Title: Ich Liebe...
Characters: Germany, N. Italy/Veneziano
Pairings: GerIta
Rating: K+ (there's nothing bad in here)
Genre: Romance, Friendship
Summary: Today was the day. Germany was going to confess his love to Italy, and he was going to make it special. How will the German's plan turn out?
Inspiration: This lovely English translation video for Ich Liebe... (Germany's new character song!) - /watch?v=-rTNt8aCp00
Word Count: 1,092
Please enjoy~
Preparation
Today was the day.
Today Germany was going to confess his love to Italy.
He already knew how he was going to do it. He could visualise it in his mind already; he'd take the Italian's small hand in his much larger one, stare gently into those endless pools of amber-brown, and tell him exactly how he felt. His plans were perfected.
Now all he had to do was to prepare.
First of all, the German made his way to the basement of his house. As he opened the door, light fell gently over the neatly-made bed of his older brother. Germany smiled to himself. Perfect. Since Prussia was out, Germany knew there was little chance of disturbance (unless Prussia came back early, but that wasn't likely to happen).
And so, Germany set himself to work.
He entered the kitchen and pulled open various cupboards, removing the correct ingredients. Granulated sugar, salt, vanilla extract, lemon zest, flour, and baking powder. Unsalted butter, milk and eggs from the fridge. Apples from the fruit bowl. He was ready to bake.
He skinned and chopped the apples, placing them in the bottom of the bowl, where they were soon to be joined by the sieved sugar. He then measured out the milk exactly into a measuring jug and poured it on top of the mixture. Adding the remaining ingredients, he set the bowl to the side before, being the organised, neat German that he was, taking his next step, which was to clean the counter of any overflown milk or sugar and move all of the now unnecessary bowls and jugs over to the sink. Taking the bowl in the crook of his elbow, he used his right hand to mix the ingredients together until the mixture began to form.
A song came on the radio. It was quite an upbeat song, and Germany couldn't help but bop his head slightly along to it (since he wasn't much of a dancer, of course). He hummed along to the tune, glancing up at the clock, which showed 11:37am. Two hours and 20 minutes... he thought to himself. That was how long it was until Italy would (hopefully) be here. He wouldn't admit it if you asked him later, but for once, Germany actually felt...excited?
Shaking his head of these thoughts, he placed the bowl back on the counter and pushed the mixture which had stuck to the spoon back into the bowl with his pinkie finger. He then looked at the mixture on his pinkie for a moment before licking it off so as to taste it. It's good, the sweetness is nice. He then set back to working on his apple cake.
From somewhere in the house echoed the bark of one of the dogs (probably Berlitz; he would bark whenever someone walked past the house, so he therefore barked the most). This was ignored as the owner of these dogs continued baking.
He poured the mixture into the cake tin with a diameter of 24cm, which had been greased when he took out the ingredients. He then took a few more cooking apples and peeled them before dividing them into 6 equal parts and placing them carefully on top of the cake mixture. He poured melted butter on top of the cake, coating the apples with the substance. Then the cake was placed in the oven, which was set for 50 minutes.
Germany then took the time to head out to the park across the road from his house, where many a flower grew. He took his time to pick out some flowers, most of which were dandelions, before heading back home. What he didn't notice was Japan walking past. He noticed Germany picking dandelions and was stunned. Mr. Germany seems very...girlish today?!
Returning to Germany, he had returned home and placed his flowers in a vase before checking on the cake, which had been in the oven for half an hour. He then cleaned up his used dishes and counters before making himself a cup of coffee and relaxing for a while.
Then the oven pinged.
After removing the cake and allowing it to cool for thirty minutes, Germany placed it on a plate before powdering some sugar over the top. The cake looked perfect! Now it was time to phone Italy - it was the moment of truth.
Germany took the phone and dialled in the number of Italy, which he had easily memorised. He listened anxiously to the dial tone, hoping beyond hope that Romano didn't pick up - he didn't exactly want to be yelled at by the fiery southern Italian.
Just as Germany began to doubt the how full-proof his plan really was, the phone was picked up. Luckily, it was the northern Italian who answered.
"Ciao, pronto?"
"Um, Guten Tag, Italy."
"Ah, Germany! Ciao! How are you?"
"I'm alright, thanks. Um, Italy..."
"Hm?"
Germany took a deep breath before taking the plunge. "I've made some cake and coffee...would you like to...eat them together?"
Italy took a moment to respond. "Oh! That's sounds like fun! Sure! What time should I be there?"
Germany let out a breath which he hadn't realised he was holding. "Um...how is around 2 o' clock?"
"Buona! I'll be round soon~ See you later!"
"Ja, tschüß."
As soon as the phone was put down, Germany gave an uncharacteristic fist-pump. Italy had agreed to come over! It was all going to plan! Now all he had to do was get himself ready and make some fresh coffee...
Oh, wait! He had almost forgotten to make sure the house was neat and tidy! And he had to make sure the dogs were fed and watered as well! And let's not forget that he had to set the table as well...
He spent the next hour before Italy's arrival cleaning the house, tending to the dogs and making himself presentable. The kitchen was cleared, the table was set with the vase of dandelions as the centrepiece, and the cups of fresh coffee were made. The cake was perfect too. Everything was ready.
Then the doorbell rang, causing the dogs to cry out in a harmony of barks. Straightening his clothing one more time (all the while thinking, am I too under-dressed?), he made his way to the door.
It was time.
He opened the door.
"Wilkommen."
To be continued?
Translations:
Ciao - Hi/bye (Italian)
Pronto - It's basically what Italians say on the phone. It literally means 'ready', but the correct answer would be 'sono (name)', meaning that you're telling them who you are. So really, pronto is a way of asking who is calling.
Guten Tag - Good day (German)
Buona - Great (Italian)
Ja - Yes (German)
Tschüß - See you (German)
Wilkommen - Welcome (German)
Extra: Ich liebe - I love (German) - this is the title of the fic and the song, so I thought I'd best include it here.
Author's Notes: Shall I continue this? I have more planned, if you like.
Check out my other stories, if you want.
~RandomWriter57 ( = ¬ = )7 *salutes you*
