SOY: so, I realised I hadn't shared this thing here yet. GerIta crack for everybody :D please enjoy, I hope you like!

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Rating: Rated R for a single semi–high rated scene.

Chapter Warnings: crack.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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Five Times… Germany made Italy facepalm

One–shot

(Uno)

"Feliciano! Are you ready? If we don't leave now, all the good spots will be taken already!"

Hurrying up to put everything he needed in his small bag, Italy moved quickly from one side of the room to the other, checking twice to see if he had his book, his beach ball and his notepad; he planned to draw the sea today~

"Feliciano!"

"Ve~ I'm coming, I'm coming!"

He had finally managed to convince Germany to have a day off from work, and what could be better than spending the whole day at one of his beaches, tanning and playing soccer? Italy couldn't really think of anything better!

He held his sunglasses up in front of his eyes, meticulously checking for dirt on the lens, then pushed them on, smiling.

He was ready.

There were tons of things to do at the beach, tons of ragazze carine to flirt with, lots of kissing and cuddling with Germany to do~ the last thing being the one he looked forwards the most.

"Ve~!"

Bouncing down the stairs, he noticed Germany was already waiting for him in front of the entrance, and tackled him happily, rubbing his chin against his chest. "I'm happy Ludwig will spend with me the whole day!" with that, he pushed himself up as much as he could and kissed Germany's chin (the only part he could reach).

"A–are you ready?" cheeks terribly flushed, the German nation pushed Italy away and cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed at Italy's cuddly behaviour.

"Ve~! Yes! Yes! We'll sit and have a beach picnic, and then we'll eat tons of yummy snacks, and then we'll play soccer, and then~"

As Italy listed everything he wanted to do, Germany moved away from him and opened the front door, stepping out in the sun and grunting as he straightened his back.

He didn't even notice Italy had fallen silent until he got close to their car, and only then did he turn around, beach bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Uh… Feliciano? Aren't you coming?"

Italy hesitantly stepped forwards, glancing with narrowed eyes at Germany as he kept a good distance between them. The German Nation frowned at him and stepped forwards.

Italy backed away from him, turning vaguely white.

"Feliciano? Is there something wrong?" ready to face one of Italy's usual complaints, Germany moved forwards again, only to have his Italian friend scoot away.

"Ve~ Ludwig… are you going to come… like this?"

Germany blinked in confusion, and stared down at himself. He didn't know what was bugging Italy so much –after all, he didn't think he had anything wrong.

The beach bag, with the towels and the food for later, and the cream for sunburns…

"Yes, why?"

Italy stared at Germany –at his Hawaiian shirt with rolled up sleeves, at his red too–short shorts, at his hairy legs, at the sunburn cream splotch on his nose and most of all, at his sandals worn with white socks– and grimaced, taking on a blank look.

"Don't you think you should… change something, ve~?"

Germany looked at him with an equally blank look, not understanding. "Why?"

Italy facepalmed.

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(Zwei)

"Ve~ Ludwig, Ludwig! Hu~g!"

Germany had barely the time to brace himself that Italy was already jumping towards him, sailing through the air and into his open arms with one of his usual silly smiles; Germany let out a huff but wrapped his arms around Italy's shoulders, obliging the other Nation with a hug and a kiss on his forehead.

"Hello, Feliciano," he muttered, his own lips twitching into a fond smile.

"Buongiorno! Today I want to cook with you, Ludwig! Let's bake a pretty cake~"

Germany shook his head, frown already replacing his fond look from before. "Feliciano, I have work to do today, and don't you have papers to sign, too?"

"Ve~ I did my share and dropped the rest on brother to come here!" Italy's smile dimmed slightly, and the sight made Germany's heart skip a beat. "Won't you bake a cake with me?"

"I…" crumbling quickly before Italy's puppy eyes, Germany sighed. "Ok, ok, let's do it…"

If there was something Germany could never resist, that was Italy, period. Of course, if he had to be honest with himself, he'd have to admit that the idea of spending some time cooking with his Italian friend wasn't as bad as he made it seem. Quite the contrary.

"Yay! I love spending time together with you Ludwig, and cooking makes me happy, too! So I'm double happy!" bouncing in sheer happiness, Italy waved his arms around and made his way into the kitchen.

With a shake of his head and eyes considerably warmer, Germany followed his friend.

After having gathered all the ingredients they needed for their cake, Italy started taking out the various tools he was going to use, such as spoons and bowls.

The German man clicked the oven at the right temperature to preheat it, then greased and floured a cake pan with the same expression he would have had back during the war as he ordered his soldiers around.

After Germany nodded, satisfied with what they had on hand, Italy happily started by cracking the eggs into a volcano of flour.

Some of the flour puffed upwards and into his face, and he giggled, wiping it away with a sleeve. Some of the flour had covered a bit of the surface he was using, but Italy paid no attention to it, busy meshing the eggs and flour together.

After that, he spun around to get the sugar that was on the table, but when he turned around again, he found Germany scrubbing with a wet cloth at the flour–covered surface.

Italy blinked. "Ve~"

"Ah, Feliciano, please don't mind me, continue it up" Germany stated, kneeling to clean the flour of the floor as well.

The Italian Nation decided not to comment, and put himself to work again. He added the sugar and the butter, and started meshing everything together with an electric mixer, sending drops of yummy paste all over the counter.

Of course, Italy didn't mind –it was the way a kitchen had to look… used. Well, at least until they had finished cooking. Why worry over a few dirty spots, since they could clean together while the cake was being baked in the oven?

With a giggle, Italy continued mixing things together, until–

Germany bumped against his elbow, cleaning with quick strokes the droplets that had fallen over the counter and down to the drawers' surface.

Italy twitched, but Germany continued cleaning, apparently not noticing the stare he was receiving.

Shifting away from Germany, Italy resumed his work, still throwing glances at the other Nation as he continued cleaning around, but things got more and more annoying as every tool Italy placed on the counter was snatched up and cleaned, despite him telling Germany that he would need it again in a moment.

He really tried to ignore him and go on (he knew Germany's strange quirks regarding cleaning) but it go too much when the other Nation pushed him away to clean the exact spot where the Italian Nation was working.

Italy's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, and he stopped his peeling the apples to tap on Germany's shoulder (he'd been kneeling to clean the cupboard again).

Germany looked up, and promptly stood up. "Have you finished with the cake?" he asked, completely unmindful of Italy fidgeting at his side. "The oven is ready".

"Ve~ Ludwig…?" Italy hesitantly nudged his arm, trying to make him stop cleaning.

Germany's already blank face turned darker in concentration, and much to Italy's shock and vague fright, he got closer and closer to his face, eyes narrowed –

"V–ve~? W–what did I do~! L–Ludwig, you're scary!"

A cloth (a clean one, not the same one Germany had been using on the counter) pressed against the side of Italy's face, trying to wipe away the flour stains.

Italy flinched away from the touch, stared in disbelief at his friend, and promptly facepalmed.

Only to make a quick retreat from Germany when he realised he'd just covered his whole face with more flour and cake mix.

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(Tre)

"Feliciano… Let me…"

Italy looked up, a warm smile on his lips.

So far, their date had been going rather fine, all considered (if you ignored the fact that throughout the whole ordeal, Germany maintained a flush on his cheeks and moved around rigidly), and Italy was quite happy.

It had taken Germany a while to admit of liking him, but since then, they had been going steady and slowly, walking through their relationship and having fun together.

After all, there was nothing he liked the most than spending time with his Germany.

And now, things were clearly moving up to a notch.

Germany had kissed him goodbye on the front door of Italy's house, but the kiss, at first a gently peck of lips against lips, had turned something more.

Tongue tracing the contours of the other's lips, tasting and sucking and licking, and Italy had found himself with his back against the door, ravished by his loved Germany.

Then, they had stumbled into the house, shedding their clothes as they made a run to Italy's bedroom.

Their naked bodies pressed together, hot and needy and desperate for each other, Germany's lips demanding onto Italy's own, the Italian nation spread on the sheets, wanton and flushed with Germany standing above him, drinking in the sight, kissing him senseless…

"Ahnnn… oh, Ludwig…"

Abandoned on the bed, Italy closed his eyes, shivering and moaning as Germany's hands started exploring his chest, fingers tweaking his nipples, tongue gently lapping at his neck, sucking and kissing on the reddening skin, sending waves of excitement through Italy's body…

"L–Ludwig… f–faster… please… I need you…"

When he received no answer, Italy slowly opened his eyes, and blinked.

Then, blinked again, unsure as to what he was seeing.

Germany was sitting over him, holding a book in his hands, and was reading it. He appeared completely concentrated on it, cheeks flushed as he flicked from page to page, again and again, back and forth, eyes wide.

Italy froze.

"V–ve…?" Italy pushed up in a sitting position and peered at the book, cheeks turning completely red when he noticed that it was describing, in detail, 'how to pleasure your Italian lover for your first time together'.

"Ah, s–sorry! I–I just…" Germany looked up, frantic and clearly ashamed, and pointed at the book. "It does feel good, does it?"

Italy facepalmed and fell back on the bed, making Germany's book fly away from his hands with a well–aimed kick.

"Come down here, Ludwig," he purred, smiling up at his lover and parting his legs wide. "You don't need a book for these things…"

Germany gulped, suddenly uneasy, but did as he was told.

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(Vier)

"Ah, it's nice of you to take me to one of your museums, ve~" Italy curled his hand around Germany's bigger arm, cuddling closer to the other nation and purring happily.

"Uh, yeah," Germany answered, more interested in how Italy was curling against him than anything else. "You're welcome".

"So, so, what's the museum about? Is it paintings? Ve~ I want to see as much as I can!" bouncing happily, Italy looked around.

They were at a small, quite cute town somewhere in Thuringia, the state that was located in the heart of Germany. It was a beautiful place, and Italy's heart was brimming with joy at knowing he was going to see a museum here.

If it was here, in such a place, it would surely be a splendid museum filled with everything that made Germany so beautiful to Italy's eyes. He couldn't wait.

"No, it is not paintings," Germany explained, cheeks flushing in pride. It was his favourite museum, of course, and had even attracted Prussia's attention. Which was always something to be reckoned with, as Prussia barely had any interest in things other than himself and beer. "I'm sure you will like it, Feliciano!"

With a gentle pat on Italy's head, Germany looked around. They were getting close, it was just around the corner…

He was quite satisfied with himself for having thought this out. He knew how much Italy loved museums, and this one would surely surprise him. It had everything –documentation from the middle ages, folklore and historical pictures– and Italy would surely be happy with that.

"So, Italy! We're here!"

Pointing his hand and puffing out his chest slightly (though he would never admit doing that) Germany pulled his lover towards the ticket stand to get into the museum.

Italy was so into his daydreaming of whatever beautiful art he could find that he didn't quite pay attention to the name of the museum, but things started looking strange once he was inside.

Looking around, the Italian Nation blinked and got closer to the nearest wall scroll, starting to read what was written on there.

Slowly, his eyes opened wide and he glanced around in shock, unable to move.

"Oi, Feliciano, don't stop there, the best part of the exhibit is this way!" Germany called him, pointing at the next room on the left.

"V–ve~ you've been… there already, Ludwig?"

"Of course I have. I come here at least twice a year, and even bruder comes here often" Germany replied, a proud smile on his face.

Italy felt disconnected as he followed him there, unable to think about anything else but the giant banner on the middle of the hall, proudly declaring the museum's name to everybody.

'Deutsches Bratwurstmuseum

Italy realised with horror that this was the reason why on the main intersection of Holzhausen (the town they were in) there was a huge sausage and bun statue, that Germany had asked Italy to take a photo of with him standing at its side.

Italy facepalmed.

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(Cinque)

"Ve~ Ludwig, please…" Italy gently rapped his fingers on the closed door, feeling sadness well up in his chest. "Could you open the door? Please?"

On the other side, Germany simply grunted and shook his head, though he did not speak or let Italy know that he'd heard him.

Italy sighed, pressing his forehead against the surface of the door, and tried to wipe away his tears.

He didn't know what had happened –the previous day he and Germany had been perfectly fine, they'd had a date in one of Italy's best places, they'd had fun, and Germany even laughed, something that never ceased to amuse and make Italy feel even happier, but today…

"Ve~ tell me at least what's wrong! Is it something I did?" Italy knocked softly again, but once again there was no reply from his lover.

With a whine that sounded like a kicked puppy, Italy slumped down on the porch of Germany's house and curled against the door surface, not understanding why the blond Nation was angry at him, nor why he was closed off ever since early in the morning.

Was it something Italy did? Was it something he said that made Germany so angry?

Italy had even ceased to flirt with girls now that he was with Germany –a sign of his love and devotion, to show Germany that he was the only one in his heart (which was the truth. There was no girl that could ever keep Italy's attention when he was with his Germany)… but maybe Germany thought Italy had flirted with the cute girl at the café early in the morning?

Shaking his head, Italy bit down on his lips. He hadn't been flirting. He just congratulated her on her baby, and meanwhile Germany was just reading an Italian newspaper…

Nothing seemed wrong.

So what was Germany doing, shut off in his house and refusing to see Italy?

"Oi, Feli~! Did you come to visit me? Huh? Huh?"

Looking up from his bout of depression and sadness, Italy saw Prussia standing in front of him, bird chirping in his hair and a giant bag of wurst in his arms, which made Italy cringe. Not that bratwurst were bad anymore to him, but really –pasta was way better.

"Ah, Gilbert~ good morning~"

"Ah, Feli, what's wrong? Why such a sad face?" Prussia sat down next to him, patting Italy's head and staring at him with wide crimson eyes. "You can talk to me, I'm the amazing Gilbert after all! Kesesese~"

"Ve~ Ludwig doesn't want to open the door for me!" saying this, Italy felt another wave of intense sadness and his eyes filled with tears once again.

Prussia backed away from him, not used to having to confront a cute Italian Nation crying at his side, and fumbled around with his wurst bag.

"Ah… let me talk to him! I'll solve everything, just wait!"

Instantly, Italy cheered up and nodded, clinging at Prussia's arm in gratefulness. "Will you? Thank you so much, Gilbert~"

With that, Italy leaned forwards and kissed both of the Prussian's cheeks in thanks, making him flush and fumble again. Standing up, Prussia kicked the door.

When it didn't bulge, he picked up his key from somewhere in the depths of his pockets and got in, leaving Italy waiting on the porch.

Minutes ticketed by, and slowly Italy started to feel nervous again.

What if Prussia didn't do it?

What if–

"Oi, Feli~ I'm back! Kesese~"

Perking up like a dog, Italy jumped up and clung at Prussia's waist, staring up at him with wide eyes, anticipation written all over his face. "Quindi?" he asked. "D–did Ludwig say why he's so angry at me, ve~"

Prussia's smirk turned almost feral. "Here, I managed to get this out of his hands! The answer is here. Don't mind West, he's just a big kid at times!"

As he started laughing, his cackle sounding more mocking than anything, Italy stared down at what Prussia was holding out –it was the same newspaper Germany had been reading in the café.

What? Germany brought that one home? Why?

Glancing down at the opened page, Italy couldn't see anything wrong. There was a news about a kid saved from a fire, some politics (which made him shiver in disgust), then…

A small, almost unnoticed article in the right lower corner of the page.

"Italy defeats Germany in the production of the best German–style dark wheat ale at America's biannual world cup," he read, disbelief in his tone. "Ve~? Ludwig is angry at me for this…?"

Prussia's cackles turned even louder.

"You know how West is, little Feli," he yowled loudly, knowing perfectly well that on the other end of the door, Germany was flushing crimson, completely embarrassed. "If there's something he's proud of, that's his beer alright!"

Italy slowly brought his hand up and facepalmed.

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uno (Italian) – one

ragazze carine (Italian) – cute girls

zwei (German) – two

buongiorno (Italian) – good morning

tre (Italian) – three

vier (German) – four

Deutsches Bratwurstmuseum (German)German Museum of bratwurst (it really exists)

cinque (Italian) – five

quindi? (Italian) – so?

There was really such a competition, and the result is real, too. (http: /www. libero-news. It / news / 389621 / Italia_batte_Germania_nella_qualit %C3%A0 _ della_birra. html) but unfortunately it's in Italian.

Basically, the article says that Italy won against Germany at the 'World Beer Cup' on the category 'Germany–style dark wheat ale' at the 2010 competition held in America (it's every two years). I think Germany would be both angry and embarrassed at being surpassed by Italy, of all people. And I think he has his pride when it comes to beer, wurst and such :D

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SOY: I definitely had fun coming up with ways to make Italy facepalm. I hope you people also enjoyed!