Germany did not particularly like the holidays. For one, people were constantly telling him take a break and stop working, and he always disliked it when people found excuses to be lazy. Second, Christmas inevitably meant a plethora of Christmas parties, which Germany found himself forced into attendance by an over-enthusiastic Christmas maniac. (Read: America.)

Germany was not a party person. He did not approve of 'bringing down the house', as his brother Prussia so artfully put it. He also did not know how to 'bring on the funk', as many of these Christmas parties usually resulted in drunken revelry.

But other than those two issues, the holidays weren't too unbearable, and Germany usually muddled through it with as much grace and tact as he could manage.

This year, everything would be different. This year, Germany was dating – as in, officially dating, living-together-in-the-same-house dating – the most festive man he had ever met: Italy.

From the dawn of December 1st, Italy had tackled their house and transformed it beyond recognition. Red and green hung, glittered, and sparkled over and on top of every conceivable surface, accompanied by a flurry of Christmas decorations which included, but was not limited to, flashing lights, Christmas trees (plural), artificial snow, and snowmen.

So. Many. Snowmen.

Germany bore it all in good spirit, and eventually he even grew to like the holiday atmosphere. Italy's cheer was infectious, and he found himself smiling more often than he usually did, which Italy delighted in. He had even gotten into the holiday spirit enough to bake Vanillekipferl, a type of German Christmas cookie which Italy devoured faster than Germany could bake.

So all in all, the holiday season – his first with Italy as an official couple – was shaping up rather nicely, until he hit a bit of a roadblock. This roadblock was courtesy of Austria, by way of the ever-scheming, albeit good-natured Hungary.

It had all started with a seemingly innocent question over Christmas tea.

"So, what are you planning to do for Italy on Christmas?"

The words hung in the air for several moments, as Germany puzzled over the sentiment. "Eh?" he finally asked, setting his (festive) teacup back on its (equally festive) saucer. Hungary was quite a fan of the holidays as well, and she had more sure to decorate her and Austria's house with a few artfully placed Christmas accents.

Austria sighed, crossing his legs at the ankle with a decidedly aristocratic air. "Surely you have something special planned for you and Italy on Christmas day. It is your first holiday together as a couple, as I'm sure you know."

Germany's brain processed this information. To be completely honest, the thought hadn't crossed his mind at all. He didn't know if it was because he was unromantic or just generally clueless when it came to things like these – but he hadn't realized he was supposed to have planned something special on Christmas Day. Usually he would spend his day by the fireplace, his dogs dozing at his feet, and read Kafka, Rilke, or Goethe – but he supposed that he couldn't do that this year.

Austria read his clueless expression perfectly. "You have nothing planned, you had no idea you were supposed to have something planned, and Christmas is five days from now," he observed, his brow crinkling slightly as he knit his brows together.

"You know me too well," Germany acquiesced, and he sighed. "And now I suppose I will have to do something. But this is not my forte, you know this."

"All too well," Austria agreed primly, leaning forward slightly. "But my wife…she's rather formidable when it comes to these matters. She'll have some idea."

"She put you up to this, didn't she?" Germany surmised, from the strained expression on Austria's face.

"Of course," came the disgruntled reply, as Austria looked quickly around the sitting room to make sure his wife was nowhere near earshot. "Between you and I, she meddles too much in your affairs as it is, but perhaps it is a good thing she does, because otherwise you would never get anywhere in your relationship with Italy."

And it was these words that set the wheels into motion. That night, Germany lay awake, frowning deeply as he considered Austria's words. Not even the warmth of Italy's body next to him could lull him to sleep – he was too disturbed at what had been said. Was it true? Was it true that Hungary was responsible for making his relationship with Italy progress? The thought perturbed him deeply, as he was generally against the idea of having others deep in his affairs, especially over something with concerned Italy.

So Germany had an idea. Christmas was just around a corner, and he was armed with a plan.

Strategy had always been a forte of Germany's, and like a general charging into battle, he had devised a plan so infallible, so fool-proof, that his endeavor (insurmountable as it may seem) could only end in success.

On Christmas, he would sweep Italy off his feet.

It was a madman's plan. It sounded crazy – foolish, even. It had never been done before – Italy, the nation of lovers, the one who had learned the art of love at the foot of the Roman Empire would be out-romanced by…Germany?

Needless to say, Germany couldn't help being slightly nervous.

His blue eyes bored into the paper in front of him, once again reviewing the "battle strategy". It was nothing too fancy, but he hoped it would do the trick. It was almost Christmas – Italy was already dewy-eyed over the romantic Christmas carols, the festive decorations, and the 10-foot-Christmas tree that Germany had lugged into their living room. So Germany figured that it was not his responsibility to put Italy in the mood.

It was his job not to mess it up.