So I wanted to have fun with Belarus and Germany, and then boom, another chapter without smut. How the hell did this happen? No idea. (Well, I have some idea. I really like Belarus's character, but she is obsessed with Russia and would never see anyone else, and Russia just wants to be siblings, so no smut for Belarus.)

Anyways I hope you guys had a great New Year. Enjoy

Germany kept his eyes on the empty stretch of road in front of him, not daring to even glance across to Belarus. Belarus in turn gave Germany no attention, and simply stared out of her icy cold window, watching the patterns the raindrops made as they splattered against and cascaded down its length. Shadows elongated, and moved across the inside of the car, in a repetitive, strangely calming fashion as they passed underneath streetlight after streetlight. A gentle soundtrack of ambient keyboards and a light percussion seeped from the speakers, filling the otherwise silent vehicle. Germany knew he should start talking, or better yet, get her to start talking, but... what would he say? It occurred to him that this was one of the few times that it would have been a tactical advantage to have Italy around. He was a babbling lunatic, but he seemed to be able to make friends pretty quickly. Or inadvertently make other people friends by simultaneously turning them against himself. Either way, it would have been nice to have him around. At least he'd be at the house when they got there. Wait.. Italy would be at the house... And then Germany realised something. It didn't really have to be him. Because all Russia wanted was Belarus's attention to shift from himself to someone else. So why couldn't it be Italy? Oh, right. Because Belarus was attracted to power, or so Russia had told him. And Italy was Italy.
"You don't go to the world meetings very often, do you?" Germany asked after a while, simply because he had to start somewhere. Belarus started at the sound of his voice, jumping slightly in her seat, before turning to face him.
"No, I don't. I'm not exactly what you would call an important nation."
"You are not happy with this?"
"Would you be?" Belarus asked, a little bitterly. They lapsed back into silence as Germany considered the question.
"I don't know." He answered honestly, "I would think that I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of things that I have to deal with now if I wasnt such a big nation." He wondered if his current situation would be any different, if he was any less powerful. He thought it likely that he wouldn't be in it, seeing as if he was any less powerful, he might not have been so close to America, and thus he wouldn't have gotten into that bet in the first place.
"Oh? Like what?"
"America, for one." Germany fumbled for an answer that wasn't too close to the truth, but true enough he wouldn't feel bad saying it. After all, he didn't want her to know about the events of the past week, partially just because he didn't want anyone to know about them, but he didn't want to lie to her. Belarus snickered.
"I didn't realise he was that bad to know on a professinal basis."
"He is "bad to know" on any kind of basis.. Do you know him outside of the world meetings?"
"Yes. We share an affinity for the paranormal."
"Really? I thought America was a coward."
"Why would you think that?"
"Japan told me that the last time America came over to watch scary movies with him, he was screaming at the slightest thing."
"Ah. Well he does scream a lot. But he told me they were screams to scare away evil spirits.. I knew he was lying." She swore under her breath.
"Did it work?" Germany asked, with a laugh.
"To his credit, yes, it did. Or at least, if I was possessed by an evil spirit, I was too distracted by his screaming to notice."
"Well, if he made it painless for you, you can only thank him."
"I'll be sure to do that." Belarus smiled hesitantly. She looked up, to see that they were already pulling into Germany's driveway, rolling to a gentle stop before Germany pulled the keys from the ignition.
"Would you like me to get you something to drink, while we wait for your brother?" Germany asked, already hopping out of the car.
"Please." Belarus said, as she followed him inside.

"Oh, let's see. We have coffee, hot chocolate, orange juice, gluhwein... I also have two hundred bottles of vodka." Germany said, as he browsed his kitchen, only to find that several of his cupboards were full to the brim with bottles of the colourless alcohol. Belarus, who was perched on the work-top behind him, lifted an eyebrow at the sight of them.
"They have a group for people who have trouble with their drinking." She murmured.
"Nein, you don't understand. I told Italy to prepare the house for Russia's coming, and it uh. It seems he panicked." He explained, not wanting her to get the wrong impression.
"Ah." Belarus hummed in understanding, "My brother does like vodka. But I do not think even he can drink that much."
"Italy isn't exactly a forward thinker.. Do you want to help him out with it?" Germany chuckled. Belarus smiled slightly, and shook her head.
"I will have the orange juice... So you live with Italy?" She asked. Germany nodded, as he went to the fridge and poured her a glass.
"Ja. He's a little strange, und he is not the brightest of nations, but he's my friend. Having him around, sometimes it feels oddly like having a younger brother." He handed her her glass, before going back over and making himself a drink," Are you hungry?"
"No, thank you." Belarus sipped her juice and watched Germany making himself a coffee. It was funny - she'd never paid him much attention before, but now all she could think was that he was very similar to herself. He was even strangely interesting to talk to, when he wasn't tripping over his own tongue. And he and Italy sounded like a sweet couple.
"Do you love him?" She asked. Germany looked up from the bottle of milk he had been intently staring at, trying to work out if it was still in-date, and realised he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Who?"
"Italy." Obviously, Belarus thought.
"Why do you ask?" He frowned at her in a somewhat suspicious manner. Why would she care what he felt for Italy?
"Curiosity. Why do you avoid my question?" Belarus asked, again staring at him with that disdainful look.
"I didn't.. Okay, yes. Like I said, he's my friend." Germany admitted with a weary smile, before tossing the milk into the bin.
"And I suppose I'm forbidden from telling him this?"
"Oh, he already knows. He wouldn't keep climbing into my bed if he didn't." Germany muttered to himself, before he realised how that sounded. He meant to explain it.. but then he realised he didn't actually have an explanation, and the fact was that Italy climbing into his bed simply for comfort and the pleasure of being in his bed probably sounded much gayer than whatever Belarus thought he meant. Luckily, Belarus didn't pick up on it. He must have said it quieter than he'd thought. The kettle came to a boil and he finished making his drink, before turning to Belarus.
"Do you want to go sit down?"

Half an hour later, and Germany had decided that his mission to seduce Belarus had been doomed from the start, and that at most, he and Belarus would end up as friends. Also Russia needed to face his problems instead of pawning them off on unsuspecting prostitutes. So instead of flirting, Germany and Belarus were sat on the sofa in Germany's living room, both curled up under blankets, and sharing horror stories that they both claimed, despite the protests that came from the other, to be true. Germany had just finished a particularly gruesome one about a handsome German man "who was very much like himself", who just so happened to be a cannibal that preyed on young girls, when Belarus scoffed and rolled her eyes.
"One man could not eat that many people so quickly. It's not possible." She protested. Germany sniggered, and shot her his best deranged look.
"Is that a challenge?" He asked in a way that he hoped sounded maniacal. Belarus rolled her eyes at him, smiling despite herself.
"Yes. Yes it is." She told him, somehow keeping a straight face.
"Okay then." Germany finished his drink, and stood up. Belarus watched, bemused, as he solemnly headed out of the room. She heard footsteps running up a flight of stairs, and sounds of doors being opened and closed. Then there was a high pitched scream, and sounds of thumping. Unperturbed, she sat and sipped her juice as she listening to the various disturbing noises coming from the floor above her. A few seconds later, Germany casually strolled back through the door he had exited from, with a struggling Italy tossed over one shoulder.
"GERMANY! GERMANY LET ME GO! WHAT DID I DO WRONG!? GERMANYYYY! IS THIS ABOUT USING YOUR CREDIT CARDS TO BUY ALL THAT VODKA? PLEASE LET ME GO! GERMANY! GERMANYYYYYY~!" Italy yelled, thumping uselessly on Germany's back.
"Italy, be quiet while Belarus and I cook you." Germany ordered, trying to keep Italy balanced on his shoulder and gesture to Belarus to go into the kitchen at the same time. Italy screamed even louder, and struggled against him for a short while, kicking and hitting him, before suddenly going limp. Belarus walked over to him, and poked at his arm. There was no response.
"I think he fainted, Germany."
"Ja, I think so too." Germany gently eased him off his shoulder, and lowered him onto the sofa, "I get the feeling he didn't know we were joking."
"To his credit, I was a little worried myself." Belarus admitted, watching as Germany rolled Italy onto his side, and propped him up with a cushion.
"There is the slight chance I went too far with that one."
"You could be right."

Italy came to much later, groaning slightly, before he remembered what happened and immediately stifled himself. He didn't want either of the other nations to know he was awake, mostly because he was embarrassed about having fainted. He risked a quick glance around the room, only to find it utterly empty. Then he heard the front door slam shut, and his head hit the cushion again, trying to cover his face with the blanket Germany must have draped over him at some point. Approaching footsteps made him quiver with anticipation and terror. Mostly terror. The living room door opened and closed, and someone walked over to him. He quickly realised that someone was Germany. Germany pulled back the blanket to examine Italy.
"You're awake, aren't you?" Germany asked.
"I wish I wasn't." Italy whimpered, trying to shy away from Germany, but having nowhere to move to. Germany let out a breath, and moved away from Italy, holding his hands up as he retreated.
"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice sounding more than a little guilty. Italy glanced down at his own body. He certainly seemed okay. He hopped to his feet and grinned.
"Yeah, I'm okay!" He looked round, and realised the terrifying blonde girl was no longer there, "Hey, where's Belarus?"
"Russia finally showed up. He was pretty shocked that Belarus was waiting for him; I think he really thought I'd be able to do it."
"Is he angry?"
"I don't think so, but I can never tell when Russia's angry or when Russia's just being Russia."
"Yeah, he is pretty scary all the time."
"I feel bad for Belarus though. He wont just tell her he doesn't want to marry her, he always hides and evades. It must be awful. Though you would think she'd have worked it out by now. I mean, she seems pretty smart."
"Oh, she has. But I don't think that matters to her."
"Really? Well that's just wrong... Well, either way, it was basically a night off for me. Russia told me this counted."
"A night of from what, Germany?" Italy asked, nonplussed. Germany opened his mouth, about to tell Italy some lie or other , when he realised that sooner or later, Italy would find out the truth, and A) it'd be better if it came from him, and B) Italy would be incredibly hurt if he found out he had been lied to. Also if he told Italy, neither America nor Britain would get the satisfaction of telling him.
"Okay, Italy, this might take a while. See, America and I were having an argument about Britain and France, and it turned into a bet, and -"
"- Oh, and now you have to be a hooker for the rest of the week otherwise Russia steals your soul away like a stray strand of pasta! Yeah, I knew that. Sorry, I zoned out for a second. So are you coming to bed? Because I'm pretty tired~." Italy's face had reddened to the point that it was the same hue as his famous pasta sauce, but other than that, there were no signs that he was anything other than totally understanding. He walked out of the room, leaving Germany to stare after him. Well that's not something you hear everyday, He thought.