So . . . I got bored and started wondering what would happen if Jersey had to spend a weekend with the Italian brothers. Then this happened. Again I say so . . . Oh and I apologize for any OOCness and my horrible Italian. I used Google Translate. Thanks and enjoy Visiting Days.
Visiting Days
It was time for twelve of the states to visit their other parents. Each of them had to spend at least one weekend a month with their other parents, so they drew names out of a hat –well, it was really a box, but they called it a hat –to see who was going away each week.
"Alright, let's see who goes this week," America announced. He reached in and picked up twelve slips of paper.
"Alaska, Florida, Massachusetts, Texas, Louisiana, Georgia, California, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Montana, New Hampshire, and New Jersey," America called out.
"Haha!" New York laughed. "I don't have to go!"
"Shut it Yankee," Jersey hissed. She thought that her other parents were sort of idiotic, so it was no surprise that she was upset. That and she hated it when her sister acted so smug.
Twenty minutes later, Jersey had enough clothes for three days packed into a suitcase. Her remaining siblings waved goodbye, snickering as she walked out the door. They all knew who Jersey was related to.
As Jersey got onto the small plane, she waved goodbye to her remaining siblings, wondering how exactly her Papa and Padre were going to react to her unexpected arrival. She had 'forgotten' to call them. Okay, so it was on purpose, but still.
Italy was busy cooking a huge pot of pasta when he heard the doorbell ring. Humming quietly to himself, he slowly made his way to the door. When he opened it, there was a girl standing there with a rolling suitcase in her grasp.
"Ciao Papa," she greeted.
"Jersey?" Italy said uncertainly.
"Yep, it's me!" she chirped. "Dad sent me to stay with yous and Padre for a few days."
"Come in!" Italy instructed cheerfully, moving out of the way so Jersey could walk into the house.
Jersey was shown to a guest room that Italy had made up for when any of the states came to visit. It wasn't all that bad, but it could've used a bit more American. Both her Italian parents told Jersey she couldn't take down the Italian flag and put up a New Jersey one. That didn't stop her from doing it anyway.
After the room looked better, Jersey smelled something yummy. It smelled like actual Italian food. She made her way into the kitchen and saw her Papa putting pasta onto three different plates.
"Yous made my fave!" Jersey grinned. "How'd yous know I was coming?"
"I didn't," Italy stated. "I just made food. Fratello is going to be at dinner too, so yay! The whole family will be together."
Soon after Jersey started eating –over the moon that she was having real Italian food instead of the crap some places served –the front door was thrown open.
"Fratello!" Italy called out, jumping out of his seat. He rushed out of the kitchen, and soon he came back with Romano in tow.
"What the fuck? What are you doing here?" he demanded, seeing Jersey sitting at the table, eating.
"Padre!" Jersey grinned. "It's nice to see yous."
"Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, sitting down.
"I'm here to visit, duh. So, how've yous been?"
As the family ate dinner, Jersey and the Italian brothers caught up –well, it was a bit hard to understand with Romano's colorful language, but still. Jersey found herself slipping into Italian every other sentence, which wasn't too odd when she was around her other family. At least here she could talk and the others around would listen. Living with fifty-one other people meant that everyone was trying to talk over each other.
After dinner, Jersey offered to help with the dishes. Back home she wouldn't have offered, but she knew there wasn't as many dishes with only three people eating instead of fifty-two, so it wouldn't take as long. Italy let her do the dishes by herself –or rather, he made her do them herself. She was tempted to complain, but then she remembered that her Padre was in the next room and would probably cuss her out if she did.
After the dishes were washed and put away, Jersey headed to her room and grabbed a book from the shelf. It turned out to be a photo album. Jersey grinned when she saw a sketch of her Papa as a chibi, wearing a dress. How on earth had everyone thought he was a girl?
Jersey turned the page to see a picture of Seborga. Oh right, they were cousins, weren't they? Wow, her cugino and her fratello were dating. Normally that would've been weird, but she was a state, not a human, so her cugino and fratello weren't related.
As she flipped through the book, she noticed a strange person in one of the drawings. He was tallish, with dark brown hair and some sort of gladiator outfit. The only thing going through Jersey's mind was that he was a cross dresser like Poland, because he was in a skirt.
Italy walked into the guest room and saw his daughter flipping through an old photo album. She was currently looking at a picture of his grandpa. When the girl glanced up, she saw her papa standing by the door.
"Papa, who's this?"she asked, showing him the drawing.
"Grandpa Rome!" Italy chirped. "He was the Roman Empire, but his empire dissolved."
"Oh. Can you tell me about him?"
Italy sat down and started telling Jersey stories about her great-grandpa. She found herself laughing at some of the stories. It wasn't until Italy finished the last tale that Jersey noticed the time.
"Um, Papa? Its sorta time for me to go to sleep," she admitted. "Can yous please leave?"
"Si," Italy said, hopping off the bed. He gave Jersey a quick hug and started to leave the bedroom. Just before he did, he called out to Jersey. "Goodnight Magila."
"Goodnight Papa," Jersey replied happily. It had been too long since she last heard someone call her by the Italian version of her name.
She hurriedly got ready for bed and slipped under the covers, falling asleep instantly. Her dreams were filled with strange mixtures of stories and memories.
The next day, Jersey got up and got dressed, taking a minute to match her stilettos with her hair color. The second she stepped out of her room, she was bombarded by her papa.
"Ve! Jersey, we're going into the garden today!" he chirped. "Come on, follow me!"
He grabbed her hand and rushed her out of the house. Once they were out in the garden, Jersey realized the massive problem with her Italy's plan: she couldn't walk in dirt while wearing her shoes.
"Um, Papa? I can't walk in these," she tried, showing him her shoes.
"Why not? They are shoes, aren't they?" Italy asked, not really understanding what Jersey meant. The teen sighed.
"Papa, my heel sinks into the ground," she explained. "I can't walk in them."
Italy was silent for a few seconds. "Let me see," he said eventually.
Jersey rolled her eyes, but did as he said anyway. Sure enough, on her first step through the topsoil, her heel sank through. She lifted her foot out of the ground, revealing a tiny hole in the dirt.
"Wow," Italy said. "Can I borrow those?"
Jersey shrugged. "Sure, just let me go change my shoes."
Three minutes later, Jersey was handing her papa a pair of stilettos while she was trying to figure out how to keep her balance in a pair of flats. Maybe that was a bit backwards, but she had grown so used to her high heels that any other shoes threw off her balance. Just before she headed back out into the garden, Romano stopped her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he demanded.
"Uh, I'm gonna go help Papa in the garden?" Jersey answered, though it came out almost like a question.
Romano shook his head. "Not in that fucking outfit."
What?
"Um . . ." Jersey began, not sure how to continue. Romano noticed her hesitancy and explained.
"It's a little known fact that southern Italy is one of the fucking fashion capitals of the world," he clarified. "So I've picked up a few things."
"Oh," she stated, surprised. Her padre knew about fashion? Since when? Before she could question him any further, he had already grabbed her arm and started tugging her into the house.
Two hours, lots of cussing, and a few threats later, Romano finally declared that he was done giving Jersey a makeover. Sighing, she got up, glanced in the mirror, and screamed.
Her hair was uncolored!
"What did yous do?!" she demanded, rounding on her padre. "What happened to my hair?!"
"I got rid of the fucking color," Romano explained. "It looks better without those shitty streaks."
"No, it doesn't!" Jersey insisted. "I am New freakin' Jersey! My hair is supposed to be colored!"
"Well, get used to it," her padre instructed "because now I've got an outfit for you to change into."
"Shit."
Five minutes later, Jersey stepped out of her bedroom. Her animal prints and neon colors had been swapped out for a more subdued wardrobe: stone washed jeans, silver glittered flats, and a dark purple top. She was also wearing a black headband with a small rhinestone flower. Normally she didn't wear any sort of headband.
"I hate yous," Jersey growled at Romano.
"Suck it up," he ordered. "You look better."
"I hate yous," she repeated, still glaring.
"Get over it," Romano ordered. "Now go help the bastard in the garden. I've got things to do."
"Like what?" Jersey asked sarcastically. "The tomato bastard?"
Romano's face flushed red at that. "What? I've got nothing to do with that bastard!"
"Uh huh, right," she grinned. "Later Padre." Jersey headed outside before Romano could say anything, resulting in many curses from the southern half of Italy.
When Jersey walked into the garden, she was greeted with a strange sight. Her papa was walking through the dirt, wearing the hot pink stilettos she had lent him.
"Uh, Papa? What are yous doing?" she asked.
Italy glanced over at his daughter and grinned. "I'm digging holes to plant more tomatoes!" he called cheerfully.
"Oh." Why was her papa so weird?
A few hours later, once Italy was done working in the garden and Romano had left to 'get away from all the weirdos,' someone came to visit Italy. Unfortunately, it wasn't the Italian nation who opened the door, but the American state.
"Can I help yous?" Jersey demanded when she saw Germany standing at the door. She was torn between hating him and thinking he wasn't too bad of a guy because of both her Italian parents.
"Vat are you doing here?" the German asked.
"I'm visiting," she explained. "What're yous doing here?"
"I am visiting as vell," he admitted. "May I come in?"
"Lemme ask Papa," Jersey told him. Without missing a beat, she glanced over her shoulder and yelled "PAPA! CAN GERMANY COME INSIDE?"
Not even a second later, Italy yelled back "Ve~! Let him in!"
Jersey looked up at the blonde man. "Come on in," she allowed, stepping back. Germany followed the teenage girl into the living room, where Italy was busy constructing a –was that a pillow fort?
"Uh, Papa? What are yous doing?" Jersey ventured.
Italy glanced up. "I'm building a fort!"
"I can see that. Why?" Geeze, it was like talking to a five year old!
"Well, its movie night tonight," Italy explained.
Jersey sighed. That's why he invited Germany over, wasn't it? Friggin movie night! Was all of her family against her or something?
"Can I stay in here and watch the movie with yous?" Jersey eventually asked the two nations.
They looked at each other. Italy was all for it, but Germany wasn't too sure. He didn't know how he felt about the girl. On one hand she was Italy's daughter, and therefore shared some of his traits, but on the other she was also America and Romano's daughter, so she was like them as well. Which was she most like at the moment?
"Alright," Germany agreed. "Let's all vatch a movie."
Now came the hard decision of which movie to watch. Germany suggested some sort of war movie, while Italy suggested When in Rome. The deciding vote came down to New Jersey.
"When in Rome," she stated. "I like love stories better."
While Italy cheered happily, Germany cursed under his breath. He should have known the girl would side with her father. The three eventually settled down to watch the movie.
By the end of the movie, Germany was about ready to shoot the DVD player. How on earth had be been roped into watching a romantic comedy? It had been horrible! Never again would he watch a movie with the Italian and his daughter.
"By Germ!" Jersey waved as the blonde man started to leave.
"Vat have I told you about calling me that?" Germany demanded. "I am not a germ."
"Sorry, forgot it was a touchy subject for yous," Jersey grinned unapologetically.
"Magila, what are you and Germany talking about?" Italy asked, walking back into the room.
"Just wishing him happy travels, Papa," Jersey lied.
"Ve~ I'm so glad you two get along!" Italy grinned before walking back out.
Germany regarded the girl with a curious expression. "Vhy do you not like me?" he asked eventually.
Jersey rolled her eyes. "I like yous well enough," she admitted. "You're just not my fave person ever. Besides, if I couldn't stand yous, I wouldn't pick on yous; I'd threaten yous. Huge difference."
Strange as that was, it actually made sense. So New Jersey didn't hate him, she just didn't think he was the best in the world. Germany could live with that. At least he knew the daughter of one of his best friends didn't hate him.
The next day, the final day of Jersey's weekend with her parents, the northern state decided she was going to sit around and relax. So far during the trip she had heard stories of her great-grandfather, helped in the garden, been given a makeover by her padre, and watched a movie with her papa and Germany. That's a lot in just two days.
But her plans were thrown out the window when Italy opened the door, grinning ear-to-ear.
"Magila! We're going to have so much fun today!" he chirped happily.
Jersey rolled her eyes. "What are we gonna do, Papa?" she sighed.
Italy grinned before launching into his detailed plans for their day.
The next afternoon, the twelve states were due back home. So far, all but New Jersey and Alaska had shown up. Bets were placed –mostly by Nevada –on who would show up first. Suddenly, the door was thrown open by a cheerful teenage girl, scaring a few of her siblings.
"Ciao, sona a casa!" Jersey greeted happily. "I'm home!"
"What the heck happened to you?" New York demanded, peering curiously at her sister. Jersey grinned, pulling Nya into a tight hug.
"Sorella! I had so much fun this weekend!" she chirped.
"Let. Go," Nya hissed. There was waaaaaay too much Italian in Jersey right now for her to be normal. Jersey jumped back, brushing her hair out of her face. Her siblings noticed a distinct lack of color in her hair, making them wonder exactly what had happened to her during her stay with the Italian brothers.
As Jersey was explaining her weekend in detail to her closest sister, the door slowly opened to reveal an expressionless, silver-haired five year old.
"Kolkolkolkolkolkol."
"Ah shit! A mini-Russia!"
Figured I might as well try to end it on a funny note. So, for the translations . . . I tried to put what they mean close to it, but in case you missed any/didn't understand it, here you go:
Ciao: Hello
Fratello: Brother
Cugino: Cousin
Magila: Jersey
Sona a casa: I'm home
Sorella: Sister
So, I apologize for any OOCness. Thanks for reading!
~C