Lief Mit Mein Hertz, Kleiner Maedchen (GerIta!!!)

Chapter One

*Germany’s POV*

“Italy, WAKE UP. You are late for training!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. The little twig barely even twitched. “If you don’t get up,” I said threateningly, “you will never be allowed to eat pasta again.”

“Aaagh! No, Germany, not my pastaaa~!” The brunette was truly terrified.

“Ten minutes, dumbkopf, or else! No exceptions!” I marched out of his room, slamming the door behind me. At least he stayed in his own bed last night.

*Feliciano’s POV*

Germany walked out of my room really angry-looking. ‘I hope he’s ok...’ I take my military uniform off the floor and put it on. He threatened pasta today, I couldn’t afford to be late. 5 minutes. Oh, how I’d love to go chasing pretty ladies today, rather than train with Ludwig - I mean, Germany - but he’s my best friend. I think he gets lonely, I mean, he doesn’t flirt (despite his love for those really bad magazines) and he’s always yelling at people. 2 minutes. I ran out the door, getting to the training field just in time.

“Ten laps!” Germany said (and by said, I mean shouted) “And make it qvick! Ozervise you’ll never see pasta again!” Ah, his accent is so funny and like Austria’s...

‘Hey!’ I thought, ‘I’ll bet Germany would be happier if I found him a girl!’ I ran the rest of my laps with a clear mission in mind - I would find Ludwig von Belschmidt a woman.

*Germany’s POV*

He made it on time for once. That’s surprising. “Ten laps,” I said, “And make it quick.” I threatened pasta again and he took off. *Sigh*, he’s so easy, it’s almost pathetic. But pathetic in, I don’t know, an almost endearing way? No, that can’t be it. The bushes rustled nearby, putting me on high alert. I turned around... and got hit in the face... with a potato? I picked it up and looked at the culprit, Italy’s annoying and bothersome twin brother, Romano.

“Kraut bastard!” he yelled.

Rolling my eyes, I turned around and tossed the potato to Italy and said, “I think it’s for you.”

“Hey Romano~!” he responded.

I sighed and walked off. I didn’t need to deal with Romano today, Italy was frustrating enough. The two of them sure were talking loudly...

“...I don’t know what you see in him, Feli,” Romano said, “The potato-eating asshole doesn’t do anything. He threatened pasta, for goodness’ sake!”

“He’s my friend, Romano,” Italy replied, “and si, Germany doesn’t seem to be very nice...”

That hurt. Hearing it from Romano, now that I could handle. But Italy? I thought he was an ally, my friend... I should’ve given him to France. What if he’s only a spy?! England, France, America, even RUSSIA might know my country’s future plans! “Nein, nein!” I find myself saying in a whisper. They cannot know what my boss was planning for the former Axis and Allies... Deeply troubled by this, I went inside to do something, anything.

I sat down and called Japan.