Anyway, my insanity aside, I probably need to explain a little about this installment. I am going to apologize in advance if I've written this incorrectly. My knowledge about guns is largely limited to what my dad and brother know (which is admittedly a considerable amount) and what I've seen while playing Return to Castle Wolfenstein. So, not much. I played it fairly safe and I only used the Luger--the pistol you see Germany carrying in Axis Powers--and the Mauser which is one of my favorite guns from Wolfenstein. Lugers are German pistols and Mausers are German rifles. I tried to get my shooting stances right, but if it's wrong I'm really sorry. I have issues with my shoulders and I can't shoot anything of a higher caliber than a .22, and I've only shot a .22 once. My dad and brother are more into weaponry, especially foreign. My dad prefers Russian guns and my brother is more into Japanese samurai/ninja weaponry. I'm the one who likes Germans, but my brother does know a little about guns and I had him clarify on things I wasn't sure about, but we could have been wrong... I just don't like it when I'm inaccurate...
Oh, and the title is a joke my brother and I have because of Wolfenstein. The first gun you pick up off of the bodies of the Nazis you shoot is a Luger, but the game is seriously biased in favor of the U.S., so the American guns are super powerful and the Luger is crappy, even though it's a pretty good gun in real life, so instead of calling each other "losers" when we insult each other (as is normal with siblings), we call each other "Lugers." I just kind of had to include that... Anyway, enjoy! You'll probably hate me when you're done! Catch you reader-sans later~! (^_-)
- Turtle-chan
“(y/n),” you hear as you are walking inside
after training.
You turn around. “Hm?” you respond, looking up to see Germany
watching you intently.
“Later today, I voult like to
teach you to shoot a gun. Ve kan go to
Svitzerlant’s place to do it if ve neet to, but I sink zat fielt voult vork
just fine, too,” he says and he seems a little nervous, as he always does when
he asks you to do things with him.
“Sure,” you respond with a sweet
smile. “I’d like to learn!”
“Z-zat is goot,” Germany says,
looking relieved. You giggle to yourself
a little at his silliness. He should
know by now that you’ll always make time for him if he’s making time for you,
but that’s part of what makes him so darn cute.
“I’ll see you later on,
then. Just come and get me when you’re
ready,” you tell him as you go inside to shower off.
~~~
You’re laying on your bed
reading manga when you hear a knock on your bedroom door. “Yes?” you call out, not looking up from the
comic.
You hear the door open and
finish the speech bubble you’re on before looking up to see Germany standing in
the doorway. “Voult it be alright to go
shootink now?” he asks a little nervously, shifting his weight on his feet.
“Sure!” you respond, standing,
marking your page, and putting the manga on the dresser as you go to put your
shoes on. When you turn around, you see
Germany examining the manga from the page you marked. His cheeks are slightly pink and you wonder
why in the split second before you remember that the page you stopped on was
right next to a fairly intense kissing scene that took up most of the second
page. Now you’re blushing too as you
take the manga from his large hands and put it back on the dresser. “L-let’s go now.”
“J-ja,” he says, clearing his throat gruffly and holding the door
open for you to walk out.
You head down the stairs and to
the front door, yelling up the stairs to Italy and Japan as you go,” Germany
and I are heading out for some training!
We’ll be back later!”
You hear Italy shout an
“OKAAAYYYY~!” back and you think you may have imagined a quiet “Hai” from Japan. Giggling to yourself, you open the door and
step outside.
“I vill get zee guns. Vait here,” Germany tells you, moving off in
the direction of his little armory on the back side of the house. It’s actually a shed, but he’s repurposed it
and it’s where all of the boys keep their weapons… And Italy’s white flags… If Germany doesn’t throw them out…
You stand out in the afternoon
sunshine while you wait, enjoying the first hints of spring. It’s a little cooler than you’d like, still,
but you don’t have to be bundled up constantly when you’re outside now. The animals are starting to come out of
hibernation, so birdsong is starting to fill the air again. There’s a slight breeze coming over the hill
and it blows your hair around your face.
It’s not long before you see Germany come around the corner of the house
with several lethal-looking weapons. You
walk over to meet him and together the two of you make your way over to the
field he uses as his shooting range.
On the back end of the field is
a set of life-sized targets of five men…
Or is that one a woman? Let’s
just go with men. There is a wooden
table on the other end of the field and Germany lays out all of the guns on the
table in order of size. When he’s done,
he straightens and uses one hand to brush some stray hairs back while turning
his piercing blue eyes to you.
“Alright. I vill shtart out vis zee small ones unt if
you kan get zee hang of zose, zen I might let you mofe up to zee bigger ones,”
he tells you. You nod in response and
his hand hovers over the table for a moment before picking up a gun that you
are surprisingly familiar with. It’s his
favorite Luger. You smile to yourself a
bit. “I vill show you how to shoot it
unt zen you vill try.”
You watch as he lifts the gun in
his right hand and pulls back the loading mechanism with his thumb. He seems to take a breath in and as he
exhales, he fires. The shot hits its
target and you see a hole right in the center of the chest of one of the
targets—the one with long blonde hair and a strange blue and red outfit. You’re both pleased at his skill and a little
uneasy. War isn’t really your thing, but
you appreciate knowing that he can protect himself. Germany turns his head and looks over at you,
his brow creased with concentration. You
notice that he pulls the loading mechanism back again as soon as he’s
done. It must be a habit.
“So, now you try,” he says,
motioning you over toward him and keeping the pistol’s barrel pointed down the
range and away from the two of you. You
come to stand in front of him and he places the Luger in your hand. “Use two hants so zat you haf better
kontrol.” You do as he says and grip the
pistol with both hands, holding it out in front of you. It does feel like it’s supported better. “Now, breathe in unt aim at one of zee
targets.” You set your sights on the
target of a man with glasses and a ridiculous cowlick who appears to be
laughing. He also wears a bomber
jacket. You pick him because he looks obnoxious. “Okay, just exhale unt shoot.”
And you do. But you didn’t expect the kick, so the shot
goes wide. You end up hitting the target
in the elbow instead of the body.
“A-ah!” you exclaim, flinching back into Germany.
“It is fine. You dit a goot job for your first time,” he
reassures you, sliding his big, comforting hands down to squeeze your
biceps. “Kan you try it again?”
“Yeah. Sorry, it startled me. I didn’t realize it would move,” you respond,
looking down at the little pistol in your hands.
“Ah. I see.
Just make sure zat you brace your arms zis time. You vere too loose before. Does zat make sense?”
You nod and raise your arms
again, using your right hand to pull back the loading mechanism before bringing
it back down to rest on the handle. You
take a deep, steadying breath in and aim for the target’s chest, a little lower
than you want to hit. Bracing your
elbows, you release the breath and pull the trigger. BANG!!!
You peer down the range and look
at the target. There’s a nice neat hole
in its stomach. You grin at your
progress. “Not bat,” Germany says from
behind you. He sounds pleased. “Vis some praktice, you koult be dangerous.”
You look up at him and see that
he’s almost smiling, which is pretty impressive. One corner of his mouth is turned upward and
his eyes are sparkling. You hadn’t quite
registered how close the two of you are, but you have no complaints about
it. Usually, Germany is sort of shy
about physical contact, so it’s just nice to be so close to him. You snap yourself out of it, though. You need to practice. “Well, let’s see how dangerous I can get,
then,” you giggle, loading the next bullet.
After about an hour or so of
practice with the Luger, Germany is pleased with your progress and he decides
he wants to see how you do with a rifle.
He picks up his Mauser and loads a shell into it. “Okay, so zis has a lot more power zan zee
Luger. Vatch unt see how I hantle it,”
he tells you.
You watch him carefully as he
slips into the proper stance, standing sideways from the targets and bracing
the butt of the gun against his right shoulder and holding it near the barrel
with his left hand. The index finger of
his right hand rests on the trigger. He
aims as he inhales and fires as he exhales, like he did earlier. The noise from the gun is momentarily
deafening and in the time it takes for your ears to stop hearing the shot, he
already has the rifle reloaded. You look
over at the target, the same one from earlier, and notice a huge hole in the
forehead. You raise your eyebrows and
let out a low whistle as you look over at Germany. “Well then,” is all you manage to say.
“Are you reaty to try it?” he
asks teasingly.
“Sure,” you respond a little
uncertainly. You don’t want to let
Germany down, though, and you feel compelled to train yourself as much as you
can. You feel like the Germanic family
is always packing guns—or in Hungary’s case, a frying pan—so it seems prudent
to know how to use guns effectively in case something were to happen. You don’t want to be the useless one.
“Here, shtant like zis,” Germany
says, taking your shoulders and turning you into the right position. Then, he places the Mauser in your hands and
braces the butt of the gun against the shoulder of your dominant arm. He has you grip the wood below the barrel
with the other hand. The gun is heavier
than you expected and the position is uncomfortable. You realize that this will be harder than the
pistol, especially since your muscles are already tired from shooting the
Luger.
“How bad is the kick,
comparatively?” you ask him, a little nervous.
“Hm… Vell, I voult not be surpriset if you haf a
brusiet shoulter tomorrow,” he admits.
“You just neet to make sure to holt zee butt tightly against your
shoulter. Here, I vill help.” Germany comes to stand behind you, bending
down to your level and covering your small, dainty hands with his large
ones. He pulls you close against him and
presses the gun firmly to your shoulder.
“Alright. Just breathe unt aim.”
You take your breath in and
Germay helps you aim for the target’s head.
You smoothly pull the trigger as you exhale and the gun bucks back a
little in your hands, but not as much as you had expected. You look down the range at the target and see
that there is a nice, clean hole in the forehead, just like on Germany’s
target.
“Ah! I did it!” you exclaim, filled with a
childish sort of joy.
Germany chuckles warmly next to
your ear. “Goot job, Mädchen,” he murmurs.
You notice that your cheeks are touching and you feel
yourself blush. His cheek is cool and
smooth. And his chest is so firm and
comforting. You feel your heart rate
pick up. “Yeah…,” you respond, slowly
turning your head to look at him. He’s
looking at you, too.
You let your eyes roam his face, taking in every familiar
feature for the thousandth time. The
lines on his forehead from all the worrying he does. His eyes that look just like the sky on a
cloudless day. His strong cheekbones that
look like they could cut someone, a thought that always makes you chuckle. His handsome square jaw line that he always
makes sure to shave clean, ever the military man. His broad lips, dry and slightly chapped from
all the time spent out in the elements.
Those lips that rarely ever smile, but when they do it’s like the sun
coming out after a long period of rain.
You have caught yourself wondering lately how it would feel to kiss
those lips. If they would be rough or
gentle with you. If they would fit with
yours perfectly or if it would be like trying to fit pieces of two different
puzzles together. And then you notice
that a couple of hairs have fallen down over Germany’s forehead. You slip your hand out from under Germany’s
on the barrel of the Mauser and reach up to brush the hairs back. He watches you as you do so, his blue eyes soft. You feel like you’re going to melt under that
gaze; it’s so tender that your knees go weak.
As you lower your hand, you notice Germany’s eyes slipping lower and you
find yourself unable to look away from his lips again. You want to kiss him so badly that it hurts,
but you’re worried about embarrassing him or making him uncomfortable. You’ve decided to risk it and you’re about to
lean in and close the last bit of distance between the two of you when you hear
something.
“Germany-san, (y/n)-san, it is time for dinner. Italy-kun has prepared pasta,” Japan says
quietly from the grass behind the two of you.
You both turn and look at Japan and you feel your cheeks
turning red. “Alright! Thanks for telling us,” you respond a little
too cheerfully. Your voice seems too
loud in the quiet air. “We’ll come in as
soon as we gather up all of the guns.”
Japan nods and walks back to the house and you slip away
from Germany. He takes the Mauser from
your hands and sets to work gathering up his guns. You step a little away from him and turn to
face away. You cover your face with your
hands and let out a shuddering breath, feeling how hot your cheeks are. You’re still shaking with the pent up
electricity from that moment and you’re not sure if you’re upset with Japan for
ruining the moment or not.
“Are you reaty, Mädchen?”
Germany asks you.
You look up to see him standing right behind you with the
guns strapped across his chest, tucked into the waistband of his pants, and in
his hands. “Yep,” you respond, smiling
up at him and hoping he doesn’t notice how red your face is.
He nods and the two of you start walking back up toward
the house. You notice that you have been
keeping more distance than usual in between the two of you while walking
back. You can’t even make eye contact
with him and you’re worried that he’s upset, but you don’t want to say anything
about it because it’s so embarrassing.
As you step into the yard, you begin to head for the house and Germany
heads to the armory, but he stops after a few steps. “Ve vill vork on zis some more later. You dit fery vell,” he tells you. Coming from Germany, that’s a high compliment
and you smile to yourself as he rounds the corner of the house.
“Ve~! (y/n)!”
Italy exclaims, tackling as you enter the house.
“Hi, Italy,” you laugh, trying to drag him with you to
the sink so that you can wash the gunpowder and dirt off of your hands.
“So, how was your date with Germany?” he asks, opening
one brown eye to watch your reaction.
Your mind immediately flashes back on the feel of Germany
holding you to help shoot the Mauser and your cheeks flush. “It wasn’t a date! It was training,” you tell Italy, trying to
avoid his gaze.
“What? Did he
finally kiss you?!” Italy asks excitedly, holding you at an arm’s length.
“Vhat?” you hear an incredulous German voice ask. Germany had come into the house right in the
middle of your conversation with Italy.
You and Italy both turn to look at him and Italy runs
over to him, releasing you. You send him
an apologetic glance as he turns confused blue eyes on you. “Germany~!
Good job! I knew you could do
it!” Italy congratulates him, wrapping his arms around Germany’s muscular neck.
“Do vhat? Vhat dit
I do?” he asks, trying to push Italy away.
“You finally kissed, (y/n), right?” Italy grins.
You watch with some amusement but mostly embarrassment as
Germany’s eyes widen with shock as he registers what Italy said and then his
face turns pink. “N-nein!” he sputters, turning to the sink to wash his hands. “Shtop sinking of such silly sings. If you haf time to daydream, zen you haf time
for more trainink!” he declares.
“U-um, anyway, I heard you made pasta, Italy,” you say,
trying to change the subject to something safer. You’re a little disappointed that Germany
denied it so quickly, but you had expected as much from him.
“PAAAAAASSSSSSTTTTTTAAAAAA~!” Italy exclaims, running
over to the pots on the stove.
Apparently he had forgotten about it in his excitement.
Throughout dinner, you and Germany do not speak to each
other, but you keep glancing over at him and you catch him looking at you
several times as well, but every time you make eye contact you end up blushing
and looking away from each other. Italy
chatters on as usual throughout the meal, and Japan is almost silent, also as
usual. Little do you suspect that Japan
is actually smirking on the inside as he watches the embarrassed couple in
front of him. He initially regretted
interrupting your intimate moment, but now he realizes that it was alright
after all because of the sheer comic value!
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