AN: I don't own Hetalia (TTATT)

"Wake up," I heard someone say and felt a foot nudge my ribs. I groaned and opened my eyes to see who was talking to me. The sunlight was too bright for me to see them clearly, but I did notice that they were tall, blonde, muscular, and holding a gun.

"Sit up," they said in a thick German accent. I did so and found myself staring down the barrel of their gun.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm Maya, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here."

"How do you have no idea what you're doing here?"

"I honestly just woke up here." I then heard someone else call from behind him,

"Germany, Germany! Who is it?" I then saw a young man with strange auburn hair come running up.

"Germany? Like the country?"

"Ja, I am Ludwig, the personification of Germany." Holy crap, I was in Hetalia.

"And I'm Italy!" said the other one.

"You're not working with the allies are you?"

"No, I'm not. I seriously don't know how I got here."

"Really? Are you okay, bella?" asked Italy.

"Well, you should probably be on your way then," said Germany.

"Oh, Germany, she doesn't even know where she is. Can we let her stay here?"

"Nein, Italy."

"Please, just till she finds some way to get home."

"Nein."

"If I can cut in here, I seriously don't have any way to get home from here and I wouldn't be a burden."

"See, Germany."

"Fine, she can stay, but just till she finds a way to get home."

"Thank you."

"Yay, it'll be like a sleepover, let me show you inside." Italy went running off towards the house and I followed him. He instantly started showing me around.

"So this is the kitchen, I make pasta here, and this is Germany's bedroom, don't go in his closet, and there's the bathroom…" He was about to continue when Germany cut in,

"Which you are going to march into and take a shower before you get the house dirty. (My hair was kinda full of sticks). I was ushered (a bit roughly) through the bathroom door and left to shower.

I stripped down and turned on the warm water. I had somehow ended up sleeping in bushes, so a nice warm shower was very much appreciated. I finger combed my damp curls to try and get out the tangles (somewhat successfully) and scrubbed myself down with some (lavender, really Germany?) soap. I wrung out my hair and wrapped myself in a towel. I popped my head out of the door to ask Italy about what I should wear.

"Hey, Italy?" I asked as he bounced past.

"Si, bella?"

"What should I wear? Should I just change back into my other clothes, they're kinda ripped and dirty."

"I'll go ask Germany," he said before skipping off. I shut the door again and waited until I heard a sharp knock. I opened the door and saw Germany standing in the hallway. He thrust out his arm holding some clothes.

"Here, you can wear these today and sleep in them tonight. We'll figure something else out tomorrow. I thanked him and receded back into the bathroom to change. I unfolded the clothes and saw that they were one of Italy's pink muscle shirts and some of Germany's blue boxers (a bit awkward, but the best option). I slipped out of the bathroom and wandered into the kitchen where I found the table set with dinner on it and Germany and Italy sitting around it. I sat down in the empty seat and listened to Italy rant about how he would rather be having pasta.

I finished my sandwich and before Italy even finished his rant.

"You shouldn't eat so fast, bella. It's bad for you."

"This is slow for me."

"If you eat too fast you can't taste the delicious food."

"It's also bad for your digestion," added Germany.

"Okay, I get it. It's bad to eat fast. Geez, I just met you guys and you're already lecturing me."

"Yeah, Germany," said Italy, "you shouldn't lecture someone you just met."

"Italy, you shouldn't blame other people for things you did."

"Ahh, you're so mean Germany. You wouldn't let me make pasta and now you're lecturing me."

"Italy, just forget about it and eat your verdammt food."

"I don't want to eat it, it's not pasta," whined Italy.

"Italy, if you don't eat your food, you'll never be able to train well."

"Fine," Italy said and picked up his sandwich. I sat there silently while Germany and Italy finished eating and Germany started to load the dishes.

"Hey," Italy said to me, " You should come play football with me."

"Okay," I answered and Italy led me outside. Italy ran outside and grabbed a foot/soccer ball and tossed it to me.

"Where's the football?" I asked.

"What do you mean? You're holding it."

"Oh, you meant, okay I get it now."

"That's right, you Americans have weird names for things. What do you call it again?"

"Soccer."

"That's a fun word."

"I guess so."

"Let's play now!" I dropped the ball and kicked it to Italy. We kicked it back and forth a couple of times and Italy was surprisingly good considering how generally not good he was at sports. We ran back and forth over the field kicking the ball around when we both started to get really into it. I kicked the ball as hard as I could and ended up nailing Italy in the face. He fell to the ground holding his face and I ran over to him.

"Holy crap, Italy I'm so sorry." He was good with the kicking the ball part, but I guess that the reflexes and common sense were a bit lacking.

"It's okay, it's not your fault," he said. He was too sweet for his own good.

"Here, let me see your face." He dropped his hands so that I could take a look. He had a bruise starting to blossom around his cheek.

"Does it hurt?"

"Si,"

"I know how to make it feel better."

"How?"

"You poke yourself in the other eye." It was meant to be one of those jokes that you tell someone to make them feel better, but much to my (not really) surprise, Italy actually did it.

"Ow! That didn't help."

"Oh sweetie, you weren't actually supposed to do it. Come one, let's get you inside and get some ice."

"Okay," he whimpered as I helped him up. We walked back in to the house while Italy held his eye. I led him inside the back door and found Germany on the couch reading.

"Um, Germany?"

"Ja?"

"Do you have some ice?"

"Ja, why?" He turned around and saw Italy with one eye turning purple and the other one red. "What happened."

"Italy got hit in the face with a ball, then poked himself in the eye."

"Did you really poke yourself in the eye, Italy?"

"Si," he sighed.

"Mein gott, what am I going to do with you," Germany muttered as he got Italy some ice and sent him upstairs to take a nap. Germany sat down and went back to reading while I stood off in the corner.

"You don't have to just stand there in the corner, you know. Come sit down." I walked over and sat in the chair across from Germany.

"Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Ja, it's nothing. Italy wouldn't let me not let you stay."

"He seems nice."

"Ja, I guess, he's a handful sometimes though."

"I'd bet."

"What country are you from?"

"I'm American."

"How long are you going to need to stay here?"

"I really don't know. How long will you let me stay?"

"As long as you're no trouble, I guess. Italy seems to like you."

"He does?"

"Ja, he thinks you're pretty and nice." I blushed at that. He seems really sweet."

"Ja, he's nice, a bit strange, but nice." Germany and I just chatted for a couple more hours till it started to get dark. He grabbed me a blanket and some pillows and let me set up on the couch. He went off to his office to work while I fell asleep on the couch.

~Meanwhile during an allied powers meeting~

"Guys, guess what," shouted America as he burst into the room.

"What is it, America?" asked Britain.

"So you know how I was spying on the Axis? Well, I was spying at Germany's house and he and Italy have some girl living with them!"

"Is she a country?" asked Britain.

"I don't know, I didn't recognize her."

"Was she in a uniform of some sort?"

"No, actually, she was wearing one of Italy's shirts and some of Germany's shorts."

"Ooh, it sounds like one of the Axis has a girlfriend," said France.