This story about a lesser known Hetalia character from the English dub is also my form of procrastination. I will definitely continue my other story when school stops getting in the way. Try not to take this one too seriously, okay?

Beta'd by too-much-romance. Written and reluctantly posted by me.

Enjoy!

Germany was usually the most organized, spotless country in the world. He never let a speck of dust stay in his house, and he knew where every single piece of paper belonged in all of his filing cabinets. He prided himself on keeping his hardwood floors fresh, and replacing all of the carpets in his house on a yearly basis. Whenever Italy came over, and he often came unannounced, Germany had the habit of following him around cleaning up the bits of pasta sauce that appeared on the countertop. Germany was, essentially, obsessed with cleanliness.

That was usually the case. However, there was one small exception to Germany's otherwise impeccable hygiene.

His basement.

Germany rarely treaded into the domain of his self-proclaimed awesome brother. Of course, Prussia came up all of the time to soil the rest of the house, but Germany could handle that. The difference was that the basement was a perpetual motion device of dirt, and no matter how long Germany spent spraying the soiled carpet or scrubbing the filthy shower in the basement bathroom, he would return the next day to find that his brother had undone all of that hard work overnight.

So, Germany stopped going down there. But today was different. Prussia had said that he would be attending some sort of a world conference, but since the next world conference wasn't for another month, Germany assumed that Prussia would be stalking Austria and Hungary for a few days. In any event, this gave Germany the perfect opportunity to finally finish cleaning his basement.

Germany opened the door, pushing it against a pile of clothes that seemed to serve as a doorstop. The stale aroma of body odor compelled Germany to close his nose as he sprayed his disinfectant cleaner like a flamethrower through the room. A sudden movement at the back of the basement startled him, but it was just Blackie, who shook off a blanket and ran upstairs.

Germany sighed and swished his feet past the garbage on the floor, searching for the laundry basket. He made it to the closet, opened it up, and dug his hands inside. He brushed against a tall, thin piece of wood.

Hmm? What was that?

"Germany~!" Italy bellowed at his best friend's door, letting himself in. "Hi, Germany! We're here!"

"I-Italy-kun!" Japan cried out, startled at Italy's brash behavior. "We cannot enter another person's house without permission! We must wait for Germany-san to answer!"

"Ve~! It's okay, I practically live here!" Italy made that point very clear when he threw his leather jacket over the sofa and kicked off his shoes on to Germany's beloved white carpet. "Right, Germany?"

"H-He is not here, Italy-kun." Japan stayed outside of the house. "It would be best if we came back la-"

Italy and Japan both stopped when they heard Germany's voice from the kitchen, and the sound of running water.

"Germany!" Italy beamed and pulled the nervous Japan to the kitchen.

There, they found the large German at the counter. He was washing a wooden stick in the sink, scrubbing it carefully and even talking softly to it.

Italy drew closer and peeked curiously over Germany's shoulder.

"Is that all better? I am sorry that I forgot about you, Herr Stick..." Germany said. "I won't let you out of my sight again..."

"Ve~? Who is Herr Stick?"

Germany turned off the water and turned to Italy. "Hm! Italy, you have never met him? This is Herr Stick. He is a very close friend of mine." Germany presented the stick in his hands.

Italy blinked. Then he brightened up and bounced. "Oh, ciao~! I am Italy, it is nice to meet you. Japan!" Italy pulled Japan closer. "Say hi to Mister Stick!"

Japan glanced in confusion at the wood. "K-Konnichiwa?"

Germany was disappointed in their reactions. "Do not be so rude to Herr Stick! He is our partner now." Germany turned to it, and then back to the nations. "Herr Stick says hello."

Italy pouted. "But he can't speak, Germany~!"

Germany glared fiercely at the small nation. "Italy!"

"Wah scary!" Italy ducked behind Japan.

To spare the stick's feelings, Germany moved it behind himself for a moment. "Herr Stick cannot speak because he lost his head many years ago. I trust you to have the dignity not to point it out!" He pulled the stick tenderly back to his chest. "Don't worry, I still love you, Herr Stick..."

Japan's eyes widened and he quickly looked away.

Italy, however, smiled obliviously. "Oh, I know, Mister Stick! I will find another head for you!" Italy grinned, went right past Japan and dashed out of the house.

Germany frowned. "He soiled my carpet, didn't he?" He looked down lovingly at his stick. "We will clean it together, isn't that right, Herr Stick?"

Japan quickly excused himself as politely as he could manage. Unfortunately, Italy saw him leave, so Italy came back and dragged the poor Japanese man with him.

First, Italy knocked on Austria's door. The aristocratic gentleman eventually answered it, but he certainly took a while to get there. "Oh, hello, Italy and Japan." Austria sighed. "What can I do for you?"

Japan stood shyly behind Italy. "Is, is something the matter, Austria-san?"

"Nothing at all, do not worry-"

"Mister Austria~!" Italy said happily. "I need a head for my friend~! Do you have one?"

Understandably confused, Austria looked to Japan for a more reasonable request.

"Eto, we have an unusual friend." Japan advised calmly, though on the inside he was still bewildered, too. "He is, he is a stick."

Italy nodded fervently. "He cannot talk, ve~"

"Hm. A stick, is that right?" Austria thought it over, and smirked a little. "Yes, I believe that I understand..."

Japan shook nervously. "Y-You do?"

"That is right. But I do not have any heads. I recommend that you go ask France."

"Austria, what is taking so long? Is he out there?" Hungary came out of the house armed with a frying pan, and glowed at the sight of the guests. "Oh, Italy, you came to visit~! You are so cute!" She swept him up in a great hug.

"Ve~, Miss Hungary looks kind of scary~"

"Do not mind that. We are expecting someone." Austria returned inside the house. "Come, Hungary, those two are busy."

Hungary agreed that she did not want Italy around to see her use the pan, so she gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead and waved goodbye to them before following Austria and closing the door.

"Yay! Japan! Let's go see big brother France!" Italy skipped merrily down the road.

Japan reluctantly walked behind him, wondering why he was the only one so alienated by the stick.

Then Prussia popped out of one the bushes and shouted. "Hey! If you're going to see France, tell him that the awesome me tried his plan and it did not work!"

After thoroughly cleansing the carpet and spraying the air with more disinfectant, Germany sat down with the stick and held it close to himself. "I love you, Herr Stick. Please forgive me for leaving you in the basement with Prussia. I will never forget you again."

The stick did nothing.

"What's that? No, of course I did not cheat on you." Germany grasped the stick tighter. "Do not say such things."

The piece of wood stared back.

"I will admit, that is true." Germany grew red. "I, I have had... some dreams... about Italy, but it never went further than that..."

It seemed like the stick was nodding, or maybe Germany was just shaking it.

"Yes, you are right, I do have feelings for Italy... but you are the dearest to me, I promise." Germany kissed the stick. "Or, are you suggesting that... we have a threesome?"

The stick bowed itself in disdain.

"No, I am not suggesting I love him as much as you! I am sorry, Herr Stick, that was silly of me to say! I did not mean it." He frantically hugged the thing. "You are my love, not Italy."

But Germany could not free himself of the guilt of having replaced the dreams of his beloved stick with those of the cute Italian for so long.

"Big brother France! Big brother France, ve~!" Italy rang the doorbell. Japan took a deep breath to steady himself.

France casually answered the door. "Ah, welcome to my home, little Italy, Japan."

"Do you have a head for our friend?" Italy replied.

France's clever grin fell for a second. "Excuse me?"

"Ano, Germany has a friend in the form of a stick." Japan elaborated. "We were told that you would have a, eto, a head for him."

"The form of a stick, you said? This sounds more like something that England would help you with. Unless..." France wondered aloud. "Is it that Herr Stick again?"

"Oh, you know him~!" Italy beamed brightly. "When did you two meet?"

"Italy, you are so cute, but you can be slow sometimes." France leaned against his house. "Oh, those were the days. Back when I was a great Empire without rival, Germany came to live in my house. He was always fixated on becoming great, too. Some things never change..."

"Eto..."

"Oh, right, right. You see, when Germany came, he brought a broom with him. He was obsessed with the thing. And, at the time, I was just recovering from my, oh, my revolution. Yes, let's call it that. So, I will admit, I was not quite myself. Actually, the broom was a new invention at the time. I thought it was a weapon, and that he was planning to overthrow me." France smiled nostalgically. "So, I took off the top of the broom and I hid it. But then Germany just became obsessed with cleaning..."

"Herr Stick is a broom?" Italy asked blatantly.

France sighed. "Please pay attention, Italy."

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation, Japan felt a little resentful of France for indirectly bringing such hardship to Germany. "May we please have it back?"

"Of course. I really have been meaning to return it-"

"Thank you." Japan nodded graciously.

"Oh, oh, France!" Italy jumped up and down. "Prussia said that your thing didn't work!"

"No? But my plan is foolproof! He must be doing it wrong." France darted inside and came back out, giving the head of a broom to Italy. "Here, take it. Now, if you do not mind..." France winked goodbye to Italy and Japan and ran off for Austria's house.

"Yay! We did it!" Italy held the broom piece victoriously above himself. "Now Herr Stick can talk again! Ve~!"

"Italy-kun..." Japan grimaced, and gulped. "H-H-Hai."

Germany was greatly annoyed when he heard Italy's voice downstairs, and in his imagination, the stick did not seem so happy either. Germany had brought Herr Stick to his bedroom so that the two could get ready to take a shower together, but obviously that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Aggravated, Germany sat down on the bed with the stick.

"Germany~! Germany~!" Italy shouted, checking every room, until he found his friend in the man's bedroom. "Oh, hi, Germany. I found Herr Stick's head!"

Surprised, the large nation was no longer annoyed. "You have?"

"Uh huh!" Italy came closer and showed the broom piece to Germany. "See! Here you go, Herr Stick!" Italy put the head on the bottom of the stick.

"Italy! That is his rear!"

"Oh, sorry, sorry!" Italy removed the head, and put it on the top of the stick, fully repairing the broom. "All better~!"

Germany stared at the broom. This was not what his love was supposed to look like.

And then, he remembered who he once was. And he remembered the girl who had first given him the broom. He had forgotten about her when he had forgotten that his stick was a broom. The broom seemed to point to Italy now.

"Oh, Herr Stick... You have been trying to tell me that this whole time, haven't you..." Germany set the broom against the wall.

Italy grinned cheerfully. "He is so pretty! Can he talk now, Germany?"

"... Yes, Italy..." Germany stood up. "And he has told me everything..." He looked at Italy anew. Germany knew that the broom was right; Italy was that girl from so long ago.

Germany wanted to take Italy in his arms, as he had held Herr Stick before, and say that he remembered his true love, that he would never again let go of him.

Instead, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Italy..."

"Yes, Germany?"

"How many times must I tell you not to track dirt on my carpet?"

"Prussia? Why are you hiding in the bushes?"

"Shut up and get down!" Prussia pulled France into the bush. "You're going to give the awesome me away if you do that!"

"Yes, well, among other things, Italy told me that my plan didn't work. Is that true?"

"Obviously! I am going to need a better plan than just running in naked! Wait, what other things?"

"Nothing, just about Germany and his stick."

"You mean Herr Stick? Shit! He went through my stuff!" Prussia groaned. "Damn. Now I need a new friend! Do you think that Russia's water faucet is available? Or maybe I should get a pet bird, a small yellow one. They are so cool, almost as cool as me! Ha, yeah, see you later, France!" Prussia laughed ecstatically as he marched away to go buy a new best friend.

France rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Ve~! Bye, Germany! Bye, Japan!" Italy floated out the door, waving merrily. "Bye, Herr Stick! I'll see you later!"

"S-Sayonara, Italy-kun." Japan nodded hesitantly and turned his head back to Germany. "Italy is leaving, Germany-kun. Did you want to say farewell?"

"...No." Germany leaned thoughtfully on his broom as his eyes trailed after the Italian bouncing away. "No. That would be ridiculous."

Japan raised his brow in confusion. Maybe this had been a little too much first-hand research into Western culture for one day. Japan politely bowed his head, left the house, and shut the door.

The German stayed behind, content that this would be only a brief parting. "I... I will never again say farewell to Italy." He smiled a tiny bit, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I will never say farewell to any of my friends again." He stood up straight and gave the broom a brotherly pat on the head. "Isn't that right, Herr Stick?"

The broom agreed. "Absolutely. Can we finish cleaning the awesome Prussia's room now?"

Germany frowned. "No. Let's go bake a cake."

But don't drop it on the floor!

Thanks for reading.