Written for my friend Jocelyn (ilikeoctopus on FFN).

Her prompt: America tells Italy to do something and Germany watches. (I could've written so much yaoi for this, but she would probably kill me. So, hope you like it!)

Pairing: None, except for slight Spamano if you squint.

Word Count: 1,060

Written in 1.5 hours with no beta. Yea, I'm a horrible person. :S

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Happy Birthday Italy!

The UN meeting room was buzzing with nations, fighting over any problems they could come up with (even if it wasn't theirs). France was barring his rape face and staring at England, whose attention was caught by America fishing a long box out of his briefcase. Spain was draped over Romano's shoulders, continuously poking him on the cheek and shouting merrily "¡Felicidades, Romano!" The annoyed country shoved him off and started yelling in both Italian and Spanish.

"Hey, Italy!" America called. He jogged over to the spacey country clinging onto Germany's sleeve. The superpower was carrying a box wrapped in colorful paper under his arm. "Today is March 17th, so this is for you! No need to thank the hero!"

He pushed the box into Italy's hands and flashed him a grin before returning to annoy England.

Italy pick up the card attached.

"Happy Birthday Italy! You should wear this for today.

Sincerely, everyone's favorite Hero, America"

"Ve~ Germany! Germany! Look! America got me a birthday present!" Italy released Germany's arm and skipped to the bathroom. Germany looked confused, but sighed in relief. Now he could finally pay attention to Switzerland's speech.

Italy has been gone for over an hour already. Only a few nations noticed he was missing. America was snickering to himself while England shot him an annoyed look. Romano was drumming his fingers loudly on the table, glaring at Germany from across the room. The blonde nation looked worried at his companion's absence.

Suddenly, Romano shot up and slammed his hands on the desk. "Oi, you potato-loving bastard! What the hell did you do to my brother? He's been missing for a long time!"

Germany flinched. "Nein! I didn't do anything. He wandered off by himself."

France showed a sudden interest. "So, you mean to tell me that Italie is alone?" He grinned and it was obvious he was already formulating a scheme to make Italy a French territory.

Germany, knowing France's motives, stood up and cleared his throat. "I'm going to look for him. Excuse me." He shot France a glare before exiting the room.

China sighed. "Well, now that that's over. AMERICA! WHERE'S MY MONEY, ARU~!"

America gave a weak smile and rubbed the back of his head. "Eh heh heh, about that China…"

Germany stormed down the hallways, his gaze shifting and searching for any sign of a brown hair curl or blue military uniform. His gait sped up every minute he didn't find it. He didn't want to admit it to the other countries, but he did worry for Italy a lot. 'That idiot could get it all kinds of trouble.'

He was about to pass by the men's bathroom when he heard a familiar "Ve," coming from inside. He put his hands on the handle of the door and was about to open it when he heard more sounds from the Italian.

"This looks weird. I guess it looked better when I was younger. I wonder what Germany will think. Will he like it?"

Germany's brow furrowed in confusion. What was Italy talking about?

This time, the door swung open and Germany saw the back of a billowing green dress. The person in said dress was prepping themselves in front of the mirror, checking themselves from every angle.

At first, Germany thought he went through the wrong door. He backed up and pushed the door out, checking the sign and reading all the different translations of the word "Men" posted on it. He slowly closed it behind him and went back inside.

He walked up to the figure and cleared his throat to get their attention. "Excuse me, miss. This is the men's room. If you could kindly—"

The person turned around and the first thing Germany noticed was the hair curl that bounced off to the side. His eyes then traveled to the person's face, back down to the dress, and he froze.

"Ve~ Germany! What are you doing here? Oh, I guess you do need to use the bathroom too!" Italy spoke rapidly. He then noticed that Germany wasn't breathing or moving. He followed the blonde nation's gaze to his clothing. The Italian began fiddling with the folds of the skirt. "What do you think, Germany? America gave it to me for my birthday! It looks like the one Hungary gave me when I was little, except it kind of looks strange now that I'm grown up. Do you like it?" He turned left and right, the skirt of the dress flowing around him.

It took some time before Germany could finally process what was in front of him. He tore his eyes away from the dress and looked down at the ground. "Y-You can do whatever you want." He turned around and left the bathroom.

"What's taking the two of them so long?" Spain mused. He was leaning on Romano, who was giving him death glares. The Italian was already pissed off that his brother and that bastard have been gone for a long time. He didn't need his former boss making it worse.

America was wondering what Italy and Germany were making of his "present."

The doors swung open and Germany strode in. He kept his eyes down. Even didn't need to meet Romano's gaze to know that the half-country wanted to go up and strangle him. He took his seat and folded his arms on top of the desk. Germany buried his head in his arms.

There was a moment of silence. "Well?" England asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

A loud thud echoed into the room and Germany heard the clicking of heels. Now there were heels?

"Germany! Why did you leave?" Italy questioned. He was lifting up the skirt of the dress, revealing the two-inch heel underneath. He was gripping the skirt so he wouldn't trip over it.

One...

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

"AHAHAHAHAHA!" America fell off his chair, laughing so hard that he gripped his sides in pain. England and Denmark joined him. Poland stared admiringly at the dress. France looked nostalgically at the clothing, remembering when it was fashionable for men to wear something like that. Spain whistled, remembering when Romano used to wear a dress like that. Everyone else just stared.

And under it all, you could hear the thudding sound of Germany hitting his head against the desk.