SOY: as promised after the poll on my profile about which fic to update, here you have it –the new instalment of IiNiyI. Though two fics managed to get the same amount of votes, so there shall be an update for Naruto as well, lol. Please enjoy!


Rating: K+.

Warnings: mpreg (male x male pregnancy), some crack and angst, depending on the situation, fluff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.


Impossible is nothing, if you're Italian

Chapter 08

"Come on, I'll treat you to something good," Spain chirped, gently prodding his lover towards the closest gelateria.

Thanks to South Italy's sudden craving for something to eat, he'd stopped kicking at Spain's curled-up body and had demanded him to pay for his food. Bouncing up from the ground as if he hadn't been beaten to submission until seconds before, Spain had nodded and proceeded to coo over his cute Romanito, unable to stop smiling at him.

Romano grunted softly but allowed Spain to hold onto his arm anyway, inwardly rejoicing in the closeness, his mind far too concentrated on what type of ice cream to order to notice how Spain kept inching closer.

"Buongiorno," he told the cute signorina at the ice cream parlour, finding his mood somehow lifted at the sight of such a cute girl. "I'd like a size three cup with double gianduja, coffee, chocolate chip and cream".

He glanced to the side to see if Spain was going to bitch about the amount of gelato he was ordering, but met the blissful expression of his lover and grunted in defeat.

Spain ordered his own gelato (a cone with just vanilla) and moved to pay, tugging Romano with him, who was once again too busy to notice how Spain's arm was now wrapped around his hips, holding him protectively against his side.

The girl at the counter glanced at her co-worker and giggled, whilst the other rolled her eyes.

"Have a nice date~" she waved at them as they left.

Romano blinked, finally turning his attention from his ice cream to Spain, who was waving back at her, and frowned.

"How did she know–" his voice fell when he realised the position they were in.

Romano's cheeks burned crimson in shame and embarrassment, but to his outmost surprise, as both of his hands were occupied with his gelato cup (while Spain had intelligently opted for a cone and had an arm free to hug his lover with), there was no way for him to elbow Spain away from him.

His brain started sifting through his options, but since none was acceptable given the situation, he simply pouted and continued eating, pretending to not have noticed.

Besides, it wasn't actually that bad… it felt… kind of… nice…

Spain inwardly cooed at Romano's pout and held him even closer, unmindful of the growls he received… he was too happy to care.

"Say, Lovi dear~" Romano growled, and Spain ignored it. "What are we going to do now? With the baby, I mean~"

At Romano's confused glare, Spain simply smiled, overwhelmed by his cuteness, and pushed his lover to the side of the street, making him sit down on the stairs of a conveniently nearby church.

One could always count on a close by church in Venice.

"We have to give him a name~ I'm sure it'll be a boy~ and we have to buy him a bed, and a pushchair, and–"

"F–first off, it's a cradle, not a bed! Stupid Antonio," South Italy wriggled into Spain's hold and grunted, unable to get away. "A–and then, how do you know if it's a boy? Couldn't it be a little girl?"

"If it's a boy, we'll call him Romualdo!"

"W–what? W–why a Spanish name? It's horrible! I won't name a kid of mine like that!"

Spain held his ice cream for Romano to taste, silencing him momentarily as the younger Nation licked some of his vanilla. "Why not?"

"B–because the baby will have an Italian name, that's why! Just like Feli's son will never have a German name! No member of my family will ever get anything from the potato–bastard side!"


With a determined pout, Romano returned to his ice cream, ignoring Spain's attempts to make him turn towards him again.

His brother was his brother, damn it. It was hard already that he had a bit of that stupid Germanic blood into him, and now his little baby would be part German too –that was not right! Germany had so many that could speak his language already, but there were only two Italies.

Of course, he couldn't tell that to the stupid Spain, but he hoped Italy would have more common sense.

"Let Feli make his own decisions in regards to his kid," grabbing South Italy's chin in his hand, Spain forced his lover to turn towards him. "I understand that you're scared–" Romano tried to flinch away, but Spain didn't allow him to. "–but I'm here. I'm not going away. I love you, right? And… and Ludwig loves Feli. We're both here for you two".

Romano hissed and pushed Spain away. "You don't understand anything! You're not the one with–" glancing around at the few people passing on the street, he shook his head and sat down again, fuming silently.

Spain had the uncanny ability to make him lose control, and more so now that he could barely hold onto his hormones.

Damn it. Damn him. Damn pregnancy…

"You are not the one with a baby growing inside you!" he was inwardly proud of his low, hissing tone. They were not in the privacy of South Italy's house, or Spain's. They were in the middle of Venice. "How could you understand?"

Intertwining his hand with that of the younger Italian Nation, Spain stared into his eyes with an unusual serious look.

"Maybe I can't understand that, Romanito, but I love you. I'm not going anywhere. Don't try to push me away, it won't work. Allow me to stay at your side, and if I can't make things right, at least… I'll make them bearable for you".

"S… shut up, y–you idiot. You know nothing. I'm already fat and ugly and bitchy and–"

Spain held Romano by his hips and hoisted him up on his lap, ignoring the spluttering and concentrating on his cute lover's flushed cheeks instead, showering kisses on them until Romano finally stopped resisting and pressed his face into Spain's neck, ashamed yet feeling warm and comfortable.

The Spaniard didn't care about people looking. They were definitely not important.

"We'll find the perfect name for our boy, and then we'll buy everything he needs, and you will be nice to Ludwig because you don't want to stress Feli, right? Just like you'll try not to get always so angry…"

One hand caressing his little Italian lover's head, Spain looked up at the beautiful scenery of the city and smiled.

"We'll work together and prepare a beautiful room for the kids at your house, and then one at my house" he continued, taking a deep breath. He could picture everything in his mind. He liked the image. "I'll paint it, and you will buy all sort of things, and I'll teach him how to harvest tomatoes…"

Romano snorted and closed his eyes, feeling the steady heartbeat of the Spaniard vibrate through his frame. The sound was calming and soothing, and Spain's warm arms around his shoulders weren't that bad, either.

But he was allowing this just this once, of course. And not because it was making Spain happy; simply because he was comfortable and that was it.

"I'll teach her Italian," he muttered, refusing to take into consideration that their kid could be a boy. "You… you can teach her Spanish if you want," he added after a moment, flushed crimson.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Just maybe, of course.


France, England and Japan quickly realised something was wrong with Germany the moment they stepped into Italy's house and noticed the other Nation sitting on the sofa, completely unmoving.

The German's eyes were glazed over and his cheeks were flushed red, and even when France moved closer and attempted his way of greeting people (groping) he got no results (other than England slapping his head and kicking him on the shin).

"Ve~ Ludwig~ Ludwig~" Italy bounced around his lover and waved his hand in front of his eyes.

Still nothing.

England shook his head. "He just found out he is going to be a father, I am sure the news shocked him… uh, just… I guess he'll snap out of it on his own".

Italy glanced at him unsurely, then nodded. "It's not the first time this happens, but if he does not, what do I do?"

"Try seducing him," France replied knowingly. "It might help…"

"Francis!" England hissed.


"Feliciano–kun… was Ludwig–san aware that male Nations can become pregnant?"

Italy blinked and shook his head, still pouting. "I wanted to tell him that next, but he froze before I could continue~"

Sharing a look, England and Japan patted Italy on his shoulder and straightened up. "Maybe it is better if we go now," the Englishman stated, shaking his head. "Francis–"

France, who had been trying to sneak his hands on Italy's stomach, stilled and flinched, backing away from the Italian nation and nodding. "Of course, of course," he murmured. "Feli, if you need help…"

With an elbow nested into France's ribs, England stared right into Italy's eyes. "If you need help, please call me," he stated. Italy glanced at France and nodded, thankful.

The three guests looked out of the window before leaving the house, noticing that Spain and South Italy were nowhere to be seen. With a relieved sigh, France and England hurried around the corner. Japan paused a moment and glanced back, bowing at Italy before moving down to another street, mindful of the Nations he'd tied up previously and deciding it was time to let them go.

Italy was blissful unaware of that as he closed the entrance and returned to his lover, curling at his side and waiting.

The room was silent, and Italy enjoyed the lack of noise, feeling strangely relaxed. He mildly wondered about his brother, wriggling his now naked feet around, but knew that Spain would take care of him.

Glancing to the side at Germany's still glazed over expression, he wondered what he was thinking about; he looked really off, but Italy didn't mind his lover's quirks.

After a while, though, Italy started shifting and fidgeting, bored out of his mind; standing up, he grabbed his notepad and started sketching, humming softly under his breath as he let his mind be absorbed by his drawing.

How would the baby look? Would it be a beautiful bambina? Or a strong–looking bambino like his daddy Germany was?

Italy's heart was filled with love to give and things to teach, and he could not wait.

Meanwhile, Germany was having a battle all of his own inside his brain, completely unaware of the world around him.

'Feliciano. Pregnant,' he thought, utterly shocked. 'This can't be possible, he's a male'.

He'd remained fixed on this thought for a long while, unable to advance from that single sentence as it repeated over and over in his mind, but no matter how much he thought about it, the fact didn't change; Italy's words echoed in his brain with the same worried, hesitant tone every time, yet there was something in the way he'd said it that… Germany was sure Italy believed it completely.


Italy was a male, and Germany was rather sure (despite having had Prussia as his tutor and as the one who administrated the whole 'birds and bees' talk to him when he'd been younger) that males couldn't get pregnant, period.

But there again, Italy had never lied to him. Yes, there were the small white lies about who finished the last piece of Austria's cake, or who broke the vase in the corridor, but nothing this big –Italy was always honest with Germany, no matter what.

So he couldn't start now, and with something so big, would he?

Which meant, in Germany's rational mind, that Italy was truly pregnant.

Yet, at the same time, it couldn't be true, because there were too many things wrong with that thought.


A baby.

Germany's baby, because the thought of Italy cheating on him had a probability of happening equal to America suddenly starting to eat healthy, or to France stopping his molestations. Which meant abysmally low.

Did it mean Italy wasn't lying?

Did it mean he was telling the truth, or that he simply believed what he said?

Italy was probably aware that males were unable to bear children, and yet he was gullible enough to believe that, if he wanted to.

With that set in mind, Germany finally shook himself out of his trance, ready to face Italy and demand an explanation for his words, then stopped when he realised Italy was not standing in front of him anymore.

Blinking in surprise Germany looked around, coming to the conclusion that he had somehow spaced out, and feeling terribly ashamed for doing so.

It wasn't a common occurrence, but he'd done that once or twice already while with Italy…

Italy was sitting at his side, and Germany cleared his throat, ready to extract the necessary information from the Italian Nation so everything would shift in the right perspective again, then stopped dead.

His lover was slouched on the couch with his legs crossed and he was sketching, the only noise in the room the sound of his pencil scratching on the paper, and the sight took Germany's breath away.

So beautiful.

Italy hadn't noticed Germany coming out from his trance and was still deep into his drawing, and Germany was surprised to see how Italy's left hand was pressed on his stomach almost protectively, humming something under his breath.

Leaning forwards a bit, almost hypnotized, Germany realised that Italy was singing a lullaby. His voice was low and calm and full of love, and it washed through Germany's mind with the strength of a tsunami, making his chest grow warm and tight at the same time.

It was that sight –Italy's unconscious gesture of rubbing his fingers on his stomach, the song he was muttering (a melody familiar to Germany, yet he could not recognise it)– that finally penetrated through Germany's rationality, insinuating in him the doubt he could not confute.

Italy wasn't lying. He wasn't believing something untrue. Germany would never admit of being so ready to believe in something like that, and yet he was.

Family. A baby. Belonging. The thought was so strange, but it wasn't bad at all. It was something he craved for.

Italy gasped out in shock when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his midsection and lifted him up, and he suddenly found himself pressed against Germany's big chest, with the blond Nation's lips pressing against his own, then on his cheeks and his forehead, showering him with spontaneous kisses.

Giggling, surprised but definitely pleased, Italy wrapped his arms around Germany's neck.

"Welcome back Ludwig~"

Flushed crimson, Germany looked straight into Italy's eyes. "A baby?" he asked, his voice vibrating for a moment in hesitation. "Is it for real?"

He could not bring himself to ask 'why', or 'how is it possible?' anymore. It didn't matter.

When his lover simply nodded, smiling and kissing his neck lovingly, Germany finally allowed himself to fully believe.

A baby.

Germany's baby. Inside Italy. Growing.

A baby together with Italy. A small life that was growing inside his lover, and that would soon grow, with small fingers, and small feet and closed eyes and…

Germany loved kids.

Germany loved Italy.

And now, there was a little kid growing into Italy's body, a life Germany had helped creating.

Holding Italy close to his heart, Germany smiled.


SOY: I hope you liked the chapter! See you hopefully soon :3 and don't forget to drop a review if you enjoyed it. ^^

bambino/bambina (Italian) - little boy/little girl.

gelateria (Italian) - icecream shop.