Pizza Delivery

by MidnightSakuraBlossom and SYD

7th in my collection of Hetalia/Spongebob parodies! In which Germany and Italy are, well, forced to go out into the night on a pizza-delivering journey to England's house and chaos no doubt ensues along the way! Can they get the pizza there safe and sound? Will Germany be able to stand Italy's pioneer antics when they get lost? And will their sanity manage to stay in one piece?

Well, you all pitched suggestions, and here's the next Hetalia/Spongebob parody: Pizza Delivery~! *Audience of readers stand and applaud me epically while I soak in all of the love* I actually was torn between using Pizza Delivery or Graveyard Shift first, but I thought that Pizza Delivery was a little too fitting and would be hilarious to write – so here we are now! I hope you all enjoy, and we shall meet again in the ending A/N.

Keep in mind that I mildly changed up the lyrics of the Krusty Krab Pizza song, I love it to death but I didn't keep that name for the (now un-named restaurant) and so I had to edit. If you know of the song, just picture Italy singing these edited lyrics to the tune of the original. And if you haven't heard the song, I INSIST you go to Youtube and search it; it's short but really catchy and funny.

CHARACTER ROLES:

N. Italy as Spongebob Squarepants

Germany as Squidward Tentacles

Switzerland as Mr. Krabs

England as the pissed off customer who doesn't get a drink

DISCLAIMER: MidnightSakuraBlossom recently has failed to own Hetalia, or well, hasn't actually gone through with it yet due to her lawyer laughing about the case and leaving her. So, she owns nothing related to the series except purchased merchandise like any other fan.

-MidnightSakuraBlossom

~.~.~.~.~.

Pizza Delivery

Written By: MidnightSakuraBlossom

Proofread By: A friend of hers, RoseField (her pen name she gave herself)

Rated: T

~.~.~.~.~.

Recently, there have been money issues in Europe, the struggling personifications have been suggested (read: forced) by their bosses to make at least an attempt to help each other out by working together at really crappy odd jobs until some money was raised. It wasn't so strange to hear of this situation, as a lot of the nations were having to work among their people sometimes for either serious situations or their own entertainment.

In this situation, certain nations have been assigned to be together. The focus of this story will only be mentioned, so don't question the others. Anyway, one of the groups consisted of the very bubbly North Italy, the very stoic Germany, and a neutral dude we all know; Switzerland. They didn't really know how or why, but were told to team up and manage a restaurant of some kind. And although a little discontented with the events, Germany and Switzerland contemplated what kind of restaurant to open up considering the three of them had tastes that were different.

That's where Italy came in. When Germany and Switzerland turned back to where he stood, they were stunned to see that he had somehow constructed a very nice Italian-style restaurant and stood by the brown double doors leading inside wearing a proud smile suddenly wearing a very nice crimson suit. They were awe-struck by the fact he assembled that in ten seconds, but otherwise felt it was passable. His food wasn't bad, and that suit made him look suave. It was either the scent of the cooking gnocchi or the now-sparkly and suave Italy enticing them to enter, but the two caved in and agreed to work here.

Working here wasn't too awful like the German and Swiss man expected. Italy cooked the food and delivered to the customer, Germany cleaned up and helped out if Italy was too swamped by the orders, and Switzerland managed the place which meant looking over the money and assigning customers seats and the like. The three were doing fairly well for the first few weeks, actually able to almost put up with each others' annoying sides for half of the day. Things were mostly calm during the daytime, but people really piled in at night for these ridiculous deals Italy came up with.

Currently, the night was passing by. It was already sometime after ten, and this meant the restaurant would be closing it's doors for the day. Germany was honestly exhausted from today's incidents, Italy had accidentally slipped on the just cleaned floors and the several trays of food were thrown about so he had to pitch in and help cook more, there were some complaints by the long time it was taking, Switzerland was busy chilling in his office in a kiddie pool filled with money and blasting his radio to notice the problems so a lot of people stormed out or complained from not getting tables, and Romano stopped by one time for no reason other than to make an attempt to screw up Germany's work or at least make him look like he was inept at this job – his plans all blew up in smoke figuratively and he finally fled the restaurant in humiliation.

All in all, he was glad the day was coming to an end.

It's just, Italy was taking a very long time cleaning the tables. Germany was assigned to clean up, but since he was exhausted from this long day, the founder of the restaurant said with good spirit that he would return the favor. The Italian still smiled as he polished one particular table up perfectly, not realizing the big-ass amount of time that was passing. Once he was finished, they could leave this place. But he didn't get that concept.

"Hurry up with those tables, Italy," Germany called out a few inches away from where the Italian was. So it seemed unlikely and kind of senseless for him to be loud. But he didn't get that concept either. "It's almost closing hour – and I would like to go HOME!" With the way he dragged out the word 'home' at the end, it kind of almost sounded like 'homo' so Italy briefly lifted his head and stared with interest before returning to his work.

Ignoring the fact that seconds ago, he thought Germany said he would like to 'go homo' because it's closing hour, Italy stared deeply in a soul-penetrating way at the table which gleamed and sparkled with cleanliness. He wasn't satisfied and began to scrub so fast it was assumed the table would go up in flames.

No story is complete with out the call to adventure. Signaling the beginning of adventure and epic-ness, the restaurant's phone which was placed on a counter which was conveniently a few inches away from Germany began to ring like crazy. It made the aforementioned nation glare, who the hell would place an order for pasta at such an ungodly hour?

"VE~! I GOT IT! I GOT IT!" Italy promptly cried out once hearing the call to adventure. He threw the smoking washcloth away and dramatically leaped through the air to reach the phone and happily take a beloved customer's order. "I'm going to take an order for the first time~!"

Alas, just as Italy's hand brushed the counter, Germany stopped staring with a questioning expression and then grasped the phone instead and answering with a less than welcoming hello. Meanwhile, Italy was suspended in the air still reaching for the phone, he appeared disappointed and logic went into effect and caused him to land onto the floor.

"...I'm sorry sir, we're about to close." Germany responded to the order of some random dude who sounded British. He sighed with irritation, when the random person began to get aggravated and tried to explain that England told him to order some-

-Alas again, the phone was pulled away from Germany's ear and into the one of Switzerland whom popped up from apparent nowhere once realizing he was going to get another customer. The VERY long phone cord dangled in the air and Italy held onto it securely for his boss when gradually standing back up.

"Hello, Vash, manager of the restaurant, speaking. What order would you like to place, sir?" Switzerland promptly proclaimed in a polished up not-so-intimidating voice for the customers whom were so kind as to give him money. His eyes widened and sparkled and he almost grinned when he heard the order of the random British guy. "Pizza? Of course we have pizza! You will not be disappointed by our fresh and hot pizza, that is a promise! The price is one-hundred Euro and will be delivered safely by a German deliveryman!" The British guy was about to say something else about the pizza order, but Switzerland was quite thrilled by the turn of events and so he didn't notice and released his grasp on the phone.

The phone flew backward into the other half of it and toppled onto the floor from intense impact. Switzerland tried to wipe the excited grin off his face so it wouldn't become him while he walked away slightly.

Germany overheard the entire thing and he was appalled by the turn of events. Since when was he a deliveryman for pizza – which the restaurant didn't even serve! He decided to protest, "But Switzerland, we don't serve pizza!"

Switzerland turned to meet Germany's eyes. He wore a blank expression as usual, folding his arms across his chest. When the Swiss man snapped a finger, Italy sprang into action and dashed into the kitchen – only to come out nearly a full minute later with a steaming hot and homemade pizza safely contained in a pizza box. The challenge had been accepted, and it had been carried out with ease.

Proved wrong, Germany now looked exhausted and not interested in the situation as he pointed out, "We don't deliver the food."

"That is true." Switzerland commented, turning back around to Germany with the pizza in his possession. He promptly shoved the pizza box into the protesting German's. "WE don't deliver, YOU do. And that is a order from the manager."

Wiping his hands, satisfied with telling him off, Switzerland turned on his heels and walked away. He felt he had nothing left to say, Germany knew that he was underneath him as long as they worked at this establishment until the problems in Europe were cooled down.

Still, Germany didn't like where this situation was going. Not at all. He stared, horrified, at the pizza he was supposed to deliver in his hands. Sure, it smelled good and the box didn't burn his skin to death, but this was all too much! He shouldn't have to deliver a pizza all the way to some random British guy who wasn't thoughtful enough to give an address!

"Switzerland," Germany spoke up, following after a departing Switzerland. "Why can't Italy deliver this pizza instead of me...?"

"Great idea!" Switzerland proclaimed very randomly, turning sharply and vaguely smirking sadistically. "Take him with you on the delivery. And perhaps not bring him back."

Germany stared, even more horrified, and then shifted his eyes to the right to see a grinning Italy approach him.

"That's NOT what I had in mind...!"

~.~.~.~.~.

In the end, Germany could not change Switzerland's mind about sending him off on a pizza delivery with Italy in tow. He was horrified at the mere thought, and knew this meant trouble. There was no telling what kind of irritating things the Italian would do! Worst of all: he may fall too far and bond with him after these years of not having to look after him!

Outside of the restaurant was where Germany's car was located. If he had to be cast out into the night on a pizza-delivering journey,wasn't it fitting that they use vehicle? After all, he may be yelled at if he took Switzerland's and it got wrecked and Italy walked because the restaurant was in walking distance of one of his many homes. Highly annoyed with the turnout, Germany hurriedly got into the passenger seat with the pizza and reclined with no relaxation whatsoever.

Italy was humming and skipping as he checked out the vehicle from every angle to ensure it would survive their pizza-delivering journey. He wouldn't want anything to go wrong, this was supposed to be a wonderful event. Giving a poor, hungry customer some food and seeing his or her face lighten with ever-lasting joy and hear their crying stomachs no longer. Ah, it was going to be such a satisfying situation for everybody!

Even if Switzerland just wanted Italy out of his way while he spent some alone time with the money they collected.

"Front angle, check!" Italy called out as he stood at the hood of the vehicle. He then walked around to the rear side. "Back angle, check!" He then lowered his gaze to the bumper. "Bumper, check!" Italy then smiled and brushed his hand across a bumper sticker which read 'Speed Demon of Europe' inside a flame print. "Bumper...sticker! Check!"

With the front and back angle, bumper, and bumper sticker all accounted for, Italy gave it all a seal of approval and skipped back to the driver's seat of the car. He hopped in and slammed the door shut tightly and securely.

Despite the fact Germany was appearing discontent and resting his hands behind his head, Italy was much spirited and turned to smile at him. "Ve~ everything is in order! Oh, this is so exciting! Germany, that customer is going to get this restaurant's FIRST-EVER delivered pizza!"

"I'm thrilled." Germany deadpanned, he released a long and tired sigh and then gestured to the steering wheel. "If you're so eager, you can drive."

Italy's smile promptly faded as he turned back to the wheel and gazed at it. Perspiration built on his forehead and hands as he nervously explained, "But...I legally can't. My license was confiscated last year because some cops said I drive too crazily."

Thinking back on it, the situation was very depressing. Italy was just cruising through the world one day, he was having the time of his life letting the top of his car down and letting the breeze violently rip through his hair and nearly slash his face. He had the radio busting through the noise with catchy instrumental dancing tunes, and if he closed his eyes and concentrated it was like he was the only one on the streets. But, apparently, the cops didn't like this too much because he was going so fast and furious that he set thirteen people's yards on fire, ruined the streets, made one of the criminals in the back of their car deaf from his music playing, and there were complaints everywhere. His license was taken away, he wasn't legal to drive now and became nervous to do so without a license.

Still, Germany wanted this horrid situation to be done and over with. Despite knowing how hesitant Italy was, he cracked an eye open and grasped one of his hands, placing it on the wheel. "Come on, Italy, we have a GPS and everything. If we don't make this delivery, Switzerland will never let us hear the end of it."

"Ve...yeah...but..."

"Just drive how would normally with your license."

Apparently, it had been so long that Germany had taken a car ride with Italy that he forgot that he was the true Speed Demon of Europe – that bumper sticker should have been attached to his own instead. Trouble was just waiting to happen when Germany claimed the passenger seat with the delicious and steaming hot pizza. But, then again, no one can think clearly when exhausted.

"Ve...okay then..." Italy rubbed his hands in preparation, suddenly eager to drive this bad boy. But, in a wave of nervousness, that eagerness faded and his eyes snapped open as he gazed at all of the meters, buttons, and the steering wheel. Strange enough, he felt like a newbie at this. "Um...wait...don't tell me how..."

"Back it up."

Germany...did Germany just help him? Italy remained uncool and hesitant, but he still shifted and met Germany's clearly annoyed face. "W-what did you say?"

"Back. Up. The car."

"R-right...'back it up'." Italy's voice was cracking with terror. He was given the key and he shakily shoved it into the ignition. He almost jumped out of his seat when the soft motor purred. Now, he suddenly didn't know what to do anymore. So, what else could he do but grasp the stick in a feeble attempt to get something to work?

Seeing how uncharacteristically awful he was being at this, Germany looked at him with confusion. They were not getting anywhere this way, maybe it was a bad move to claim the passenger seat after all. Oh, this had to be stopped before he lost his mind! It was time to give the feeble Italian a crash course in driving, apparently!

"Back it up!" Germany finally snapped. Italy did jump this time, he then whimpered pathetically and his hand that once grasped the stick shift thing was shivering and scratching his arms nervously. "Italy, shift into REVERSE!"

"R-r-reverse? Oh...! Right...! Reverse..." Was Italy's fearful response. He then plastered a casual smile on his lips, to hide the fact he was even more freaked out than ever. Germany was still glaring at him as if he was being ridiculous, and he straightened up and reached for the stick thing.

However, that was when Italy's mind went totally blank. It short-circuited. He starred with wide, shocked eyes as he gazed at the readings on the bar near the stick things no longer said park, reverse, and that other stuff. To his destroyed mind, it looked as if it was written in Korean – which he couldn't understand! And now, thanks to him believing the writings were really in Korean, he had a mental picture of South Korea himself laughing at him and mocking his nervousness because he couldn't handle driving cars made in his home...!

Italy was basically just a wreck of himself. His fingers twitched madly and he was sweating as his hand hovered over the stick and the not-really-there Korean characters taunted him and sent his mind spiraling out of control.

Germany was officially pissed off from the lack of progress in two entire minutes. He stared at Italy freaking out and he was beyond bewildered, but also annoyed that he wasn't doing anything productive. At long last, he began shouting, "BACK UP THE FUCKING CAR!"

That was the final push to Italy's complete freak out. He gasped suddenly and shouted: "BACKING UP!" very randomly and shoved the stick into the reverse section before slamming a foot against the gas pedal. And since the car was facing backward to the street, they backed up all the way down the roads very fast and were going in the wrong way.

The co-called Speed Demon of Europe drove backward very rapidly down the roads and caused many other drivers to cuss them out and have to go off of the road just to avoid them. Italy was still in full freak out mode, but was also loving the speed which seemed to sooth him ever so slightly. His foot never left the gas pedal. They were going so fast that the car itself basically looked like a black blur to many spectators.

Germany was highly freaked out as well. He was clawing the seat at first and also the pizza box for life itself. His eyes were wide and he was hoping to God they wouldn't combust from the unrecorded speed. He was all for a little speed himself, basically saying 'fuck you' to speed limits and such. But...THIS WAS TOO MUCH TO HANDLE.

From the inside of the car, this could be heard:

"GIVE ME THE WHEEL, ITALY! GIVE ME THE WHEEL!"

"I'M BACKING UP! BACKING UP! BACKING UP!"

"IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME THE WHEEL, WE'RE GOING TO CRASH AND DIE WITH A PIZZA AT OUR SIDE!"

"BACKING UP! BACKING UP!"

...It was going to be a very long night for Germany, if he survived it.

~.~.~.~.~.

Several hours passed until the Speed Demon of Europe raced it's way through at least three time zones and across all kinds of terrain. From bumpy rocks, beautiful fields which had been set on fire, snowy Alps all melted and crumbling, they even rapidly cruised through Italy and crashed into the tower of Pisa just as American tourists were snapping photos (thanks to their collision, it's now leaning upright and the area surrounding has flaming tire tracks by the way).

Now, our focus take place in a random desert in the middle of seemingly nowhere. It could be said that they were somewhere in Egypt or whatever. But we can't see our silent, badass Egyptian personification anywhere in sight so it's up for debate where this setting is.

There happened to be some winding roads through this desert at least. And the Speed Demon of Europe could vaguely be seen backing up rapidly going down the roads as the vehicle clicked and wheezed and Italy's cries of "BACKING UP!" were less far away and now very loud and echoing. At long last, the car gave out right then and there. Italy shut up as the noises from the hood grew more violent and it shut down right on the road.

Italy sat there gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes wide open and his expression a mixture of mortification from the crazy way he acted about backing up and a realization as to what just happened and that they were totally off course.

Germany's expression was a mixture of blank-ness and scorn for what just happened. He wasn't even bothering to hang on anymore now that his car died, he was slumping and holding his legs close to him.

The pizza was in the backseat still steaming hot as if it was just prepared seconds ago and hadn't been whisked around the world in eighty seconds.

The sun overhead sizzled and the atmosphere was dry. As far as the eye could see, there was sand, sand dunes, exotic birds briefly passing by, yeah, they were in complete nowhere. Unless England has been reduced to a water-less desert, they were not at the targeted place. And the bitch of a GPS was somehow wrecked during their journey through the second time zone.

"Backing up..." Italy murmured quietly, his eyes closing again as he slumped in the seat, blushing vividly.

Germany chose not to get pissed off. He sat up and facepalmed however. "Well...you backed up." Italy looked at him, surprised to see he wasn't looking overly hostile or wanting to choke the life out of him for what he did. Relieved, Italy smiled and then opened the car door and began to step out. "And, do you know what else? We're out of gasoline." Italy gazed at the little needle locked on the empty label. He then got out before Germany could actually murder him.

Germany tried to remain calm. Calm, calm, calm. But it was proving to be the ultimate challenge once he too got out of their useless wreckage of a car and then surveyed the area. He suddenly felt like it was all over for him. He was forced to travel this sandy hell of a unknown area and with ITALY and a PIZZA as the only sources of companionship at his side for all of eternity!

"And do you know what else, Italy?" Germany could be heard yelling as his angry tone of voice began to carry over the dunes and landscape, rustling the occasional plant and rippling through the waters of the rare river. "WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF FREAKING NOWHERE!"

Back at the car's location, Germany folded his arms across his chest, his fingers clawing into the sleeves of his shirt as he walked around aimlessly fearing the worst. Italy suddenly popped up at his side now holding the pizza in his hands. The Italian cleared his throat to acquire his attention away from the scenic sights of mocking sand and a blazing sun.

"And you know what else, ELSE?" Spoke Italy in a mildly discontent tone as he held the pizza to Germany's line of eyesight. Humph, yeah, like he really wanted to see the SOURCE of his misery! "I think that the pizza is getting cold."

That was all Germany needed to hear. He was officially pissed off. He couldn't be previously when he forgot that Italy was a crazy driver, he couldn't be pissed when the car ran out of gas. If anything, he would have liked to beat Switzerland to a pulp for making them deliver the food whilst he stayed back, spent alone time with his money, and then snuggled up by the TV in his office with Liechtenstein. The reason for his massive rage was because his traveling companion had the nerve to be concerned over FOOD rather than the SITUATION.

"And the pizza is cold?" Germany yelled, feigning distress as he leaned into Italy's face, appearing freaked out and grasping his hair with both hands. Meanwhile, Italy cringed and cowered behind the pizza box. "Oh dear God! The pizza is cold! Not the pizza...NOT THE PIZZA..."

Finished loosing his sanity, possibly, over that not so distressing piece of news, Germany stood back upright as the rage coursed through his veins. His hands curled into knuckles as he turned and stomped over to the frozen vehicle from the rear.

"Oh, how could this get any worse...?" Shouted Germany as he delivered a powerful kick to the rear of the car. He didn't seem to notice that this could possibly dent it. He didn't even notice that this steaming heat and lonely atmosphere was driving him mad the longer he remained out in it.

Obviously Germany should not have tempted fate. Everyone should know that's not the best thing to do when faced with an apparently hopeless situation and you could have had a hidden manner of digging yourself out. Like something out of a bad, mocking movie, the needle resting on the empty symbol quickly flickered to full from that powerful kick of hatred. And before the two could even blink, the vehicle's engine roared to life and it rapidly drove...itself...back in the direction they had come. It was going so fast that it wasn't seconds before it was already totally out of their sight.

Germany was left standing there with a really bummed expression. Italy was at his side still holding the pizza and wearing a rather intrigued expression because he wondered how cars could gain life after dying out and then being kicked.

The silence was so intense after this. The faintest whisper of the driest breeze rasped audibly, the softest movement of pebbles in the random roadway like a crumbling mountain of sorts. Neither of the stranded nations fully knew how to react to fate pretty much owning them.

Finally, Italy shifted around to meet Germany's eyes and held the pizza out to him as if to single there was actually a source of hope despite what was already assumed. "Ve~ Germany...we can still deliver this pizza on foot. Just because your car is probably back at the restaurant, it won't hold us back from making more history."

Germany's eyes simply narrowed and he felt stress well up from the mere thought of being forced to walk through a big-ass desert with only a very ditzy Italian and a boxed and maybe-cold pizza as his only companions.

Fate really hated him.

~.~.~.~.~.

Things were going well during the nations' travels. Well. Somewhat at least. The whole situation seemed to fate saying: "screw you and your plans for tonight" and brought them together through the craziest things. So far, the two were walking at a brisk pace down the road in an attempt to get out of here and to England's pad. But this wasn't easy, as they were sure they were loosing their senses of direction due to the occasional gusts of wind carrying the dust and sand around and the way Italy kept trying to lead the way because he felt he should pay for acting ridiculous back in the car. Surprisingly, the Italian was able to keep up.

Or, maybe it was due to Germany willingly being just slow enough for Italy to walk alongside of and not get exhausted too soon. He didn't know why he was doing this. Perhaps the stoic German was actually letting his emotions get the best of him this time, and have some sympathy for Italy after experiencing him pass out on him during their training routines – and that was at the middle checkpoint of the second lap. Of course, point this out to Germany, he would simply deny he was purposely being slowly brisk for his sake.

If he thought it over, he noticed them being all alone in an unidentified area with no hope of something logical happening any time soon was like a breath of fresh air. It made him nostalgic. He thought back to some times during their old alliance when Italy would get into trouble, he would have to break him out. Italy would fail to do the simplest task, he would have to watch him like a hawk and ensure he didn't screw up the next four times.

Right now, Germany wished that Italy's mouth would be magically sealed up. Because as they walked alongside the winding paths of the random street, the Italian tried to spread some cheer by singing. Yes. Singing happily without much of a care in the world. As much as he was kind of liking getting lost in memories, Italy just wouldn't shut the hell up. He wasn't a horrible singer at least, but still, was it too much to ask to resort to humming or just be quiet?

Over the course of their traveling by foot, Italy found a tune in his head. A very peppy instrumental one consisting of upbeat unplugged guitars, trumpets, occasional drums, and pianos. He had a spring in his steps as he followed alongside Germany and belted out the song he had came up with. Being convinced that he was making this more enjoyable, and maybe his uptight friend would sing along~!

"The freshly made pizza, is the pizza for you and me!

The freshly made pizza, is the pizza, yeah, for you and me..."

Germany's walking was becoming mildly slowed and his shoulders slumped as he moved. His expression was one of tiredness as he spoke to the tune of the song, "And my feet are killing me...WHOA-!"

The 'whoa' was uttered from shock as Germany's foot roughly collided with something on the sandy ground. He hadn't expected this and he shakily and in an embarrassing manner fell face first over whatever it was and landed inches away on said face. Lying there for several seconds before lifting himself up and glaring at the offending object that dared to trip him.

Turns out that the object was Italy himself. The Italian lied on his side near the street, the pizza box next to him, and he wore a determined expression as he pressed an ear to the earth and rubbed the sand oh so carefully. Honestly, he kind of looked like an absolute idiot. Germany couldn't say he was surprised to see him do something like this, he knew from the past that he was painfully random and always had his head in the clouds.

Still, it was kind of embarrassing to trip over Italy, especially more so considering Italy had moved to the ground like a freaking ninja and was that easy to fall over. Ignoring the blush rushing to his cheeks, Germany pushed himself off of the ground and stood over the idiotic Italian and set his hands on his hips.

"Italy, what the hell are you doing?" Germany had shouted upon realizing he was...very into lying on the ground and massaging the hot sand. It kind of looked like some hundred-year-old ritual of sorts, but he dismissed that as impossible. Because this was only something a perfect definition of random, like Italy, could come up with.

Italy slowly massaged the sand again before answering. When he did answer, he did so not even meeting Germany's eyes. "Ve~ This is an old trick pioneers used to get other means of transportation." Yet again, his lightly-tanned hand carefully and gracefully brushed the earth. He then gazed up at Germany at long last, smiling. "America told me about this tactic a few days ago."

Italy truly believed that doing this idiotic action would bring them some transportation? Germany was not amused at all, he wore a blank and kind of annoyed expression as he mentioned, "This is no time for degrading yourself-"

"Shuush! Germany, it's working!"

"What...?"

The motor of a truck could then be heard from the distance. Germany stared in disbelief, rooted to the ground as he realized it was heading right in their direction from the opposite side as if summoned by that idiot pioneer act. It was a big truck, looking as if it would have enough room for the both of them and the pizza.

Italy was nothing short of excited about the pioneer act paying off. He made a sound of happiness as he jumped from the ground, grabbed the pizza, and ran up to Germany and happily wrapped an arm around his shoulders knowing that he was too affected with shock to care he was being touched like that.

"Truck~! Sixteen wheels!" Indeed, the truck was coming closer into view. It was HUGE and had sixteen wheels because it looked like one of those ones either for towing, sending military off somewhere, or sending food-related items to stores. Italy's pioneer actions really did work...!

And since they did, Italy grinned and shoved the pizza into Germany's hands. "Now I get to show you how the pioneers hitchhike!"

"But, Italy, I don't think that's such a good idea...and the truck...and the pioneer..."

"Hahaha~ Just trust me, America told me I have the hitchhike style perfected to a T!"

"Ugh, that's what worries me..."

"We'll have a ride in no time! Now, get ready for an epic performance!"

Italy then leaped over to the road, standing in it, and he seemed to grasp something from behind. What he pulled out from his back pocket of hammerspace was...a black ten-gallon hat. And yes, this makes so much more sense in context. Although, anyone there in the situation would have every right to be baffled oh so much. But, Italy actually had the faith this would work out well and give them a ride to England's house.

The grinning Italian put the ten-gallon hat on his head and then prepared to...do some crazy shit. Well, it is freaking hard to explain without a images given. But, for the gist of it, Italy began to chant gibberish very loudly and he expertly hopped around on the road on one leg while holding his arms in the air. He then took turns hopping on each of of his legs as the tune of gibberish he chanted grew freakier. After a few moments while the incoming truck of hope leisurely cruised down the road, his gibberish was still ranking number one on the scale of freaky-ness and he then stood with his legs spread a few inches apart and waved his arms back and forth really low like that of violent waves.

Normally, at least I hope normally, someone would be embarrassed to death to have to do something like this. Seriously, it looked so freaky, like he had just gotten totally high. But Italy wasn't. At. All. If anything, he was having FUN. Well, he DID learn this from America...so he's not the only one to have performed this craziness. Which means America has done this too. ...Mental images incoming, 3...2...1...

Meanwhile, as Italy's pioneer actions continued on the road, Germany had sat down on a random really big rock and was sitting there with a poker face whilst tapping a spoon he found against his hand and making an obnoxious beat. Oh, and the pizza? The pizza lied on the ground near him. Germany had once been mentally disturbed by Italy's actions, looking behind his shoulder and around the area in a paranoid manner to ensure absolutely no one was watching.

And then he realized that his friend was always doing things like this, even without being influenced by America, so it really shouldn't be that humiliating to have to be here in the scene and forever have the mental image of him doing that in his head. Germany decided to go with the flow, not care about their cool as they were lost within the middle of nowhere itself anyway. Which lead to him sitting here tapping a spoon.

Back on the road, Italy was lying down on his face...doing the worm. Yeah, now there was no longer any context at all. He just made this look highly disturbing. Germany had thrown the spoon away meanwhile and walked closer, suddenly really into the moment upon noticing that the truck was indeed coming closer to their rescue.

Meanwhile, the truck was being driven by some dude of Egyptian descent. He looked like he was in his late twenties to thirty, and had wavy brunette hair, blue eyes, a dark skin tone, and wore casual clothes. Because see, even though he's a random dude, it should be noted he's a bit of a cultural rebel. This guy had his arm hanging out the open window whilst one hand was on the wheel, he was finally approaching what appeared to be an object in the road...

WAIT! That's a person!

The random dude's eyes widened and he leaned forward, gawking out of the windshield to see some Italian Idiot (A/N: ...LMAO. *To the tune of American Idiot* Don't wanna be an Italian idiot~ Don't want a nation under their waving blank flags~ And can you hear the sound of hysterical soldiers in full retreat- *The author gets a piano shoved off a building and onto her*) acting ridiculous! This guy was redheaded, dressed nicely excluding the stupid hat, and seemingly humping the road beneath.

"CRASHING, FLASHING BREAKDANCER!" The random dude hollered in his native tongue. Before honking his horn frantically to get the Italian's attention. (A/N *Magically revived* Yeah, see, I don't know Egyptian and I'm lazy, so here's his translation.)

Seeing that the truck was coming faster and closer, plus the horn was blasting like mad, Germany's eyes widened with delight as he added all of this up into one major conclusion. If one were to tilt their head, they may even see a rather endearing expression full of hope. The one that warms the coldest heart. Of course, no one noticed this though so his cool was protected. However, Germany misunderstood the actions of the random dude.

He THOUGHT that the dude was going to let them ride his truck all the way to England even if that kind of didn't seem logical. Well, things that murder all traces of logic happen all the time around here. So any thoughts otherwise would truly be irrelevant. Germany was quite ready to hitch a ride and say goodbye to the middle of nowhere through the rear view window.

"Keep stomping Italy, keep stomping!" Germany called out for Italy, whom continued to act like a quote pioneer and stood up from humping the ground – ahem, doing the worm – and began stomping around like a psycho. "You're actually helping! I think that person is feeling sorry for us now-"

Germany's words faltered as he turned and fully noticed the situation. He shifted around, look of delight shattering to one of absolute fear as he realized that the big-ass truck was...coming right for Italy as if to run him over! The dude driving looked horrified himself, too stunned to be able to hit the breaks fast enough! And Italy was being stupid and wouldn't take notice! Holy crap!

The next passing seconds were all a very panic-stricken, action-packed amount of seconds. They passed much too fast. Germany didn't know what came over him, he just knew that he HAD to do something before his companion was killed! Just as he had done a many times before back in life or death battles, just like old times, he took off running into Italy's direction and tackled him to the other side of the road, they fell roughly into the collision just as the big-ass truck zoomed by.

The only casualty was Italy's ten-gallon hat, THANK GOD. When the dust cleared away, Germany and Italy could be seen sitting on the other side of the road still in one piece, but totally covered in sand so they looked like sand castles.

When his forcefully-thumping heart calmed a little, when the shock faded away, Germany's eyes visible through the sand, shifted to Italy beside him and narrowed to a glare. Italy, during this time, realized he had just been rescued and he was smiling fondly as if the previous situation wasn't as bad as it was.

Germany really needed to be reminded why charging into hell to rescue Italy was like natural instinct...

~.~.~.~.~.

After the...incident...Italy and Germany continued their journey with the pizza after collecting it. If you're concerned: the pizza only had some sand atop the box. But it was still warm and fresh. Just before they continued walking aimlessly following the road, Italy couldn't help but pull his friend aside and smile as if he suspected something, asking him why he was so panicked earlier and seemed desperate to save him – also, he did kind of hold him in his arms after hitting the ground and wouldn't let go even when they were buried under sand.

Feeling rather tsundere, Germany had stared with surprise at that announcement and the suspecting tone he used. He had then glared and glanced away, saying that it was just a habit after all this time. They walked away after this, Italy for once taking the hint to not dwell on the topic, he didn't see Germany keep his gaze settled on the ground as he blushed vividly.

The desert winds began to pick up roughly as they continued their way through the random desert. They howled in the distance, the sand blew around and made it a little hard to see the correct directions, Germany marched right through it like it was nothing, and Italy was slightly getting lifted off of the ground as he walked but yet he tried to march whilst singing that song again.

"The freshly-made pizza, is the pizza yeah, for you and me!" Germany was alongside Italy marching and glaring, the wind kept making his dark blue tie smack into his face in the process. While Italy sang in a struggled manner, he battled with keeping his goddamn tie in place.

"The freshly-made pizza, is the pizza, very ta-asty...WOO!" The...'woo' part was a cry that Italy made as the vicious winds began to push him backward as the balls of his feet struggled to be planted and keep him in place. Germany ignored that, finally triumphing his tie by having shoved it underneath his shirt like a boss.

By the way, if you're concerned: Italy still held that pizza protectively despite being blown around weakly. He was not about to let such a piece of history in the making fail to be delivered to the certain destination. The pizza remained hot and delicious in the protection of the box, that was a good thing. Really, it was. Germany may not believe it was good, but it really was.

Ignoring Italy being swept off his feet and being pulled around the scene haphazardly, Germany's feet pounded the sand and he pushed right through the very vicious breezes; all while wearing a very determined and stoic expression. Honestly, that was quite badass. Truly an epic to remember. As for the Italian being shoved around and being lifted off his feet...God...could someone shove a hundred-pound barbell on his shoulders?

This continued for several minutes.

Several long minutes.

At last, Germany could no longer handle it. He was at first torn between owning this sand storm alone or helping out his only companion on this trippy journey. He kept his eyes downward, not bothering to look in Italy's direction to know that he was having a tough time staying on land. What were some pros and cons about him? Well, pros would be that he cooks like a boss, he's always lighting up the atmosphere, he tries hard when the situation matters to him although he couldn't be of any help in gore and bloodshed, and he was kind of cute.

But the cons were fighting for their victory; Italy seemed to lack common sense, he drove like a madman, he would probably throw himself in harm's way to have a pizza mind you, he sung in inappropriate times, he actually listened to America's advice of all people, he was determined for all of the wrong reasons, he could be too clingy, and he just drove him damn crazy almost every time they were in the same presence and breathing the same air! What was he supposed to do in this situation...!

Germany stopped in his tracks and called out Italy for protecting the pizza, yelling forcefully over the raging wind, "Will you let go of that stupid pizza already! It's not worth it!"

"Ve! I can't...! It's for the customer!" Italy replied, yelling as loud as his vocal cords would let him considering the howling wind seemed to increase. He continued being pushed both left and right and in circles around a scowling Germany. The pizza still held protectively.

"WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE CUSTOMER?"

"VE! I DO...!"

"WELL, I DON'T...!"

At that...blunt confession, the raging wind suddenly calmed and fell silent. The sand being thrown around paused, and so did Italy right in the middle of being pulled along and holding his arms outward with the pizza held tightly in his arms. The Italian's eyes winded with utter horror, and Germany just folded his arms and stared angrily – almost so pissed off he could tear his own hair out.

Before replying to that, Italy gasped with shock. His eyes closed again and his eyebrows knitted to complete his disapproving expression as he found the nerve to look at Germany. Everything was still in pause illogically. "G-Germany, how could you say that!" And the sand storm resumed, the wind and sand churning again and Italy getting blown around. Yeah. I don't know either.

"ITALY! LET GO OF THAT PIZZA!" Germany thundered again, forgetting the fact that Italy was scandalized by his disrespect of whatever asshole ordered the source of their misery. He glared daggers at the Italian continuing to be swept away and being carried around by the wind as if he was weightless.

"NEVER!" The wind just happened to tilt back to Germany's direction, causing Italy to tackle into him from behind with enough force to send him falling forward in a crumpled heap from impact.

Germany was too stunned from the tackle to be able to react immediately. He lied face down into the sand while Italy continued to proclaim cries - "I WILL NOT LET GO OF THIS PIZZA!" - and be carried away once again haphazardly at logic-defying speeds.

Once able to recover from the impact, Germany lifted his head at just the right time for Italy to come flying and accidentally kick his forehead. God, who knew he was wearing steel toe boots? Wait a second, then how was he being blown around? Ugh. Forgetting that, Germany's determination to make him stop caring for the stupid pizza caused him to forget his pain and he soon jumped to his feet and tightly grasped Italy's legs when he came flying around again.

...Yeah, the moment was almost as awkward as when Italy was acting like a pioneer. Well, it kind of depends. If only there were other witnesses to all of this, then there would have been so many laughs the world would have shaken. Anyway, Germany planted his feet into the ground and tried to act as breaks, but due to having his arms tightly clasped on Italy's flailing legs (and trying to not notice that if he glanced a certain way he had a clear view of his ass), he too was being pulled around by the weight of of the strong winds that slowed momentarily only to uproar once again. Italy still held the pizza box with both hands, even though it was probably the source of him being lifted off the ground.

For several seconds, near a full minute, Germany and Italy hovered over the desert grounds with the former screaming to let go of the pizza, while the latter was loudly refusing.

Eventually, the storm grew majorly bad. Like...record-breaking bad. End of the world style, that's what we're talking about. Except it wasn't the end, it just seemed like it in that moment. Anyway, the roaring winds pounded the eardrums of anyone within distance of it, the sand whipped around off the ground and took on a swirling, violent tornado-like object in the sky, the wind was thick enough to possibly peel skin off (ew). Germany and Italy failed to notice they were both entirely off the ground and were hovering way above it in the air and being tossed towards the spiraling tornado-like natural disaster. Italy was too busy screaming about not wanting to disappoint a customer, Germany had shut up the first time his gaze had accidentally settled on his freaking out companion's ass and remaining there studying how well-shaped it-

-And that was when Germany removed one hand back to his bright red face and slapped it before shifting his attention back to the ground.

Except...wow...the ground was rather far away...it almost looked, from that angle, like they were way high in the-! At realizing this, Germany's expression basically said 'oh crap', and he gazed up high to witness themselves go headfirst into the giant and spiraling tornado-like object.

"Don't let go of the pizza!" Was Germany's last words before they both were sucked into the darkness of the tornado-like object...kind of conflicting, isn't it?

When it seemed like the heroes...or companions...in-denial-lovers...or whatever title they carried were swallowed whole and were at the end of the rope. The last time they would ever see each other or earth. When it seemed that this was the end of it all...

The tornado-like object obviously disliked the taste of them. It inexplicably jerked about with disgust and spat them both out, before disappearing into thin air with the entire storm settling in the process. Kind of anti-climatic. Eh. But either way, the sun once again peaked out through the dark clouds and Germany and Italy screamed as they were falling rapidly about to meet the earth quite painfully, it should be noted that the former wasn't thinking clearly for a second and had made an attempt to grasp the latter's shoulders and hang on, but just as his fingers touched his shirt, he came to his senses and backed off – awaiting his most painful moment of this entire journey. And even though Italy was the one wearing steel toe boots, Germany was falling much faster.

Luckily for Italy, he was falling feet first and still held the pizza box with both hands and for some random reason – the pizza popped out of the box forcefully and took shape of a parachute, so he safely glided back to the desert ground wearing a big smile as he recalled Germany shouting at him to not release hold on the pizza: he must have seen this coming and wanted him to land safely...ah...what a caring person~

As opposed to Italy, Germany landed a little painfully on his face (thank God he was a personification, otherwise that fall would have probably killed him), he felt completely limp for a few moments. But he felt only the slightest pain, a good thing. When he recovered from the shock of the action, he gazed around at the sight of the desert and...NO ROAD! That made him stare and gape, horrified.

"W-w-where's the road?" Germany babbled, crawling forward, no longer seeing the road that had been there before. It must have been buried under all of the sand! "The road's gone! It's gone! Oh my God, we won't be able to determine which direction to take! We're lost!"

Italy was still utterly oblivious to the seriousness of the road no longer being visible. He merely floated peacefully all the way back to the ground on his feet. The pizza even folded back it's original shape and returned back into the box. And when Italy took notice of his surroundings, he could see Germany in a panic-stricken way run around and...well...panic at the fact the road was gone. He kind of reminded Italy of someone else he knew, but he couldn't label anyone right now because he was being the observant one for a change and looking around for a way out of this. His roaming amber eyes finally settled on a stick...yeah...some random stick.

"Ve~ The direction out is this way." Italy stated in a point blank manner, smiling and gesturing to the west direction, which was the exact same way the stick pointed.

Germany actually stopped his freaking out and despair. He recovered immediately and rolled his eyes before walking over and confronting Italy. "Oh, don't tell me, Jethro...America and his pioneer talk?"

"That's right. America tells me that a stick with a pointed end always leads to the right direction. Whenever people lost their compasses during the movement towards the West, they used this." Italy recalled proudly, still smiling as he gestured to the stick. At least...he thought he said it was their compasses. It could have been their saddlebags, but close enough!

At this, Germany's eye twitched. "That way? The west?" Italy didn't seem to notice his lack of joy over the fact he found the correct direction. He didn't seem to notice he was being labeled a complete idiot either...the whole 'Jethro' thing and all. "You think that we should...go that way?"

"Correct~!"

"Humph. I see." Germany promptly whirled around and began to walk towards the east direction. "Okay, then I am going this way."

"What? B-but, Germany! I-I-I don't think that's a good idea!"

Trust me, Italy, I know my way around. Who else lead troops during confusing locations during major battles?"

Germany was sure that he was going in the right direction. He took the east direction, Italy was doubtful of his sense of direction because he knew that his theory was right. But, he didn't want to leave Germany alone in the desert, so he picked up a pathetic pace and followed after with the pizza.

It's too bad the stubborn German did not follow the pioneer-styled directions, because Italy's theory WAS correct – proven by the fact that looking out towards the west angle, one could see civilization. The fools.

~.~.~.~.~.

Now walking in the complete opposite and wrong direction, only going deeper into the desert and possibly the way they came, Germany and Italy were at the same pace and still had the stupid pizza in their possession. The walk would have been fine, if Italy hadn't found that same musical and lively tune in his head and smiled like a retard as he began to belt out more of the pizza song in varying ways.

"The freshly-made pizza, is the pizza yeah, for you and me!" Italy sang with a cheerful and endearing tone, Germany was at his side glaring and making an attempt to battle away concern and pick up his pace.

"The freshly-made pizza, pfft pfft, pizza, fo yo and me-ee!" In seconds, Italy was wearing a red cap turned backwards and wore shiny bling as he belted out the lyrics in a rap beat. Germany didn't once look at him, he kept his gaze ahead.

"The fresh pizza, jjjdg, pizza, jjjjdg...!" Now Italy was no longer dressed like a hipster, but he was walking backwards and shaking his ass to the...something beat. Now, Germany was staring at him with an expression that basically said; 'What the hell are you high on'?

"THE FREA-EEEEEEAAAAAA-EEEEEEAAAAAAASHLY MADE PIZZA! IS THE PIZZA YEEEE-EAH! FO YOU AND..." And to top things off, Italy began belting out the lyrics sounding like a black male church singer. This caused Germany to once again stare out at the desert wishing his companion would shut up. And, before Italy could finish the song, he randomly dropped his head forward onto the box as he walked. And it wasn't long before... "...MEEEEEEEEE~!" At that last, part, Italy raised his head and belted out that part with a shrill voice that could rival that of Micheal Jackson. This caused Germany to cringe and then near face plant again.

~.~.~.~.~.

Several minutes later, the unbearable heat and walking distance became too much to bear. It was agonizing. It was horrible. It was so dramatic. Both Germany and Italy were exhausted, ready to fall over dead as they weakly trudged through the mocking sand and lightly-howling winds in the distance, not to mention those pyramids which it seems like they passed about ten times now. Germany's eyes were bloodshot, he looked pale and stumbled along, Italy was no longer smiling his face was flushed from the heat and energy he used up singing and he looked like he could pass out, yet he continued to moan weakly the lyrics to the song.

"The...freshly...made...pizza, it is the pizza, yeah, for...youandme..."

At long last, both Germany and Italy collapsed forward into the desert, at the same time mind you. No one was stronger than the other in this moment. But the first to raise their head and come to their senses first was Germany, whom looked at the pizza lying in front of Italy and then Italy himself.

Now that he thought about it, he wasn't in any position to say that he regretted having Italy there with him. He may be annoying he may not have common sense, but it would be better dying from the heat and dehydration with someone he may or may not care about at his side. He panted softly, weakly reaching out to the Italian and patting his shoulder in a way of signaling he was still there with him.

"Feliciano..." Wait, did Germany just use that name? Germany paused momentarily, eyes widening with shock at himself. But he soon got over it, knowing he shouldn't be self-conscious in the face of death looming over. He continued to try in vain to lift Italy up. "Feliciano, we...we have to...eat something to get strength back..."

After several seconds, Italy gradually lifted his head and looked over at Germany, trying to find a way to breathe again. Before he reached out for a random split cactus nearby and offered it served some of the flesh from it to Germany in his palms. "America...once told me...that the pioneers would eat the flesh from a cactus when food supplies was low..."

Germany did not question that logic. Not this time. He was so blinded by the fact there was something edible in this desert of hell that he eagerly grasped Italy's wrists and pulled them close, he was prompt in stuffing all of the edible flesh into his mouth like a madman.

During this time, Italy wore a questioning expression as he gazed around randomly. "No...maybe it wasn't cactus..."

At that revelation, Germany lost all color in his face and appeared horrified. He soon threw himself to away from Italy and began to, well, yeah, throw up all of the cactus flesh. Why was there an already-served cactus out here anyway?

"Maybe they turned into cannibals and ate themselves...ve...no...maybe it was mud...or leaves..."

Once finished pretty much throwing up all that he had recently eaten, Germany shoved himself off the ground and turned to Italy on his hands and knees, glaring with ultimate rage. "Give me the pizza!"

Italy gasped and pressed the pizza close to his chest once he sat up on the ground. "WAIT! I remember now that it WAS cactus flesh!"

The two stood up to their feet with new-found energy, though Germany really shouldn't have considering what just happened to him. He loomed over Italy, a very cold and evil aura radiated off his body as he once again shouted, "Give me the pizza, Feliciano!"

Italy was scared, but he stood his ground for once and protectively held the pizza box against his chest. "I can't! Ve! You know very well it's for the customer!"

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, Germany's aura faded and he now appeared calm and slightly smiling as he leaned in to Italy's face. He spoke in a calm, composed tone, "You're right. This pizza belongs to one of our customers. I shouldn't want to eat it since there's no source of food left."

Italy was still on guard, his brows knitted and he stared with uneasiness at Germany. "Ve...yes..."

"Well, maybe we better check on it," Germany paused as he winked suggestively. "Make sure that it's still...good looking."

His guard lowering, Italy's appeared conflicted as he gazed down at the pizza in his arms. "Well...I..."
"Just a little peek." Germany got Italy to lower his arms and hold out the box, this was when he carefully lifted it and got a flash of the pizza before Italy gasped and closed it back.

"VE! OKAY, THE PIZZA'S FINE!"

"Gasp! No! I thought I saw something!"

Although Italy was still looking concerned, protecting the pizza as if it was still a chaste and delicate young woman, he allowed Germany to lift the box completely and give them both a shameless glimpse of the hand-made pizza in all it's glory.

The pizza was so...enticing. Sexy. Almost too good to be true. The sunlight reflected off and made it seemingly sparkle. It was just a regular, homemade pizza with the typical fixings, but something about it made it too delicious-looking...

this felt so wrong. It felt really perverted too. But Germany and Italy gazed mindlessly at the pizza, daring to grin at it with one thing on the mind: 'That pizza is mine'.

"Ah...no...I was wrong. It looks okay after all." Germany stated, self-consciously flicking away some drool quickly, before sighing and inhaling it's scent, just letting this image be burnt into his memory. "It sure is a good-looking pizza..."

"Ve~ It's so alluring..." Italy stated mindlessly, his eyes opened and looked hazy, and he smiled with captivation.

"...What's that?" Germany asked, still smiling like an idiot and gesturing to the layer of cheese on the surface. "Is that the first layer of cheese?"

"Veeeee~ Yes...that's the cheese...so sexy..."

"And, is that the fresh pepperoni?" Germany asked again, the corners of his lips now twitching to a rather devilish smile that implied he was up to something.

"Veeeeeee~"

"Oh, yes, doesn't it look good enough to devour right now...good-looking pizza doesn't come along that easily..."

Finally, after basically violating the pizza with their perverted and gawking eyes, Italy finally realized what was happening. Finally. He gasped with shock which made Germany take his gaze off the food and step back with new-found guard.

"I know what you're trying to do, Germany!" Italy mustered a glare of disapproval and he promptly protected the pizza's innocence again by slamming the box closed and holding it back to his chest. "I am not letting you eat this pizza!"

Ten fold, Germany returned the glare. He clasped his hands to fists and advanced closer. "You better cough up that pizza, before I loose my sanity!"

"No!"

"Don't make me go into a killing mode, you little jackass!"

"GET AWAY!"

And, Italy was off running in a random direction still holding the pizza. He was going at top speed like he usually did when in full retreat. This pissed Germany off once again, it was a love/hate relationship mind you, he officially lost it and yelled whilst running after the freaked out Italian.

The two ended up running around in circles, actually. They were shouting nonsensical things the entire time which started to just sound like gibberish. Italy was nowhere near getting tired, he knew he had to protect this pizza from being eaten before arriving to the customer whom originally requested it. Germany managed to keep up for the most part and was admittedly looking too desperate for words.

They ran around for...about twelve minutes perhaps? Finally, Germany began to burn out from using up so much energy in this massive heat wave passing over. He staggered to remain on his feet, limping before finally stopping and bending over, taking deep and choking breathes. Italy still dashed around like an idiot, not realizing he had stopped.

"Feliciano...the pizza...wait..." Germany gasped out, resting his palms on his knees and still choking on his own breath. He could feel the sweet drip from his brow and his heart pump wildly.

"NO! NEVER!" Italy still yelled like a total moron in the background, before he finally smacked into Germany and fell backward to his back.

Aha! So he finally managed to get Italy to stop! Germany promptly turned around, no longer having trouble gasping for air. He loomed over a shivering Italy, his arms coming closer to him in a slow motion manner.

"I want that pizza, and you are going to give it to me ONE WAY or ANOTHER..." Germany said in an admittedly horrifying manner as he came closer and closer to Italy whom was looking around and trying to find an attempt to get away before he was a victim of some kind.

That's when something caught his eye. Italy gasped happily and then pointed to the right. "Look, Germany! We're SAVED~!"

Barely hearing what he had been told, Germany's arms folded and he sighed irritatedly. "Yes. We believe in God. NOW GIVE ME THE FUCKING PIZZA!"

"Really Germany! We're saved! We're saved!" Italy cheered, now setting the pizza on the ground and leaping up to his feet and then springing into the air and clapping.

Germany thought he was being ridiculous. Ahem, not that he was faring much better. His expression was once again blank and questioning as Italy began to get down on the ground and do pushups while proclaiming about how they were saved.

"We're saved, saved, saved!

Sa-saved! Sa-saved! Sa-sa-sa-aaa-ved!

Sa-sa-sa-saved! Sa-sa-sa-saved! Yeah, we are saved~!"

...That was what Italy sang while dancing around and making a conga beat. Mind you and your questioning expression.

Germany could do nothing else but stare, feeling like he wanted to perform a face-plant of sorts again. Because a facepalm just wouldn't do this moment justice. That could be some sort of meme if you think about it. But, ahem, let's not elaborate on that. Anyway, the German could not believe that- well actually he could somehow believe Italy would do all of this randomly. At least Egypt wasn't here, he'd have some interesting explaining to do for him.

At long last, Italy stopped singing and he grasped the pizza, taking off happily towards a nearby really large rock. Germany gazed at the rock, which towered above them both and was shaped nicely. At seeing how THIS was what Italy was excited about, his eye twitched manically and he made a sound of disgust.

"That's just a stupid BOULDER!" Germany called out, hoping to point out to Italy that...well...this was just a stupid boulder and there was no reason to get excited. Although, if you were to not be listening properly it almost sounded like he said that it's 'just a stupid boner'. Which...yeah...context is needed.

Italy gawked at the 'boulder' with wide and tearing eyes. He was so close to it, breathing it's intoxicating form in and smiling with awe at it's very existence. He looked as if he found the Promised Land.

"Ve~! It's not just a boulder...it's...it's a rock!" Italy sniffed as the tears poured down. He tilted forward, pressed himself against the rock, and let his emotions out. If you weren't listening, it kind of sounded like he said 'it's a cock'. ...I'm not gonna even...what is this... "A rock, Germany! A rock...!"

Germany was not taking part in the 'emotional' moment. He stared, with a totally blank expression. But he also silently wished that Italy would act all emotional over him since they hadn't been hanging around each other like this in a while. Damn rock.

Not caring that Germany more than likely thought he lost all of his sanity, Italy continued to tear up and proclaim his love for the beautiful rock and climb atop it. The Italian finally reached the top with the pizza in his lap. Once up there, he made an attempt to find words to describe the situation as he delicately brushed over the surface.

"Oh...America told me the pioneers would ride these babies for miles! And it's still in great shape, we can leave this place and deliver the pizza after all~!" Italy suddenly turned his attention to the sky, where the sun could be seen setting and darkness begin to arise upon them. "...And before nighttime too!"

'What the fuck?' This was basically what Germany's expression said. Okay, so the pioneers would act like psychos when hitchhiking, ate cactus flesh, and they rode cock- er, rocks like a vehicle? Had both Italy and America lost their freaking MINDS?

He hated Switzerland so much right now. He hated his car for not being able to handle intense driving. And even though he previously went made from both furious hunger and the heat wave, Germany detested everything about that pizza. Would he have been in this situation if it wasn't for the three of them? Oh, you can bet that he wouldn't!

At long last, Germany gathered fitting words to use in this crazy moment was shamed to be a part of. He remained where he stood and glared daggers at Italy and the rock.

"Feliciano! Will you forget about the pioneers! Haven't you taken a look around to see that there are NONE of them left? And you do you KNOW why there are none of them left?" Germany shouted, he wasn't finished there. He raised his voice again and started making wild gestures kind of like Italy probably would as he lectured him intensely right now. "I will tell you why there's none of them left! Because they are LOUSY hitchhikers, they eat CACTUS, and supposedly DRIVE rocks! America is just being stupid, and so are you if you think that all of this was accurate detailing! And you know what else? I don't think ANY of that crap is accurate! Because for God's sake, WHAT MADE PIONNERS THINK THEY COULD DRIVE-"

Effectively making Germany freeze mid-sentence and stare in sheer disbelief, the rock suddenly made the sound of someone revving an engine when Italy made a 'putting the key into the ignition' movement in the air. And to top everything off, defying all that was logic, owning Germany, proving America right, stunning the author of this tale, the rock began to MOVE and drive really fast through the desert. It's bulky body merely moved among the ground, and Italy was holding his arms out as if he was using a steering wheel.

"-Rocks..." Germany weakly finished that, appearing to be utterly stunned as he watched Italy drive away with much skill and leave him almost in the dust. Although he was even more confused, and defeated, he weighed his options fast and then sighed before bolting off after him yelling, "HOLD ON THERE, JETHRO!"

~.~.~.~.~.

Knowing that he couldn't leave a good friend like Germany behind, despite him acting like a maniac over the course of this pizza-delivering journey, he had turned back when he heard his desperate voice shouting out to him. And had merely smiled fondly and lent a hand for him, so they then took off into the night together with a pizza as their company.

During the ride, Germany began to question the mere theory of logic and what was normal – with what was freaky and not likely. But as he looked over at Italy driving the rock with skill and smiling and laughing as the wind whipped their faces and hair violently...well...maybe he was looking a bit too deeply into this. Maybe he could tell logic to get out of his head for this one time. Because at that moment, he had his arms clasped around Italy hoping to not fall off the moveable rock, was crossing through at least two time zones with him so close – meaning they were technically in an embrace for HOURS – and they had only the glimmering stars and nighttime scenery to keep them company. For some reason, this horrible day wasn't so bad now. Right now, he wouldn't care if logic kicked in again and instead of driving over water, they drowned. Actually, he could get used to these kind of moments.

It...really...made no sense how the boulder managed to cross over thick currents of water without sinking. Unless Italy's faith managed to cause the rock to be overcome with Jesus' presence, okay, NOW it makes sense. Anyway, Italy drove the rock through the rest of Africa, passed by America, passed Canada, and over the water, before entering back into European territory again and at long last reaching England.

When they entered England, it was probably the next day or something like that. Hey, Italy didn't know. He gently nudged a sleeping Germany's shoulder, and once he awoke he mentioned that they were finally at their destination and he was so excited about it.

His fuzzy vision clearing, Germany noticed that they were parked in England's yard. Or at least in front of his house. He released his tight grasp on Italy whom stood up with the pizza in hand and was trembling with thrill.

"Ve~! I can't wait to see the happy expression on our customer's face~!" Italy cheered, Germany merely glared at him for being so full of energy after having crossed many time zones and not getting much rest in between. They previously were starving and dying in a desert, with special mention. "Germany, you look tired. So you can sit here on the rock while I deliver it."

Germany was not hesitant to take that offer.

And so, Italy gleefully bounded off the rock and nearly danced all the way to England's front door. He was so excited that it seemed nothing could ever rain on his parade...at least...until he rapped on the door.

After a few moments of pleasant suspense, England showed up and opened the door. He was wearing a robe and not much else, his eyes were bloodshot, and Italy could have sworn he had been drinking. When he shifted his gaze around the nation he could see the house was a wreck.

England himself took notice of the entire scene. He glanced around awkwardly before clearing his throat and mentioning, "It's a very long story..." And it was apparent that he had no intention of describing what happened before their arrival. It didn't even seem that he noticed Germany chilling on the unusual rock on his perfect lawn.

Italy mere smiled, not questioning England at all. Although his theory was that the story he mentioned consisted of either partying with booze and people in typical carefree fashion, or he had invited a love interest over and they drank and went to the bedroom – wonder who this possible love interest was.

"Well...congratulations, sir!" Italy proclaimed, suddenly no longer paying attention to England and the questionable scene he was playing a part of. He held the pizza close and his eyes opened and shined with pride that he delivered it. "Your pizza is here! Me and Germany worked real hard to deliver it, I hope you love it!"

England too ignored the previous awkward moment. He remembered that he had gotten one of his people whom was in on his nation status to place an order. He remembered doing so because he heard that Germany, Italy, and Switzerland were pretty much forced to work together and crafted a beloved restaurant. The reason he wanted a pizza was probably due to the fact he had been chatting with America and Canada over Facebook, they mentioned they were playing video games together and eating a pizza. When they described how good the pizza was, he began to crave one. But what happened after that is...too much of a long story.

"Ah, yes, I really wanted one of these!" England's eyes seemingly sparkled as he accepted the delivery, Italy anxiously fidgeted, awaiting for some praise. But then, something went wrong. England was silent and appearing disappointed as he stared. "But...where's my drink?"

Italy's smile faded. "What drink?"

"My drink!" England shouted, taking a step forward and making Italy gasp and cover. "Don't tell me you forgot my fucking drink! I specifically ordered it, and how the bloody hell do you expect me to consume such a thing without a fucking drink on the side? Are you trying to enrage your own customers?"

While England was being a total jerk, he didn't notice that Italy's spirits had instantly gotten crushed. He was standing there confused, scared, and saddened by the turn of events. His eyes were overflowing with tears and his speech became gibberish as he struggled to flip through the order on a notepad and explain he never ordered a beverage.

"Didn't you sorry workers ever take a moment to think of the CUSTOMER? You dare call yourself a DELIVERYMAN? Well, if that's the case," Now REALLY making himself seem like a jerk, England rejected the pizza and threw it back into Italy's hands. He stepped back in and grasped the doorknob. "I AM NOT BUYING THAT SHIT!" And the door was promptly slammed shut.

Germany, meanwhile had been watching the entire seen. His eyes were wide and he had actually flinched from the intensity of the door slam. He could almost barely believe that England could be such a bastard and reject a pizza had BY HAND and with so much CARE. Clearly, he should take a chill pill.

Italy was still so miserable from being rejected. He really thought that the customer would love the pizza. He thought he was doing such a good thing. But now that he was told off like that, with a door slam to top that off...the tears burned as they all poured down. He shuddered and turned around, walking over to Germany and plastering a twitchy and wavering smile to try and save face.

But Germany wasn't stupid. He could see the tears, hear the sobs trying to be hidden in vain, and it was obvious that smile was not true. He wore a look of sympathy as he climbed down and met him halfway.

"Feliciano..." Italy merely continued to try and save face, trembling and offering him the pizza since he was so crazy about eating it earlier. Plus, it was useless to even bother spreading love anymore. "Feli...it's...it's okay. You don't have to take it so hard." The tears continued to fall one after the other and the smile was beginning to lose whatever remained of it's disguise. "Feliciano?"

At long last, Italy dropped the pizza and he fell to his knees releasing all of the sobs and pressing his palms to his tearing eyes. He miserably wept for the turn of events, which he honestly thought would bring joy instead of so much senseless rage. All he had wanted was some peace.

Even Germany would have probably shed a rebel tear if he continued to watch that scene. He tried to remain stoic, but it was just so hard. His sorrow was much too overpowering. And it was at that moment when Germany realized recalled a point in time after a lot of chaos had settled between everyone, when he was trying to mend their relationship back, he and Italy had gone out for some coffee and while there, he asked him why he always refused to resort to violence and why he retreated so much. Italy could only sigh and explain he didn't like hate, chaos, and things like that. But he probably would have been of more help if he wasn't so...peacemaker-ish.

...Finally, Germany grimaced and gazed up at England's house. He suddenly found a surge of hate of his own, and was more than willing to unleash it on a certain jerk in a robe. He stepped around a still-crying and miserable Italy and gathered the pizza. He stomped over to the front door with it tucked under one arm. And once over, he violently rapped on the door as loud as he could manage.

After a few moments, England opened the door again and grimaced too when he noticed Germany was holding out the same pizza. He folded his arms over his slightly-exposed chest and didn't once back down. "Another attempt at delivery? Look, Germany, I told that wanker I'm not paying for that shit!"

"Fine, because this one's on the house!" Seconds later, England was attacked with pizza when Germany hurled it at him with a enough force to knock him off his feet. And then, to top things off, he grasped hold of the door and slammed it too in the Englishman's face.

Italy hadn't exactly seen England get what was coming to him, he had been too busy trying to stop crying and just stand up and shake this all off. He turned around and sat on his knees as soon as Germany walked away from the door with a satisfied smirk and wiping off his hands.

Raising his head, revealing his tear-stained face, Italy asked pathetically, "Did he change his mind...?"

"He sure did, Feliciano. He ate the whole thing in one bite." Germany stated, halfway telling the truth at least. He thought at first Italy should know he stood up for him, that he really did care. But, seeing as though Italy's tears were no longer visible and he looked relieved, he thought this could be his own little secret.

Immediately, Italy gasped and leaped to his feet, a true smile now on his face. "He didn't need the drink? You convinced him, Ludwig?"

...Did he really just use that name? Germany shifted his gaze to his feet, blushing and quickly saying, "He didn't need the drink." Just as quickly, he changed the subject. "Ahem, anyway, take me home now."

Somehow, he thought that Italy had a sneaky suspicion there was more to the story than what he was being told. Nevertheless, a face-splitting grin appeared on his face as he and Germany climbed back onto the rock and prepared to leave.

Instead of heading home, Italy had other ideas as he 'put the key in' and 'hit the gas pedal'...

"Are you kidding, Ludwig?" Putting his hands on the 'wheel', Italy turned to look at Germany whom was looking confused as he clasped his arms around him again. He winked at him. "Ve~! We have just enough time to get back to work~!"

At the speed of light, the rock traveled across Europe. Germany was stunned by the impossible speeds, remembering the previous fiasco with his car. Italy was laughing and shouting comments of joy from feeling them breaking the atmosphere pretty much.

In almost no time flat, they were back parked in front of the restaurant. There, Switzerland was standing at the doors greeted customers and Germany's car was back where it had been parked originally. Germany stared with widened eyes, Italy hardly reacted other than grinning and preparing to leap off the rock and go cook up more food.

Germany remained frozen in horror, managing to comment, "Work...? Oh, my aching feet..."

Everything faded to black and it was heavily implied that everyone lived happily ever after.

The End~

~.~.~.~.~.

Yeah, so this was heavily entertaining to write. I think it's another parody to smile about, even though I deeply question my sanity more than ever. XD

Just so you know: I intended to have moments of GerIta UST. You can take all of this as friendship, or one-sided romance, whatever you want. I wasted no time in giving Switzerland the role of Mr. Krabs, I was literally thrilled to give him the role. England was a jerk because he's England. And I know that real pioneers probably didn't do any of the things mentioned – but I could picture that happening in the Hetalia universe. And, to wrap up this babble, my MP3 player blasted the song I'll Be There by Faber Drive during certain parts of this story when I was writing it and I noticed it was so fitting – seriously, try listening to that while reading the part where Germany and Italy and at the end; it's too fitting.

Please excuse my author's notes throughout certain moments of the story. I've got strong Italian heritage, so I wasn't insulting anyone. I'm also American. American Idiot is ironically one of my favorite songs. ^|||^

I think, for my next parody, I will use the episode Graveyard shift with America and England. It was suggested by a reviewer, and I personally love the idea. I hope you will check that out too, WHENEVER I get it written out!

Anyway, thank you for reading this story. Read and review, and have a nice day~

-MidnightSakuraBlossom