Chapter 2: The Second and Third HeadCanons
Russia and Germany's Drinking Contests
HeadCanons:
HeadCanon Two;
Russia and Germany are very strong drinkers. They have drinking contests from time to time, and normal you can't tell who wins, with them being even.
HeadCanon Three;
Germany underwent a small personality change after WW2. (Started drinking more and earlier, Italy was around more to keep him sane, he rarely trusted anyone anymore.) Because of this, he has trust issues, only trusting Italy and his brother.
And, in turn, Italy began developing a not so happy-go-lucky side to his personality.
Characters:
Russia, Germany, Lithuania, and N. Italy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
A/N:
I wrote this one on the way home, I hope you guys like it! And I apologize for any OOCness, I haven't exactly figured Germany and Italy's personalities and actions. And in this, you see, one of my headcanons is that Italy does have a serious side. It only shows on rare occasions under certain conditions, though.
And I guess you can say Ivan is a little bit of an asshole in this one. . . like, really mean, I guess you could say.
And, some GerIta.
Edit:
This chapter has been edited, and expect the next two chapters to be updated soon.
Liet hated going to these, but he had to anyway. After all, he had to live up to his title as Russia's Lapdog. And, on the unfortunate fate that Russia got completely smashed, someone had to drive him home.
Italy attended for the same reasons, being Germany's puppy (and disciple), as well as the Blond's ride. (God have mercy on Germany.)
The Puppy and the Lapdog sat a table beside the bar, watching their respective nation. After laying down their Euros, paying for 20 mugs of beer and 20 bottles of vodka. The Bartender brought Germany various alcohols, and Russia, different vodkas they had in the back. (The bartender long since grew used to these contests by now.)
Gulp after gulp of alcohols, until they decided that glasses did them no good. Eventually, Russia drunk straight from the bottle, and Germany downed mugs of beer. Anyone who hadn't already seen one of their contests, felt intimidated and entertained by this, but drinking like this was the norm for the two nations.
By the time Germany had twelve empty mugs, and Russia had 13 empty bottles, Germany starting to ware down, already mumbling, and Russia, Liet decided, was struggling to keep his smile and calm voice.
"You know what- we've done these before- and it's alvays the same." Germany mumbled, setting down another finished mug.
"I always win, da? I makes me wonder why you try." Russia replied sweetly, taking another swig of vodka, and setting it down.
"Because- I let you win." The German shot back, bitterly.
"What did you say, Germany?"
Lithuania flinched- he knew Russia heard the German's words, and the Slavic was merely daring Germany to repeat himself.
"I said," Germany started, his hand grabbing the handle of another glass that the bartender had set down seconds before. He took a gulp of the liquid, before turning to the other nation. "I let you win."
"And vhy is that?"
Lithuania glanced over to Russia. He could see the slightest bit of anger and disappointment twitch onto the Russian's still smiling face.
"Because, Italy thinks that if you lose, you'll flip your scheiße."
Lithuania leaned back, rooted to the chair, as the air grew stern and danger radiated off Russia.
It was serious now.
Russia was going to do everything in his power to prove his dominance of alcohol over Germany.
Russia's gaze went to the Italian, and he in turn, ran behind Lithuiana, shaking, fear running into his voice. "Nononono! Not my idea, Germany is drunk, si? Germany says many crazy things when he drunk! Ha ha ha. . ."
Russia's gaze flipped back to Germany, and his grin widened. "If that is case," the large nation slid his bottle of Smirnoff over in front of the blond, and slid Germany's beer to himself. "Then we change tables, da? You Germans can't handle my drink, so I heard. Or you may like it, since one of ingredients is potatoes."
Germany stopped pouring the vodka into a used mug, setting it down with a clank. Blue eyes now stared at the Russian. "Is that a ficken stereotype?"
"Da."
Germany obviously seemed annoyed and his next words were laced with contempt. "Hope you can handle Eisbock. The alcohol content is," Germany paused, as if struggling to think, rubbing his temples, and set his hand back down. "I don't remember."
"Doitsu. . ."
Liet's eyes flashed over to Italy, who had decided to poke his head out from behind the him.
"You told me it had at least nine to thirteen percent. Stronger than some of my wines! And that one time you got drunk and couldn't hold down my wine, you were-"
"What he said." Germany mumbled, gesturing to the Italian, and shushing him at the same time.
"All the more exciting." Russia said back simply, taking the mug and lifting it to his lips, taking a few gulps before setting it back down. By the way Russia's breath exasperated, and he stuck out his tongue, Lithuania could tell he didn't fancy the taste of German Beer. "You still haven't taken your shot of Smirnoff. If you can finish a whole bottle, we can bring out the real alcohol, da?"
"What do you mean can, Russland? Ich werede es zu beenden!"
Without another second of hesitation, Germany took his mug, gulping it down. Then grabbing the still half-full bottle of Smirnoff. Italy backed away and went to his seat across from the Baltic, watching the two men from the table. As Germany proceeded to chug down the remains of the vodka, Italy grew more and more worried with each gulp.
"Hey Italy," Lithuania began, already feeling uneasy himself, as Russia started to gulp the Eisbock. He desperately hoped Russia wouldn't get absolutely drunk tonight, because Drunk Russia posed a threat and a danger to everyone around him. Drunk Russia could be described as temperamental, violent, dominate, and he prayed Russia had forgotten his pipe at home.
Although, Drunk Russia could be funny time to time.
("America thinks he is sooo special! He talks about how it was sooo bad for him when Britain owned him! You know what I think of that? Child's play! He had it easy! When I was going up, I was bombarded with invasions! You know what else? Growing up, my only friend was a yak! Least people wanted him around!")
"Ve?"
"What's Germany like, when he's drunk?"
"Oh, Doitsu? Well. . ." Italy touched his chin in thought, a small smile appearing on the Italian's features. "Drunk Germany is very different from Sober Germany!" Liet quickly noted how the Italian referred to it as two different people. "Drunk Germany is very talkative. It makes me wish I knew German, because Drunk Germany doesn't know how to speak English,so it's all confusing and we can't talk to eachother. And normally- Drunk Germany starts sounding like he's mad and throws fits for about twenty minutes, and I leave the room. Because Sober Germany doesn't want anything to happen to me!"
Liet noticed that Italy spoke of it as a routine, and like he had done it many times. "And after that, I go back in to check on him, but I don't go in if he's still mad. If he isn't- he starts getting all sad, and starts hugging me and petting my hair- and he sounds a lot like he's confessing and being sad over things. One of the things I like about Drunk Germany is that he's more open and touchy-feely."
Liet raised an eyebrow. "When you're saying the touchy-feely, do you mean that, or. . . ?"
"Hm?" Italy's head cocked in confusion, but then straightened up in understanding. "Oh, oh, nononono, not like that. That's why I don't go near Drunk Germany when he's mad. He just is really huggy and cuddly and clinging like a cute kitty cat!" The Italian paused, smiling. "And I never know what he's saying, but he always says one sentence every time he gets drunk, and I wish I knew what it meant."
Liet felt as if there was something he wasn't saying, but he decided to ignore it. "What does he say?"
"Umm, I might be saying this wrong, he says, 'Ich liebe dich.'"
While Liet's German tended to be a little rusty, he knew what that meant. Before he could translate and tell Italy, the Italian had continued his story. "And then he just does that for a while, and he ends up falling asleep like that. With me in his arms, and all. It's so cute- I wish Sober Germany would do that."
"Why do you say that?" Liet questioned, putting an elbow on the table, and holding up his head in his palm. Italy opened his mouth, about to answer, until interrupted by an angered German yell.
"But I drank it all!"
Germany had finished the once half-full bottle, only for Russia set down another bottle in front of the German.
"Tsk, Tsk, Germany. Or would you prefer Doitsu?" Both Germany and Italy flinched at this, the Italian emitting a small whimper, while the German grew stern, and pointing a finger at the Russian. "You. Russland. May not call me that."
"Ya budu nazyvat' vas, chto mne nravitsya, vy pedik." Russia replied in a smug tone. Liet's eyes widened, as the Salvic continued, switching back into English. "You drank the half left in the bottle. I said drink a full bottle. Drink half of this, and I drink your Eisbock, and we can go get the real alcohol."
Leit shivered.
Turning their attention away from them again, Italy answered him. "Sober Germany is more closed in and confined. He rarely smiles anymore- you know, actually smile." The Italian paused, glancing at the German, trying to take in half a bottle of vodka, then back at Liet. "After World War Two, he really wasn't the same. So ashamed of himself and he so tormented and confused. . . Germany's home became very scary in the first few months after the war. I wanted more than anything to take him back to my place, eat, sleep, and go to bed, all smiles and happy. But Germany, he insisted that he stayed and helped out, despite how much it hurt him. His people were crying and scared, so Sober Germany was the same way."
"So why did you stick beside him? I mean- what kinda things were so scary over there?"
"I stuck beside him because I care about him." The words struck the Baltic, almost surprised. Italy, cared about Germany? Like, best friends?
Or, something else?
"And well, some of the scary things, like, the Berlin Zoo had been bombed. all the animals would be dead. Either from bombings or from the fact they couldn't escape, and they would starve to death. I remember, seeing giraffes and elephants and horses, dead and sad looking. And like the buildings? They were washing bricks and passing them down in a line, trying to rebuild. Sometimes," Italy began to frown. "They would walk into homes, and the entire family would be dead. All dead from suicide. A lot of people thought death would be better than what was happening."
Italy's kind gaze rested on the Baltic, and Liet could tell the Italian wanted to avoid speaking anymore of the touchy subject. "So, what is Drunk Russia like, Lithuania?"
"Drunk Russia? Well-" Liet, mouth parted, about to tell how Ivan was a moody and violent when he drunk, until he felt the kind and violet eyes of Russia land on him. Toris didn't even have to look back at the larger nation to confirm it, he just knew Russia's gaze was on him.
Well he couldn't tell the truth now, could he?
"Russia- Russia is actually a very calm drunk. I mean- when he is with the intoxication, you can hardly tell. He acts like he normally does."
He felt Russia's gaze turn away, and Liet hoped he had said the right thing.
"You say he act almost as he normally does, do you mean he's really drunk all the time?"
The gaze locked upon h him again. "W- Well, no, of course not. Russia isn't always drunk. . . I mean- it's not like he's a scary drunk- he acts so when he. . ." No no no! Those were the wrong words! Russia was
going to get him now! Oh- uh- "R- Russia is a very kind person, once you get to know him."
Thankfully, any further questions were stopped as Germany set down a half empty bottle with a knock on the wood of the bar.
"I'm barely impressed, Germany. You know- I had a drinking contest with Gilbert once. And I have to say, I'm ashamed. He is a stronger drinker than you, apparently. He was able to down at least a case of Vodka, and not sway." Russia clapped his hands together, gaze landing on his lapdog again. "Litva, go and get the Swedish Vodka out of the car, da?" Lithuania didn't hesitate, and went out to get the strongest Vodka Russia owned. He came back minutes later, setting the Swedish bottle between the two men. He, about to go back and sit next to Italy, but stopped dead in his tracks as a clumsy and icey hand gripped his shoulder. "Litva. I did not say you could go back and sit. Look at me." Liet did and about face, his eyes on the larger nation, and trembling.
He wanted to put some distance between himself and the two drunks.
"This is the strongest vodka I own, Sweden sent it to me for my birthday. It's called Voditxka Cannabis. It's alcohol content is over eighty percent. Now, Germaniya, what did you bring?"
"Cocoroco."
Russia laughed at the German's response, "Oh, come on Germaniya. The only person who has that is Denmark."
Germany grumbled, and his next words, barely audible to Liet's ears, made Italy straighten up and look at Germany uncertainly. Even Russia's eyebrows twitched in the slightest curiousity.
"Germany, you can't be serious- I mean- last time you tried that, you started-"
"Shut up, Italy." The Italian shuffled, and Liet expected that the German started morphing into the 'Drunk Germany' Italy talked about.
"What beer is he talking about?" Liet asked, his gaze directing to Italy.
"Snake Venom."
Liet now took a turn to look at Germany uncertainly. The beer, widely known for being the World's Strongest Beer, with a 67.5% alcohol level. It even made some of Russia's favored Vodkas cower in fear.
"I doubt you can handle it, Russland." Germany said, an ambitious and almost clouded look in his eye.
Germany, daring the Russian, trying to get an upper hand, trying to win.
"Oh, how cute." Russia's responded, smiling as he always did, a hint of triumph in his voice, as if he had already won.
"Italy. Go and get it. It's in the the back." With a nod, the Italian dashed out of the bar, and long before now, everyone watched the four men like they were a show. They both had that ferocious and clouded look In their eyes, wanting one to fall unconscious before he did. Liet just wanted this to be over with and wished he could go sit back down.
The bar went deathly quiet as Italy walked back in, the green-labelled bottle in his hand. The Italian backed away as he set the beer next to the vodka, and went and sat back down. Russia dismissed his lapdog with a flick of his hand, and Liet went to sit by Italy.
The Bartender sat down four empty shot glasses, and the nations filled two shots with the alcohol they had bought.
"If the shot doesn't knock you onto floor, Germaniya, then you drink straight from bottle. And I do the same."
The blond nodded hazily, accepting the Russian's terms. "And if I win," Italy dashed up, from his seat, grabbing Germany's shoulder. The drunken nation shook him off- staring into violet eyes. "I get your Hündin."
That caught Liet's attention, and the Baltic scanned and analyzed his master's face, trying to tell how drunk he may be. Trying to measure his chances, as well as how safe everyone else in the bar was.
He also set aside his annoyance for what Drunk Germany just called him.
Russia's smile faded, and the smallest glare danced onto his face, and the air around him became thick with hate. Ivan leaned forward, his gaze landing on the Italian, who failed at trying to cease Germany's rashness. Ivan glanced back at the blond man sweetly. "Und ich bekomme deine." He replied in German, stern.
Germany seemed to hesitate, almost fighting for what little sense of sober he had left. "Or," Ivan continued, "you give up now, and we all go home. Or, I can have the joy of seeing you unconscious and weak, and I have full access to do as I please to your body. And your little puppy won't do a thing about it. But- I'm sure you're used to it. Especially with what your own soldiers did to other women." *
Germany lurched back, feeling his puppy tug on him and speak in rushed Italian. Something along the lines of, bad idea, raise the white flag and go home before someone got hurt or did something they would regret deeply. The blond looked angered now, his fist clenched, almost thinking of punching the Russia's sweet face. Germany shook his head, staring at the Russian. "Or we just drink and see who passes out first instead of weighing our. . . Friends. . . Lives on the line."
Now that sounded like Sober Germany.
Russia straightened up, smiling. "Da. But- one thing. You ever call my little Litva that again, and it will be more than their lives on the line." The German nodded in understanding, as they both took a shot of the beer and a shot of vodka.
Liet stared at the two, and he could see Russia grab the Swedish Vodka, and tip it into another shot glass, with slowly shaking hands. He took another shot of the vodka, pretending it to be nothing, when he was struggling. Despite the calm appearance, Liet could tell Russia was feeling the effects of the vodka.
Germany's hulking form finally fell unconscious, falling off the stool and hitting the floor with a loud and defeating thump, just as he had been pouring another shot. Italy dashed to his side, taking the beer and setting it back down on the bar counter as the blond man groaned drunkenly. Liet's eyes flashed over to Russia, who didn't disapprove as he went over to the drunken blond.
Despite the fact Russia sat on a stool three feet away, Lithuania could feel his gaze, and the imaginary feeling of someone breathing down his neck.
"I will head to car, Litva. Help Italy with his druzhok, but do not make me wait long." Lithuania could hear the Swedish Vodka being taken away, all with the heavy footsteps that went to a car outside.
Lithuania the lapdog aided the weaker puppy of Italy in dragging the blond man to Italy's car, and buckled him in. The lapdog prayed a moment for Drunk Germany and Italy's driving skills as he shut the passenger door. Italy gave the Baltic a hug before walking to the other side, and glanced down at the unconscious German before looking back up at the Baltic.
"Lithuania, do you know German?"
The Baltic nodded quickly, wanting to get back to Russia before Drunk and Moody Ivan kicked in.
"What does 'Ich liebe dich,' mean?"
The Baltic turned away, already seeing Ivan waiting for him in the passenger seat of the distant car. Lithuania glanced over his shoulder, meeting gazes with Italy for a moment. "Well, my German is a little rusty, maybe you should ask him sometime?" Wait, why did he just do that? He turned around, facing Italy, about to speak again until the feeling of Russia's breath down his neck and his gaze on him rushed to him.
A bad idea to keep Russia waiting.
Without another word, Lithuania went to Russia's car, and saw that the larger nation had just fallen asleep in the passenger seat, and the Baltic drove him home.
German:
Scheiße = shit
Ficken = fucking (when translated as; fucking stereotype.)
Ich werede es zu beenden! = I will finish it!
Hündin = bitch
und ich bekomme deine. = And I get yours.
Russian:
Da = Yes
Ya budu nazyvat' vas, chto mne nravitsya, vy pedik = I will call you what I like, fag.
Германия; pronounced Germaniya = Germany
дружок; Druzhok = Boyfriend
i prefer to use the pronunciation, because it's dialogue. So you should read how it sounds. However, if it was writing, then you would use Cyrillic.
A/N:
Ok, this done mostly with google translate and google search, do if there are any mistakes, please correct me!
The part about the Cocoroco, it's one of the most alcholic drinks around, with about a 96% level.
Also, when Russia mentions to Germany about the women;
A lot of women were raped and killed by soldiers during WW2. If they were found, they would be raped and killed. And some of this even in their own countries. And suicide rates were high that year.
Really horrid stuff, guys.
Um, I think that's about it!
Thanks for reading, please R&R!
* EDIT:
I was very mad with myself when I realized I got my facts wrong.
So, here is the correction;
As it is known, Soviet Soldiers, especially once they conquered Berlin, and then East Germany, they murdered, looted, pillaged, and raped over a million women, ranging from 8 to 80, oftenly more than once.
Along with this, it is suspected that not only did Soviet Troops do this, but American, French, and British as well.
The Next Headcanon:
America Divided; Part 1