hetalia oneshots || sketches, arrows, & moments;
fic dump with a semi-cohesive theme; posted for archival purposes *is rich and compelling*. see below note for WAL status.
title: America's New Eyes
pairing: USxUK
rating: PG-13ish
summary: One desert afternoon, England thinks he might find the words to tell America how he feels.
AMERICA'S NEW EYES
This was a poison whirlwind, some tunnel of love out of order. When the Hell did England even start going to America's house? He sat on a couch opposite America, feeling the desert heat creep toxic into his nerves. He shouldn't be here, really...The heat was getting to him. His blood was too thick.
"Coke?" America asked, giving England a slim glance over his sunglasses.
England looked away quickly- would rather feel the Hellish white heat than the magnetic waves of cool that rushed over him at that casual look. "No. Er. Thank you," he muttered. He looked back to America- the idiot looked like fucking Top Gun in that cheesy white shirt, those stupid sunglasses, blue fucking jeans, for God's sake...but then, ah...
The air was stale. The vultures were circling skeleton dreams just outside the window. England's nerves were shot and he wished he wasn't in this room- he swallowed hard. He wished he wasn't watching the precise lines of America's body move fluid like music, wasn't seeing that slightly confused expression on America's face as he turned to get a Coke from the fridge...a body that used to be so small, so graspable, was now whirling fire, time out of mind, recklessly burning a black cosmic hole in England's dreams, and-
America pouted slightly- looked like he was stuck glum in a gloomy waiting room. Looked blue. He situated himself back on the couch; lay down sloppily, letting his limbs rest on the edges, devil-may-care. He pushed up his sunglasses so that they rested on his forehead...His eyes flickered past the dirty blinds, to the desert highway: his eyes were a low-down love song. Something from the age of the outlaws had lingered in the gunslinger way America moved. England felt to say something but flushed heavily and made up reasons not to...then another feeling swelled, gathered in his stomach, crowded his throat with gold- and he turned to America, mouth on the edge, ready for words.
But their eyes didn't meet immediately. England's expression fell slightly, softly. America's eyes were determined- he flashed dark electric blue up toward England. "Hey, I know you don't like it here," America huffed, and something inside England just tumbled into toxin, "But then- why do you have to show it?"
In many ways America was still just a child- couldn't see something so obvious before him. England as suddenly wordless- like he was watching his own heart on trial. America's mouth turned cool and sallow, and his eyes didn't understand. A steel guitar feeling, an electric heart. England wondered if expression would ever give form to this heavy stifling feeling-
He watched the ceiling fans revolve in America's Ray-Bans- kaleidoscopes of the USA, pinwheels for tomorrow's mountains, tomorrow's lost highways. A pause like an enchantment made a quick beat in England's mind. "I just can't contain my distaste, you bloody git- maybe I'd behave myself if something existed here besides Coca-Cola and President Mickey Mouse and this goddamned heat," England answered with an acid bite, and felt his own heart roll its eyes. "Did I raise you to be such a damned hick?"
America's mouth straightened into a line, and England could tell he was gritting his teeth. These games would endlessly repeat, they always did no matter how hard he tried...there'd always be this cat-and-mouse, these vague intentions, exhaustion and threats of surrender. But still- his heart clenched- he couldn't look away from the spinning reflections in America's new eyes.
title: The Hawaiian Connection
pairing: USxJapan
rating: PG
summary: Japan's secret heart lives in Hawaii.
THE HAWAIIAN CONNECTION
Japan was in Hawaii again; the sun beat down like a passion flower and he felt at peace. The cool guitar breeze slipped through the palm trees and into his mind...and at night, there'd be flames in the neon dark. Japan's secret heart lived in Hawaii.
So the waves were crushing and crashing onto the sand, and Japan's thoughts were far off in some relative section of his mind...The sun was getting low and the heat was dying down, softening around the edges. His eyes were full of gentle thought as he pulled out a short, square box of cigarettes, reached inside his pocket for his lighter...put the cigarette to his lips-
But then heard a triumphant, full laugh sound from the breeze- seemed to be coming from some infinite starry platform where only Power Rangers and eagles lived their heroic, lonely lives. Japan's eyes moved fast, he searched for the voice he recognized...tentatively put his lighter back in his pocket.
...Wasn't that America he heard?
Yes, indeed it was. And here came the man himself- tall, wound in enemy muscle, movements like a gun stream as he ran toward Japan waving and smiling...and wearing bright red, white and blue boxers. Japan flushed slightly and looked away toward the sea, tried to direct his mind elsewhere.
"Heyo! Japan!" America greeted brightly, catching his breath on a corner of silence.
"Oh, hello, America-san," Japan responded, looking back to America- his eyes askance and asking.
"So you're in Hawaii again! Jeez you come here a lot- you shoulda called me! I was here too," America said, giving Japan a brief hug.
Japan tensed a little, but was pretty much used to the Western barrage of affection by now (aside from that, America must have been swimming- he was dripping wet onto Japan's clothes). "Ah, yes- I, well, feared that you might have been- busy..." Japan responded, omitting the fact that previous excursions with America had raised his blood pressure considerably.
"Aw, never too busy to see a friend!" America grinned. Something in that grin flashed like cheap drugstore lights, tacky and lonely as night, and Japan subconsciously smiled.
America's expression changed; he looked out on the sea with his expression slightly grayed. "I forgot what I was going to say," he said with a small pout. Japan blinked in confusion. Did that mean he wanted him to help?- or would that be unwarranted, was he just saying that...but how could he help, anyway? He took out his lighter again, ruminating steadily on this point-
And then America's eyes flashed brightly. "Ah! That's right! I came to tell you that this," he said, taking the cigarette from Japan's mouth lightly, "is not allowed in Hawaii anymore!"
Japan blinked, and his heart dropped low. "...Smoking cigarettes?"
America nodded with a bright child's smile- holding the cigarette as though teasing a dog.
"P-please explain!" Japan cried, flustered. Smoking was banned in his beloved Hawaii!? How was this possible!? But smoking was- half of Japan's men smoked, for God's sake!
A sea breeze lifted over the star sand and America laughed. "Yep! The bosses in Hawaii decided it'd be bad for the environment," he said; then thoughtfully put a finger to his lips, "But that's only in public places."
"...So...ah, I see," Japan replied thoughtfully, wondering how else he could enjoy himself while just sitting around in Hawaii. He could...watch clouds or...
America laughed. "Hey, well, it's not so bad- only in public places, like I said. Hey, I have a house here- why don't you come back to my place?"
"I don't- I don't have such lewd hobbies!" Japan stammered, the red rising onto his face.
America tipped his head curiously. "Eh?"
"I- I mean- I'm...perhaps later," Japan replied in defeat. He didn't have enough fingers to count how many days he was assaulted and embarrassed by Western culture. Teeth, maybe. Definitely not fingers.
America smiled and put a hand on Japan's shoulder. "Well, uh, whaddya wanna do instead?" he asked; stretched his arms over his head with a catlike movement.
Japan paused, moved to put away his lighter. "I'm fine to just stay here; do you have any ideas, America-san?" He gave America a quick, appraising glance. America grinned. "My cigarette, please," Japan said, extending his hand.
"Heh. Here ya go!" America said, handing the cigarette to Japan sunnily. He watched as Japan put the cigarette back in the Seven Stars box very methodically, precisely- quite like an old man would, used to habit. America laughed. Japan looked up at him through his bangs, eyes wondering. America just shrugged. "I wanna go for a swim. Wanna come?"
Japan looked out to the sea- slim dark lines rolling onto the shore. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you," he said, "I'll just stay behind and watch."
"Okay! Oh, hold my glasses for me?"
So Japan found a place to sit on the sand, and the pink was creeping into the blue sky as America ran silhouetted out to the sea. The air was getting low and humid- the sun was getting ready to fall. He watched America get beat up, tossed around, by the rough chopping waves. Stumbling around like a happy puppy often getting tumbled- sometimes disappearing down beneath the tide, and sometimes standing against a crushing blow like some king.
Japan took some pictures back at the shore, some of the beach and the palms, a couple of America- just a couple...and he was feeling a vague thought- wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he decided to push it away. The sun was on the set when America finally came back.
Japan reached up to give him his glasses. "Sure you don't wanna swim?" America asked, putting them back on. "The waves are great-"
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," Japan answered.
"Alright, then! Let's see those pictures," America said brightly, snatching the camera away- Japan blushed heavily, feeling stupid for letting America notice he even had a camera...but America seemed to think nothing of it- just scrolled through the pictures with scattered interjections like, "Wow, you're handy with a camera," and "Holy crap! I look so freaking awesome in this picture!"
America decided they should go get some drinks, and Japan of course complied. The night crowd was coming out and the brushed through the desultory crowd- all people who were lost and happy. A hot night breeze swept through the spaces between- America looked at Japan with a smile in his eyes. "You like Hawaii, huh?"
Japan smiled- eyes still shaded, so America couldn't tell what kind of smile it was. "Very much so," he responded enthusiastically, as they came onto the pavement by the shore.
"That's good," America hummed, feeding a vending machine near them a dollar. He pressed a button and looked up at Japan through scattered bangs. "So, uh,- how are you?"
Japan looked at America askance- eyes surprised by the strange, sudden tone of America's voice. "Oh, fine, I suppose- and you?"
"I'm okay," America responded, and handed Japan a white can. America was ever himself- deciding for others what they'd like.
But Japan didn't really mind, because he mostly agreed with America anyway. He took the can with a nod and a "thank-you" and waited for America to get his drink.
So America pushed another dollar into the machine, then pressed a button- the can clattered down with a metallic sound thumping through the gut of the machine, and America leaned down to get it...then cleared his throat. Japan looked over to him curiously. "So, uh, actually. I was thinking, while I was swimming out there," America began, the words cagey and hurried- a little uncomfortable. He paused. His eyes met Japan's, quiet and starry. There was a hiss and metal click as Japan opened the can, movements expecting but gentle.
"I was thinking that I must have- I musta sounded like a huge perv when I ast you to- hang out with me," America finally said with a booming laugh, opening his can likewise. Japan's eyes flattened- that was what he was nervous about? "And I uh know that you're more I guess- conservative? Is that the word? - conservative, then, than me. So I just wanned to apologize."
Japan paused, and then smiled- smiled like salt and carnation blooms. "Oh, it's alright," he said, laughing smally at how America could be such a kid. "I wouldn't mind going back to your house, anyway."
An awkward pause ensued. With each silent second, the blush crept slow back on Japan's face, and America finally let out a laugh. "Hey, Japan, are you sure you're not-"
"Shh," Japan responded quick, with a slight smile and roll of the eyes.
America smiled- it was nice to see Japan with his guard down, if even for a moment. "Whatever, then. Well, here's to you visiting! You should come more often," America said, saluting Japan by way of iced tea can.
Japan tipped his can similarly. "Yes, Hawaii's very beautiful," he said, but there was some other tact reason that just blew by in the island breeze.
The sun was in Malibu mode, colored like gambling flamingoes false in the heat; the gentle air was burning around them, and each was thoughtless- maybe just happy, maybe that was it. Content just to drink lilikoi iced tea beneath the raging veil of palm and sea, content to have company, to get to know some hidden heart.
title: Last Night Blues
pairing: SpainXRomano
rating: PG-13
summary: Romano was a coward, and nothing scared him more than the heat of Spain's touch...
LAST NIGHT BLUES
"You're a rat," Romano bit, and his acid flush was romance red as he looked down on Spain- legs tangled around hips, quiet in the warm evening air. Spain just laughed sheepishly, smiled with a knife's edge flashing in the white...reached a summer-colored hand to muss Romano's hair. Romano huffed, Romano was dissatisfied-
Romano was dissatisfied, he was trying to brave this storm but inside he was choking...these waves of cold were setting him with a nervous feeling, and his hands were shaking. Something like windy ecstasy was passing through his blood, cutting into his bones like light- and his heart was pounding something furious, hammering into his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up-
"You're just a rat in too-big shoes," he managed to stammer. Spain was usually dumb as fuck, but he turned sharp at all the wrong times- he looked up to Romano with knowing eyes and a small frightened sound pushed through Romano's mouth. Romano was a coward and nothing scared him more than this hot closeness, this faltering weakness. All at the hands of a man who was childish and thick and so stupid, whose gaze was slightly smug because he'd known it would happen all along (but his eyes were strong and slow as chocolate)...
"Jus- just who the Hell do you think you- are, anyway?" Romano spat, clenching angrily at Spain's hair...Spain smiled into a kiss, tilted his head up just for that starry sweet touch- Romano was between a nightmare and a dream as he felt Spain's fingers clutch his waist. Spain was a living heart attack. His mouth was hot for spice and his breathing was a sin, and that made Romano hate him. Romano hated to be weak.
"-Talk to me, goddamn you," Romano said, mouth full of ice and war.
Spain laughed as he shifted his weight, moved strong, hands sliding from Romano's waist to his hips...Romano'd been on the top, now was on bottom, Spain was gaining the upper hand quickly. It was clear that tonight, Romano'd be the loser. "Talk to me with your eyes," Spain said sunnily, happily, like it was a casual everyday thing, "With touch and silence. That's talking, too." A strange feeling cut through Romano, so he stole one kiss with the force and greed and imperative hunger of a man dying in desert heat-
And Romano said, "I wish I never fuckin' met you," as the night descended into soft secrets, and their eyes met like cigarette smoke and fire gold.
yitle: One Big Happy Family
characters/pairings: Germany, Prussia, Italy, Austria; slight GerXIta
rating: PG-13
summary: Germany wakes up one morning and Prussia's hovering over him, just being his awesome self. Good way to start a morning? How 'bout a heart attack?
ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY
Soft sun was full and heavy, making circles in Germany's dreams...his vision blurred as he opened his eyes, dissecting colors and shapes from black formlessness.
Wait, wait, wait. Those colors shouldn't be there. Neither should that shape. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but his arm was stopped short by- somebody's hand...
"Ah!" said the form with bright red eyes which was sitting on top of Germany and shouldn't have been. "So, you're awake, huh? You lazy bum. Guess what, West?"
Germany paused; Germany coughed. He looked up to Prussia with a deflated expression. Prussia and Italy (because he knew Italy was here)? "...Yes, what?" Germany got out, voice raspy.
"I'm so awesome that I'm thinking of becoming a scientist," Prussia grinned lopsidedly, leaning down slightly.
Germany's mind was running checks and computations, such as "why is he in my bed," "what's the easiest ay to get him out of my bed," "what do I need to do today," and "I wonder if Italy is awake." So he didn't have much faculty to yell at Prussia at the moment. "...Explain," he finally said.
Prussia let out a sardonic laugh- the kind of laugh that looks down on someone. Germany rolled his eyes slightly. "'Cuz, I came to a real scientific conclusion," Prussia sighed smugly. "Okay, so lissen well, brosky, 'cuz it's a difficult subject.
"So I was lookin' in the mirror this morning and I was like, 'Could there ever be anybody as awesome as me?'- 'cuz you know it would worry me. How could anybody be as awesome as me? So I got down to checking off all the things that make me wonderful. And then I said to myself- you know, all this awesomeness couldn't be contained in any other form than myself. If somebody else was as awesome as me, they'd probably implode." He tipped his head up a little- put a thoughtful hand to his lips, and looked down at Germany knowingly. "Wanna know why, bromosexual?"
Germany wasn't sure he actually did want to know, but it was morning and he'd like to be done with this as soon as possible (on a side note, it worried him that he was able to completely gloss over being called "bromosexual"). "...Why, brother?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Because I'm just that awesome," Prussia said, and his eyes lit in a mad way- his teeth flashed in the morning sun.
A flare of irritation sparked in Germany's eyes; the corner of his mouth twitched. "So essentially, you got absolutely nothing accomplished this morning," he observed.
"Hu-huh?" Prussia responded indignantly.
Germany sighed. He sat up, pushing Prussia off him gently as he moved. "Never mind. Would you like anything in particular for breakfast?" he asked, getting up from the bed and started toward the bathroom- mind running like clockwork already, disregarding that small bit of inanity on Prussia's part.
"PANCAKES!" Prussia yelled like a gleeful little kid, and threw one of Germany's pillows at the bathroom door.
"Al-alright, just don't make a mess!" Germany snapped irritably, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back on the bed. Prussia rolled around on the covers, laughing maniacally, not listening to Germany, and chanting "WIN WIN WIN WIN" over and over again.
Germany grit his teeth and closed his eyes, counted to ten so as to ameliorate his frustration. Then- because of all the noise, probably- something beneath the covers stirred. Something groggy, hungry, and Italian. "Ehh? What's with the noise?" Italy's voice was muffled beneath the sheets.
Prussia's head perked up and he stopped short in his self-absorbed mess-making. Italy cooed and yawned under the sheets- then popped his head out, looking around. "Germannyyyy, you're up already? Come baaaack..." He paused- then looked to Prussia beside him and smiled brightly. "Ah, hello, Prussia! Good morning!"
Prussia's eyes flashed and he positively grinned. "Heeey, cutie!" he exclaimed, pouncing on Italy and hugging him fiercely- Germany felt another wave of irritation flare in his blood. "What's up, what's up! I didn't know you were here! Hey, West is gonna make us pancakes!"
"Ah! I like pancakes!" Italy said, looking up at Prussia (and still not entirely aware of who "West" was).
"Yep, after that OCD freak washes up- say, let's do something fun in the meantime," Prussia grinned, and then moved to-
Or at least tried to move, but was stopped short by Germany's firm grasp on his arm. "Also, don't do that," he commanded flatly, then went off into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Prussia rose an eyebrow. "Jeez, what a joykill," he remarked annoyedly- then began to rip the stuffing out of Germany's pillow as vengeance. "Well, West just doesn't fully grasp how great I am," he reasoned.
"Ah, Germany, you're showering?" Italy called, sitting up in bed. "You know, France once told me to save water and shower with a friend!"
Prussia looked up from his methodical destruction toward Italy. "Don't listen to anything that loser says," he bit, "Also, help me with this."
Germany sighed as he turned the water on- listened to the sigh of the heating pipes and the hiss of the steady stream. Italy and Prussia- what a wonderful way to start the day. It was nice to have company and all, but why did it always happen that his "company" was either psychotic or...Italy? He shook his head. The only way this morning could get worse was if Austria-
And as if on cue, he heard an impatient knocking on the door. "Yes?" he called, over the water.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm up now," Austria said, "And that my tea doesn't make itself.- Hey, what are you- did that used to be a pillow?...Idiots."
Germany sighed heavily.
title: Germany, Italy, The Morning, & The Highway
pairing: GerXIta
rating: PG
summary: On a trip to Spain's house, Italy takes a good look at Germany.
GERMANY, ITALY, THE MORNING, & THE HIGHWAY
The highway was deserted on all sides, just the typical morning traffic: this northern Spanish landscape, dry rocks and whispers of nothing, abstract green lush in the sun. A place like this just felt like a dream...
Other types of savage trucks were speeding on by, making deadlines and deliveries; and apart from the regulars, one shining black G-Wagen like a monster crab climbing over the black ribbon road- Germany and Italy, on the road to Spain's house for a visit.
"Germannyyyy," Italy whined, breaking a silence that was never really there to begin with, touching the passenger seat window tentatively. He looked over to Germany at the wheel- eyes in a soft light but looking hard and straight ahead- jawline set and cat slim. Italy paused. "Germannnyyy-"
"Yes, what?" Germany answered, still looking ahead.
"I'm hungry- let's stop!" Italy suggested brightly, touching Germany's arm- for some reason, maybe persuasion, maybe just for touch.
Germany paused, eyebrows furrowed, and took a quick glance out his window. "...Italy, this is the middle of nowhere," he replied.
Italy paused, and looked out his own window- saw nothing but Green Spain rolling by like a surrealist's dream. "Ah, that's right," he answered, disappointedly.
Germany rose an eyebrow, looking over to Italy. "Hold out a bit longer.- Wait, what happened to those things I brought?" Germany asked, eyes suddenly suspicious.
Italy paused, then let out a flitting, nervous laugh. "Ah, well, hah- funny thing about those-"
"You finished them already?!" Germany balked, in honest shock. It was a whole bag full of food- he rationed it out, reasoned that it should last them the drive down to Spain's house- plus that time they stopped to eat at France's house...And Italy had devoured all of it already...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Italy exclaimed, "It wasn't enough, though..."
Germany's eyes softened; his face fell to an expression of defeat. "Well, it's fine," he said, voice a bit rainy, and reached over to muss Italy's hair. It was still awkward for him to connect with touch- with feeling- but Italy didn't seem to notice the hesitation in his movements, so it didn't really matter. "We need gas anyway, so I'll get you something if the station has a convenience store."
Italy's face brightened; he took Germany's arm hostage as he lunged forward to hug him- "Yay! Thank you!" Germany's eyes snapped open in surprise, and he had no time to regain his balance- squished against the window, partially blinded by Italy's hair, hands falling helplessly off the wheel-
"ITALY I'M DRIVING!" Germany barked, taking Italy by the shoulder and slamming him back in his seat.
"Oww," Italy whined, nursing his shoulder, fidgeting miserably in his seat.
"And put your seat belt on! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?"
Italy paused- took a good look at Germany: so serious, eyes razor sharp, mouth worried- and his whining died off, fell quick into happy, melody laughter. "Yessir!" he replied vigorously, snapping his seat belt closed.
"Y-you..." Germany muttered underneath his breath, glancing at Italy- but then just shook his head. His hands tightened around the wheel and he tried to regain the balance in his nerves, sped up a little. Cool air was like a bullet train- empty scenery and a sky as blue as sea flashed by: the car burned on the morning tar...
"Do you want anything in particular?" Germany asked, voice a low current as he opened the door.
"Make it a surprise!" Italy chimed, waving his hands enthusiastically- that mysterious language of gestures he employed that Germany still didn't understand. His smile was all sunshine and warm sea, but Germany's mind was elsewhere: tidying things up, getting out his wallet...so the intention was lost, and Italy leaned forward, hand on the driver's seat armrest. "Also, also- could you check if they have like a sunglass rack?"
Germany looked up to him, eyes considering; he nodded. "Why?"
"I forgot mine."
"Alright," Germany answered, then looked up to Italy with that stern stony look he had whenever he wanted Italy to listen. He cleared his throat. "Stay here, okay? And don't talk to anybody." Italy took a glance outside, past Germany- the only people around were big scary truckers and old dudes, so he understood the reasoning behind that. "If something's wrong, my phone is on-"
Italy broke through Germany's stream of words with a bright, bubbling laugh- Germany was such a worrywart- "Got it!" he piped, sing-song; then unbuckled his seat belt and leapt forward, hugging Germany tightly. "See yaaaa, Germany- don't worry, I'll stay put!" Germany patted him on the back, as if to say, "alright, alright," and Italy was about to move back to his seat- but he paused, caught a scent at Germany's neck, and lingered thoughtfully. "Oh, you smell good. You use cologne, Germany?"
"E-eh?" Germany coughed nervously, pushing Italy away slightly, looking off to the side. "N-no...I mean, yeah...I'm going then- lock the doors, okay?" Italy didn't notice the slight slant of his words- the nervousness...
"Yeah!" Italy nodded. Germany pushed the door closed- back turned to the window as he lifted the gas nozzle from its place...Italy rolled down the passenger seat window and leaned out (well dangled out- his torso was completely outside of the window), completely ignorant of the fact that Germany was busy. "Heeey-"
Germany jumped a little- only slightly, but enough electric shock to tell he was surprised. He looked back over to Italy, seemed to be in the throws of some nervous shake. "What is it?" he snapped.
"Is Germany nervous?"
"What would I be nervous about!"
Italy smiled- "I dono, maybe all the big scary dudes- but you're all macho and stuff, you can take them!" he said determinedly. Germany's expression deflated as Italy went on. "I was gonna say though, don't get anything lame- like don't get something that looks stupid."
Germany raised an eyebrow- turned back toward the numbers changing on the machine, eyes slim. "Okay," he nodded.
"Just think of me when you buy them!"
"I- I will, just get back in the car!" Germany answered- feeling full the knowing smiles, the chuckles, of the men nearby.
Italy laughed and shuffled back into his seat- rolled up the window...and so Germany was off again, finished up that crap and headed inside the station at a half-jog to pay for the gas, to make Italy's present wanton wishes come true easier. Italy sat for a moment, bored; reached out a hand to flick on the radio, then sighed and watched the sky outside the window.
Thought of painting it maybe- thought also the clouds looked like some kind of food. Cotton candy? No, not really. Maybe just a food all their own- clouds should be food. They'd probably taste light, sweet, subtle...
Light, sweet, subtle- for some reason the words struck him funny, and his mind paused; but he just turned his eyes down fro the sky and watched the people go by. Spain's people were all funny- they had something about them that had to do with the sun, and lucky money, maybe...
"There's my favorite melody/ You, my angel, phoning me," he sang to himself, tapping on the dashboard. Man, he was hungry...
A trucker started up- the beats had teeth, poured out smoke as the engine rattled and purred. The sun was beginning to cut through the clear, cool air...Where was Germany? He started to feel a little lonely, so he stared intently at the station door- like that would make Germany magically appear...
He had to wait a couple of minutes, he counted by the songs that whispered past his ears. The slick glass door pushed open and Germany came out, holding a plastic bag in one hand, his wallet and a receipt in the other.
Italy watched, suddenly intent- mind set on seeing Germany for a moment- thoughts suddenly lulled to some warm static. Germany paused to put the receipt into his wallet, put his wallet back in his pocket; Italy laughed at how he was so orderly, so fixed, how he moved so precisely...the truckers nearby were laughing about something and Germany seemed set apart from their laughter.
He crossed the lot, waiting for a convertible to go by. Italy watched him walk- cool, with thought behind his movements, and every line- his jaw, the plane of his shoulders- was sleek and streamlined. He paused in his walk; smoke passed by, drifted behind him like clouds, and he reached a hand up to pull one of his driving gloves tighter- in lines of time that seemed like rain he smoothed back his hair slightly.
He seemed to be thinking of something- he always did. Italy paused; he should paint Germany, sometime...
Germany meant a lot to him, he suddenly thought. He leaned against the window, and he didn't try to sort out these lawless feelings that were pink inside the sighing of his chest- that had something to do with the smoke, the morning sun, and Germany...
The driver's seat door opened. Germany handed Italy the plastic bag. Italy took it with a distracted, "Thank you!" and didn't bother to look inside it for a moment.
Germany set about fixing things again- had to have things just so to be comfortable. He slid into the driver's seat, closed the door behind him...his eyes flickered to the radio; he put a hand tentatively on the key- but-
He noticed Italy staring at him. He paused, eyes shifting to Italy- Italy just sat looking happy, welcoming, a little something else- looking suspicious. Suspicious, because Italy was quiet as he stared at him. "...Wha-what? Is there something wrong? The food, I mean- or the sunglas-"
Italy leaned over again, kissed Germany on the cheek with some warm, steady feeling that was different from the usual radiant bubbly cheer that he usually kissed Germany with. "Eh? What's this about?" Germany asked, but didn't push Italy away.
"Nothing!" Italy answered, voice just a bit too low, just a bit too flushed with some foreign feeling, "I just wanted to kiss you."
The clouds covered the sun, veiled the air inside the car. Germany said nothing- Italy took that as asking and so he kissed him again, nearer to the mouth- further from the mind and closer to the body, full of heart. "Thank you, by the way," Italy said. Germany laid his hand on Italy's hair for a moment- brushed through it...he bit his lip thoughtfully, looking at Italy's eyes, then looking straight away.
"-The sunglasses?" he asked, distracted.
Italy laughed and nodded, giving no hints to his mind- his subtle changes of mood, the reasons he did things, still eluded Germany. There was no logic at all...Italy rifled through the plastic bag cheerfully (with an interjection like, "No waaaay- they sold this here!")...then took out the sunglasses- big and round, glinted dull in the morning light. "Ah, I like these," Italy said, with a lazy cheer, handing them to Germany so he could remove them from the packaging. Germany snapped the plastic, heart still rushing, and handed them back to Italy. He smiled and put them on like he was some kind of spy or something. "Do I look good? Eh?" he asked, poking Germany's arm.
"Yeah," Germany said, with a small smile and nod. He didn't see any reason to forget the kiss- the hushed tones of Italy's voice- but he didn't see any reason to worry about it, either. It was what it was, he guessed, and that was okay for now: he shifted the car into drive and started off. The car clambered slow back onto the highway, and Green Spain flashed by through knives of sun and cloud logic.
NOTES;;
1] I was reading an article on how smoking was banned in public places in Hawaii & the douchebag writer was like "I wonder what affect this'll have on Japanese tourists since 50% of Japanese men smoke and there lots of Japanese tourists go to Hawai & blah blah I'm a douchebag", so that's where I got this idea.
2] lilikoi = passion fruit (HAWAIIAN SUN LILIKOI ICED TEA FTW)
3] "Last Night Blues" is a song by Lightnin' Hopkins that fits that fic well :D
4] The G-Wagen is a Mercedes-Benz.
5] German cars have that little gas thingy on the passenger side, so that's why he rolled down the passenger side window and not the driver's side window.
6] "Green Spain" is Northwest Spain. I have zero idea about geography & highways & whatnot, & it makes no logical sense, but yknow. That's how I roll.
Thanks for reading! :D
title: America's New Eyes
pairing: USxUK
rating: PG-13ish
summary: One desert afternoon, England thinks he might find the words to tell America how he feels.
AMERICA'S NEW EYES
This was a poison whirlwind, some tunnel of love out of order. When the Hell did England even start going to America's house? He sat on a couch opposite America, feeling the desert heat creep toxic into his nerves. He shouldn't be here, really...The heat was getting to him. His blood was too thick.
"Coke?" America asked, giving England a slim glance over his sunglasses.
England looked away quickly- would rather feel the Hellish white heat than the magnetic waves of cool that rushed over him at that casual look. "No. Er. Thank you," he muttered. He looked back to America- the idiot looked like fucking Top Gun in that cheesy white shirt, those stupid sunglasses, blue fucking jeans, for God's sake...but then, ah...
The air was stale. The vultures were circling skeleton dreams just outside the window. England's nerves were shot and he wished he wasn't in this room- he swallowed hard. He wished he wasn't watching the precise lines of America's body move fluid like music, wasn't seeing that slightly confused expression on America's face as he turned to get a Coke from the fridge...a body that used to be so small, so graspable, was now whirling fire, time out of mind, recklessly burning a black cosmic hole in England's dreams, and-
America pouted slightly- looked like he was stuck glum in a gloomy waiting room. Looked blue. He situated himself back on the couch; lay down sloppily, letting his limbs rest on the edges, devil-may-care. He pushed up his sunglasses so that they rested on his forehead...His eyes flickered past the dirty blinds, to the desert highway: his eyes were a low-down love song. Something from the age of the outlaws had lingered in the gunslinger way America moved. England felt to say something but flushed heavily and made up reasons not to...then another feeling swelled, gathered in his stomach, crowded his throat with gold- and he turned to America, mouth on the edge, ready for words.
But their eyes didn't meet immediately. England's expression fell slightly, softly. America's eyes were determined- he flashed dark electric blue up toward England. "Hey, I know you don't like it here," America huffed, and something inside England just tumbled into toxin, "But then- why do you have to show it?"
In many ways America was still just a child- couldn't see something so obvious before him. England as suddenly wordless- like he was watching his own heart on trial. America's mouth turned cool and sallow, and his eyes didn't understand. A steel guitar feeling, an electric heart. England wondered if expression would ever give form to this heavy stifling feeling-
He watched the ceiling fans revolve in America's Ray-Bans- kaleidoscopes of the USA, pinwheels for tomorrow's mountains, tomorrow's lost highways. A pause like an enchantment made a quick beat in England's mind. "I just can't contain my distaste, you bloody git- maybe I'd behave myself if something existed here besides Coca-Cola and President Mickey Mouse and this goddamned heat," England answered with an acid bite, and felt his own heart roll its eyes. "Did I raise you to be such a damned hick?"
America's mouth straightened into a line, and England could tell he was gritting his teeth. These games would endlessly repeat, they always did no matter how hard he tried...there'd always be this cat-and-mouse, these vague intentions, exhaustion and threats of surrender. But still- his heart clenched- he couldn't look away from the spinning reflections in America's new eyes.
title: The Hawaiian Connection
pairing: USxJapan
rating: PG
summary: Japan's secret heart lives in Hawaii.
THE HAWAIIAN CONNECTION
Japan was in Hawaii again; the sun beat down like a passion flower and he felt at peace. The cool guitar breeze slipped through the palm trees and into his mind...and at night, there'd be flames in the neon dark. Japan's secret heart lived in Hawaii.
So the waves were crushing and crashing onto the sand, and Japan's thoughts were far off in some relative section of his mind...The sun was getting low and the heat was dying down, softening around the edges. His eyes were full of gentle thought as he pulled out a short, square box of cigarettes, reached inside his pocket for his lighter...put the cigarette to his lips-
But then heard a triumphant, full laugh sound from the breeze- seemed to be coming from some infinite starry platform where only Power Rangers and eagles lived their heroic, lonely lives. Japan's eyes moved fast, he searched for the voice he recognized...tentatively put his lighter back in his pocket.
...Wasn't that America he heard?
Yes, indeed it was. And here came the man himself- tall, wound in enemy muscle, movements like a gun stream as he ran toward Japan waving and smiling...and wearing bright red, white and blue boxers. Japan flushed slightly and looked away toward the sea, tried to direct his mind elsewhere.
"Heyo! Japan!" America greeted brightly, catching his breath on a corner of silence.
"Oh, hello, America-san," Japan responded, looking back to America- his eyes askance and asking.
"So you're in Hawaii again! Jeez you come here a lot- you shoulda called me! I was here too," America said, giving Japan a brief hug.
Japan tensed a little, but was pretty much used to the Western barrage of affection by now (aside from that, America must have been swimming- he was dripping wet onto Japan's clothes). "Ah, yes- I, well, feared that you might have been- busy..." Japan responded, omitting the fact that previous excursions with America had raised his blood pressure considerably.
"Aw, never too busy to see a friend!" America grinned. Something in that grin flashed like cheap drugstore lights, tacky and lonely as night, and Japan subconsciously smiled.
America's expression changed; he looked out on the sea with his expression slightly grayed. "I forgot what I was going to say," he said with a small pout. Japan blinked in confusion. Did that mean he wanted him to help?- or would that be unwarranted, was he just saying that...but how could he help, anyway? He took out his lighter again, ruminating steadily on this point-
And then America's eyes flashed brightly. "Ah! That's right! I came to tell you that this," he said, taking the cigarette from Japan's mouth lightly, "is not allowed in Hawaii anymore!"
Japan blinked, and his heart dropped low. "...Smoking cigarettes?"
America nodded with a bright child's smile- holding the cigarette as though teasing a dog.
"P-please explain!" Japan cried, flustered. Smoking was banned in his beloved Hawaii!? How was this possible!? But smoking was- half of Japan's men smoked, for God's sake!
A sea breeze lifted over the star sand and America laughed. "Yep! The bosses in Hawaii decided it'd be bad for the environment," he said; then thoughtfully put a finger to his lips, "But that's only in public places."
"...So...ah, I see," Japan replied thoughtfully, wondering how else he could enjoy himself while just sitting around in Hawaii. He could...watch clouds or...
America laughed. "Hey, well, it's not so bad- only in public places, like I said. Hey, I have a house here- why don't you come back to my place?"
"I don't- I don't have such lewd hobbies!" Japan stammered, the red rising onto his face.
America tipped his head curiously. "Eh?"
"I- I mean- I'm...perhaps later," Japan replied in defeat. He didn't have enough fingers to count how many days he was assaulted and embarrassed by Western culture. Teeth, maybe. Definitely not fingers.
America smiled and put a hand on Japan's shoulder. "Well, uh, whaddya wanna do instead?" he asked; stretched his arms over his head with a catlike movement.
Japan paused, moved to put away his lighter. "I'm fine to just stay here; do you have any ideas, America-san?" He gave America a quick, appraising glance. America grinned. "My cigarette, please," Japan said, extending his hand.
"Heh. Here ya go!" America said, handing the cigarette to Japan sunnily. He watched as Japan put the cigarette back in the Seven Stars box very methodically, precisely- quite like an old man would, used to habit. America laughed. Japan looked up at him through his bangs, eyes wondering. America just shrugged. "I wanna go for a swim. Wanna come?"
Japan looked out to the sea- slim dark lines rolling onto the shore. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you," he said, "I'll just stay behind and watch."
"Okay! Oh, hold my glasses for me?"
So Japan found a place to sit on the sand, and the pink was creeping into the blue sky as America ran silhouetted out to the sea. The air was getting low and humid- the sun was getting ready to fall. He watched America get beat up, tossed around, by the rough chopping waves. Stumbling around like a happy puppy often getting tumbled- sometimes disappearing down beneath the tide, and sometimes standing against a crushing blow like some king.
Japan took some pictures back at the shore, some of the beach and the palms, a couple of America- just a couple...and he was feeling a vague thought- wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he decided to push it away. The sun was on the set when America finally came back.
Japan reached up to give him his glasses. "Sure you don't wanna swim?" America asked, putting them back on. "The waves are great-"
"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," Japan answered.
"Alright, then! Let's see those pictures," America said brightly, snatching the camera away- Japan blushed heavily, feeling stupid for letting America notice he even had a camera...but America seemed to think nothing of it- just scrolled through the pictures with scattered interjections like, "Wow, you're handy with a camera," and "Holy crap! I look so freaking awesome in this picture!"
America decided they should go get some drinks, and Japan of course complied. The night crowd was coming out and the brushed through the desultory crowd- all people who were lost and happy. A hot night breeze swept through the spaces between- America looked at Japan with a smile in his eyes. "You like Hawaii, huh?"
Japan smiled- eyes still shaded, so America couldn't tell what kind of smile it was. "Very much so," he responded enthusiastically, as they came onto the pavement by the shore.
"That's good," America hummed, feeding a vending machine near them a dollar. He pressed a button and looked up at Japan through scattered bangs. "So, uh,- how are you?"
Japan looked at America askance- eyes surprised by the strange, sudden tone of America's voice. "Oh, fine, I suppose- and you?"
"I'm okay," America responded, and handed Japan a white can. America was ever himself- deciding for others what they'd like.
But Japan didn't really mind, because he mostly agreed with America anyway. He took the can with a nod and a "thank-you" and waited for America to get his drink.
So America pushed another dollar into the machine, then pressed a button- the can clattered down with a metallic sound thumping through the gut of the machine, and America leaned down to get it...then cleared his throat. Japan looked over to him curiously. "So, uh, actually. I was thinking, while I was swimming out there," America began, the words cagey and hurried- a little uncomfortable. He paused. His eyes met Japan's, quiet and starry. There was a hiss and metal click as Japan opened the can, movements expecting but gentle.
"I was thinking that I must have- I musta sounded like a huge perv when I ast you to- hang out with me," America finally said with a booming laugh, opening his can likewise. Japan's eyes flattened- that was what he was nervous about? "And I uh know that you're more I guess- conservative? Is that the word? - conservative, then, than me. So I just wanned to apologize."
Japan paused, and then smiled- smiled like salt and carnation blooms. "Oh, it's alright," he said, laughing smally at how America could be such a kid. "I wouldn't mind going back to your house, anyway."
An awkward pause ensued. With each silent second, the blush crept slow back on Japan's face, and America finally let out a laugh. "Hey, Japan, are you sure you're not-"
"Shh," Japan responded quick, with a slight smile and roll of the eyes.
America smiled- it was nice to see Japan with his guard down, if even for a moment. "Whatever, then. Well, here's to you visiting! You should come more often," America said, saluting Japan by way of iced tea can.
Japan tipped his can similarly. "Yes, Hawaii's very beautiful," he said, but there was some other tact reason that just blew by in the island breeze.
The sun was in Malibu mode, colored like gambling flamingoes false in the heat; the gentle air was burning around them, and each was thoughtless- maybe just happy, maybe that was it. Content just to drink lilikoi iced tea beneath the raging veil of palm and sea, content to have company, to get to know some hidden heart.
title: Last Night Blues
pairing: SpainXRomano
rating: PG-13
summary: Romano was a coward, and nothing scared him more than the heat of Spain's touch...
LAST NIGHT BLUES
"You're a rat," Romano bit, and his acid flush was romance red as he looked down on Spain- legs tangled around hips, quiet in the warm evening air. Spain just laughed sheepishly, smiled with a knife's edge flashing in the white...reached a summer-colored hand to muss Romano's hair. Romano huffed, Romano was dissatisfied-
Romano was dissatisfied, he was trying to brave this storm but inside he was choking...these waves of cold were setting him with a nervous feeling, and his hands were shaking. Something like windy ecstasy was passing through his blood, cutting into his bones like light- and his heart was pounding something furious, hammering into his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up-
"You're just a rat in too-big shoes," he managed to stammer. Spain was usually dumb as fuck, but he turned sharp at all the wrong times- he looked up to Romano with knowing eyes and a small frightened sound pushed through Romano's mouth. Romano was a coward and nothing scared him more than this hot closeness, this faltering weakness. All at the hands of a man who was childish and thick and so stupid, whose gaze was slightly smug because he'd known it would happen all along (but his eyes were strong and slow as chocolate)...
"Jus- just who the Hell do you think you- are, anyway?" Romano spat, clenching angrily at Spain's hair...Spain smiled into a kiss, tilted his head up just for that starry sweet touch- Romano was between a nightmare and a dream as he felt Spain's fingers clutch his waist. Spain was a living heart attack. His mouth was hot for spice and his breathing was a sin, and that made Romano hate him. Romano hated to be weak.
"-Talk to me, goddamn you," Romano said, mouth full of ice and war.
Spain laughed as he shifted his weight, moved strong, hands sliding from Romano's waist to his hips...Romano'd been on the top, now was on bottom, Spain was gaining the upper hand quickly. It was clear that tonight, Romano'd be the loser. "Talk to me with your eyes," Spain said sunnily, happily, like it was a casual everyday thing, "With touch and silence. That's talking, too." A strange feeling cut through Romano, so he stole one kiss with the force and greed and imperative hunger of a man dying in desert heat-
And Romano said, "I wish I never fuckin' met you," as the night descended into soft secrets, and their eyes met like cigarette smoke and fire gold.
yitle: One Big Happy Family
characters/pairings: Germany, Prussia, Italy, Austria; slight GerXIta
rating: PG-13
summary: Germany wakes up one morning and Prussia's hovering over him, just being his awesome self. Good way to start a morning? How 'bout a heart attack?
ONE BIG HAPPY FAMILY
Soft sun was full and heavy, making circles in Germany's dreams...his vision blurred as he opened his eyes, dissecting colors and shapes from black formlessness.
Wait, wait, wait. Those colors shouldn't be there. Neither should that shape. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes, but his arm was stopped short by- somebody's hand...
"Ah!" said the form with bright red eyes which was sitting on top of Germany and shouldn't have been. "So, you're awake, huh? You lazy bum. Guess what, West?"
Germany paused; Germany coughed. He looked up to Prussia with a deflated expression. Prussia and Italy (because he knew Italy was here)? "...Yes, what?" Germany got out, voice raspy.
"I'm so awesome that I'm thinking of becoming a scientist," Prussia grinned lopsidedly, leaning down slightly.
Germany's mind was running checks and computations, such as "why is he in my bed," "what's the easiest ay to get him out of my bed," "what do I need to do today," and "I wonder if Italy is awake." So he didn't have much faculty to yell at Prussia at the moment. "...Explain," he finally said.
Prussia let out a sardonic laugh- the kind of laugh that looks down on someone. Germany rolled his eyes slightly. "'Cuz, I came to a real scientific conclusion," Prussia sighed smugly. "Okay, so lissen well, brosky, 'cuz it's a difficult subject.
"So I was lookin' in the mirror this morning and I was like, 'Could there ever be anybody as awesome as me?'- 'cuz you know it would worry me. How could anybody be as awesome as me? So I got down to checking off all the things that make me wonderful. And then I said to myself- you know, all this awesomeness couldn't be contained in any other form than myself. If somebody else was as awesome as me, they'd probably implode." He tipped his head up a little- put a thoughtful hand to his lips, and looked down at Germany knowingly. "Wanna know why, bromosexual?"
Germany wasn't sure he actually did want to know, but it was morning and he'd like to be done with this as soon as possible (on a side note, it worried him that he was able to completely gloss over being called "bromosexual"). "...Why, brother?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Because I'm just that awesome," Prussia said, and his eyes lit in a mad way- his teeth flashed in the morning sun.
A flare of irritation sparked in Germany's eyes; the corner of his mouth twitched. "So essentially, you got absolutely nothing accomplished this morning," he observed.
"Hu-huh?" Prussia responded indignantly.
Germany sighed. He sat up, pushing Prussia off him gently as he moved. "Never mind. Would you like anything in particular for breakfast?" he asked, getting up from the bed and started toward the bathroom- mind running like clockwork already, disregarding that small bit of inanity on Prussia's part.
"PANCAKES!" Prussia yelled like a gleeful little kid, and threw one of Germany's pillows at the bathroom door.
"Al-alright, just don't make a mess!" Germany snapped irritably, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back on the bed. Prussia rolled around on the covers, laughing maniacally, not listening to Germany, and chanting "WIN WIN WIN WIN" over and over again.
Germany grit his teeth and closed his eyes, counted to ten so as to ameliorate his frustration. Then- because of all the noise, probably- something beneath the covers stirred. Something groggy, hungry, and Italian. "Ehh? What's with the noise?" Italy's voice was muffled beneath the sheets.
Prussia's head perked up and he stopped short in his self-absorbed mess-making. Italy cooed and yawned under the sheets- then popped his head out, looking around. "Germannyyyy, you're up already? Come baaaack..." He paused- then looked to Prussia beside him and smiled brightly. "Ah, hello, Prussia! Good morning!"
Prussia's eyes flashed and he positively grinned. "Heeey, cutie!" he exclaimed, pouncing on Italy and hugging him fiercely- Germany felt another wave of irritation flare in his blood. "What's up, what's up! I didn't know you were here! Hey, West is gonna make us pancakes!"
"Ah! I like pancakes!" Italy said, looking up at Prussia (and still not entirely aware of who "West" was).
"Yep, after that OCD freak washes up- say, let's do something fun in the meantime," Prussia grinned, and then moved to-
Or at least tried to move, but was stopped short by Germany's firm grasp on his arm. "Also, don't do that," he commanded flatly, then went off into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Prussia rose an eyebrow. "Jeez, what a joykill," he remarked annoyedly- then began to rip the stuffing out of Germany's pillow as vengeance. "Well, West just doesn't fully grasp how great I am," he reasoned.
"Ah, Germany, you're showering?" Italy called, sitting up in bed. "You know, France once told me to save water and shower with a friend!"
Prussia looked up from his methodical destruction toward Italy. "Don't listen to anything that loser says," he bit, "Also, help me with this."
Germany sighed as he turned the water on- listened to the sigh of the heating pipes and the hiss of the steady stream. Italy and Prussia- what a wonderful way to start the day. It was nice to have company and all, but why did it always happen that his "company" was either psychotic or...Italy? He shook his head. The only way this morning could get worse was if Austria-
And as if on cue, he heard an impatient knocking on the door. "Yes?" he called, over the water.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm up now," Austria said, "And that my tea doesn't make itself.- Hey, what are you- did that used to be a pillow?...Idiots."
Germany sighed heavily.
title: Germany, Italy, The Morning, & The Highway
pairing: GerXIta
rating: PG
summary: On a trip to Spain's house, Italy takes a good look at Germany.
GERMANY, ITALY, THE MORNING, & THE HIGHWAY
The highway was deserted on all sides, just the typical morning traffic: this northern Spanish landscape, dry rocks and whispers of nothing, abstract green lush in the sun. A place like this just felt like a dream...
Other types of savage trucks were speeding on by, making deadlines and deliveries; and apart from the regulars, one shining black G-Wagen like a monster crab climbing over the black ribbon road- Germany and Italy, on the road to Spain's house for a visit.
"Germannyyyy," Italy whined, breaking a silence that was never really there to begin with, touching the passenger seat window tentatively. He looked over to Germany at the wheel- eyes in a soft light but looking hard and straight ahead- jawline set and cat slim. Italy paused. "Germannnyyy-"
"Yes, what?" Germany answered, still looking ahead.
"I'm hungry- let's stop!" Italy suggested brightly, touching Germany's arm- for some reason, maybe persuasion, maybe just for touch.
Germany paused, eyebrows furrowed, and took a quick glance out his window. "...Italy, this is the middle of nowhere," he replied.
Italy paused, and looked out his own window- saw nothing but Green Spain rolling by like a surrealist's dream. "Ah, that's right," he answered, disappointedly.
Germany rose an eyebrow, looking over to Italy. "Hold out a bit longer.- Wait, what happened to those things I brought?" Germany asked, eyes suddenly suspicious.
Italy paused, then let out a flitting, nervous laugh. "Ah, well, hah- funny thing about those-"
"You finished them already?!" Germany balked, in honest shock. It was a whole bag full of food- he rationed it out, reasoned that it should last them the drive down to Spain's house- plus that time they stopped to eat at France's house...And Italy had devoured all of it already...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Italy exclaimed, "It wasn't enough, though..."
Germany's eyes softened; his face fell to an expression of defeat. "Well, it's fine," he said, voice a bit rainy, and reached over to muss Italy's hair. It was still awkward for him to connect with touch- with feeling- but Italy didn't seem to notice the hesitation in his movements, so it didn't really matter. "We need gas anyway, so I'll get you something if the station has a convenience store."
Italy's face brightened; he took Germany's arm hostage as he lunged forward to hug him- "Yay! Thank you!" Germany's eyes snapped open in surprise, and he had no time to regain his balance- squished against the window, partially blinded by Italy's hair, hands falling helplessly off the wheel-
"ITALY I'M DRIVING!" Germany barked, taking Italy by the shoulder and slamming him back in his seat.
"Oww," Italy whined, nursing his shoulder, fidgeting miserably in his seat.
"And put your seat belt on! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?"
Italy paused- took a good look at Germany: so serious, eyes razor sharp, mouth worried- and his whining died off, fell quick into happy, melody laughter. "Yessir!" he replied vigorously, snapping his seat belt closed.
"Y-you..." Germany muttered underneath his breath, glancing at Italy- but then just shook his head. His hands tightened around the wheel and he tried to regain the balance in his nerves, sped up a little. Cool air was like a bullet train- empty scenery and a sky as blue as sea flashed by: the car burned on the morning tar...
"Do you want anything in particular?" Germany asked, voice a low current as he opened the door.
"Make it a surprise!" Italy chimed, waving his hands enthusiastically- that mysterious language of gestures he employed that Germany still didn't understand. His smile was all sunshine and warm sea, but Germany's mind was elsewhere: tidying things up, getting out his wallet...so the intention was lost, and Italy leaned forward, hand on the driver's seat armrest. "Also, also- could you check if they have like a sunglass rack?"
Germany looked up to him, eyes considering; he nodded. "Why?"
"I forgot mine."
"Alright," Germany answered, then looked up to Italy with that stern stony look he had whenever he wanted Italy to listen. He cleared his throat. "Stay here, okay? And don't talk to anybody." Italy took a glance outside, past Germany- the only people around were big scary truckers and old dudes, so he understood the reasoning behind that. "If something's wrong, my phone is on-"
Italy broke through Germany's stream of words with a bright, bubbling laugh- Germany was such a worrywart- "Got it!" he piped, sing-song; then unbuckled his seat belt and leapt forward, hugging Germany tightly. "See yaaaa, Germany- don't worry, I'll stay put!" Germany patted him on the back, as if to say, "alright, alright," and Italy was about to move back to his seat- but he paused, caught a scent at Germany's neck, and lingered thoughtfully. "Oh, you smell good. You use cologne, Germany?"
"E-eh?" Germany coughed nervously, pushing Italy away slightly, looking off to the side. "N-no...I mean, yeah...I'm going then- lock the doors, okay?" Italy didn't notice the slight slant of his words- the nervousness...
"Yeah!" Italy nodded. Germany pushed the door closed- back turned to the window as he lifted the gas nozzle from its place...Italy rolled down the passenger seat window and leaned out (well dangled out- his torso was completely outside of the window), completely ignorant of the fact that Germany was busy. "Heeey-"
Germany jumped a little- only slightly, but enough electric shock to tell he was surprised. He looked back over to Italy, seemed to be in the throws of some nervous shake. "What is it?" he snapped.
"Is Germany nervous?"
"What would I be nervous about!"
Italy smiled- "I dono, maybe all the big scary dudes- but you're all macho and stuff, you can take them!" he said determinedly. Germany's expression deflated as Italy went on. "I was gonna say though, don't get anything lame- like don't get something that looks stupid."
Germany raised an eyebrow- turned back toward the numbers changing on the machine, eyes slim. "Okay," he nodded.
"Just think of me when you buy them!"
"I- I will, just get back in the car!" Germany answered- feeling full the knowing smiles, the chuckles, of the men nearby.
Italy laughed and shuffled back into his seat- rolled up the window...and so Germany was off again, finished up that crap and headed inside the station at a half-jog to pay for the gas, to make Italy's present wanton wishes come true easier. Italy sat for a moment, bored; reached out a hand to flick on the radio, then sighed and watched the sky outside the window.
Thought of painting it maybe- thought also the clouds looked like some kind of food. Cotton candy? No, not really. Maybe just a food all their own- clouds should be food. They'd probably taste light, sweet, subtle...
Light, sweet, subtle- for some reason the words struck him funny, and his mind paused; but he just turned his eyes down fro the sky and watched the people go by. Spain's people were all funny- they had something about them that had to do with the sun, and lucky money, maybe...
"There's my favorite melody/ You, my angel, phoning me," he sang to himself, tapping on the dashboard. Man, he was hungry...
A trucker started up- the beats had teeth, poured out smoke as the engine rattled and purred. The sun was beginning to cut through the clear, cool air...Where was Germany? He started to feel a little lonely, so he stared intently at the station door- like that would make Germany magically appear...
He had to wait a couple of minutes, he counted by the songs that whispered past his ears. The slick glass door pushed open and Germany came out, holding a plastic bag in one hand, his wallet and a receipt in the other.
Italy watched, suddenly intent- mind set on seeing Germany for a moment- thoughts suddenly lulled to some warm static. Germany paused to put the receipt into his wallet, put his wallet back in his pocket; Italy laughed at how he was so orderly, so fixed, how he moved so precisely...the truckers nearby were laughing about something and Germany seemed set apart from their laughter.
He crossed the lot, waiting for a convertible to go by. Italy watched him walk- cool, with thought behind his movements, and every line- his jaw, the plane of his shoulders- was sleek and streamlined. He paused in his walk; smoke passed by, drifted behind him like clouds, and he reached a hand up to pull one of his driving gloves tighter- in lines of time that seemed like rain he smoothed back his hair slightly.
He seemed to be thinking of something- he always did. Italy paused; he should paint Germany, sometime...
Germany meant a lot to him, he suddenly thought. He leaned against the window, and he didn't try to sort out these lawless feelings that were pink inside the sighing of his chest- that had something to do with the smoke, the morning sun, and Germany...
The driver's seat door opened. Germany handed Italy the plastic bag. Italy took it with a distracted, "Thank you!" and didn't bother to look inside it for a moment.
Germany set about fixing things again- had to have things just so to be comfortable. He slid into the driver's seat, closed the door behind him...his eyes flickered to the radio; he put a hand tentatively on the key- but-
He noticed Italy staring at him. He paused, eyes shifting to Italy- Italy just sat looking happy, welcoming, a little something else- looking suspicious. Suspicious, because Italy was quiet as he stared at him. "...Wha-what? Is there something wrong? The food, I mean- or the sunglas-"
Italy leaned over again, kissed Germany on the cheek with some warm, steady feeling that was different from the usual radiant bubbly cheer that he usually kissed Germany with. "Eh? What's this about?" Germany asked, but didn't push Italy away.
"Nothing!" Italy answered, voice just a bit too low, just a bit too flushed with some foreign feeling, "I just wanted to kiss you."
The clouds covered the sun, veiled the air inside the car. Germany said nothing- Italy took that as asking and so he kissed him again, nearer to the mouth- further from the mind and closer to the body, full of heart. "Thank you, by the way," Italy said. Germany laid his hand on Italy's hair for a moment- brushed through it...he bit his lip thoughtfully, looking at Italy's eyes, then looking straight away.
"-The sunglasses?" he asked, distracted.
Italy laughed and nodded, giving no hints to his mind- his subtle changes of mood, the reasons he did things, still eluded Germany. There was no logic at all...Italy rifled through the plastic bag cheerfully (with an interjection like, "No waaaay- they sold this here!")...then took out the sunglasses- big and round, glinted dull in the morning light. "Ah, I like these," Italy said, with a lazy cheer, handing them to Germany so he could remove them from the packaging. Germany snapped the plastic, heart still rushing, and handed them back to Italy. He smiled and put them on like he was some kind of spy or something. "Do I look good? Eh?" he asked, poking Germany's arm.
"Yeah," Germany said, with a small smile and nod. He didn't see any reason to forget the kiss- the hushed tones of Italy's voice- but he didn't see any reason to worry about it, either. It was what it was, he guessed, and that was okay for now: he shifted the car into drive and started off. The car clambered slow back onto the highway, and Green Spain flashed by through knives of sun and cloud logic.
NOTES;;
1] I was reading an article on how smoking was banned in public places in Hawaii & the douchebag writer was like "I wonder what affect this'll have on Japanese tourists since 50% of Japanese men smoke and there lots of Japanese tourists go to Hawai & blah blah I'm a douchebag", so that's where I got this idea.
2] lilikoi = passion fruit (HAWAIIAN SUN LILIKOI ICED TEA FTW)
3] "Last Night Blues" is a song by Lightnin' Hopkins that fits that fic well :D
4] The G-Wagen is a Mercedes-Benz.
5] German cars have that little gas thingy on the passenger side, so that's why he rolled down the passenger side window and not the driver's side window.
6] "Green Spain" is Northwest Spain. I have zero idea about geography & highways & whatnot, & it makes no logical sense, but yknow. That's how I roll.
Thanks for reading! :D