Hey, Author! What are you up to? : Oh, nothing... just typing this author note while watching cage boxing. It's so exciting and such a thrilling sport to me. And the babes holding the round signs are uber hawt! Nice curves, cute flirtatious smiles, ass...
Ah, Spike TV... the station that gives everyone a bone-
*Advertising book mark fades in*
Axis Powers-Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya (Okay, okay... we'll make it 9%, but that's my final offer... I'll even let you keep all your life size dolfies!)
Garlic Breath (Chapter 7-FINAL)
"I had a long day, sir," the German said calmly, his hand still holding the car door handle. "I have no money."
"Don' give me dat shit," the ski mask person hissed, pressing the gun more forcefully against the back of the German's head. "Yo' ride... don' y'know wha you be grillin' on, son?"
"Yes," the German answered calmly, but wasn't really positive on what the hell the robber just asked him.
"Well, den... dat's wassup! You musta got sumthin'. Nah, giv it up."
The ski mask person blinked, then frowned nodding.
"Ah, I see. I see. Gotta Rus'an up in 'ere thinkin' he's hip in Amer'ca, huh?"
"I'm German, you half talking, uneducated bastard."
"Bitch, I ain't gonna say it no mo'," the robber warned, making the gun click. "If you ain't got no money, give me yo' car den!"
The German turned his whole body to the robber with a look that only Satan would love.
The robber backed away a bit, turning pale.
"No," the German answered, his voice deeper sounding demanding.
"L... l-look 'ere, man..." the robber stuttered, the gun in his hand trembling slightly, "E-either we... either we do dis da easy way or da har-"
"EASY?!" The German bellowed out, making the robber jump and fall flat on his ass. The German angrily walked over to him.
"Ho'd up! Ho'd up!" The robber shriek trying to crawl away, but was caught by the back of his collar, roughly pulled up off the ground. The robber froze, staring face to face at his "victim," while his feet were dangling 8cm (*) off the ground.
"YOU WANT THINGS TO BE FUCKING EASY?!" The German screamed in his face, not caring if he was spitting on him. "GET A REAL JOB!" With that said, the German violently threw the freaked out robber on the ground.
The robber landed on his back with a loud thud. He stumbled, getting up, and clumsily ran off, taking his now soaked baggy jeans with him.
The German watched the robber take off as he adjusted his tie before opening his car door and casually got in. He closed the door and stared at the steering wheel of his car. Well, that was one problem solved. Now, where was he?
Ludwig's brain felt like it could explode as he tried thinking back to what went wrong during their date. The Italian was already acting weird when he first picked him up. He acted different when he first hugged him at the door, being quiet the whole time, and now this. Something was off. And the things he told him before he closed the door on him...
"Seven packs...?" The German asked himself, still not believing it. "Gott, he's strange..."
The German looked up his date's apartment window. Seconds later, the lights from the inside were turned off. The German sighed.
"Strange... yet adorable." Ludwig started the car and backed out in the drive way. The German turned the volume on his radio. The song Oh Fortuna came on. Tonight, Ludwig didn't feel like he had good fortune. His date closed the door on his face for no reason. He got held at gun point, and the worst part of all... he never got a good night kiss. Not even a damn, annoying hug from the dorky Italian. That wasn't his Feliciano at all. The German suddenly caught a whiff of something minty in the car. Well, this was great. It felt as though the crazy Italian was still in the car with him. Ludwig frowned slightly. His whole car reeked of mints. It was driving the German insane. He cranked the volume of the radio higher and cracked open his window to focus. The fresh air cleared his mind and the strong mint smell in the car. He came across a stop light in the middle of the nearly empty highway. He gently pressed down the break pedal, coming to a complete stop. The tall blonde took a deep breath, leaning back on his car seat, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. His best part of the song was coming up. He really loved this part of the song. Just as the choir's voices slowly crescendoed, for some strange reason, the song had some weird jingle. It was an annoying beeping noise. It sounded like a melody from...
The German opened his eyes lifting an eyebrow. What was the name of that song? It felt so familiar. He would hear Feliciano sing it all the time...
'O sole mio
Sta 'nfronte a te!
The German turned off the radio, hearing the jungle better now. It was definitely that damn song that Italian would sing all the time in his cubical at work. The blonde turned to the passenger side seeing a blue light flashing on the car seat. It was Feliciano's cell phone, no doubt about it. The German took a quick glimpse at the red traffic light as he reached over grabbing the phone. He looked down at the 10 missed calls. All of them were from a person named Romano.
"Romano... Romano," the German thought out loud. He then remembered Feliciano telling him that he had an older brother by that name. He was thinking about turning around and giving the phone back to the Italian, but decided to wait until tomorrow and give the small man a call when he's calmed down. The German's head shot up when he heard a car blowing loudly behind him. The traffic light was now green. The blonde frowned at the car behind him and turned back to the steering wheel driving off. He looked back down at the phone in his hand. He rolled his eyes and reached over placing the phone back on the passenger seat. When he placed the phone down on the cushion, he heard some rustling sounds. The German blinked taking a quick glance at the passenger seat. It was too dark in the car to see what it was. Ludwig reached a hand out on the car ceiling, switching on the car light. He tried concentrating on driving while quickly glancing his eyes down at the car seat.
The German lifted a blonde eyebrow.
"What the hell are..."
Mints. Spearmint gum. Breath mints. All scattered in a pile on the passenger's seat.
"Mints... mints... mints...?"
"Feliciano, why were you chewing so much gum?"
"I was... I thought we..."
The German turned his eyes back on the road, blinking constantly.
The German had put two and two together. It all made since, now. That silly pasta man was looking forward to kissing him just as badly as he was. And he was wanting to prepare himself. No wonder he wasn't eating anything. The German's lips started to quiver, then he made a huge roar of laughter. He nearly ran off the road a few times because of his uncontrollable laugh.
What an adorable dork, he thought.
Feliciano came out the bathroom after washing his face. He looked over at his window from across the room. Sniffing, he went over to his lamp and turned it off before going over to the window and cracked open his curtain just enough to take a peek outside. He watched as the German started his car and drove off. The Italian breathed out a shaky sigh and walked back over to his bed room, removing his stained shirt. He held out the stained shirt looking at it with disgust.
The Italian couldn't get over what happened tonight. This whole night was a nightmare. Then again, it wasn't so bad. He was with Ludwig. He embarrassed the hunk several times, acted like a chicken with its head cut off when he saw onions in his salad, and closed the door in his face at the end of the night. The Italian whined sadly his arms flopped down to his sides. He was still holding the shirt in his right hand. He finally dropped it carelessly on the floor and went over to his bed to get his jacket. He reached into his pocket to fetch his cell phone. It was empty. He reached into the other pocket that had a hole in it.
"Nhhhh..." he whimpered. It was the same pocket he kept the phone in along with the mints. "Ehh... what if my brother was trying to get me? He's going to be so mad at me." The Italian went over to the night stand where he kept his cordless house phone. He picked it up and dialed his older brother's cell phone. After a half ring, it was immediately answered.
"Feliciano? Are you okay?! Are you hurt?! I've been trying to call you all night! What is-a going on out there?!"
The Italian pulled the phone away from his ear to avoid getting an ear bleed from his older brother's out burst. He whimpered a bit as he sat on his bed.
"Romano, please," the younger Italian spoked softly. "I'm okay-ve. I was out with a friend tonight. I think I lost my cell phone."
"How could you-a lose your cell phone, brother?" Romano cried out once more. "You keep it with you at all times!"
"Ehh! I'm sorry! So sorry!"
"Didn't I tell you to stop saying sorry? You need to be a man, Feliciano!"
The older Italian sighed though the phone.
"You're my brother, Feli," the older Italian said gently. "You're the only family I've-a got. I worry about you down there in America."
"I know, brother," Feliciano replied quietly slipping his free hand into his holed pocket, wiggling his fingers through the hole. "I just wanted to show you that I can be a man. That I can handle myself and be independent-ve."
"And you can still do that if you wish to come back home, little brother."
"Mm..." the young Italian replied. He pulled his hand away from the torn pocket and reach up twisting his curl between his fingers. He could tell his older brother was doing the same over the phone whenever they had a silent moment like now.
Romano was Feliciano's older twin brother. Though they looked the same and had a passion for pasta, they're both different. Romano was the strongest in the family and would kill anyone if someone ever harmed his only living relative. He was always there for Feliciano and made sure the unalert goof made the right choices. Feliciano was used to his brother's behavior when they were much younger. As the two grew older, the younger blood grew tired of the older one bossing him around. Feliciano wanted to do things on his own. He wanted to make his own decisions. He wanted to just get away from it all.
The older Italian was crushed when his younger blood told him he decided to move to America. The older brother tried coming up with many excuses and schemes to keep the young one from going. Feliciano's mind was made up. The younger Italian offered to have Romano come with him. The older Italian declined. Romano didn't speak to Feliciano for a month after he moved to America. The older Italian learned to give in on his younger bother's choices and support him in anyway. Sometimes.
"How was your night with your friend?" The older one asked. For some reason saying the word "friend" left a bad taste in Romano's mouth. The older blood was always there to make sure his younger one made good friends; the ones who were trustworthy, didn't take advantage of him, and didn't hurt Feliciano's feelings. If not, Romano would make them pay. The younger Italian didn't have many friends back home.
"It was wonderful-ve," the younger Italian lied a little.
"Were they nice to you? They did not use you for your money have they?"
"Romanooooo," the younger Italian whined.
"Feliciano, I just want to know. You cannot trust people these days."
"But Ludwig is a nice person-ve!" the younger blood objected. "He paid for dinner and everything. There are nice people here just like back home."
"Ludwig..." the older brother said uneasy. "Is that a man's name?"
"Were you on some kind of... date with this man?"
Feliciano wished he hadn't paid for the phone bill this month.
"Feli... I'm not trying to play mama, and I'm not calling to tell you what to do. But I-click- too mu-click- just-a c-click-"
"Eh?" the young Italian blinked. "Romano, there's clicking noises. I think someone's trying to call me."
Romano sighed again in reply.
"Answer it. I'll talk with you tomorrow."
"Okay. Goodnight, Romano."
"Goodnight, little brother."
Feliciano looked down at the caller ID to see who was calling him. His eyes sadden to see the familiar number.
The pasta lover wanted to talk to him, but he didn't want to. The phone made a loud ring, startling the Italian. He looked down seeing Ludwig's number flashed on the ID once again. The Italian did nothing but stared down at it letting it ring until it stopped after the seventh ring. He couldn't talk to him now. He didn't want to see him now. How was he supposed to avoid him at work Monday morning?
"Ludwig... I'm sorry."
The Italian looked down at the phone once more. He pressed the history menu to see what all calls he missed. He went to Ludwig's number again, studying the digits. It didn't matter. He knew his number by heart; his cell phone, his house phone, even his cubical phone at work. Most people didn't worry about memorizing their friends', co-workers', or family members' number thanks to the power of the cell phone's address book. Just click the speed dial and presto! But if someone lost, misplaced, or got their phone stolen even, how will they get in contact with anybody? Without technology, cell phone callers would be worthless. Feliciano on the other hand memorized everyone's numbers. He knew them all from the back of his hand. Especially Ludwig's. The Italian's heart would pound uncontrollably and feel tingly all over everytime he sees one of the German's phone numbers flashing on his phone. Hearing the man's deep voice on the other end of the phone calmed him and made Feliciano feel warm. He couldn't explain the feeling he had when he was near the tall and handsome creature.
The Italian watched as the blue light highlighting the German's number on the phone died out. He pressed a random button making the light come back on. He was crazy about that man, but he knew he'll probably never have him. The Italian's cheeks turned pink as he for some reason lean his head down, closed his eyes, and press his lips on the highlighted phone number. It was a strange gesture, but kissing a phone with Ludwig's phone number on it was probably the closest kiss he'll ever get from him.
The Italian placed the phone back on the receiver and plopped on the soft bed flat on his bare back, staring at the ceiling. His cheeks were still flushed pink. He sighed and turned to his side, taking a pillow, and wrapping his arms around it tightly. Feliciano closed his eyes, and immediately fell asleep.
"You idiot! Get on your side of the road!" An angry driver yelled out the window blowing angrily at a person riding their bike.
Feliciano paid the person no mind and turned the corner making it to the gate entrance of his job safe and sound. He couldn't help but to realize that divers on Mondays were at their worse. He passed the security guard waving good morning to him and pedaled inside the first floor of the parking garage. He pulled his chains and combination lock out from his basket and locked his bike secured on a nearby bike parking. He pulled out his briefcase and headed toward the elevator. The Italian was feeling somewhat better today. Yesterday Ludwig was blowing up his phone constantly every two or three hours, and later that evening the German came over knocking on his door begging the Italian to open up so he could talk to him. The pasta lover found it hard to believe that he managed to avoid the German all day yesterday. He just needed to figure out how he can keep from talking to him at work. He was still not ready to face him yet. Feliciano swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat as he pressed the arrow button that was pointing upwards.
"Frustrating..." he whined to himself.
The Italian looked up hearing the elevator doors opening. He bit down his lower lip and walked inside. He turned to the buttons, reaching over pressing the 15th floor. He stepped back, facing the doors which were now closing. Just when the Italian could only see a tiny crack of the parking garage, a huge hand poked out grasping one of the doors.
The Italian jumped, gasping.
The doors automatically opened back up letting the person inside.
Feliciano's face paled.
An out of breath Ludwig came in, looking ravishingly handsome. His blonde hair was slicked back just like from their date, wearing a white button down shirt with a red tie, brown slacks, and brown leather shoes. He had his suit case in one hand and his matching jacket tucked underneath his arm. His blue eyes trailed over, seeing he had company.
"Feliciano," the German spoke gently.
The Italian held in his breath. He was frozen in place.
"I have been trying to get you all day yesterday."
"I wanted to talk to you about the other night."
"Feliciano, please say something."
The Italian looked down at his feet, not knowing what to say.
"Feliciano, are you going to ignore me forever?"
"I have your cell phone."
"I also found your mints in the passenger seat..."
"You were acting weird that night because you were afraid you were going to have bad breath... if we kissed..."
The Italian's throat went dry all of a sudden.
"Feliciano... I really wanted to kiss you that night... did you not feel the same way?"
"I..." the Italian began.
The German looked down at him waiting for his response.
"I..." the Italian repeated.
This was awkward. It was embarrassing. He couldn't do this. Feliciano wasn't ready.
"I-I left my lunch in my basket..." the Italian murmured as he brushed passed the German. The Italian only managed to take one step out the door before something hard grasped his arm, yanking him back inside the elevator, and roughly pinned him hard against the wall. The Italian yelped loudly from the impact. Briefcases hit the floor having one of them popped open with papers and important documents wasting out.
Feliciano trembled and winced painfully, looking up to see Ludwig towering over him, his angry blue eyes staring down at him. The Italian never saw him this angry before. If looks could kill, Feliciano hoped it would be a quick and painless death. The furious German had the Italian's upper arms in a tight grip. The pressure was so tight. Feliciano was sure it would leave a bruise.
"L-L-Lu..." was all the shaken up Italian could get out.
"Shut up!" the German snapped.
The frightened Italian was trying desperately to break free from the strong man's tight and painful grasp, but he suddenly froze, feeling something soft and warm press against his lips ever so gently. The Italian's eyes were opened, seeing the German's eyes closed, his eyelashes looking longer from a tilted angle.
The German was kissing him deeply and passionately. Feliciano's face was beet red, his whole body felt like it would combust from this simple kiss. Did it feel like this all the time, the Italian wondered. Giving in, the Italian finally responded to the kiss, eyes fluttered closed, and a soft moan escaping from the back of his throat. The Italian's kiss was very clumsy, but both the pasta lover and the blonde giant couldn't care less at the moment.
Seeing that the brunette was responding, Ludwig had deepened the kiss, playfully nibbling Feliciano's bottom lip occasionally, then finally brushing his tongue across the small man's lips wanting to explore inside. The Italian gasped feeling the wetness, making it a good opportunity for the German's hungry tongue to take the plunge. Feliciano muffled out a startled moan as the German's hot tongue slipped inside his mouth exploring the cave. It felt weird and strange to the Italian, but it was the German's tongue. So it felt right. He would shiver whenever he felt Ludwig's tongue bump against his shy tongue. He gasped once more when he felt the German pulling away, out of breath. The Italian was panting as well face flushed, in a daze. Feliciano looked up seeing the German staring back at him. His blue eyes were softened now, with a flushed and unreadable face. At least he didn't look mad anymore to the Italian. The blonde loosens his tight grip on the Italian arms slightly but didn't let him go.
"I refuse..." Ludwig began still catching his breath. "I refuse to be ignored, and I sure as hell refuse to get my emotions played, Feliciano. I like being around you. No matter how many times you screw things up at work or off work, I somehow end up liking you more because of your clumsiness. No matter how many cases of beer I drink to get you off my mind, you are still there. I'm still trying to figure out what it is I see in you, how, and why did you get into my life. Your hugs annoy the living hell out of me, but I always look forward to them everyday! It's hard for me to keep a straight face when you do the cutest things, and I know you are not doing them purposely. And when I see you cry it tears me apart because I'm not used to seeing you that way. That day when I asked you out I wanted to see just how bad I was falling for you. And when I almost kissed you... I knew then... I knew I wanted to be with you. I like you, Feliciano. I always have. Always will."
"Ludwig..." the Italian replied, blushing and his heart fluttering. It felt good hearing the German say that. It made him happy. He never felt so happy... so alive. He looked up at the German putting on his goofy smiles.
The German smiled back, happy to see that dorky smile again.
"I didn't mean to give you a hard time-ve," the Italian said. "I wanted to kiss you too. I really did-ve. I bought all those mint because I wanted our kiss to be amazing... just like this."
"So did you enjoy it?" the German asked grinning.
"Better than pasta!" The Italian answered proudly.
"Well... maybe a little."
"Just a little?" the German teased.
"Ah! I'm sorry! It is better than pasta! Honest, it is! I'm so-"
The Italian's whines were cut off by the German's deep kiss once again. The German broke the kiss halfway.
"Keep apologizing, and I won't ask you out ever again." the German warned grinning still.
"No! I'll stop!" The Italian cried worriedly getting ready to cry. "I want to go to Olive Garden with Ludwig again and eat pasta! I'll give you the rest of my leftover pasta! I promise, Ludwig! I'll-"
Ludwig interrupted his cries with another deep kiss.
Feliciano calmed down and responded to the kiss.
Mondays are the best, the Italian thought.
"Oh, daaaaaamn! Yo, gay lovahs! Get a room! F'real!"
The couple broke away from their kiss and turned to the person with their half talking speech.
They saw a black man who looked no taller than Feliciano. He was wearing a nice black dress shirt with black slacks, and dress shoes, with a nice clean cut. But the first thing the couple noticed was a horrified look on the young man's face when they turned to him.
The black man had his eyes on the German's the whole time. He stumbled backwards falling on his ass trembling, and pointing.
"Y-you!" he stuttered.
The German blinked, looking confused.
"Oh, HELL naw! Y... y' work 'ere?! Naw! Naw! Naw! Naw! Fuck dis shit! I'm workin' at Freckle Bitches!(*)" The black man got up, stumbled over to the exit doors, and ran downstairs. His screams were heard until the door slid shut.
The couple and the other coworkers from their cubicles looked at each other oddly.
"Eh...?" the Italian was the first to speak.
"Who the hell was that?" The German asked noone in particular.
"Well, that WAS our new employee," Alfred answered approaching the couple in the elevator. "He just finished his interview with the boss. He was saying something about getting his... uh... Kiku, what did he say?"
"It was... something about, um... 'get'n mah life 'n check-kno' wha I'm sayin'," Kiku answered, failing miserably in impersonating the man's street talk.
"Yeah, that's it!" the burger lover chuckled, loving how he got the Japanese man to say it again for the eighth time this morning. "He said he changed his ways after attempting to rob some tall blonde guy the other night."
Feliciano made a face plugging his nose.
"Ludwig, what is that smell?"
THAT... Feliciano, my dear is the smell of victory!!
...holy crap. I did it. I finished my first ever fanfiction!
Am I happy?
Will I do another one of these?
When I was in highschool, I would write all the time. Some were original short stories, but I would write poems mostly. I didn't think writing fanfictions would be so hard. Its still fun to do. Don't get me wrong. I now realize it takes a lot of time and patients to get your story just right. Especially getting the personality of the characters down just like in the series/books/tv shows/etc. This lil' piggy gotta long way to go. :P
I admit that this was very challenging. I would totally do it again. I might try and finish up that RikuxSora fic.... *smirks* I might even try to come up with a sequel of this last fanfic! What do you readers think? Honesty much?
Oh, crap I almost forgot!! Have you guys noticed the little star(*)? Well there is a meaning behind that! Heheh! Wanna know what they were? :
2) The robber froze, staring face to face at his "victim", while his feet was dangling 8cm (*) off the ground. (Basically in the anime Hetalia, Italy is 8cm shorter than Germany. He was frustrated when he was trying to give Germany a good morning hug. Instead, Germany leans over and kiss both his cheeks... CUTEST. SCENE. EVA!!)
3) "Oh HELL naw! Y... y' work 'ere?! Naw! Naw! Naw! Naw! Fuck dis shit! I'm workin' at Freckle Bitches!"(*) (I'm not sure if me and my old college buddies are the only ones who came up with this nonsense, but the name "Freckle Bitches" is another saying for the burger restaurant Wendy's. She has freckles and, well... I guess she's a bitch ROFL.)
*still laughing wiping away a tear* Yeah.. Ah, get outta here, ya bastards! Nothing more to read here! XD
thank you guys for putting up with my bad writingz an' grammerz. Lol All your reviews made me smile, and I appreciate the others critiques, spotting silly errors, and encouraging me to keep going with the story even though this is just my first one. I hope to make another one of these soon! Love you guys, and Be safe!