Hetaverse. GerIta. Oneshot.
This was inspired by the final act of "Our Town".
Feliciano leaned back against the German's broad chest, gazing up into the star-studded night sky. Meanwhile, a hesitant hand found its way to his head, thick fingers combing through auburn locks. He hummed contentedly, a smile on his lips.
"Hey, Germany, have you ever wanted to be human?"
Glacial eyes, softened with affection, met his with sharp questioning. "Not particularly, why?"
"Look! A shooting star!" The delicately tapered digit traced the glittering path across the heavens. "Isn't it beautiful?"
There was a low sigh and then, "Italy, we've seen hundreds of shooting stars, maybe even thousands. I agree that they are beautiful, but what does one small comet mean when we live in an eternity of shooting stars?"
"See?" The response was almost whispered. Hand dropping onto his stomach, Feliciano looked up at the blond. "Sometimes I wish I were a human."
"How is that relevant to our current conversation?" Ludwig demanded suddenly, lips tugged into a half-hearted frown.
"How long have we lived, Germany?" It was an honest question, carrying the same tone as one about why nations went to war or why the refrigerator was crammed full of beer and wurst but lacked the barest ingredients for pasta sauce. "How many decades? Centuries even. I guess that humans are so tiny, so quick, that I'm almost a little jealous."
"But why?" Though he'd never admit it, the German had always feared the fragile mortality of human beings. He didn't understand how they could bear to live feeling themselves aging so rapidly and hurtling to their deaths.
"Germany, what do days mean to you?"
"What do you mean?"
Twining their fingers together, Feliciano drew the other's arms closer around him. "For humans, every day has to be special because they see so few. Their days are like our years. And aren't they lucky, Germany? They live so quickly that every shooting star is something special."
The blond pressed a shy kiss to the Italian's head, nose buried in his sweet-smelling locks as he searched vainly for an answer he knew didn't exist.
"But would you really rather live such a short life?"
"Sometimes," he murmured. "If I were a human, I would spend my whole life with Germany and even the tiniest minutes would mean more than all of these decades of wars and alliances and hatred."
"Would they?"
"Yes, infinitely more." The brunet hummed, "But y'know, I don't think humans always understand how wonderful their lives are. They're always rushing, hustling through their days and weeks without stopping to savor everything… like they forget how little time they've really got."
Ludwig considered this for a long time, wading slowly through the silence and deep thoughts. Finally, a weary smile crept across his face. "You're quite philosophical tonight, aren't you?"
He grinned back almost sheepishly. "Am I?"
"Very."
A cautious kiss was shared, pressed lovingly from one warm set of lips to another.
"I'm sorry, it's just that…" The Italian sighed. "Sometimes, I mean… Doesn't Germany ever feel tired? It's been so long."
"Yes." And he did indeed look very old and tired in that moment, his youthful features revealing the countless sorrows and hardships born of conflict and war.
Feliciano leaned back and kissed the larger nation once more. "I'm sorry."
"You've done nothing wrong."
"Maybe." He placed a gentle hand against his lover's cheek. "Maybe not."
Looking once more to the heavens, blue eyes glimpsed a second small miracle, long dulled by ages of similar occurrences. For a heartbeat, Ludwig imagined that his days were numbered, that any day – perhaps even the next – could easily be his last. He imagined that he and the brunet resting against his chest were simple, fleeting beings whose lives would end quickly and pointlessly. Then, lifting his hand, he pointed to the sky.
"Look, Feliciano, a shooting star."