- Turtle-chan
Well, today’s the day. After all of the preparations, you’re finally
getting to leave Germany’s house and go further away than Austria’s place. Of course, you’ll be going with the guys, but
it will be nice to have a change of scenery.
As much as you like it at Germany’s, it gets boring and lonely
sometimes. But you don’t have to worry
about it today because today is the day of the formal being held for all of the
countries with France as the host. There
are varied feelings about this within the house. Italy, of course, is excited, Germany is
worried and convinced something bad is going to happen, and you can’t figure
out what Japan is thinking, as usual.
You, on the other hand, are excited and nervous, but mostly excited.
Soon, you’ll go over to
Austria’s house to get ready with Hungary.
It’s a formal event, as in elegant dresses for the girls and tuxedos for
the guys. You’re usually not into all of
that, but something about it excites you now.
You can’t wait to go and get dolled up with Hungary.
“EFERYONE!” you hear Germany
shout up the stairs. “VE NEET TO HAF A
MEETINK!”
You get up and shake your head
with a smile, knowing he’s overanalyzing things as usual, as you walk down to
the kitchen. Japan is already there and
Italy walks in around the same time as you do.
“What’s the matter, Germany?” Italy asks him, looking confused.
“Ve neet to talk about zee plan
for tonight,” Germany responds, sitting down at the table. You all follow suit.
“Gerrrrmmannnyyyyyy,” Italy
complains. “You worry too much! Big brother France is just throwing a party
because he likes them. It’s not a trap!”
“Nein! You do not know zat!”
Germany responds sharply. “So, ve are
goink to make a klear plan so zat ve all know vhat to do if it is a trap.”
You all nod, though Italy does
so somewhat reluctantly. “Do you know
how many people are going to be there?” you ask Germany.
“Zere shoult be about seventeen
people zere, I sink, unless he invitet zee Baltiks, Russia’s schwestern, unt zee Nortiks. I do not know if all of zem vill kome,
zough,” he responds after quickly counting off people in his head. “Zee four of us vill be zere, unt I sink my
whole family is komink. But eferyone
else is vis zee Allies or generally against us.
Vell, except Spain unt Italy’s bruder,
but zey do not really kount.”
“Alright, so that’s what? Nine—eleven if you count Spain and
Romano—against seventeen? Can we handle
that?” you ask, taking a moment to count up in your head all of the people you
know out of the groups he named. You
think you have the count right.
“Wait, isn’t it sixteen?” Italy
asks.
“Did you forget Canada?” you
sigh. Everyone forgets poor little
Canada.
“Oh yeah~! “ Italy says, seeming
pleased for some reason.
“Anyvay, I do not vish for us to
haf to hantle zat many, but I sink zat ve voult be able to if ve hat to. Alzough, I do not sink zat you shoult get
into a fight if you kan avoit it,” Germany says, eying you sternly.
“And you know that I’m not going
to be using the white flag Italy made for me unless I absolutely have to,” you
smirk. “But beyond that, who are our
biggest threats?”
“I voult say zat Russia is our
top priority, as vell as China. Russia’s
schwestern are fery dangerous as
vell, especially Belarus. Stay avay from
her. Unt I voult be vary of all of zee
Nortiks. I do not know much about zem. Kan you sink of anyone else zat is fery
dangerous, Japan?” Germany says, turning to the silent Asian man.
“No, I believe you have listed
all major tactical threats. England-san
can be dangerous, but I believe he will have his hands full with America-san
and France-san. Comparatively speaking,
we should have the advantage of skill where they have the advantage of
numbers,” Japan responds in his quiet voice.
You nod and say,” Right. So what I’m hearing here is that there are
basically just a lot of really strong countries and a few unstable ones. I think a confrontation can be avoided if
we’re careful. How should we alert the
others if there is a conflict, though?”
“Oh! I know~!” Italy exclaims, waving hand in the
air excitedly.
“Yes, Italy?” Germany responds
warily.
“We just yell out
PPPPPAAAAASSSSSSTTTTTAAAAAA~!” he tells us, smiling blissfully.
“Nein,” Germany sighs.
“How about we just try keeping
close to each other, then? Like, have at
least one person on our side within your eyesight at all times,” you suggest.
“That seems like a sound
proposition to me,” Japan says, surprising everyone by giving his opinion
unsolicited.
“Alright, zen ve vill do
zat. I sink zat about kofers it. Eferyone, do vhat you neet to to prepare
yourselfes unt ve vill all go to zee party togezer,” Germany announces, ending
the meeting.
You look up at the clock and
notice that it’s time for you to go over to Austria’s to get ready. “Hey, Germany,” you call out and he looks up
at you from where he is finishing taking notes from the meeting.
“Ja?” he responds.
“It’s time for me to go over to
Austria’s to get ready,” you say as you slip your shoes on. “Do you want me to meet you guys back here or
what?”
“Ah, nein. Ve vill kome unt pick
you up on zee vay,” he responds, rubbing his eyes and standing up.
“Alright, well I’ll see you
then, in that case,” you tell him, walking over and squeezing his hand quickly.
He surprises you by pulling you
into a hug. “Be safe,” he murmurs to the
top of your head.
You smile against his chest and
look up at him. “I will be. I have to go now, though,” you say.
“Right.” He lets go of you and you throw a smile over
your shoulder at him as you go out the front door.
You make the walk to Austria’s
as quickly as possible, stopping just short of running there. When you ring the doorbell, Hungary opens the
door and ushers you inside with a bright smile.
“Hi, (y/n)! Are you ready?” she
says as she leads you to her room. You
hear a piano playing somewhere in the house.
“Yeah, I am! By the way, is something wrong with
Austria? Isn’t that Chopin I hear?” you
respond, still straining to hear the piano.
“Oh, that. He’s upset about having to go to the party,
but I know he’ll enjoy it once he gets there.
It’s just best to let him work his feelings out on the piano,” she
laughs. You giggle together as Hungary
leads you into her room. She has
everything set out, it would seem, and you’re already feeling a little
overwhelmed. “Are you ready to start?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you
grin, shutting the door behind you.
~~~
Finally you were finished. It had taken the better part of about three
hours to get the two of you dressed and in full makeup, as well as doing each
other’s hair. Now that it was over, you
looked at each other in the mirror smiling approvingly. Hungary is wearing a long forest-green
strapless dress with a light dusting of sparkles at the top of the modified
sweetheart neckline. Her light brown
hair is curled into loose ringlets and pinned back with a few pretty white
roses. You are wearing a one-strap,
blood-red evening gown with a true sweetheart neckline. There is a slit on the side that goes up to
about mid-thigh, but it is not too revealing otherwise. There are a few silver sparkles scattered
across the torso area of the dress, but it is plain otherwise. Your hair is
curled and piled on top of your head with some silver rhinestones twisted in as
decoration. Standing there and looking
at Hungary’s handiwork, you have to admit that you look stunning.
“I think we did pretty well,”
you tell her.
“Ja! I think so, too,” she
replies cheerfully. “Oh, I almost
forgot. I have something for you because
I think you may end up needing it eventually.”
You watch her as she rummages through a drawer in her dresser, looking
for something. She straightens and turns
back toward you when she finds it. “Here. Germany has been teaching you how to shoot,
right? Well, knowing him, he expects
some big battle at this party and he might ask you to carry a gun, so this
thigh holster should be perfect for concealing a pistol!”
You take the lacy black piece of
fabric from her and you can’t help but think that it looks like a garter. The thought makes you blush a little bit, but
the makeup covers it. “Thanks,” you tell
her, trying to figure out how to put it on.
“He’s really predictable, isn’t he?
He made this big plan this morning.
Basically, he wants all of us to be on our guard.”
“You can’t complain that he
doesn’t try to keep you safe,” she jokes, winking. “Here, just slip it on like that.” She shows you that you have to step into the
holster and slide it up your leg. Like a
garter. “The gun should rest on the
inside of your thigh for this holster, that way it won’t be obvious that you’re
carrying.”
“Thanks again, Hungary,” you
smile, giving her a quick side hug. You
hear the doorbell ring and a nervous fluttering starts up in your stomach.
“Oh, it sounds like your knight
has come to pick you up, princess,” Hungary giggles, wiggling her eyebrows at
you suggestively.
You giggle with her and turn to
the door. “Come on, Hungary. Let’s go knock those boys dead!”
You carefully make your way down
the stairs, arm in arm, to find the boys standing stiffly together in the
living room. Austria is wearing a suit
of a dark blue with a white shirt and tie underneath and a white rose in his
buttonhole. You smile a little bit on
the inside to know that he and Hungary at least match flowers. Then, you see Germany and the breath seems to
be sucked out of your body.
He is wearing a classic black
suit with a red vest and tie over his white dress shirt. The jacket of the suit stretches tight over
his broad shoulders, but in a tasteful way.
His hair is slicked back as usual, but a few hairs are loose and hang
over his forehead. You can’t tear your
eyes away from him; he looks so handsome.
Then, he turns to look at you as he hears you come down the stairs and
his baby blue eyes go wide with surprise.
You’re both just staring at each other, unable to look away. You watch a light blush cover his cheeks and
you feel yourself blushing as well.
Hungary is the one who helps you snap out of it.
“You clean up pretty nicely
after all, military man,” she laughs, punching Germany in the arm.
He blinks quickly and looks down
at her. “Zank you,” he says. “I sink…”
You giggle and turn to
Austria. “You look very nice,
Austria. Blue is a good color on you,”
you tell him with a smile.
“Ah, thank you,” he
responds. “Despite my distaste for such
a gaudy color, you look very nice as well.”
“Oh, thank you! Hungary helped me pick,” you grin, glancing
over at her. She looks shy. Well, shy for Hungary, that is.
“Ah, I see,” is all Austria has
to say.
Hungary smiles a little to
herself and then turns back to Germany.
She goes up on her toes and whispers something into his ear. When she’s done, he nods stiffly. “Well, I guess we should all be going now,”
Hungary says to the room as a whole.
“Yes, let’s get this over with,
shall we,” Austria sighs. You all make
your way out the door and Hungary locks it behind her.
Austria and Hungary walk in
front of you and you notice that Austria has offered Hungary his arm. He isn’t looking at her and he only gives
brief responses while they talk, but it makes you smile all the same. “U-um, (y/n)?” Germany says from beside you.
You look up at him and notice a
faint blush on his cheeks. “Hm?” you
respond. You then look down and notice
that he has offered you his arm and you smile and take it, leaning into him for
a moment. “You look great.” You smile up at him and he averts his eyes.
“Y-you look fery nice as vell,”
he responds shyly.
You giggle and keep walking,
following behind Austria and Hungary.
“So where are Italy and Japan?” you ask Germany after a brief silence.
“Zey vent earlier vis Spain unt
Romano. Zey shoult be zere ven ve
arrife,” he responds. “Japan is supposet
to tell zem of zee plan. I assume you
haf tolt Austria unt Hungary?”
“No, but Hungary guessed
it. I doubt she’ll let Austria get into
any trouble,” you tell him.
“Ah, I see,” is all he says,
appearing to be in thought. “Hungary
mentionet zat she gafe you a holster.”
“Yeah, she did. She said it would make it easier to conceal a
weapon if you wanted me to carry one,” you respond.
“I do vant you to haf one. Here,” he says, reaching into a pocket inside
his jacket and pulling out his Luger, holding it out to you. “I do not vant you to haf to use it,
zough. If zere is fightink, I vant you
to run.”
You take the pistol from him and
stop walking, letting go of his arm. “I
don’t make any promises about running, but I won’t charge head-on into a fight,”
you tell him as you bend down and try to discreetly slip the gun into the
holster on your thigh. Germany
respectfully looks away. “Don’t worry. I’ll play it safe.”
You straighten back up and take
his arm again, noticing the concern etched on his face. “Alright.
Let us get ziz ofer vis,” he says before leading you through the doorway
of France’s house.
Everything is decorated very
elegantly and you can’t help but look around in wonder. You’re so used to the functional simplicity
of Germany’s house by this point that seeing all of the finery fills you with
awe. There are people, most likely
countries, milling about all throughout the house. Shortly after you enter, you notice a man
with long blonde hair tied back with a blue ribbon and wearing a perfectly
white suit offset with a blue tie and a red rose at his breast approaching you.
“Bonjour, monsieur Germany,”
he calls out, holding his arms outstretched as though he were going to hug
Germany. You feel his arm tense under
your hands, but he keeps his face composed and passive.
“Hallo, France,” he responds laconically.
“I am so glad you could make it
to my little party tonight,” the man says in his thick French accent. His blue eyes, several shades darker than
Germany’s, shift over to look at you and he gives you a charming smile. “Well, well.
Who are you, mademoiselle?”
“Zis is (y/n),” he tells the man
before turning to you. “(Y/n), zis is
France.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,
sir,” you tell France, offering him your hand to shake.
“Non. The pleasure is all
mine,” he says, taking your hand and placing a light kiss on the knuckles, his
blonde stubble tickling your skin a little.
You feel yourself blushing deeply and France smiles at you. “As much as I would like to stay and chat, I
have other guests to attend to. Perhaps
we will be able to speak again during the party. If I do not see you again, I hope you both
enjoy yourselves.”
With that, he gives a wink and
leaves, disappearing into the crowd of bodies.
You turn and open your mouth to say something to Germany, but you’re
interrupted by a loud cry of “GEEEEERRRRRRMMMAAAANNNNNNYYYYYYYYY!” from across
the ballroom. Germany sighs and looks
frustrated, but also concerned. You
notice him reach toward his belt for a weapon and you let go of his arm.
“Go fint Japan. I vill take kare of Italy. If somesink goes wrong, just run. Ve vill meet up vis you later,” Germany says
gruffly before dashing off through the crowd.
You’re a little tense, but you
think that Italy is probably just getting bullied again, so it’s probably
nothing. Still, you set off into the
crowd to look for Japan, feeling the cool steel of the Luger brush reassuringly
against your thigh with each step. You
quickly become lost in the crowd, however, and feel overwhelmed. Just as you’re frantically looking around for
a familiar face, you feel a presence behind you and a tap on your shoulder.
“Здравствуйте! Are you alright?” the person says in a deep,
thickly accented voice. You turn around
to face the person and your eyes only come to about the level of his
collarbone. Not that you could tell
underneath the cream-colored scarf.
He is extremely tall, probably
even taller than Germany, in fact, and he has platinum blonde hair that is so
light it almost looks as white as Prussia’s.
He has a cute, round, almost childish face and his eyes are a stunning
shade of violet. He is dressed in a suit
like the other men, but he wears a long scarf instead of a tie. You think it a little strange, but it seems
to work for him. Noticing you haven’t
replied yet, you stutter out an, “O-oh!
Yes, I think so. Thank you for
asking, sir. I was just looking for a
friend.”
“Oh, a friend? I can help you, da? It is easy for me to be
seeing because I am so tall,” he says, smiling at you sweetly.
“Would you mind?” you ask him, a
little surprised. “If it wouldn’t be a
bother, that would be a huge help to me.”
“Of course!” he responds
cheerfully. “Who is it that you are
looking for?”
“I’m looking for Japan. I just don’t know anyone here and I’m a
little shy, so I’d like to stick close to people I know if at all possible,”
you tell him, giving him a small, awkward, almost apologetic smile.
“Oh, Japan?” he asks. He is still smiling, but you notice some
subtle change in the expression so that it has transformed from cute and
welcoming to dark and ominous. You are
slightly uncomfortable. “What is your name? I do not think we have been meeting before.”
“I-I’m (y/n),” you tell him
nervously. “I’m kind of new around here,
but I’m a friend of Germany’s and he asked me to come with him tonight. I don’t think we’ve met before. I only know the Allies and the Germanics.”
“Ah, I see,” he says, seeming to
mull the information over. “I am
Russia. It is a pleasure to be meeting
you, da?” He extends a large gloved hand for you to
shake and you take it. His grip is firm,
his hand is warm, and he doesn’t feel as dangerous anymore. So this
is Russia…
“It’s nice meeting you too, Mr.
Russia,” you agree, smiling up at him.
Despite what the Axis have told you, Russia seems pretty nice. Maybe he doesn’t have the best social skills,
but he does seem genuinely sweet. You
can’t figure out what scares them so badly.
Even Germany acts uncomfortable when talking about him.
You notice Russia standing up
straighter and squinting his violet eyes as he looks all around the room,
scanning it for Japan. He does this for
several moments before sighing and turning back to you. “I am sorry.
I am not able to be finding Japan in this crowd. There are too many people and he is such
little person,” he tells you, giving you a small shrug.
“Oh, it’s fine. Thank you for helping, anyway,” you respond,
a little disappointed and a little nervous to have to go through the crowd
again, but not ungrateful.
“If you want, you can be staying
with me until you find him. We can be
friends, da?” Russia suggests,
looking a little nervous.
“That would be nice,” you reply
with a broad grin up at him. “Thank
you!”
“So, how is it that you are
coming to meet the Axis?” Russia asks you in a conversational tone, but you
feel unsettled again, like something isn’t quite right.
“Hm, I’m not really sure how I
got there, but they found me in an alley, I think. They took me in and I’ve been living with
them ever since. It’s been almost two
years now,” you tell him honestly.
“Ah, so you must be the one that
they have been hiding,” Russia smiles and you think you notice the shadows
around his face have gotten deeper somehow.
“W-well, I wouldn’t say that
they’ve been hiding me, but Germany is very private. If they were hiding me, I doubt they’d have
brought me along with them tonight,” you rationalize, trying to figure out
where Russia is going with this.
He stops and thinks for a moment
and then nods. “Da, you are right, (y/n),” he smiles. “You are very smart!”
“Thank you,” you return, a
little surprised at his emotional one-eighty.
“You’re so sweet~!”
You think you might detect a
hint of a blush on his cheeks, but it’s hard to tell under the scarf which he
has pulled up higher over his face. You
wonder briefly what that’s all about, but you move on quickly. You notice that as you have been walking
around the ballroom with Russia, people have been giving the two of you a very
wide berth and many of them look suspicious and terrified. You’re still deciding if you should mention
it or not when you hear an unearthly shriek from somewhere nearby.
“BROOOOOTTHHHEERRRRR!!!!!” the
voice screams and you see the crowd parting quickly as something comes
barreling through. Oh, please tell me it’s not…
Russia looks terrified as he
grabs your hand and starts running into the crowd, pulling you behind him. You struggle to keep up with him, but between
the running and the look on his face, you know your suspicions are confirmed. When you risk a glance behind you, you see
nothing but what looks like a cloud of dust roaring straight towards the two of
you. Russia is crying in fear, tears
dripping down his cheeks as he runs, and you stumble as you try to keep up. That horrifying dust ball keeps getting
closer and closer and, as you expected, someone doesn’t get out of the way fast
enough, so you fall, your hand getting ripped out of Russia’s.
You try to get back to your
feet, but your legs are tangled in your long dress and you have to manually
untangle them to either get up or get to the Luger. Russia stops running and comes back to you,
worrying and trying to help you get up, but it’s no use. The dust cloud is almost on top of you and
there’s no escape.
“BROOOOOTTHHHHEEERRRRR!!!!” it
screeches again as it comes to a stop right at your feet. You instinctively jerk back and shield your
eyes. Before you know it, you feel
something cold on your neck and you freeze, slowly uncovering your eyes.
You find yourself staring into
the face of a beautiful but angry girl with dark blue eyes that almost look
purple and fair skin. Her hair is long
and dirty blond and it is all held back with a deep purple ribbon. She glares down at you and she holds a knife
to your throat as she hisses,” Stay away from my brother.”
“N-now, now, Belarus,” Russia
stammers, holding his hands up appealingly.
“Quiet! “she tells him, turning
her glare on him for a moment. “I can be
handling her myself!”
“Miss Belarus, I’m not trying to
take your brother away from you. I asked
him for help finding my friend and he was just being nice,” you try to explain
to her, calmly and rationally.
You seem to be forgetting that
logic isn’t her strong suit. “NO!” she
screams, pushing the knife harder to the fragile skin of your neck. “You are trying to take my brother away from
me. He is mine! Only mine!
You cannot be having him!”
“Belarus,” you start to say,
quietly and calmly. At the same time, a
deep voice barks out the same word from somewhere to your left side. You don’t dare risk turning your head, but you’d
know that voice anywhere.
“Germany,” Belarus hisses. “You will be staying out of this. It is not your business.”
“Nein. It is my
business. Zat is meine Freundin zat you are holtink a knife to unt I do not like zat
you are doink so,” Germany says and you can hear the rustle of his suit as he
crosses his arms.
The room has gone dead silent as
they watch three of the most powerful nations—who also just so happen to be the
most feared as well—facing off. “Well
maybe you need to be talking to your woman about hanging around with my
brother, then! I will not be standing
for it!” Belarus declares. For such a
tiny, pretty body, she sure has a lot of anger.
“She was not trying to be doing
what you say she was doing, sister. I
was helping her. We make friends, da?” Russia pipes in, directing the last
of it to me, I assume.
“That’s right, Mr. Russia. Thank you,” you reply, smiling faintly.
“I think zat you neet to bak
off, Belarus,” Germany says, his dress shoes tapping on the hard floor as he
walks slowly closer to you. “It sounts
to me like zis vas all a misunterstantink unt it voult be better if ve all just
forgot about it.”
“You know that I cannot be doing
that, Germany,” Belarus responds, but you sense her resolve weakening.
“Please, sister. Do not be killing my friends. I would be having sadness,” Russia pleads and
you silently thank him a thousand times over for it. Belarus cracks.
“W-well, fine. I will not be killing you yet, girl. But do not be hanging around my brother. He is mine!” she says petulantly, adding her
last threat before removing the knife and slipping it back into its sheath on
her thigh. She stands up, brushes her
dark purple dress off, and walks over to Russia as though nothing had
happened. She latches onto his arm and
smiles up at him. “I would like to be
dancing with you, brother.”
As she drags poor Russia off to
the dance floor, he shoots a scared yet apologetic look over his shoulder at
you. You mouth a “thank you” to him and
he smiles faintly before disappearing into the crowd which has finally come
back to life. You take a moment to catch
your breath and come down off of the adrenaline rush a little bit.
“Are you alright?” Germany asks,
squatting down to your level and cupping your cheek in his hand. His brow is creased with worry and his blue
eyes seem to be searching for injuries.
You cover his hand with your own
and smile tiredly. “I’m alright. Thanks for saving me,” you respond.
“She dit not hurt you, dit she?”
he asks, eyes still searching.
“No, she didn’t. I’m fine.
Really,” you tell him, lifting his chin to force him to look you in the
eyes.
You weren’t quite expecting to
see so much emotion swimming in those eyes of his, though. It’s only for a second, but you can see all
of his worry and pain and fear written across his face. It hits you like a punch to the gut. But it’s gone as soon as it comes and Germany
regains his calm demeanor.
“Alright. Here, I vill help you
up,” he says, standing and offering you both of his hands. You take them and allow him to hoist you to
your feet. You make sure to give his
hands a squeeze before letting go.
“Well then. What was wrong with Italy?” you ask, trying
to lighten the mood.
Germany sighs and grimaces. “It vas nozink. Spain unt Romano vere in a fight unt it upset
him.”
You giggle a little. “That sounds just like him. I never did find Japan, though,” you tell
him.
“Oh, he vas vis Italy. Zey all vent outsite,” he says, pointing to a
set of French doors that appear to lead to a garden or a patio.
“Oohh, okay. That explains why Russia couldn’t find them,”
you say, mostly to yourself.
“Vhy vere you vis Russia,
anyvay?” Germany asks and you sense a scolding coming on.
“It wasn’t on purpose,
really. I was looking for Japan and he
asked me if I wanted help, so he helped look around and we couldn’t find him so
he offered to walk around with me until I could find one of you guys. It was nothing. Belarus just overreacted,” you tell him
firmly.
“Ja, ja, but I tolt you zat Russia is dangerous! He koult hav killet you before I got ofer to
you unt zen vere voult ve be?”
“I really don’t think he’s as
bad as you guys make him out to be.
Yeah, he can be a little scary and yeah, he doesn’t have the best social
skills, but I think he’s just lonely.
One of the first things he said is that he wanted to be friends and he
was nothing but nice to me the whole time we talked. You guys need to cut him a little more
slack.”
“(y/n), zere is somesink not
right about him. He is krazy or
somesink. I do not like it. I do not vant you getting hurt,” Germany
tells you, blushing furiously but not averting his gaze. You finally understand that he’s jut angry
because he’s worried and you smile.
You walk forward and wrap your
arms around him, resting your head on his chest. “Thank you for worrying about me, Germany,
“you murmur into his jacket. “I’ll be
careful, I promise.”
Germany awkwardly pats your back
and you pull away, hoping you didn’t embarrass him too badly. “U-um.
Woult you like to dance?” Germany asks you after a few moments of
awkward silence.
“Sure,” you respond happily as
you allow him to lead you onto the dance floor.
Austria has inevitably found his
way to the piano and is currently playing all of the music. He has just started up a waltz as you and
Germany step onto the floor. It’s a very
simple version of the waltz, but it’s fun and sweet and you get to be near
Germany, so it’s perfect in your book.
He looks embarrassed and you realize once again how adorable he is when
he’s embarrassed.
“S-so… U-um…
I-I haf somesink to tell you,” Germany stammers after a while.
You’re a little surprised, and
you look up at him. “Alright,” you say
slowly, not sure what to think.
“I just vantet to say,” he begins,
but he gets cut off by someone almost barreling the two of you over. He pulls you close to him and manages to get
the two of you out of the way of whoever it is that is running by.
“America!” a British accented
voice says sharply. “You are an adult,
so behave like one!”
You look up to see two men, one
with light brown or sandy blonde hair and glasses, and the other with blonde
hair and extremely thick eyebrows standing and talking to each other. The one with the glasses is laughing
obnoxiously and the one with the eyebrows is apparently scolding him. After a moment, the one with the thick
eyebrows turns to you and Germany and says,” I apologize for America’s childish
behaviour. Please, do carry on.”
You notice that he and Germany
are glaring at each other and the tension is once again tangible. “Be more kareful next time, America,” Germany
says without taking his eyes away from the other man’s green ones.
“Ahahahahaha! I’m always careful because I’m the hero!” the
man with the glasses laughs, tilting his head back and putting his hands on his
hips to do so.
As the men are having their
staring match, you feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn to see who touched
you. You find yourself looking into the
sapphire eyes of France, the man who greeted you and Germany at the door
earlier. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” he says suavely, taking your hand and
bowing over it to kiss it. Germany
redirects his glare to France. “May I
ask for the honor of a dance with a belle
fille such as yourself?”
“O-oh!” you exclaim, not sure
how to react.
“You bloody frog! Leave the young lady alone! I swear, you’re not a gentleman at all!” the
man with the thick eyebrows exclaims angrily.
“Onhonhonhon!” France
chuckles. “I am doing nothing
wrong. I just asked a beautiful lady to
dance while you all are arguing. I am
sure that a dance would be much more enjoyable for her.”
“Yes, yes. And you have no ulterior motives, of
course. Right. Leave the lady be. She seemed to be dancing with Germany
anyway. I wouldn’t trust her,” the
British man retorts, waving his hand dismissively in your direction.
“Hey! Zat vas unkallet for!” Germany snaps, glaring
down at him again.
“U-um, I don’t mind,” you say
quietly, hoping to end the argument but a little afraid to get involved.
All four men turn to look at
you. “Woah. Dudes, she’s hot!” America exclaims, letting
out a low whistle.
“Shut up, America!” the Brit
scolds him.
“What? I was just sayin’, England,” he says,
sounding innocent.
“It’s rude. Learn some manners, the both of you,” England
says with more than a little irritation.
“You are all beink rute. Just leafe us be,” Germany tells them,
crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“It’s fine, Germany. It’s just one dance,” you say, laying a hand
lightly on his arm before turning to face France. “I would love to dance with you, sir.”
“Well then, shall we?” he
chuckles, offering you his arm. You take
it and allow him to lead you onto the dance floor. He places a gentle hand on your waist, not
too high and not too low, and holds your opposite hand in his other hand. You start out a little nervous, but he is an
excellent dancer and he manages to make up for your minimal knowledge of
ballroom dancing. “So, you are Germany’s
girl, non?” he asks, smiling down at
you knowingly.
You feel your cheeks redden, but
you nod and say,” I guess so.”
“Onhonhon! He is a shy one, that Germany. I am glad he finally found someone to love
instead of just mothering Italy for the rest of his life,” France chuckles, his
sapphire eyes sparkling. “And you. Do you love Germany?”
“I-I… Well…
U-um… I-I… Yeah…,” you stammer, looking away from France
in embarrassment. “Is it that obvious?”
“Hm, maybe not to everyone, but
I am an expert on these things,” France tells you with a playful wink. “There is something in the way that you two
act together that makes my heart flutter with joy. I wish you both happiness together.”
“T-thank you, Mr. France,” you
tell him, surprised. He’s so much nicer
than everyone makes him out to be and he hasn’t acted perverted at all.
“Call me France, chérie,” France chuckles, releasing you
as the song ends. “I hope to be able to
see you again soon. Feel free to come by
whenever you like.” He kisses your hand
once more and disappears into the crowd again.
“Hello, sunflower. May I be having dance as well?” you hear
Russia say from behind you.
“Oh, of course,” you smile as
you turn to face him.
“I am sorry about my sister,” he
tells you as you dance. “I did not
realize that she would be being angry with you.”
“It’s alright. No harm was done and she was only trying to
protect you. I’ll just be more careful
next time,” you respond, trying not to think about there being a next time and
knowing your danger level has increased by being so close to him.
“Are we… Are we still being friends, then?” Russia
asks you a little nervously. You notice
that he won’t make eye contact with you.
“Of course! Don’t be silly,” you tell him, squeezing his
hand.
“Oh! That is good, da?” he responds, smiling brightly.
“Haha! It is,” you giggle. Over Russia’s shoulder, you see an irritated
Hungary dancing with a somewhat nervous-looking Prussia and you smile to
yourself. You think Prussia has a crush
on Hungary, but you know she doesn’t return it and you feel bad for him, even
though he is rather obnoxious. And then
you see Belarus standing with her arms crossed at the edge of the dance floor,
glaring daggers at you. “U-um, Mr.
Russia, I think your sister wants to talk to you,” you tell him nervously.
He glances over at her and his
smile transforms into a mask of fear. “I
think I am going to be going now, sunflower.
I will be finding you later,” Russia says quickly, not looking at you as
he releases you and runs off.
You look around for Germany and,
not finding him, decide to make your way out into the garden. At least there are less people there and
hopefully Belarus won’t think to look for you outside. The air is cool but pleasant and you notice
that France has a beautiful array of roses, your favorite flower, so you walk
around and enjoy them. The moonlight is
bright enough that you can see everything clearly, but it is all cast in a
mystical silver light. You are bending
down to inhale the fragrance of a particularly large red rose when you hear the
crunch of feet on the gravel path and you glance up.
“Hallo,” Germany says quietly as you straighten up.
“Hallo,” you respond with a soft smile.
“So, how has your efenink been?”
he asks you a little awkwardly.
“It was fine. I think I made some new friends,” you reply
with amusement. “How about yours?”
“It vas alright,” he says,
looking away from you. “It voult haf
been better if I koult haf shpent more of it vis you, zough.”
“Well, I’m all yours now. I’ve danced with everyone who has asked me
and I’m done now. No one else can cut
in,” you tell him as you go over to him and wrap your arms around him. “So, where were we? I believe you said you had something you
wanted to talk to me about.”
“Oh yes, zat,” he says quietly
as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him, burying his
face in your hair. “Vell, please do not
laugh at me unt I kompletely untershtant if you do not agree vis me, so do not
feel like you haf to say somesink to shpare my feelinks. Okay?”
“Of course,” you assure him,
thinking that this could go one of two ways and feeling your stomach doing
flips at the thought of both.
He nods and takes a deep,
fortifying breath. “Alright. Vell, (y/n), I-I haf felt somesink special
for you efer since ve fount you on zat street unt I haf recently begun to fint
a name for zat feelink. I haf realized
zat you are more important to me zan anysink else. Ich
liebe dich, Mädchen. Du bist
mein Schatz,” he murmurs and you feel
your heart skip a beat.
It
takes you a moment to find your words, but when you do, you pull away from
Germany just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. He looks tense and concerned, but you can
tell he’s also determined to be tough, not matter what you tell him. “I love you too, Germany,” you whisper,
gazing up at him with a smile.
It
seems to take a few seconds for your words to register with him, but when they
do, he rewards you with a small, sweet smile.
“I am so glat,” he breathes, almost a sigh of relief. You giggle and continue to look up at him and
before you realize what’s happening, he’s leaned in and closed the last of the
distance between the two of you.
You
feel the gentle pressure of his lips on yours and they’re warm and soft and
welcoming. You melt into the kiss and
allow your body to react without your thinking about it. You feel him run his fingers gently through
your hair and your wrap your arms around his neck. It only lasts a few moments, but it is full
of all the sweetness and love you both have been holding back all this time.
When
you pull away, Germany gazes down at you with blue eyes full of emotion and
tenderness. He rubs a strand of your
hair between two of his fingers. “Zank
you,” he tells you softly.
“For
what?” you ask him a little dreamily.
“For
komink to ziz vorlt. Unt for shtayink in
it. You make eferysink seem much more
beautiful,” he explains, smiling down at you again.
You
smile and blush as you bury your face in his chest. “I love you,” you tell him.
“I
lofe you, too, Schatz,” he chuckles
in response, kissing the top of your head and holding you closer.
Japan
and France have been standing off to the side, near the doorway, watching you
two for some minutes now. Japan is
embarrassed, but pleased that his observations led him to the correct
conclusion. He is also thinking of ways
to discreetly tease the two of you.
France is smiling happily and watching the two of you interact and
feeling that familiar ache in his chest that he gets when he thinks about Her. He is happy to watch young couples falling in
love, but it makes him realize over and over that he will never find someone
like Her again. In the meantime, the
party goes on well into the night and almost everyone is oblivious to the happy
changes in your life.
