For 13PairsOfWings 3 Enjoy!

A guide to understanding Feliciano Vargas.

Step 1

His Curl

Something I have learned from living with the hyper Italian is, never, under any circumstances, touch his curl. Never.

I'm sure that curl is taunting me. It bounced softly with each soft sleepy breath of its owner, a half-naked Italian man. (Whom had invaded my bed at a un-godly hour of the night.) I flicked my eyes back to my book.

Nein, don't touch it.

My eyes flickered back to the thin curl. I wonder what would happen if I- Nien! Bad thoughts! Leave the curl alone!

I returned to my book. I had only read a few more pages before my eyes traveled back to the dark brown curl. Damn that thing to hell. My fingers itched with the impulse to touch it, just to see what would happen. No harm… right?

My hand stretched out slowly, I gulped, Feli 'Veh'ed softly in his sleep, my fingers were almost there…

Feli mumbled incoherently and rolled towards me, trapping his pesky curl out of sight. (And reach) My heart was beating wildly. Never again.

Step 2

His antics.

Feliciano has many weird quirks. I must admit, a few I think are… quite… cute.

The beautiful city of Berlin was asleep, the only noises outside where the rumbling of cars as tourists got used to the time change, the soft musical played by the city of night. Every sensible person was in bed, snuggled under their blankets, some snuggled beside another for warmth.

But, I lay awake, my bed empty on one side, the soft muffled clang of metal and the soft bubbling of water was my lullaby as the hyper Italian man made pasta in my poor kitchen, my eye twitched as I heard him humming, which then escalated into a soft, beautiful Italian song. It was beautiful to say the least, the way his voice rose and fell with each note. I felt like the olden days, me, Opa and Bruder all in Opa's huge bed, and Opa would sing a Germany lullaby for me and Bruder.

Home.

That's what Feli's singing made me feel. As if I was at home. I didn't care if it was 3 in the morning, I didn't care about his quirks on August the 6th. Nothing mattered any more, just Feliciano's singing.

Step 3

His personality

Feliciano is a very…. Out-there person. He will greet you with a hug and a kiss no matter who you are, friend or foe. Also, he will surprise you anywhere, anytime.

I was working, no sound apart from my fingers against the keyboard and my pen scraping as I copped down notes from the last meeting. Why was I coping notes down again?

Feliciano.

I was coping them for him. He had been asleep the whole meeting. His brother had been texting someone, so he was no help. My brother wasn't there; he had run off with that boy he's been hanging around with lately.

I sighed for the unkempt time this evening, I could hear Feliciano down in the kitchen, the radio blaring some Italian song, he was singing and probably dancing while cooking.

I rubbed my forehead, missing the soft footsteps coming towards my door.

"Ve, Ludwig?" My head shot up. There in the door way, was Feliciano.

He looked coy, his head was half-way through the doorjamb.

'Yes Feliciano?' I asked gruffly, having not really spoken in quiet awhile.

He slipped in, carrying a plate, covered so I could not see what was underneath,

"Here. For you, since you have been working so hard for me." Feliciano held the plate out, I took it and placed it on a clear area of my desk.

"Danke Feliciano." I slipped the cover off to reveal a plate full of home-made bratwurst, blutwurst, dark pumpernickel, a dark, delicious smelling stew and some dark beer.

I was surprised, Feli never made anything aside from pasta. I was touched.

"Danke Feliciano. This… it looks nice." I blushed lightly, the man in question lit up instantly.

"Ve, really? Aw! Your welcome Luddy! I felt bad you were sitting up here, copping your notes for me so I made you dinner. I hope you like it!" Then, without warning, he came over and hugged me.

I blinked before slowly wrapping my arms around Feliciano's thin frame.

"Danke. Really." I mumbled before Feli grinned and kissed my cheek.

"Ve, I'm going to clean up now! Ciao!" With that said, the man waltzed out the door.

I groaned. Mein Gott. That man was confusing!

Step 4

Feliciano's family.

Gott. What more can I say? The Italian family are… rather… euphoric. Almost to the point it's irritating.

Christmas. A time of happiness, family and presents. This year, my Opa had invited Old man Rome and his grandchildren. I.e. Feliciano and Lovino. And Gilbert had invited Antonio and Frances. I had invited Kiku but he had declined saying he already had plans with his brothers and sisters.

The doorbell rang, Opa called for me to open it and let the people in. He was busy in the kitchen.

I opened the door and got attacked by a hyper Italian by the name of Feliciano.

"VE! LUDDY! MERRY CHRISTMAS!" I blushed and tried to pry the smaller man off me.

"Yes, um, Merry Christmas to you as well Feliciano." I lead them into the lounge where Lovino started to cuss out Antonio.

I helped my Opa in the kitchen for awhile with Rome and Feliciano. The, we all sat down at the large oak table laden with all kinds of food.

Dark German bread, light fluffy Italian pizza, thick hot wurst, steamy thin home-made pasta slathered in thick, rich sauce, plus some fresh French bread. It was amazing.

For after dinner, was a huge, chocolate cake made by me and Opa, plus a delicious looking tiramisu, courtesy of Rome and Feliciano.

After we had finished every last thing we were all in the lounge, some Spanish song playing, Antonio was singing along quietly, Opa and Rome where talking about the olden days and how much it had changed. Feliciano had fallen asleep beside me, his head rested against my shoulder as I read my newest book, given to me by my Opa. It was bliss

Step 5

His logic,

Feliciano has some theories he believes in with all his heart. Even I cannot tell him otherwise, it would break him. I just let him believe, it's much easier.

My eyes flickered open slowly, soft piano and violin music drifted around, barely audible. I got out of bed, fixed up my hair and followed the heartbreaking sounding music until I got to Feliciano's art room. The music oozed out from under the door, I checked the date. August the 6th I sighed, this was the day that confused me the most.

First, the Italian man would get up before me, then spend half the day shut up in his art room, crying and listening to sad music, then come and invade my kitchen, making food. The last part was normal. But he didn't make pasta, he made sweets. Cake, tiramisu, toffee, gelato, muffins, cupcakes everything. Then he would invite Hungary, Austria, Romano, France, his Opa and me to eat the sweets and talk about someone from his past.

I had asked Austria and Hungary about this 'Country' and Hungary told me all about how Italy fell in love with H.R.E and how broken he was when Holy Rome didn't come back. I had seen the paintings that Feliciano did. They were hauntingly beautiful.

I sat in my office, I could hear him in the kitchen. I frowned. He should have come in and hugged me… I sighed, getting up, leaving my work un-finished and walked downstairs.

"Feliciano?" I asked softly, his newest painting was drying on the table, it showed a black forest with him as a child, sitting underneath, facing toward the back of a boy in a black cape and a black hat. I could see the painted tears on their faces. It was amazing.

"Si, Ludwig?" Feliciano looked up, tears had dried on his cheeks. I sighed and held my arms out.

"Kommen"I said, his eyes welled up with more tears before he launched into my arms. He sobbed into my chest, we sunk to the floor.

Kneeling on the floor of my kitchen, Feliciano crying into my chest, the smell of vanilla and chocolate filling my brain, I just did what anyone would do.

I held onto Feliciano as if he was going to fade away any second. I pushed small kisses of comfort on the Italian's head. Murmuring words in English, German and a few in heavily accented Italian.

After a while, his slowly rose, "Ludwig," he breathed, his voice thick with tears," distract me…"

I hesitated, before nodding and leaning forward, pushing my lips against his.

Even though I have lived with this man for many lifetimes, I still cannot believe how much of a child he is.

Or how fast I fell in love with him.

Fin.

TRANSLATIONS:

GERMAN:

Danke: Thank you

Nien: No

Opa: Grandfather

Kommen: Come

ITALIAN:

Si: Yes

A.N

T^T I am feeling so sad right now… I hope you like it! :3 Remember if You would like me to write you a one-shot, I will! P.M me your O.T.P Favorite genre and anything you want me to add to the story and I will get onto it right away!

I'm currently working on:

A surprise thing for 'Room 203'

A Franada one-shot for captainxx (Awesome stories!)

Also, blutwurst is 'Blood sausage' :3 *For those who are confused.*

Bye!

Love you all!

Ri