Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Cross-posted from Ao3

Gertalia Events Title: That’s Amore!
Recipient: clara (budgeridoo)
Type of gift: Fic
Rating: R 18
Author: kira
Chars/Pairs: Germany/Italy, Prussia (hetalia)
Genres: romance
Warnings: none
Word Count: 7357
Summary: Germany wants to go out on a date with Italy, but is hesitant. After taking some advice from Prussia, he goes ahead and asks Italy out…
Author’s notes: The following was written for LJ’s Gertalia Events features snippets of a few Dean Martin songs. That’s Amore by Jack Brooks & Harry Warren, Everybody Loves Somebody by Hayley Taylor & Vasili Garve, Love Me, Love Me by Vic Abrams & Phil Medley, and Volare by Mitchell Parish, Domenico Modugno & France Migliacci.
For clara (budgeridoo)…

Germany sat on the sofa in the den, reading a book on dating. He wanted to try again with Italy, despite their disastrous Valentine’s Day date. Things had been awkward for a while, but were finally starting to get back to normal. They had been on several nice outings in the park, even if Prussia had insisted on coming along half the time; it was still the closest they had come to a date since then. So Germany decided to do some research since he desperately wanted to try again. He was so engrossed in his book that he never heard Prussia walk into the room.

“Hey, West! Was machst du?” he asked as he sat on the sofa.

“Reading…” Germany was determined to ignore him.

“Whatchya readin’?” Prussia leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse of his brother’s book.

“A book…”

“Imagine that, West,” Prussia said sarcastically. “A book on what?’

Germany felt the color rising in his cheeks. “A book on dating,” he mumbled softly.

“Dating?!” Prussia laughed. “Forget the book and just ask Itachen out.” He chuckled as he called Berlitz up onto the sofa. “You do realize that you and Itachen go on dates all the time, although, most people wouldn’t call them dates per se…” Prussia rambled on, “but it works for you two, so there.” He beamed at his brother.

Germany was not amused. Ignoring his brother’s ramblings about dating, he said tersely, “What have I told you about the dogs on the furniture?”

“Not to let them up there, but you let Germania Gatto and Gilbird, so why not Berlitz? Look at her. How can you resist such a cute lil puppy?” he said as she licked his face.

Germany sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. “I want things to go better this time,” he said softly.

“So listen to me when I tell you to ditch the book and just ask him out. That’s where you went wrong before, West,” Prussia said. “Remember all those fun times in the park with the dogs?”

“Yeah…?” Germany wondered where this was leading.

“They were fun, spontaneous times. And…” Prussia paused for effect, “you didn’t need a book to tell you what to do and they were awesome!! I should know, I was there.” He grinned.

Germany nodded. “But…”

“But nothing, West. Just ask him out.” Prussia shifted slightly and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket. Handing it to his brother he said, “Here, call him.”

“I-I can’t.”

Prussia heaved a long suffering sigh. “How is possible that I raised you to be awesomely strong, but you still wuss out when it comes to asking Itachen out on a date?”

Germany gave him a look. “This is from the man whose idea of a date is to go out drinking and come home either hung-over the next day, or still rip-roaring drunk? And a really good date is one where he gets hit upside the head with a frying pan,” he said dryly.

Prussia rolled his eyes. “At least I go on dates, West, and don’t read about them.”

Germany blushed again and went back to reading his book.

Prussia sighed. “West, if you’re so determined to ‘research’ it, then do yourself a favor and at least look it up online, instead of reading this outdated thing.” He reached over and took the book. “Seriously. Wait, I’ll get my laptop and help you.” Prussia got up, book in hand, and left the room, leaving a bewildered Germany in his wake. He returned a few minutes later with his laptop. Prussia opened a new window and typed in the URL for Wiki’s “how to plan the perfect date” site. Once it loaded, he handed the laptop to his brother. “There you go, West. It’s practically foolproof! Follow this and you and Itachen will be having your second ‘real’ date before this one’s over.”


“Yeah. So happy reading.” Prussia smiled. “I think I’ll be an awesome big brother take the dogs out for a walk and give you some ‘me time’ so you can study without interruptions.” With that, he called the dogs as he left the room.

Germany sighed as he started perusing the site. It was actually not as bad as he feared, and after getting up to go get a notebook and pen, he sat back and read. Germany would pause every so often and jot down a few notes. By the time his brother had returned, he had a plan for the perfect date with Italy. To make things even better, he looked at Prussia’s bookmarks and found several places where he could download a few MP3s of Italian music that he emailed to himself along with some music he found on his brother’s desktop. Closing the laptop, he left it on the coffee table in the den along with his notebook, before heading into the kitchen to make dinner.

Prussia found the laptop, after dinner, where Germany had said it was. Spotting his brother’s notebook, he took a minute to read it. Satisfied that site was not only helpful, but that his brother actually learned something from it, he set it back down where he had found it and left the den. On his way downstairs to his room, Prussia heard Germany talking on the phone. He chuckled. From the way the one-sided conversation was going, he knew in a heartbeat Germany was on the phone to Italy and that he was asking him out on a date.

The next week and a half found Germany trying out various pasta dishes for dinner as he struggled to find one that was easy to make, yet still tasted good. He tried everything from fettuccini Alfredo to pasta primavera to spaghetti Bolognaise. Germany even made shrimp scampi as he knew his little buddy liked seafood as much as he did pasta. When it came to Italian desserts, he had a much better time of it as he preferred baking to cooking. It was while he was looking up a recipe for tiramisu, that Germany stumbled on a recipe for lasagna. While reading it over, he was surprised to learn how easy it was to make and decided then and there, that that was what he was making for dinner. All he needed was a salad and a bottle of wine to complete the meal. A faint frown settled on his features, when he realized he also needed to get his brother out of the house too.

“What’s the matter, West? Germania Gatto have hairballs again?” Prussia said as he breezed in from the kitchen, a couple of beers in hand. He handed one to his brother.

“No,” Germany heaved a long suffering sigh as the last thing he wanted to be reminded of was nasty coughed up wads of cat hair all over the place. “And the dogs aren’t sick and Gilbird has avoided getting eaten by Germania Gatto.” He sighed a bit softer this time. “The problem is, I’ve…” He looked up into his brother’s expectant face. “Can you go… can you go out on Friday? And ummm… you know, make yourself scarce?”

Prussia chuckled. “You asked Itachen out, didn’t you?!” Grinning from ear to ear, he added, “Of course I’ll go out. Besides, it’s movie night at France’s house and I make a point of never missing that. I was planning on staying over too, so don’t worry; I won’t be here to mess up your date. So is he staying for the night?”

Danke…” Germany let out a sigh of relief as he ignored the nosey questions his brother proceeded to pepper him with. Normally having Prussia around while Italy visited was no big deal, but this was different. He was going through all the trouble of planning a romantic dinner for two and the last thing he wanted was his brother hanging around, chatting up Italy, and telling him how awesome it was that his baby brother finally asked him out. A dozen different scenarios flashed through his head involving having his brother there during his date and they all ended in disaster. Now that Prussia was going to be out at France’s, all Germany had to worry about were the little things. He groaned softly. What if Italy doesn’t like the lasagna…? Or the wine…? Or the dessert…?

“You okay, West?”

Germany nodded at him.

“Whatever it is you’re worried about, and don’t give me that look, I know you’re worrying, don’t. It’ll be awesome.” Prussia grinned. “Just treat it like any other day, West. Oh and, West?”


“Breathe.” When his brother glared at him in response, Prussia knew everything was going to be alright. As much as he wanted to get his laptop and blog about it as his brother’s romantic misadventures always scored a ton of hits, he refrained from doing so. He figured there was time enough for that when the date was over and he heard all about from him.

When the day of his big date with Italy finally arrived, Prussia, true to his word, had packed a backpack full of the stuff he needed. After giving Germany some useless advice, he left with Gilbird chirping happily on his shoulder. Germany watched him go and he stood in the doorway until Prussia was out of sight. Satisfied that his brother would not be coming back because he “forgot” something, and therefore spoiling his date with Italy, Germany closed the front door and hurried into his den. He sat at his desk and turned on his computer. While waiting for everything to load, he got up and made himself some coffee.

Germany returned a few minutes later, coffee cup in hand, and sat down. Opening his email, he quickly downloaded the songs he had found, burning them onto a CD. Once that was done, he opened a new window and typed in the URL of the dating site. He read it over. 1) Who? Italy… check, 2) what? Romantic Italian dinner… check, 3) Where… Here… check, 4) When… Tonight… check, 5) How? I’ll make the food, shower and change into a nice suit, or maybe just a simple dress shirt since Italy likes to dress casually, make sure the dogs are fed and walked beforehand, the cat needs to be fed too… he went through his mental check list, pleased that he never needed to use any of the ideas he found further down on the site.

Taking a deep breath, Germany, went into the kitchen and started making dinner. He was glad he had had the foresight to get up early and make the tiramisu that morning. Who am I kidding…? I only did that because I couldn’t sleep… With the lasagna sitting in the fridge, setting up, he fed the dogs and as soon as they were done eating, Germany grabbed their leashes and took them on a nice long walk, leaving Germania Gatto behind with a bowl of cat food.

As he walked the familiar streets, Germany let his thoughts drift to Italy. He imagined the two of them seated at the kitchen table, the red and white checked tablecloth that Italy gave him covering it, and an old Chianti bottle with a green candle stuck in the neck, burning brightly and casting a warm glow on their faces like the scene from that old Disney movie about the two dogs that fell in love and kissed over a plate of spaghetti. Germany sighed. The movie may have been odd Christmas present from America, but it turned out to be a favorite of theirs and Germany wondered if they should watch it after dinner. He wondered if he should move the coffee table aside so he and Italy could dance to the songs on the CD he had made. Knowing Italy, it was a sure thing he would be spending the night and Germany wanted to try being intimate again. Feeling his cheeks heating up, he coughed in a lame attempt at distracting himself.

Rounding the corner, Germany was surprised to see they were nearly home and five minutes later, he was back inside, and hanging up his coat. He made a beeline for the kitchen, after checking the time, and got out the lasagna. He popped it into the oven and just when he was about to turn the oven on, the phone rang. Closing the oven door, Germany went to answer it.


“Hey, West! How’s your date?”

“Italy isn’t here yet.”

“Oh… you don’t think he-”

Germany cut him off. “No, I don’t think he stood me up. Seriously, Brüder, I need to go shower and get ready and I don’t have time for your nonsense.” He sighed softly when he heard his brother talking to his friends. “I’m going, Brüder.

“Wait! Don’t hang up, West!

“I’d better be good, Prussia.”

“It is. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. That gives you a lot of leeway of what to do, since there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” Prussia laughed. “I’m awesome that way!”

“If you say so. Good-bye, Brüder.

“Bye, West!”

Germany hung up, as he did so, he made a mental note to let the answering machine pick up the calls once Italy got there. The last thing he wanted was drunken dating advice from his brother. Forgive me, Fraulein Hungary, but if he’s got to call someone up to have a drunken conversation with, let it be you… or better yet, Austria… He still owes me for that time I let him move in here… Germany double checked the time, and seeing that Italy was due to arrive in a half hour or so, he hurried upstairs to shower. Thanks to his idiot brother, he was starting to feel on edge and he hoped a shower would do him some good.

He already had his shirt unbuttoned by the time he walked into the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, Germany quickly stripped down, throwing his clothes in the hamper. He walked over to the bathtub, and turned on the taps, the water falling from the showerhead. As soon the water reached the correct temperature, Germany stepped inside. He let the water run over his body, easing the tension and nerves that threatened to overwhelm him. Squirting some shampoo into his palm, he washed his hair. His fingers deftly massaged away the beginnings of a headache, and feeling better, Germany did something he rarely did. He sang in the shower.

“When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie… That’s amore… When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine… That's amore…” It was one of the songs he had found on Prussia’s laptop and the silly lyrics had a definite calming effect on him as they reminded him so much of Italy. “Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling… And you'll sing, “Vita bella"… Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay… Like a gay tarantella…”

Germany rinsed the shampoo from his hair, and grabbing the soap, he began to lather it up. After putting it back in the soap dish, he ran his soapy hands over his body. That got him thinking about Italy and he started singing again. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie… That’s amore… When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine… That's amore…” He sang on, rinsing the soap from his body. “Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling… And you'll sing, “Vita bella"… Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay…” he faltered, thinking he heard giggling, “Like… a gay… tarantella…”

The giggle turned into a sweet, familiar tenor, and picking up where Germany left off, it continued, “When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool… That's amore… When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet… You're in love… When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not… Dreaming, signore… Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli… That's amore…”

“Italy…?” Germany cautiously pulled the shower curtain back and peeked out.

Ciao!” Italy beamed at him. “You have such a nice voice, Germany! Sing for me, please?” he said as he gave his friend his best cute and adorable look.

“Uh…” Germany blinked. He could feel his cheeks heating up as he stood there, letting the water run down his naked body. When a small part of his brain, that was still working, reminded him that he was naked, another part of his anatomy began to rise to the occasion. “Uh…” he croaked.

“Awe… Don’t be shy! If you want, I’ll sing with you!” Italy’s smile reminded him of angels and Germany somehow managed a feeble one in reply. “Oh good!” Italy started singing. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie… That’s amore… When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine… That's amore…”

Germany took a deep breath and slowly but surely, he began to join in.

“Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling… And you'll sing, “Vita bella"… Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay…” the two of them sang, “Like a gay tarantella…”

“When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool… That's amore… When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet… You're in love… When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not… Dreaming, signore… Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli… That's amore…” Germany sang by himself. Feeling silly, he continued, “That’s amore…”

“Bravo, Germany!” Italy clapped his hands. “That was wonderful.”


Prego!” Italy always loved it whenever Germany would try and speak Italian to him. The look of love he wore on his face, soon turned into concern. “Germany…?”


“Aren’t you getting cold?”


“The water… don’t you want to get out of the shower?”

Germany turned beet red. “Ja!

Italy grabbed the towel and held it out to him while Germany turned off the water. “Here.”

Germany, careful to fig leaf himself with the shower curtain, accepted the proffered towel. Turning his back on his friend, he gave himself a quick drying off, before wrapping it around his waist. The last thing he needed was Italy getting upset again over the size of a certain part his anatomy. Thankfully, the cold air in the bathroom that replaced the warmth of the shower did wonders for cooling his ardor. Feeling a bit more confident, he stepped out of the tub. “I need to get dressed and my clothes are in my room…”

“Okay.” Italy smiled.

Germany sighed and pushed past him. As he unavoidably rubbed against Italy, the smaller nation giggled. Germany felt his cheeks heating up again as it felt good, but he refused to dwell on such things. Opening the bathroom door, he stepped into the hallway and hurried to his room, Italy trailing along behind him. He had hoped to make it to his room alone, but Italy was determined to follow him like a lost puppy and Germany, unable to resist his little buddy’s charms, let him in.

Italy made himself at home on Germany’s bed. Germania Gatto was curled on it and it was not long before Italy had the smoky grey tom in his lap. He stroked the cat’s fur while his friend got out clean clothes. Italy, who had sketched Germany in various stages of undress, wished he had his sketchbook and pencil with him. He sighed softly, drawing his friend’s firm musculature in his head. He wondered if he stared long enough, he could remember the curve of his spine and his narrow waist as it contrasted with his broad shoulders. Then there was Germany’s firm, round butt and thick, muscular thighs.

Germany felt his little buddy’s eyes on him and he had the feeling Italy was drawing him in his head. Even though he had sat for him on several occasions, Italy’s intense stare, while he was drawing, still unnerved him. His cheeks heated up, especially when Germany removed the towel from his waist to dry the skin around his groin. He froze, thinking he heard a soft moan escape Italy’s lips. Chiding himself for being silly, Germany tossed the wet towel on the floor and grabbed his boxers. He quickly pulled them on. Now that he was properly covered, Germany relaxed enough to lean over and grab the towel off the floor. Towel in hand, he sat on the bed, drying his feet.

Italy smiled as he watched his friend. Now that Germany was sitting on the bed, he was close enough to touch and Italy longed to do so. But he knew from experience that that was the surest way to make Germany tense and a tense Germany was a flustered Germany, which always led to yelling and extra laps, instead of yummy gelato. So he admired the view, while pretending to be more interested in the purring cat on his lap. And when the dip in the bed signaled Germany was now standing, Italy quickly looked up. He was just in time to get a glimpse of those broad shoulders shrugging into a crisp, white shirt. “Need any help?”

Germany paused in buttoning up his shirt, and turning around, he said, “No, it’s okay. I-I’ve got it.” The faint blush, dusting his cheeks, deepened in color. He fumbled with the buttons, cursing softly in German.

“Oh, oaky… So what did you make for dinner?”


“Yeah?” Italy’s face lit up. “I love lasagna! I can’t wait to taste yours!”

“I made it this afternoon, so it would have time to set just like you said.”

“Good! I can’t believe you remembered to do that! Most people, who aren’t Italian, don’t know to do that!” Italy beamed at him. “I can’t wait to eat it! I bet it’s better than mine!” He thought it was cute at how red in the face Germany got over his compliment.

“Uh, I don’t know…”

“Don’t be so modest! I bet it’s ‘awesome’ as your brother would say.”

Germany nodded. “Ummm… let’s go downstairs so I can check on it.” He walked over to his dresser and picked up his watch, strapping on his wrist.

Italy muttered something too soft for Germany to hear in Italian to the cat. Germania Gatto yawned and got up off his lap. The cat stretched in that languid way cats do, before settling back in the warm spot Italy left behind when he got off the bed. Arm in arm with his friend, Italy went downstairs with him. They made their way into the kitchen, Aster following along, hoping to get a few belly rubs from Italy. The golden hovawart loved the little Italian, who was very fond of spoiling her.

Scheiße!” Germany roared when he looked in the oven.

“What’s the matter?!” Italy cried as he stood up and hurried over to the stove. He was about to give Aster a belly rub, and she was quick on her feet, barking.

Aster’s barks drew the other dogs, which came running and barking.

“SIT!” Germany said. All three dogs obediently sat and the barking mercifully stopped. He looked over at Italy. “I… I forgot to turn the oven on,” he sheepishly admitted, another blush dusting his cheeks.

“That’s it?” Italy made a small dismissive noise. He reached past his friend and turned it on. “So we eat a little bit later, it no big deal and now we can enjoy the Chianti I brought.”

“Yeah.” Germany got out the corkscrew and handed it to Italy. He made note of time while his little buddy opened the wine. Germany went and got out a couple of wine glasses from the set Italy had given him, holding them out to him.

Italy, taking the glasses from Germany, poured the wine. He set the bottle down on the counter and offered the second glass to his friend. Picking up his glass, Italy said, “Propino tibi!


They drank and any misgivings Germany had about dinner soon vanished while Italy rummaged around in his fridge. It was not long before they were enjoying a makeshift antipasto of German tidbits, which went surprisingly well with the Chianti, thanks to Italy’s ability of pairing the right food with the wine at hand.

As the wine flowed, Germany became more and more relaxed. He was even beginning to think his date was going to be a success. One of his rare smiles tugged the corners of his mouth upwards and Italy, catching sight of it, sighed. “Something wrong?” Germany said as he wondered what happened, since things were going so well.

“Nothing. You were smiling and you look so handsome when you smile.” Italy reached put and cupped his friend’s cheek. He giggled.

“Oh…” Germany said. Try as he might, he could not help leaning into his little buddy’s touch.

Italy patted his cheek and smiled. “So now that the antipasto and primo are taken care of, what are you making for the secondo and contorno?

“The what?” Germany frowned.

“The secondo and contorno, you know, the second course and the side dish.” Italy smiled.

Germany stared back at him with a look of panic on his face. “I thought all I needed was the lasagna, a salad, and a bottle of red wine…”

“Oh…” Italy frowned. “Well,” he said, brightening, “You’ve got the contorno, which is the salad, and what do you have in the fridge that we can turn into a meal?”

“Sausages, some potato salad Prussia made last night for dinner, and the leftover Wiener schnitzel.”

“Perfect! You still have some mozzarella and gravy left?”


“We’ll make veal Parmigiana out of it.” Italy smiled. He walked past Germany and took out the apron he always wore whenever he came over and cooked for the German brothers. After putting on the apron, Italy walked over to the fridge. He rummaged around, looking for the leftover veal cutlets, and finding them, he took them out. Bringing them over to the counter, he set them down, while he looked for a pan to put them in. “Germany, I need the cheese and the gravy!”

Germany hurried over to the fridge and took out the cheese. Handing it to Italy, he walked over to the pantry and took out a jar of Italy’s homemade sauce. “You want me to heat this up?”

“No, we’ll open it and just use what we need and the rest can go in the fridge.” Italy happily set to work, throwing together the impromptu second course. “Hey, Germany.”

“Thanks! This is such a fun date!” Italy handed him the mozzarella. “Just grate some on top.”

“It is?” Germany blinked.

“Yeah! I love cooking with you! Romano is never going to believe we made a real Italian dinner here!”


Italy nodded. “Okay… the lasagna should be ready and why don’t you take that out, and put this in. It’ll cook why we eat the primo!”

“Okay.” Germany exchanged the pans in the oven.

Italy stood next to the lasagna. He waved his hand over it, fanning the smell towards him and inhaling deeply. “It smells like Sunday dinners with Romano! Bravissimo!” Italy hugged his friend, kissing his cheeks.

Germany blushed. Flustered, he muttered softly in German, and after shooing Italy away, he cut two portions of lasagna. Italy went and sat down at the table, bringing the wine glasses with him, which he refilled. Germany brought the plates over and sat down. He waited with baited breath, while Italy took a bite.

E ‘bene! Così delizioso!” Italy raved in Italian. He chuckled.


“If Romano could taste this, he’d start calling you ‘Italian-bastard’ instead of ‘Potato-bastard’! Not even Spain makes Italian food this good!”

Germany felt his cheeks heating up. “Are you sure it’s that good?”

“Germany, you know, I’ve never lied to you, right?”


“Then why would I start now?” Italy smiled. He sipped his wine and dug into his meal.

Germany frowned until he realized his little buddy was right. A sheepish smile briefly tugging the corners of his mouth upwards, Germany finally relaxed. The amazing part of that was suddenly the meal tasted even better, and the wine was sweeter and the company… priceless.

After their first course was finished, Italy insisted on getting up and serving the second one. So while he did that, Germany got up and took out the green and potato salads along with little side plates. He also took out the salad tongs and a big spoon for the potato salad so that they could help themselves.

“Hey, Germany? Can we light the candle?”

“Sure.” Germany said as he took the matches off the shelf above stove and lit the candle that was stuck in the Chianti bottle. On his way back, from putting the matches away, he turned the lights off in the kitchen. The candle cast a warm romantic glow over the table while they ate.

“This is really good, Italy.”

Grazi! Although, you did the hard part of making the cutlets, all I did was add gravy and cheese.”

Germany smiled. Even though they lapsed into companionable silence, he did not mind. The food was good and company, even better. In fact, he considered it a miracle that things went so well. Even Prussia’s little nagging voice in his head about them acting like an old married couple, instead of young lovers, failed to put a damper on things.

Italy ate his last bite and patted his stomach, burping loudly. “That was the best meal ever!”

Danke…” Germany sipped his wine.

Bitte!” Italy said impishly.

His little buddy’s smile lit up his face and Germany sighed softly. Making Italy happy always left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. He sat there; seemingly unaware that he had his chin resting on his upturned palm while a dopey smile lent softness to his normally stern expression.

Italy gazed back at him just as lovingly. His fingers were itching to hold a pencil as he desperately wanted to sketch this moment so that he could have it forever. Instead, he settled for committing it to memory, figuring there would be time enough later for a quick sketch. Italy wondered if he could talk Germany into posing for him again. A fond childhood memory of painting Holy Roman Empire’s portrait that flitted through his mind was quickly replaced with one from last summer, when he got Germany to pose in the nude for him one hot, lazy, Italian summer afternoon.

“Do you have any room for dessert?” Germany asked as he got up to clear the table. “I made tiramisu.”

“You made tiramisu?”

Germany nodded. “I don’t know how good it is, though.”

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful! Let’s have some and then I’ll help you clean up.”

“Why don’t we clean up first and let the food settle a bit. You don’t want to get sick, do you?”


“Then help me do the dishes.” Germany unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He walked over to the sink and turned on the water. Getting out the dishpan, he placed it so that the water flowed into it and added some dishwashing liquid. When the suds began forming, he added their dinner dishes.

Italy got out a clean dishtowel and waited for Germany to hand him a clean plate. He hummed softly to himself, getting a shy smile out of his friend when he handed him the first plate to dry off. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie… That’s amore… When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine… That's amore…”

“That’s amore…” Germany sang softly as he handed his little buddy the other plate. He quickly washed the rest of the dishes, and grabbing another dish towel, helped Italy dry and put them away. It was like any other dinner when Italy was over and he briefly wondered if his brother was right about things needing to be spontaneous and unplanned as well as familiar.

“Hey, Germany?” Italy said as he hung up the dish towel.


“Remember that time we went dancing at the biergarten? That was so much fun!”

Ja… But if I remember correctly you were dressed like a girl.” Germany frowned.

Italy nodded. “That was part of the fun; pretending to be something I’m not.” He smiled. “You’re a good dancer.”


“I was wondering if you want to do that again.”


“Yeah!” Italy took his friend’s hands, placing one on his hip and the other he held onto. Humming softly, Italy stepped to the side.

Germany danced along, although it did not take long for him to take the lead as they waltzed around the kitchen. “Why don’t we go into the den and I’ll put on some music for you?” He slowed to a stop.

Italy’s pout quickly turned into a smile. “Yeah?”

Germany nodded. “Prussia had some Italian music on his laptop that I ummm… borrowed. That’s where I got that song from.”

“Okay.” Italy practically dragged Germany into the den, much to his friend’s amusement. While Germany put his iPod into the speaker dock, Italy moved the coffee table out of the way. Germany turned it on, and soon Dean Martin was belting out another song.

“Everybody loves somebody sometime… Everybody falls in love somehow… Something in your kiss just told me… My sometime is now… Everybody finds somebody someplace…
There's no telling where love may appear… Something in my heart keeps saying… My someplace is here…”

Italy wrapped his arms around Germany’s neck, pressing his body close, as they swayed to the music. Germany, tentatively placing his hands on his little buddy’s hips, tried hard to ignore the delicious friction Italy was creating as they danced. Dean Martin sang on, creating the soundtrack for what was turning out to be a very pleasant date.

“Love me, love me... Love me with all your heart… Kiss me, dear, while I hold you tight… Make this evening a magic night… Love me, love me… Promise me we'll never part… You can make all my dreams come true… If you'll love me as I love you…”

Germany rested his cheek on Italy’s head. He hummed along to the song, not wanting to kill the mood. Things finally felt right, like they were meant to be, and for one brief, shining moment, he wanted this to last forever just like the heroines in all his romance novels did.

“Volare, oh oh… Cantare, oh oh oh oh… Let's fly way up to the clouds… Away from the maddening crowds… We can sing in the glow of a star that I know of… Where lovers enjoy peace of mind… Let us leave the confusion and all disillusion behind… Just like birds of a feather, a rainbow together we'll find…” Dean Martin sang. “Volare, oh oh… E contare, oh oh oh oh... No wonder my happy heart sings… Your love has given me wings…” What really surprised Germany was how much he liked it when Italy sang along in Italian, as it felt like he was singing to him.

“Penso che un sogno cosi non ritorni mai piu… Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu... Poi d'improvviso venivo dal vento rapito… E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito… Volare, oh oh… E contare, oh oh oh oh…”

When the song finished, Italy tilted his head up to look at him. They gazed into each other’s eyes, for what Germany was sure was an eternity, before Italy tilted his head to the side as he closed his eyes. Germany took the hint, and gathering his courage, he closed his eyes and kissed him. What had started out as a soft, chaste kiss, soon heated up in intensity. They both pulled back, breathless, when the phone rang.

“Leave it,” Germany murmured as he leaned in for another kiss. “It’s probably Prussia, calling to annoy me…”

“Could be important…” Italy weakly protested as he met him halfway.

“Hey, West! It’s the awesome me! I’m calling to find out how things are going! West?! Hey, West!!” Prussia’s voice could be heard as the answering machine recorded his message. “West!” it cut him off, not that Germany cared. He and Italy were making their way upstairs to his bedroom. Closing the door and shutting off any future disruptions, Germany pulled his little buddy close.

Italy melted into his friend’s warm embrace. He loved the feel of Germany’s strong arms around him. Tilting his face up, he licked his lips and smiled, when Germany took the hint and kissed him. Italy deepened it as he snaked his arms around his friend’s neck. They came up for air, and Italy stepped back, taking Germany’s hand as he did so and leading him towards the bed.

There was an awkward moment when they stood there, trying to find a more passionate way to proceed. In the end, simplicity won out, and they simply undressed, leaving their clothes in a tangled heap on the floor. When Germany made no move to pick everything up and fold it neatly, Italy impulsively hugged him. The skin to skin contact felt good, and as their passions rose, they got into bed. Germany moved to blanket his friend, nuzzling his cheek with his nose. Italy moaned softly, wrapping his leg around his friend. He rubbed his heel along the back of Germany’s leg.

Germany slowly ground his hips against Italy’s. The delicious friction made both of them grow hard. Germany kissed him, and breaking it, he nipped playfully along his jaw line and when his little buddy tilted his head back, exposing the tender flesh of his throat, Germany left a trail of butterfly soft kisses there. They kept things soft and sweet, taking their time to build their desire. When Italy slid his hands down Germany’s back to cup his butt, pulling him close, Germany knew it was time to make a move. He briefly sucked on Italy’s collar bone as he continued to make his way lower.

Italy’s sharp intake of breath soon evened out into a series of soft moans. His friend, and now lover, was making his way down his torso, leaving a trail of nips and little kisses in his wake. Italy giggled when Germany licked his nipple, the tiny nub of flesh hardening under his ministrations. He moved even lower, down the flat planes of his torso, to worship at Italy’s navel, before heading over to his hip bone. Italy wiggled beneath him, Germany’s slow and deliberate movements teasing him. He moaned softly when Germany’s shoulder brushed against the head of his swollen cock. It felt so good, that he probably would have cum on the spot if Germany had touched it again.

Nestled between Italy’s legs, when Germany figured the time was right, he placed his hands on Italy’s thighs and engulfed his friend’s cock in his mouth. He licked and sucked, his head bobbing up and down as he built his rhythm. Encouraged by Italy’s soft mewling cries of pleasure, he tongued the thick vein that pulsed just under the head.

Italy fisted the sheets as he tried hard not to buck upwards into Germany’s mouth, not that he really could with his friend’s hands keeping his hips firmly rooted to the bed. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the pleasurable sensations running down his spine to pool deep within his cock. His breathing quickening, Italy had the feeling it was not going to be long, before he came. When his friend gently stroked his heavy sac with the back of his finger, Italy felt his balls tightening as he rushed headlong to his release.

As Germany continued his ministrations, he could taste how close Italy was to climaxing. Wanting to ease the ache in his own loins, he redoubled his efforts, licking and sucking the rigid column of flesh. He had just finished tonguing the tiny slit on top of Italy’s cock, when Italy came hard, spewing his hot bitter essence into the warm confines of his mouth. Germany quickened his pace, his head bobbing up and down, milking him dry. He pulled back with a loud slurp and swallowed. A tiny, self-satisfied smirk briefly tugged his mouth upwards into a smile, before he was leaning over Italy to rummage in the bedside table’s drawer for the lube. Taking it out; he squirted some onto his fingers. Rubbing his thumb on them, he warmed the lube as best as he could.

Italy basked in the glow of his sexual high. Germany was very talented with his mouth and he often left him feeling warm and loved and boneless, even though it was just the prelude to things to come. He sighed softly when his friend stroked his inner thigh. Italy knew it was just the unspoken command for him to pull his legs back so that Germany could prep him. He moaned softly as a lube slicked digit teased his entrance, before gently pushing inside. Germany moved his finger in and out, brushing his thumb lightly against Italy’s heavy sac as he did so, before pulling it out completely. A bit more lube, cold compared to last time, and Germany inserted two fingers. He moved them in and out, slowly stretching the delicate area and it was not long, before a third, followed by a forth finger was added.

Germany slowly removed his fingers and wiped them off with a tissue that he tossed on the floor when he was done with it. He squirted more lube on his fingers, which he smeared over his cock. He also added a bit more to Italy’s tight entrance. Getting into better position and cock in hand, Germany lined himself up, before pushing past the tight ring of muscle. He moaned softly as it always felt so good, being inside his little friend. Moving his hips back and forth, Germany developed his rhythm.

Italy wrapped his arms around him, holding him as close as he could because Germany had a tendency to keep his weight off him as much as possible. He loved the deep frown of concentration Germany wore while he made love to him. Letting go with one hand, Italy reached up to cup his cheek and Germany briefly leaned into it, his expression softening. He leaned closer, so that they were practically nose to nose, and Italy kissed him.

Moaning softly into the kiss, Germany knew it was not going to be long before he came. He quickened his pace, Italy’s virginal tightness pushing him closer and closer to his release. He thrust harder, careful not to hurt him, until he fell over the edge. Germany came hard. He thrust a few more times, not wanting to pull out as he panted. Opening his eyes, he stared myopically at Italy’s smiling face. Kissing him on the nose, Germany pulled out and sat back on his heels.

Italy scrambled backwards, and contorting with cat-like grace as he turned, he reached for the box of tissues, handing one to Germany. He took it and cleaned himself off, before getting out of bed. Italy watched as he padded over to the master bathroom. He waited a minute, before getting out of bed to join him. They quickly cleaned up and headed back to bed.

Germany got back into bed. He pulled the blankets up over his body, while Italy got comfortable beside him. Settling back against the pillows, Germany moved his arm and Italy snuggled closer. They lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms as they cuddled.



“I had a good time tonight. It was fun cooking with you and I was umm…”



“Sssh… You’re rambling, but in case you wanted to know, I also enjoyed myself.” Germany gave him one of his rare smiles.


“Yeah…” Germany held him tighter. He chuckled softly when Italy responded in kind. Feeling sated and loved, he drifted off to sleep and it was not long before Italy joined him.


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 24th, 2013 04:26 pm (UTC)
Wow, this was super adorable! Germany was such a cutie-pie all through the fic, and I loved all the details of their date.
Dec. 24th, 2013 06:24 pm (UTC)
*blushes* Thanks! Yeah, he can be very adorkable when he wants to. ;p I'm sooo glad you liked it! :D
Jan. 4th, 2014 10:40 am (UTC)
♥ Dawww... and you made me dribble with saliva from all those Italian food varieties.
Jan. 4th, 2014 03:56 pm (UTC)
*hands you a napkin* Sorry. ^^; But can you tell I like Italian food? ;p
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )


the Duchess of Crack! and the Queen of Fluff

Latest Month

January 2019


Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow