SOY: I've been interested in this pairing for a while, even if it's kind of crack. I am not even sure someone will like it, heh. First time writing Belarus. Please enjoy.


Rating: K+.

Warnings: uhm. Belarus.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.




The room was filled with humans, tight–up in their dark suits, and Italy let his gaze trail from one end of the hall to the other, keenly observing the way they moved and spoke to each other.

If this was a party like those he was so used to go to, he would have been running around already, smiling and chatting up with everybody, trying to coax someone –preferably Germany, but mostly because a flushed Germany made Italy smile– into dancing with him, but of course he could not allow himself that.

This was, by all means, a human dinner party.

The guests were contacts of his human boss and his political party, their wives, guests from politicians from around the world, but the nations like him were not many; he'd seen Bulgaria and Hungary before, chatting at one end of the hall, and there had been Greece nodding off on a chair, too.

Many nations had other things to do, other places to be.

He didn't quite mind, even though he was getting bored.

With a sigh, he moved from his position against the wall and made his way towards the buffet table, easily sidestepping a human who was clearly going to ask for his name; despite his bright attitude, he never let himself be seen around the political world, and he was an obscure incognita for most of the guests in the room.

The buffet table was mostly empty, as a few of the couples were already dancing in the middle of the hall, and Italy nodded at the man standing there, holding out his empty wine glass for a refill.

The waiter obliged quickly, and Italy turned around to return to his corner…

A man abruptly slammed against his side, sending the wine flying. Italy yelped, unable to stop the liquid from staining the beautiful dress of the woman in front of him.

"Ve~! Mi scusi tanto!" moving forwards, italy grabbed the woman's sleeve, frantic and guilty, but froze the moment the person turned around to stare at him. "Hiii! Bela… Natalia!"

A sudden wave of distress and deep fear washed over him as Italy's brain came to terms with what had happened; he had just ruined Belarus' dress.

Her icy eyes narrowed in anger, and Italy acted as quickly as he could, body turning on autopilot, holding her sleeve in his trembling hand and tugging her towards the other end of the room.

"Uh… c–come with me, if we make it quick, the stain will come out, I swear! Ve~ don't kill me please!"

He barely registered Belarus complying with his request and following him to the closest bathroom, where he frantically dabbed at the red stain with some cold water.

"I–I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he kept muttering, voice turned into a squeak. "I didn't mean to–"

"I saw it. Wasn't your fault, so shut up".

Gulping down his uneasiness, Italy fell into a tense silence. It wasn't fair that such a cute girl could make him feel like he was standing under enemy fire, but Belarus wasn't just a person, or a normal girl –she was a nation, and a ruthless one, at that.

If even Russia, who scared most of the other Nations away, was afraid of her, there was surely a reason to be afraid, too.

"Uh… you d–don't happen to have salt, right?, ve~" Italy cleared his throat uneasily, refusing to look up at the other, and blinked in surprise when a small salt bottle was shoved against his face. "Ve~ thank you~?"

Not really wanting to know why Belarus was walking around with salt on her, he gently covered the wine stain with salt, trying not to smudge it too much.

"We should… uhm, wait around ten minutes and then I'll wash it away with more water, ok?"

Finally standing up, Italy attempted to look his usual carefree self, but it was hard when standing in a small bathroom with Belarus, of all people, with him –and most of all, after he'd ruined her beautiful dress.

Belarus didn't seem to mind the silence, though she kept staring at him without blinking for a good while as he fidgeted, and Italy tried to look small and unimposing.

"So… uh…" wincing at his own wavering tone, the Italian Nation tried to make conversation. If he could have the ten minutes pass quickly… he could… he could… "nice party, ve~?"

"Boring," was the clipped reply. Belarus eyes darkened considerably. "Brother is not here".

"V–ve~" clearing his throat again, Italy forced his brain to work. "Y–you have a nice dress, Belarus!"

Only to cringe a second later when he realised that because of him, her dress was kind of ruined. He winced and shrunk away from her once more, but much to his shock, Belarus' lips turned slightly upwards at his compliment.

"Thank you," she replied stiffly.

Italy blinked once more, and looked down to the hem of the dress that he was still holding.

"I didn't know you would be at the party, ve~" he continued, strangely reassured by the lack of physical harm. "It is nice to see another nation…"

When she simply hummed in reply, Italy decided it was safe to continue talking –it looked like he wouldn't be killed tonight.

"I am sorry you are not having fun, though, uhm…" licking his dry lips, Italy looked up again, smiling uncertainly. "Maybe you won't mind, ve, if I offer you something to drink after we get out of here?"

Belarus' eyes were fixed on his face, as if expecting him to add something, or maybe that was just her normal expression –Italy's skills at understanding the opposite sex only went as far as normal girls were concerned, Belarus was an incognita– but after a small pause, she nodded, and he relaxed some more.

Maybe this wouldn't be that bad.

Even more reassured, Italy found himself chatting a bit more spontaneously, lifting his eyes to look at the other Nation's face every now and then to see if that strange quiet was the prelude to a killing spree, but all that he could see was Belarus still staring at him, and albeit a bit creepy, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

She was cute, after all –the sort of cold beauty that Italy truly appreciated in a woman– and like this, without the freaky bouts she had towards Russia, she really looked different.

Maybe Italy had been a little unfair on her…?


Her voice made Italy's brain reel back into track, and he looked up at her, eyes wide. "V–ve?"

"Ten minutes," she stated, pointing at her dress.

Almost falling on the floor in his haste, he soaked his handkerchief in cold water again and proceeded to wash the salt away. Much to his relief, the stain of wine had turned into a slightly bigger transparent stain, meaning the majority of the wine had been washed away.

He breathed out, definitely happy, and stood up, brushing the fabric of the dress with one hand and smiling happily.

"Ve~ all done, you just need to wash it off once home~"

With a curt nod, Belarus turned around and exited the bathroom, leaving Italy behind, gaping at her back.

The moment he dared to relax his shoulders, thinking he was safe, she looked back at him sharply from above her shoulder, and tilted her head towards the party hall.

"Drink," she reminded him.

Nodding in understanding, he got up to her and, forgetting whom he was talking with, offered Belarus his arm, smiling courteously.

Five long seconds passed, and Italy was once again starting to think that maybe this wasn't that good of an idea, when he felt her hand delicately press against his arm; his smile turned pained when the grip intensified almost to the point of bone–breaking, but the moment he showed his distress with a soft gasp, Belarus loosened her hold to a more relaxed one.

Italy took a shuddery breath and conduced her back to the dinner hall.

"Here, I hope you'll forgive my bad manners, ve~" offering her a cup of the same wine her dress had already tasted, Italy bowed a bit at her, deciding that a bit of chivalry wouldn't have him killed after all.

Grabbing another glass, he gently led her to the corner he'd been occupying previously, feeling like it would be rude to just drop her alone, yet not sure about what to do then.

They sipped the wine in silence for a bit, observing the humans moving around them, but soon enough Italy's eyes were back on Belarus. He prided himself to be good at understanding people, and he did notice how her eyes returned to the dancing couples a few feet away from them.

Gathering courage to do what he was going to do took almost a full minute.

"Uh… Natalia…" her eyes looking at him again made him stop and gulp his uneasiness down. "Ah… would you like to dance, ve?"

A second later, a knife was pressing against his throat, and he froze.

It took him longer to realise it wasn't a real knife, just Belarus' finger pointing there. 'V–ve~ so scary~'

They looked at each other for a long time, with Italy attempting not to slump on the ground begging for help, and Belarus not showing a single emotion on her face; then, with no further prompting, Belarus offered his hand to Italy.

"Ah? O–ok? Ve~ splendid!"

Animated again, Italy held Belarus' fingers into his own and let her to the dancing floor, feeling a bit silly but definitely happy. After all, he was about to dance with a beautiful woman, he shouldn't look into the gifted horse's mouth.

Once in the middle of the dancing couples, Italy hesitated; this was not Germany, so of course he should be the one leading, but Belarus didn't look like she'd like being led, either…

Belarus, on her own, was about to grab Italy and conduce him through the current song when she seemed to realise what she was doing. Her hand adjusted itself from Italy's hip to his shoulder, and with her other one she grabbed Italy's free hand, nudging him to a leading position.

She didn't quite like relinquishing control, but she could allow this in a place filled with humans, if only this time.

Relaxing once again, Italy smiled gratefully at the other Nation and moved.

It was strange –he wasn't used to leading, nor was Belarus used to her own lack of control, so the first few minutes were hesitant and clumsy.


Wincing when Belarus once again stepped on his foot, Italy tried to ignore the way she faintly flushed and looked away, face murderous, and instead relaxed his shoulders again; this was his field, he should behave like it was expected of him.

His grip on Belarus tightening, he finally allowed his body to relax to the flow of the music, conducing a surprised Belarus into a swirl, his feet moving perfectly in tempo with the song.

Flush receding when finally things started working well, Belarus allowed herself to be swept away, still glaring at Italy every time he did a particularly swift twirl, still unused to her position.

The music enveloped them fully, and soon enough nothing mattered but the dancing, rhythm and fluid movements stealing away the hesitation from before.

"You really are a good dancer, Natalia," Italy praised, meaning it. The way she moved around, delicate and light, was very different from her usual crawly motions when chasing Russia around.

It surely was better this way.

"Hn," she replied, clearly suspicious of his compliments.

Italy smiled warmly, humming to himself. "You look really cute in that dress, and I mean it," he continued, finally relaxed enough to appreciate the way the dress curled around her form. "Azure makes your eyes stand out even more…"

He flushed at his own words, surprised he'd been complimenting her so bluntly, but smiled once more as she looked to the side. Was she perhaps… embarrassed?

The song came to an end and Italy slowed them both down, smiling in satisfaction, and thinking he'd finally managed to make peace with the other nation he was about to leave her and return home, when he noticed Belarus' eyes linger on the dancing couples again.

"Do you want… perhaps to dance some more?"

Much to his shock, he really wouldn't mind dancing some more, either…

Her sharp nod and light blush made Italy blush as well.

"Then allow me to conduce you through the next song, Natalia… it would be a pleasure, ve~"

So he did –and he continued with the next three songs, pleasantly surprised to realise he was having fun, and equally proud that Belarus, too, apparently enjoyed the dancing.

"You don't dance much at your house, right?"

As a reply, Belarus pulled him closer, shaking her head and allowing the Italian man to twirl her around once more.

"It is a shame… you're a very good dancer, ve~" he blinked, still smiling. "If… if you come over sometimes, we can dance. I–if you want to, that is! Ve~ d–don't hurt me!"

Tilting her head to the side, Belarus observed the frantic Italian man fidget whilst still conducing her perfectly. He was, actually, quite cute, and the sadistic part of her liked his squirming enough, too.

The closeness was felt good too. Italy's hand on her hip was warm. If that meant allowing someone to conduce her, it wasn't so bad.

Besides, even if he was clearly a bit scared, he was talking to her, he'd been nice, and he was dancing with her without having been prompted to with threats and knives.

She appreciated it. The offer, too.

"That would be pleasant," she murmured back.

It was so different from always trying to get her brother, and having him run away all the time, though the sight of a trembling Russia appealed to her, too. But this was different, and altogether she liked the feeling.

"Let's dance some more," she demanded, though her voice wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be.

Her words came out more as a soft request than an order.

As a reply, Italy smiled and bowed a bit, his grip on her hip and hand tightening again.

"Sure, madamigella~"

Belarus found herself smiling a bit –such a funny, pleasant person, unlike his usual strange attitude…

"Ah! You smiled! Ve~" Italy leaned forwards a bit, flushed but proud, and gently brushed his hand on her cheek, almost offhandedly. "A smile suits your beautiful face more than a frown does, ve~ please smile more!"

Flustered, Belarus attempted to get the knife she kept with her all the time, but the honesty in Italy's eyes made her rethink the decision to stab him.

He clearly looked a bit embarrassed, yet his words were not a lie, by the way he held her close and made her spin around once, then twice, in time with the new song.

"I… I like…" she hesitated, unsure of how to continue that line. Dancing? Yes, but… your company? That was a yes, again. But not enough. He was weird, and flustered easily, and clumsy, but he was cute. Belarus liked his innocent expression. It was almost alluring to her. "… you" she ended curtly.

She'd have to spend some more time with him to see if her words would get a deeper meaning, but for now, that would suffice.

Italy smiled, uttered a soft 've', then looked to the side as well, cheeks crimson.

Then, they continued dancing until the end of the party.


SOY: so, sorry if it's so short. This was more of an attempt with a new pairing than anything, I'm afraid. I admit wouldn't mind trying to write those two a lemon, but I guess Bela would really control everything there, especially since Italy is a virgin. Hehe.

Mi scusi tanto (Italian) – I'm terribly sorry (polite form).

Madamigella (Italian) – old archaism to indicate 'miss'. It is not used anymore, but I guess Italy would still say it.