Dancing
Summary: Why, Germany wondered, was Italy only good at useless things? (One-shot/drabble of boredom...)
A/N: I got the idea while playing DDR with a friend of mine... And somehow, we got on the subject of which countries would be best at this. Of course, Japan topped our list. XD She then came out with an idea of Italy being good at it, since he seems to be good at lots of other pretty 'useless' stuff... Thus, this plot bunny was formed. I banged it out in about (not kidding) 15 minutes, because I've been having writer's block for about 95% of my other stories...
This is my first piece of Hetalia fanfiction, so I hope you enjoy it!
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"See? It's easy, Germany!" The Italian chimed, all smiles.
Ludwig frowned, unable to see what could be so amusing about such a setup. A plastic mat (which didn't seem very safe, in the German's opinion) sat innocently on the floor, attached to Feliciano's outdated X-Box. Who even used those anymore? The German also wondered why the mat wasn't slipping and sliding around on the wooden floor of Italy's home. Damn Japan for creating such a game - honestly, if Germany wanted to dance, couldn't he just as easily actually learn a waltz than do this spazzing mockery of dancing known as 'Dance Dance Revolution'?
Italy motioned for him to take a turn. Germany raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't honestly think I'm going to do that," he stated flatly.
Feliciano nodded, laughing. "Ve, Germany... You're so serious! It's nice to just let loose and have fun sometimes, you know?"
"Knowing my luck, as soon as I got near that thing, your brother would show up. And we both know Romano would never let me live it down."
"It's not that big of a deal," Feliciano countered. "Come on, Germany! Please?"
Ludwig sighed. He hated it when Feliciano begged like that. Because once the Italian looked at him with those big brown eyes, he knew that he'd already lost. He stepped over to the mat, and poked it with a foot. It flipped through a few songs, landing on some song in rapid Japanese. Ludwig moved over again. This time it was English.
Better than the squeaky-voiced femae singers that Japan seemed to be so fond of. He started the game, and stood on the mat.
The first step came up, and Germany felt that it was a fluke that he missed. Narrowing his eyes, he attempted to hit the next.
And missed.
What the hell? He attempted again. 'Good'. 'Good'? He'd totally gotten that one! Stupid defective game...
The dance picked up its pace, and Germany soon found himself almost panicking, trying to hit each note as it came.
Just to have the mat slip from under him. He fell, hitting the floor with a "thud", and heard the crowd from the game begin "booing" and his 'performance'. He grimaced, picking himself up.
And failed his first song.
He stared at the large, print letters: "FAILED". What the hell? He'd barely been playing half a minute!
He heard Feliciano giggle behind him, and growled as the Italian offered a hand to him. He took it, and was almost surprised when the Italian easily managed to heft him to his feet - he was sure he must have outweighed Feliciano by at least fifty pounds. Probably more, considering how skinny he was.
"Germany failed, so it's my turn now," Italy piped. Germany didn't complain, and sat down on Feliciano's couch.
And watched as Italy changed the setting from "Beginner" to "Difficult". Oh, this was going to be good. He'd be the one laughing when Italy fell flat on his face.
Three minutes later, he was staring at the TV in irritation. "AA". Italy had missed maybe three steps.
"Why is it that you're only good at useless things?" Germany questioned.
Italy shrugged, laughing to himself. "It's easy, Germany! Try again."
If ITALY could do it, there was no way in hell Germany couldn't. He stepped back over to the infernal contraption, and changed the setting to "Easy", just to be on the safe side.
He was surprised about how tired this made him. It might have had something to do with the fact that he seemed to process things slower, so he had to move quickly to hit the arrow each time, whereas Italy seemed to just step on it without much thought...
He felt rather proud of himself when he managed to pass it. Sure, he'd gotten mostly 'Boos' and 'goods' (and a single 'Perfect', which was, sadly, the highlight of his day thus far), but he'd passed. He waited for his score to come up, rather sure that he'd scored fairly well. He was sure that he hadn't scored as well as Italy, but it had to be better than his first time--
"D".
Germany stared at the game in shock. "What the hell?" he said aloud, glaring at the screen.
"That's not bad for your second time," Italy said comfortingly.
"I agree," a calm voice stated from the door. "Not bad at all. It took Italy twice as long to not fail. His coordination's gotten better, though."
"When'd you get here, Japan?" Germany asked, sighing heavily. Japan had been one of the only nations, other than Romano, that he had dreaded being seen by.
"About halfway through Italy's turn," Japan smiled. "Mind if I take one myself?"
"Go ahead!" Italy said chipperly. Germany relinquished it without a fight, glaring at the defective piece of gaming equiptment. Japan went to a fast paced song, thought a moment, and then turned up the difficulty... past 'difficult', past 'hard', and on to something called 'Oni'. Whatever that was.
He soon found up. The arrows were going up at least three times faster than Ludwig's brain could process them, and yet somehow, Japan was hitting every single one.
As well as carrying on a conversation with Italy about which songs he liked. He didn't even seem to be out of breath.
Germany hid his face in his hands, and decided never to play "Dance Dance Revolution" again, so long as he lived.