WOW! This got a surprising amount of favorites and follows! Awww it makes me so happy! :) Thank you guys! Because of this I decided to update quickly and hopefully you guys won't be disappointed. Please enjoy! :D

I don't own Hetalia... *cries in corner* (but I did watch the most recent episode... Maid kitty Germany and Playboy bunny Prussia FTW!)

Prussia stood on the back patio; he leaned against the side of the house, beer and binoculars in hand, as he watched the two 'lovebirds' have their picnic. He loved spying and every once in a while he held his binoculars up over his head so his beloved Gilbird could get a good view. He heard his small companion let out a low whistle and hastily pressed the binoculars back to his face; he gasped in shock.

"Are they going to… kiss?" He whispered. "Gilbird! They're gonna kiss!" he stepped further out on the patio and leaned as far over the railing as he could in sheer anticipation. "Kesesesesese I think they are cute together! Don't you?" Gilbert chirped in agreement and nudged against his masters shoulder impatiently. "Fine, but quickly!" He held out the binoculars for Gilbird. "He's my bruder and I'm gonna be the one to see his first kiss! Damn it! I should have made popcorn!"

He pushed the magnification device of awesomeness (as he called it) back up to his face as he saw them slowly inch towards each other in sweet sweet love. Just as their lips were about to touch Germany quickly lurched backwards and the moment was easily destroyed.

"Nein!" Prussia shrieked and threw his binoculars down to the ground in fury. "Germany you pussy! You need to be a man!" The awesome moment had been wrecked beyond repair and he knew they wouldn't be kissing anytime soon. "Let's go back to that awkward flirty friendship thing that absolutely no one understands shall we?!" He hissed sarcastically before practically chugging the rest of his beer in dissatisfaction.

"Come on Gilbird! I waited out here for freaking half an hour for nothing! I'm going to bed!" He huffed and marched back into the house with the little yellow bird perched atop his head. "West will never hear the end of it! I swear! What an Arschloch!" He muttered as he walked back inside, away from the totally unawesome sight.


Italy woke up to the sound of birds chirping and a light breeze softly rustling the trees. He felt a light throbbing sensation as the hangover made its presence known and the Italian moaned lightly in discomfort. He was half expecting to see Germany over him, tall and brooding and was surprised to see him still fast asleep, curled up in the blankets next to him. He was lightly snoring and his mussed hair covered his closed eyelids. Italy sighed at the sight of him still debating whether or not he should stay there and cuddle with the unconscious German or run and hide in shame.

In the end, Italy decided the only logical thing to do in this situation (any situation really) was to get up and make pasta. Yes, maybe a little bit of gluttonous eating would help him cope with his overwhelming embarrassment. He stood up slowly, careful to not wake the sleeping German and instantly he was hit with a wave of nausea. He felt dizzy and with nothing to grab onto for support it was a miracle he didn't go tumbling back into his makeshift bed. He stood there for a second trying to regain his bearings and immediately felt that something was definitely not right.

He went to press his hand against his forehead and something caught his attention. His fingers were longer and more slender; his normally chewed down nails were long and rounded. He held up both hands in disbelief, gaping in shock. The sudden movement of both arms caused the jacket he was wearing to slowly slip down over one of his shoulders and he quickly grabbed it before it could slide off of him completely. His fingers brushed over something soft and once the jacket was secure he inspected it further. He reached up by his collarbone and the same soft material rubbed gently against his fingertips. He gripped the stuff gently and tugged downwards feeling his scalp sting in protest. This stuff was attached to his scalp? Sure enough when he finally found the courage to look down he saw the same red-tinged brunette stands of his own hair forming long and delicate curls down to his elbows.

"Eeeeekk!" He yelped and nearly shoved his manicured nails down his throat in a pathetic attempt at silence. He looked over at Germany and noticed him shift slightly as he began to wake, obviously disturbed by Italy's squeal. He took no time in backing away from the muscular blonde and as soon as he was a good distance away he whipped around and sprinted as fast as he could back to the house. He felt something on his chest, heavy and weighted, bounce up and down with every step and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, not liking the odd sensation.

As soon as his bare feet met the cool wooden floor of the house he spun around and slammed the door roughly as if would provide protection from the friend/ex-friend/crush person he wanted so desperately to avoid. He leaned against the cold metal doorknob for a few seconds and then let his body slowly slide to the floor; he began to cry, feeling all the shock, sadness and desperation hit him at once. What the hell was happening to him? And what the hell was Germany going to say?

"Good morning Italy!" There was the sound of shuffling nearby and Prussia's voice wafted through the air along with the delicious smell of food. "Ha! Hungary thinks she's so special because she can wield a skillet? Well I'll tell you something! I can do it too! And with much more style!" The tall German rounded the corner laughing, holding a steaming pan of food. "Anyways, I was wondering if you were okay. I kinda saw what happened last night and…" The skillet slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a clatter, spewing scrambled eggs all across the wood. His eyes widened in shock.

"Uh…?" He stuttered. "Can I help you?" His eyes immediately went down to his spilled breakfast and he quickly and embarrassingly knelt down to clean up his mess. "Umm I-I'm sorry!" he stammered quickly and red began to creep across his cheeks. "I thought you were someone else." Italy just sat there eyeing Prussia in disbelief. Why didn't he recognize him? Why was he acting so funny?

"Do you need me to call someone? Umm why are you here? Don't be scared please! I have albinism that's all!" He rubbed his red eyes nervously. "Please just tell me what's wrong and why you're in my house!? Sorry that was rude of me! Oh Gott I'm sorry!" Prussia was panicking and Italy took this as a cue to freak out. He quickly hopped to his feet, feeling daintier than normal, and let the jacket he was wearing fall heavily to the floor. Prussia stopped blabbering and looked at Italy intently. "Miss?" he asked cautiously.

"Please don't tell him…" Italy whimpered and Prussia cocked his head in curiosity.

"What?" Gilbert asked, obviously confused and flustered.

"Germany will hate me forever! Don't tell him!" And with that he rushed past Prussia who was fortunately too stunned to do anything but stand there; he ran to the nearest bathroom quickly locking the door and, to much relief, no one pursued him. He sat there for a moment facing the white door in uncertainty; he was afraid to turn around and look in the mirror. What would he see? Was he ugly? Was he a monster? What else could make Prussia react so adversely?

After a few more torturous moments curiosity seemed to take over and he slowly faced the reflective surface, not knowing what to expect but knowing that he was positively terrified.

He found himself face to face with a familiar yet foreign individual. It was himself, he was sure of it, but at the same time it was someone completely different. His cheek bones were higher and his eyes large and round. He once again saw the long wavy hair and looking over his face he noticed that his nose was slightly smaller and his lips were large and pouty and… feminine.

He unbuttoned the top of his shirt carefully and much to his surprise instead of his normal flat chest, two large mounds of flesh smooshed tightly against the fabric, creating an unnecessary amount of cleavage; just the sight made him blush uncontrollably and he quickly looked away.

How is this possible?! He screamed at himself. He poked at his chest curiously; they were still there. He didn't even want to check his other… unmentionable places and just sat there poking at his breasts, dumbfounded by the sudden change of events.


The back door quickly opened followed by a tall and rather intimidating German.

"Italy! I really need to talk to you!" He called out before stepping into the house. "Italy?" He shut the door firmly and was met with the shocked and almost traumatized face of his older brother. Prussia was holding Germany's coat and his crimson eyes flicked up and widened as he muttered unintelligible words. It was so unlike Prussia, and the sight of him not making some kind of snarky remark made the blonde uneasy. Germany noticed the coat in Gilbert's hands was the one Italy had been wearing and cleared his throat.

"Where is—"Prussia's finger shot up, pointing to the bathroom door before Germany could even finish his sentence. He quickly marched over and knocked loudly. "Italy, I need to talk to you… about last night… please?" His memory of last night was marred by the alcohol and his throbbing headache, but even then he remembered the almost kiss that he so idiotically ruined. Of course he was the one to destroy their night! If he hadn't of fallen asleep he knew he would have seen a depressed, crying, brokenhearted Italian. The least he could do was apologize.

"Please… Just go away…" The four words made Germany's heart sink and he slouched heavily against the wooden barrier. Italy's voice sounded weird… forced… like he was trying to sound more masculine and mature. Is this what he wants? Germany thought dejectedly to himself… To make me feel inferior?

"Listen, I'm sorry…" He whispered, trying to hide the sound of desperation. He knew Italy was unpredictable; some days you could simply say the word pasta and he would cheer right up and others it would take all day to convince him that he wasn't hated. "About last night… I shouldn't have acted like that," He murmured. "Come out please…?"

"Oh… It's not that…" Italy muttered catching Germany off guard.

"Well what is it!?" Germany demanded, his usual impatience getting the best of him.

"It's… nothing…" In the hundreds of years Germany had been alive he couldn't recall a worse lie. It was sad, drawn out, and pathetic in every way. He gritted his teeth; if someone had the audacity to lie to him directly they might as well make it believable! He tried a new approach.

"Italy! If you don't open the damn door and get your ass out here immediately, you are going to be running laps until your feet begin to bleed! Do you hear me?!" He heard a soft whimper.

"But Germany will hate me forever…" Italy sniveled.

"Why would I hate you? I have absolutely no reason to hate you," Germany sighed.

"Germany won't want to be my friend anymore…" Germany heard the sound of quiet sobbing.

"I made a promise. Don't you remember?" Germany sighed, turning his body around and pressing his back against the door. "Italy, don't you remember what I said?" He heard Italy slide to the ground and slowly let his own knees buckle as his body gradually slid down to Italy's level. "Italy?" He turned and tapped on the door lightly with his finger. "What did I say?" His loud and gruff voice turned into a gentle murmur.

"…That… we could be best friends forever," Italy whispered.

"That's right… And do you think I have been with you for almost an entire century because I hate you?"

"No…"

"So why would you ever think I would hate you?" He pressed his palms lightly against the door. Getting no response he inched forward until his forehead met the cold wooden surface. "Please come out Italy…"

"Would you still like me if I was ugly?" He whimpered and Germany felt like the Italian was toying with him.

"Even if you were the ugliest person in the world," he huffed slightly annoyed with the ridiculous question. He felt the door begin to press against him and pulled away, thankful that Italy was finally coming out. It opened an inch and then stopped; all the German wanted to do was rip the door off its hinges but refrained. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised by his own collectiveness. Italy's making me soft, he muttered to himself.

Germany stood up and waited for Italy to open the door. He heard the Italian start to cry and cocked his head to the side.

"Italy what is it?" he asked sincerely.

"I'm scared…" Italy whimpered and Germany wondered if something serious was actually happening.

"I'm here for a reason Italy," He said lightly. "I want to help you, but you have to let me…"

"But… but…" Italy sobbed loudly and Germany realized something was wrong indeed. Italy gave up with the forced and pathetic deep voice, and let his high shrill cries reverberate off of the walls. This wouldn't have bothered Germany, well it bothered him to hear Italy so upset but it was such a common occurrence that it was almost normality; the thing that bothered Germany was that it sounded absolutely nothing like Italy. What the hell is going on?!

Before Italy could stop him, Germany gripped the door knob and yanked it roughly out of the Italian's grasp. He opened the door to perhaps the most beautiful young women he had ever seen, standing there before him helpless and afraid. Her head was tilted down and one arm was wrapped around herself tightly, trying to find comfort where none exists. Her free hand was still reached out as she had yet to register that the doorknob was no longer in her slender and delicate fingers.

"Italy…?" Germany gasped and the women flinched before her large eyes flicked upwards to meet his; they were the most brilliant amber, matching Italy's perfectly, and glinted and quivered as tears escaped over her long lashes.

"G-Germany?" She whispered, her voice so smooth and lovely, the one simple word sounding almost musical to Germany's ears. She brushed the long soft strands of hair out of her eyes and the curl, that curl, still stood out to the left of her head. Italy's clothes hung off of her loosely and he immediately noticed her large chest, the substantial amount of cleavage making Germany quickly look down at her slender waist instead, trying to hide his nervousness.

All he could do was stand there and stare. He didn't know how to react; how do you react in this situation? He wanted to pull Italy close and comfort her, but didn't know how she would react. Would she think he was coming onto her? But if he didn't do anything wouldn't she think he hated her? Damn he was so confused. He didn't even know how to feel; shocked? Yes. Nervous? Extremely. Confused. Hell yes. Sad? He wished he knew the answer.

"You hate me don't you?" Italy whispered and Germany realized that man or women, breasts or no breasts, it still was his little Italian. Italy began to sob, snapping Germany out of his daze as he stepped forward and awkwardly, oh so awkwardly, leant in to comfort the Italian. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and she pushed her face into his chest, letting her tears soak into his black tank top. She returned his tight embrace and began to whimper.

"Shhh, it's okay…" Ludwig rested his chin delicately on top of Italy's head and brushed through her soft hair with his fingers. "Don't cry… Come on now… you're a soldier aren't you?" She pulled away and looked up at him nodding slowly; Germany wiped the tears away from her face gently. "We're are going to get through this together, you hear me? Don't you dare think I'm going to let you deal with this on your own." He saw her lips turn up in a sad and forced smile and she nodded again. "Ja?" He asked, wanting so desperately for Italy to just say something, anything to let him know he was doing and saying the right thing.

"Si," She whispered before adding. "Germany is being nice to me today… Grazi," the sound of her voice making his heart beat twice as fast.

"Let me make you something to eat," He murmured trying to sound normal, for Italy's sake; perhaps if he stayed calm the Italian would stop crying and relax a little bit.

"Si," Italy whispered but didn't let go. Germany slowly reached down and grabbed her leg before gently lifting her up until she was cradled in his arms. He began to walk towards the kitchen, for once in his life he ignored the mess of food splattered across the floor, and set Italy down at the dinner table.

"I'm going to make you some pasta, okay?" he asked and she nodded, smiling a little more naturally. Germany quickly walked over to the kitchen and began digging around for a pot still trying to deal with his own emotions. When he found the one he was looking for he glanced up to see Italy had moved from the table to the counter and she sat over him, watching him intently. He got up and set the pot down looking at her thoughtfully, as it was difficult to take his eyes away from all of her new and feminine features. Before he could stop himself he leaned over and gripped the top of Italy's shirt roughly before buttoning it up and hiding her large breasts from view. She laughed at his nervousness and he felt his insides melt. Why did she have to be so Goddamn beautiful?

He felt like it was going to be a long day.

So we a have a shocked Prussian, a confused German, and a traumatized Italian... Good God what a combination.

And a sexually confused, always-been-awkward-around-women Germany trying to comfort a beautiful, big-boobed, female Italy. What could possibly go wrong? XD

Please tell me what you think! I know this idea has been used quite a bit but its so cute and fluffy and there are so many ways you can go with it! ^^