[Fanfic] Impossible is nothing if you're Italian - chp 03
I'm back to offer you another edited chapter whilst deep into exams. please enjoy!
Author: me
Title: Impossible is nothing if you’re Italian
Pairings: Germany/N.Italy, Spain/S.Italy, mentioned others
Rating: mostly K+, but might get higher, who knows?
Summary: the Italian brothers find themselves pregnant at the same time… the world might not be ready for that.
---
Impossible is nothing if you’re Italian
Chapter 03
Although shocked by his brother’s sudden appearance, Italy felt a sudden sense of relief and warmth make its way inside him.
“Lovi~” he sobbed, feeling fresh tears roll down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders, holding him close.
Burying his face in his older brother’s neck, Italy felt just the slightest bit better.
He didn’t understand why he was still secretly angry at Germany -he couldn’t find a reason to, yet he was- and the anger mixed with guilt for yelling at him at the same time, as his lover hadn’t done anything wrong, but at least Romano was there.
Maybe they didn’t get along so well during the war, and they had their ups and downs even now, since Romano hated Germany with a passion, but Italy loved his brother a lot, and seeing him always calmed him down.
As it was, though, after crying for a long time in his brother’s arms, Italy slowly became acutely aware that the frame holding him close was trembling as well, and he was naked (‘ve~ naked Lovi running around is strange…’) and sniffling.
“V-ve~ Lovi…? What’s wrong?” he asked, biting on his lower lip to stop the tears from coming.
S-stupid Germany made him cry so much! And crying so much was making him feel sick once again, his stomach contracting painfully.
Romano pushed him away a bit, eyes red with tears, cheeks equally red, and after glancing down at his brother, he cradled him into his arms again, seeking comfort and giving it at the same time.
“I-insensitive Antonio-bastard!” he sniffled, his tone coming out in a low growl. “W-why are you crying?! Was it something the potato-bastard did?! I swear I’ll-”
“I’m… I’m gaining weight again~ and I feel ugly and horrible but Ludwig didn’t do anything bad…”
Which was probably just as bad! He should have said something! Germany was always nice, so why didn’t he console him!
‘But he did hold me close…’ Italy was getting confused over his own thoughts.
“You’re what?” South Italy blinked, nudging at Italy’s side, shaking him out of his trance.
“Ah~ I’m fa~t!” he wailed.
Shifting away from his brother, Romano lifted Italy’s shirt up and took a long look at his exposed stomach, outlining his rounder belly so much like his own.
Eyes darkened up in shock.
“The fuck?!”
Italy sniffled, scrubbing his eyes dry and trying to calm down. His brother was here, it was ok. His brother had spontaneously come to him, and the thought gave Italy enough strength to stop crying.
Looking at Romano’s naked body, Italy quickly noticed that he was, indeed, also sporting a round belly, and it was noticeable.
“Ve~ brother is getting fat too~?” tilting his head to the side, Italy hesitantly reached forwards, only to stop when Romano growled at him. “I-is that why you’re here, Lovi? Did Antonio say something to you?”
South Italy harrumphed and looked to the side, massaging his belly and clearly sulking. Italy sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips as he curled closer, pressing one hand on his belly and closing his eyes.
“I-it’s not normal,” he murmured, shivering a bit. He felt suddenly cold. “Is… is yours growing so quickly too? Are you feeling sick, too?”
The older of the two Italies growled, but nodded.
Had it been just him, then it would be ok, but now… his little brother was showing his same symptoms, or at least similar ones.
Before, Romano wouldn’t have cared. Back when they were kids, non-Nations, he’d despised Italy with all his heart, because he always got attention, and had so many skills that Romano envied him for. But during the war, and then afterwards… South Italy had seen something else that made him re-think his standing.
Italy was, in the end, his younger brother, and he cared for him, even if he didn’t show it much even now.
If Italy was hurt, Romano wanted to help him. If Germany-bastard hurt him, he would hurt him back.
And now, it was not possible for the both of them to have the same thing going on. It was almost worrisome.
“I feel sick sometimes during the night,” he admitted, biting his upper lip. “I can’t eat tomatoes at all! A-and bread! I only eat potato-based foods, and they taste…” he scrunched up his nose, his brain complaining against the disgusting thing but his stomach grumbling in appreciation. “I surely caught the Potato-bastard syndrome! S-stupid Ludwig! S-stupid Gilbert!”
“Lovi~ something like this doesn’t exist… probably,” Italy replied, adding the last part as an afterthought.
Then glanced in direction of the kitchen, where Germany hadn’t had enough time to clean up the pasta, so it was still everywhere.
He let out a soft whine.
The two remained silent for a while, strangely reassured by each other’s presence, with Italy snuggled up against Romano’s side and the older of the two curled up on himself.
“What if it’s some sort of new sickness?” he murmured after a while, feeling a bit drowsy. “It could be anything, even a new wave of flu coming from… somewhere!”
“My economy feels fine, though… ve~” Italy replied, yawning. “And so do my agriculture and my factories…” he fidgeted a bit, feeling his stomach churn in pain. “Do you think this has anything to do with us being Nations?”
“If it does, there’s no need to go see a doctor, damn it!”
Suddenly, Italy sprung to his feet, wobbling for a second before running out from the sitting room, feeling bile burn its way through his throat. Romano blinked his sleepiness away, shocked to hear retching sounds coming from the bathroom.
Standing up and vaguely disoriented, South Italy reached his brother in there and stared down at him, suddenly pale.
“You’re sick” he stated.
“S-sì…” was the meek answer, followed by more throwing up.
Romano stood up straighter, face set on his usual, determined scowl. “Fuck with it. We’re going to a doctor!”
“… first put on some clothes, brother…”
…………
Italy nibbled on his lower lip, eyeing the few magazines left on the small table for the patients, promptly losing interest once he noted they were mostly medical-related or gossip ones, and glanced up at his older brother instead.
Romano was standing completely still, sitting straight as a rod, stiff and grumpy, and his demeanour was scaring away a few other people around them.
The two Nations had promptly reached the closest private clinic they could find and were now waiting for their turn in the common room, together with a few others.
Italy was starting to think that maybe this whole thing was a bit too much -he wasn’t feeling sick anymore, now- but Romano, albeit reluctantly, had been the one to push him in there.
The older of the two had actually suggested Venice’s hospital, but his idea had been promptly rejected by the other. Actually going to the hospital would mean an almost endless wait, for Italy himself knew how long it took to be taken in, and it would surely grant to their nerves, and whilst Lovino was almost always pissed off, an annoyed Feliciano was not something the world was ready for.
A nurse moved towards the two, nodding in their direction with a stern expression. She wasn’t cute, and Italy pouted. He’d expected at least a smile. “The doctor will receive you in a moment, please come inside now”.
She didn’t turn around to show them the way, and remained to take the names of the next patient.
As they walked through the aisle to get into the doctor’s office, Italy grasped Romano’s hand into his own, asking and offering some comfort.
In all their long lives, they had never needed to go see a doctor -or at least a human doctor- for anything more than a broken bone here and there (which was quick to heal anyway).
But this was different. They were Nations, yet they didn’t know what was going on. This sickness, these symptoms… they couldn’t understand why they were showing up.
It happened often that they got the flu -with recessions and disasters, or simply when their economy was bad- usually together, and they ended up bitching at each other from one end of the bed to the other, but…
This felt different. They didn’t know the cause.
Was it foreboding?
If the doctor couldn’t find anything strange in then, they would need to see one of the older Nations and ask them for help instead.
“Signori Vargas, it is a pleasure meeting you,” the doctor was a tall man, with dark, brown hair and a small beard, and was smiling at them in a vague attempt at being friendly. He was Italian, and it meant he could feel, somewhere deep inside, that the two he was facing were something special and different from the rest of the people.
Although it could be just that they had enough money to pass off as wealthy, and that was the reason why the man bothered to be nice to them.
Common hospitals’ doctors didn’t get paid that much, after all.
The thought depressed Italy a bit, and instead of jumping at the chance to chat up with one of his humans, he simply pouted and shook the offered hand. “Buongiorno, Signor Pinza”.
“So,” shaking away the strange feeling that slithered through his body the moment he touched the two young men’s hands, the doctor sat down, clearing his throat. “What is the reason you came here?”
The two Italians looked at each other, but it was Romano who spoke up, his voice low and hesitant -he wasn’t used to ask a human for help.
He slowly recounted their symptoms, avoiding to speak about their lovers (amongst humans, a relationship with people of the same sex was still childishly regarded with the same hesitation with whom one would approach a wild predator), his face turning blank every time his lips had to avoid using a curse word.
“… and this has been going on for how long?” the man asked, writing down on his folder with relatively no interest.
“A few weeks,” the two glanced at each other again, nodding to confirm Romano’s words. “And we’re both unable to eat the foods we used to love, as well” ‘fucking shit! I can’t take this useless nice-sucking up anymore! Damn it! Damn it!’
“Anything else?”
“Our stomach looks all round~” Italy interjected, shifting on his chair and wriggling his toes inside the shoes.
He was starting to get bored.
“Hmmm, I see” Dr. Pinza nodded to himself, writing something on his computer. “It might be some sort of intestinal virus, though it doesn’t look probable… to rule out the presence of something more dangerous than that, although it is even less probable, we’ll have to run a few blood tests, and-”
“V-ve~?! B-blood tests?!” Italy’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Y-you mean you have to use syringes and needles?!”
Romano shivered, feeling equally put off. No way! Fucking. No. Way!
“Well, yes,” though perplexed, the doctor had seen his fair share of adult men scared of needles. It was quite normal in his profession. Many had fainted at the prospect of having to get blood extracted, too. “Please allow me to visit you both… I’ll need to weight you, check your heigh and your health reports…”
Italy and Romano stared at each other again. They’d have to invent something about that, or make a quick call to their boss so that he could invent something.
“Follow me to the adjacent room now…” Dr. Pinza stood up again, ready to proceed with the visit.
Italy undressed first, least embarrassed with being mostly naked in front of strangers -besides, this was a human, was it not?- shivering a bit when the man inspected his growing belly with a frown.
“Thank you,” the doctor stated after a while, motioning for Romano to undress as well. “Now, if you could also come here…”
…………
“R-really, Ludwig, I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this to!” Austria looked around, trying to maintain a calm, untouched appearance when inside he was fretting like a kid. He felt both lost and terribly guilty, not that he would ever show it.
Besides, Germany was staring at him in determination, and once again, he broke through his defiance; Austria deflated.
He still remembered far too clearly the horrible tips he’d given to Germany during the Valentine’s Day fallout over fifty years before, and even though he had most assuredly not been the cause of Italy and Germany’s relationship deteriorating for the next twenty years, the Austrian aristocrat still felt guilty about it.
Had he explained Germany that you couldn’t romance someone out of a book, then maybe…
It was only in the late seventies that the two had patched up, and only during the nineties they had finally hooked up, dating with a bit of hesitation and embarrassment.
But that belonged to the past.
They were together now.
Germany still respecting him enough to ask for help…
Austria could look to this as a new chance to make it up with the German Nation -who still didn’t know anything about how the Austrian Nation felt, actually.
“Now, Roderich, please. I am sure that in the last twenty years, book guides have surely improved and progressed further!”
Suddenly in a more pliant mood, Austria returned his gaze on the various books the store offered to his eyes. There were truly so many guides, nowadays…
What could Austria do in the end, if not help the poor German man out as much as he could?
‘I think I should thank the Higher Beings that dear Elizaveta is not around…’
“Moody Italians?” he asked, trying to look less self conscious and more professional. “Are you sure Feliciano isn’t going through some sort of internal recession or something?”
“No, he’s sick, but his economy still looks the same to me,” Germany shook his head, at loss, “and his older brother is going through something similar -he popped up at Feliciano’s house naked and crying and kicked me out”.
Austria massaged his forehead, feeling a sudden bout of headache coming up.
“I wonder about that,” he murmured, sighing. “I’ve lived with little Feli for a long period, but I’ve never seen him gaining weight, and even afterwards, it was just when you told him he was fat that he-”
“I didn’t tell him he got fat!” defensively waving his arms in front of him, Germany scowled. “You’re of no help here”.
“It must be in the air,” Austria didn’t find it in him to reply to Germany’s gruffness with his own retorts, so he simply ignored it. “Just… why don’t you do something nice with him? A date, maybe take him out to the restaurant, or something”.
He flushed, looking to the side, and noticed Germany doing the same. Ah, youth these days.
“I-I’ll do that,” the blond man picked up a book, shifting through the pages, and Austria tilted his head to read the title -’10 things to do when dating your special someone’.
Books lately became weirder and weirder on the account of whom wrote and read them, it appeared; idly, Roderich wondered what would the author think if he knew a Nation was using their book to get into the good graces of another Nation.
Humans were so silly, but Nations were apparently just as much.
“I thought you knew enough on how to behave with Feliciano,” he stated, conversationally after a short pause spent staring down at a few music-related books.
The one on ‘Entice your lover with Chopin’ did sound pretty well thought out…
Germany’s flush covered his face down to his neck, but thankfully Austria was too caught up to notice it.
“Well, I do, but I don’t -he’s hard to understand and -well, help is always welcome and… forget it!” Germany threw the book on the shelf and hurried over to the next one, busying himself with other date-books, whilst Austria, despite himself, couldn’t restrain a chuckle.
…………………
Hello ^^ third chapter is out. I have finished editing all the five I had written, and I'm writing ahead a bit, so when I finished posting these edited I'll start giving you the new ones!
Dottore (Italian) - doctor
Signori (Italian) - plural form for mister.
Author: me
Title: Impossible is nothing if you’re Italian
Pairings: Germany/N.Italy, Spain/S.Italy, mentioned others
Rating: mostly K+, but might get higher, who knows?
Summary: the Italian brothers find themselves pregnant at the same time… the world might not be ready for that.
---
Impossible is nothing if you’re Italian
Chapter 03
Although shocked by his brother’s sudden appearance, Italy felt a sudden sense of relief and warmth make its way inside him.
“Lovi~” he sobbed, feeling fresh tears roll down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders, holding him close.
Burying his face in his older brother’s neck, Italy felt just the slightest bit better.
He didn’t understand why he was still secretly angry at Germany -he couldn’t find a reason to, yet he was- and the anger mixed with guilt for yelling at him at the same time, as his lover hadn’t done anything wrong, but at least Romano was there.
Maybe they didn’t get along so well during the war, and they had their ups and downs even now, since Romano hated Germany with a passion, but Italy loved his brother a lot, and seeing him always calmed him down.
As it was, though, after crying for a long time in his brother’s arms, Italy slowly became acutely aware that the frame holding him close was trembling as well, and he was naked (‘ve~ naked Lovi running around is strange…’) and sniffling.
“V-ve~ Lovi…? What’s wrong?” he asked, biting on his lower lip to stop the tears from coming.
S-stupid Germany made him cry so much! And crying so much was making him feel sick once again, his stomach contracting painfully.
Romano pushed him away a bit, eyes red with tears, cheeks equally red, and after glancing down at his brother, he cradled him into his arms again, seeking comfort and giving it at the same time.
“I-insensitive Antonio-bastard!” he sniffled, his tone coming out in a low growl. “W-why are you crying?! Was it something the potato-bastard did?! I swear I’ll-”
“I’m… I’m gaining weight again~ and I feel ugly and horrible but Ludwig didn’t do anything bad…”
Which was probably just as bad! He should have said something! Germany was always nice, so why didn’t he console him!
‘But he did hold me close…’ Italy was getting confused over his own thoughts.
“You’re what?” South Italy blinked, nudging at Italy’s side, shaking him out of his trance.
“Ah~ I’m fa~t!” he wailed.
Shifting away from his brother, Romano lifted Italy’s shirt up and took a long look at his exposed stomach, outlining his rounder belly so much like his own.
Eyes darkened up in shock.
“The fuck?!”
Italy sniffled, scrubbing his eyes dry and trying to calm down. His brother was here, it was ok. His brother had spontaneously come to him, and the thought gave Italy enough strength to stop crying.
Looking at Romano’s naked body, Italy quickly noticed that he was, indeed, also sporting a round belly, and it was noticeable.
“Ve~ brother is getting fat too~?” tilting his head to the side, Italy hesitantly reached forwards, only to stop when Romano growled at him. “I-is that why you’re here, Lovi? Did Antonio say something to you?”
South Italy harrumphed and looked to the side, massaging his belly and clearly sulking. Italy sighed, but there was a small smile on his lips as he curled closer, pressing one hand on his belly and closing his eyes.
“I-it’s not normal,” he murmured, shivering a bit. He felt suddenly cold. “Is… is yours growing so quickly too? Are you feeling sick, too?”
The older of the two Italies growled, but nodded.
Had it been just him, then it would be ok, but now… his little brother was showing his same symptoms, or at least similar ones.
Before, Romano wouldn’t have cared. Back when they were kids, non-Nations, he’d despised Italy with all his heart, because he always got attention, and had so many skills that Romano envied him for. But during the war, and then afterwards… South Italy had seen something else that made him re-think his standing.
Italy was, in the end, his younger brother, and he cared for him, even if he didn’t show it much even now.
If Italy was hurt, Romano wanted to help him. If Germany-bastard hurt him, he would hurt him back.
And now, it was not possible for the both of them to have the same thing going on. It was almost worrisome.
“I feel sick sometimes during the night,” he admitted, biting his upper lip. “I can’t eat tomatoes at all! A-and bread! I only eat potato-based foods, and they taste…” he scrunched up his nose, his brain complaining against the disgusting thing but his stomach grumbling in appreciation. “I surely caught the Potato-bastard syndrome! S-stupid Ludwig! S-stupid Gilbert!”
“Lovi~ something like this doesn’t exist… probably,” Italy replied, adding the last part as an afterthought.
Then glanced in direction of the kitchen, where Germany hadn’t had enough time to clean up the pasta, so it was still everywhere.
He let out a soft whine.
The two remained silent for a while, strangely reassured by each other’s presence, with Italy snuggled up against Romano’s side and the older of the two curled up on himself.
“What if it’s some sort of new sickness?” he murmured after a while, feeling a bit drowsy. “It could be anything, even a new wave of flu coming from… somewhere!”
“My economy feels fine, though… ve~” Italy replied, yawning. “And so do my agriculture and my factories…” he fidgeted a bit, feeling his stomach churn in pain. “Do you think this has anything to do with us being Nations?”
“If it does, there’s no need to go see a doctor, damn it!”
Suddenly, Italy sprung to his feet, wobbling for a second before running out from the sitting room, feeling bile burn its way through his throat. Romano blinked his sleepiness away, shocked to hear retching sounds coming from the bathroom.
Standing up and vaguely disoriented, South Italy reached his brother in there and stared down at him, suddenly pale.
“You’re sick” he stated.
“S-sì…” was the meek answer, followed by more throwing up.
Romano stood up straighter, face set on his usual, determined scowl. “Fuck with it. We’re going to a doctor!”
“… first put on some clothes, brother…”
…………
Italy nibbled on his lower lip, eyeing the few magazines left on the small table for the patients, promptly losing interest once he noted they were mostly medical-related or gossip ones, and glanced up at his older brother instead.
Romano was standing completely still, sitting straight as a rod, stiff and grumpy, and his demeanour was scaring away a few other people around them.
The two Nations had promptly reached the closest private clinic they could find and were now waiting for their turn in the common room, together with a few others.
Italy was starting to think that maybe this whole thing was a bit too much -he wasn’t feeling sick anymore, now- but Romano, albeit reluctantly, had been the one to push him in there.
The older of the two had actually suggested Venice’s hospital, but his idea had been promptly rejected by the other. Actually going to the hospital would mean an almost endless wait, for Italy himself knew how long it took to be taken in, and it would surely grant to their nerves, and whilst Lovino was almost always pissed off, an annoyed Feliciano was not something the world was ready for.
A nurse moved towards the two, nodding in their direction with a stern expression. She wasn’t cute, and Italy pouted. He’d expected at least a smile. “The doctor will receive you in a moment, please come inside now”.
She didn’t turn around to show them the way, and remained to take the names of the next patient.
As they walked through the aisle to get into the doctor’s office, Italy grasped Romano’s hand into his own, asking and offering some comfort.
In all their long lives, they had never needed to go see a doctor -or at least a human doctor- for anything more than a broken bone here and there (which was quick to heal anyway).
But this was different. They were Nations, yet they didn’t know what was going on. This sickness, these symptoms… they couldn’t understand why they were showing up.
It happened often that they got the flu -with recessions and disasters, or simply when their economy was bad- usually together, and they ended up bitching at each other from one end of the bed to the other, but…
This felt different. They didn’t know the cause.
Was it foreboding?
If the doctor couldn’t find anything strange in then, they would need to see one of the older Nations and ask them for help instead.
“Signori Vargas, it is a pleasure meeting you,” the doctor was a tall man, with dark, brown hair and a small beard, and was smiling at them in a vague attempt at being friendly. He was Italian, and it meant he could feel, somewhere deep inside, that the two he was facing were something special and different from the rest of the people.
Although it could be just that they had enough money to pass off as wealthy, and that was the reason why the man bothered to be nice to them.
Common hospitals’ doctors didn’t get paid that much, after all.
The thought depressed Italy a bit, and instead of jumping at the chance to chat up with one of his humans, he simply pouted and shook the offered hand. “Buongiorno, Signor Pinza”.
“So,” shaking away the strange feeling that slithered through his body the moment he touched the two young men’s hands, the doctor sat down, clearing his throat. “What is the reason you came here?”
The two Italians looked at each other, but it was Romano who spoke up, his voice low and hesitant -he wasn’t used to ask a human for help.
He slowly recounted their symptoms, avoiding to speak about their lovers (amongst humans, a relationship with people of the same sex was still childishly regarded with the same hesitation with whom one would approach a wild predator), his face turning blank every time his lips had to avoid using a curse word.
“… and this has been going on for how long?” the man asked, writing down on his folder with relatively no interest.
“A few weeks,” the two glanced at each other again, nodding to confirm Romano’s words. “And we’re both unable to eat the foods we used to love, as well” ‘fucking shit! I can’t take this useless nice-sucking up anymore! Damn it! Damn it!’
“Anything else?”
“Our stomach looks all round~” Italy interjected, shifting on his chair and wriggling his toes inside the shoes.
He was starting to get bored.
“Hmmm, I see” Dr. Pinza nodded to himself, writing something on his computer. “It might be some sort of intestinal virus, though it doesn’t look probable… to rule out the presence of something more dangerous than that, although it is even less probable, we’ll have to run a few blood tests, and-”
“V-ve~?! B-blood tests?!” Italy’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Y-you mean you have to use syringes and needles?!”
Romano shivered, feeling equally put off. No way! Fucking. No. Way!
“Well, yes,” though perplexed, the doctor had seen his fair share of adult men scared of needles. It was quite normal in his profession. Many had fainted at the prospect of having to get blood extracted, too. “Please allow me to visit you both… I’ll need to weight you, check your heigh and your health reports…”
Italy and Romano stared at each other again. They’d have to invent something about that, or make a quick call to their boss so that he could invent something.
“Follow me to the adjacent room now…” Dr. Pinza stood up again, ready to proceed with the visit.
Italy undressed first, least embarrassed with being mostly naked in front of strangers -besides, this was a human, was it not?- shivering a bit when the man inspected his growing belly with a frown.
“Thank you,” the doctor stated after a while, motioning for Romano to undress as well. “Now, if you could also come here…”
…………
“R-really, Ludwig, I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this to!” Austria looked around, trying to maintain a calm, untouched appearance when inside he was fretting like a kid. He felt both lost and terribly guilty, not that he would ever show it.
Besides, Germany was staring at him in determination, and once again, he broke through his defiance; Austria deflated.
He still remembered far too clearly the horrible tips he’d given to Germany during the Valentine’s Day fallout over fifty years before, and even though he had most assuredly not been the cause of Italy and Germany’s relationship deteriorating for the next twenty years, the Austrian aristocrat still felt guilty about it.
Had he explained Germany that you couldn’t romance someone out of a book, then maybe…
It was only in the late seventies that the two had patched up, and only during the nineties they had finally hooked up, dating with a bit of hesitation and embarrassment.
But that belonged to the past.
They were together now.
Germany still respecting him enough to ask for help…
Austria could look to this as a new chance to make it up with the German Nation -who still didn’t know anything about how the Austrian Nation felt, actually.
“Now, Roderich, please. I am sure that in the last twenty years, book guides have surely improved and progressed further!”
Suddenly in a more pliant mood, Austria returned his gaze on the various books the store offered to his eyes. There were truly so many guides, nowadays…
What could Austria do in the end, if not help the poor German man out as much as he could?
‘I think I should thank the Higher Beings that dear Elizaveta is not around…’
“Moody Italians?” he asked, trying to look less self conscious and more professional. “Are you sure Feliciano isn’t going through some sort of internal recession or something?”
“No, he’s sick, but his economy still looks the same to me,” Germany shook his head, at loss, “and his older brother is going through something similar -he popped up at Feliciano’s house naked and crying and kicked me out”.
Austria massaged his forehead, feeling a sudden bout of headache coming up.
“I wonder about that,” he murmured, sighing. “I’ve lived with little Feli for a long period, but I’ve never seen him gaining weight, and even afterwards, it was just when you told him he was fat that he-”
“I didn’t tell him he got fat!” defensively waving his arms in front of him, Germany scowled. “You’re of no help here”.
“It must be in the air,” Austria didn’t find it in him to reply to Germany’s gruffness with his own retorts, so he simply ignored it. “Just… why don’t you do something nice with him? A date, maybe take him out to the restaurant, or something”.
He flushed, looking to the side, and noticed Germany doing the same. Ah, youth these days.
“I-I’ll do that,” the blond man picked up a book, shifting through the pages, and Austria tilted his head to read the title -’10 things to do when dating your special someone’.
Books lately became weirder and weirder on the account of whom wrote and read them, it appeared; idly, Roderich wondered what would the author think if he knew a Nation was using their book to get into the good graces of another Nation.
Humans were so silly, but Nations were apparently just as much.
“I thought you knew enough on how to behave with Feliciano,” he stated, conversationally after a short pause spent staring down at a few music-related books.
The one on ‘Entice your lover with Chopin’ did sound pretty well thought out…
Germany’s flush covered his face down to his neck, but thankfully Austria was too caught up to notice it.
“Well, I do, but I don’t -he’s hard to understand and -well, help is always welcome and… forget it!” Germany threw the book on the shelf and hurried over to the next one, busying himself with other date-books, whilst Austria, despite himself, couldn’t restrain a chuckle.
…………………
Hello ^^ third chapter is out. I have finished editing all the five I had written, and I'm writing ahead a bit, so when I finished posting these edited I'll start giving you the new ones!
Dottore (Italian) - doctor
Signori (Italian) - plural form for mister.