Italy made his way over to France's house the following afternoon. Germany has stepped out and Italy took the opportunity to pay a visit. He needed guidance. The last relationship he was with Holy Rome and that didn't exactly end well. Not to mention he was young and was clueless on how to get another man to have sex with him.
He figured, though, that France was the best person to ask about these problems. France was, after all, notorious for being a great lover. Even Italy knew that.
When he arrived at the house he eagerly gave the white, double doors with the brass knocker. He took a step back and waited. A couple of seconds passed and nobody answered. He decided to know again, louder. Nothing. Italy grabbed both knockers and began to furiously and repeatedly knock until he got some sort of response.
France finally swung open the door, eyes red and furious, face contorted. His hair was tousled and messy, and it looked as though he hadn't trimmed his beard that morning, nor had he changed his clothes.
"What in the world do you want?! Can't you see I'm-" France cut off his rant the minute he recognized who was standing at his door. Italy was shocked and rather teary eyed from France's outburst. "Oh! Italy, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you. What is it that you want?"
"I-I . . . um, you told me I could come over today." The small man muttered. France had an expression that read as confused and frustrated, trying to remember such conversation. Then his eyes grew wider and he slapped his face with his hand.
"Right! I did say that." He said slowly. Moving aside, he gestured for Italy to enter, which he did, reluctantly.
"Are you sure about this? I could come back another day."
"No, no." France waved. "It's fine. But I should warn you, Spain is here."
"So? What's wrong with that?"
"Did you not hear what happened between him and Romano?" Itay gaped up at the frenchman.
"No!"
"Shh." He put an arm around the italian and leaned towards his ear, whispering while leading him towards the living room, "Your brother and Spain had a fight last night and they're basically not speaking. Spain told him that he was tired of Romano not sharing their feelings, so he's giving him the silent treatment. He's tossed Romano out of his life."
"How's Romano taking that?"
"I'm not too sure."
"What about Spain."
"See for yourself." They arrived at the living room at the end of the hall. To say it was messy would be an understatement. There were empty bottles of alcohol scattered across the floor and tables. Pillows were on the floor around the couch rather than on it, save for the one Prussia was using under his own head whilst he slept. The pictures were either out of place, faced down, or all of the above. All of the curtains were drawn closed, except for the one by the window Spain was looking out of.
He was sitting in an armchair which he dragged from it's area near the coffee table to the window. He was wrapped in a blanket, frown plastered on his face, and a stubble growing on his chin. He looked absolutely miserable.
"Aw, poor Spain." Italy whispered.
"Let's go in the kitchen to talk, just give me a moment." France walked over to the sleeping albino, giving him a sharp smack to the head. Prussia's arms flailed up to cover his head, his knees drawn up as well. "Wake up you idiot!" France said in a harsh whisper.
"What?!" He said in an equal tone.
"I told you to watch out for him while I go get the door! Can you do anything?"
"Sorry, I'm fucking tired. I've been up all night!"
"So have I! Just keep an eye on him while I talk to Italy."
"Oh, is Italy here?" Prussia got up immediately, rushing over to Italy and bringing him into a tight hug. "How is my new brother-in-law doing?" Italy giggled.
"Prussia, Germany and I aren't married!"
"Not yet, but it's going to happen. I know it. You two are just too good together. Besides, I see you as a little brother anyway."
"Thank you, I feel the same way. But I really wanted to talk to France."
"About what?"
"Yeah, what do you need to talk to me about, anyway?" France chimed in, leading Italy to the kitchen. Prussia was following close behind. "What are you doing? I told you to stay with Spain."
"Actually, I was kind of wondering if Prussia could help out with this too. It's is about Germany."
"Come on, he'll be fine. Let's go." They all made their way into the kitchen. Prussia and Italy sat down at the off-white table nestled up against the wall, under a picture of a random vineyard in the French countryside.
"Can I get anyone anything? Water, tea?" They both shook their heads, allowing France to take a seat. "So, what's wrong with Germany?" Prussia inquired.
"Germany's fine . . . sort of. It's just that I really, really like Germany. Actually, scratch that, I love Germany. And I try to get him to . . . make love to me, but each time I try get intimate with him he shoves me away. What am I doing wrong?" France sighed, resting his hand on Italy's shoulder.
"Italy, you two have only been dating for a couple of days. Don't you think you two should be taking it slower than that?" Italy shoved that seat from under his feet and paced around.
"Germany said the same thing, but we've been in a relationship for decades now. We've just changed to being in a romantic relationship a couple of days ago. So why should we wait? We know each other, we love each other. Why wait?"
"Italy," France began, getting up too, "I understand that you're excited, but you have to be calm and listen to what Germany wants too. If he wants to take things slowly, don't you think that you should respect that? Just be patient and be sure it's what you want."
"Germany thinks that I won't enjoy sex with a man, but it's not just a man. It's Germany."
"Italy, I think you should wait. But I also think you should test the waters. Just wait a minute, I'll be right back." France disappeared upstairs for a moment, quickly returning with a small box. "Here. Just test it out and then make a final decision, okay?" Italy looked sad, knowing he had no choice but to accept defeat.
"Alright." The young man said, snatching the box out of France's hands. "I'll do it your way."
"Good, we should probably go check on Spain. Prussia?" The man was asleep. "Idiot." They walked back over to the living room where Spain remained unmoved. Timidly, Italy walked over, putting his hand on the spanish mans shoulder. He didn't move. The italian moved over, kneeling beside Spain and grabbing his hand.
Spain moved. He peered at Italy in bewilderment.
"Romano?" Italy smiled slightly.
"No, Spain, it's me. It's Italy." Spain scrunched his features, squinting his eyes and looking closer at Italy.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I'm still drunk." The dirty man explained, running his hand over his face, not moving them over his eyes once they laid to rest there.
"It's okay. I heard what happened and I'm sorry." His thumb ran over Spain's knuckles affectionately. "If it's any consolation, Romano is probably not doing too well either." Spain shrugged his shoulders
"I didn't do this to make him feel bad. I was just tired of feeling like I was being dragged around." Italy smiled, squeezing his hand.
"Let me tell you something about Romano. You probably know it, but I'm still going to say it. Romano gets jealous easily."
"Yeah I knew that. It was obvious when you and Germany started to hang out."
"Really?"
"Yes, he was really jealous." They both smiled.
"Hang in there Spain."
"I will, don't worry about me. I think I just need a few days to drown my feelings in ice cream and rum." Italy got up, stretching his arms out.
"Alright. I guess I'll just head back to Germany's. Thank you for the advice."
"It's no problem. Come back anytime you need more advice." France replied.
"Thanks. Well, ciao!"
"Wait! Italy!" Spain called, grabbing the box. "Don't forget-" He was cut off by his own shock when he noticed the box. He'd seen the box before, he knew what it contained.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you. Ciao!" With a wave, Italy left the house and made his way back to Germany's house.
Spain looked over at France,
"Did you give him what I thought you gave him?" France smiled and nodded. Spain shook his head and chuckled.