[Fic] A Christmas Shopping Trip from Hell
Germany was not happy. In fact, if you had to measure his temperament at that moment between calm and homicidal rage, he would be very close to an explosion of squid-like rage.
Italy had, through some miracle, managed to persuade him into going Christmas shopping on one of the busiest shopping nights in December, and when this was over he was going to throttle him. Or make him do all his old drills on Christmas morning.
Unfortunately, Germany found it impossible to hate the over-optimistic, hyperactive nation he called his best friend. Broadly speaking, Germany was fairly certain he was in love with Italy.
This was a problem because for nations, the act of falling in love with anybody was dangerous (often leading to heartbreak) due to their longevity. Falling in love with other countries was far more troublesome, because as they were forced to act as their bosses instructed most of the time relationships were nigh on impossible to maintain (unless you were lucky enough to be a certain Germanic nation and his ex-wife turned current girlfriend.).
Anyway, back to the shopping. Germany really needed to cut down in this habit of giving exposition instead of fighting through a horde of screaming housewives to find presents.
Italy had, to Germany’s infinite surprise, actually asked him for advice on what to buy. Although the advice he had given had not been particularly exciting (compiled mostly of cleaning products for America and a sewing kit for Austria), Italy had seemed genuinely grateful for his input. It was strangely cheering.
Currently, the two nations were standing in the middle of a busy shopping mall, one almost jumping around in excitement and the other almost exploding from frustration at all the impolite people.
“Ger- Ludwig, where should we go next? We need to get Gilbert something-what do you think he’d like?” Italy was a well of inexhaustible enthusiasm. It was endearing and infuriating simultaneously. At least he remembered to use their “human” names in public. Most of the time.
“I don’t know, Feliciano. I suppose he’ll want beer of some kind. Are there any beer shops in this mall, or will we have to search out yet another location?” He didn’t like to be short with Italy, but Germany could feel a stress headache blooming behind his eyes.
“Oh, yeah! We can go to…uh…Ludwig, how do you pronounce that?” Italy pointed to a sign saying Landbierparadies.
Germany duly pronounced it, but he had a feeling this trip was going to take at least a few more hours and he really wasn’t feeling up to it, as shameful as it felt to admit.
It did, to Ludwig’s dismay, take three more hours to get even half done with their festive shopping. It really didn’t help that Italy had managed to befriend about half the world’s nations and felt like he had to get them all personal gifts.
Germany was slightly ashamed to admit that he really wouldn’t have bothered with such a thing. Normally he bought most countries desk calendars, to improve their atrocious time management. As far as he knew, only two countries actually used theirs in some way - France to keep track of his many romantic accomplishments, and Austria because Austria was almost more obsessive about time keeping than Germany himself.
Even worse, his headache had intensified after so many jaunty Christmas tunes had blared from the mall’s speakers that he was sure if someone was to look inside his head there’d be jingle bells stuck inside his ear canal. And possibly Slade would be running around bashing his corneas with their musical instruments. It would explain the massive amounts of pain radiating from just behind his eyes.
“Um… Ludwig?” Germany looked up sharply, and then groaned in pain. Note to self: never do that again.
Italy looked worried. It didn’t seem right at all.
“Is something wrong, Feliciano?” He tried not to sound too concerned-he didn’t want to increase the other nation’s worry.
“You… you don’t look very well, Ludwig. You’re all pale. Do you want to finish this tomorrow?” Italy’s mouth set in determination. Germany could tell he wasn’t going to budge, knowing as he did that Italy was almost childishly stubborn when he wanted to be.
Still, he really wasn’t feeling well. He was worried that if he didn’t get out of the gottverdammte shopping centre soon, he was either going to faint (embarrassing and hazardous to his health) or go completely insane (bad for everyone involved).
“Ja, I think that would…be…best…” Germany could feel himself slipping out of conciousness. It wouldn’t have been a shock when he felt the floor behind his head, if he hadn’t already been unconscious by that point.
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When he blinked himself back to awareness, the first thing he saw was a set of huge brown eyes.
“Ger-Ludwig, what’s wrong? I knew we should have left earlier! How long ago did you last eat? Why can’t you take better care of yourself?” Italy was frantic, which surprised Germany. Normally a barrage of grenades couldn’t phase the cuter nation (and when on earth did he start thinking in such superficial adjectives? Clearly fainting did not suit him.)
He missed the rest of what Italy was saying. His head really did hurt now, even more than before he’d fainted, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get out of the accursed mall until he’d been checked over by someone.
This disconnect was why, when he felt himself being stood up and led out of the mall, he wasn’t entirely aware until they finally emerged into the blessed fresh air. He breathed in deeply and felt the last vestiges of dizziness exit his head.
“I’m sorry if I… worried you, Italy.” Germany looked away to avoid the stricken expression on Italy’s face. He hated it when Italy was upset about anything. Being incapable of hiding his emotions was one of his main weaknesses, and it was certainly the only one of Italy’s that Germany truly hated.
The only thing about him he hated, in fact.
Therefore, Germany was surprised when instead of vocalising an answer to Germany’s pitiful statement, Italy turned around and almost pounced onto him.
And then kissed him. It was almost certainly the best and most surprising moment of Germany’s day, week, month and probably year.
Italy was a very good kisser. He was almost sorry when the kiss ended, but thankfully Germany was fairly sure there would be many more and better repeats of the experiment.
“Italy, um, I-” Incoherency was not something Germany was used to.
“Oh, shut up Germany. I want to kiss you again.” Italy had a very sweet smile. Germany shut up quickly.