So, this'll be my first ever Hetalia fic, sort of a warm-up for a bigger fanfic I'm planning on writing for Hetalia. Since I've never written for Hetalia before, I wanted to practice with some of the characters and their personalities just so it will be easier on me when I finally get to writing the story. So tell my how I did with Italy and Germany if you decide to review. They're actually hard for me since their not my favorites. Ironically, my roots are half-German. But I'm a BIG Russia fan!
The idea for this came to me upon seeing a demotivation poster for Hetalia. I'm sure everyone else has seen it, too who's a Hetalia fan.
A big thank you to my friends Moira and Lisa, who got me temporarily obsessed with this insane series! Now, get on with the reading, people; I wrote this for a reason!
"Draw a circle, that's the Earth! Draw a circle, that's the Earth! Draw-!"
Germany's irritation levels were slowly rising to the heights of 'oh, shit; now you've gone and done it' anger! That song was the bane of his existence. Ever since he had known Italy, the pasta-loving country had always sung that song, whether it was working at his house to pay off reparations to the Allied countries after World War I, or making some edible red-sauced mess in his kitchen, as he was doing now.
"~AAAAHH, the world around us, can be seen...!"
It was like he didn't know any other songs! Germany would rather listen to anything than this stupid song about absolutely nothing! Springtime for Hitler, the Pina Colada song, hell, he'd even listen to an entire Justin Bieber album for ten hours if it meant he'd never have to hear the phrase, "draw a circle" ever again!
"HETA~LI~AAAAA!"
Suddenly, silence filled the room. Germany, who had been cradling his head in his hands in an attempt to fight off a migraine, snapped his eyes open and looked over to the other country in hopeful shock. His brain gave a mental sigh as sweet silence entered his ears.
Finally. he thought, Zat's ze end of zat, at least for now.
Unfortunately, the moment was short lived.
"...DRAW A CIRCLE, THAT'S THE EARTH! DRAW A CIRCLE, THAT'S THE EARTH!"
"VOULD YOU JUST DRAW ZE DAMNEN CIRCLE, ALREADY!?" Germany finally exploded, causing Italy to scream like a girl before waterfalls of tears began to stream from his eyes.
"I'm-a so sorry! Please, don't-a hurt me! I'll-a do anything; ANYTHING! I'm-a sorry that I sing-a too loud and the pasta is-a still too stale like-a Britain's cooking!" Italy began to rant, "It-a doesn't have to be a circle! It can-a be a square or a triangle! Of course-a then it wouldn't really make much sense, since the earth is-a round, but I can-a do it the way you want!"
Germany sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Alright, alright; I get ze idea, now calm down. If zere's one thing I can't stand more zhan zat song, it's ze simpering way you're always groveling."
Italy still continued to cry a bit, but not to the magnitude he had been previously. Waiting a few minutes for the Italian to calm down and take a seat next to him, Germany reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as a half-hearted apology. Irritating as Italy could be, it never felt right to yell at one so positively oblivious.
Sighing, Germany tried to think of something to say to calm Italy down, as he was still sniveling a bit.
"...So," Germany began, asking the very first thing that came to his head, "...vhy do you alvhays sing zat silly song, anyvhays?"
Confused, Italy looked up at Germany. Tears were still in the corners of his eyes, but he wasn't crying anymore. To be honest, he hardly remembered crying now. He smiled at Germany, as though he didn't understand a funny joke.
"It's not a song." Italy stated. "It's a game."
Germany raised an eyebrow. "A game?" he asked.
Italy nodded his head. "It's Grandpa Rome's game!" he explained, "He'd play it with me all the time, and with Romano, too. Though Romano mostly just yelled and-a talked about tomatoes and threatened to hit-a me." Italy said that part shakily, as though the older Italy could come in at any minute and start yelling at him. "But it was a game he-a played to teach us about-a his home. And-a then I would-a take my turn and tell him about my home."
Germany seemed slightly interested at the mention of the Roman Empire, but became a bit skeptical at the claim as he continued to listen to Italy. It made a bit of sense; there were a lot of children's games like that which had their roots in Europe. Ring around the Rosie, Patty Cake, but to think that the mighty Roman Empire had created such a silly song, let alone made a game out of it, seemed just too OOC.
"So, how do you win zis game, zhen?" Germany pressed on.
"Oh, you don't-a win it!" Italy laughed, "It's just for-a fun! And making friends!" Suddenly, a mental light bulb went off in Italy's head, and he tapped his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Hey, I know! I'll-a teach you how to play! It'll be lots of fun!"
"Uh, nein, I think I'll pass." Germany said, making an attempt to get up and leave, but Italy took his arm and brought him back down into his seat.
"Don't be shy!" he said, "I've already taught it to Japan, it's only fair I show you, too!"
Germany closed his eyes in frustration, the migraine lurking once again. "Fine, but don't expect me to start singing." he agreed.
"Okay!" Italy said, throwing his hands up in excitement. "Alright, now first, we-a need a pen and-a paper." he explained, going over to a drawer and pulling out a notepad and a pen. "Cool." he said, going back to the table. "Alright, now when I play, I have-a to use the words for mommy and-a daddy from my home. And I ask-a daddy for my favorite drink, like-a this: 'Hey, hey, Papa, could I have some wine?' And then I call to-a mommy, like this: 'Hey, hey Mama! Hey, hey Mama!' But-a you'll be saying the words that you would use for mommy and-a daddy. Oh! And also you'll say your favorite drink, not mine!"
Germany looked already annoyed. "I thought you said zis wasn't a song." he said.
"It's-a not!" Italy whined, "But you still have-a to do it the right way or you-a lose your turn in the game!"
Germany groaned. "Fine, fine. Just give me ze pen." he muttered, taking the pen from his friend's hand, and scribbling the words down so he wouldn't forget them. Not that that was very likely, given how many times he'd actually heard the song before, but whatever.
"Alright." he said when he was done. "So if I'm right, it would be something like: 'Oi, oi, Vatti, could I have some beer? Oi, oi, Mutti! Oi, oi, Mutti!"
"Hey, hey!" Italy complained, "You-a didn't say 'hey, hey'!"
"I figured zat sounded vhay too much like you for my taste, so I improvised." Germany stated, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "Vell zhen, vhat's next?"
"Your favorite food! You say it when you say, 'It doesn't matter what I do, I never forget the taste of bolognese we cooked out of my head!' And-a then you sing, 'Draw a circle, that's the earth,' three times before-a saying your name!"
Germany exhaled another exasperated sigh. "So, 'It doesn't matter vhat I do, I never forget ze taste of the vurst ve cooked out of my head?' Vait a second, zat isn't even grammatically correct, no matter vhat language you say it in, dummkopf!"
"...Yeah, and you forgot to draw the circle, too!" Italy said, "You need-a to draw the circle, three times!"
"Alright, alright, just stop ze whining, already!" Germany argued, before quickly saying the next lines, "'Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth. Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth. Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth. My name is Germany.' Zere, happy now?"
"Yes, sir!" Italy exclaimed, "Now for the final part! You say, 'Ah, the world around us can be seen through the stroke of a single brush!' Then you say something about yourself or-a your home, and say your name again, aaaand... finished! As easy as-a making-a pasta!"
Germany rolled his eyes. "Fine; 'Ah, ze vorld around us can be seen through ze stroke of a single brush. Uh... I don't know, 'No matter vhere or vhen, I'm alvays serious? Something, something, vhatever, Germany. Zere, are ve done now?"
Italy nodded. "Yep; now, let's-a put it all together!"
"Forget it." Germany said, "I've already vaisted enough of my time on zis stupid song enough today."
Italy gasped and grabbed onto Germany's arm. "But you have to sing the whole thing; it's-a really cooool~!"
"Get off of me, dummkopf!" Germanty shouted. "I refuse to listen to your sissy vhining anymore!"
"But Gerrrrmaaaanyyyyy!" Italy pestered. "Germany, Germany, Germany, Germany, Germany!"
"No, no...oh, fine!" he finally gave in, "But only if you promise to leave me alone after zis!"
"Yes, sir!" Italy saluted, "Now go on, just-a like I taught you!"
"Yeah, yeah." he muttered, before reciting the lyrics, albeit without singing them.
"Oi, oi, Vatti, could I have some beer?
Oi, oi, Mutti! Oi, oi, Mutti!
It doesn't matter vhat I do, I never forget,
ze taste of the vurst ve cooked out of my head.
Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth.
Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth.
Draw a circle, zat's ze Earth.
My name is Germany.
Ah, ze vorld around us,
can be seen through ze stroke of a single brush.
No matter vhere or vhen, I'm alvays serious.
Germany."
When he had finished, he turned to Italy with crimson cheeks and an angry scowl on his face.
"Zere!" he stated, "Now I hope you're happy."
"Yeah; that was super awesome, Germany! Just-a like you!" Italy said.
Germany rolled his eyes. "If it keeps you from giving me ze headaches, I suppose it's okay. Now I'm going to do something productive, if you don't mind!"
Before he could excuse himself, Italy called him back, childishly waving his arms to get his attention. "Germany! Wait, wait!" he said, "We're still not-a done yet!"
Germany paused, eye twitching. "Vat do you mean?" he asked.
"We still have-a three more verses and two more refrains to go through! You have-a to say grandpa and-a baby in German!"
"...Mutter Fuhrer."
I hope you enjoyed this oneshot. If you did, please let me know in a review so I'll do more Hetalia oneshots in the future.
Hasta la Pasta!
R&R at your leisure.