Germany folded his arms as the rest of the Nations started quickly getting into a line. "Alright, everyone just get into a line and tell me your ideas." He paused. "Uh, France, get to the back of the line," he said quickly, noticing the evil look on France's face. "And you too, Russia," he added, noting Russia's pipe.
Soon the group had somehow managed to stand in a line. Germany sighed in relief when he saw who was at the front. "Oh, good, Japan. You've been quiet. Do you have any ideas?"
Japan nodded slowly. "Yes, I have an idea…"
Japan's Idea
"Japan, could you explain what this plan is?" Italy asked nervously as he followed Germany and Japan into the parking lot half an hour later. The other Nations had crowded into the parking lot, all chattering anxiously. They went silent as the three walked outside.
Japan and Germany exchanged looks. Then Japan looked over his shoulder toward Italy. "You'll find out in a minute, Italy-kun," he said, an odd look in his eye.
The three of them walked over to a bright red Italian sports car, a Ferrari, parked in the middle of the parking lot. Italy looked at it for a few seconds. Germany turned toward Italy. "Are you feeling…Italian again…?" He asked. Italy thought for a second, and then shook his head. Germany sighed and opened the door. "Alright, get in."
Italy climbed into the seat and looked around. There wasn't a seatbelt to put on, so Italy just leaned back slightly, taking in the feel of the car. Italian cars really were neat…though he did prefer German cars better—no, wait. Damn it. Italy sighed, turning toward Germany. "It's no good. I still think I'm you." Germany didn't answer, but his face suddenly had the same expression of someone who was mourning the loss of a dear friend. Italy frowned. "Wie? What?" He asked. He glanced around. "Is something wrong?" Then he noticed something odd. "Hey, shouldn't I be sitting in the driver's seat?"
Germany grabbed a seatbelt that Japan had given him earlier and wrapped it tightly around Italy's arms and torso. Italy stiffened and looked down. "What are you doing?" He asked, confused. "Italy doesn't—I mean I don't usually use seatbelts…do I…? And anyway, you wrapped it so I can't move."
The other door opened and closed. Italy stiffened and turned.
"Hey there, Veneziano," Romano said, a twisted grin on his face, grabbing the wheel and turning the key. "Whether or not you turn back to normal, I'm going to enjoy this."
Italy stared at him for a moment, suddenly feeling sick. Then he turned back toward Germany. "Veh, suddenly I feel like Italy again!" He lied quickly. "I-I feel back to normal now. I want to eat pasta. You can untie me now!" He started struggling.
Japan turned toward Romano and nodded. Romano smashed his foot onto the gas and sped off, laughing maniacally.
…
Italy sat on his hospital bed half an hour later, glaring up at Germany and Japan, unable to do anything more than mouth, "I hate you."
Japan and Germany looked at Romano. "So is Italy-kun normal again?" Japan asked.
Romano shook his head. "Nah. But that was still fun as hell."
Germany sighed.
America's Idea
Italy sat on his bed, disdainfully eyeing the large greasy hamburger he was holding. "And, um, what exactly is this thing going to accomplish?" He asked.
America grinned. "Come on, Italy, hamburgers can fix anything!" He said, sitting down. "Just take a bite!"
Italy still stared at the burger. "Um, I feel like if I eat this I'm going to immediately go into cardiac arrest," he stated nervously.
America sighed, looking slightly annoyed. "That's what the defibrillators are for," he said, motioning toward Germany, who'd grabbed a defibrillator earlier. "Come on, just take a bite! The hero knows what he's doing."
Italy still stared at it. Finally, he said, "Hey America, did you know that hamburgers were technically invented in the German city of Hamburg?"
There was a long uncomfortable silence. Then America abruptly stood up. "Well, Italy, thank you for CRUSHING ALL OF MY HOPES AND DREAMS!" He screamed, then stormed out of the room.
Italy watched him go. "So do I still need to eat this…?" Everyone shook their heads quickly.
France's Idea
France strode over. "Alright, now first we need to tie him down—"
"I told you to get to the back of the line," Germany snapped angrily. "And put your clothes back on!"
China's Idea
"You are getting very sleepy…aru…"
Italy sighed. "This is never going to work," he muttered, swatting the old battered yo-yo away from his face. "This is ridiculous."
China frowned. "Well of course it won't if you keep saying that!" He chided. "And stop distracting me, I need to concentrate, aru." He started swinging the yo-yo again. "Now, focus on the yo-yo and the sound of my voice…aru…"
Italy focused on the yo-yo. After a few seconds, he asked, "Where did you get this? It has a maple leaf on it."
"I don't know where I got it! It won't work if you don't relax aru."
(Nearby, Canada sighed.)
Italy stared at the yo-yo again. After almost a minute, his eyes started feeling heavy. He blinked a few times, trying to stay awake. Then his head slumped forward.
Germany stared at him. "Wow, it actually worked," he commented. "I didn't think it would…"
China nodded. "Unfortunately, I'm not all that good at this part…hopefully I can get him back to normal aru." He tucked the yo-yo in his pocket. "Sometimes, they start clucking or doing something I didn't say…maybe it'll work better if I speak Chinese aru." He cleared his throat and started speaking in Chinese. After a minute of that, Italy sat up, blinking sleepily. China took a deep breath, hoping he did it right.
Germany nervously grabbed Italy's shoulder. "Italy, how are you feeling?"
Italy jumped up on the bed and started singing loudly, "And I was like Baby baby baby, ooh~! Baby baby baby noo~! Baby baby baby ooh~! I thought that you'd always be mine! Mine~!"
"MAKE IT STOP!"
Prussia's (Awesome) Idea
Germany stared blankly at the belt his brother had just handed him. "Um…what…?"
Prussia rolled his eyes. "For god's sake, do I need to spell it out for you?" He grabbed the belt and held it in front of Germany's face. "Hit. Italy. In. The. Ass. With. The. Belt."
Germany took the belt. "Um, well, ja, I guess that might work…I think…" he muttered. Then he turned and walked over to Italy. "Hey, Italy…" he said slowly. "Um, stand up for a second."
Italy got to his feet. "Ja, sure. So has anyone come up with a new idea to—?"
CRACK
Italy yelped and stumbled backward, grabbing where Germany had hit him. "Verdammt! What the hell—?"
"It didn't work," Germany told Prussia.
Prussia shrugged. "Try again."
CRACK
Italy took a step backward. "What the hell are you doing?"
Germany frowned. "Still doesn't seem to be working," he told his brother, who now had an evil gleam in his eyes.
"Try hitting him harder!"
CRACK
Italy jumped backward, narrowly missing the belt. "What the hell are you—?" CRACK "—Will you stop—!" CRACK "—I swear to god—!" CRACK "—Scheisse, you son of a—!" CRACK—
Italy grabbed the belt in mid air and yanked it out of Germany's hand. "Arschloch, what the hell are you doing!" He yelled, whipping the belt at the two Germans.
CRACK
Germany and Prussia scrambled backward. "Retreat! Retreat!"
Germany's Idea
"Let's face it, I'm never getting back to normal," Italy mumbled after several more painful and ineffective ideas. "I'm just going to be stuck this way forever."
Prussia patted him on the shoulder. "Don't keep saying that! You gotta look on the bright side! That's what you would normally—" Italy shot him a glare. "—I mean, just stop being so pessimistic." He paused for a second. "Also, if it does turn out you're stuck this way forever, should I call you 'West Italy'?"
"That is quite possibly the most stupid and insipid comment I have ever heard," Italy replied dryly.
Prussia frowned. "Jeez. Just making suggestions," he muttered, pouting slightly.
Germany sighed as he watched the two of them. It would probably be more productive to think positively, but what if Italy was right? What if he was stuck this way forever? He tried to imagine it. Italy acting like him…Italy working like him…Italy never smiling again, or dancing or laughing or obsessing over pasta or doing something fun and stupid with him again…
Italy seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he seemed even more unhappy. "Scheisse," he cursed softly, taking out his phone and inspecting his reflection. He inspected his bangs for a few seconds. Then he accidentally tugged slightly on his curl, then flinched, folded his hands together, and sighed.
"Ve~"
Germany stiffened and looked up. At the moment, Italy had turned to look out the window, still looking quite un-Italy-like. Germany turned toward Prussia. "Did he just…?" Was all he managed to say.
Prussia glowered up at him. "Did he just what? I wasn't really paying attention…"
Germany scowled and turned back toward Italy. "Do that again!"
Italy looked up. "Do what again?" He asked, looking confused. "Pull the hair curl?"
"Nein, I meant—" Then he froze. An odd thought had crossed his mind. He stared at Italy for a long time, his gaze fixed on the loopy hair curl protruding precariously from the side of his head.
Italy blinked. "Um, are you alright?" When he didn't answer, Italy frowned. "Did you think of something?"
Germany stared at him a bit longer, looking slightly distressed. Then he shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Italy, I'm just going to apologize in advance for this…"
"What are you talking—?"
Germany grabbed the hair curl and yanked.
Italy yelped. "Ack! W-What the hell are you—?" Germany grimaced and pulled a little harder, and Italy switched to something between a moan and a "Ve~"
Nearby, Japan and Hungary had nosebleeds.
After a few moments, Romano and France both grabbed Germany and yanked him backwards, Romano swearing uncontrollably and France yelling something that Germany could only assume meant, "You son of a bitch that's my job!"
Romano started strangling Germany, screaming, "WHAT THE (censor) DO YOU THINK YOU'RE (censor) DOING TO MY BROTHER YOU (censor censor censor censor) I OUGHT TO (censor censor censor censor censor censor censor) AND SHOVE MY (censor censor) RIGHT UP YOUR—!"
"Ve~ where am I…?"
Romano and Germany both froze. Then Germany stood up (knocking Romano off in the process) and ran over to Italy. "Italy! Are you feeling alright?"
Italy looked up at him, eyes closed the way they usually were, and answered, "No. I'm hungry. Can I have some pasta?"
Germany smiled at him. "Of course," he replied, feeling relieved. He helped Italy to his feet. "I'm, uh, sorry about your hair…"
Ve~ what do you mean?" Italy asked groggily.
Germany gave a relieved sigh. "Never mind, it's nothing," he said quickly. "Now come on, let's go get some pasta—"
Russia smashed his pipe against Italy's head. Germany yelped as Italy fell to the floor. "Russia!" He screamed. "Why the hell did you do that?"
"I didn't get to try my idea. Kol kol kol."
Germany glared at him and bent down quickly. "I-Italy! Are you okay?"
Italy sat up. "Of course I'm ok!" He answered dizzily. "I'm the hero!"
Germany blinked a few times. Then he stood up. "Well, I'm going home…"
Russia's Idea
"Kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol kol..."
Uploading this at the last possible second. This is the last in this story. Don't ask what happens next...
I'll probably edit this later. Hope you like it though.
