[fanfic] Red / [fanart] Req: Switzerland
Title: Red
Part: Mini-One-Shot
Characters: OCPhilippines, Switzerland
Pairings: SwitzerlandxPiri
Warnings: TEEN - Original Character Warning, Un-betaed Mind Dribble
Summary: There are times in the year where parts of Italy get sporadic showers. One minute it’s bright and sunny, the next it’s pouring. Piri really wished she had brought her umbrella.
Preview:
A moment later, Maria was crying. Sobs in mangled English and what he assumed was her native tongue were intertwined with curses that were directed, for some reason, to Romano . The red faced, drenched country looked positively miserable and he while he was quite happy to just let her be, a ridiculous, almost chivalrous part of him wouldn’t allow him to.
Stupid honor.
He had released a heavy breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can use my phone when we get to my flat,” he had told her. “I think I have Romano’s phone number.”
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REQUEST SUBJECT: Switzerland & Philippines
Requestor: Squishy trishpawachunyu
Status: Complete, though leaves much to be desired. LOL, I so totally cheated with the background. It's a vacation picture. XD Also, the Swiss Guard uniforms make me giggle.
REQUEST SUBJECT: Switzerland making chocolate (mini-cakes) >_>
Requestor: crossesandguns
Status: Complete, though leaves much, much MORE to be desired. (I'm sorry...)
Accompanying Fanfic:
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Red
.Mini-One-Shot.
By DamageCtrl
*All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own anything other than the plot. Even then, it's not that creative.
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It was warm. ‘Was’ being the keyword. She hadn’t seen it coming at all. If she were back home, perhaps it would’ve been different. She could understand sporadic showers in the tropics, especially when the showers were more like giant rain drops hurling from the sky.
Silently, she cursed Romano. Drop her off in Gandolfo for some sight-seeing while he went to Marina to get some wine, he had told her. I’ll pick you up later, he had said. Don’t worry, the clouds don’t look like rain, he had assured her.
She had barely watched his tiny car zoom off when a crack of thunder heralded the downpour. By the time she managed to seek shelter beneath the overhang of a store front, she had been caught and was thoroughly wet. Since they were just passing through on their way back to Lovino’s flat in Rome, she hadn’t brought much money on her. Lovino insisted on paying for everything.
With her last few Euro, she managed to buy a decent umbrella, but the rain splashing up from the cobble stone ground were already doing a fine job of making a soggy mess of her shoes and the dark tights she was wearing.
Clinging to her mini-shelter, she looked despondently up the hill, where an old stone gate stood as an entrance into the old town and the piazza before the Pope’s summer palace. She was going to spend a few hours wandering around the old town and taking pictures of the lake beyond the far walls, but she doubted she could even see the black ash shores with how thick the rain was coming down.
She bit her lower lip. She still had a few more days in Rome. She could probably convince Lovino to drive her back when the weather was better. If she tried to get any futile exploring done as she was, she’d surely become soaked to the bone, catch something, and spend the rest of her trip bedridden.
Shivering slightly, she clutched her umbrella against her and dug into her pocket for her phone. She fumbled around until she felt the small mobile device and fished it out. With clammy, almost pruned fingers, she tried to select Romano’s name. He couldn’t have gotten too far and if he complained, she’d just tell Spain and his precious Romano abandoned her and allowed her to get sick and possibly near death.
She found the Italian’s name and pressed it.
Her eyes widened. “No…,” she mumbled as she held out her phone and moved it side to side, her eyes on the tiny tell-tale signal bars. “No!” she cried out.
No signal. How could there be no single? Everyone had a phone these days! It wasn’t as if she was in the middle of no where! She was in Italy, for God’s sake! It was impossible!
Panicked, she began moving her arm around in a desperate search for a phone signal. This wasn’t happening.
“Signorina!” a voice said behind her. She looked over her shoulder, a forlorn expression on her face. The old man from the shop was pointing to the top of the hill. He made the motion of a phone against his ear. “No…,” he said, shaking his head. He pointed up the hill once more. “Andare li, signorina!”
Maria shook her head. All she understood was the ‘young lady’ part. Choked back a cry. “I…I don’t understand.”
“No phone,” the old man repeated. He pointed up the hill, past the stone gate. “Up! Phone!” he struggled in broken English.
The Filipina’s eyes widened. “Phone…signal!” she realized as she pointed up the hill. “Use the phone up there!” She grimaced. Obviously, no matter how loud she yelled, the old man wouldn’t understand English. She wracked her head. “Yo…yo uso el tele…telefono…aq- no…alli?” she attempted in her unsteady Spanish as she made hand motions to her phone and the hill. Italian and Spanish were similar enough, weren’t they? He’d understand something, wouldn’t he?
“Si! Si!” the old man nodded earnest.
She felt a flood of relief as she nodded. “Grazie, signore!” she thanked him as she clutched her phone against her chest and began to trudge up the hill.
Through the thin soles of the Chucks she had been given for her birthday from Alfred - a bright red and white set - she could feel the cobbled stone of the road beneath her as she carefully balanced herself to avoid slipping and falling down the unfairly steep embankment.
As she trudged upwards relentlessly, determined to call her ride and scream at him until he came to pick her up. Actually, Romano was a sucker for tears. She changed her plan. She would sob until he came to pick her up. That was probably more likely to work.
Maria rounded the corner and was close to the gate. She pulled out her phone. One bar! Her eyes lit up and she quickened her speed. She made it another two paces before she heard the sound of a car honking. Maria snapped her head up from her phone just as she saw the headlights of an on-coming car slowly approaching.
She took a sharp breath and scrambled to the side. The car drove past her and Maria, still reeling with surprise, took a wrong step. She felt her foot land awkwardly beneath her and her body begin to fall. She saw her umbrella tumble down the hill and her phone fly out of her hand. The hard stone ground was coming towards her.
“Damn it, Romano!” her mind cursed. She was going to crack her skull open and bleed in front of the Pope’s summer palace. This was not what she wanted to write on that postcard to Taiwan.
“Be careful!” a voice roared above her. She felt a firm hand grab her arm and pull her upwards before she could slam, face first, into the ground.
She found herself crushed against something; bright orange and blue filled her vision before she looked up and recognized the scowling, serious face of the world’s most infamously neutral nation. Her eyes widened.
“Switzerland?”
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Every few years, when the arrangements were renewed, he had crossed international borders into his southern neighbor, Italy. It wasn’t for any sort of personal reason, it was more like…tradition. And it wasn’t specifically Italy he was visiting.
He was there to see Il Vaticano, the Vatican. They’d have some coffee, talk a little about why they continued to keep the guards dressed as they were, and then he would take off to check on his mercenaries who were currently stationed around the Vatican and the Pope’s summer palace in Castel Gandolfo.
As pointless as it would seem for the Vatican to still hire Swiss mercenaries, it was seen as a very honorable position to have and a firmly established tradition. Also, the men who volunteered and served as the famous Swiss Guards had military training and were professionals. Vash would not have it any other way.
To see his men dressed in those near clownish blue and orange uniforms, donning their black berets as they stood stiffly at their posts filled him with a sort of pride. It wasn’t obvious now, but they were an elite military unit; a group who offered their lives to protect one of the most revered men in Christendom.
Also, the uniform didn’t look too bad when it was covered by a black rain cloak. Unfortunately, he had arrived the other day when it was fair weather outside and he hadn’t deemed it necessary to bring his cloak from his guest room at the Vatican.
That was a mistake.
Grumbling, Vash ground his teeth together as he finished his personal inspection rounds of the summer palace. As soon as he had readied his things and prepared to leave for his small flat in town, it had begun to pour.
Several off-duty guards offered him their own cloaks, but it was just rain. He’d been through much worse. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hang up his own orange and blue uniform to dry when he arrived at his temporary home.
He stepped out of the gate and caught sight of a bright pink umbrella making its way up the hill. He shook his head. Honestly, who would go out on a day like it was? Before he could go any further, he saw a car coming by and stepped aside. It honked and Vash narrowed his eyes.
A young woman jumped back and his lips tugged into a tight line. She looked familiar.
She jumped back…and then slipped.
His reflexes were quick and within the blink of an eye he was beside her and grabbing her arm. A slight shock coursed through him as he pulled her up and she crashed against his chest. She was a nation.
He barely had time to recover, when he heard her surprised voice. “Switzerland?”
He barely gave a grunt in reply when he was enveloped in one extremely relieved bone crushing hug. The Philippines immediately began rambling about how she was trying to use her phone, but there was no signal and how utterly unbelievable it was that there wasn’t any there. She was mid-way through her hysterical blabbering when Vash had finally told her to be quiet and that her phone wouldn’t be of much use anyway.
He pointed down the hill and Maria screamed in horror as she realized her phone was now in a puddle at the bottle of the hill, along with her now-warped umbrella. To add insult to injury, the next car that passed them ran over it. Even he had cringed and looked over at the stunned island nation.
The Philippines was staring blankly, seemingly unable to believe what had happened. She stood still beside him, her entire body tense. It made him tense. Vash took a step back and heard the sniff. His eyes widened. He knew what that meant!
A moment later, Maria was crying. Sobs in mangled English and what he assumed was her native tongue were intertwined with curses that were directed, for some reason, to Romano . The red faced, drenched country looked positively miserable and he while he was quite happy to just let her be, a ridiculous, almost chivalrous part of him wouldn’t allow him to.
Stupid honor.
He had released a heavy breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can use my phone when we get to my flat,” he had told her. “I think I have Romano’s phone number.”
She had rubbed at her eyes and looked at him unsurely. They were nowhere near close friends as nations. They’d hardly had any contact, actually, but right now, he was all she had. Somberly, and still with tears in her eyes, she thanked him.
Vash had started out walking ahead of her, but found himself slowing to match her pace. She had been quiet and he wasn’t sure why. He always had the impression that all of Spain’s former colonies were boisterous, painfully lively countries. Then again, he supposed that being caught in a downpour and watching your phone get crushed underneath the tires of a sedan could dampen anyone’s day.
He had looked down beside him. She wasn’t even wearing a jacket and was instant wrapping her arms around the shirt clinging to her body. Shaking his head, he had hesitated. He had lifted one hand and grasped the black beret still on his head.
“Here,” he had said gruffly as he removed his hat and placed it on her head. It wasn’t much, but it would at least keep the rain from her eyes.
A look of surprise had filled her soft face. Wide brown eyes had looked up at him. Then, he was graced with a smile.
“Thank you, Switzerland!”
His pale, ruddy cheeks had reddened. His had eyes darted away, embarrassed as he let out a muffled cough.
“My name is Vash….”
An hour and a half later, they were in his kitchen. Maria was sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter, waiting eagerly for their snacks to cool. She hadn’t been sure what to expect inside his temporary home in Italy, but was impressed to find a highly modern home within the facade of an old Renaissance building. She supposed over the years, the houses in the area had been retrofitted to keep with the times.
It was a small, one-bedroom flat and clearly decorated to his tastes. Paintings of the Alps and various mountains, lakes, and valleys lined the walls, along with pictures of him and Lichtenstein.
He had been generous in having her use his room to shower and change into spare clothes. Unfortunately, whatever Lichtenstein had left to wear at the flat was too small and Switzerland himself was slightly bigger than her.
She made due with her drying tights and a thick, heavy zip-up red jacket with a large white cross in front of it that reached almost to her knees. It kind of reminded her of all the Canada sweatshirts she had seen on the border stores between America and Canada.
When she finally emerged, she found Vash’s Swiss Guard uniform tumbling in a small drier and her shoes in front of a heater. She had looked down at her borrowed black socks. At least her feet were dry.
“Do you like chocolate?” a voice had asked her from the kitchen. She turned her head and saw a blond man hunched over a counter.
“Yes,” Maria nodded. She moved closer and peered over the counter. Vash was carefully putting a dark brown concoction into a pan.
“The first batch will be done soon,” he informed her, still concentrating on his food. Maria quietly scooted up on a stool to watch him.
The neutral nation looked quite at home working on something chocolate. She followed his smooth, pale hands up to his lean arms. She never noticed that they were rather toned. She supposed it came with carrying a gun the whole day. Maria cracked a smile as she noticed that the t-shirt he was wearing beneath a frilly white apron was exactly like the jacket she was wearing; red with a white cross.
“We match,” she chuckled. His eyes flickered up, looking briefly confused before he noticed her top. He nodded slightly.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “That’s all I have.”
“No, it’s fine. I can’t thank you enough,” she told him as she watched him finish up the tray of food. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t shown up. Looks like you’re my hero!”
He grunted once more, blushing slightly as he put down something and turned around. “The…umm…chocolate is ready.”
“Oh!” Maria’s face perked up as she watched him shove some oven mitts on and opened the oven. A thick, rich scent filled the room and for a moment her eyes glossed over. She could feel drool pooling in her mouth at the thought of delicious desserts.
“It’s still hot,” Vash said as he placed a tray on a pot holder. “You’ll have to wait a while.”
Maria nodded dumbly as she licked her lips. It smelled delicious…what more what it tasted like? “How much longer?”
“Not too long,” he assured her. He lifted the second tray and placed it in the oven.
“I heard all about your chocolates, but I didn’t think you baked, too!” Maria piped. “How lucky!”
He bit back the shrill comment asking how she could possibly be lucky after what happened to her. He turned around and found Maria eyeing the tray of chocolate pastries hungrily. He narrowed his eyes.
“Have you not eaten?” he asked dully.
“Not since we stopped over to get some Mac’s while we were driving back,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the food. “But, don’t worry! Romano said we’ll eat when we get back to his place in Rome.”
For a moment, Vash frowned. What exactly was the Philippines doing in Italy, anyway? He didn’t think the two were close. He couldn’t remember ever seeing them even talking with one another at summits. Before he could stop himself, he had opened his mouth.
“Are you visiting him?” He mentally kicked himself. Of course she was. That was obvious.
“I’m actually here to see the Vatican,” Maria replied. “I like to visit Lovi and Feli when I can, though. They’ve been good to my people.” She paused as she looked at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why were you wearing a Swiss Guard uniform?”
“I do rounds every few years and am also a guest of the Holy See,” the blond answered. “I had just finished Castel Gandolfo when I saw you.”
Maria smiled warmly. “Thank you very much,” she said once more. “Really, Vash. I’d be standing in the rain, shivering and waiting for Romano to return if it weren’t for you.”
He could feel his cheeks warming up again. He wasn’t the most sociable person and didn’t have much contact outside his European neighbors and sister. He rarely had contact with nations on the other side of the world and he never expected to be in the same room as one.
Vash found himself shifting awkwardly and avoiding her eyes. “I just recognized a fellow nation and thought I would help.”
“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Maria chuckled as she noticed his discomfort. He wasn’t so much shy as possibly stand-offish…or simply socially awkward. “I used your phone to call Romano. He knows where you’re staying and is on his way.”
Switzerland nodded. “I don’t mean to kick you out,” he told her firmly.
“It’s fine. I’m an expected visitor and troubling you,” Maria said. Her eyes widened. “Oh…and do you mind if I borrow your clothes? I’ll return them!”
His eyes seemed to shoot to her body, where her upper half was covered in one of his jackets. His face slowly turned red. She had removed her own clothes…and was wearing…what was she wearing underneath!? For a moment, his gaze seemed to focus directly on her chest and he had to tear himself away.
Across from him, Maria raised an eyebrow. She followed his eyes and bit her lip as she tried to casually cover herself.
His mind screamed at him to focus on something else as a silence fell between them. He caught the cooling tray of chocolate pastries from the corner of his eye and jumped at it.
“It looks like they’re ready,” he pointed out, wincing has his voice broke. He quickly shuffled over and tugged off his oven mittens before hovering one hand over the tray to make sure it was cool. Maria didn’t say a word as he dug through a drawer for some utensils to fish one out.
He placed a small, square piece on a plate and pushed it towards her.
Maria licked her lips in anticipation as she took the fork she was offered and cut into the item. The crust broke and oozing melted chocolate came out. She could feel herself drooling. Almost trembling with anticipation, she lifted a small piece to her mouth and placed it on her tongue.
Vash opened his mouth to take a bite when a low, pleasured moan filled the kitchen. His face turned red at the sound as his eyes darted to the female nation leaning on the other side of the counter. Maria’s eyes were closed as she allowed the delicious taste and texture of chocolate to melt across her sensitive taste buds.
A deliriously happy looked graced her face as her eyes slowly opened, looking glazed. “It’s delicious…,” she moaned out. “It’s still warm…and it’s melting…,” she almost sang out in praise. Vash found himself watching as she slowly relished every single bite. “Can I have more?”
He nodded vaguely and allowed her to reach over to his side of the counter and scoop two more pieces on her plate. He slowly chewed on his piece as he watched her devour one, little by little, making little moans each time.
It wasn’t long before he realized that they were out and Maria exclaimed she hadn’t realized she had eaten all of them and profusely apologized. Vash shook his head and tried to assure her it was fine when a heavy knock sounded from his door.
Looking for an escape, Vash practically zoomed out of the kitchen, completely disregarding his apron as he frantically unlocked the door. He swung it open and found the expected guest.
Romano had his usual irritated scowl on his face and opened his mouth to demand where Maria was when he saw what the usually gun-toting king of neutrality was wearing.
“Are you wearing an apron?” he snorted indignantly.
“Lovino!” Maria yelled from inside the house. She seemed to pop up behind Vash and wave at him eagerly. “You missed the chocolate!”
The brunette furrowed his brows and looked her, confused. “What?” He made a motion to step in, only to be blocked by Switzerland. “Do you mind moving, Svizzera?” he hissed.
Vash merely narrowed his eyes and stepped aside. Romano walked in and glanced around the surroundings before focusing his attention on the red-clad female coming to greet him. “Did you have trouble finding the place?” she asked as she tip-toed upwards and placed chaste greeting-kisses on each of his cheeks.
Almost as if it were completely natural, Romano mirrored her kisses. “No, I know where his flat is,” he replied curtly. He sent an irritated look back at the blond.
“Let me get my clothes and shoes,” she said as she turned around. She darted into the hall and Romano frowned. He hadn’t dropped her off wearing bright red. As she came out from the hall, holding a pair of damp shoes in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, Romano commented.
“What happened to your clothes?” he asked with distaste. Maria looked up from where she was bent, shoving her feet into the red Chucks.
She frowned. “I got caught in the rain, I told you,” she reminded him sternly. “Didn’t you even notice it was raining?”
“And you just stood outside?” he snorted, as if she had done something stupid. Maria’s face reddened.
“I-”
“She nearly got into an accident trying to call you to pick her up,” Switzerland said in a low voice behind him.
For a moment, Lovino’s eyes widened before turning and narrowing. He looked over his shoulder and shot the blond an annoyed look. “No one asked you, Svizzera.”
“Here!” Romano let out a choked cough as Maria slammed a wet, plastic bag of cloths against his chest. “My clothes are wet, so Vash is letting me borrow his clothes. Ugh…,” she wrinkled her nose as she looked down at her shoes. “They’re still wet.”
“You can change when we get home,” Romano told her firmly as he held her bag. “Come,” he said, extending a free hand in her direction. “Let’s go.”
“Okay, okay,” Maria grumbled. She walked past him and raised her arms. “Vash, thank you very much for your hospitality!”
To Switzerland’s surprise, she stopped in front of him and wrapped him in a warm hug. At once, every muscle in his body tensed as he rigidly accepted the hug.
It was a foreign feeling. He wasn’t even sure what to do with his hands. Was he supposed to hug her back? For how long? What if he accidentally groped her? How could one ‘accidentally’ grope someone else?
“I’ll have your clothes cleaned and then give them back to you,” Maria said as she moved away from him.
“Take…take your time,” he answered gruffly. Maria smiled and leaned upwards once more.
“Thank you again!” she said as she kissed his left cheek. “And thank you for the chocolate!” She kissed him on his right cheek.
Romano rolled his eyes. Clearly, Switzerland needed to get out more if he was frozen after a few simple kisses on the cheek.
“Come, Maria,” the Italian said firmly as he swept past and grasped her hand. “We have to go home.”
Maria gave Vash one last energetic smile and a wave before vanishing out the door.
Vaguely, the blond nation saw himself closing the wooden barrier and locking it. Silently, he stumbled back to the kitchen and caught his reflection on the glass.
He was as red as his shirt.
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Summit Day, A Few Weeks Later
“Brother, Austria invited us over for coffee and cake again,” Lichtenstein told him. “May we join him?”
He grumbled out an uncertain answer as they continued to walk just outside the meeting room, in the lobby. Numerous nations had gathered in little groups, greeting each other as the blond duo made a beeline for the exit.
He didn’t feel like being stopped by Austria or Hungary or someone else. Especially not by Southern Italy. He was almost certain that lately, his neighbor had been more irritated than normal. The rest of his stay in Rome, he hadn’t felt the hospitality he had in past years and he could’ve sworn that Romano was glaring at him.
Switzerland could only assume it was because he had been abnormally nice to the Philippines and the Italian didn’t like that. He didn’t even really understand why. Was Romano jealous? Of what? It’s not like he suddenly, magically sprouted romantic feelings for a nation he just met.
She was friendly, cute, and energetic, certainly, but he wasn’t after her or anything. They weren’t even really friends.
“Vash!” Reality back handed him across the face as he froze in midstep. His sister looked around him and tilted her head to the side.
“Brother, someone is calling your name,” she pointed out.
“Vash!” He heard his name called once more and this time, turned towards the sound. He saw a young woman with her black hair pinned back in a tight bun as she wove through the crowds, clutching a paper bag. “I’m glad I caught you!”
“Oh…Philippines,” he mumbled as a greeting.
Several paces away, Romano was glaring daggers at the back of Switzerland’s head as he watched him uncontrollably brush as the Philippines reached him. She was holding up a back and seemingly thanking him. Then she presented him with some sweets from her country.
His eyes widened. “She didn’t bring me any…,” he mumbled.
“What, Romano?” Spain asked from beside him.
Before Romano could reply, he saw Maria hand the remaining pack of sweets to Lichtenstein before thanking Switzerland once more - with a horrifying kiss on both cheeks - and run off to a group of South East Asian nations going to lunch. Switzerland was left standing like a statue, one white-fisted hand clutching his bag while his sister looked up at him, confused.
Okay…he was lying. Maybe they were friends.
Spain followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “I wonder what’s wrong with him,” the Spaniard mused. He chuckled. “He’s as red as tomato!”
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A.N. - The requests for Switzerland have been completed! Although badly...I’m sorry , guys. This was really hard. I tried. T_T This would require a longer sort of fic to build up a romance, but I hope you’re okay with a sort of unlikely friendship. It’s difficult for me to write PrussiaPiri, too, as they always strike me as a bro-mance. I'm picking on poor Romano again. (Although, to be fair, in his one-shot, he got the girl and happy-fun-bedroom times.)
I also apologize for the crappy pictures. I think I have the line art okay, and the base coloring, but anything after that remains a mystery to me. =_=
Next up, I'm working on the England scribbles. Prepare to NOT BE IMPRESSED. =_="
Part: Mini-One-Shot
Characters: OCPhilippines, Switzerland
Pairings: SwitzerlandxPiri
Warnings: TEEN - Original Character Warning, Un-betaed Mind Dribble
Summary: There are times in the year where parts of Italy get sporadic showers. One minute it’s bright and sunny, the next it’s pouring. Piri really wished she had brought her umbrella.
Preview:
A moment later, Maria was crying. Sobs in mangled English and what he assumed was her native tongue were intertwined with curses that were directed, for some reason, to Romano . The red faced, drenched country looked positively miserable and he while he was quite happy to just let her be, a ridiculous, almost chivalrous part of him wouldn’t allow him to.
Stupid honor.
He had released a heavy breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can use my phone when we get to my flat,” he had told her. “I think I have Romano’s phone number.”
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REQUEST SUBJECT: Switzerland & Philippines
Requestor: Squishy trishpawachunyu
Status: Complete, though leaves much to be desired. LOL, I so totally cheated with the background. It's a vacation picture. XD Also, the Swiss Guard uniforms make me giggle.
REQUEST SUBJECT: Switzerland making chocolate (mini-cakes) >_>
Requestor: crossesandguns
Status: Complete, though leaves much, much MORE to be desired. (I'm sorry...)
Accompanying Fanfic:
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Red
.Mini-One-Shot.
By DamageCtrl
*All Standard Disclaimers Apply: I do not own anything other than the plot. Even then, it's not that creative.
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It was warm. ‘Was’ being the keyword. She hadn’t seen it coming at all. If she were back home, perhaps it would’ve been different. She could understand sporadic showers in the tropics, especially when the showers were more like giant rain drops hurling from the sky.
Silently, she cursed Romano. Drop her off in Gandolfo for some sight-seeing while he went to Marina to get some wine, he had told her. I’ll pick you up later, he had said. Don’t worry, the clouds don’t look like rain, he had assured her.
She had barely watched his tiny car zoom off when a crack of thunder heralded the downpour. By the time she managed to seek shelter beneath the overhang of a store front, she had been caught and was thoroughly wet. Since they were just passing through on their way back to Lovino’s flat in Rome, she hadn’t brought much money on her. Lovino insisted on paying for everything.
With her last few Euro, she managed to buy a decent umbrella, but the rain splashing up from the cobble stone ground were already doing a fine job of making a soggy mess of her shoes and the dark tights she was wearing.
Clinging to her mini-shelter, she looked despondently up the hill, where an old stone gate stood as an entrance into the old town and the piazza before the Pope’s summer palace. She was going to spend a few hours wandering around the old town and taking pictures of the lake beyond the far walls, but she doubted she could even see the black ash shores with how thick the rain was coming down.
She bit her lower lip. She still had a few more days in Rome. She could probably convince Lovino to drive her back when the weather was better. If she tried to get any futile exploring done as she was, she’d surely become soaked to the bone, catch something, and spend the rest of her trip bedridden.
Shivering slightly, she clutched her umbrella against her and dug into her pocket for her phone. She fumbled around until she felt the small mobile device and fished it out. With clammy, almost pruned fingers, she tried to select Romano’s name. He couldn’t have gotten too far and if he complained, she’d just tell Spain and his precious Romano abandoned her and allowed her to get sick and possibly near death.
She found the Italian’s name and pressed it.
Her eyes widened. “No…,” she mumbled as she held out her phone and moved it side to side, her eyes on the tiny tell-tale signal bars. “No!” she cried out.
No signal. How could there be no single? Everyone had a phone these days! It wasn’t as if she was in the middle of no where! She was in Italy, for God’s sake! It was impossible!
Panicked, she began moving her arm around in a desperate search for a phone signal. This wasn’t happening.
“Signorina!” a voice said behind her. She looked over her shoulder, a forlorn expression on her face. The old man from the shop was pointing to the top of the hill. He made the motion of a phone against his ear. “No…,” he said, shaking his head. He pointed up the hill once more. “Andare li, signorina!”
Maria shook her head. All she understood was the ‘young lady’ part. Choked back a cry. “I…I don’t understand.”
“No phone,” the old man repeated. He pointed up the hill, past the stone gate. “Up! Phone!” he struggled in broken English.
The Filipina’s eyes widened. “Phone…signal!” she realized as she pointed up the hill. “Use the phone up there!” She grimaced. Obviously, no matter how loud she yelled, the old man wouldn’t understand English. She wracked her head. “Yo…yo uso el tele…telefono…aq- no…alli?” she attempted in her unsteady Spanish as she made hand motions to her phone and the hill. Italian and Spanish were similar enough, weren’t they? He’d understand something, wouldn’t he?
“Si! Si!” the old man nodded earnest.
She felt a flood of relief as she nodded. “Grazie, signore!” she thanked him as she clutched her phone against her chest and began to trudge up the hill.
Through the thin soles of the Chucks she had been given for her birthday from Alfred - a bright red and white set - she could feel the cobbled stone of the road beneath her as she carefully balanced herself to avoid slipping and falling down the unfairly steep embankment.
As she trudged upwards relentlessly, determined to call her ride and scream at him until he came to pick her up. Actually, Romano was a sucker for tears. She changed her plan. She would sob until he came to pick her up. That was probably more likely to work.
Maria rounded the corner and was close to the gate. She pulled out her phone. One bar! Her eyes lit up and she quickened her speed. She made it another two paces before she heard the sound of a car honking. Maria snapped her head up from her phone just as she saw the headlights of an on-coming car slowly approaching.
She took a sharp breath and scrambled to the side. The car drove past her and Maria, still reeling with surprise, took a wrong step. She felt her foot land awkwardly beneath her and her body begin to fall. She saw her umbrella tumble down the hill and her phone fly out of her hand. The hard stone ground was coming towards her.
“Damn it, Romano!” her mind cursed. She was going to crack her skull open and bleed in front of the Pope’s summer palace. This was not what she wanted to write on that postcard to Taiwan.
“Be careful!” a voice roared above her. She felt a firm hand grab her arm and pull her upwards before she could slam, face first, into the ground.
She found herself crushed against something; bright orange and blue filled her vision before she looked up and recognized the scowling, serious face of the world’s most infamously neutral nation. Her eyes widened.
“Switzerland?”
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Every few years, when the arrangements were renewed, he had crossed international borders into his southern neighbor, Italy. It wasn’t for any sort of personal reason, it was more like…tradition. And it wasn’t specifically Italy he was visiting.
He was there to see Il Vaticano, the Vatican. They’d have some coffee, talk a little about why they continued to keep the guards dressed as they were, and then he would take off to check on his mercenaries who were currently stationed around the Vatican and the Pope’s summer palace in Castel Gandolfo.
As pointless as it would seem for the Vatican to still hire Swiss mercenaries, it was seen as a very honorable position to have and a firmly established tradition. Also, the men who volunteered and served as the famous Swiss Guards had military training and were professionals. Vash would not have it any other way.
To see his men dressed in those near clownish blue and orange uniforms, donning their black berets as they stood stiffly at their posts filled him with a sort of pride. It wasn’t obvious now, but they were an elite military unit; a group who offered their lives to protect one of the most revered men in Christendom.
Also, the uniform didn’t look too bad when it was covered by a black rain cloak. Unfortunately, he had arrived the other day when it was fair weather outside and he hadn’t deemed it necessary to bring his cloak from his guest room at the Vatican.
That was a mistake.
Grumbling, Vash ground his teeth together as he finished his personal inspection rounds of the summer palace. As soon as he had readied his things and prepared to leave for his small flat in town, it had begun to pour.
Several off-duty guards offered him their own cloaks, but it was just rain. He’d been through much worse. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hang up his own orange and blue uniform to dry when he arrived at his temporary home.
He stepped out of the gate and caught sight of a bright pink umbrella making its way up the hill. He shook his head. Honestly, who would go out on a day like it was? Before he could go any further, he saw a car coming by and stepped aside. It honked and Vash narrowed his eyes.
A young woman jumped back and his lips tugged into a tight line. She looked familiar.
She jumped back…and then slipped.
His reflexes were quick and within the blink of an eye he was beside her and grabbing her arm. A slight shock coursed through him as he pulled her up and she crashed against his chest. She was a nation.
He barely had time to recover, when he heard her surprised voice. “Switzerland?”
He barely gave a grunt in reply when he was enveloped in one extremely relieved bone crushing hug. The Philippines immediately began rambling about how she was trying to use her phone, but there was no signal and how utterly unbelievable it was that there wasn’t any there. She was mid-way through her hysterical blabbering when Vash had finally told her to be quiet and that her phone wouldn’t be of much use anyway.
He pointed down the hill and Maria screamed in horror as she realized her phone was now in a puddle at the bottle of the hill, along with her now-warped umbrella. To add insult to injury, the next car that passed them ran over it. Even he had cringed and looked over at the stunned island nation.
The Philippines was staring blankly, seemingly unable to believe what had happened. She stood still beside him, her entire body tense. It made him tense. Vash took a step back and heard the sniff. His eyes widened. He knew what that meant!
A moment later, Maria was crying. Sobs in mangled English and what he assumed was her native tongue were intertwined with curses that were directed, for some reason, to Romano . The red faced, drenched country looked positively miserable and he while he was quite happy to just let her be, a ridiculous, almost chivalrous part of him wouldn’t allow him to.
Stupid honor.
He had released a heavy breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You can use my phone when we get to my flat,” he had told her. “I think I have Romano’s phone number.”
She had rubbed at her eyes and looked at him unsurely. They were nowhere near close friends as nations. They’d hardly had any contact, actually, but right now, he was all she had. Somberly, and still with tears in her eyes, she thanked him.
Vash had started out walking ahead of her, but found himself slowing to match her pace. She had been quiet and he wasn’t sure why. He always had the impression that all of Spain’s former colonies were boisterous, painfully lively countries. Then again, he supposed that being caught in a downpour and watching your phone get crushed underneath the tires of a sedan could dampen anyone’s day.
He had looked down beside him. She wasn’t even wearing a jacket and was instant wrapping her arms around the shirt clinging to her body. Shaking his head, he had hesitated. He had lifted one hand and grasped the black beret still on his head.
“Here,” he had said gruffly as he removed his hat and placed it on her head. It wasn’t much, but it would at least keep the rain from her eyes.
A look of surprise had filled her soft face. Wide brown eyes had looked up at him. Then, he was graced with a smile.
“Thank you, Switzerland!”
His pale, ruddy cheeks had reddened. His had eyes darted away, embarrassed as he let out a muffled cough.
“My name is Vash….”
An hour and a half later, they were in his kitchen. Maria was sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter, waiting eagerly for their snacks to cool. She hadn’t been sure what to expect inside his temporary home in Italy, but was impressed to find a highly modern home within the facade of an old Renaissance building. She supposed over the years, the houses in the area had been retrofitted to keep with the times.
It was a small, one-bedroom flat and clearly decorated to his tastes. Paintings of the Alps and various mountains, lakes, and valleys lined the walls, along with pictures of him and Lichtenstein.
He had been generous in having her use his room to shower and change into spare clothes. Unfortunately, whatever Lichtenstein had left to wear at the flat was too small and Switzerland himself was slightly bigger than her.
She made due with her drying tights and a thick, heavy zip-up red jacket with a large white cross in front of it that reached almost to her knees. It kind of reminded her of all the Canada sweatshirts she had seen on the border stores between America and Canada.
When she finally emerged, she found Vash’s Swiss Guard uniform tumbling in a small drier and her shoes in front of a heater. She had looked down at her borrowed black socks. At least her feet were dry.
“Do you like chocolate?” a voice had asked her from the kitchen. She turned her head and saw a blond man hunched over a counter.
“Yes,” Maria nodded. She moved closer and peered over the counter. Vash was carefully putting a dark brown concoction into a pan.
“The first batch will be done soon,” he informed her, still concentrating on his food. Maria quietly scooted up on a stool to watch him.
The neutral nation looked quite at home working on something chocolate. She followed his smooth, pale hands up to his lean arms. She never noticed that they were rather toned. She supposed it came with carrying a gun the whole day. Maria cracked a smile as she noticed that the t-shirt he was wearing beneath a frilly white apron was exactly like the jacket she was wearing; red with a white cross.
“We match,” she chuckled. His eyes flickered up, looking briefly confused before he noticed her top. He nodded slightly.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “That’s all I have.”
“No, it’s fine. I can’t thank you enough,” she told him as she watched him finish up the tray of food. “I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t shown up. Looks like you’re my hero!”
He grunted once more, blushing slightly as he put down something and turned around. “The…umm…chocolate is ready.”
“Oh!” Maria’s face perked up as she watched him shove some oven mitts on and opened the oven. A thick, rich scent filled the room and for a moment her eyes glossed over. She could feel drool pooling in her mouth at the thought of delicious desserts.
“It’s still hot,” Vash said as he placed a tray on a pot holder. “You’ll have to wait a while.”
Maria nodded dumbly as she licked her lips. It smelled delicious…what more what it tasted like? “How much longer?”
“Not too long,” he assured her. He lifted the second tray and placed it in the oven.
“I heard all about your chocolates, but I didn’t think you baked, too!” Maria piped. “How lucky!”
He bit back the shrill comment asking how she could possibly be lucky after what happened to her. He turned around and found Maria eyeing the tray of chocolate pastries hungrily. He narrowed his eyes.
“Have you not eaten?” he asked dully.
“Not since we stopped over to get some Mac’s while we were driving back,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the food. “But, don’t worry! Romano said we’ll eat when we get back to his place in Rome.”
For a moment, Vash frowned. What exactly was the Philippines doing in Italy, anyway? He didn’t think the two were close. He couldn’t remember ever seeing them even talking with one another at summits. Before he could stop himself, he had opened his mouth.
“Are you visiting him?” He mentally kicked himself. Of course she was. That was obvious.
“I’m actually here to see the Vatican,” Maria replied. “I like to visit Lovi and Feli when I can, though. They’ve been good to my people.” She paused as she looked at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why were you wearing a Swiss Guard uniform?”
“I do rounds every few years and am also a guest of the Holy See,” the blond answered. “I had just finished Castel Gandolfo when I saw you.”
Maria smiled warmly. “Thank you very much,” she said once more. “Really, Vash. I’d be standing in the rain, shivering and waiting for Romano to return if it weren’t for you.”
He could feel his cheeks warming up again. He wasn’t the most sociable person and didn’t have much contact outside his European neighbors and sister. He rarely had contact with nations on the other side of the world and he never expected to be in the same room as one.
Vash found himself shifting awkwardly and avoiding her eyes. “I just recognized a fellow nation and thought I would help.”
“I’ll be out of your hair soon,” Maria chuckled as she noticed his discomfort. He wasn’t so much shy as possibly stand-offish…or simply socially awkward. “I used your phone to call Romano. He knows where you’re staying and is on his way.”
Switzerland nodded. “I don’t mean to kick you out,” he told her firmly.
“It’s fine. I’m an expected visitor and troubling you,” Maria said. Her eyes widened. “Oh…and do you mind if I borrow your clothes? I’ll return them!”
His eyes seemed to shoot to her body, where her upper half was covered in one of his jackets. His face slowly turned red. She had removed her own clothes…and was wearing…what was she wearing underneath!? For a moment, his gaze seemed to focus directly on her chest and he had to tear himself away.
Across from him, Maria raised an eyebrow. She followed his eyes and bit her lip as she tried to casually cover herself.
His mind screamed at him to focus on something else as a silence fell between them. He caught the cooling tray of chocolate pastries from the corner of his eye and jumped at it.
“It looks like they’re ready,” he pointed out, wincing has his voice broke. He quickly shuffled over and tugged off his oven mittens before hovering one hand over the tray to make sure it was cool. Maria didn’t say a word as he dug through a drawer for some utensils to fish one out.
He placed a small, square piece on a plate and pushed it towards her.
Maria licked her lips in anticipation as she took the fork she was offered and cut into the item. The crust broke and oozing melted chocolate came out. She could feel herself drooling. Almost trembling with anticipation, she lifted a small piece to her mouth and placed it on her tongue.
Vash opened his mouth to take a bite when a low, pleasured moan filled the kitchen. His face turned red at the sound as his eyes darted to the female nation leaning on the other side of the counter. Maria’s eyes were closed as she allowed the delicious taste and texture of chocolate to melt across her sensitive taste buds.
A deliriously happy looked graced her face as her eyes slowly opened, looking glazed. “It’s delicious…,” she moaned out. “It’s still warm…and it’s melting…,” she almost sang out in praise. Vash found himself watching as she slowly relished every single bite. “Can I have more?”
He nodded vaguely and allowed her to reach over to his side of the counter and scoop two more pieces on her plate. He slowly chewed on his piece as he watched her devour one, little by little, making little moans each time.
It wasn’t long before he realized that they were out and Maria exclaimed she hadn’t realized she had eaten all of them and profusely apologized. Vash shook his head and tried to assure her it was fine when a heavy knock sounded from his door.
Looking for an escape, Vash practically zoomed out of the kitchen, completely disregarding his apron as he frantically unlocked the door. He swung it open and found the expected guest.
Romano had his usual irritated scowl on his face and opened his mouth to demand where Maria was when he saw what the usually gun-toting king of neutrality was wearing.
“Are you wearing an apron?” he snorted indignantly.
“Lovino!” Maria yelled from inside the house. She seemed to pop up behind Vash and wave at him eagerly. “You missed the chocolate!”
The brunette furrowed his brows and looked her, confused. “What?” He made a motion to step in, only to be blocked by Switzerland. “Do you mind moving, Svizzera?” he hissed.
Vash merely narrowed his eyes and stepped aside. Romano walked in and glanced around the surroundings before focusing his attention on the red-clad female coming to greet him. “Did you have trouble finding the place?” she asked as she tip-toed upwards and placed chaste greeting-kisses on each of his cheeks.
Almost as if it were completely natural, Romano mirrored her kisses. “No, I know where his flat is,” he replied curtly. He sent an irritated look back at the blond.
“Let me get my clothes and shoes,” she said as she turned around. She darted into the hall and Romano frowned. He hadn’t dropped her off wearing bright red. As she came out from the hall, holding a pair of damp shoes in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, Romano commented.
“What happened to your clothes?” he asked with distaste. Maria looked up from where she was bent, shoving her feet into the red Chucks.
She frowned. “I got caught in the rain, I told you,” she reminded him sternly. “Didn’t you even notice it was raining?”
“And you just stood outside?” he snorted, as if she had done something stupid. Maria’s face reddened.
“I-”
“She nearly got into an accident trying to call you to pick her up,” Switzerland said in a low voice behind him.
For a moment, Lovino’s eyes widened before turning and narrowing. He looked over his shoulder and shot the blond an annoyed look. “No one asked you, Svizzera.”
“Here!” Romano let out a choked cough as Maria slammed a wet, plastic bag of cloths against his chest. “My clothes are wet, so Vash is letting me borrow his clothes. Ugh…,” she wrinkled her nose as she looked down at her shoes. “They’re still wet.”
“You can change when we get home,” Romano told her firmly as he held her bag. “Come,” he said, extending a free hand in her direction. “Let’s go.”
“Okay, okay,” Maria grumbled. She walked past him and raised her arms. “Vash, thank you very much for your hospitality!”
To Switzerland’s surprise, she stopped in front of him and wrapped him in a warm hug. At once, every muscle in his body tensed as he rigidly accepted the hug.
It was a foreign feeling. He wasn’t even sure what to do with his hands. Was he supposed to hug her back? For how long? What if he accidentally groped her? How could one ‘accidentally’ grope someone else?
“I’ll have your clothes cleaned and then give them back to you,” Maria said as she moved away from him.
“Take…take your time,” he answered gruffly. Maria smiled and leaned upwards once more.
“Thank you again!” she said as she kissed his left cheek. “And thank you for the chocolate!” She kissed him on his right cheek.
Romano rolled his eyes. Clearly, Switzerland needed to get out more if he was frozen after a few simple kisses on the cheek.
“Come, Maria,” the Italian said firmly as he swept past and grasped her hand. “We have to go home.”
Maria gave Vash one last energetic smile and a wave before vanishing out the door.
Vaguely, the blond nation saw himself closing the wooden barrier and locking it. Silently, he stumbled back to the kitchen and caught his reflection on the glass.
He was as red as his shirt.
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Summit Day, A Few Weeks Later
“Brother, Austria invited us over for coffee and cake again,” Lichtenstein told him. “May we join him?”
He grumbled out an uncertain answer as they continued to walk just outside the meeting room, in the lobby. Numerous nations had gathered in little groups, greeting each other as the blond duo made a beeline for the exit.
He didn’t feel like being stopped by Austria or Hungary or someone else. Especially not by Southern Italy. He was almost certain that lately, his neighbor had been more irritated than normal. The rest of his stay in Rome, he hadn’t felt the hospitality he had in past years and he could’ve sworn that Romano was glaring at him.
Switzerland could only assume it was because he had been abnormally nice to the Philippines and the Italian didn’t like that. He didn’t even really understand why. Was Romano jealous? Of what? It’s not like he suddenly, magically sprouted romantic feelings for a nation he just met.
She was friendly, cute, and energetic, certainly, but he wasn’t after her or anything. They weren’t even really friends.
“Vash!” Reality back handed him across the face as he froze in midstep. His sister looked around him and tilted her head to the side.
“Brother, someone is calling your name,” she pointed out.
“Vash!” He heard his name called once more and this time, turned towards the sound. He saw a young woman with her black hair pinned back in a tight bun as she wove through the crowds, clutching a paper bag. “I’m glad I caught you!”
“Oh…Philippines,” he mumbled as a greeting.
Several paces away, Romano was glaring daggers at the back of Switzerland’s head as he watched him uncontrollably brush as the Philippines reached him. She was holding up a back and seemingly thanking him. Then she presented him with some sweets from her country.
His eyes widened. “She didn’t bring me any…,” he mumbled.
“What, Romano?” Spain asked from beside him.
Before Romano could reply, he saw Maria hand the remaining pack of sweets to Lichtenstein before thanking Switzerland once more - with a horrifying kiss on both cheeks - and run off to a group of South East Asian nations going to lunch. Switzerland was left standing like a statue, one white-fisted hand clutching his bag while his sister looked up at him, confused.
Okay…he was lying. Maybe they were friends.
Spain followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “I wonder what’s wrong with him,” the Spaniard mused. He chuckled. “He’s as red as tomato!”
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A.N. - The requests for Switzerland have been completed! Although badly...I’m sorry , guys. This was really hard. I tried. T_T This would require a longer sort of fic to build up a romance, but I hope you’re okay with a sort of unlikely friendship. It’s difficult for me to write PrussiaPiri, too, as they always strike me as a bro-mance. I'm picking on poor Romano again. (Although, to be fair, in his one-shot, he got the girl and happy-fun-bedroom times.)
I also apologize for the crappy pictures. I think I have the line art okay, and the base coloring, but anything after that remains a mystery to me. =_=
Next up, I'm working on the England scribbles. Prepare to NOT BE IMPRESSED. =_="