Authors Note: For Christmas 2011 I took part in the Gertalia Secret Santa project on LiveJournal. This was my gift to ridensgirl. I decided to post it here incase there were any GerIta fans who weren't part of the project that wanted to read it...

*Frets* Um, it's not that good (at least I don't think it is compared with the other wonderful entries this year) and this is my first attempt at writing romance of any kind, so I hope it's not too awkward! Please be gentle with any critique...

(Also if you've read my other fic on this site, the very first paragraph may seem similar; chalk that up to liking the mental-imagery from that scene and laziness on my part OTL ).

Enjoy! (Hopefully)!

❝Foreign Familiarity❞

He was stretched out on his stomach on the lounge carpet, lazily kicking his calves back and forth in the air; one hand propped up his chin, whilst the other aimlessly flipped the dog-eared pages of a travel guide.

To his left the fire was stoked and crackling merrily, creating such a pleasant warmth and glow around the room that Italy had no desire to leave this spot at all.

…And certainly no desire to go outside for now. It's cold! The Italian nation couldn't help the stubborn, indolent thought from entering his mind as he lifted his head to look out of the window. The sky was perfectly clear through the thin cloak of winter air; the snow they'd been promised by the overly chirpy weather-woman on television hadn't arrived yet, but the navy velvet of the sky seemed to almost sparkle with the promise of ice. He could see thousands of stars glittering outside, framed by the by the spidery pine trees that now appeared black in the encroaching darkness.

Italy turned from the cold winter scenery outside the window and instead focused on the other person in the room. The personification of the nation of Germany was sat on the couch to Italy's right, completely surrounded by a veritable mountain of paperwork. The German looked far too stressed for Italy's liking. His normally neat, blond hair was rumpled where he'd distractedly run his hands through it, and the glasses he wore for reading slid down the bridge of his nose as he alternated between scribbling notes over the documents around him and typing away at a near frantic pace on his laptop.

He's supposed to be relaxing. The thought caused an uncharacteristic frown on the Italian's normally cheerful face. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily as he watched Germany rub his chin distractedly and reach for yet another stack of official documents.

Enough is enough. He didn't even stop for dinner; at the very least Ludwig needs something to drink.

Closing the long neglected travel guide and standing, Italy took a moment to stretch, giving him the appearance of a sleepy cat, before he padded as quietly as possible from the room.

Italy contemplated matters as they stood whilst gathering a few items from the kitchen. It was a wonder that Germany had agreed to let him visit at all. With the economy in a fairly bad way at the moment all of the nations had been busy. However whereas most of the nations left their affairs to be sorted by other government officials so that they could at least have some fun during the festive season; Germany always liked to be as involved as possible and so usually found himself with far more work than he could handle. The others claimed it was perfectionism and maybe just a hint of being a control freak; but those closest to Germany knew he only wanted to prevent things going wrong.

Italy brushed away such gloomy thoughts and concentrated instead on the positive, as he was wont to do. Germany had agreed to let him stay after all, and that thought was enough to make the Italian smile widely.

It had been a tradition between the two for a number of decades now; the few weeks around Christmas would invariably be spent in one another's company. For the most part that time was spent in either Italy or Germany's homelands; sometimes in the company of other nations they considered family or close friends, but more often than not it was just the two of them.

For once, Italy was planning to break tradition somewhat. Not completely though, no. Doing that might just send his schedule abiding German into cardiac arrest (if nations could suffer from such a thing of course). However Italy had planned an impromptu vacation-within-a-vacation of sorts…

He'd decided several weeks ago, upon seeing Germany buried in his work that his fellow nation had to get out of this monotonous lifestyle for a few days. So after some pestering on Italy's part to Germany's boss (well he didn't really pester much; even she had noticed the amount of work he was shouldering and had agreed he needed some kind of reprieve), a confused Germany had found himself with three weeks 'owed vacation' and had been shooed back home.

(So what does he do then! Italy thought with fond exasperation. He sneaks a heap of paperwork into his home and carries on working!)

Italy had arrived at Germany's home in Bavaria a day or so after his 'owed vacation' started so as not to rouse suspicion. He had been appalled to see the German working instead of relaxing, and so had finally caved and called for help…

… or rather he called Hungary on the phone.

Hungary, saint that she was, had listened to the Italian's melodramatic retelling of his plight; "He just keeps on working like some kind of robot, Eliza! He's not even paying attention to me anymore! It's nearly Christmas, he should be having fun, not working like some kind of Scrooge!" and had given Italy a very good suggestion.

"Feliciano," Hungary cooed after Italy had to pause for breath (Italy never could fathom why she always seemed amused by his conversations about Germany, he'd asked Austria once only to have the other nation mutter something about "she thinks you're cute together"). "The problem is simple. True you managed to get Ludwig away from the office, congratulations on accomplishing that by the way. But, what you really need to do is to get him away from his work completely. It's obvious that if he's in his own country he'll find someway of sneaking work home with him. Could you not drag him to Venice for a few days?"

"I could, but so many of his things are at my place I bet I'd end up with the same problem." Italy all but pouted into the phone receiver, despite the obvious fact that Hungary couldn't see him.

Hungary seemed to have found some measure of humour in his last statement as well; she'd giggled happily to herself before replying, "Then take him somewhere else. Somewhere he's never been before."

Inspiration had struck the Italian like a lightning bolt after the Hungarian woman had spoken those words. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that before?

"Ve~, thank you Eliza, thank you thank you thankyooou! I know just what to do now; thank you so very much, you're the most wonderful person in the world I love you forever. I swear I'm going to buy you the best Christmas present ever-" Here Italy had dissolved into babbling such rapid Italian that Hungary had lost all notion of what he was trying to say, and so had conceded to merely chuckling happily along and telling him; 'you're welcome, dear.'

After the phone conversation Italy had invested an entire day in organizing the impulsive trip by himself. He hadn't needed to be particularly secretive about it; the one advantage of Germany being so caught up in his work was that he was pretty darn oblivious to anything else around him.

The only thing I have to do now, Italy thought pulling himself from his reverie. Is actually tell Ludwig that we're going somewhere in two days.

He'd worked on automatic whilst lost in thought; placing cheese, slices of meat and some left over Stollen onto a plate (it was too late for anything more substantial, he decided), and filled two mugs; one with water, the other with hot Glühwein. Balancing these things carefully on a tray (and praying to whichever gods may be listening that his infamous clumsiness would not come into play at the worst moment and result in ruined paperwork or, heaven forbid, a damaged laptop), Italy returned to the lounge hoping to pry Germany away from his work even for just five minutes.

Upon returning Italy found that in his absence Germany had actually fallen asleep. Italy's amber eyes, partially closed in affection, trained themselves upon the figure of the sleeping German. Papers were strewn every which way as Germany had apparently slumped where he sat, glasses knocked askew and laptop placed at his side. He really had been working too hard if he'd gone and fallen asleep in such an undignified manner. Germany just didn't do things like that.

Placing the tray of food to one side, Italy began to quietly and diligently tidy up. Most people assumed due to his carefree attitude that Italy would be incredibly messy. It was true, when it came to cooking and artistic endeavours the Italian often made his working space look like a whirlwind had hit it. But he hadn't been bought up in Austria's household as a maid without learning a few things about cleaning. And so Italy made quick work of neatly stacking together the documents alphabetically, and putting them back in Germany's briefcase.

Gaze landing on the pesky laptop, Italy grinned mischievously to himself as he suddenly decided on a plan to prevent Germany from working anymore this evening. Careful to save all the files Germany had open, Italy turned off the laptop, gathered it together with the briefcase, and hid the lot in the cupboard under the stairs in the hallway.

Germany's three dogs, who up until now had been curled up quietly at their master's feet, watched all this with mild interest. Aster the Labrador seemed to approve, tail thumping a rhythm against the floor, Berlitz's muzzle crinkled as if he were smiling. Blackie the German Shepherd, on the other hand, was giving Italy a shrewd glare and snorted in disdain when he turned to face them all.

"Oh don't give me that look," Italy asserted, fists planted on his hips, "I'll tell him where they are later. Your papa needs a break."

Italy was tempted just to let Germany sleep for a while, but the position he had slumped in didn't appear very comfortable, and Italy didn't want the Glühwein to cool. Taking a seat next to the sleeping man, Italy reached out and shook his shoulder to wake him.

Germany opened his eyes slowly, feeling groggy. It took a few seconds for the cogs to start turning again. Sitting upright and grumbling to himself as he rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses, he made an automatic reach for more paperwork only to find that none was around. Confused and looking around with bleary eyes to locate his documents, he suddenly found himself face to face with a chipper Italian.

"Buongiorno, did you sleep well?" Italy teased.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Oh only fifteen minutes or so, I guess."

Germany blinked blearily surveying the room once more, "Feliciano, where has all my paperwork gone, and my laptop?" there was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Italy smiled, as innocent as a lamb, and merely hummed to himself tapping his chin with a forefinger in a deliberate attempt to look thoughtful, "Oh, you mean all those really boring papers about economic reform and trading agreements? And I'm quite sure the laptop had a blue case. Is that what you're looking for, Ludwig?"

Germany sighed with measured patience, "Yes Feliciano, that's exactly what I'm looking for, now where-"

"A few of England's fairies appeared and spirited your laptop away, I tried to stop them honestly," Feliciano attempted to look horrified for the act but the Cheshire cat grin on his face was not helping, his grin grew as he jerked a thumb towards Germany's dogs. "As for the paperwork, your poor babies were feeling so neglected they gobbled it all up like a trio of hungry wolves. Honestly Ludwig, I thought you trained them better than to eat official documents!"

It should be noted that Germany's dogs looked completely scandalized at this false accusation.

"Italien," Germany started warningly.

Italy frowned, he was hardly ever called that by the German anymore, "Fine, fine I'll tell you where they are, but you have to eat something first."

Before Germany had a chance to argue, Italy grabbed the tray from the table and handed it to him. Sighing in resignation, Germany decided that it was probably easier just to give in than to argue, besides which he was pretty hungry.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Italy occasionally sneaking bites Germany's meal, ("I thought you said that I was the one thathad to eat something").

Whilst sipping his glass of Glühwein, Germany noticed for the first time that evening the book that was still on the floor by the hearth. Squinting slightly to see it in the low lighting of the lounge, Germany recognised it as a travel guide. "Planning on going somewhere?" he asked Italy conversationally.

"Hm?" Italy was curled up at Germany's side with Aster, ruffling the Labrador's feathery ears whilst the other two dogs clamoured for attention by the couch. He hadn't seen the direction of Germany's gaze and turned to him questioningly.

"The travel guide," Germany waved a fork in the direction of the fireplace as he finished his meal, "were you planning a trip or something?"

Italy supposed this was a good a time as any to come clean to Germany, now that he had his undivided attention. He excused himself from Aster and picked up the book before he sat back on the couch and threw the German a winning smile. "Actually I've already planned a trip, for both of us, starting Thursday." Italy was nothing if not forthright.

Germany floundered for a few moments, blinking at the finality of the statement as it sunk into his still tired brain. "Wait- when? When did you even- Feliciano I'm supposed to be working."

"No, you're supposed to be resting. Your boss gave you three weeks vacation and all you've done so far is work yourself into the ground. You're stressed; you need to relax, so I've booked us a vacation."

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut; there was iron-clad certainty in the Italian's voice that meant this would be one of those rare moments where Italy actually refused to back down. If he was more mean spirited and not as close to Italy as he was, he could probably just refuse to go. As it was the thought of disappointing the Italian like that caused an uncomfortable feeling to curl in the pit of his stomach. Not to mention, A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Austria argued. You'd be wasting a lot of Feliciano's money on a cancelled ticket.

Opening his eyes once more and looking at Italy, he saw such a hopeful look on the other man's face that the last of his reservations dissolved. I suppose I've been a terrible host these last few days, I've completely ignored him in favour of work and, quite unlike him, he hasn't complained once. I owe him something, and he's right my boss did intend for me to have some time off. Well then…"Very well, but who will look after the dogs?"

Italy beamed, and had apparently been anticipating questions as he answered briskly, "Prussia said he'd keep an eye on them as he's in the area. Or they could come with us if you prefer. I've a home in the place we're visiting, so taking the dogs would be no problem."

"What about mail and emergency contacts?"

Italy laughed, "I've arranged all that."

Germany shook his head, smiling slightly, "You really did think this through then."

"I travel just as much as any other nation; I'm not completely hopeless y'know."

Germany turned quickly to look at Italy as he spoke fearing he'd offended him, but was relieved to see there was no hurt behind his words, just amusement. "So where are we going anyway?"

Italy grinned at his victory and shoved the travel guide enthusiastically under Germany's nose, so close to his face that it caused him to go cross-eyed trying to read the title. Taking the brochure from him, Germany flipped through the pages absently, eyes too tired to focus on any of the articles. The pictures were appealing though. "It looks like a very pleasant place, where in Italy is it exactly?"

Italy smiled and tapped the title with a forefinger. Klausen – Südtirol.

Not a place Germany recalled ever visiting, in fact he was embarrassed to admit he didn't think he'd even known of the place except maybe for passing mentions in books he'd read. He scanned the brochure again more thoroughly.

At his side Italy was fighting to keep from smiling too widely or outright laughing. Germany may have been a stick-in-the-mud when he'd told him of the trip at first, but Italy was fortunate in his choice of vacation. If there was one thing Germany loved to do more than anything, it was to expand on his knowledge. Italy didn't think he'd ever met a nation with such a hunger for new facts and information than Germany, and by choosing a place he had never been before, he'd piqued the German's interest. He could see the enthusiasm building in his eyes and the quirk of his lips as he read despite his fatigue.

Finishing his leaf through of the booklet, Germany noticed a certain… something about the town's architecture, its people, the general feel of the place. "If you don't mind my saying so Feliciano, this place looks very Germanic."

"That's because it is very Germanic," Italy scooted closer in order to point out a small map on one page. "The region of Südtirol is right here, in the very north of my home. It shares a border with Austria you see. That's why there's so much… so much Germanyness there." Italy's eyes danced as he laughed at his own strange terminology. "It's the reason why I chose this place for our vacation."

Germany looked up in order to question the Italian further about the town only to find Italy smiling into his face, so close to his own just then, and found that no words would come to him. There was something about the way the firelight played on Italy's features and lent extra warmth to his eyes that held Germany entranced for a few moments. He realized with no small measure of embarrassment that he was staring. Trying to regain some composure, Germany cleared his throat and attempted to turn his attention back to the booklet if only to break his gaze from Italy's. "Y-you chose it because it's German?" Germany felt foolish as awkwardness caused heat to creep up his neck, due in part to his close proximity to Italy.

"Si, it's such a nice blend of our homes don't you think?" Italy pointed out various pictures in the brochure to emphasise his point. Not noticing his companion's discomfort, he chuckled delightedly and continued, "I really love it there because nearly everyone speaks German too; it makes the people even cuter!"

The blush that had been beginning to ebb returned with full force at that statement, "How on earth does that make people cute!"

It wasn't necessarily some foolish masculine pride that made him balk at the term 'cute'. It was more the context of Italy's speech that bothered Germany so much. It seemed that once again the Italian had chosen to do something for a purely frivolous reason, and things like that irked Germany. To go somewhere simply because you thought the people were 'cute' or 'interesting'… he just didn't understand it! Of course his flustered brain conveniently failed to remember that the whole purpose of this trip was for his benefit, such was the curse of being so awkward.

Italy blinked his smile faltering a bit as he noticed Germany frown and turn back to face the fireplace. Eh, did I say something wrong?

Many of the other nations accused Italy of never being able to read the atmosphere, but you didn't know someone for over seventy years without gaining some insight into their way of thinking. Right now it was clear that something he'd said had irritated the German, so Italy mentally tracked back over their conversation to try and determine what that was. It took him only a few moments to realise the probable cause for Germany's discomfort, his mouth forming a small 'oh' as he mentally berated himself.

Italy did in fact have a few reasons for wanting to visit Südtirol more than any other region, and not all of them were as trivial as thinking of Germans as 'cute'. One such reason had just been highlighted by Germany's down-turn in mood. His fellow nation was, for lack of a better term, incredibly socially awkward when it came to certain situations. Italy had noticed on a number of occasions whilst travelling with Germany in his homeland that the man suffered a mild case of culture shock. This was compounded by the fact that Germany still didn't speak perfect Italian, and not to mention that his mannerisms and general appearance made him stick out like a sore thumb. Add to that the fact that his travelling companion was another overly-affectionate male, and you ended up with one incredibly uncomfortable German. It wasn't that Germany disliked the vacations though; on the contrary, Italy knew that he loved both he and his homeland. However Italy could tell that the man felt like a fish out of water, hence the idea to visit Südtirol. He had presumed that if he took Germany to a place where the people spoke his language and were similar in personality, the pair of them would be less conspicuous as a couple and so would make Germany feel more comfortable.

That wasn't the most important reason though…

He curled his legs beneath him until he was kneeling on the couch and placed a hand on Germany's shoulder to steady himself. Italy pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, their noses brushing as Germany was startled out of his thoughts and turned to look at him.

"Sorry," Italy smiled apologetically as Germany blinked in confusion. "For giving you such a silly reason for liking Südtirol. I won't lie I do find the idea of people speaking German in my homeland cute, but that's not the reason why I love the place or want to visit it."

Germany felt a pang of guilt in hearing Italy's apology and reached up, tenderly brushing some hair from his forehead. The Italian grinned at the gesture and caught Germany's hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the palm and then holding it to his cheek. Germany felt his own lips curve in a smile in response to Italy's as he looked at him, admiring how his cheeks had turned a soft pink shade, attractive with his dark hair.

Truthfully, Italy felt that perhaps his real incentive for visiting was just as silly as his first. If the likes of Prussia or America were around to hear, they'd certainly tease due to the sentimentality of his thoughts. He felt emboldened by Germany's smile though and continued. "The truth is I've wanted to visit Südtirol with you for quite some time now. You've visited a lot of places in my homeland, but never this place which is easily my most favourite place in all of Italy."

"Even more than Venice?" The surprise and confusion in Germany's voice was understandable. Venice was essentially Italy's birthplace, and most nations treasured such places above all others.

Italy's smile turned wry, "Just don't let Romano know, he'd probably throttle me if he found out I liked a place that was full of 'Italian style potato bastards' more than my own place of birth!"

"Why do you like it so much, though?" despite his questioning Germany had the strangest feeling that the answer he'd receive would both please and embarrass him.

"That's simple," Italy chirped happily, "Südtirol reminds me of you. It reminds me of us. Even though it's technically bordering Austria, it still reminds me more of you than him. I mentioned I had a home there didn't I? Well, I stay there a lot actually." Italy's blush increased, he lowered his gaze lacing his fingers with Germany's, clearly trying to distract himself as he rambled. "Whenever I feel kind of lonely in Venice, if you're busy and aren't able to visit for a long time, I always go to Südtirol. It sounds a bit silly, but being around people a bit more like you than me sometimes makes me happy."

Germany was a little surprised that Italy was capable of feeling lonely. He supposed he was foolish for thinking he was immune to it, but Italy always seemed to draw people in like a moth to a flame, be they nations or normal citizens. Thus the supposition that Italy could feel lonesome seemed somehow unfathomable. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind that he'd be missed so poignantly when away, and the notion that Italy assuaged that feeling by surrounding himself with people of a similar personality and language to his own was enough to make Germany blush beet red despite the joy that he felt.

Stoicism and logic be damned, Italy's reason was damned adorable! His body seemingly moving of his own accord, Germany pulled Italy close and claimed his lips in a soft kiss. He felt the Italian's surprised giggle against his mouth at such an unexpected action, their breaths warmly mingling. Germany pulled back and shifted in his seat, turning his body so that they could face each other. Reaching forwards, he wrapped the Italian in his arms and moved him closer, grasping his thigh and pulling it over his own leg so that Italy was straddling his hips.

Guess I'm forgiven for the 'cute' remark then, Italy thought giddily.

A tan hand slid along Germany's jaw and around to the nape of his neck where it rested, Italy's fingers gently stroking the skin there. Germany looked up as Italy bent towards him, easing their lips together once more. Italy's kisses were light and teasing, a soft brushing of lips from which he pulled away time and again, only to return to nip and lick at Germany's parted lips. Italy could taste the Glühwein on him still. He hummed in pleasure and smiled into the kiss as he felt a shiver run down the German's spine. Pulling away from his mouth he trailed feather-light kisses along Germany's jaw instead.

Germany frowned at the sudden lack of contact on his lips, and gently cupped the Italian's cheek in his hand, guiding his mouth back to his. Italy's breathy chuckle at the action caused Germany to smirk, before he took the initiative of hungrily claiming his lips in a kiss that quickly turned passionate.

The two of them were breathless by the time they separated; the tips of Germany's ears were red and his cheeks hot due to the embarrassment of his impulsive actions. He tried to save face by returning to their previous conversation and grumbling, "I still think it's a frivolous reason."

Italy saw the complaint for what it was and laughed before pretending to whine. "But Ludwig, visiting Südtirol helps me practice German. Surely that counts for something!"

Germany couldn't help but snort in amusement. He had wondered where Italy kept picking up all those strange dialects when he had always taught him standard.

Italy made himself comfortable, lying down and using Germany as some kind of glorified pillow. They fell into comfortable silence for a while; Germany was half-asleep thanks to the all-nighters he'd pulled on those currently absent documents, and Italy maintained the quiet just out of enjoyment of the peaceful atmosphere.

The Italian's face was nuzzled happily against the crook of Germany's neck, his warm breath tickling his skin. "I wonder if Ludwig will like visiting Klausen," he hummed thoughtfully.

Somewhere in the back of his analytical mind, it occurred to Germany that he should probably request his laptop and briefcase back instead of lazing around. The warm weight of Italy shifting in his arms, and the snore of his dogs beside the couch quickly knocked that thought unconscious though. Instead the German mulled over Italy's supposition sleepily.

Would he like Klausen? From what he'd seen from the brochure it looked like a lovely place. The idea of it being both Italian and German made a feeling of warmth rise in his chest for reasons he couldn't quite explain. Speaking German would certainly be easier than muddling along in Italian, and since the people would be a bit more like he was, he wouldn't be as conspicuous… they wouldn't be as conspicuous…

A sudden realisation worked its way into his mind and instead of answering Italy's query he asked; "Feliciano, forgive me for asking, but apart from getting me away from work and liking the place yourself… did you… well I was wondering perhaps if… did you choose Südtirol because you felt I might be more at ease there than in somewhere like Rome or Venice?"

Feliciano propped himself up on his elbows so he could properly answer Germany face-to-face, "Well yes, that reason did help in my decision of where we should visit. But I spoke the truth before. I really have wanted to show you around Südtirol for a long time now, it's so lovely there and I wanted to share that with you." Italy's smile was open and honest.

Germany felt a warm bubble of gratitude war with the slight remorse he felt in his heart. It hadn't struck him before that his awkwardness in appearing as a couple in public might be noticeable. He tugged the Italian close again and kissed the tip of his nose making Italy laugh at the silliness of the gesture. "Thank you, for being so considerate. I promise that from now on I'll try my best not to appear so awkward. I didn't realise how frustrating that might be for you."

This little speech made Italy laugh again and he couldn't help but tease the German, "I don't really mind you know. It just adds to your cuteness!"

This time the use of that word didn't seem to bother Germany quite so much, though his cheeks still coloured, "Idiot," he muttered. The term was said with such affection, however, that Italy bore no insult from it and just carried on smiling.

"Ah, you never answered me though," Italy suddenly remembered, "do you think you'll like Klausen?"

Germany contemplated once more. He'd soon be in a place that was a perfect combination of their cultures, a place that was entirely foreign and yet wonderfully familiar all at once. Better still he'd be in that place with Italy. "That's a foolish question really," he mumbled against the Italians lips, "as long as you're there with me I'm sure I'll love it."