Hey, everyone! This is a fic exchange with colej67 with the prompt, "Italy messes up in a big way (not intentionally, but just in his clueless way) and causes a big mess for Germany. But this time, unlike all the others, Germany doesn't get mad."
I hope you like it, dude! It was fun to write.
I own nothing, of course.
Just for the record, Germany was still not a hundred percent with the idea of letting Italy drive when he handed him the keys. Just a final proclamation of innocence in the matter.
But Italy had been so adorably persistent, and Prussia had poured so many good luck beers down his throat, and Moscow was so far away, that he finally relented and tossed Italy the keys to his beautiful Audi, his pride and joy. What was the worst that could happen? Germany would be right there in the front seat and they would be taking the highways. Those were straightforward enough.
Besides, the small gesture of trust excited Italy so much that he had thrown his arms around Germany's neck and kissed him right in front of Prussia and murmured promises in Germany's ear that made him blush. And even though Prussia had hooted and thrown nuts at their heads, the moment felt so tingly and intimate that Germany simply couldn't back down.
In fact, Germany couldn't even help but smile as he watched Italy buckle himself in and adjust the mirrors excitedly. The first thought Germany had was that Italy was like a small child. The second thought was "Oh hell no. I'm not letting a child drive my car." And the third was something along the lines of "Is Bruder going to burn down the house while I'm gone?"
"Germany?" Italy broke Germany's train of thought as he patted the passenger's seat expectantly and waited for Germany to get in the car. Because for some reason, Germany's hand gripped the handle ferociously, refusing to open it. Germany took a deep breath and silently promised his hand that everything would be okay because his head would be right behind it to make sure they didn't die. His hand seemed to relax at this and he pulled the door open and buckled himself in the passenger's seat of his- HIS- Audi.
"Ve?" Italy asked. "Germany? Are you okay?"
"Yes, Italy," Germany replied evenly. "I'm fine."
"You should relax, ve! I'm a good driver!"
"I am, Italy. I'm very relaxed."
Italy looked at him, concerned. "Do you always breathe like that when you're relaxed?"
"I wasn't aware that I was breathing."
"Ve. That's what worries me."
Germany exhaled sharply and realized he had been holding his breath. He silently scolded his lungs and they called him stupid. Nearly every other part of his body agreed with them, except the one that mattered. Even his brain knew it was favoritism, but what's a man to do?
Germany's body groaned as he tried to relax it into the seat and Italy watched him happily. When he convinced the final muscles of his legs to cool it, he looked over at his favorite face in the world.
"Italy," he said coolly. "Do you know how to drive a stick shift?"
"Of course, ve!" Italy grinned that wide, beautiful grin that Germany knew, just KNEW, was going to kill him one day. "I told you, I'm a good driver!"
"And you're fully packed?"
"Si!"
"And you brought the GPS?"
"Si!"
"And the directions?"
"Si!"
"And the map?"
"Si," Italy said, looking confused. "But doesn't that all seem like overkill?"
"Better safe than sorry, ja?"
"Ve! Are you ready?"
Germany silently nodded and said prayers to God, Jesus, Mary, Jehovah, Allah, Buddha, the Earth Mother and even Yahweh (which was a little awkward, to say the least.) He was Protestant, sure, but Germany was a cautious man. He was willing to hear anyone with a plan as Italy slowly pulled out onto the street.
During the first few miles, Italy had tried to start up little conversations about how this cloud looked very much like a bunny, or that old couple holding hands at the bagel shop was so cute, but Germany shot him down and told him to keep his eyes on the road, PLEASE. And when Italy tried to turn on the radio, Germany promptly turned it off. When Italy tried to smile reassuringly at Germany, Germany gritted his teeth and pointed at the road.
Finally, Italy pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park, annoyed. Germany looked at him in surprise.
"I-Italy?"
Italy said nothing, just glared at Germany.
"Was?"
Italy crossed his arms and glared at his boyfriend.
"Italy…" Germany began, but Italy silenced him with a look.
Germany let out a resigned sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry. That dog is really cute."
"He is, isn't he?" Italy finally said happily and pulled back onto the road gently.
Italy chatted animatedly and Germany bemoaned the fact that he had lost yet another argument when Italy hadn't even said a word. America would say that the force was strong with this one.
Slowly, Germany began to relax and respond to Italy's inane questions.
"What's your favorite kind of soup?"
"Potato."
"Remember that one time when we…"
"Yes."
"Tell me a story from when you were a kid?"
"No."
"Germany, sing a song for us!"
"I can't sing, Italy."
"Si, potete," Italy said. "I've heard it!"
Germany had to catch his breath after it tried to run away from him to be with Italy's perfectly round vowels and wonderful accent that drove him insane. "I don't know any good ones. Why don't you sing instead?"
Without any further provocation, Italy happily launched into a little Italian ballad and Germany closed his eyes in pleasure. He didn't understand most of the words, but he really didn't need to. Italy's lips and tongue danced skillfully around the beautiful words and for a moment Germany bemoaned the fact that so many contemporary Italian singers relied so heavily on instruments when the words were just perfect a capella. But then, Italy did have a gorgeous voice.
Italy finished and Germany opened his eyes. He yelped to see that Italy had pulled out onto the highway while he was singing and they were now going 70 miles an hour.
"What? What did I do?" Italy panicked, swerving a little.
Germany bit back a scream and closed his eyes again, trying to find his happy place. Unfortunately, he was already in his happy place, driving with Italy. He was just in the wrong position.
"Ve? Are you alright?"
Germany opened one eye and sighed in relief to see that despite his concern, Italy's eyes were glued to the road.
"Ja. I'm sorry. You're doing wonderfully, Italy."
Italy colored in pleasure and smiled. "Ve! Thank you!"
"How's the gas? Are we good on gas?"
"We're good on gas!"
"And the check engine light?"
"It's off, Germany."
"Are the-"
"We checked the tires before we left."
"What about-"
"There's plenty of windshield fluid."
Germany bit his lip and tried to think about what else they needed to keep their eyes on, but the car was fairly new and didn't seem to have any problems.
Italy smiled at the road and Germany felt a sudden stab of jealousy before he realized that the grin was directed at him. "Ve! Why don't you have a nap so we can trade off in a few hours?"
Germany didn't really relish the idea of sleeping while his- HIS- car was moving, but Italy made sense. The beers Prussia had forced on him, while doing nothing for his anxiety, had made him a little sleepy.
"Okay…" Germany said warily. "You're doing well- very well. Are you sure you don't need me up? To navigate or something?"
"I'm fine, dolcezza."
Germany shivered in pleasure despite himself at the Italian nickname. Italy caught his eye briefly and smiled that wonderful, soothing, loving smile and Germany, for the first time in the past hour, felt fine with trusting Italy with driving. He smiled back and adjusted his body, letting his forehead rest against the window and the vibrations carry him off to a light doze as the sun set behind them.
…
Germany woke up suddenly to screaming.
His eyes shot open and he bolted up and shouted. Italy kept screaming and Germany's eyes took in the enormous yellow globes of light rushing at them.
"SHEISSE!" Germany screamed as he grabbed the wheel and forced the car to the side of the road. "Brake, Italy! BRAKE!"
The cars honked and beeped at the little Audi as Italy slammed his foot on the brake, still screaming, on the side of the road. Germany reached over and forced the gear into park.
Germany swore under his breath for a minute while Italy murmured apology after apology. Germany wanted to scream and yell at Italy, but he felt closer to hysteria then anger. So he breathed and looked at the cars passing them.
"Are you okay?"
"Y-yes," Italy sobbed.
"You're not hurt?"
"N-no."
"Gute." Germany sighed and looked down, surprised. Apparently, he had unbuckled Italy and pulled him protectively into his lap. They sat together for a moment and waited for their hearts to slow to a normal pace. They watched the cars scream past on the highway.
Something seemed off about the cars to Germany. "Italy," he said slowly. "We're supposed to be on a divided highway."
"We are."
"And all the cars are going the opposite direction."
"Yes…"
Germany tried to play out in his head how Italy could have POSSIBLY ended up on the British side of the road when he was supposed to be going the entirely opposite direction, but he came up empty.
"How?" he faltered.
"I don't know!" Italy let out a fresh wave of sobs and buried his face in Germany's shoulder. Germany's body shook as he stroked Italy's hair.
Italy winced in anticipation of the rage-fueled scream fest that usually took place after he nearly killed Germany with a grenade or a neglected oven or being… well, being Italy. But it didn't come. He slowly opened his eyes to look at Germany and startled.
Germany was shaking in silent laughter.
Italy sat back in bewilderment as Germany let out a couple choked guffaws and his eyes filled with tears of mirth. He doubled over, pressing Italy against the dashboard with his forehead.
"G-Germany?"
"You don't… you don't know, hahahaha!"
"I'm so sorry, ve!"
Germany laughed harder and wrapped his arms around Italy's waist. Italy wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or terrified, so he kept apologizing as Germany kissed his neck.
Germany pulled away happily and smiled, cheeks wet, at Italy. Italy smiled slowly and let out a nervous chuckle.
"It's okay," Germany murmured into Italy's neck. "It's okay. You're okay. Everything is okay."
"Ve? Germany? Are you feeling okay?"
Germany pulled Italy into a gentle kiss and smiled. "Gott, I love you.
Italy smiled self-consciously. "I really am sorry for almost killing us."
Germany shrugged. "You tripped over air yesterday and bruised your nose on a wall. Almost dying comes with the territory of dating you."
Italy blushed and looked away. Germany caught his chin and looked him in the eye.
"Relax. You're worth it."
"R-really?"
"Really." Germany kissed Italy and pulled him in close. Italy responded gratefully and wrapped his body around Germany's. The cars screamed past them.
They broke apart gently and Germany looked at the clock on his radio.
He whistled lowly. "How did you manage to get us on the wrong side of the highway in six minutes?"
"It's an ancient Italian secret," Italy quipped.
Germany laughed and pressed his forehead against Italy's. Italy giggled in relief.
"Well," Germany said finally. "We'd better get back on the road."
"Ve," Italy said happily. He tried to climb back into the driver's seat, but Germany stopped him.
"Don't even think about it," Germany grumbled. "I'm driving."
Yay! Done! I hope it's alright, lol!
The title is the song Italy sings for Germany. It means, roughly, "Light Me With Your Dream" or "Entrust Me With Your Dream." I don't care much for the singer, but the lyrics are perfect and the tune is simple. I imagine Italy would make it sound lovely a capella, so I'm sticking with it. Lol!