o2o

This was one of the few times I really considered creating an alliance with one of the countries. (And don’t say ‘but you’re with them so much, you must be allies with the axis powers!’ You’re wrong. I just like to hang with them, is all. I like inconsistency between the nations) I know, by now, you’ve probably figured out how big of a horn ball I am, but hey, even I have my moments with romance.

It was almost time for Germany and Austria to depart, well, after the big military parade, that is. Italy and I pushed our way through the throngs ) of large, robust Germans towards our beloved Germany. The one and only Germany.

Italy gave him some food, and a heartfelt pep-talk that even convinced our tall, strapping Germany to smile. Don’t be too shocked, it didn’t last long, for Italy’s tears upset him a moment later. After a minute or two I decided that adorable Italy needed to go away for a bit, and I pointed out a few cute girls admiring some flowers in a window. As soon as he was gone I smiled back up at Germany.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, frowning, “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet thus far…” I shook my head and smiled, curiously pulling his uniformed hat from his head. He cocked an eyebrow at me, resisting the urge to scold me. I guess he was curious as to what I had planned to do next (Honestly, so was I). After a minute of staring, I placed the hat back on his head gently.

“You look younger with your hat on.” His face soured and I gasped, realizing what that sounded like, “Oh, no! I’m not calling…you…old…” By now we had our eyes fixed. Two sets of blue orbs locked, both trailing the other’s movements.

And then, only lord knows why, we kissed.

o19

One day I went to Japan’s house with Italy to soak in the hot springs. Much to Japan’s relief and Italy’s displeasure, there were two hot springs, separated by a large rock. I could soak separate from the boys.

At some point into my bath I heard Italy asking Japan about making miniatures, like the submarines he’d made for Germany. And then I heard what I’m pretty sure was a reference to Japan’s junk: Italy was calling it small.

Japan wasn’t happy and he called on a giant robot thing to ‘attack’ Italy.

I smiled to myself, remembering something I once heard my mom say on the subject of my father: Big things often come in small packages. It was all I could do to bite my lip, you know, to keep from breaking the freaking rock separating Japan and I.

o18

Somebody should really tell this desert island about Hawaii. Its warm there, just not here. The fire cracked slowly. The flames were beginning to die down to simmering coal and the smoke was keeping the insects away, at least.

Next to me, Italy was sprawled out on the sand, snoring. A crab he’d caught earlier was still clamped onto his hair. On my other side was Japan, laying flat as a board, his jacket covering his torso. At some point in the night my chattering teeth had woken Germany and now I was warm and cozy against his chest.

But then Japan and Germany woke up so suddenly that they scared me. Japan pulled his sword out, and Germany got his gun, much to my dismay. “The hell are you two doing?” I asked, already getting cold again.

“China! I choose you!” Lord, please let that be Latvia, or Canada, or Greece, or someone- anyone other than noisy America. Alas, my prayers went unanswered. By the time I looked up China was on top of Japan and they were going at it. What I don’t get is how Japan, who had a sword, lost to China, who had a freaking Wok.

And then Germany got taken out, and in midst of the chaos Italy was crying, waving that damn, home-made capitulation flag of his, and I’m pretty sure I felt someone grab my ass while I stood and watched the chaos unfold. Probably America.

And then, lord, the old fart (refer to drabble oo1) just had to pop up and add to the anarchy. I don’t know how but he rose from the freaking sea, with freaking women hanging off his freaking rock hard muscles. And somehow there was a spotlight on him coming from freaking no where in the night sky. And when he was gone Italy was the only one acting like seeing the greatest, albeit dead, Empire of all time raising from the sea to sing some totally random lyrics, with three women hot enough to make Taylor Swift go lesbo, was a perfectly common phenomenon.

But hey, I don’t keep track of what that kid eats before he goes to bed at night…

o17

I always thought Britain was particularly adorable. The honorifics and metaphors he uses have always been a sort of turn on, but not seriously. One day I thought I might go out to drink with him: I heard he’s a real animal when he’s got a few beers in his system! But when I rounded the corner I saw something I could have gone my entire life without seeing.

“Hey, stop that tickles!” he laughed, patting the air, “Oh, I love you guys so much,! You make me feel so relaxed! You take all my stress away!” He leaned over and hugged the air space next to him, then pretended to kiss something.

“And he says I’m weird…”

Suddenly America was next to me, shadows casting on his face. “That’s what I said…”

o16

After WW1 passed, Germany, for some, strange reason, took me out for a drink. Maybe it was because I could sympathize with poor Germany, he was in quite a bind. France was demanding 132 billion marks for reparation for the war, because, in that wimpy blonde‘s mind, it was all Germany’s fault. If the payments were late, France threatened to take over the Ruhr region.

“Can you believe it?!” Germany yelled, drunk out of his pants. Literally. He was sitting there at the booth, next to me, with no pants and what I’m pretty sure was a boner. Either that or he was so desperate for money that he was going to steal a bottle of alcohol. “The bastard is making me build cuckoo clocks for him! I hate cuckoo clocks!”

By now I’d finished my beer and wanted a second. And even though I noticed the price had doubled in just the few minutes we’d talking, probably because he was printing money at the same rate Russia metabolized alcohol, I ordered another. Hey, why not? It was all on Germany.

And I know that sounds diabolically evil, but that’s what the idiot gets for printing enough money to burn us a bonfire for five months straight.

o15

I didn’t particularly get along with Russia’s little sister, Belarus. We had a, um, hrm…well, rivalry of sorts.

A knife flew through the air and stuck to the wall by my head. “Work on your aim, Bel!”

“Only brother dearest calls me that!” she screamed, grabbing a pitch fork. I grabbed a shovel and we went at it like two Jedi, but without the cheesy sound effects.

“Enough with the incest! He’s taken!” I roared back, scratching her cheek. At some point we had both ditched our weapons and were rolling in the dirt bare-fisting it. Hair was pulled, teeth were knocked out, eyes were made black.

Poor Russia was stuck cowering the corner.

o14

I completely understood why Britain, America and the others would want to capture Italy. He was completely dependent on Germany, and, in turn, that would have given them the chance to capture Germany. But what I didn’t understand was why the took me too.

We were in the dog house- literally. “Might as well feed them.” Britain said, bringing Italy and I our food. The plates of food were placed in front of us rather unceremoniously. Italy took one bit and almost hurled.

“This food is awful!” he cried out. More for me. I took the food from his plate and dumped it onto mine. Hell, Germany had taught me to eat what I could when I was captured. Be resourceful and strong. Never give out information. Especially if they treat you this well, I thought, this is better than boot camp with Germany.

“Is my food that bad?” Britain asked. By now all of the other countries were gathering, wondering what to do with us, or rather, Italy.

“Can’t we just throw them in prison?” America asked.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” I said, a metaphorical light bulb clicking on over my head, “but I think I’d prefer slavery.” I cast dirty glances between all the countries.

America spun around, beaming, “Anybody got a twenty I can borrow?!”