Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
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Minimal fluff 09!
Of all the centuries of knowing Italy, Germany couldn't recall when he had ever been thrown off by anything he found in the happy nation's house before. Sure, the various pots of pasta lying cooling in the windowsill was odd and the collection of roses that rivaled France's greenhouse was strange, but Germany had taken it all in stride. After all, it was nothing less than what he would expect of his abnormal ally.
But this had to be the weirdest.
He had gone around in polite fashion to wish all his friends (and acquaintances, of course, as not to burn bridges) happy holidays. This, obviously, involved sitting and tolerating France's belief in holiday streaking, Austria's careful planning of his festivities, England's awful seasonal cooking, America's outlandish decorations… among others. Japan had been a welcome alternative, a familiar face of modesty. Of course, this lack of activity may have been due to his apparent fatigue; when asked why exactly he was so tired, he only mumbled something about "holiday R-18 doujinshi" before quickly changing the subject.
So now, to finish the whole trip and go home to rest before drinking the night away with his brother (who had decided to get an early start on that itself), he dropped by Italy. The brunette nation had greeted him with a smile and a glomp as usual and pulled him into the house.
That's when Germany saw them; just hovering above his head like a strange fungus.
Italy had not been troubled at all and Germany allowed himself to be dragged around the house, trying not to show his ignorance on the subject. As Italy ranted on about Santa and presents and pasta, Germany tried to find any sort of rhyme or reason to the whole change of the household. Pine tree with ornaments, that was okay. Wreaths, that was fine. Advent candles, typical sign of Catholicism. But that was just…
"If I may ask, Italy…what is this foliage growing on your ceiling?"
Italy looked up, his mouth agape that Germany almost wanted to close it in case the foliage in question fell from their place and into his unsuspecting mouth. But Italy looked back down, his typical smile on his face.
"You don't know? It's mistletoe!"
Ah, so that was what it was. Yes, he had heard of it before, but not in this multitude. "I'm not trying to be disapproving, but are you trying to grow a mistletoe farm in your house? Maybe you could move them outside, or at least put them in pots so they don't make a mess…"
Italy shook his head feverishly, his fists earnestly held up in insistence. "No! No, you don't get it!" He put his hands on his hips, grounding their tour through the house to a stop. "Okay! Germany, I'll help you. What is mistletoe used for?"
"No, no, no! Besides that! Why do people have it around for parties?"
Germany paused, unsure of what Italy was going at. "To kiss their significant other under," he recited, his face flushing despite himself. He was not one to speak about such intimate activities lightly.
"Right! And where do you usually put them?"
Germany stared at him. "On the ceiling," he said slowly, before frowning. "Yes, but Italy, this is obviously taking that too far! I don't want to know exactly how much mistletoe you have on your ceiling, but it looks like you have a forest in your house!"
"That's the point!" Italy insisted, stomping his foot. Throwing his arms in the air, he grinned. "Look! It's everywhere."
"Taking it down will make a mess, especially if they start shedding their leaves…"
"Shh." Italy reached a finger out and rested it on Germany's lips. "You're missing the point. The point, Germany, is that it's everywhere." He said this last part slowly, suggestively. Germany hesitated.
"Did your brother approve of this?"
"Yes. Well, not at first. But when Spain came over, he really liked it." Italy winked, as if what he explained wasn't clear enough. "Spain's not one to hold back," he added.
Closing his eyes to block certain images out of his mind, Germany sighed. "Well, this is certainly not what I…"
He was about to explain the hazards of having flora in such close proximities to the walls (these were the Italy twins he was dealing with, and a stray match could have the whole house in flames) when Italy leaned in and kissed him. When he broke away and Germany opened his mouth to interject, Italy leaned in and kissed him again.
"Mistletoe doesn't need words, silly," he teased, before slyly wrapping his arms around the now flustered nation. "All you need to do is kiss."
Note: I'm in an Italy phase if no one has noticed. Therefore, let's have a happy end of the year with Italy! Review, please. And I wish you all the best wishes.