Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, A Series of Unfortunate Events or Christmas. Can you even own Christmas? I think Coca Cola owns Christmas. Unfortunately, I don't own that either.
WARNING: Just a little bit of fluffy shounen ai, so if you don't like boyXboy, then I suggest you turn back now. And also, BEWARE THE EPIC SICKLY SWEET FLUFFINESS OF DOOM! Side effects may include high-pitched squealing, uncontrollable 'aw!'s and repetition of the word 'kawaii!'. You have been warned, dear fangirls and fanboys.
Pairings: GermanyXN. Italy, AmericaXEngland, SwitzerlandXLichtenstein, GreeceXJapan, RussiaXChina, SpainXS. Italy, SwedenXFinland and PrussiaXAustria.
AN: I am currently listening to Christmas songs, and it's just started snowing, so I thought I'd write this as a little Christmas present for everyone out there!
Merry Christmas everyone!
A Series of Quite Fortunate Events
By iFluffRaver
Beta-read by xXMidnightWingsXx
Dedicated to xXMidnightWingsXx, XxDappledAxX, spaghettimonster and XbulletsX
(Otherwise known as America, England, China and Japan! I love you guys so much! ^.^)
"Germany!"
Grunt.
"Germany~!"
Grunt.
"Germany! Germany! Veee~!"
The tall blonde in question sighed through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, trying desperately to ignore the hyper active Italian jumping around excitedly in front of him.
He was currently wondering why on Earth he had agreed to attend Austria's Christmas ball. It was full of people he didn't like – not that the feeling wasn't mutual – a rather awkward looking empty space in the centre of the room that was designed for dancing but wasn't getting much use, and loud orchestral music that assaulted his eardrums, which was Austria's way of flaunting his talent to the rest of world.
I can compose too, I'm sure it's not that hard…
The small bouncing object stopped, catching the German's attention.
"Germany, please?"
Ah, that was right. Italy was the reason he was there, sitting at the edge of the polished dance floor, arms folded and eyebrows tightly furrowed. He just couldn't seem to say no to the annoyingly energetic pasta lover.
Why? Why of all people to be friends with did I pick him?
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease~!"
And why does he have to squeal everything?
"What is it, Italy?" Germany gave up, if he couldn't ignore his friend, then he would have to humour him.
"Dance with me! Veee~!"
The blonde blinked.
And then blinked again.
"B-but, Italy, this is a waltz." The German distinctly heard the signature 'um pah pah' in the bass line of Johann Strauss II's 'The Blue Danube'. Bloody Austrian…
"Yes it is."
Germany blinked again.
"Two men cannot waltz, Italy, and unless there's something you've been hiding from me," very cleverly seeing as you sleep in my bed naked… "Then I'm afraid we can't participate in such things."
"But I don't want to dance with a girl; I want to dance with Germany!"
Germany's eyebrow twitched and his face flushed as the little Italian pouted, the ridiculously adorable single curl standing out from the rest of his hair seeming to visibly droop. Tears were beginning to form in the corner of the closed eyelids that Germany knew hid behind them two sparkling amber orbs that usually danced with life and joy.
This was the face that Germany could not resist. This was the face that had got him into this awkwardly irritating situation.
He reluctantly stood and held out one gloved hand to his 'partner'.
"This is going to be awkward…" He muttered under his breath, unbeknown to the ecstatic bundle of Italian cuteness that was now dragging him into the middle of the floor, catching everyone's attention. "Uh… Italy, couldn't we just stay at the side?"
Germany could feel the blood rushing to his face desperately tried to pull away from Italy's grasp, only to find how strong the smaller man could be when he wanted something.
"But Germany! I want to dance in the middle!" Italy span round gracefully to face the blushing German and revealed a smile that both stopped his heart and took his breath away.
"Al-alright, Italy…"
"What the hell do they think they're doing?" England was sitting at one of the many ornately decorated tables at the side of the room, staring – along with most of the others present – at the waltzing – using the term loosely, as Italy had seemingly chosen to ignore the traditional approach to a waltz and was spinning uncontrollably, gripping Germany's arms as he dragged the poor blonde in circles, off-beat – couple in the centre of the floor, seemingly oblivious to all the dirty looks they were receiving.
He heard a chuckle from beside him and raised a thick eyebrow in question to the sniggering American.
"Dude, they're just having fun! Lighten up a bit, will ya?" America's smirk remained as his ally sighed.
"Bloody Yank…"
America stopped laughing.
"Oh, what is it now? You can't only just be getting touchy about me calling you that, I've been doing it for years!"
When England heard no reply, he turned to look at the Yank in question and wished he hadn't.
"Oh no."
America's smirk grew.
"I said no."
"Oh, come on, British boy! At least try and enjoy yourself!"
"I am enjoying myself, thank you very much. I do not need some burger loving buffoon whirling me around on a dance floor to have fun."
England knew that his ally was well aware that that was an outright lie. He certainly was not enjoying himself. He didn't even know why he'd come. He had always liked being on his own, he didn't need anyone else. He was a strong empire that needed subordinates and slaves, not friends. Countries looked up to him as the powerful Britannia – ruler of the waves. They feared him.
I am the powerful Great Brita…
Oh, who was he kidding? The world was changing rapidly, and England knew it all too well. Ever since that fateful day when he had found America in amongst the beautiful countryside of the New World, he didn't want to be alone anymore. He had felt the joy of having a younger brother who relied on him, someone to teach the ways of the world, to protect, not dominate. He had felt the pang of grief and pain on that day. He had known from that day that he couldn't survive without allies.
Without friends.
He was no longer powerful. In a world of independence and human rights, there was no place for a great empire such as his. In a world of technological advance, he was falling behind the likes of Japan and his own ex-protectorate. In a world of bright new culture, he was beginning to grey beside colourful countries like Italy and his arch nemesis, France.
He was old.
And as he settled his weary green eyes on the glowing figure before him, beaming from ear to ear, this fact hit him harder than ever.
"Come on, Nii-san, I promise I'll be gentle." He winked.
Before England could regain his senses and scold him for referring to him as his older brother, America had grabbed his arm and was dragging him towards the floor where Germany and Italy were spinning, unmindful of the world around them.
Well, Italy was.
Germany was far too aware of the whispers, and a bright pink adorned his cheeks.
"A-America! What are you doing?" England found himself standing face to face with the grinning idiot on the near empty floor, the other couple narrowly missing the two static countries mid-twirl.
"Well, at this particular moment in time I am standing in the middle of a dance floor, seemingly with no partner. Now this will not do at all."
With that, the American grasped one of England's hands and thrust it in the air, clasped to his own and put his other arm around the speechless older man's waist.
"D-don't do that, you useless oaf!"
"Put your hand on my shoulder."
"What? W-why am I the woman? I'm older than you!"
"And I'm taller than you."
England looked up into his ally's shining blue eyes.
"Touché."
"Dude, don't speak French at me!" America stuck his tongue out playfully and winked again.
England had to remind himself that he winked at everyone. He was by no means special to the American. There was nothing different about the way he looked at him and the way he looked at everyone else. Well, except maybe Ukraine, but who didn't look at her differently?
No matter how many times he told himself this, England couldn't help thinking that in that moment, America's smile, his eyes, his wink, his whole self was entirely devoted to the dirty blonde he held by the waist.
The music gracefully filling the serene silence. Those eyes – America's bright, glistening eyes, staring intently into his own, swimming with an excitement that only America could perfect. That beautiful smile playing on his lips, teasing the Brit, annoying the hell out of him, mocking every single thing he said like he was some sort of freak show to be laughed at, insulting him at every opportunity... But it was directed at him. So nothing else mattered. America could say whatever the hell he liked, but as long as he only said it to England, the older man could put up with it for hours. Days… months… hell, he could probably stay with this git for years. A pang of the same feeling he had on that day hit his chest hard.
A quick shake of the head soon removed that image from England's mind.
What is wrong with me?
America cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me, Miss, but aren't we forgetting something?"
England was about ready to explode, but refrained and placed his remaining hand on his ally's shoulder, simply to appease him and avoid further insult.
"Nii-san?"
Switzerland blinked. "Hm?"
He snapped himself out of the daze he had been in and noticed that Lichtenstein was looking worried.
"Nii-san has been staring at me for a while now, is there something on my face?" Surprised at her own suggestion, a suddenly self-conscious Lichtenstein blushed furiously and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve mercilessly.
"Wha-? No!" A hint of the same colour dusted Switzerland's cheeks as he scolded himself for not noticing the fact that he had been staring at her.
"Then what is it?" Lichtenstein relaxed slightly, safe in the knowledge that she had not embarrassed herself too much… so far.
"I-I… um…"
Quickly distracted, the young girl in his care looked over to the dance floor and gasped excitedly. "Does Nii-san want to dance with me?"
"N-no! I mean… I don't not want to, I… I mean…" He scowled and looked down at his folded hands. "I don't dance."
Lichtenstein lowered her gaze to a particularly detailed section of the embroidery on the table cloth. "Oh."
Switzerland's eyes snapped up and widened. No! I didn't want to make her sad! B-but… but I…
He looked at the purple ribbon in her hair. The ribbon he had bought for her on the day she cut her hair to look like his. The ribbon she was so attached to, refusing to go anywhere without it.
She's so cute…
He stood up, causing the table to shake and his little sister to follow him with her eyes and make a surprised sound.
"Lichtenstein," He knelt on one knee and offered a hand to her, bowing his head in the hope that she wouldn't notice the blood rising to his face. "Could I please have this dance?"
A small cough made Japan jump and look to his right where Greece was sitting beside him.
"Are you alright, Greece-san?"
The Grecian nodded with a tiny smile that he had only ever worn for Japan.
There was an awkward silence between them as they both watched the three couples on the dance floor. Germany's terrified grimace made his ally giggle, much to the amusement of Greece.
"It's a rare occurrence to see you laugh."
Japan blushed and hid his face self-consciously.
"I would like to see it more often, I think it is cute."
Japan's blush increased dramatically and he fought to keep his composure and not grin like an idiot.
He had seen his friend Italy mindlessly beam whenever Germany's carefully hidden emotions would slip and he said something that he didn't want anyone to hear. Not that Japan hadn't already guessed his feelings for the little Italian – he was known for ability to sense the mood – but he could also tell that Germany was not comfortable wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Nor was he quite able to come to terms with them in his own mind. One day, Japan vowed to assist Germany in his admittance, but not until the day he was asked. He was not one to interfere with other people's business.
Having cooled down, and confident that his face was a calmer shade, Japan looked back at the taller man beside him.
Greece was still smiling his sweet, exclusive smile and Japan's heart melted.
"Japan?"
"Hm?" The smaller, black-haired man merely hummed, afraid that his voice would break from embarrassment.
"Would you…"
Japan blinked expectantly.
"Would you like…" Greece's cheeks quickly became a violent shade of red and he shook his head, "Never mind."
"What is it, Greece-san?"
The taller man looked up through his eyelashes as his mind raced through different ways of asking the same question, searching for one that wouldn't scare Japan away.
"Would you like to… to…"
"Oh for goodness sake, he's asking you to dance!"
Both Japan and Greece snapped round in unison to locate the source of the outburst.
A masked figure draped in lavish red and white silk stood with his hands on his hips on the other side of the table, smirking. "But of course," It continued, "Japan only wishes to dance with me."
With that, the eccentric form leapt over the table, narrowly avoiding a candelabrum with his traditional Turkish footwear and extended a hand towards the frozen Japan.
"Turkey!" Greece stood up and fumed, the blush on his face turning from one of embarrassment to pure rage.
"Oh come now, Greece, do you really think that my Japan would want to be seen on a dance floor with the likes of you, the embodiment of sloth? You'd probably fall asleep three minutes into it!"
Greece paled. It was true that he had a tendency to fall asleep anywhere he went and was rather easy going when it came to… well, anything. But Japan didn't mind, did he?
"Sh-shut up!" the Grecian stuttered, eyebrows twitching.
"If you would kindly vacate the premises, Greece, and leave poor Japan alone. I'm sure he's sick of your lazy droning."
Turkey stood, triumphant as his nemesis visibly slumped, silently seething, his outstretched hand eager for the awaited warmth of Japan's.
"N-no! Japan wants to dance with me!" Determined not to lose so easily, Greece also extended his hand in Japan's direction.
"Ha! No way would Japan want to dance with you!"
"Well he wouldn't want to dance with you, you two-left-footed jester. No one would want to be seen dead anywhere near that outfit!"
Turkey huffed, glancing down at himself. "There is nothing wrong with my choice of clothing! Right, Japan?" He glared down at the confused Japanese man, "Japan?" He prompted again, only to be met by an apologetic bow. "What?"
The small man smiled, "Sumimasen, Turkey-san, but I would like to dance with Greece-san."
If Greece himself hadn't been so surprised by Japan's answer, he would have bent over laughing at the utterly defeated look on Turkey's face.
"I see." He sniffed, withdrawing his hand and lifting his chin. "Then I shall take my leave." Leaving his neighbour with one last death glare that promised revenge, Turkey glided away in a puff of comedy smoke.
Greece had not quite recovered from Japan's declaration, and was currently staring, mouth open, at the blushing black haired man in front of him.
"Eh?"
Japan coughed slightly with his hand over his mouth, the image making Greece want to drool. "Greece-san? I believe that we were going to dance."
The stunned Grecian nodded quickly and took Japan's hand.
It was only once they had reached the polished wooden surface of the dance floor that Greece chose to remember that he didn't know how to dance.
China felt a bead of cold sweat roll down the back of his neck, making its slow descent to his spine.
He could feel those eyes watching him, those bright lilac eyes that drove him to insanity. Those shining, excitable eyes that had him shying away because he knew of the terrible cruelty that was hidden behind them. Those terrifying eyes that drew him in because of their childish cuteness.
They were burning into the back of his head, he could sense them.
He often felt this paranoia when Russia was in the room. At meetings, China would be sitting quite innocently, listening to one of America's deluded dreams of saving the world in a way that included super powers and preferably food, or Germany speaking sensibly about realistic ways of conquering Global Warming – not that China had much enthusiasm on that particular subject – but he would sit through obediently, nonetheless, until he would sense the same eyes that distracted him now.
That man never seemed to grow tired of scorching holes in China's skull.
But the sensation of being watched by the scarily endearing giant was nothing compared to seeing that smile. The smile that faked virtue and naivety better than a dirty-faced five year old with their two front teeth missing. The smile that sent shivers down the spines of the world whenever it was unleashed. The smile that tugged at China's heart strings every time he saw it. And that was why it was so dangerous, because Russia knew that he could get whatever he wanted by just giving his little ally a flash of it.
And China knew exactly what the spine-chilling smile was being used for this time.
He would not react.
He would not be intimidated into doing something he didn't want to do.
He would not back down.
"China?"
"Fine! I'll dance with you-aru!" He blurted out, trembling in fear as the large figure of the Russian man loomed over him.
"Oh, really? I was going to ask you where the bathroom was, but I can wait."
Shit-aru!
"Wait, Russia, I-"
Without hesitation, a large hand enveloped China's – still shaking in fear – and dragged him onto the dance floor.
"Hey, Romano?"
"What is it, jerk?" The dark haired Italian gave his former employer an incredulous look, afraid that Spain's request would be the one he thought it would be. And even more afraid that a part of him actually wanted it to be the one he thought it would be.
"Do you wanna dance with me?"
Bingo. "No, why the hell would I want to dance with an idiot like you? We're both men for a start." Romano wasn't quite sure why he always ended up treating his friend like this, but somehow, he always managed to say the opposite of what he felt.
"Aw, come on, Romano, it didn't stop them." Spain motioned with his thumb behind him to the couples spinning around. "It'll be fun!"
"I highly doubt that." The rebellious man crossed his arms tightly against his chest. "I am not lowering myself to that. Just look at my brother and that potato bastard, they look like utter morons!"
Spain sighed, he knew he would get that reaction, but it didn't hurt to try.
"Please, Romano, just one little dance? I promise I'll let go of you when the songs finished." I promise I'll try to let go of you, anyway… The Spaniard doubted that he would be able to release the adorable man once he had him in his arms.
"Absolutely not. There is no way in hell I would ever dance with you."
No way in hell, huh? Well, I haven't got there yet!
With a new determination – and probably a pinch of stupidity –Spain grabbed Romano's arm and pulled him off the chair. "You're not getting your own way this time, little princess!"
"What the hell? Don't call me that, you jerk!"
"Aw, I'm sorry, is the little princess having a tantrum?"
"Let go of me!" Throughout their spat, Spain had managed to drag the reluctant Italian all the way into the centre of the dance floor. He was quite proud of himself for avoiding all the other dancers present, now that it was beginning to become popular.
"I said I'd let go of you when the song finishes!" The taller of the two manoeuvred their hands into position and started to step to the side. Unfortunately, it takes two to waltz, and one of the pair remained stubbornly static. "Come on, Romano, we've made it this far."
The Italian blushed, refusing to acknowledge the warm, fuzzy feeling that was developing in the pit of his stomach as he felt the pressure of his friend's hand against his own. "Alright, as long as you promise never to speak of this again, and certainly not repeat it in future."
"Promise." Behind Romano's back, Spain crossed his fingers.
"So, Su-san," Finland was running out of topics of conversation fast, and was desperate not to experience yet another awkward silence between them.
"Yes?" Sweden turned to face the smaller man and Finland squealed in fear, jumping a foot in the air.
"I-I… um…" Damn, he's scary…
"What is it, Finland?" Why does he always react this way? I'm just trying to be nice… I want to be his friend…
Sweden's oppressive aura did not disappear with his kind thoughts and Finland found himself again trembling as he looked into those cold, blue eyes.
"I-isn't it a beautiful room?" Searching through his mind for idle chatter opportunities, Finland measured Sweden's reaction.
"It-"
"Wah!" The small blonde man jumped again as a wave of intimidation hit him with Sweden's word.
Sweden sighed; he may as well give up. I was going to say 'It is, isn't it?' but now it just feels awkward.
Finland breathed heavily to regain his composure and glanced at Sweden again. He seemed to be considering his question and scanning the ornate hall. When he was looking at something that wasn't the Finn, Sweden was actually quite calm. His stern face relaxed slightly as he released a quiet sigh and Finland noticed a look in his eyes that he had never witnessed before. Flickering in the depths of those azure orbs was a pain that seemed to lie deep in the core of his being. It was a look of sadness and… loneliness.
For the first time since Finland had known Sweden, he recognised that his tall friend was, indeed, human. He felt emotion like any other. And in that moment, Finland could tell that loneliness had been festering inside of Sweden for years, despite his close proximity to him, the previously presumed heartless blonde had never really gotten to know anyone as more than an acquaintance.
"Su-san?"
When Sweden looked round that time, Finland did not shy away or scream; he looked him dead in the eyes and felt the terribly strong urge to hold him.
"Yes?" His words were still said with same conviction as always, but Finland could see through it now into a soul tortured with isolation and rejection.
"W-would you…" Suddenly, a new fear overcame him and his cheeks burned scarlet. "Um… would you l-like…"
Sweden tried to think of a way to ease his friend's anxiety and settled on a way he thought would calm him.
Unfortunately, the Swede had never been known for his people skills, and so his idea of making things less awkward – by putting an arm round a stuttering Finland – only heightened the Finn's nervousness.
"Ah! S-Su-san!"
"Yes?"
"Don't just put your arm around people! You have to ask them, first!"
Sweden tipped his head to the side, confused. "Okay then. Finland, could I please put my arm around you?"
"Ah! Don't say it like that!" Blood was rushing to Finland's face in waves of heat, although he was unsure why. The Swede had acted like this on many occasions before and it wasn't like it meant anything…
It doesn't, does it?
The Finn shook his head violently. "Ah!"
"I'm sorry," Sweden said, withdrawing his arm. "I thought it would make you feel better."
"Um… well… it's just I wasn't expecting it…"
"Oh. Well, you are expecting it now." Confident that he was free to act as he pleased again, Sweden reinstated his arm into its position around Finland.
The smaller blonde merely bowed his head. "You just don't get it, do you?"
Before long, the Finn found himself laughing. Laughing at all the times Sweden had done something so socially unacceptable as if it were the norm. From the night they ran away from Denmark's place together, and he had wrapped himself around the smaller man to keep him warm to the day he introduced Finland as his wife, and so many times after that. Every day with Sweden would bring an unexpected twist of insanity. Only now, when Finland wasn't too self-conscious and embarrassed to appreciate it, could he truly see just how hilarious the whole thing was.
"What are you laughing at?" Sweden looked down at the man under his arm.
"You. I am laughing at you."
The Swede didn't know whether to be offended, or if this was some sort of normal show of camaraderie.
"What? Why are you laughing at me? What have I done that is so funny?"
On any other day, Finland would have been scared out of his mind by the look on Sweden's face, but behind joyful eyes and tears of mirth, all he could do was stand up and offer the terrifying man his hand. "Everything. Now shut up and dance with me."
Austria stood on the balcony high above the dance floor observing his guests, proud of how things had turned out. At the beginning of the evening, he had been afraid that everyone would feel too awkward to dance, his fears soon turned out to be correct, but thanks to a confident little Italian man named Feliciano Vargas, his ball was a success.
As he watched the happy couples on the beautiful chestnut stage, he couldn't help but think how terribly strange that man was. Austria hadn't thought when he had invited the countries to his house for a Christmas Eve celebration that most of them would choose to dance in male pairs. In all of his years as a great host of parties and balls, he had never witnessed two men dancing a waltz together. And now, there dozens of them!
The world really is changing fast.
Straining his ears, he could make out certain countries as they twirled around the floor.
"Veee~! Faster, Germany, faster!"
"That's my foot, you Yankee git!"
"Careful, Lichtenstein, don't trip!"
"I… pant… don't think… pant… I've ever… pant… done so much… pant… exercise…."
"Ah! No, stop-aru! Let go-aru!"
"You're doing it wrong, you jerk!"
"Su-san! Don't put your hand there!"
Well, it was going as well as could be expected from a group of male countries shoved together on a dance floor, at least there hadn't been a collision…
…yet.
With a sad smile, Austria wished he could be down there with them, enjoying the bright lights and the loud beat of the music driving his feet round, holding a lovely girl in his arms, gazing into her eyes, relishing in the angelic smile-
"Austria~!"
His eyes widened a fraction, before he held his face in his hand. "What do you want, France?"
Please, anyone but him!
"You looked lonely up here all by yourself, so I thought I would come up and keep you company."
Just leave me alone…
The strict etiquette of hosting nagged at the back of Austria's mind and he reminded himself to be polite, even if it was to the insufferable Frenchman.
"Oh no, dear guest, please do not worry about me, go back down and have fun."
"But, Austria, I cannot leave you here all alone! Come down and dance with me!"
Not until hell freezes over, frog.
Austria shivered at the memory of the time he and Germany had caught France spying and found all those pictures of the oblivious Austrian. Why, of all people, does he have to have this unhealthy obsession with me?
Austria was unaware of the fact that France had an unhealthy obsession with everyone.
"Come on, Austria, think of it as my way of saying thank you for such a wonderful party!"
"No, no, I'll be quite alright here, I assure you."
"Oh don't be like that; you're missing all the fun!"
"Really, France, thank you for your offer, but I insist…"
"But Austria, it is such beautiful music, no? It would be a shame not to make use of it."
You really are a persistent little bugger, aren't you?
"France, I am fine, now please just-"
"YOUR VITAL REGIONS ARE MINE!"
Austria face-palmed for the second time that night. Okay, when I said 'anyone' but France, I meant anyone apart from him.
"Come here, Roddy! This party just got awesome!"
Austria cursed the guards on the door for letting him in. I told the specifically not to allow him into my house!
"What's wrong with you?" Prussia asked, standing, bold as brass in front of him, hands on hips, red eyes full of humour.
Austria growled. "You are what's wrong with me! How on earth did you get in here?"
The silver haired male winked. "Oh, I have my ways."
"I don't think I even want to know. Just leave, now."
"But, Roddy, I came all this way for a good time and you're gonna make the awesome me walk back to my house so late at night in this snow?" He pouted and Austria felt his rage swell once more.
"I don't care how you do it, just leave!"
"Excuse me, Austria; this man is bothering you, no?" France chose this moment to stand up for the gorgeous Austrian that happened to be the focus of his affection this particular evening. Well, everyone else was already taken.
"And who exactly are you to decide who is bothering Roddy or not?" Prussia turned his full attention to the blonde that had interrupted his conversation with his beloved Austria. "You little cheese eating surrender monkey."
France trembled under the scrutiny of his crimson gaze and backed away, living up to his reputation as a coward. "N-no one, sir, I was just leaving…" Without another word, France squeaked and fled down the stairs to the dance floor to find the country that was certain to not have a partner yet. The one with the polar bear… What was his name again…?
"Well, at least you got rid of one of my problems." Austria sighed. Why couldn't he just have a nice relaxing evening with friends and enjoy Christmas uneventfully? He had thought it was going too well before France showed up…
"Ha, that France is a right pansy." Prussia said, taking his place next to Austria and leaning over the balcony. "And so, it appears, is West."
His eyes immediately fell on his younger brother, Germany, spinning around the floor clutching Italy for dear life as the smaller nation whizzed them round in tight circles.
"He can't even lead when he's dancing with that hyper Italian puffball."
Austria frowned at Prussia's insults. "You shouldn't be so callous, Prussia. It's not polite."
"Whatever. It's not my fault that everyone else isn't as awesome as I am."
"No, but it is however your fault that you cannot form grammatically correct sentences." Austria couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his enemy's face.
"I can too!"
"You obviously cannot, as you have proved on many occasions whilst in my presence."
"Alright, alright, keep your patched up knickers on!" Austria's eyebrow twitched. "We're not all snobby nobles like you, you know."
"Maybe not, but it would be nice of you to not trespass in future."
"Trespass? When?" Prussia's bright eyes shone like fresh blood as he studied the grinning aristocrat before him. Mm… I just want to jump him right now. I'll get his vital regions whether he likes it or not!
"Right now, you dimwit, you are not invited." Despite the malice he intended to be in his voice, Austria's warning came out a little too lightly for his liking.
"Aw, now why wouldn't you invite the awesome me?"
"Because you are self-centred, reckless, outrageously outspoken, laughably stupid and frankly dangerous to have within a fifty mile radius of one's self."
Prussia clutched his stomach as his laughter poured out. Tears came to his eyes as he watched the cautious Austrian's lips twitch upwards, the beauty spot just beneath his lip dancing slightly.
"You know you love me really. I'm too awesome to hate!"
Austria pouted, trying futilely to hide the humour in his eyes.
"Ha! It's true! Roddy loves me!"
"Damn you, you stupid Prussian, for the last time, don't call me that!"
Prussia straightened up and wiped the evidence of his mirth from his eyes.
Well, he didn't deny it, that's all the invitation I need.
Before another wave of hilarity ensued, he grabbed Austria's hand and hauled the dazed Austrian down towards the dance floor.
Hungary, meanwhile was frantically trying to scream around her gag, tied up tightly from head to toe in finest red velvet curtain tie-back, crouched in the tiny pitch black space that was the towel storage room on the third floor.
They'll find her in the morning… Prussia chuckled to himself as he pulled Austria into his arms.
The evening continued in a similar fashion, not one of the couples dancing vacated the floor when the song changed, or the next song, despite Spain's promise.
As the chandeliers were dimmed to utilize the glow of the full moon shining in through the great French windows that occupied one of the walls in the ball room, the countries of the world danced in its light, basking in the beauty of it. Each of them happy in the knowledge that they were not alone on this Earth.
As the last of the music faded, the couples slowed until the whole room became still.
"See, Roddy, aren't you glad I brought you down here, now?"
Austria pouted. "I suppose. But if you keep calling me that, I will leave you here without a partner."
"Aw, come on, Roddy, you wouldn't do that to me."
The aristocrat sighed and frowned as he realised that what Prussia had said was absolutely true. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want it to end. Prussia's arms had somehow managed to snake their way around his waist, but he didn't want to push them away. Every so often, he would threaten to abandon the silver haired man, but his threats were empty. He hated to admit it to himself, but he had actually enjoyed the evening, and he was still enjoying Prussia's company.
He had always hated Prussia. He was loud, brash, rude and completely self-obsessed. Maybe not the complete opposite of himself, but different enough. Whenever something went wrong, it always seemed to be Prussia's fault in some way shape or form, whether he had a direct or indirect influence on the matter, he would strive to do whatever he could do make Austria's life hell. He would always come in and make him jump while playing the piano. If the aristocrat had one pet hate it would be being interrupted mid-song. He would always invade his personal space – and my vital regions, damnit!
But regardless of all his faults, Prussia made Austria feel alive. No one could make the noble feel so many emotions in such a short space of time as the cocky Prussian could. One minute he would be seething in anger, and then the next laughing uncontrollably. And when the silver haired maniac wasn't there, Austria would feel so bored and alone.
"Hey," Austria was pulled out of his thoughts by a nose nudging his own.
"What?"
"It's awfully cold outside."
"I know. It is the middle of winter, dimwit."
"It's awfully snowy outside. It looks like really hard stuff to get through."
"I had noticed. I am not blind."
"It's awfully icy outside, I wouldn't want to slip on my way home in the middle of the night and injure myself."
Austria raised an eyebrow.
"It's awfu-"
"Alright, alright! You can stay!"
Prussia's eyes lit up and he beamed from ear to ear. "You love me."
"Did I say that?"
"Nope. But you know it's true."
"How do you know it's true?"
"That fact that you haven't actually denied it yet, and that your face is glowing like a tomato."
This only made Austria blush deeper.
"See, I'm right, as always." The Prussian playfully stuck his tongue out and winked.
I guess you are. Austria thought, although he would never admit it out loud.
"You can let go of me now, you git."
America simply closed his eyes and rested his chin on England's head, keeping his arms firmly in place around the Brit's waist.
"I said-"
"Would you just shut up for one minute?"
England scowled into his former colony's neck, biting back the urge to kiss it. He would never do such a thing, it was absurd. However, he was in a rather uncomfortable position, so he wrapped his arms around the body in front of him. Purely for convenience. Obviously.
The two stayed silent. Merely listening to the sound of other's breathing. England felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, safe in America's arms, he knew he was wanted. Even though I bet he's imagining I'm some woman right now. England shivered at the thought and then his heart sank a little. What if he is pretending I'm someone else? Is he just using me a sort of heated blanket?
Why do I care?
The Brit shook his head and his hair tickled America's chin.
"Hey, don't do that!" The taller man laughed.
"Oh, sorry." The tone of England's voice made the taller nation narrow his eyes in concern.
"It doesn't matter. What were you shaking your head at anyway, Iggy?"
"If you ever call me that again, I swear you will not be able to father children."
"Dude, who says I want to father children?"
"Fine then, you won't have the equipment required for fathering children, whether you want to or not."
"Ouch."
England couldn't help but smile as America's chest shook with laughter.
"Anyway, you didn't answer my question."
"What was it again?"
"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easily. You know exactly what my question was, you are merely avoiding it. And the fact you are makes me even more curious as to what it is you're refraining from telling me."
"Careful, you nearly sounded intelligent then."
"Arthur." All of the humour was gone from America's voice as he pulled back to look at his ally in the eye. "Tell me what's wrong. Whenever you avoid a question I know it's something big."
"There is nothing wrong with me." But the blush on England's cheeks was determined to give him away.
"Why won't you tell me?"
If only he could see himself, The Brit inwardly smiled as he saw the fully matured America before him with serious eyes and a concerned frown. Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles, His inner mother scolded.
It's been so long since I looked after you. You've grown so big. I'm proud of you, my Little America, even though I act like I don't care sometimes, I do. I hope you know that I don't mean it when I say I hate you. My dear little brother, now you have no need for me to be here with you I don't know why I stay. I feel useless. If I had my way, you'd still be two feet tall and clinging onto my trouser legs, curious about everything, wanting to know about everything, and I would still teach you. You don't need teaching anymore, sometimes, you even teach me. It feels weird, you being bigger and stronger than me. I even find myself being inspired by you sometimes, wanting to follow in your footsteps. It's strange how we've changed places, isn't it?
The world used to seem like such a big place, and I was always ready to protect you from it, but now, it's so small. Everyone knows everything about everywhere. There is no place unexplored, there are boundaries to the Earth. It's like there's nothing new to discover, no reason to keep going if everything stays the same. But with you, my Little America, every day seems to shine with possibilities. Every step I take closer to you, the world stretches out before me even wider than before. There is something about you that makes me want to live again, to be strong like I used to be. Like I used to be before that day.
The day that you grew up.
I still remember the pulling in my chest that I felt when you pointed your gun at me. The ache in my stomach. The urge to hold you in my arms and kiss your head and pretend that nothing was going to change. That I could still look after you.
That's all I ever wanted. To see you thrive and protect you from all the dangers of the outside world. All the strangers that wished you harm, all the hardships life threw at you, I wanted to be the one to shield you. I wanted to be the shoulder you cried on. But I was a fool to think that you still needed caring for. You were much bigger than me. I was useless against the foes you seemed to brush aside like they were mere flies.
But I guess that's just the cover story. Most of all, I didn't want you to become independent because I didn't want to be alone. After all the years of solitude, after all the years of getting by without any help, I found you in that field of flowers in the New World and I knew that I didn't want to be alone anymore. I've seen you grow up. I've seen you make mistakes, and I was there to pick up the pieces, and I didn't want to lose the warmth you gave me when you smiled. When I saw your beautiful bright blue eyes looking up at me full of admiration.
I was ashamed when you saw me that day. Slumped in the mud, rain soaking my beaten body. I didn't want you to look at me with pity; I wanted you to see me in all my glory, just as it was before. I didn't want you to think I was weak, but I am. Compared to you, my Little America, I am nothing.
Yet you still look at me. You still talk to me. You are still here, holding me like I mean something to you. You have never abandoned me, as I have never abandoned you. We are always there for each other, even though I am of little help nowadays. But you stay by my side when I pick fights. You have fought with me for freedom and ridiculous insignificant matters of politics. Although we argue and say harsh words to each other, we never leave the other to suffer. You are always there when I need you.
I never thought I'd need someone like I've needed you. Like I still need you. You have grown up and changed so much, but at the same time you haven't changed at all.
I love you, America. I always have and I always will.
He found a tiny smile on his face as he finished the speech in his head that would never be heard by anyone other than himself.
"What is it, Arthur?" America's eyes still held the deep shadow of concern.
"One day, I will tell you." England reached up and smoothed his ally's brow, removing the lines of worry. "Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles."
Italy drew his gaze away from the stunning blonde centimetres away from him to glance at the stars. Whenever he looked at them, his head would be filled with happy memories of the night he saw a shooting star with Germany on the battlefield. The night his wish had come true. His amber eyes soaked up every speck of light in the sky, savouring the delicate pinpricks and making a note to watch them with Germany more often.
Snowflakes drifted peacefully to the ground and made patterns in the air. The little Italian followed the trails of white fluff on their descent and his smile broadened when he saw the thick blanket on the ground. His face lit up with anticipation for the next day, when he and Germany could have snow ball fights and build snowmen.
All the time Italy was absorbed in observing the night sky, his partner was gazing at his boyish face. There was so much excitement in those golden eyes, so much hope for the future. And Germany realised that as long as that hope remained with Italy, he had hope, too.
Ever since that annoying bundle of joyful hyper activity bounced into his life the day he opened that box of tomatoes, Germany had felt a strange warmth in his stomach. He had had never felt it before, but he wanted it to stay.
At first, he had blamed it on having a friend. He had never been close to anyone before, and the sensation overwhelmed him with happiness, but he had gained many more friends since then, and none of them seemed to have the same effect on him as Italy did. His other friends made him feel happy, of course, Japan and more recently the Allied Powers since the war ended, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he was with Italy.
And without him.
Germany was used to being alone; he had coped in isolation for years, not needing anything from anyone. But now, whenever his little Italian wasn't by his side, rambling on about pasta or something new that excited him, he would feel empty. It was like there was an Italy shaped hole inside him.
But it was filled now, and that was all that mattered.
"Germany~! Look, the snow is so beautiful!"
Casting his eye over to the window once, Germany caught a glimpse of the glistening white powder, but it paled in comparison to his Italy, and so he returned his eyes to that wonderful face.
"Ve, we should have a snowball fight tomorrow, Germany! And then build a snowman, and then go sledging, and then have a long, hot bath with lots of bubbles and then have pasta and hot chocolate, and then we can watch the snow fall at night and see if we can see another shooting star!" The little brunette paused and took a deep breath, seemingly having not taken one throughout his little speech.
"Of course, Italy. But when will you open your presents?"
The small, hyper bundle looked downright mortified. "Ve! How could I forget presents? Germany, Germany! Can we open our presents first?"
The German laughed and placed a gloved hand on Italy's head. "Whatever you want to do."
"Veee~!"
For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them as Germany played with the auburn locks of hair – carefully avoiding the single curl that would cause a problem he didn't want to have to solve in public – and Italy silently imagined all the fantastic things he could do with Germany the next day.
He loved spending Christmas day with Germany, he had so many strange traditions that Italy found fascinating. He loved spending every day with Germany, but Christmas was special. Christmas was when Germany relaxed and took a break from work. Christmas was their day to spend together how they wished.
Italy loved Christmas because Italy loved Germany.
Suddenly, something green caught his eye above them.
"Germany, look!" The little Italian jumped up and down where he stood, pointing up at the ceiling, and Germany raised an eyebrow. "Look! Veee~!"
The blonde lifted his chin to see what was getting Italy so excited. When he found the source of the delight, his face turned a bright shade of pink very quickly.
"M-Mistletoe?"
The whole room raised their eyes to find dozens of tiny sprigs hanging from the gold-leaf laden ceiling. Various whispers of 'How on Earth did he do that?' and 'Um, I think we better move' could be heard echoing throughout the room. Even the host himself seemed surprised at the sudden appearance of the berries above them.
"Oh, sure you didn't know about it." Prussia grinned, revelling in the fact he finally had an excuse to ravish Austria, and under mistletoe, the aristocrat couldn't struggle.
"I honestly have no idea how that stuff got up there."
Prussia rolled his eyes. "Stop babbling and kiss me, you fool."
Without further ado, the tall silver haired man leant forward and crushed his lips against the hesitant Austrian's. Hesitant only for a second though, as Prussia soon found his attack being countered as the soft lips beneath his started moving in harmony with him. Austria raised his arms and placed them around the other man's neck, grasping at that silver hair, pulling it hard as Prussia's tongue stuck out and pleaded for entrance.
I'll let him have this one…
"What is that?" Sweden asked, stepping back from his dance partner to stare at the ceiling.
Finland was burying his face in his hands, refusing to look at the tall blonde. "Nothing, it's nothing, let's go."
Sweden looked around the room at the other blushing faces. "It doesn't look like nothing."
The Finn took this opportunity to fake ignorance and take advantage of Sweden's. "Oh, it's not important, just another decoration, I'm going to go home now. Bye!"
"It looks like mistletoe to me. Oh, so that's why everyone looks embarrassed."
Sweden's statement shattered Finland's hopes of a quick escape.
"Well," The taller man's oppressive aura had the Finn shaking in his shoes once more. I thought I'd gotten over this…
"Su-san, we don't need to do anything, it's just a silly- Mmph!"
His words were cut short by a pair of lips silently covering his own. As Finland grew accustomed to the sensation, he found that they were not hard and powerful like he had thought they would be, but soft and gentle. He was actually beginning to like the feeling when Sweden pulled away.
Finland pushed the disappointed sinking in his chest aside and simply stood, dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry." Sweden said, the same terrifying glow present in his face, but Finland ignored it. He did something he would most probably regret in later life. He grabbed the Swede's tie and pulled him down for another kiss.
For a while, Sweden was unresponsive and remained bent over with his eyes wide, but the feeling rising in his chest told him that he was happy. That he had finally found someone to share his life with, and he held the Finn in his embrace tightly, never wanting to let go.
"Don't you dare get any ideas, you jerk."
Spain was looking up at the greenery dangling from the ceiling. "Aw, but Romano, it's mistletoe, I have to kiss you, for tradition's sake."
The now giddy Spaniard reached out and tried to grab Romano's shoulder, failing miserably as the Italian swiftly dodged.
"I said no. I am not kissing you."
"Fine then." Spain placed his hands on his hips defiantly. "You can make your own way home tonight."
Romano was about to shrug it off, but one look outside through the window made him reconsider. "You wouldn't make me go home on my own in that would you?" The little brunette raised one eyebrow; he knew he could win this way because Spain would never compromise his safety.
"You don't have to go back on your own. What about your brother?"
Romano scoffed. "You think that potato bastard would let him go to his own home for Christmas? No, he's far too selfish for that. He always steals Feliciano away at this time of year."
Spain's face softened slightly and the smaller man knew he had won. "You mean you're going to be alone at Christmas?"
Romano frowned. "I always am nowadays. Feliciano loves that potato bastard more than he loves me."
The Spaniard crumbled as he saw the look of complete rejection on his favourite Italian's face. "Would you like to spend Christmas with me?"
An eyebrow twitched.
"Come on, we'll both be alone, so why not celebrate together?"
A fist clenched.
"I have lots of decorations up; it's so pretty back at my place."
A lip quivered.
"And there will be plenty of food. Lots and lots of tomatoes-"
"Fine! Fine! I'll stay with you for Christmas."
Although the look on his face was one of indifference, Romano's heart leapt with joy.
Until he felt a warm pressure on his lips, and then it stopped completely.
"W-mph-tr-mph-you-mph-d-mph-ng-mph!" The small dark haired man tried in vain to pull away, but Spain's grip was tight on his shoulder.
Suddenly, the Spaniard drew back slightly so their noses were touching and Romano missed the soft wetness of his lips.
"Just shut up and enjoy it."
And for once in his life, Romano complied.
"Mph-aru!"
Russia grinned into the kiss. He was much bigger and stronger than China, so the black haired man beneath him didn't stand a chance.
But he still tried.
He pushed against the Russian giant's chest with his puny hands uselessly. He, who could beat up a dragon with a Hello Kitty plushie, was powerless against Russia.
The Russian's kiss replicated his facial expression. On the outside, it was soft and sweet, but deep within that mouth was a strong, forceful lust.
The Chinese man was terrified.
Japan coughed behind his hand, a warm blush spreading rapidly across his face. "I… think that now would be an appropriate time to take my leave…"
His dance partner lowered his head. "Oh… yes."
The smaller black haired man noticed the disappointment in Greece's face and panicked. "Oh, I mean – I don't not want to… um… well, I don't think… it's late and… and I should be getting home, the snow looks awfully bad and wouldn't want it to get worse." He bowed, hiding his worried eyes with his fallen bangs.
"You don't have to go all that way."
Greece's small voice made Japan jump slightly. "Sorry?"
The taller man averted his gaze, trying to look anywhere but the adorable blushing country in front of him. "It looks dangerous out there; you might hurt yourself going all the way back to your place."
"I have no alternative."
"My place is much closer…" The Grecian found a nearby marble bust to focus on. The smooth curves of the sparkling stone calming him slightly as he studied the contours of some unknown Austrian historical figure.
Japan quickly caught onto what he was suggesting, despite his reluctance to ask the question.
"Unless you don't want to, that's perfectly fine; I mean you probably don't want to be away from home at Christmas…"
"I don't actually celebrate Christmas that much."
"O-of course, how silly of me… to forget…" Greece's face felt as if it was on fire and his heart was beating so fast that he almost missed Japan's answer.
"I'd love to stay with you. Arigatou."
"Wh-what?" The Grecian finally found the strength to look his partner in the eye, but immediately regretted it as his previous urges returned. It's mistletoe… I'm sure Japan won't mind… it's tradition, nothing more… wait – do the Japanese even kiss under mistletoe?
"I said I'd love to stay with you, Greece-san." He said with a small bow.
The tiny smile on Japan's lips made it irresistible to go for it. Taking a deep breath, Greece leant forward and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on the unprepared Japanese man's mouth.
Drawing back immediately, he felt his heart sink as Japan simply stood there with his hand to his lips.
"I am sorry! I shouldn't have-"
Greece's sentence was cut short as Japan stretched up on the tips of his toes to return the kiss.
"You do not have to apologise, Greece-san."
"Nii-san! Mistletoe!"
Switzerland refused to look at the small girl's pleading pout. It was too tempting. "Let's go home, Lichtenstein."
"B-but, Nii-san…"
That voice.
That sweet little voice that made him feel dreadful for doing anything.
"It's late and we need to get home before the snow gets worse."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lichtenstein's head bow slightly. "Oh, yes, of course, Nii-san…"
Damnit! I can't take it any longer! Why does she have to be so… so…
His gaze finally shifted fully onto the girl in front of him and he heard a quiet sniff.
So damn cute!
Closing eyes and feeling warmth flush in his cheeks; Switzerland placed two fingers beneath his little sister's chin and placed a quick kiss on her pouting lips.
"Let's go home, Lichtenstein."
"No."
Grin.
"No."
Smirk.
"No."
Twinkle.
"I said no, you bloody git! Don't you dare!"
America didn't need more consent than that. Hell, the guy was practically begging to be kissed!
"Don't you- MPH!"
Wrapping his strong arms around England's smaller frame, he captured the protesting man's lips mid protest.
Well this was no fun at all; it was like kissing one of those boring statues at England's place that he treasured so dearly for reasons America would never fully comprehend. Determined to liven things up, America rolled his hips into his former guardian's.
A satisfying 'squeak' was emitted from the smaller blonde and America took full advantage of his slightly parted lips as he gasped.
He delved deep into the cavern of England's mouth with his eager tongue, resolute on getting a reaction.
And what a reaction.
America grinned into the kiss as he felt two hands tugging at his hair, fingernails grazing his scalp. A battle for dominance ensued, neither of the two nations willing to submit to the other. England was the older, but as America had pointed out earlier in the evening, his ex-protectorate was taller and stronger.
But, boy did the Brit put up a fight where pride was concerned.
Tongues tangled in an endless struggle, a strange form of dance between the two. They chose to never break for air, in the fear that the other may take advantage of the temporary loss of concentration, instead raking in quick gasps around their partner's lips whenever space became available. Teeth clashed in wave after wave of unrelenting onslaught. Both men knowing that they would have prominent cuts and bruises in the morning, and both deciding that they didn't care.
America towered over his ally and eventually forced England to surrender to the new global super-power, much in the same way as he had done on that fateful Fourth of July back in 1776.
The resemblance made England shudder slightly.
America beamed around the sucking, nipping, licking mouth of his ally, honestly curious as to why he had never attempted this before.
Because I wouldn't have lived another day, that's why.
An Englishman's pride is never to be taken lightly. No matter how big he may be, he will always fight like a terrier when his dignity and honour was at stake.
America knew this well – having been on the receiving end of said terrier's teeth multiple times – and that was what made his friend's behaviour on this occasion so strange. It wasn't like England to do this sort of thing in public. He was well known for his gallantry and courteousness when it came to matters of civility.
But this, this was something America had never seen before, and didn't ever expect to see from such a stuck-up, pompous snob.
And it was perfectly alright for America to think of him that way. Because no matter how stuck-up or pompous or snobbish England was…
… He stilled loved the old man to bits.
Which is why he absolutely had to cause this behaviour again.
Pleased with his little plan, America basked in the warmth of England's mouth, mapping out each and every crevice and storing it in his memory alongside all of the other wonderful moments he had shared with his England.
"England! England! Come out and play with me!"
The teenager in question whirled around from his stance over the teapot to see a small boy beaming up at him, holding onto a football as if his life depended on it.
"Pweeease!"
How could he say no to that face?
The face that had captured his heart the very first time he laid eyes on it and refused to let go. The face that had given him a reason for living in the cruel, harsh world of cold reality. The face that had given him a purpose and that he would never stop fighting for. He would always be there to chase away the ghosts under his bed. The shadows that went 'bump' in the night. The other countries that would take advantage of his innocence and strip him of everything he had. England knew this world, but he was young, he had no experience with tricksters and traitors. He was naïve.
That was why England would always be there for him, to be his knight in shining armour, like the ones in the bed-time stories he read to his little brother.
"Alright then, but quickly, I have to go back to Europe soon."
"Aw! Why does England have to go? This house is big and scary when I'm on my own!"
The frightened blue eyes that pleaded with him tore him apart.
"I'll always be on the other end of the phone, okay? Remember I'm always here for you."
Another flash of that heart-stopping smile that he had been perfecting for months to pull all the right strings did exactly what it had been unveiled to do and England melted.
"Just one game."
The small boy grinned in victory.
England never kept his promises.
America had always been an obnoxious spoiled little brat. But no matter how obnoxious or spoilt or bratty America was…
… England loved the young man to bits.
And he had to admit that it was somewhat his own fault that America grew up that way. In fact, it was entirely his fault.
But nothing in the world could make the Brit change his feelings about his ally now, for they had been accumulating inside his heart for centuries, and even though they had altered slightly from the brotherly affection he had felt in the field of the New World, they were stronger than ever. England loved America completely. Vulgarities, gluttony, greed, obnoxiousness, temper tantrums, bad decisions, nuclear weapons and all.
Why?
Why me?
Why this?
Why did that bloody Austrian have to put mistletoe, of all things, on the bloody ceiling?
"Ve~ Germany!"
Please, don't even look at me.
The irritated blonde held his face in his hands, trying desperately to hide the furious blush adorning his cheeks.
It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss Italy; it was that he was afraid that he would just be disappointed afterwards, when Italy thought of it as just another sign of their friendship and carried on as usual.
"Ve~! Come on, Germany! It's mistletoe! Ve~! Wasn't Austria thoughtful?"
Germany shook his head. It was just a kiss. He'd kissed Italy before. Why was it so damn difficult this time? Nothing had changed…
"Germany?" The serious tone of the usually squealing Italian's voice made Germany remove his hands to look at the concerned expression on his best friend's face.
"Yes, Italy?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Does Germany not want to kiss me?"
"No! No, that's not it all." In fact it's quite the opposite…
It was all too much for the German. The dimmed lights, the rays of the moon casting beautiful white curves on Italy's face, the atmosphere all around them as couples one by one upheld tradition. While dancing with the small nation that he held close to his heart, Germany had realised that it was not only Italy's friendship he wanted, he wanted more. He wanted all of the Italian to belong to him, and him alone. The thought of being without him made the German's stomach sick with an aching akin to none that he had experienced before.
The expression on the adorable face looking expectantly up at him was heart wrenching. He looked so… disappointed. Germany couldn't bear that face any longer. There was no time like the present.
"I-Italy!" He said, somewhat louder than he had intended, evident from the fact that the smaller country backed away slightly, wincing at the German's harsh tone.
"Eh?"
"I-I'm sorry… I…" The words refused to come out of Germany's mouth. "I… I-I…"
The only way he could see himself getting out of this situation was to resort to his own language. He always found it easier to say when he knew Italy couldn't understand.
With a sigh, he admitted his feelings in the only way he could. "Ich liebe dich, Italien. Ich habe immer dich geliebt."
At first, the Italian looked truly flummoxed, but then an air of understanding struck and Germany's heart sank.
"Ti amo anche, Germania!"
Germany had to step back. "Was? I mean – What?"
"I love you, too, Germany!" Italy beamed, completely misinterpreting the German's shock.
"N-no, I know what it meant, I just… When did you learn German?"
"Oh, I've always known what that meant since we became allies. How else was I supposed to chat up pretty ladies at your place?"
Germany's mouth dropped, along with his stomach. "S-so you mean… every time I said that… thinking you… you mean you knew?"
"Of course!"
It took most of the blonde's strength not to faint on the spot, but that would have been very damaging to his pride, if not his back.
"I've always known that Germany loves me! And I love Germany too! I love spending time with you, I love watching you cook and clean and work and get angry and shout at me… well, actually I don't like it when you shout at me, but it's okay because I know Germany doesn't mean it and that he loves me!"
Germany honestly couldn't think of anything to say to that.
He also had no idea how to initiate a kiss under mistletoe.
Should it just be a peck? Oh no, that might be too much of a 'just-a-friendly-thing' kind of kiss. Is that what Italy wants? What if he wants more? How do I tell? I'm just no good at this romantic business!
The expectant expression on the small Italian's face was not helping matters.
"Ve~ Germany. Ti amo, io amo Germania piu di niente!"
He couldn't deny him anything. He knew at that moment the little Italian had him wrapped around his finger.
Just do it. Just lean forward and do it. It can't be that hard.
Taking one last breath, Germany lowered his head so that his nose was touching Italy's.
As the clock struck midnight and the hall was filled with the hollow chime, alerting them to the new day, Germany whispered onto the smaller nation's lips before joining them with his own.
"Merry Christmas, mein Liebling."
AN: Did anyone else find China's thought: 'Shit-aru!' absolutely hilarious? New favourite word! I would give anything to hear him say it! :P
Translations~
'Sumimasen' = Sorry. - Japanese
'Ich liebe dich, Italien. Ich habe immer dich geliebt.' = I love you, Italy. I have always loved you. - German
'Ti amo anche, Germania!' = I love you, too, Germany! - Italian
'Was?' = What? - German
'Ti amo, io amo Germania piu di niente!" = I love you, I love Germany more than anything! - Italian
'Mein Liebling." = My darling. - German
Apologies for any wrong translations, I Google Translated the Italian and Japanese. The German I did myself, so that's probably wrong. :P
Thank you to xXMidnightWingsXx for beta-reading this for me! I love you, Matty! 3 x
I hope everyone has a safe and loving Christmas and New Year filled with joy and frivolity! Have fun in the snow if you have any, guys and I hope Santa got you everything you asked for!
– So here it is, Merry Christmas! Everybody's having fun! Look to the future now, it's only just begu~n! – Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy soul! With a corn cob pipe and a button nose, and two eyes made out of coal! – Well I wish it could be Christmas every da~y! When the kids start singing and the band begins to pla~y! – Snow is falling, all around me! Children playing, having fun! It's the season, love and understanding…
Merry Christmas, everyone!
Lots of festive love and hugs,
iFluffRaver (aka Italy – Veee~!)