A/N: Whoops, disappeared for ages. Here's a silly little ficlet I found while going through my laptop. Enjoy!
Aeroplanes Are Not Shooting Stars
It was just your average world meeting. No work getting done, the speaker being talked over, arguments breaking out everywhere and a very specific German growing increasingly irritated. As he tried to call order, he found his former ally, North Italy, singing along to a song he was playing off some kind of portable music device. Well, Germany couldn't tell exactly what is was called. Did the name of something that small and annoying even matter?
"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now, wish right now-"
Ah. Italy was listening to some incredibly annoying, incredibly American, pop music. Adding to the noise of the room was an annoyance. It didn't seem as though anybody was ready to get back to business any time soon, so best to let him have his fun.
"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars? I could really use a wish right now-"
It was a grating song though. Yes, Italy could sing, but it didn't make the song any less annoying. The worst parts were the rap interludes, although the female vocalist certainly didn't have very much talent either.
"-wish right now, wish right now-
No, Germany couldn't take any more.
"Italia, do you have any idea how stupid that song is? Last time you tried to wish on a shooting star, it was an aeroplane and it was an air raid. We almost died!"
The awkward silence in the room was more deafening than any of the noise before. America looked shocked, his hands in the air with papers full of ridiculous ideas still, and England looked... smug. Germany knew the man still felt some sense of pride over "winning" both world wars. Even France was grinning, albeit with great difficulty due to the English man's fingers around his neck. Covering his face with his hands, Germany sunk back into his seat in embarrassment.
Like an average world meeting, they were all dismissed early. Those last to leave the room noted the North Italian patting the German on the back, telling him it was okay and there were other songs he could play. The German had his head in his hands, groaning in despair. He thought nobody else wanted to take these meetings seriously, and wondered about the sanity of his companion.
Really, an average day.