[Fic] Towards the Unforeseeable Tomorrow
Title: Towards the Unforeseeable Tomorrow
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Germany/North Italy.
Rating/Genre: PG-13 / Introspective, Fluff, Friendship.
Summary: Regardless of how he feels inside, Veneziano is always smiling. Based on this strip.
A/N: Written for owlbro counterheist, because she was having a crappy week and needed some cheering-up. As it was written at 5AM, it may or may not come across as a little disjointed in some places. Also, hey, look, it's not a Giripan fic!
~.*.~
Veneziano always smiles.
He smiles even as a child, busily cleaning away in Mister Austria’s house; when he dusts at drab, dreary paintings mounted upon floral-patterned walls; when he scrubs at the mould hiding in-between the linoleum tiles; when he hunches over the kitchen sink, wiping the dishes dry before putting them away.
He smiles, even when he trips himself going up the stairs, or when he unintentionally knocks over things on Germany’s desk, because he was talking to Germany, and talking to Germany makes him happy, and that also makes him excited and Veneziano likes to move a lot when he’s excited and… oh, that vase just fell over, sorry Germany, ve-
Germany shouts at him, of course; just like how he always shouts at Veneziano to run faster whenever they are training; like how he shouts at Veneziano because he threw the pin instead and not the grenade; or like how he shouts at Veneziano (as he rushes in to help) in the battlefield because Veneziano cried out to him.
Germany shouts at him, and sometimes puts him in headlocks, but after that, he also sighs, and then tells Veneziano, do be careful next time, all right?
So Veneziano continues to smile, even though he’s a little worried now, and nervous, and maybe even a little scared…
(He will come back, won’t he? Germany’s strong, ve, he will definitely come back-)
He doesn’t want to make Germany worry again, but he also doesn’t know what else to do when he’s afraid, when he’s afraid that Germany wouldn’t return, just like how he didn’t-
“Hey Germany! Germaaaaany, ciao!”
“Italy? What are you doing here?” Germany frowns at him, though not unkindly.
Veneziano only beams brightly, holding up the basket he’d packed from home. “I prepared some food for you, Germany! Please eat it later when you’re hungry.”
“Ah,” Germany blinks, surprised, but he accepts the basket from Veneziano. “Thank you.”
“Also Germany, ve, let’s play pretend for a bit! Just for five seconds, I’ll be ‘Germany’ and you are ‘Italy’ okay?”
“Huh? That is a very strange request, but all right…”
“Yay!” Veneziano smile widens as he lifts his left arm up in a salute. He sets his face into the sternest expression he can muster, raising his voice and he says, “Right, listen up now, Italy! Do not get injured! Take caution not to catch a cold! Remember to put on your clothes when you wake up - do not go pant-less when you leave the tent! That is all.”
Germany stares blankly, brows furrowed slightly. “Do I really sound like that?”
And then he sighs, before breaking into a smile. “You should salute with your right hand, Italy.”
He raises his own hand in salute, lips still quirked in the tiniest of smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Understood. I’ll remember to do all of that.”
Veneziano smiles, even when he’s scared and he’s nervous, and when he’s crying right now (“Ah! W-why are you crying?!”) - because he doesn’t want the people he cared for (he doesn’t want Germany) to worry and fret over him.
He always smiles, so that when they finally come back again, they will see it and return the same smile back at him.
-fine-