A/N: I'm surprised. Why hasn't anyone given love to my other one-shot yet? *sulks* Go check it out now, or meet the Devil! (kolkolkolkolkol) Nah, just kidding! But please check it out 'kay? WARNING: IF YOU SHIP NICHU DON'T READ IT.

Now: Germany and Spain gets baffled by their favourite Italians' strange behaviour… rated T for a damn reason…

I don't own Hetalia. If I do Singapore will be an official character.

Part 5-Italy and Romano

And those creepy Italians

Who think they're smooth

Mama mia!

Germany woke up with a splitting headache. "Verdammt…" he groaned as he struggled up, the whole room spinning before his eyes. He must have drunk too much yesterday…

"And I vas only finishing ze 1324th mug…" Germany mumbled as he stumbled off in search of an ice-pack to put on his head. It was going to be a bad day ahead, he thought.

Germany just jinxed himself.

He was totally right.

XXX

Germany was rummaging around in the first-aid kit for some painkillers when he heard the door opening. He knew who it was immediately.

"Vhat is it Italien?" he said without looking up.

What he didn't expect was a pair of hands encircling his waist.

Germany immediately dropped everything in his hands and turned scarlet. "V…Vhat are you doing?" he managed, trying to pry the pair of hands off his waist. It just felt plain weird! It might be just too much BDSM porn, though. The headache made it impossible to think straight.

"Germany…" the person in question froze. It was Italy's voice alright, but it sounded alike yet different at the same time. Gone was the childish happiness, the blissful innocence in the voice. Instead, it was replaced with a note of… seductiveness? Silkiness? Germany could not decide. His pounding headache made everything fuzzy.

Germany managed to get Italy's hands off his body. Crossly, he turned around, ready to grab the Italian by his collar and give his a piece of his mind.

Holy shit.

Italy was dressed in a pink frilly French waitress skirt that didn't even cover up his thighs. Lacy black leggings went all the way up to his knees. A white rose adorned his warm reddish-brown hair. Germany could not help but blush even more as his eyes unconsciously travelled down to Italy's lower regions (ohonhonhonhon).

"Like what you see, Germany?" Italy whispered, cat-stepping one step closer to Germany, forcing him to move backwards. His headache had magically disappeared, his icy blue eyes wide. If Japan had been there he would have taken at least 100 photographs of the priceless look on Germany's face.

"S…stop…" he managed, pushing Italy gently backwards. "You must be ill. Here, let me take your temperature." He reached for the thermometer in the abandoned first-aid kit on the ground.

"I'm not sick, Germany," Italy grinned deviously as he took a step closer to Germany, swaying his hips. He kneeled down, grabbed the thermometer from the stunned German's hands and tossed it out of the open window with an easy grace.

"Vhat ze hell are you doing, Italien?" Germany burst out, eyes now flashing with rage. "Are you out of your mind? Vhat is wrong vith you today?!"

Instead of cowering in fear like he would have, Italy merely smiled not-so-innocently. "I'm not out of my mind, Germany…" he purred seductively, smirking at the German's dumbstruck expression. "Just admit it. You like what you see… and you want a lot more." Italy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as Germany spluttered indignantly in denial.

"Nein!" Germany finally screamed (albeit in a very manly way-not!) as he scrambled towards the door, slamming it open. "Was zur Hölle ist passiert?!" he shouted before running out in only a tank top and shorts, with an Italian in a short skimpy dress chasing after his calling, "Come back Germany! I know you want me!"

XXX

"Buenos días, mi pequeño tomate!" Spain called happily as he shuffled down the stairs, stretching, unaware of what was awaiting him downstairs.

He expected to be greeted with a snide comment, a rude remark, curses or even a headbutt.

What he did not expect was to be pinned to the wall by a certain Italian.

"Ehh… what are you doing Roma?" he asked nervously as he stared into the golden eyes of Romano.

"Come on, Spain!" Spain gaped in disbelief. Was Romano begging him? Him, Spain, whom Romano treated as nothing other than yet another annoying bastard? Things were not looking too good… maybe he should start calling the tomato delivery trucks in.

"Spain! I'm feeling so lonely! Lets-"Spain gasped loudly. Even he, the country of passion, would never talk about such things so openly! Things were getting out of hand.

"Please? With a tomato on top?" Romano put on his best moe face. Spain could already feel a nosebleed coming on. But what he was asking for-?

"R-Roma…" He started, but was quickly cut off by an over-energetic Italian jumping up and down, his curl bouncing along with him.

"Yay! Spain said yes! Now lets-(A/N: The following section has been edited out for the reader's imagination to fill in ;P)!" Spain was panicking. Even France would not go that far! What has happened to Romano?

"Let's go to the hospital first, Roma! I think you're either poisoned or possessed!" Spain said worriedly, reaching for his coat on the table.

"Huh? But I don't want to go… I want to-"Spain finally cracked under his terror and sheer confusion.

"Alguien me salve! Romano se ha vuelto loco!" Spain wailed before tearing down the streets at Mach 2, with Romano hot on his heels.

XXX

The countries knew something was wrong. Two nations, Germany and Spain, calling a world meeting at the same time? Things were definitely wrong. Usually Spain would be trying to postpone the meeting for as long as possible! Even Germany, as OCD as he is, would follow the World Meeting schedule! Something wasn't right.

What made the countries even more uneasy was the haunted look on both nations' faces. Even Japan got freaked out, which made the countries downright terrified. Japan was scared? The world must be ending!

The hall was hushed for the first time in many, many years. Even America had a grim expression on his face. Even Belarus was sitting quietly in her seat. Nobody moved or spoke for a few moments.

Germany broke the silence first.

"This emergency World Meeting has been called due to an urgent matter which may pose a threat to us," he started, but was cut off by Spain's hysterical crying.

"R-Roma's gone c-c-crazy," He sobbed, burying his head in his hands. "He w-won't stop t-talking about ***!" The countries gasped.

Germany nodded gravely and continued. "Today Italy tried to ***********(please fill this in with whatever you want to see)me." He paused, taking a sweeping gaze at the shell-shocked expressions on the nation's faces.

"Zat is ze problem we have come together to solve today. Let ze World Meeting begin."

As if on cue, the door to the World Meeting Hall slammed open.

XXX

Everyone turned to look at the entrance.

In stumbled a confused Italy (who had gotten out of his dress somehow), a pissed Romano and a drunken England, clinging onto the two brothers for support.

"Ve-Germany!" Italy cried, hurling towards Germany, who found himself with an armful of Italy a second later. "Today I just found myself running down the street in a dress! What's happening to me Germany?" He blubbered on and on, unaware of the sigh of relief Germany let out.

"Spain, you bastard!" Romano let go of England who somehow managed to crawl into his seat and hurled himself at the Mediterranean nation, headbutting him with the force of a bull. "What drug did you give me? I found myself running down the damn street in boxers with people all staring at me, you damn bastard! Damn you!" he swore, with Spain merely grinning widely. His Roma was back to normal. That was all that mattered then.

XXX

Germany regained his normal stoic and stern composure as he stood up, pushing a now-happy Italy back into his own seat. "Since ze problem has apparently been solved, you are all dismissed."

As the nations turned to leave, Italy's voice rang through the hall.

"By the way, what's "Smooth-talker powder"?"

The nations all froze and turned to look at England.

In the wasted nation's hands was a tube of something with "Smooth-talker powder: super-effective for creeping out the damn Axis!" written on it.

England's in some serious shit.

-End of part 6-

A/N: Phew… so long! I'm so proud of myself! R&R! Ideas on who to do next please! AND GO READ MY ONE SHOT EVEN IF IT SUCKS LIKE SHIT! Thanks!