Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

First fanfic for the Hetalia fandom. Ah~So nervous. I hope I got their characters pretty good.

My headcanon for Arthur is...Hard to explain I guess. I sorta count him and England as separate so my personality and fears for him is different.

I think he'd be afraid of closed and dark places. Just part of my headcanon.

Part 1 of my Angel Pair one-shots.


"Ve~Are you alright England?" Honeyed eyes stared down at the shaking nation.

It had started out simply enough, the nations attending a meeting. This time the meeting had gone on rather long and it had been around six o'clock when everyone agreed they did all they could today. Italy had bounced over to Germany and Japan, chattering happily about a new different pasta recipe.

England had noticed that while Italy had been waving his arms excitingly when walking out the doors his new cookbook had slipped. Well, it was only the polite gentleman thing to do and return it. Unfortunately he had not counted on the Italian's fear of him.

"W-Wait just a m-!" Arthur would shout, chasing him down the halls of the wide building.

"WAH! NONONO, GO AWAY SCARY EYEBROW MAN!" Italy would scream in response, waving a white flag behind him.

Arthur had finally cornered him against a wooden door, small huffs of breathe escaping him. Why did everyone think he was mean? Sighing a bit sadly in his mind, Arthur straightened up. Italy trembled, brown curl freezing in the hair like a cat. Oh dio! What if he tried to murder him!? He clenched his eyes tight.

"Uh, h-here." He muttered, shoving the cookbook to the man.

Sadly Italy was so surprised that he ended up falling backwards, opening the door. Arthur of course was shocked and leaned forward to grab an arm, but he too ended up being dragged forward.

Somehow the door closed behind the two as they fell and it appeared it had been a broken door. Arthur and Italy were stuck.

Which brings us to the shaking Brit holding for dear life onto a clueless Italian.

Nononono, it was dark, so dark. He could feel the air slowly stop flowing into him, those cruel eyes staring into him mockingly, nooooo.

"T-To dark…to dark…." Did he whisper or whimper?

He couldn't tell, and frankly it didn't matter. Were the walls closing in on him? Arthur squeaked, his breath growing shorter and fainter. It was hard to breath, why couldn't he breath, HE NEEDED TO BREATH.

"Batti, batti le manine che arriva papa con tanti biscottini che Inghilterra mangerá~" What…was that?

A soft voice hummed and sang while slender fingers ran through messy blond hair. Feli was not the smartest nation. But that didn't mean he was stupid, that he was weak, or innocent to the world. Italy was quite compassionate and even if he disliked the person, he was a firm believer that no one deserved to be in pain.

It was a silly rhyme for little kids, but it sounded soothing and Italy was pretty sure England wouldn't care about the words.

"Ve~It's okay England! You're not alone, I'mma here with you and someone will come by soon!" With a bright smile, he continued to sooth the trembling man. "I didn't think you were afraid of places like this ve~Ah! I'll make you some pasta to cheer you up later. See, I got this new cook..book?"

Aw where was it? Italy pouted, unhappy that he had already lost it. Ludwig had picked it out for especially for him!

"…Here…" A shaky whisper had him peering down at the nation on his lap.

Oh?

"VE~! MY BOOK!" He chirped happily, gently taking the book from him.

So Mr. Caterpillar had it! But why would England have his book? Unless…

"I'm such a dummy." Italy cried, frowning at himself, "You were trying to return this to me. Sorry Mr. England. You're just kinda scary looking and I thought you were going to hit me!"

"M'used to it…" Arthur mumbled, shakily taking a breath.

It was still too dark and small for him. Britain was reminded of miserable and painful times. Times he'd rather forget and bury. He shuddered and buried his face against Italy. Bloody hell, now he was crying. God. Fucking. Dammit.

"A-Ah no don't cry fuzzy!" How do you take care of a crying and scared England? "Um, ah, ve! How about another rhyme?"

Feli rocked carefully back and forth, murmuring a lullaby. He hoped it worked, seeing England so distressed was...it made him feel funny.

"Fa la ninna, fa la nanna, nella braccia della mamma, fa la ninna bel bambin, fa la nanna bambin bel, fa la ninna, fa la nanna…" Oh good! Inghilterra was starting to stop shaking. "Nella braccia della mamma~."

Italy paused his rocking and looked down at his companion. Ve~! He wasn't so scary looking asleep. In fact, Britain looked adorable!

"I think you're very nice England~!" Cooing over him, the upbeat man leaned against a shelf.

Feliciano idly wondered if they were in a janitor's closet or storage closet. He sighed hoping they'd hear someone soon after all they didn't want to be stuck here forever. A glance at England made him frown worriedly. Italy definitely didn't want the small man trapped in here much longer, and why exactly was he so afraid anyways? Ve, he promised himself to never give whoever made England so afraid any of his pasta!

Running his fingers through the soft silky hair, that made him rather curious what shampoo England used, Italy glanced downwards again.

"Ve~You're not a fuzzy caterpillar...You're a coniglio birichino~!" Giggling quietly, Feli hugged him closely and leaned his head backwards.

Italy yawned with a pop, closed his sleepy eyes, and fell into a pleasant sleep.


Erm, was this good? I hope so. Angel Pair is one of my OTPs. IT NEEDS MORE LOVE.

I hope the italian was right, I used a website and google for them.

This may be a two shot. Maybe. I dunno.

Notes:

Coniglio Birichino: fluffy bunny

Fa la ninna, fa la nanna, Nella braccia della mamma, Fa la ninna bel bambin, Fa la nanna bambin bel, Fa la ninna, fa la nanna, Nella braccia della mamma: Go to sleep, go to sleepy, In the arms of your mother, Go to sleep, lovely child, Go to sleepy, child so lovely, Go to sleep, go to sleepy, In the arms of your mother.

Batti, batti le manine che arriva papa con tanti biscottini che Inghilterra mangerá: Clap, clap your hands, Daddy's coming soon, With a lot of cookies, That England will eat.

Dio: God