Feliciano sighed happily. Feliks was a great friend – they could shop together, bake cupcakes, read magazines, all the stuff that Germany refused to do with him. The sleepover at the Italian's house the previous night had been lots of fun. But now Feliks had gone home, Feliciano had to tidy up his room. Him and Feliks had gone a bit, well, crazy last night and there were magazine cuttings ad glitter everywhere.
When the Italian entered his bedroom again, he was slightly shocked at just how much rubbish there was everywhere. "Ludwig will kill me if I leave it like this," he mumbled unhappily, resigning himself to tidying up even though it was the most boring job in the world.
He stripped the camp bed that Feliks had used, folded the duvet and tried to lug the mattress back into Germany's room (but failed, because it was far too heavy for him). It was only once he had started sweeping the glitter underneath his bed – he wasn't very good at cleaning, even though he had extensive experience from growing up in Austria's household – that he noticed that Feliks had forgotten something.
"What are these?" Feliciano asked himself, holding up the bright pink object. It was like two medium-sized sticks, stuck together in a V shape. He remembered Feliks using them after he had washed his hair. The Pole had put locks of his hair between the two sticks and had squeezed on them… "Oh, yeah! He called them 'hair straighters'!"
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm like, straightening my hair," said Feliks. "My hair gets like, sooo frizzy after I wash it so I totally need to straighten it."
"I don't understand," Feliciano frowned.
"These are hair straighteners." Feliks waved the hot pink straighteners in Feliciano's face. "They – make – your – hair – straight," he enunciated, as if talking to somebody half-deaf or a bit stupid.
"Oh, now I understand!" Felicano grinned happily.
"Hair straighteners are, like, the best things ever invented," declared the Pole, switching the straighteners off. "They make your hair look, like, totally fab."
"Totally fab," smiled Feliciano, regarding the straighteners with glee. "I'll try them on myself! Then I can look totally fab too!"
The Italian didn't quite understand how to use the straighteners. He tried to remember how to use them from what Feliks had done, and managed to plug them in with no trouble. It was only once he started using them that the problems started.
"My hair is too short," he whimpered, trying to tug his hair out far enough to actually straighten it.
"Aaah~!" he moaned when he accidently touched his haircurl. The feeling that came afterwards was most unpleasant, as if somebody was raking their nails down his spine. He was so preoccupied with trying to shake the feeling off that he didn't notice his hand slipping –
"OOOOOWWWWWW!" he shrieked as the red-hot object pressed against the shell of his ear. Dropping the straighteners like they were poisonous snakes, he dashed to the bathroom, soaked a flannel and pressed it against his burnt ear. "Ve~" he sighed, the cold washing over him like fresh water. "I am never trying to straighten my hair again." Once his ear had stopped burning, he put the flannel away and decided to make some pasta for brunch when Germany got home.
"Feliciano! I'm back!" called Germany, shutting the front door. He had forgotten how irritating his brother was, and was glad to be home. He entered the kitchen to be greeted by the ever-present warmth that meant that pasta was cooking.
"Ludwig! I made some pasta for brunch!" Italy cried.
"You can't eat pasta for brunch," mumbled the German, before saying in a louder voice, "Did you and Feliks have fun?"
"Oh yes! We baked some cookies, and we talked about Gilmore Girls, and –"
"Did you make a lot of mess?"
"Yeah, but I cleaned it!" Oblivious to Germany's shock, Italy continued, "But I couldn't get the mattress back into your room, so I left it on the landing, is that okay?"
"I'll put it away," Ludwig assured him, putting his overnight bag on the table and hurrying upstairs.
"FELICIANO!"
The Italian flinched at the bellow that echoed through the house.
"Yes, Ludwig?" he called, scurrying into the hallway.
"WHY DOES IT SMELL OF BURNING IN YOUR BEDROOM?"
"Burning?" Felicano was confused. Until… "The hair straighteners!" he squeaked, running upstairs. The sight of a very angry Germany, holding the pink straighteners in one hand and Feliciano's duvet cover in the other – which now had a big black burn mark in the middle of it – greeted him.
"What the hell are these?" shouted Germany, brandishing the straighteners.
"I'm sorry!" Feliciano cried. "Feliks left them behind and I was just trying them out but then I burned my ear and dropped them and forgot about them… I didn't mean to ruin the duvet!"
"It's alright," Germany sighed. "But honestly, Feliciano, you act like such a blond sometimes."
It was only after Italy shot him a puzzled look that Germany realised that he had just dissed himself.
Just a random thought XD Review please?