Chapter 7 - Rot
Silence.
He stared at her as she sipped from her cup and nonchalantly took bites of her slice of cake, acting as if her brother weren't there at all.
"…So what'd you eat?"
"What do you think?"
"…What kind of pasta was it?"
"Bolognese."
"…And then what did you do?"
A shrug. "Walked around."
"Did you sleep with him?"
"Nein."
"Are you sure?"
"I came home, didn't I?"
"Yeah, well…you could've fucked in an alleyway…"
"Bruder…" she growled.
"Okay, fine. But why do I get this feeling that you're lying to me?"
"How about I look you straight in the eye and tell you that I didn't fuck anyone?"
She held her stare for a good moment, allowing Prussia to deem her words truthful.
"…Alright, alright, I believe you," he sighed in defeat.
Germany replied with a single nod of the head as she brought her attention back to her cake and coffee. Unbeknownst to her, Prussia was not quite done with his interrogation yet.
"…Did you kiss him?"
She was in the middle of taking a sip of coffee when Prussia had asked this, causing her to spurt and choke. Prussia just chuckled.
"I knew it..."
She was wiping the leftover coffee and cake crumbs off her mouth with the back of her hand, rouge spreading across her cheeks like wildfire—she was hoping it wouldn't come to this subject. Despite the humiliation his little sister felt, Prussia just laughed it off.
"Kehaha! Ah, I'm just teasing you, baby Schwester," he said, swinging his hand around as if to brush away at the subject. She still refused to look at him, a pout remaining on her blush-ridden face. Prussia hadn't completely stopped giggling immaturely until he noticed his sister fidgeting from across the table—she shifted around in her seat a lot, a look of discomfort evident on her face. Not so much pain, but Prussia could tell that there was something bothering her.
"Hey, you okay over there, West?"
She looked up suddenly. "Oh—y-yeah I'm fine, it's just…I think there's something wrong with my seat, is all," she lied. Prussia's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, but then shrugged it off. Although he was unsuspecting of what was really bothering her, Germany needed an excuse to get him out of her presence quick so as not to bring up any suspicions over what she needed to get done next.
"Bruder…could you go over to Vash's place and order some more spitzers?"
"Huh?" Prussia responded with a raise of an eyebrow, a look of confusion mixed with disgust on his face. "But I just took inventory of our arsenal last week."
"Yeah, well, I had Italy transfer a box full of them into the Kubelwagen after training last week, but he tripped by a creek and a good amount of them fell in there." That was actually true.
Prussia scratched the back of his head. "Even if that were the case, we just recently ordered that batch of spitzers. It's kind of a stretch for him to be able to produce another batch at such short notice..."
"Well, I...guess that's true..." She averted her eyes, trying to conjure up a different excuse that could get him out of the house, but Prussia had decided to go out himself anyway.
"Ah, I'll just go and see if he has some leftovers he's willing to sell to us," he told her as he got up to grab a coat from the coat closet. "And next time, have someone else that's not Italian handle the load—bullets are expensive, you know," he nagged. It's not every day she has her older brother nagging on her like this—aside from his awkward outbursts towards her outfits, a maturely nagging Prussia is a pretty rare feat, but he is serious when it comes to handling weaponry.
"I'm way ahead of you," she replied as he exited the house with a wave of the hand.
Upon hearing the door close, she shot up from her seat and hurried to the bathroom. As much as she wanted to get there as quickly as possible, there was no way she could actually run there considering the kind of state she's in at the moment. Instead, she took awkward and rapid baby steps on the way, trying her best to keep her thighs closed as much as possible. Once she reached the nearest bathroom, she shut the door closed, dropped down the lid on her toilet seat, yanked down her boxers and panties, and sat down. With her thumb and index fingers and a sheer look of disgust, she then carefully picked up the bloodied folds of tissue from her panties and immediately chucked it into the trash bin like it was some hazardous material.
She sighed deeply and quite loudly, leaning her elbows on her knees out of depression. It never occurred to her how she might actually have to go through menstruation while in this form, but the fact that she is menstruating only made her situation ten times worse—it meant that this body of hers is capable of impregnation. God forbid if she had gotten pregnant with another man's baby, not only would it take much longer for her to possibly return to normal, but who knows if she could even turn back to normal at all if such an event occurred. Aside from that dreadful possibility, the idea of having to give birth to and take care of a child of her own is a terribly dreadful and complicated enough situation on its own.
There were obviously no feminine hygienic products in the house as of that day, so Germany had to stick with folds of tissue paper to keep the blood at bay. Earlier that morning, when she woke up to a weird and disgustingly wet feeling, followed by the unsightly blood stain on her once crisp-white bed sheets, her pajamas, and her underwear—to which she responded with a shrill "Scheiße!" that practically woke up the whole block—she knew she had to make a trip to the drug store herself. There's no way she can have anyone shopping for hygienic material alongside her—she's going to have to go solo for the day, and she better get it over with quick, because not only is it uncomfortable having tissue stuffed in one's crotch, considering how it isn't stuck in place, the worse that could happen is having it fall out of her panties and onto the floor as a big bloody mass for everyone to see.
"I hate this…" she whispered to herself rather despairingly as she buried her face in her hands. As if the reality of blood oozing out from between her legs isn't bad enough, the hormonal effects were already getting to her. Her mood swings were causing her weird cravings, which explained why she managed to finish three mountainous plates of pancakes for breakfast and why she had five slices of the cake she and Austria baked earlier that day. If anything, however, she was extremely grateful that her body hadn't started acting up the previous night while she was out with Italy. That would have been all the more mortifying.
After placing another batch of tissue paper into her underwear, she immediately made her way out of the bathroom to her bedroom, where she would first dispose of her soiled bed sheets before changing into more decent clothing.
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Aisles and aisles of various boxes and packages, it's no wonder Germany couldn't decide on the right kind. It had basically come down to a single decision: pads or tampons? Although she obviously has very little knowledge as to how either product is utilized, she can make inferences. After shamefully looking back on her nightmare, she assumed that, although it may probably provide a little more security, tampons must be much less comfortable as compared to pads. It was merely the idea of having a foreign object lodged inside one of her bodily orifices for a considerable amount of time that completely turned her off—the thought of it sent shivers down her spine.
She slowly walked down the aisle, glancing briefly on each package. 'Extra absorption or extra comfort?' she would ask herself, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders in embarrassment. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, groaning loudly as she violently stamped down one foot in frustration. At that moment of emotional outburst, she couldn't care less about the few neighboring shoppers in the same aisle. Considering she was browsing in the feminine hygiene aisle, they only assumed that her PMS was getting to her and simply stepped a few extra feet to the side to create a cautionary space cushion. Germany continued swinging her shoulders and her fists rapidly from side to side, like a little girl throwing a tantrum. She was aware of her immature behavior, but it was actually making her feel better, so she continued for a little while longer until she was able to calm her nerves down.
After releasing a long and dragged out sigh, she reached out and grabbed the nearest package of pads beside her, no longer caring about which product suited her best—she's just focused on getting home immediately and letting all this blow over. She rapidly walked down the aisle to get to the nearest cashier, her eyes cast down in frustration and humiliation. As she quickly strolled by, she noticed movement heading her direction from the corner of her eye, but was blinded by her own PMS to react to it soon enough. She jumped lightly when she noticed a hand gently grabbing her forearm, but she was lost for words when she noticed who it was that approached her.
"Uh…Lucia, was it? Do you remember me?" Hungary smiled sweetly. "We met the other week near your boyfriend's place!"
The intense churning of Germany's stomach made it really difficult for her to process a response. "Umm—I-I…"
"I don't know if you remember my name, but you can call me Elizaveta—Lizzie works too, if that's too long~"
'Respond. Respond. You have to respond.'
"E-E-Elizaveta's a very p-pretty n-name…"
Hungary giggled and waved a hand. "Oh no, it's just a name~" Germany tried her best to keep it light and casual—it would only seem suspicious if she acted suspicious.
'She's already being led on by the alias, so there's really no need to worry,' she tried reassuring herself.
"N-no, no, I think it's quite a beautiful name," she continued, mustering up a little more confidence than before.
"Oh, you flatter me," she giggled again. "So what brings you here?"
"J-just…an emergency…?" she responded rather sheepishly. Germany noticed Hungary's eyes fall on the box of pads in her hand and immediately blushed out of embarrassment and indecency, but she gave off an indication of understanding.
"Ah, it's that time of the month, huh?"
"Y-yeah…Yeah, it's that time of the month, hehe…"
Hungary sighed. "Yeah, I went through mine just a couple of weeks ago. Ugh…" she commented, rolling her eyes at the experience of it. "So anyway," she continued, "I'm just about finished and on my way to the register. We should go out for some coffee after this!"
Germany laughed lightly and nervously, trying to conjure up an excuse to keep from doing so. She normally didn't mind spending some time with Hungary, but she felt that now isn't exactly the best of times. "I-I'd love to but… ('What was it again … Cousin! Right…') …my cousin Prussia is expecting me back home—he needs me to help with dinner, tonight."
"You and that obnoxious albino are related?" she asked, seemingly surprised, as they walked to the nearest cash register together.
"Oh, Feli didn't mention that, did he…?" She's getting much more confident at keeping up with the disguise.
"No, he didn't…neither did Austria…" she replied, rubbing her chin at the idea of Italy and Austria leaving out this vital piece of information, or rather misinformation. "But now I can see how you and Italy could have met."
They reached the register, each paying for their own products as they continued their conversation. "So is there a party or something tonight? Why do you need to help Prussia with dinner?" she asked Germany, placing her items in a bag as they walked out the store together. "I didn't know he could even comprehend such a task like making dinner..." she mumbled to herself while Germany thought of a viable answer to her question.
"A-actually, I've been around quite often since…since Ludwig went missing. Without him around the house, I'm kind of worried about the state it might be in if Prussia were the one left running it." Germany believed that answer was valid enough, and she knew it to be more than true that if Prussia were the one left to run the house, it would be in a complete and possibly irreversible state of chaos. "Besides," she added, "the poor guy's an emotional wreck right now that his little brother is MIA." What a lie that was. Prussia's throwing just as much of a ruckus as ever, if not more.
"Oh, right, if you and Prussia are cousins, then you must be related to Germany, too," she mentioned more to herself, stating the obvious. "I'm really sorry about Ludwig," she added with a condoling tone.
Germany sighed. "He's only missing…he hasn't been confirmed dead or otherwise yet, so there's still room for hope," she said with an optimistic shrug. As a matter of fact, she really is hoping Ludwig would return soon.
Hungary nodded slowly. "You're so right. Ludwig's pretty strong, so I'm confident he'll show up sooner or later," she said confidently, throwing a comforting smile at Germany's direction, who shyly smiled back in response. She found it really peculiar talking about herself like this. "But poor Italy must be worried sick about him," Hungary said with concern.
"You have no idea…" she replied with a slight hint of sarcasm. If by "worried sick" she meant prancing around happily, eating pasta and gelato just as much as ever, and making out with German girls by a river, then yes, he is vomit-inducing worried sick. She then stopped to fully face Hungary. "Well, I better head home now."
"Ah, right. Then I guess I'll see you around then! We really should hang out sometime."
She couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, that sounds nice. I'll let you know when I'm free." With a wave of the hand, she parted ways with Hungary, clinging onto the plastic bag of hygienic goods.
"Say 'hi' to Italy for me~!" she yelled back, waving rapidly. Germany replied with another wave.
'Oh, God, that was close…' she thought with a sigh of relief.
As Hungary turned around to head on home, she rubbed her chin in thought. 'It's kind of weird…even though they're only cousins, she really resembles Ludwig…almost like…twins?' She then shrugged off, finding the idea a little incredulous. "Nah…"
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As she neared home, Germany suddenly felt an unbearable craving for ice cream and beer. She sighed heavily as she unlocked her front door, annoyed by her own raging hormones. Upon entering her front door, she was immediately confronted by her older brother, who sounded quite concerned, yet nonetheless expressed so in his usual overwhelmingly loud voice.
"West! I found rags of blood in the bathroom! Are you hurt your something?" He suddenly grabbed her arm, looking and feeling around for any injuries he wasn't informed of. Unbeknownst to the almighty Prussia, laying his hands on his hormonally-raging little sister would prove to be a fatal mistake.
"Bruder," she growled, "could you take a seat for a moment, please?"
"Huh?" Prussia looked up at her in confusion, still gripping her arm. "But I'm checking for injuries—"
"Now," she repeated through gritted teeth, sounding a little more demonic.
"O-okay…" Prussia hesitantly released her arm, backed over to the nearest couch, and took a seat. Germany calmly approached him, setting her plastic bag down on the coffee table. She then crossed her arms, but indicated no threat in the meantime. She then motioned her head over to the dining table behind Prussia.
"What's that on the table?" she asked him calmly, referring to the plate covered in leftover syrup, powdered sugar, and orange zest.
"Oh, that? Haha! I got hungry, so I made some crêpes a while ago and—"
"Why haven't you washed that yet?" she interrupted him.
"Huh? Well…chill, West, I was gonna—"
"'Chill?'" she interrupted him yet again, her tone beginning to radiate with malice. "You're telling me to 'chill,' when, as I speak to you, there are ants and other vermin CRAWLING INTO THE HOUSE BECAUSE A SLOB LIKE YOU WOULDN'T WASH HIS OWN DISHES?"
Prussia suddenly found himself backing into his seat as far as he possibly could, feeling absolutely threatened by his little sister at that very moment. He gave off a countenance of fear mixed with utter shock.
"W-whoa there, West, ta-take it easy! I'll wash them in a minute," he assured, bringing up his palms in defense. Suddenly, Austria came stomping from upstairs.
"Excuse me! I'm trying to read up here! Could you please keep your voices down?"
Germany suddenly shot a finger straight at the aristocrat. "AND YOU," she said through gritted teeth. "You better get your freeloading ass down here right now."
Austria was taken aback by her provocative use of words. "I-I beg your pardon? Like I said, I'm in the middle of a good read, and you're so rudely telling me to—"
Germany suddenly interrupted him with a shrill and frightful battle cry, causing Austria to flinch and cover his ears. Even the almighty Prussia cowered in fear before his raging little sister. After letting out an almost fiery breath through her nostrils, she brought her attention back to Austria. "If you don't come down here and sit your freeloading ass down in five seconds, I swear to God, I will materialize the biggest V-2 you've ever seen and annihilate you right between the eyes." She emphasized that last part with the heaviest glare she had ever given anyone. Germany meant business and she was not about to take disrespect or disobedience from anyone. Austria slowly raised his hands up in surrender as he cautiously made his way to the couch to take a seat next to Prussia. He made sure to go around the couch, so as not to pass the fiery dragon.
Once Austria seated himself—his hands were still raised out of caution—Germany placed her hands on her hips as she paced by the coffee table, taking deep breaths. She then suddenly leaned into the two victims, causing them both to flinch in terror.
She pointed a finger at Prussia. "You're a slob." She then pointed at Austria. "And you're a lazy freeloader." The two quickly glanced at each other before bringing their attention back to Germany, who pulled away and grabbed the plastic bag on the coffee table.
"Bruder, if I find that plate still on the table…if there are any unwashed, unorganized dishes and utensils anywhere around the kitchen or dining area after I come out that bathroom…if I find another rubber duck or panda lying around…I might just have you packaged and sent to the Gulag." Prussia gulped—his hate for Siberia and fear of the Gulag cannot be expressed in words alone.
"And as for you," she growled, facing Austria who still had his hands up. "Let's see how you like being ordered around like a maid. Make me some dessert and get me a cold bottle of beer. If you don't do as I say, just remember I still have my V-2 targeted…right here." She began tapping at the area right between Austria's eyes, making him shake out of anxiety.
With her demands said, she gripped her plastic bag and headed to the nearest bathroom, slamming the door on her way in. Upon hearing the bathroom door slam, both Prussia and Austria released their breath—they had no idea how long they've been holding it, nor did they realize they've been holding it at all.
"Wha…What the hell is her problem?" Prussia complained. Austria immediately shushed him.
"You're being loud," he whispered. "She might hear you…" Prussia immediately shut his mouth, realizing what could happen if the dragon heard him complaining behind her back. Austria then motioned his eyes over to the coffee table. "Did you see what was in that bag?"
Prussia gave him a confused look. "No…why?"
Austria sighed. "There was a box of…well…feminine products in there."
He became even more confused. "…And?"
Austria's palm met his face. "Didn't you say something about rags of blood in the trash bin?"
"Yeah, what of it?"
"Germany is menstruating."
"West is masturbating?" Prussia nearly yelled out in shock and disgust. Austria shoved his hand over his mouth.
"Shhh! Menstruating, you idiot!" He slowly pulled his hand back from Prussia's face.
Prussia began rubbing his chin. "Huh…" Then he snapped his fingers in realization. "West is on her period!"
"That's what 'menstruating' means, idiot." Prussia just scowled at him in response, then got up with a quick stretch.
"Well, I don't wanna get sent to Siberia anytime soon, so I'm gonna get those dishes washed." He went on his way to the dining table, picking up the dishes he had so regretfully left lying around. Before heading towards the kitchen, he turned back to Austria who still sat on the couch. "You better get that cake and beer going, your highness. That V-2's aimed right at you." He then walked off, laughing hysterically.
Austria sighed as he got off the couch, mumbling under his breath "Idiot…"
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Up in her bedroom, Germany lay in bed, taking bite after bite of the Black Forest cake Austria hastily baked for her (she could almost taste fear in the whipped cream). Three bottles of beer were already laying around on her nightstand, but she didn't feel the slightest bit buzzed. She listened to the buzzing sound of swing music her radio was emitting. Although she knew her boss didn't approve of such upbeat music, she was feeling quite rebellious today—it's against her rules to bring food or any drinks aside from water into any of the bedrooms and even she broke her own rule. Besides, the radio was calming her already burning nerves, so she wasn't about to turn it off anytime soon, so long as she's laying down on her bed, staring whimsically at the ceiling while enjoying Black Forest cake.
After devouring her cake clean off her plate, she placed it on the nightstand alongside the beer bottles lying around, and lay flat on her bed, focused on her white ceiling. A variation of thoughts popped into her mind.
'Had Prussia done his laundry yet? God, it feels like there's a waterfall between my legs…What did Austria put in that cake that gave it a spicy yet sweet flavor? Maybe it's fear and sweat…'
She sighed. As she turned on her side, the memory of Italy's touch suddenly appeared in her thoughts. She thought about how he could possibly kiss and please like that. Italy certainly doesn't read manuals of any sort, so that couldn't be the answer. Whatever the answer was, it left a mark on her, even after many hours since it happened. Who knows how long she will be affected by his kiss?
She felt her arms wrap around herself, feeling another wave of cravings wash through her, but this time, it wasn't sweets or beer that she craved—she craved for Italy. She yearned for his warm touch and the feel of his lips against hers, those lips against her neck, moving further down, planting soft touches of affection all along wherever her milky skin remained deliciously exposed until—
"AGH!"
She rolled over onto her front, burying her face into a pillow to drown out another groan of frustration as she kicked constantly against her bed. Just another temper tantrum. She pulled her face from the pillow, facing aside as she let out a deep and somewhat melancholy breath. These feelings she's having…what's bothering her the most is the fact that she's unable to explain them. What's worrying her even more is that it might be the same unexplainable feeling Italy confronted her about the previous evening. She dares not come to the "L" word. She's German, for God's sake—she wouldn't even come close to that word unless she was puking it out in alphabet soup form. The problem is she doesn't know what the "L" word feels like. At all. It's a daunting thought to feel stuck in limbo, not knowing whether she's feeling that or not.
But why of all times is she having these thoughts now? Now, when blood is oozing out from between her legs without mercy and a disastrous mix of rage and melancholy is running rapids through her system? She just satisfied herself with cake, beer, and swing, and realized she is only putting the excess caloric intake to waste if she's going to have unnerving thoughts about what could possibly and most dreadfully be love. She had to get out of her room. She needs to get out of her house again.
Germany sat up, gathering the beer bottles and the dessert plate to bring them downstairs. As she neared the bottom floor, she peeked over the railings, getting a glimpse of Prussia's back through the kitchen walkway. She could hear him humming to an old German drinking song as the faucet ran. When she entered the kitchen, she saw that Prussia was just about finished with his kitchen chores—all the dishes had been washed and the countertops and the stove are sparkling. She suddenly felt terrible for having yelled at him the way she did moments ago (although she didn't feel all that bad about threatening Austria with a V-2 and ordering him to bake her more cake). She placed the beer bottles by the trash bin before approaching her brother with her dessert plate in hand. He felt her presence and immediately turned around, greeting her with a grin.
"Feeling better, baby Schwester?"
"Don't push it," she calmly told him, facing the other direction. He then grabbed her plate without a word, catching her off guard. She leaned on the countertop, watching as her brother finished washing that last plate. She sighed, bringing her head down, mumbling something under her breath that Prussia happened to catch.
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry…y'know…about how I acted earlier…"
She still faced away from him, so she wasn't sure how he was reacting to her apology. At first she was greeted with silence, but then it was followed by a snort and a chuckle.
"Don't worry about that," he said. "Although, you could warn a guy…" he added, indicating her feminine issues.
"Yeah…I'm sorry. I guess it was just…a little too embarrassing." She scratched behind her ear.
"Ah, well, everything is too embarrassing to talk about for you, it seems," he commented, removing the rubber gloves and setting them on the sink. She wasn't hurt by his words—she knew they were true.
"…I think I'll go out for a walk," she told him as she walked over to the coat closet.
"Hmm? Right now?" he asked with concern. "It's getting dark, you know."
"Don't worry," she assured him, buttoning her coat before slipping on some black thigh-high boots. "I shouldn't be long. And even if I am, don't worry about me too much."
An older brother couldn't help but worry, so he went over to the small drawer by the coat closet, pulling out a couple of things. He approached his little sister with items in hand as she just about finished slipping on her boots.
"Here," he said. She looked up at him, finding in his hand a small pistol and a sheathed eight-inch hunting knife. She then gave him a look of incredulity, to which he replied with a shrug. "Just in case some asshole tries to assault you."
She sighed at him as she pulled out from one of her boots an even smaller pistol ready in hand. "You underestimate me."
Prussia just laughed, impressed by her readiness. "As expected from West. Then just put this one in the other boot," he suggested, carelessly shaking around the pistol in his hand. "That way you can hit 'em with a double combo! Pow pow!"
She just rolled her eyes as she got up and approached the front door. "Don't wait for me," she said.
"You're not the boss of me," he playfully replied, spinning the pistol around.
She turned around with an expectant look on her face, both eyebrows raised high. "I kind of am." With that said, she quietly closed the door behind her.
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At first, Germany walked around with no set destination, relishing in the feeling of wandering free. She felt her nerves cooling down as she walked across smooth pavements, focusing on the breeze whistling through the trees. It was best not to think about anything at the moment, so she just relaxed and let her mind wander free.
Much to her dismay, however, her wandering spirit had unconsciously led her to Italy's front door—it must be telling her something. She sighed as she laid eyes on that old wooden door surrounded by vines. She could turn around and head back home, or at least towards another unfamiliar direction, but her hand began moving on its own as it reached up to ring the bell right beside the door. She rocked anxiously on her heels, looking around nervously while she waited for someone to open the door. Half of her hoped that there was nobody home and that it would give her an excuse to head somewhere else, yet her other half hoped that Italy was home to greet her and welcome her in for some homemade dinner. Frankly, it was the latter that had come true, but it wasn't exactly Veneziano that came to open the door.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming, dammit!" she heard muffling through front door. There seemed to be fumbling with locks from behind the door along with a grumbling of grunts and curses. The door suddenly swung open and Germany was met in the face with one of her worst nightmares, Romano. Instead of a string of "buff bastard" and "damn potato-eater" directed at her, however, she was instead greeted with a stunned Romano, whose countenance suddenly transformed into a more charming one as he smoothly greeted her, "Oh…well, buona sera, signorina." He casually leaned on the doorway, casting a longing gaze at her. Germany was very curious as to how Romano would react to her female guise, but now she was just feeling quite awkward when his eyes started travelling along her figure. She felt just a slight bit more secure under her coat. "I don't think we've met," he cooed. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing here?"
Germany knew she was about to come up with an extremely awkward response. Maybe she could at least try having some fun and utilize her terrible Italian. "I-I'm actually…erm—Sono la ragazza di suo fratellino." She knew her accent was horrid, but it wasn't her accent that turned Romano off—it was the fact that the chick he just tried hitting on is actually his little brother's girlfriend.
"Oh…" he grumbled, giving off a countenance of disgrace and disgust. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get him." He walked back further inside the house, bitterly calling for his little brother. "Veneziano, you bastard! Your girlfriend's at the door!"
No matter how smooth Romano tries to be with women, he definitely does not handle rejection well, especially if he had just been put after his little brother in preference. Germany got the hint of Romano's disappointment when he just left her hanging at the doorway and didn't even bother welcoming her in, but she had been used to such behavior since way before already. She took the initiative and welcomed herself in, admiring the old Tuscan feel of the Italian brothers' home. As she took one step at a time along the aged hardwood floor, she heard footsteps coming from her side. Italy emerged from the kitchen walkway. It looks like he was in the middle of cooking a pizza—the white apron he had on was stained with sauce and his hands and hair looked to be covered in a light dusting of flour. On his face was a look of surprise and utter happiness.
"Ger—" Before Italy could even say anything, she immediately put a silent finger to her lips.
"Lu-Lucia," Italy corrected himself before giggling nervously, realizing how close he had come to making a vital mistake with his brother just in the premises. "I didn't know you were coming tonight…"
Germany shrugged and sheepishly placed some strands of hair behind her ear. Italy thought that was just cute. "I know I'm unannounced. I…I hope you're not busy or…" She started blushing again. She knew her visit was impulsive and she's embarrassed by how rude she's probably being at the moment. Italy didn't seem to care. He was actually very happy that she decided to stop by.
"No, no, it's fine~ I'm just about finished making dinner, so you came at just the right time."
He dusted off his hands on his apron and offered to take her coat (which wasn't exactly an offer since he just rushed behind her and immediately began taking it off without a word). He assumed she visited by impulse since her outfit indicated no prep time, that she was first at home and just decided to head out. What he did notice was her top—it was a cropped black shirt that exposed just enough of her sculpted stomach. Italy gulped. He then clapped loudly as if to will away any unnecessary thoughts.
"Well, now that you're here, how about I take you to the kitchen, I'll get the table set, and we can start eating~!" He then grabbed her by the wrist and walked her over to his rustic Tuscan kitchen. Germany could smell basil and melting mozzarella in the air before she found the source lying on the island. Italy had baked a large, rectangular pizza topped with the basics: tomato sauce, tomato slices, basil, and large hunks of fresh mozzarella. Her cravings were kicking in again.
Italy led her over to the dining table and offered her a seat before heading over to the large pan of pizza. "So what brings you over?" he asked her, putting on mittens so as not to burn himself while carrying the large pan over to the table. Germany didn't really have an answer so she just shrugged.
"I didn't feel like being in the house, so I started walking around and somehow made it over to your place."
Italy carefully placed the pizza on a stand on the table. He smiled at her. "I'm really happy you came over. Now we have one more person over for dinner~" He then ran over by the staircase to call over Romano. "Big brother~! The pizza's ready!"
From where Germany sat, she could hear him grumbling, saying something in Italian about heading out for dinner by himself. He was obviously still unhappy about having his little brother's girlfriend over for dinner—he'd rather not deal with the fact that he's single while Veneziano's taken. Immediately after a slam of the door, Italy walked back into the kitchen with a low "Ve."
"I guess big brother's not eating with us tonight…which means…" He then rushed over to the seat across from Germany, chucking his apron on the countertop on the way. "It's just you and me again, my dear~" She offered a small smile as she timidly reached her hand over to grab a pizza slice.
"M-may I?"
"Oh, si, si, go ahead!"
::::::::::::::::::::
They mostly ate in silence, although every now and then Germany would either comment on how delicious his pizza was or how beautiful his house is. Italy, on the other hand, acted normally, making odd pleased sounds as he took bites of his pizza. Italy understands his own appetite, but he was left shocked when Germany ended up eating just as many slices as he did, if not more. He knew regular old Germany had a considerable appetite considering his abundance in muscle mass, but he certainly didn't expect that much from female Germany. Even after about eight slices of pizza, she still wasn't satiated—she was still craving for something sweet and maybe something warm on the side.
"Italy, I hope you don't mind me asking, but…do you have any gelato?" she asked him, which only worked to further shock him. Germany blushed as she started to feel a lot like a freeloader, but she only worked to make Italy all the more happier.
He replied with a cheerful and excited "Ve~" as he ran over to his fridge, claiming that there are lots of gelato leftover. "What flavor would you like?"
"Anything, so long as I'm getting something sweet," she said.
In no time, Italy prepared two deep bowls of pistachio flavored gelato for the two of them. After handing Germany her bowl, he leaned over behind her and whispered in her ear, "Wanna sit out on the deck?"
"Wha—Do you always have to ask me things that way?" she asked him, blushing madly.
Italy giggled. "No, but I just think it's really cute how you blush whenever I do that."
Germany scowled, but nonetheless allowed him to take her hand and lead her to the back of the kitchen through a set of two doors leading to his deck. From there, they were blessed with a view of the Tuscan hillsides and the neighboring city of Siena. Italy led her towards a copper swing bench on his deck, on which he plopped himself with a bubbly "Ve~" Germany just sat herself down on the other side of the bench and slowly took spoonfuls of the gelato to her mouth.
There they sat on the swing bench, enjoying their gelato as the bench swayed with the breeze and their movements. The sun had already set and the weather had become slightly chilly. Italy remembered leaving Germany's coat inside, but instead of getting up to grab it for her, he asked if she wanted to snuggle up against him to keep warm. Although his choice of words somewhat turned her off, Germany took up his offer—after all, it's his warmth that she had been craving for, which was probably the same reason why she impulsively came over to visit him in the first place. She started scooting over from her end of the bench closer to his end, her bowl of gelato still in hand. Italy lifted one leg onto the bench and positioned himself accordingly, so that she could sit snuggly between his legs. Although she found some opposition towards the position he had put her in, after lifting both her legs onto the bench and leaning back into his chest, she deemed it warm, comfortable, and altogether suitable, or at least tolerable.
They continued enjoying their gelato in silence. It was very rare for the two of them to share such calm and quiet moments together, from their previous evening out to their dinner this very night. Normally, Italy would constantly be rambling about some random subject, ranging from the clouds he counted in the sky to the ravioli he had for lunch two weeks earlier. But it seems that the more he grew accustomed to this female Germany, the tamer he acted, and she certainly didn't mind it. Germany relished in the feel of the swing lightly rocking back and forth, the cool evening Mediterranean breeze, the light sound of the rustling of cypress trees, the lights of Siena from afar, and, most of all, the warmth radiating from the Italian boy behind her. The sweet and nutty flavor of the pistachio gelato melting in her throat only complimented this smooth and relaxing moment she was experiencing. On a day when she was reckless and restless, this is the kind of simple paradise she just needed to calm her nerves. Once they were done with their bowls, Italy placed the both of them atop each other on a nearby patio table. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, bringing her closer to his chest. Although doing so made her feel so vulnerable and weak, she gave in to weakness and leant her head against his chest. If she listened closely, she could hear the steady beat of his heart. For all her life, the feeling of vulnerability had always proven a warning or a threat to her, especially in the battlefield, but never did she realize how beautiful the feeling of surrender could feel sometimes. Maybe now she could partly understand why Italy surrenders all the time… 'Because it feels good?' Germany shook her head, deeming the theory slightly silly, but at the same time it still seems to make sense.
She needed this. She needed to let go for just a moment and ignore all feelings, all impulses. Yet she found it so ironic how in order to drown out those weird feelings that have been bothering her, she comes back to the one who was most likely causing them. She would only find it harder to let go of those emotions when Italy gently propped her up little by little until his lips were able to reach her neck. She craned her head to expose a little more of her skin—she doesn't know why she did it, but she blames it on her weird cravings. She released a soft, dragged out sigh, his lips skimming slowly along the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. In no time, he pulled her in for a deep one.
The way they were positioned made access all the more easy for Italy. For the first time, Germany felt his tongue against her own, making smooth and slow motions that simply took her breath away, the sweet and melted taste of pistachio mingling between them. She felt her hand rise to finger through his hair, the other placing itself atop his hand on her stomach, which only started to feel beneath her cropped shirt. He felt her arch against him, attempting to maintain the passionate dance between their mouths without being distracted by the hands exploring her skin, but having to deal with both simultaneously just drove her crazy. She knew she had just lost the game—those feelings she only tried drowning out a few moments ago have returned in full-force, and she did nothing but heighten them, being so careless as to allow the warmth of Italy's touch overcome her.
Germany abruptly pulled away, slowly sitting up and letting her legs swing off the bench as she left that addicting warmth. She wiped her chin with the back of her hand, embarrassed over how their saliva mingled like that. She could hear a soft "Ve" from behind her; Italy must be worried that he did something wrong again. She gave off an audible sigh.
"Italy. Don't you think we're taking this too far?" she asked without turning around. She felt him tense. The bench vibrated a little as he rapidly shook his head and waved his hands as if in heavy denial.
"Ah—I-I wasn't even thinking about going that far! Ve…" Such possibilities made her blush furiously.
"N-no, not just this—I mean…this—this relationship…it's like we're not even trying to cover up anything anymore. It feels…It feels…"
"…Real?"
That single word Italy just used had obliged her to turn around, look him in the eye, and utter those words that she had never before spoken to anyone, not even herself. "…I'm kind of…afraid."
Italy stared back at her intently—she was not accustomed to such a serious look on his face. "You're afraid to love?"
"No! It's not that—it's…" She let out a shallow sigh, turning away from him. "I don't know…"
For a moment, she received no response, but soon enough, she felt two arms wrap around her from behind in an embrace. Italy leaned in from behind her, resting his head on her shoulder. "It's okay to be afraid," he said softly.
She turned her head and gave him a slightly confused look, to which he only responded with a small, understanding smile. "I used to be kind of afraid, myself…" Germany responded with a look of slight surprise and interest.
He sighed softly before continuing, "My first love left me with a single kiss…and after that, I never saw him again." Germany felt his arms tighten his hold on her ever so slightly, afraid that she might just slip through his fingers and disappear forever.
"I don't know if you could imagine how hurt I was when I found out what happened to him…"
As curious as she was about his story, she didn't want to hurt him by asking him what happened.
"But…" He then gave out a determined breath. "Even then, I can't let that keep me down forever." She noticed how his eyes began to sparkle with comfort and determination and maybe something a little bit deeper…
"Just because I lost one great love doesn't mean I'll lose one after another. Even if I am afraid, if I realize I love someone, I can't fight those feelings—we all have to love somebody sometimes. That's just the way life goes." He smiled at her. Leave it to an Italian to offer an insightful lecture on love. Germany would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't affected by his words, yet she still felt bothered.
"See…that's my problem…" She sighed deeply. "You certainly know what it feels like to have loved someone, but I…I don't even have a clue as to what it is I'm feeling right now, and it's such a nuisance!" She crossed her arms, facing away from him again. "I don't want to call it that when I don't even know what it feels like."
"Ve…I'm sure you know what it feels like. You probably just don't realize that you're feeling it."
"T-that's a possibility…"
"Like, hmm…" He brought a finger to his lip. "Like when you feel like you need to protect or take care of someone…or when you feel very happy being around someone…or when you feel your heartbeat quicken when you're around someone. Those are some ways you can tell that you love somebody."
Italy's words helped her ponder over whether she has ever felt love before, and having done that certainly didn't do anything to ease her anxiety. She realized that those few examples he had given her—she felt all of those around Italy. As much as a nuisance it is to constantly be looking after Italy, it's something she definitely didn't mind doing—the last thing she'd ever want is for her ally and her friend to get hurt. Despite the raise in blood pressure she would sometimes experience just being around him, he certainly made her feel happy—in fact, she loved having him around. And that last point he mentioned—she is feeling it that very moment. His arms wrapped around her waist. His head leaning on her shoulder. She turned to the side only to be met by his large maroon eyes gazing sweetly at her. He began showering her with affection again. His lips against her temple, against her cheek, against her jaw line, against her neck. Germany has never had her heart beat this fast in the middle of battle—not when he ran for thirty kilometers with thirty kilograms on his back; not when he was in the trenches shooting at whomever shot at him; not when he hid in the shrubs from those who sought to take him in as prisoner. But she recognized this feeling—the way he felt so nervous when he was about to take Italy out for that final dinner. That same feeling from that terrible night, it only increased tenfold.
Her heart was racing, and it might just explode.
Italy's lips were on her pulse, and he certainly felt it. The rapid thumping, the rushing flow of blood coursing through her veins. He looked at her with concern. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brow furrowed, her cheeks were blazing hot. "V-Ve…Germany? A-Are you okay?"
She couldn't take it anymore.
"RAAAAAHHH!"
With a shrill cry, she abruptly pulled away from Italy's arms and practically ran rampant across the deck with her arms swinging in the air until the railings stopped her (was she really thinking about jumping?). She gripped tightly on the railings. With her back against them, she slowly melted onto the floor, it seemed like. Italy cowered in fear—he's extremely afraid he may have showered Germany with too much affection and led her to the brink of insanity.
"Ve!" he cried. "I'm so sorry!"
Germany found her way down to the floor, still gripping to the iron railings. Her knees were bunched, her back against the railings, breathing heavily. Releasing that much anxiety in one concentrated moment was certainly very tiring. She leant her head against the railings and closed her eyes. She felt so tired, she could fall asleep then and there. When Italy noticed her fall limp on the floor against the railings, he ran to her, extremely concerned that her heart might have actually exploded. He knelt in front of her, brushing strands of hair off her face. He gave off a sigh of relief when he noticed she was still breathing, much more softly than before.
"G-Germany…?"
She cracked one eye open and saw how concerned Italy was—he was just about crying. "I am…so sorry I did that," she breathed out.
"Ve…" he cried, placing his hands against her cheeks. "Oh my God, what did I just do to you?"
She weakly shook her head. "It's not you…I'm just…" She blushed, her brow furrowing. "I'm on my period," she whispered through gritted teeth.
Italy's brow furrowed, a confused "Ve" seeping out. Then his expression brightened again, "Oh! That's why Germany's acting extra scary and weird…"
She groaned lightly out of frustration and embarrassment. "I hate it so much…" she grumbled.
"Ve~ I'll just get you a cold glass of milk—I heard it helps with PMS."
She looked back at him, a lazy look of interest on her face. "Oh, does it?"
Italy then caught her by surprise when he brought two arms underneath her and swiftly lifted her up bridal style. "WAH! Wha—How are you—I-Italy!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, afraid that he might just drop her once he reached his limits, which she personally knew don't go very far. The fact that she was being carried inside this way—by Italy nonetheless—made her blush furiously.
"Ve~ Germany's really tired. I don't want her collapsing anytime soon."
'And you're just the exception?' she thought nervously as she huffed and puffed. "Aren't I heavy? What if you fall over?"
"You're not full of muscles anymore, so you've actually gotten a lot lighter~" he cheerfully replied. "Thank goodness you're not fat, either," he added playfully.
"Hmm…"
She preferred not to be carried at all, especially this way, but since this would only be between the two of them, she didn't mind it so much and just went with the flow, leaning her head against his shoulder as he carried her.
The way she used her menstruation as an excuse for her rampant behavior earlier—it was only partly true. She didn't want to come near that word "love" just yet, so she placed the blame of these intense feelings on her hormones. However, she certainly didn't mind dragging it on like this, at least until she is ready to accept these feelings she has for Italy. She decided to stop fighting her urges and hesitantly planted a soft kiss against Italy's pulse as he carried her.
"Ve~" he giggled, "that tickles, Germany!"
They had made it back into his kitchen, and Italy was just about to reach the dining table and gently place Germany down on a seat, but just a few feet before they came close to the table, Germany already felt Italy's legs quivering—his legs were about to give.
"I-Italy, don't push yourself!" she warned him, clinging a bit more tightly onto his neck.
"V-ve…almost…there…"
He reached the dining table, trying to slightly lift one leg so that he could hook it onto one of the chair's legs, pull the chair back, and seat Germany on it. But once he lifted his leg merely one inch off the floor, he immediately lost balance and fell backwards with Germany still in his arms, lethally wringing onto his neck for dear life as they both came crashing down onto the hardwood floor with a loud thump and a shrill "WAAAH!"
The entire house seemed to rattle once their bodies made impact with the floor. Italy's back lay flat on the floor while Germany lay on top of him. She didn't suffer much damage since Italy had cushioned her fall once again, only this time it was unintentional—luckily for her, he just had to fall backwards onto the floor instead of forwards and onto the dining table. Poor Italy, however, was sandwiched in pain between the cold unforgiving floor and a full-grown German woman on top of him. He certainly didn't mind the latter part of the pain, though.
Germany shot up, placing her hands on his chest. "I-Italy! Are you okay?"
"Ve…" he quietly whined.
"Y-you idiot!" she scolded him as she straddled his waist, lightly hitting him on the chest. "I told you not to push yourself!"
"I…I'm sorry…" he wheezed. "You…almost…got hurt…"
She just sighed as her palm met her forehead. "I'm not worried about that! I'm worried about you! Here, I'll help you over to the couch." She was about to stand and lend Italy a hand, but he then yanked her back down onto his waist.
"No~ I like it here on the floor with you on top~"
She rolled her eyes, cheeks on fire. "Ugh…"
Germany leaned forward and crossed her arms on his chest, her face hovering just above Italy's. His cute smile compelled her to place a peck on his lips, which grew into a brief kiss. "I wish you wouldn't be so careless and clumsy. You make me worry too much…" she muttered after pulling away and resting her head on his shoulder.
He weakly giggled. "Germany makes me worry, too, sometimes," he said barely above a whisper, placing his hands on the small of her back. She growled at him when she felt one of his hands slowly drag down to her bottom.
"Touch my ass and I'll bite your nose off."
"V-Ve!"
Yeah. She certainly didn't mind dragging it on like this.
A/N: chapter title = "Red" (FOR BLOOD!) in German (; funny thing is that just before i updated with this chapter, i just ended my period the day before :P i hope you guys enjoyed my rendition of dragonlady!Germany :D i'm sure i could have made it much worse, but i wasn't planning on killing anyone off anytime soon, so i made her fiery side pretty tame ;P
i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as the last one~ i'll write up chapter 10 first and then post up chapter 8 :D just a warning, from chapter 8 and thereon out till the very end, it will get pretty serious :O and another warning, i apologize in advance if i end up posting much later than i usually do—i'm looking at a really busy two-weeks ahead of me, so i might not be able to write up the next chapter as quickly as i usually do (;~;) so please be patient~! AND CONTINUE SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME~! :D