(This is chapter one, the pairings may be increasingly sporadic, but don't worry GerIta fans, you'll get your (eventual) share of fluff and lemon.)

Speick chapter one

Start of something

Germany awoke on his bedroom floor with a blinding headache. It wouldn't have been the first time. In fact he often spent the night on the floor after playing drinking games late with his brother. He and Gilbert could drink each other under the table. Hell, they could drink each other under the carpet!

However on this unforgivingly bright morning, Germany felt strange. Instead of having a conversation with his toilet about what he had to drink last night, he felt hot. Achingly hot.

He went to put on his clothes but could only get as far as to pull on his boxers and climb into his combat trousers before the heat overwhelmed him. He decided to forego a shirt, the touch of the rough cloth was too much for him to handle. Every brush on his skin was like icy fire, electric, and so damn good.

When he went to look in the mirror, he noticed that his pectorals were more toned than before but as his slightly baggy slacks revealed, he was smaller in size than the last time he looked.

He glanced up at the clock, it was 8:15; he was very nearly late for the UN meeting. Quickly, he shrugged on his leather bomber jacket and zipped it up to hide his almost womanly figure. Big mistake.

The car drive to the convention was absolute hell. He nearly crashed the automobile twice, when stopping at a green light and carrying on at a red.

When he got to the meeting many people turned their heads to stare at the dishevelled German.

The air in the large room was humid and the leather of the coat made the heat rise even higher. The blonde groaned quietly as his hand reached up to brush the ungelled hair out of his pink hued face. The action did not go unnoticed.

"Are you ar light Germany?" asked Japan worriedly.

"Ja, I'm fine." He murmured.

The whisper attracted the boards' attention away from the loudmouth American at the head of the table.

Some of the countries started to mumble to each other behind their hands.

"Germany! Japan! If you don't mind dudes, I'm tryin' to talk here!" came an indignant shout.

Suddenly the heat increased tenfold. Germany bowed his head, hair covering his face. He started to tremble.

America felt guilty.

"Dude, I sorry but you gotta take your own orders. Don't you always say to-?" The bespectacled country was cut off by a pair of lips over his. The German was kissing him.

A wet appendage ran across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He shoved the platinum blonde away and wiped his mouth. The other countries gawped in shock.

"What the hell?" Germany gazed into his eyes, the normally blue pools now molten amethyst.

He took the moment of America's weakness to push him backwards into the chair and straddle his legs, his slender form rubbing in all the right ways.

Germany ground his hips down into the other man, moaning slightly. All coherent thought had been evaporated the moment he had heard America say his name.

To the Aryan it was as if he and the American were the only people in the room, in the whole world. However, the other nation felt as if there were the population of china in the room.

America could feel their eyes on them as he tried to pry the (surprisingly handsome) German from his lap.

"Dudes! A little help? France, there's no need for you to join in! Japan buddy, put down the camera! Guys, help me!"

England put down his cup of tea and reluctantly wandered over to where Germany was currently unburdening his friend of his shirt.

"As fascinating as this is, America is right, we should stop them." He motioned for Russia and Sweden to help him. They took hold of both of Germany's arms (in Russia's case, his waist) and literally dragged him off of America's half naked body.

They held the panting blonde Adonis while he struggled wildly and America reclothed himself.

Germany whined in a way that was almost dog like; high pitched with a threatening growl behind it. He felt as if he were burning up from the inside. The leather that still clung to his limbs felt like a second skin.

England inspected the new purple orbs and contemplated the previous night…

…...Flashback…..

"Agravarum, mouscovenium, dumbledora, the explorer, oggy oggy oggy, oi oi- oh bollocks!" England swore as the viscous orange/brown liquid bubbled over onto his hands and he stubbed his toe on the wooden workbench.

He stuck them under his armpits and hopped around his cellar/magic room cursing.

"Why the bloody hell didn't it work?" he thought aloud. The Brit opened his magic book* and scoured the pages looking for the recipe.

"Aha! Found it." He read through the dusty page until he got to the end. 'Speick' thought England 'is what I need. Let's see, it says here that; "If Speick is not added before the incantation is spoken, the potion will be rendered useless for the intended purpose."'

He decided not to read the small print of the book; he had to find out what the hell Speick was.

He shut the volume and scurried up his ladder for a book on magical plants.

He found it right at the back of his shelf, under one of France's dild… presents. The British man set down 'magic moss and wizardly willows down onto the gold lectern and flipped to S.

"Sandalwood, no, Selik, no, Snapdragon, no- ah, Speick." He leant over the rather large compendium and started to read. "Speick. A rare member of the onion family found only in Germany."

England snapped the leather bound hardback shut with quite a bit of effort and shoved his supplies and magical artefacts into the bottomless bag that he had purchased from a somewhat beautiful English nanny. What was her name again? Something Poppins.

He corked what was left of his earlier attempt and put it in the carpet bag too. You never could be too careful, what with Sealand and America around.

He took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"Diagon- I mean, Germany's house!" he stepped into the flames as they burned an acidic green.

Somewhere along the gut twisting journey he faintly heard a voice.

"That's the nimbus two thousand; it's the fastest racing broom in the world!" the tea drinking blonde disregarded the exited comment and focused on getting to Germany's house with all of his limbs intact.

"!

Oof"

Germany jumped up from the beige sofa as a soot covered Englishman fell out of his fireplace.

"Heilige Sheiße!" He placed a hand over his heart and positioned his beer down on the place mat on the coffee table.

"Guten tag England." He said wearily. It had been a long day and the last thing he needed was for his home to be invaded by walking eyebrows pretending to be Santa Claus.

England dusted himself off with a tissue that the German had conveniently on hand.

"Sorry about the intrusion old chap, but I've had a bit of bother with one of my spells. They tend to go more or less wrong some of the time."

As if to demonstrate, he plonked the failed potion on the table next to Germany's Budweiser.

"Kein scherz." The sarcasm was lost on the oblivious Brit as he continued to brush lumps of coal out of his facebrows.

"Oh I'm being serious my fritzy friend. Which reminds me; I don't suppose you've got any Speick on you at all?"

Germany sighed in relief. He wasn't going to be turned into a scone eating eyebrow monster after all.

"I'll see if I have some in my larder." And with that, the broad shouldered blonde strode out of the room in search of the uncommon corm.*

While England waited for his acquaintance to come back he admired the houses' décor. Everything was either cream or cornflower blue, which was appropriate, seeing as the cornflower was Germany's national floret.

Speaking of national things, a loud snarl interrupted his train of thought. England looked around for the source of the noise. He didn't have to search for very long.

Under the small table was a very big German shepherd. It was sleek and well groomed, just like Germany. But unlike Germany it seemed to have it in for him. England decided that getting torn apart wasn't on his 'things to do before I'm three thousand' list and that acquiring the all-important speick could wait another day.

He bravely chose to gentlemanly dog it out of there.

…End of flashback…

'I wonder if I upset him?' thought Britain.

But now as he peered into Germany's lilaceous eyes he couldn't help the nagging feeling that it wasn't something he had said that made his friend this way, but something he had done.

He would get to the bottom of this.

*Not to be confused with France's magic box. Definitely don't open that.

Kein scherz- No kidding

* Corm is another word for bulb.

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and that the pairing wasn't too bad for you. Germerica is NOT the pairing I'm going for.)