SOY: I decided to post a new chapter of this one before finishing up 'shot of honesty', I hope you like ^^ I am still not sure how many chapters of this one there will be, but you can expect around 5.

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Rating: K+

Warnings: the most you can see is a suggestive image, a lot of magic, and crack.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I do not make money for writing about it, but I do have fun.

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Unspoken Truths

Chapter 02

"Feliciano, your phone is ringing," Germany's eyes were glued on Italy's frame as the Italian moved through the bedroom with only Germany's shirt on.

Since Italy's built was lither than that of the German Nation, the shirt hung loose on his hips, offering an amount of modesty that the Italian man didn't really have or need.

Still, the sight kept Germany's gaze unable to shift away from him, especially when Italy knelt down to retrieve a sock that had somehow ended up underneath the desk; as it was, Germany had no desire to have Italy focus on other things, but the ringing of that phone was irritating.

"Ve~?"

"The phone, Feliciano," he repeated, pressing one hand on his forehead and rubbing it.

Sometimes the Italian Nation's denseness granted to his nerves, yet he couldn't but forgive him for that, if he kept that shirt on for a bit more. Not that he cared.

Or wanted to watch a bit more. Not at all.

"Oh, but I'm searching for my clothes, why don't you answer for me?" Italy wriggled the toes of his naked foot and looked around, hopping on his other leg and giving Germany a nice view of his tights as he did so.

Germany still refused to look away, despite the strong blush.

He groped around on the bed with one hand, still not looking away, and was grateful he hadn't when Italy toppled over on the ground, shirt riding up and leaving his naked ass free to Germany's prying gaze.

Flushing crimson and yet not willing to look away, Germany hummed and finally grabbed the vibrating phone, flickering it open and finally having to steer his attention away from Italy (now kneeling under the bed for his shirt) to look at the screen.

"Feliciano, it's Arthur," Germany looked up, still unsure whether to answer or not.

He noticed Italy stiffening for a split second, but that moment the phone went silent. Italy resurfaced with his shirt in his hands and pouted.

"If he calls again, give me the phone, ve~" Italy revealed his naked front to Germany, still not taking out the bigger shirt, and Germany shut the phone close, leaning forwards to offer it to Italy…

Only to have an armful of Italian, his nose filled with the sweet scent of Italy's shampoo.

"Morning hug, Ludwig!"

Shaking his head to clear it from less than pure thoughts (that he did not have), Germany obliged the other by holding him close, feeling Italy shift until he was sitting on him.

The phone started ringing again, and Italy tried to roll off to answer, but Germany's hands refused to let go.

"Ve~ I have to answer… it might be important, ve~"

Germany snorted –he refused to think that anything involving England could be about pasta or siesta, which seemed to be the only important things for Italy, but let Italy go, berating himself for the silly act of possessiveness.

It was either he turned honest with Italy, or… well, with himself. Neither was going to happen anytime soon.

"Ve~ Arthur?" something passed through Italy's gaze, then he removed the phone from his ear, eyes blinking open. "Arthur, is that the noise of a door breaki– Arthur?"

Germany frowned, feeling a headache coming.

What was the Englishman doing?

"Uh… what… what is happening, Feliciano?" his thoughts coming to a halt, Germany hoisted Italy's body away from his lap, much to Italy's displeasure. "Why would Arthur call you at this time?"

Now that he thought about it, why did England have Italy's phone number? That he knew about, the two didn't have much interaction, and the one they had was mediated by their bosses, or through some other Nation.

Somehow, despite the notion being stupid, Germany found himself offended that England knew and used Italy's number.

Italy looked quite puzzled now, and tilted his head to the side. "I don't know, Ludwig…"

"… is America there with him?" Germany felt a blush touch his cheeks, and fought it valiantly. This was growing quite embarrassing. "Maybe he called you by mistake…"

Italy frowned, looking at the phone with a strange look, but since there was no reply from the other end, he clicked it shut and shrugged.

"Ve~ I'm hungry, can I get my breakfast now?"

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Germany led the way to the kitchen, followed by a still partially naked Italy.

It was shocking how familiar that was to him –a naked Italy sleeping in his bed even now, waking up together, eating together…

"Cornetti alla crema~"

Well, at least it was not pasta.

As Germany gathered up the necessary for a morning coffee, Italy glanced back at his phone, frowning. England only called for two reasons –to bitch about France and to ask for help with… these matters. It was usually the second, though.

Maybe he–

"Feliciano, the milk".

Shrugging, Italy bounced towards the fridge, knowing that if England really needed help, he would call again. No need to worry.

…–…–…–…

England was flying.

And by flying, he didn't mean on a plane. No, that was reserved for the meetings, when he had actually some time to waste.

Not that he didn't like flying with a plane. It was calm. And comfortable. And unless he ended up sitting close to the Frog eater, he even managed to relax enough to not be in a pissed off mood afterwards.

But England didn't have time right now, and he was aware that somewhere back at his house, in London, someone was searching for him.

So, England was flying. On top of a horse.

Not a flying horse, per se. just one of his unicorns.

Well, then, maybe he wasn't flying –he was gliding through the air, because unicorns didn't really fly, either.

Technicalities, yet his brain could only focus on those insignificant, stupid details because if he thought back at what he'd left at home, his head attempted short–circuiting, and that was no good.

He had to keep calm.

He'd been through worse things.

The dragons in China, yes.

And the trolls. You could never forget an army of trolls ready to slice you in small pieces.

Then there was the small little incident with golems –not that he had wanted to create any.

And the Manchester United soccer team. That had been a huge problem…

But no, this was way worse.

When Italy finally picked up the phone, England had barely enough time to whisper a greeting before the door was pulled free from its hinges, and England's biggest mistak… incident since the trolls appeared in its place.

He had managed to get away only barely, but who knew what that… that horror could do without anything to stop him?

Never in his life did he do something as horrifying as that.

England felt a sudden cold sensation flow through his body and turned around, frightened –yet there was nothing behind him. He was flying above the ocean, and in front of him he could already see the coasts of France, so it was impossible that what he had left back home could be there…

Shivering, he patted his unicorn's back, muttering words of encouragement as the unicorn dived down, coming closer to the ground.

"Faster, if you don't mind…" he gently asked whilst the mythical animal grazed the top branches of a tall pine.

The unicorn sped up his fly… his gliding through the air, England blissfully unaware that down below, France had just looked up at the morning sky, ready to start another day of harassing nations (a beautiful, beautiful day), and his brain melted at the sight of England sitting on nothing but air whilst passing through the sky.

France pressed one hand on the wall of his house, and the other against his forehead.

"Oh, mon Dieu… I need to lay off the wine…"

…–…–…–…

"Groceries~ groceries~" Italy bounced happily on the street, moving from one window to the other and waiting for Germany to catch up with him.

The German Nation was moving slowly through the Italian open–air market, glancing at the many fruits and vegetables offered with a look of contemplation, ignoring how various vendors tried to attract his attention, offering him shoes, fishes, cheese or underwear.

He truly couldn't understand how Italy could do it.

"Feliciano, wait for me –don't run!"

Humming, Italy easily ignored Germany's shouts and concentrated on some tomatoes, expertly checking if they were mature enough to be bought –with a nod to the vendor, he also pointed at a few eggplants.

"We don't need those" Germany grunted, already mentally counting the money he would waste. "We can buy an already prepared sauce, and–" he faltered at the affronted glare he received from the Italian, and looked to the side shrugging.

Groceries shopping was quick and painless, despite Germany's fears of losing Italy in the crowd, or having to buy many things they didn't need (nowadays, they never bought things separately, it was always groceries shopping for them both), and he was quite thankful about that…

Until they finally left the last stand, ready to go back home.

Italy was swinging the bags, singing a happy, Italian tune that Germany didn't know, skipping a bit as he walked down the street, then…

"Ve~?"

Germany had been listing the things he needed to do once back home –concentrate on his work, leave Italy to cook, check up on him every now and then to make sure he wasn't burning down the house…– and was startled out from his thoughts by Italy's exclamation.

He glanced at the Italian, who was gawking up at the sky with a slight frown, and also looked upwards, frowning…

And turned pale.

There was England flying.

Well, to be truthful, he wasn't flying. He was sitting on empty air and he was floating down –fast.

Germany promptly looked back down at the ground, taking deep gulps of air as he felt the sting of ulcer pain (stress–induced) made itself known again; closing his eyes, he refused to think about what he had just seen, and instead started his own personal mantra to convince himself that no England had just popped up in midair, floating down towards them.

England couldn't float. On thin air. Definitely not.

"Feliciano!"

"V–ve!" Italy stepped backwards, eyes wide, as England hopped down from the unicorn, making his way towards him "Arth–"

"Thanks God I found you! Your house was empty!"

England allowed relief to wash over him as he grabbed Italy's hands into his own, smiling at the panicking Italian.

"Ve~ I came here for groceries with Ludwig… why did you call? Why are you here?"

Germany's rational mind had in the meanwhile managed to supply a possible explanation to the scene (England had popped around uninvited. Not flying. Not floating. He just walked here from his house, that was all), and was now glaring at the Englishman.

First, he called Italy early in the morning. Then he presented himself searching for Italy, and even hugged him? Germany's left eye twitched, and he fought valiantly against the sudden desire to push the Englishman away from Italy.

Then England screamed the last words Germany had ever thought he would hear from anyone in the world.

"Feliciano! I need your help!"

There was a long pause.

It was so long that geological eras could have been born and died out in the meanwhile. It was so long that Germany had enough time to restart his brain and wonder if he was turning insane.

England. Asking help to Italy.

The world was truly coming to an end?

"Ve~ Arthur, I don't know what you're talking about!" Italy waved his hand around, his smile signalling the Englishman that since there was someone else present, he couldn't talk.

Which was strange, since England was even more cautious than Italy was, with these things.

"No, Feliciano, I'm not kidding! I really need your help! You're the only one who can do this! I'm… bloody hell, I'm not joking!"

Casting an offended glance at England, Italy turned towards Germany, smile turning vaguely strained. "Ve~ he's not making sense, right Ludwig?"

Growling under his breath, England clenched his hold on Italy's hands, making him gasp and try to tug them away. Of course England didn't allow him to. Besides, holding them provided him a bit of reassurance, as Italy's presence regarding magic always did.

"Feliciano, I messed up again!" cheeks burning in shame, he looked to the side. He was never proud of his mistakes, but this one… this one… "come and fix it, or it'll be truly dangerous for everybody!"

Germany cleared his throat, unable to do much else.

He felt like he was in the middle of a badly orchestrated joke…

"You're the only one who can fix him! I tried everything to revert the spell, but I really don't remember what I did! I called out my magic and…" he snapped his fingers "and now you have to help!"

"V–ve~ Arthur, what are you saying? Magic?" despite his attempts at calming England down, Italy couldn't stop himself from looking at the English Nation with a pout.

What the hell was he doing? making Germany, of all people, aware that he was into magic? After all these years trying to hide it?

Every nation knew that England dabbed into magic, whether they chose to believe it existed or not (whether they thought England to be joking or not, too), but Italy had always blissfully remained outside of that. And he liked that status very much, thank you.

"Bollocks! This is not the time to hide! There's a real problem here, and I can't solve it!"

Well, he did look desperate.

Pushing England away from the German nation, Italy glared at him, feeling offended and affronted "Ve~ Arthur! Shut up! Nobody is supposed to know I do this kind of thing!" concluding his angered huff with a slap at England's shoulder, Italy turned towards Germany, ready to go back to him and wave the matter away; he was sure that this could wait.

England shook his head, eyes wide.

"Feliciano!" he grabbed his hand again, making the Italian turn towards him, still vaguely angered. "Undo the spell! I beg of you!"

"Arthur~" glancing at Germany (who was trying his best not to look like he was listening to them, and failing), then back at England, Italy suddenly realised that if the latter had revealed everything without thinking it twice, it meant things were not as simple as he thought them to be.

"… how bad?" he asked, sighing.

"Really bad" England confirmed, shivering. "That's why I came here…"

"Were you attacked, ve~?"

"I was –I had trouble coming here alive, but thankfully Mr. Sparkly here helped out" England patted the unicorn's back, who let out a soft snort.

To Germany, England just patted the air. But Germany wasn't really trying to follow up things at this point. He was merely trying to find a sense (any sense) to it. And failing.

A twitch "wait, you called him Mr. Sparkly? Arthur–"

"T–this is not the time to go into a tirade about names!" cheeks aflame again, England was almost tempted to push the Italian nation away and be done with it, but of course this was not the time for pleasantries of any type.

"Let me… get this straight" Germany just had to reason things out. He just needed to. If nothing made sense anymore, his whole world was ready to collapse on itself. "We all know how you think you're tinkering with magic, Arthur" at the word 'tinkering', England let out an enraged yelp "but… what does that have to do with Feliciano?"

"Feliciano has been 'tinkering with magic', as you put it, just as long as I have!" jutting his nose upwards, England sniffed in disdain. Despite his shame for his own mistakes, he would never back down from defending the Italian nation. "And he is just as good as I am" he helpfully added.

Italy's cheeks flushed red at the compliment, and he fidgeted, muttering a soft 've' sound. "Nobody is supposed to know about that, though" he huffed out, still vaguely angered yet a bit more appeased after the compliment.

Germany's eyes narrowed, yet he pushed down the rage and simply chose to concentrate on the shock of knowing Italy did magic.

He didn't believe in magic, of course. So Italy was just… what? Playing around? With England? Maybe even 'seeing invisible creatures' as well?

The idea of England and Italy sharing something like this made him feel uneasy.

"Feliciano does… magic" he muttered. "I really want to see this".

If he had to make it look like he believed them in order to follow them (not wanting Italy alone with the Englishman!), well, then he'd do it. He really wanted to see what England would invent then.

"V–ve~ but you're not supposed to know that! Nobody is supposed to know!" Italy cried out, clearly disappointed in England's actions.

Germany snorted.

"The world wouldn't believe it, either" he muttered.

England took on an affronted look. "You should all know better!"

"The world isn't ready to know about magic, ve~" Italy looked both oddly serious and terribly antsy. England snorted in agreement, feeling somewhat superior to Germany. "The world doesn't need to know…" a pause "about a lot of things, ve~"

By the way he said it, it was clear that a lot of those things were not as good as it seemed. England also appeared to know about what Italy was saying, because he flushed and fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I didn't really want to destroy Gupta's house whilst researching on his magic" he grumbled under his breath. "Now, will you follow me? I fear what will happen if he remains uncontrolled!"

"He?"

England's cheeks coloured again. "I might have… uh, well, pissed off a Dark Faerie," Italy's eyes turned a shade darker at that "and then I went out to drink with Gilbert and Alfred…"

Italy looked close to slamming his head on a wall –a look that Germany saw as familiar, since he had it all the time when dealing with Italy's own stupidity.

"What happened, Arthur?"

Not answering, England pointed at Mr. Sparkly, waiting for Italy to sit on him. Italy stared at the unicorn dubiously.

He had never really liked riding on them, despite what England himself said…

Italy shook his head and waved one hand around. Snapping his fingers to the side in a practiced way, he looked to the side. "It's better if I get my own ride, Arthur, if it's really that important…"

"I'm coming too" Germany stated, eyes narrowed in determination.

He might not truly believe that England's magic was real, and he might not believe that Italy also knew how to do it (how could that be possible? Italy had to be truly good at hiding things, then), but England's despair looked quite real.

And if there was something dangerous, Germany was the perfect one to sort things out. Whilst at the same time not letting those two alone together. Which was imperative, too.

"No!" England shook his head, despite knowing that maybe brute strength could help keeping the danger at bay until Italy finally solved the problem.

Italy turned towards Germany, and pointed towards the empty air at England's side. "Only if you ride the unicorn, ve~"

"Feliciano, there is no u–"

There was a loud roar, then something flickered into existence at Italy's side. There was no better way to explain it, because one moment there was nothing, and the next a huge, proud lion was crouching low, and Italy was mounting him.

A lion.

Germany blinked, but the image didn't disappear.

A winged lion. Or, a lion with white wings on his back.

"I–impossible!" he yelled.

Germany also had no time to think and rationalise what he saw, because England rushed towards him and pushed him forwards; he found himself hoisted onto thin air, and his eyes turned wide when he realised that there was something invisible and consistent under his chest, which prevented him from falling face–down on the ground, and that it was sailing through the air–

At his side, Italy was already soaring upwards on the back of his winged lion (a part of Germany's mind recognised it as being Venice's own symbol, obviously lacking a book), giggling at his flabbergasted expression.

England snorted, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, stupid German… hold yourself properly, you're hurting my poor Mr. Sparkly".

"Ve! Ludwig cannot see him, Arthur~ he's pulling a Thestral scene!"

"Stop quoting my books, you git!"

Germany closed his eyes. The nausea lessened to an amount –keeping them close so that he wouldn't see he was flying on top of something invisible really helped.

"It would be better to just tell me what happened, ve~" Italy returned his attention to England once he made sure Germany wouldn't fall. "Stop skidding around the matter, ve~"

Wincing, England recomposed himself. Dread filled him once more.

"I did a swap" he finally grumbled out, hoping that the air rushing into their ears would cut him off.

It didn't.

"You did what?"

"I somehow… swapped Natalia's attitude with that of Alfred, ok? Bloody hell!" England gritted his teeth. "Alfred's been trashing my house with a knife, yelling he wants to bloody 'marry' me, and he didn't take my 'no' as a satisfyingly answer".

Silence surrounded him like a blanket. England gulped down his uneasiness and looked onwards, refusing to look at the Italian nation.

"V–v–veeee~?"

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SOY

Cornetti alla crema (Italian) – it's a kind of sweet. A pastry, I mean. Cream–filled pastry. *nodnod*

Mon Dieu (French) – My God.