Konichiwa! I just finished typing up the next part of my fanfiction and I haven't even read back over it yet, so I hope it doesn't completely suck. I'm pretty sure there are more errors in this one than usual, but I'll go back and fix them later. Gomenasai. I had to do some researching for this one which I will share with you guys as soon as possible. Basically, I've been writing Germany's flirting wrong the whole time. I've been writing him like an American guy. A very awkward American guy, but still American. Germans do things completely different. But that's another post for another night. I'm going to post this and then finally get some sleep! I hope you guys enjoy and I'll catch you later!
- Turtle-chan
The day can’t pass quickly
enough! You’ve been up since the wee
hours of the morning, your stomach twisting in nervous, excited knots. You’re going on a date with Germany today,
the first date in fact, and you just don’t know what to do with yourself. Germany, Italy, and Japan have a world
meeting to attend during the day, so you have the house to yourself. Before they left, though, Germany gave you a
strict warning to keep all the doors locked and to stay inside no matter
what. You suppose he thinks that one of
the other countries will try to pull some sort of trick while he’s away, but
you personally doubt that any of the countries other than the Allies know about
your existence.
Nevertheless, you follow
Germany’s order because it’s better to be safe than sorry. Besides, you decide that you can put your
nervous energy to good use by cleaning the house. Japan appears to value neatness, but Italy just
leaves things everywhere which seems to annoy Germany to no end. You giggle at the memory of the large man
following Italy around as he cooks, cleaning up all of the messes just to find
that there are new ones to take their places.
You click the radio on, but
there’s nothing good on the airways, so you turn it back off again and settle
for the music playing in your head. It
seems like the only kinds of songs you can think of right now are love songs. It’s strange since you used to hate sappy
stuff like that, even when you’ve been in relationships with guys from your
world. You just thought that love was
overrated and you dated the boys because you felt like it was a logical
decision to make. You had been romantic
as a child, as many young girls are, always dreaming of falling in love and
raising a family, but that had died away as you got older. You learned that romance is just a pretty
word to cover up an ugly desire. All of
the boys you’ve dated just wanted you for your body and you were well aware of
it. You let them have what they want, to
a certain point. You have morals. It’s just that you didn’t really care. You felt like it didn’t matter what happened
to you because it would be the same with any guy, but now you feel embarrassed
about it and remembering things like that makes you feel sick to your
stomach. You don’t want Germany to know
about that part of your past, but then you also feel like he wouldn’t hate you
for it. Germany makes you think of a lot
of things you never thought you would.
You go from room to room,
dusting and sweeping, and vacuuming. You
feel a little weird about going into the guys’ rooms, but you know that Italy’s
won’t get clean if you don’t do it yourself and you think that the other two
would appreciate it. Italy’s room is
about as frightening as you had anticipated it would be. He has clothes and blankets and materials for
making white flags strewn all over the floor.
You actually can’t even see the floor because of all the clutter. You shudder to yourself a little and then
dive in. All of the clothes you assume
are dirty and you throw them in a heap into the hallway to wash when you
finish. The blankets you fold, stacking
them neatly on the trunk at the foot of Italy’s bed. As for the white flags, you gather up the
pieces and prop the sticks against the wall out of the way and then you fold up
the white fabric and place it on the floor by the sticks. Then, you go and dust all of the furniture
and sweep the wooden floor, gathering up all of the debris into a dustpan. You strip the sheets off of Italy’s bed and
add them to the stack of laundry in the hallway.
You move on to Japan’s room, but
you stop outside of the door, realizing that he might be upset by your
intrusion. He has strong feelings about
his personal space. You also aren’t sure
how to properly wash his futon. As you
move on to the next room, you stop into yours to retrieve your bed sheets and
add them to the pile. You’re reluctant
to enter Germany’s room, but you’re already planning on washing bed sheets, so
you go in to get them, resolved to not touch anything else. As you enter, you can’t help but notice that
his room is very simple and neat, just as you’d expect from Germany. It’s obvious that functionality is valued
over comfort. The only items of
furniture in the room are a bed and a dresser and the rest of the room is
bare. You go and take the sheets off of
Germany’s bed, which is neatly and crisply made, and go to leave the room. As you’re walking out, you can’t help but
notice that the sheets smell like Germany and it comforts you. It’s a strong, masculine scent of soap and
sweat and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Realizing that your thoughts are probably a
little creepy, you gather up the pile of laundry and carefully make your way
down the stairs and into the laundry room.
You decide to wash the sheets first so that you can get the beds made
before the men get home. After setting
the timer, you move on to the next task.
You decide to try baking
something for the boys and you’re surprised to find all of the ingredients
necessary for making chocolate cake. Perfect.
You pull all the ingredients you need out of the cabinet and start
preheating the oven as you set a small pot of water on to boil. First come the dry ingredients: flour, sugar,
cocoa powder, etcetera. You whisk them
all together thoroughly and then start adding the wet ingredients: milk. Eggs,
vanilla extract, etcetera. You whisk
them in with the dry ingredients vigorously until you have a somewhat thick
batter. Then, you carefully pour the
boiling water in and whisk as quickly as you can for two minutes. With the batter ready, you get on a chair and
pull down two cake pans and grease the inside with butter and flour to prevent
the cake from sticking. You split the
batter between the two pans and then slide them into the oven, setting the
timer.
Around the time you finish
cleaning up from baking, you hear the washing machine timer go off and you go
to put the bed sheets in the drier and Italy’s clothes into the washer. Then, you go back to cleaning the
kitchen. It doesn’t take long to make
sure everything is spotless and you wonder briefly what you’re going to do
next, but then the oven timer goes off and you pull the cakes out. When you test them with a toothpick, it comes
out clean so you know they are ready.
You take the cake out of the pans and place it on a cooling rack so that
you’ll be able to ice them more quickly.
While you wait for the cake to cool and the laundry to finish, you sit at
the kitchen table and look outside.
It’s a beautiful, sunny day and
the weather is warm and almost perfect.
You smile to yourself in excitement, wondering what Germany has planned
for the date. You’ve never been this
excited for a date before. It’s a little
strange for you, but you don’t mind it so much.
You just hope you don’t get all awkward and clam up when you’re with
Germany. That would be embarrassing.
At some point during your
musing, the timer on the dryer sounds and you go to rotate the laundry
again. You take the sheets up and make
the beds. You do Italy’s first, knowing
it won’t last long but admiring how nice his room looks after a little
cleaning. Then, you do your room quickly
but neatly. Last is Germany and you take
your time with his. You want to make
sure it’s as perfect as he left it. You
make sure to pull the sheets taut and to smooth out all of the wrinkles. When you’re satisfied with your work, you go
back downstairs and make icing for the cake.
It just takes whipping butter, powdered sugar, cocoa powder, milk, and
vanilla extract together and you could almost do it in your sleep by now. The cakes are cool enough to ice, so you set
the two pieces out as well as a cake stand, which you’re surprised Germany even
owns, and you start icing. You hear the
boys coming up the walkway as you finish cleaning up and you smile. Soon.
Italy is the first one inside
and as soon as he hits the doorway he says,” Vee~! I smell cake!”
Japan follows him inside and
says nothing, as usual. Germany is the last
one in and he walks over to the table where the cake is and examines it. “Dit you make zis, (y/n)?” he asks you.
You nod. “I did.
Sorry I did it without asking first.
It’s just been a while since I’ve baked anything and I felt like making
a cake. I’m sure you guys will be able
to eat it, though,” you respond, grinning at Italy.
He nods enthusiastically and you
laugh. Germany nods stiffly and says,” I
vill haf to try some, zen.”
You smile up at him and turn
back to washing the dishes you used for making the cake and icing. The water is cold and you worry a little that
your hands will be rough and chapped.
You don’t expect anything to happen.
It’s just a casual date, after all.
It probably doesn’t mean anything really, but you decide to make sure to
put lotion on after you’re done anyway.
“You appear to be lively today,
(y/n)-san,” Japan says quietly from somewhere behind you. You hadn’t realized he was still in the room,
but you’ve gotten used to it.
“Do I?” you reply, feeling yourself
smiling again.
“Vee~! She has a date today, Japan, so she should be
excited!” Italy tells Japan loudly and cheerfully. You hadn’t realized he was still in the room
either.
You giggle to yourself and put
the dried dishes in a stack on the counter as you go to get a chair. As you walk past him, you notice Japan
watching you intently. You wonder why he
does that so often. It’s a little discomfiting.
You set the chair down and stand
in it to put all of the dishes back in their places. You shut the cabinet doors and climb back
down carefully. As you go to take the
chair back to the table, a large hand lifts it and you back up. Germany carries the chair with one hand and
sets it down on the floor before turning back and walking in the direction of
his office. “Thanks,” you say as he
reaches the doorway. He passes through
and you don’t know if he heard you, but you decide to leave it be.
“Vee~! (y/n)!
Come with me!” Italy says, frolicking his way up the stairs. You follow him and when he reaches the top he
calls down,” You come, too, Japan~!”
Italy leads you to his bedroom
and sits you down on the bed. Japan
comes in a few moments later. Italy
looks excited and you’re a little confused.
“We’re going to help you get ready for your date!” Italy exclaims. Japan nods solemnly from beside him.
“I-it’s fine. You guys really don’t have to…” you tell
them, a little afraid of what Italy might have planned.
“We want to help! It’ll be fun!” he responds and you know it’s
useless to argue.
You glance out the window and notice how late
in the afternoon it is. The sun will be setting soon. While you aren’t paying attention, Italy
starts to brush your hair and it startles you.
You manage to hold still as he yanks out the tangles and starts to style
it. It only takes a few minutes and
you’re surprised at how deft he is. When
he finishes, he turns to Japan and says,” Your turn~! I’m going to go check on Germany,” and then
leaves.
Japan leads you into his room
which is decorated traditionally and has neat little piles of manga on a
bookshelf against the wall. He kneels on
the floor and you do as well. He digs
around in a drawer for a few moments before pulling something out. It’s makeup, which you haven’t worn since you
were in your own world. He holds the
makeup out to you and simply says,” Here.”
“Thank you,” you tell him gratefully as you take the makeup
out of his hands, being careful not to touch him. He nods and stands. You stand as well and go to your room.
You set all of the makeup out on
the dresser and look into the mirror.
You don’t look bad without makeup by any means, but just a little makeup
makes a huge difference. Without makeup,
you’re pretty, but with makeup, you’re beautiful. It’s a pretty amazing transformation,
actually. So before you put any makeup
on, you go over to the bathroom and wash your face. When you finish, you head back to your room
and get started.
You look at the array of makeup,
wondering how on earth the guys found it and how awkward it was for them to get
it. You smile to yourself a little at
the thought of Italy and Japan looking at makeup. Italy would be fascinated by all of the
colors and Japan would be considering everything very seriously. You’re basically happy with what they picked
out. You generally wear brown eyeliner
and mascara, but black works just as well.
And a nice purple looks good with almost any eye color if you use it
correctly. Pleased with what you have to
work with, you get started. You
carefully draw a thin black line on your upper and lower lashlines and then
move on to the eyeshadow, making sure to keep it light. When you’re done, you swipe on some mascara
and take a look at yourself. As
expected, you look gorgeous and you see for the first time what Italy has done
with your hair. He has it parted a
little off center and has twisted a portion of the hair in front of your ear on
one side back and pinned it with a little flower clip. It’s pretty and elegant and it shows off your
long hair, which you really like.
The sun is setting now, so you
decide to change your clothes. You
aren’t sure what Germany has planned, so you don’t really know what to
wear. You pretty much don’t have
anything but clothes to work out in and the clothes you were wearing when you
came to this world, so you decide to wear those since they are nicer than the
workout clothes. You squeeze yourself
into the black skinny jeans and then slip on the red scoop-neck shirt. You realize that it shows a lot more cleavage
than all of the clothes you’ve worn since you have been living with the Axis
Powers and you feel a little self-conscious, but you wear it anyway.
“(y/n)~!” Italy calls from the
bottom of the steps.
You run out into the hall and
make your way quickly down the stairs after slipping on your shoes, a pair of
grey flats. “I’m coming, Italy!” you
call out as you move.
At the bottom of the stairs is a
satisfied Italy and an uncomfortable-looking Germany. He’s wearing a pair of jeans tucked into
combat boots, a tight black shirt, and a leather jacket over it. It’s the first time you’ve seen him wearing
anything but a military uniform and you have to admit that he looks hot. Well, he always looks hot, but this is a
different kind of hot.
You realize that you’ve been
staring at him for too long and you look away.
Italy giggles and says,” You look pretty, (y/n)~! Doesn’t she, Germany?”
“J-ja,” Germany stutters, glancing away from you. You realize he’s been staring the whole time.
You blush and stare at your
feet, playing with your fingers. “Well! Go on!” Italy says, shooing the two of you
closer to each other and toward the door.
Germany quickly moves to hold
the door open for you and you thank him, stepping outside. The air has cooled a little, but it feels
pleasant. Germany follows you out and
you see Italy waving cheerfully from the window with Japan standing behind him. You smile and wave back before turning to
Germany. “So, where to?” you ask him.
He glances down at you and says,”
Do you like coffee?” You nod in
response. “Zis vay, zen.”
You smile up at him and walk
beside him. You use all of the tricks
you’ve learned from past experience to make a guy feel more comfortable. You keep your hands loosely at your sides and
away from your legs in case he wants to hold them but doesn’t want to freak you
out by brushing against your thigh, stuff like that. He, on the other hand, keeps his hands buried
in the pockets of his jacket. You don’t
talk as you walk, but you notice Germany keeps glancing at you. You wonder if he feels awkward. You just don’t know how to react around him.
Before you know it, Germany
comes to a stop in front of a little coffee shop. You stumble to a stop next to him, tripping
over your own feet. He opens the door
for you and you thank him, smiling up at him as you walk through. Again, he just looks at you and then glances
away. You’re starting to feel extremely
self-conscious and you’re afraid that you’re doing something wrong.
“Vat vould you like?” Germany
asks you, tearing you away from your thoughts.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” you
respond, a move you have used many times in the past.
Germany doesn’t respond, but
rather he goes up to the counter and places the order. You hang back a little awkwardly and wait. You look over at Germany, but his face is
unreadable. He glances at you before you
turn away, so you maintain eye contact with him. It’s like having a staring contest,
almost. You can’t help but look away
first, blushing. He was staring at you
so intently and you felt like you were going to fall into those blue eyes of
his.
It doesn’t take long before your
drinks are ready and Germany hands yours to you. You blow on the steaming liquid and take a
small sip. It’s blacker than some of the
metal music you listen to, so you go to add sugar and creamer. Germany drinks his as is and watches you stir
the sugar in.
“So, how was the world meeting?”
you ask him, trying to strike up a conversation while you wait for your coffee
to cool.
Germany sighs and shakes his
head before answering. “Nozing vas
akomplishet. Zose foolish Allies did
nozing but argue unt bicker zee whole time,” he tells you.
“Did you really expect any
different?” you ask him teasingly, cocking an eyebrow and giving him a
lopsided, closed-lip smile.
He stares at you for a few
moments before saying,” Nein. I suppose I dit not. I am zurroundet by idiots.”
Yikes. I hope he doesn’t
mean me! “Well, you can’t fix stupid,” you chuckle,
taking a sip of your coffee.
“Ja. I zuppose you are korrekt,”
he responds resignedly.
“Well, how was your day
otherwise?” you ask him after a brief pause.
“I fineshet most of my vork
before Italy took it. I do not know vere
he put it, but I neet it back. Zee
papervork nefer ends,” he replies in a frustrated tone.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it back from Italy for you. I know you’ll be able to get it done, so don’t
stress over it. It’s not healthy,” you
tell him, looking at him with concern.
You were worried something like this would happen. You leave yourself a mental note to talk to
Italy about taking Germany’s work from him.
“Zank you for vorryink,
(y/n). You are fery kint,” Germany tells
you, looking you in the eyes.
You blush and look away from
him, feeling embarrassed. As you move to
cross your legs, you accidentally brush against Germany’s under the table. “Ah! I’m
sorry,” you blurt out. You wonder if you’re
feeling hot because of the coffee or if it’s something else.
“Nein. Ist es fein,” he
responds in German. You understand what
he means, though.
You’re both blushing and the
conversation has sort of died off, so you desperately search around for
something to talk about. “Could you
teach me some German?” you ask him, speaking without thinking. You instantly feel embarrassed, but it
catches Germany’s attention and he makes eye contact with you.
“Vhy vould you vant to learn my
language? It sounds ‘skary’ as Italy has
tolt me,” he says, watching how you react.
“I like the way it sounds,” you
answer, feeling how hot your cheeks are.
“I’ve always thought that it sounds very strong and masculine. It seems like the language of a very
disciplined people, and I like that. And
it doesn’t hurt that all music sounds instantly more brutal when sung in
German!”
Germany’s cheeks are flushed
slightly pink by the time you’re done talking.
“You haf… fery interestink
opinions,” he tells you. “But I vill
teach you if zat is vhat you vant.”
“Really? Thank you,” you say, flashing him a bright,
genuine smile.
Germany looks amazed, as though
he’s never seen you smile before. You
wonder what is so shocking, but you don’t dare ask. You’ve both finished your coffee and you’ve
been in the shop for about forty-five minutes more or less, so Germany suggests
leaving. He takes your empty cup and
throws it away for you and joins you at the door, holding it open for you
again. When you step outside, the
temperature has dropped significantly and it feels a little chilly to you now.
“Voult you like to go straight
back or voult you like to go for a valk first?” Germany asks you.
“I wouldn’t mind going for a
walk. I was cooped up in the house all
day, so I’m sure the fresh air will do me good,” you tell him.
“Alright,” he says as he starts
walking. There is a park nearby which he
leads you to and you walk side by side making small talk.
“It’s funny. Even though I know there’s a war going on
right now, everything feels really peaceful here,” you say, shivering slightly.
“I am glat you sink zat vay,”
Germany replies. After a brief silence,
he speaks up again. “Do you… Do you like it here? I do not know vhere you kame from, but I am
sure it is tryink to life vis three men zat are only slightly more zan
strangers.”
You stop walking and look at
him, hugging yourself for warmth and to stop your shivering. He stops walking as well and he meets your
gaze. “I really like it here,” you tell
him with a smile. “I was a little scared
at first when I woke up in a strange place all battered and beat up, but I don’t
think I was ever scared of any of you guys.
You’ve all been very kind to me and I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I’ve imposed on you for so
long. It’s just that I don’t know how to
get back home. I’m not really sure how I
got here in the first place, to be honest.”
As you finish talking, you trail
off and look down at your hands which you are nervously toying with. You feel something heavy and warm fall over
your shoulders and you look up to see Germany glancing away from you in just
his t-shirt. You stick your arms through
the sleeves and zip the jacket up carefully, still watching Germany. Is he…
blushing? “Thank you,” you say
quietly.
“It is nozing,” he responds in a
tight voice. Ah, he’s embarrassed.
“I feel so tiny,” you giggle,
flapping your arms around in the sleeves of the jacket that are way too long
for you. As you do so, you notice that
the jacket smells like Germany and you smile.
Germany watches you flap around
for a moment and lets out a brief, quiet chuckle. “I sink at least two of you vould fit in
zere,” he tells you in a tone of amusement.
You beam up at him and giggle,
wrapping your arms around yourself again.
“V-vell it is gettink late, so vee shoult probably go back,” he tells
you, getting embarrassed again.
“Alright,” you respond
cheerfully.
You walk back in silence, but it’s
a peaceful, content sort of silence. You’re
very happy because you’ve realized Germany was probably embarrassed this whole
time. It’s the first time you and
Germany have really spent time alone together, so it’s natural for there to be
a little awkwardness.
You reach the door more quickly
than you would wish and the two of you go inside. “Thank you for taking me out,” you tell
Germany. “I had a lovely time.”
“I dit as vell,” he responds
solemnly.
You unzip the jacket and slip it
off. “Thanks for lending it to me. I should have brought my own,” you tell him
with a wry smile.
“It is fine. I did not neet it anyvay,” he tells you,
taking the jacket out of your hands.
The two of you stand in silence
and gaze at each other for a few long moments before you break the
silence. “You look exhausted. You should go to bed soon,” you tell Germany,
noticing dark purple circles under his eyes.
“I am fine. I neet to finish my vork,” he tells you. Always
trying to be manly.
“Well yes, work is important,
but your health is more important. You
need to take better care of yourself, Germany.
If you don’t, then all of your work will go undone and you could very
well be unable to fight this war or save Italy and Japan when they get into
trouble. I’ll help you with the
paperwork tomorrow, so please just get some rest now,” you say, pleading with
him. You know he doesn’t take care of
himself like he should and you really are worried that he’ll collapse, so you
fight dirty. You give him the doe eyes,
the eyes that no man can resist. It’s
manipulative, but you feel like you’re using it for good, so maybe it’ll be okay.
He holds your gaze for a second
or two before he has to look away. “Alright,
alright. But only zis once,” he says,
relenting.
“Good. Well, I’ll start heading for bed myself, I
think,” you tell him with a soft smile. “Goodnight,
Germany.”
“Goodnight, Mädchen ,” he replies.
You make your way up the stairs
and Germany walks over to the coat closet near the front door to hang his
jacket up. As he walks over, he notices
the scent of your perfume on his jacket and he breathes it in and closes his
eyes for a few moments. Then, he hangs
the jacket up and goes upstairs to his room to prepare for bed. Meanwhile, Japan mentally takes notes.
