**Gah, short story ideas keep popping in my head, and they're always romance! Me like, what about you? Just kidding, don't tell me -.- anyway, totally plot less GerIta oneshot (?) with more H2O to go with a nice serving of warm, saucy pasta and wurst. FLAMES WILL BE BURNED WITH GREEN FIRE AND MURDERED WITH A HOCKEY STICK**
He's all work and no play.
Well, he's German, a leader with a head for success. Nothing but success. It ticked him off a little bit, but at least he was nice enough to let him stay in his house.
Cooking pasta all day, now that there was no more war for a while.
Italy loved to cook pasta, if that wasn't already obvious. Although he used a lot of water (And Germany complained about it) he liked trying mixing German and Italian food together, sometimes making something Germany would ask for again, or making something the dogs would ask for again.
Either way, Feliciano wasn't going to stop cooking until he got a perfect Italian-German recipe that even his brother would eat without turning his nose up at.
"Cooking, cooking, cooking, clean, clean, cooking..." Italy sang to himself, occasionally petting the dogs that sat in the kitchen staring at him. "Nothing beats cooking and combining foods! Clean, cook... huh?"
With a glance out the window, Italy saw the neighbors – who would be Spain, and sometimes his brother – splashing around in their pool. It was... weird, to say the least. Romano was actually smiling and laughing instead of frowning and grunting around. It looked like... a pool party? There was Spain, France (Which made Italy nosebleed into the sink), America, Canada (Right?), and who looked to be Sealand.
It was a pool party for sure! And Italy wasn't invited! None of the Axis Powers were! (Aside from Romano, but still!)
Italy stood, scowling at the people and letting the water boiling the pasta run over the pot edge and onto the stove. He still didn't look away, until he smelled the scent of definite burnt pasta.
"Ve! No!" he hissed, turning off the stove and cleaning up the mess quickly, "Shit, shit, shit," he chanted, "Don't stick to the pot, don't stick to the pot please –"
Italy cussed himself out in his head as Germany entered the room, seeing the mess of boiled over pasta and the dogs starting to pull down the tray of finished garlic bread.
"Nein!" Ludwig slapped the dogs out of the kitchen, wordlessly helping Italy clean up the mess of pasta over his kitchen. He seemed calm about now. Feliciano was tempted to politely ask if he could go see Spain, just to ask about the pool party he was having, but then again he knew Germany was one to –
It seemed to be very stiff in the room. Feliciano did nothing but stare at the window, still seeing the parting nations having fun while trying to come up with an answer. "W-well, Spain's pool party distracted me..."
"I don't see why. Unless you find Francis in his Speedo sexy." Ludwig spat.
Italy started to nosebleed again, "Ew! That's, that's – EW!"
A tomato slapped against the window, both men looked at it as it slid down the glass, revealing the other nations waving and laughing at the incident.
"That's it." Feliciano slapped down his oven mitts and apron, storming outside before Germany could stop him. On the porch, he raised a fist and yelled at the nations, "What's so funny about throwing tomatoes?"
"We're trying to get your attention!" Spain called.
"Whatever! Get back to having your stupid faggot gay party! And France, no one wants to see that!" Feliciano stormed back inside, muttering about how gross the Allies where at times.
Ludwig stood in the kitchen, waiting for the Italian to return as he glanced at all the ingredients he was using for – most likely – a new recipe that combined wurst with pasta.
Not that his food tasted awful.
"Stupid Spain with his stupid pool with his stupid party with his stupid –"
Ludwig stepped back; Feliciano clapped his hands over his mouth, shocked at his outburst. "S-s-sorry Doitsu! It's just that ever since Spain got his pool he's bragging about it non-stop!"
"What are you saying, you want a pool?"
"No! I was Spain to stop bragging about the damn thing!"
Germany rubbed his head, most likely fighting one of his upcoming migraines and said, "Look, Italy, that's what the curtains are there for."
"Of course!" Italy jerked the kitchen curtains closed, picking up the pot he used when the pasta boiled over and started to fill it, "Now I have to start over."
Ludwig saw that Italy was using cold water, when he usually used hot water – so the pasta could get done faster as he claimed. Was the house too hot? Maybe that's why Feliciano was a little bit bitchy today.
"Italy... is it hot in here to you?"
Feliciano sighed, and in his head he yelled "Of course it is you bastard!" "J-just a little bit Doitsu."
That was it!
"B-but you'd don't really have an AC do you?" Italy took the pot and placed it on the stove after resting his hand against the side of it, then holding it against his head.
"No. I just have fans." Germany muttered.
"Well, can I go get one?" Italy sounded more like himself, turning around to face the German with a smile.
'He's complaining about Spain's pool... he's burning up...' Ludwig did some quick thinking, while telling Italy it was OK that he goes fetch a fan to place in the kitchen.
About five minutes later, Italy was watching the pasta, feeling the air of the fan he found blowing against him. He was still hot, but at least this was better this not having any air at all.
Or watching Spain have a pool party.
At the same, Germany had been making sure the dogs didn't get in the kitchen again (The way they begged for food, Italy about gave half the pantry to them once) using a spray bottle full of cold water to annoy the dogs into leaving.
It made Feliciano laugh, hearing Ludwig yell, "Nein!" and then hear the spraying sound of the bottle. It was, very, unlike Germany to do something like that.
Then again, the house could cook a turkey with the temperature it was at.
After the dogs were irritated enough by the water and left the hall to go sit in another room, Germany sat the spray bottle down on the counter – next to Italy.
As hot as it was, Feliciano couldn't see how Ludwig wouldn't want a spray down. He picked up the bottle after turning off the noodles and turned in Ludwig's direction. Back facing him – Feliciano definitely had the element of surprise on his side at that moment.
Italy snuck up behind Germany, waiting for him to turn around before pulling the trigger and spraying the blond in the face, rewarded with an annoyed grunt. Italy giggled in triumph, "Gotcha." He said.
Germany wiped the water out of his eyes, blinking at Italy before realizing that he had the spray bottle. Smirking, Germany reached over to the sink – keeping in eye contact with the giggling Italian as he grabbed the extension sprayer. Quickly, he turned on the sink and held the button down, drenching Italy in the cold water that came out.
"Gah!" Italy felt water hit him in the face, shaking it out as he pulled the trigger on the bottle, "That's not fair Doitsu!"
"It is in my case!" Germany laughed as he continued to wet Italy, and while Italy continued to wet him – slowly.
Feliciano saw a pot that he had filled with water to boil wurst in, smiling as he slowly made way for it. Looking back at Germany with difficulty – because of all the water that was getting in his face – he grabbed the handle and lifted up the pot, dumping it on Ludwig, "Take that!"
Ducking down, the water falling onto his back and messing up his slicked back hair, Germany somehow managed to drop the sprayer. Italy snatched it up before the other man could get it back and sprayed, laughing like a little girl.
Nothing to attack with but the spray bottle, Ludwig twisted off the top and reached above Feliciano, chuckling with little joy as he squealed at feeling the cold water hit his head.
The water fight stopped for a second, both men saw how the fight wasn't fair with only one of them having advantage of the sprayer.
"Ve, my shirt is very wet Doitsu." Italy muttered, "But at least I'm cooled down."
"Yes, Italy," Germany replied, "At least you're cooled down and not ticked off –"
"But you're hardly wet!"
"You hit me in the face and chest with the sprayer –"
"Well, your entire shirt isn't soaked!"
"And this matters, how?"
Italy stripped himself of his shirt quickly, keeping the sprayer and pointing it at the German, "It's not fair that I lose the dry shirt contest!" without warning, he pushed the button and soaked Germany – who had been staring at the shirtless man's chest.
'N-nothing muscular, j-j-just as I –'
Germany picked up the pot that held the water which Italy used to dump on him – letting it catch the water that Italy sprayed. It didn't hold much, but enough to where he could dump some water on Italy while he himself got soaked.
"V-Ve! Doitsu! Ha, hehe, Germany!" Italy found himself pressing against the German's wet, clothed chest everytime he reached above him with the pot to dump what water he managed to catch.
He wanted that stupid shirt off, now.
Italy aimed the sprayer at Germany's face, smiling at how he almost dropped his pot and tried to block the water attacking his face. Quickly, he reached forward and grabbed the bottom of the shirt, jerking it up with force and – getting pushed away by the other man.
"Aww!" Italy crossed his arms in a pout, the water stopped attacking Germany.
"No." the blond was red faced, realizing what the Italian just tried to do.
Ludwig said nothing, but that face that Feliciano was making made it hard to say no. Sighing, he slowly grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it off with difficulty – from its weight from being soaked.
Feliciano wanted to drool at the sight before him now, for some reason Germany only looked so – embarrassingly – hot without a shirt on, and wet. Two things in one, and that look of true embarrassment on his face...
"Ve! We're both guys Doitsu!" Italy reassured.
"Um, yeah..." Germany muttered, 'Damn, how come he has to look so... cute?'
"Gah!" Italy turned the sprayer back on, hitting Germany right in the chest. Growling, Germany looked around to find something to get back at the other man with.
There was always ice cubes...
Sliding across the now wet floor, Ludwig made way to the fridge, Feliciano laughing and aiming the sprayer after him.
Opening the door to block any water that could make his attempt to get ice harder, Germany grabbed the frozen water and plopped them into a cup of water that was sitting in the fridge. Hoping he wouldn't hurt Italy, he poked his head around the door and threw the containments of the cup at him.
Seeing the water and ice, Italy ducked, the icy water hitting his back and a few cubes slapped his shoulder – but he was otherwise OK.
He stood back up, only to gasp and duck again, avoiding more water and ice thrown at him. "Alright, not fair!"
"Is to." Germany laughed, filling up the cup with water from the other door's water dispenser.
"Is not!" Italy argued, pulling the extension as far as it could go to try and spray Germany.
"Don't argue with me! I'm always right!" Germany threw the water in the cup at Italy – who didn't duck seeing any ice.
"Yeah, sure you are!"
"Well, let's count how many times you've been right!" Germany looked at the pot he left on the other side of the room, seeing it as another thing to fill with water and slap Italy with.
"Why are we arguing about this?" Italy stopped the flow of water coming out of the sprayer.
"Because... I said this was fair and you didn't." Germany flew out from behind the door, making way for the pot as Italy aimed at him and started spraying again.
Ludwig grabbed the pot's handle, but had to grab the side of the counter for balance on the slippery floor. Feliciano laughed harder and harder, watching him balance with water under his feet and water mauling his side. That seemed to be the funniest thing he was going to see all day!
Trying to make way back to the fridge door, Germany started to run, but slipped, gawking at how easily he could lose his balance now. Luckily for him, Italy was right in front of him, "I got you Doitsu! Don't wor- mmh!"
Without either one meaning to, their mouths collided, as Germany grabbed Italy's shoulders for balance – and leaving all of his weight on Italy as his feet slipped out from under him. Italy – being one not much for holding up weight – fell down, letting the German fall on top off him, lips still resting on lips.
Neither pulled or pushed away, the sprayer was released – laying on the floor – the pot was tossed to rest in front of the fridge, and Feliciano and Ludwig lay on the floor, shocked that their lips were still in contact.
'A –a- a kiss?' Italy thought 'From Germany's mouth?"
Just as he was about to sink into the joyful feeling of Germany's mouth, Italy felt the other pull away. Looking at him – realizing he had closed his eyes during the whole ordeal – Italy saw the German's face as red as a tomato.
"Um..." Germany managed, starting to attempt to get up before Italy grabbed his face.
"No." Italy whispered, pulling Germany's face back to his, "Kiss me again."
"Italy, that was an accident –"
"I don't care. Kiss me again."
Without any further argument (But a sigh) Germany leaned down and pressed his lips to Italy's.
The Italian wrapped his arms around the German, holding him close – chuckling in triumph as he started to poke the other's mouth with his tongue.
Ludwig opened his mouth the slightest bit, Feliciano tried to get into his mouth – but the other's tongue made way into his own and started rubbing the roof, teeth, own tongue –
"Mhp." Italy said, pushing his tongue against the German's, fighting for dominance – although he did like it when Germany won the battle. (Yes, they made out a couple times before, but that was when they were tipsy.)
Breaking for oxygen, the two looked at each other as they panted lightly – blue eyes seeing the love and – strong – need in brown eyes. Italy blinked a few times, seeing Germany kiss his cheek, then lower his kisses down his neck, lightly kissing around the collarbone.
The two froze, realizing that they were still in a messy kitchen. Well, Germany realized that the kitchen was messy, Italy just realized that they were still in the kitchen.
"Um, how about we clean this up and..." Germany nodded his head to the kitchen doorway.
Italy smiled, "Sure..."
Apparantly, Germany isn't all work and no play after all.
Outside, the nations that had the pool party peeked through a little crack in the curtain. Lovino and Sealand had long gone back inside, leaving the other nations outside.
"Ah, love, it happens to the weirdest of people, non?" France asked over Canada's head.
"As long as it's not with Russia." America laughed.
"Oh, that'd be really scary." Canada muttered. "But so is France in a Speedo."
"Guys, guys!" Spain said, "The only thing that is really scary is the fact that he agreed!"
"What are you saying?" France asked, "That you know something about Germany that we don't?"
"N-no! What makes you think I'd do something like –?"
"Ew! Spain and Germany did it!" America scooted away from Spain, Canada giggling madly while resting his head against the wall.
"No, we didn't." Spain said, "If he agreed, then you know what France is gonna do."
The other nations all looked at France, who glared back with wide eyes, "What makes you think that'd I do such –"
The nations turned and saw Germany and Italy, glaring at them with crossed arms. "Do you mind? We're trying to have a nice day without perverts at our window." Italy spat.
"Go away France." America said.
"Yeah France go away!" Spain agreed.
"We meant all of you." Germany growled.
"Um... OK." The scared nations walked away slowly, occasionally looking back at the two.
"I feel sorry for Italy still." Spain said.
"Why?" Canada asked.
Spain smiled, "Because I heard that German's aren't ranked very high in bedroom happiness."
France snickered, "And we both know why."
America made a face, "Seriously?"
"Yeah, don't most Germans smell when they do it?"
**Yeah, not as much of a funny ending as with Dancing in the English Rain, but still, I wanted GerIta with water – and this came to mind. If you liked it say so, if not, don't bother leaving a comment. KTHNXBAI**