good. Germany crept over to the couch and sat beside Italy. Though, why he's upside down and the TV is on is beyond me. Germany gently pulled Italy up and rested his head on a pillow on the couch. Italy's face was red from the blood rushing to it. Then Germany turned off the TV and kissed Italy on the cheek. He could never stay mad at Italy for long.
Then, Italy started to move a bit. He yawned (And though hard to tell) Germany saw that Italy had woken up. Oh shit… He thought.
"G-G-G-Germany!" Oh shit he's crying. He must be really pissed at me. Damn, this is bad. To Germany's surprise, Italy sat up and hugged him. Germany noticed the Band-Aids on Italy's face and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Germany! I missed you so much! I went out to play in the snow and I ran into a tree, but you weren't there so I had to take care of it myself! Then Prussia came over and I asked him to go and find you if he could and oh, Germany, I'm glad that you're back!"
"…So…you're not mad?"
"No, Germany, I'm not mad." Italy said.
"Look, Italy, I'm sorry that I left like that. I was being a dick and I overreacted." No, I didn't, but how can I say that with Italy like this? But, to Germany's surprise, Italy didn't agree with him.
"No, Germany, you didn't overreact. I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have had said anything…oh well. It's all in the past. All that matters now is that you're back and I love you!" Italy kissed Germany on the lips and Germany lightly pushed Italy down against the couch.
No words needed to be said. Words were the exact opposite of what both Italy and Germany wanted. Germany was kidding the Italian nation fiercely. He wanted to make up for leaving him. Germany almost ripped Italy's clothes off of him, but reminded himself that he was with Italy and not some random fuck buddy. As Germany stripped off his own clothes, he kissed Italy and jammed his tongue into his mouth. Italy wasn't used to Germany being as forceful as he was being unless Germany had told him in advance that he was going to be rough or when they were doing something kinky. Italy jittered a little thinking about it.
Now, the two of them were naked and neither of them felt like nations. Both felt like humans. Like Ludwig and Feliciano. Just two people in love.
Germany licked one of Italy's nipples once or twice before he decided that he really just wanted to have sex with Italy and skip the foreplay. Italy and Germany's eyes met for just a second before Germany popped three of his fingers in his mouth, not really in the mood to trek all the way up the stairs to get the lube.
Already? Italy thought, but we don't even ha-oh… Italy glanced down and realized that both he and his German lover had erections. I didn't even notice… I was too excited I guess. Italy's body spasmodically jerked when Germany stuck one of his fingers into Italy's entrance because he hadn't been paying attention. With the next two fingers, Italy was ready however.
Then, Germany was licking and sucking on his hands until they were coated in saliva. Pre cum trickled down Italy's length as he watched and imagined Germany licking him and sucking on him in the way he was doing with his hands. Italy even wiggled his hips in anticipation, whining slightly.
After Germany had ran his saliva-coated hands along his erection until it was wet enough, he positioned himself at Italy's entrance and thrust in. At that time, all of Germany and Italy's worries were washed away. All that they knew about now were each other.
Sorry to cut off the sexy stuff. I just typed that sentence and thought it would be a good thing to end on.