The summer was nearly over. With the slowly cooling temperature came the slow cooling of Germany's temperance. Soon, Italy would return to Germany. He would be whiny for the first few days, unhappy about the loss of fireflies, of ripe tomatoes, and sunbathing.

The garlic cloves would begin to pile up in his pantry, and pots of pasta would sit simmering alongside his bubbling wurts.

Long stemmed, waxy lilies would begin to peep out from every corner of the house in delicate crystal cut vases. Puccini would float sweetly through the house, as opposed to the usual Wagner which blasted and rattled the furniture.

He would prepare one of the guest rooms, knowing full well that Italy would instead be occupying his bed. Funny, even in Italy's inconsistencies, Germany had found a very happy rhythm in his oldest friend.

It had been several weeks since his visit to the Sculpture Garden, and found that he was no longer on edge from sexual frustration. He slipped comfortably back into his regime, which even he admitted didn't consist of very much without Feliciano. Paperwork, exercise, grocery shopping, walking the dogs, and occasionally reading a pleasure novel was about the extent of his activities.

Germany sat crossed legged in his favorite armchair in his library with his very favorite book propped in his lap. Unbeknownst to most, it was a copy of The Brothers Grimm fairy tales. He considered himself very fortunate to own a first edition copy. He had just begun reading the story of Sleeping Beauty when his peace of mind was suddenly expunged by the telephone. Carefully, he tucked the fold of the books paper cover to mark his page and answered it, "Hallo?"

"Germany! Germany! It's Ita-" The chatter was abruptly cut off, as though someone had elbowed him in the ribs. I heard a brief throat clearing, and then he started again, "Hi Germany. What are you doing tonight?"

His brow furrowed. This had to be the calmest he had ever heard the exuberant Italian sound, "Nothing, I suppose. Why?"

He heard Feli take a few cleansing breathes before continuing, "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight? I fixed up the dining room, and I finished another painting, and it complements the theme of the room so nicely I thought that you might want to see it! It's really so spectacular-" There was another startled pause , he cleared his throat, and continued. "Ahem, anyway, you should come over. Is seven o'clock ok?"

Now, this was unusual. Feli was never one to cut himself off in the midst of his chatter. "Um, sure. Seven is fine. Are you feeling alright today?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be? See you tonight. Ciao." There was a click, and the line went dead.

How very odd…How very odd indeed…

Feliciano hung up the phone and let out a repressed screech. Behind him, Austria smacked the back of his head, "I thought we agreed you were going to be totally and completely calm and collected the entire phone call."

Italy growled in frustration, "I tried! But whenever I hear him talk I just get so excited, and I can't help but talk and talk and talk because there are so many things I want to say to him, only sometimes I think he doesn't hear a thing I say…"

Roderich rolled his eyes and adjusted the cuff on his sleeve, "That is no excuse. It's really no wonder your advances have been so decidedly rejected time and again. Ludwig doesn't appreciate anything that is not straight to the point. Perhaps if you didn't express yourself in such roundabout ways, he might understand you."

Italy blinked, and heaved his chest in restraint, "I think I could change for him…if he wanted me to…but I don't think I want to…"

The door to the terrace opened, and Hungary stepped out tentatively, "So, how did the call go? Did he say yes?"

The young red head nodded, "He'll be here at seven. I think I'll go pick some Dahlias for the table before I start cooking. I wonder, does pasta seem too frivolous? Maybe Chicken Florentine would be better for dinner…" He trailed off, talking to himself as he stepped out into the garden.

Elizabeta eased herself onto an outdoor pouf, "Are you sure this is the best way to go about this, Roderich? I don't think it's at all romantic."

He scoffed, "Feliciano is far too flirtatious. Ludwig won't accept him because he doesn't believe him to be serious. If Feliciano is straightforward and honest about his intentions, Ludwig will have sex with him. A simple solution. It's too ridiculous that his qualms were not addressed sixty years ago."

Elizabeta curled the corners of her mouth downwards. It was no mystery to her why their marriage had never flourished. Everything was too cut and dry. Though admittedly, perhaps being blunt and honest was the best way to reach Ludwig's attention. Then again, maybe she should have taken Gilbert's suggestion after all.

Ludwig arrived at promptly seven o'clock. He supposed the last person on earth that would care if he was late would be Feliciano, but he couldn't help his incessant desire for perfection. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't a bit concerned about their earlier conversation over the phone; He sounded so desperate to contain his usual enthusiasm. It had him missing his typical exuberance.

He walked up the all too familiar path towards the inviting Italian villa. The sun was just setting below the dusky clouds. His eyes settled once again on Feliciano's balcony, now bathed in soft candlelight from the bedroom. He thought briefly on his 'Romeo and Juliet' fantasy, than shook his head to clear it.

He rang the doorbell, which was answered by Anna, the housekeeper. She smiled, but her eyes were lacking their genuineness, "Good evening, Signore Ludwig. Signore Vargas is waiting in the music room."

She showed him in, then turned toward the door again to leave, "I'm afraid that I'm now finished for the day. I hope you both have a pleasant evening." She curtsied, and exited.

Everything about this dinner arrangement was getting stranger and stranger. He walked through the high ceilinged hallways. Golden framed mirrors lined the walls along with paintings of flowering fields, prancing horses, voluptuous women wrapped in gauze like sheets lounging on beds of velvet. The scent of roses and lavender wafted through rooms, the dim golden candlelight gave the entire household an air of luxury and romance.

He heard excited, stumbling footsteps ambling towards him, before they shuffled and shifted to a more controlled pace. Italy emerged from the music room, his lips quivering in the corners, as though to restrain a grin. "Ciao, Ludwig. I'm glad you could make it. Dinner is ready in the dining room."

Ludwig let Feli lead the way, taking note of his upright posture and stiff leg movements. A beautiful dinner was laid for them: Chicken Florentine, mountains of dewy red and green grapes, plates of sliced cheese, and a bucket full of crushed ice with a bottle of Rosé.

He seated himself as Feliciano also plopped down on a cushioned Mahogany chair. "This looks delicious," Ludwig remarked, "I can't remember the last time you cooked something that wasn't pasta."

Feliciano smiled awkwardly, "I thought it would be nice to have something summery before the season was over. Chicken Florentine really isn't acceptable to eat during the winter, I find it's just too light..," He trailed off before falling silent again, and stuffing his mouth with a few grapes.

Ludwig ate a slice of the buttery, flaky encrusted chicken. He looked at the northern wall and noticed a newer looking painting, "Could that be the painting you were telling me about earlier?"

Feli turned to look in the direction that Ludwig was. It was of a choppy ocean, deep navy blues and grays swirled to together to create a turbulent, stormy ambiance. A tiny rowboat was bobbing perilously in the waves, its rower conspicuously absent. Italy turned back around to face his dinner, "Yeah…I think I might move it to the attic later. I don't think I like it very much after all."

Ludwig squinted, trying to assess it better, "It's lovely, but there's something wanting in it…there seems to be a good deal of sadness in the languidness of the brushstrokes…almost heartbroken…muted…"

Feliciano shrugged dismissively, focusing on chewing.

The rest of dinner passed awkwardly. Ludwig would occasionally try to strike up conversation, but Feliciano always answered curtly, politely, and then would revert back into silence. There were several moments that Ludwig could swear he was on the verge of tears.

When the meal was over, and Ludwig was in the midst of complimenting his friend on the excellence of the cooking, Feliciano finally looked up with determination definite in his face. He cleared his throat several times, blinked, then said in quite a loud voice, "Ludwig, I want you to have sex with me."

The German chocked on his air, turned a bright shade of crimson, and sputtered out, "W-what? Feli, you-you can't just say things like that! You'll give me a heart attack!"

Feli's eyes watered, "But I'm not just saying it. I want us to have sex. I've been wanting to have sex with you for some time," He paused, unsure, "Am I…so unappealing?"

Ludwig could hardly breathe. He felt like his throat was closing up. His stomach felt like it had been liquefied. He wasn't ready for this! He couldn't deal with this, not now! "Feliciano…Listen, you're a very attractive person, and we've been friends for a long time, so you must know why we shouldn't have sex with each other."

The petite Italian was struggling to maintain control of his voice, "Ludwig…please listen to me. I love you more than I thought it possible I could love ever again. You are so good, and so gentle, and sometimes I think that even though you are very strong and tough on the outside, on the inside you are very nervous and shy. We get along so well, even though we are very different, and I always that as different as we are, we could find similarities between ourselves to remain very good friends."

He gasped for air and continued, "Do you hear me Ludwig? I love you. I have loved you for a century now, and every minute I love you more. Did you know, an hour ago, I thought I loved you more than anyone could ever love another, but half an hour after that I realized that that was nothing compared to what I felt for you then. And ten minutes after that I realized that that love was but a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm. Your eyes are like that, did you know? Well, they are."

"There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore your voice, my knees shake with blind affection for you. Do you want me to follow you into oblivion? I will do that for you. I will be quiet for you, or I will sing for you."

His resolve broke then, and the tears came, "Oh god, Ludwig, please tell me that I have a chance to win your love?"

The minutes passed by as slow as centuries for Ludwig. His heart quivered in his chest. Feliciano was not enamored with him, he was not in lust with him, he was not a nymph, or a tease, or silly or any of those things. He was in love with him. He meant it. At that moment the world was a beautiful place to be. At that moment he felt that he would die from happiness.

Slowly, the taller reached out to Italy. "Italy…We're both so foolish."

Those were not the words Italy had wanted to hear, and the tears continued to fall.

The German shook his new found lover slightly, "I didn't believe in you because I didn't think it possible for you to love someone, not really. I underestimated you Feli, and for that I am so very sorry. But I promise I will make it up to you. I don't think we'll have to involve politics in this, do you? No, no, of course we won't. Very well then, we can make this a purely personal merging. That's all we need, isn't it?"

Feliciano stopped his sniveling, slowly starting to comprehend what was being said, "Do you love me, Ludwig? Is that it?"

Germany felt as though his chest would bust, "Do I love you? DO I LOVE YOU? Mein Gott, if your love were but a speck of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches! If your love were but a blade of grass, mine would be-"

"I don't understand the first one yet," Feliciano interrupted, now getting very excited, "Are you saying that my love is a grain of sand? Because it's not! I thought I told you very clearly how great my love was, and now you're trying to make it seem so small! It really doesn't seem-"

"Oh Feliciano please stop talking!" And before his mind could understand what he was doing, he crushed his lips to the little Italian's with a passion that he didn't think he was capable of displaying without restraint.

Feliciano moaned happily, reaching up grasp Ludwig's neck. Ludwig in turn held Feli's waist tightly, and cradled the back of his copper head. Their tongues twirled and embraced and slid along one another in a way that only made both men press closer to one another.

Feliciano was rubbing himself ever so slightly along Ludwig's body, letting out delighted little squeaks and gasps as they kissed. Something then snapped in the German. Something he hadn't felt since the days of the Third Reich. The surge of strength, the overwhelming desire to conquer and possess and ravage and impress burst inside his head. It was overtaxing.

He ripped Feliciano's shirt from his pants, tearing at the folds until the pearly buttons popped and scattered around their feet, his torn shirt falling shortly after.

Italy released Germany's mouth in surprise when he felt the air brush against his bare chest, his golden Crucifix bouncing against his sternum. Ludwig gave him little time to gape as he hoisted him up once more, forcing Feliciano to wrap his legs around his trim waist, his teeth viciously attacking the junction of his neck and shoulder.

The Italian cried out in pleasure; these new, incredible sensations washing over him like a rain storm. He soon found his back thrust against a wall, several paintings rattled on their nails with the force of the blow. Ludwig was blind to everything but Feliciano; His beautiful, loving, warm Feliciano.

On his skin he could taste the sunlight, the gentle Mediterranean breeze, the pollen of flowers, was that a hint of saltwater? Ah well, not important.

Feliciano started when he felt Ludwig's groping fingers at his pants, prying at his belt buckle. "W-wait…Ludwig…"

Germany could barely clear the haze from his brain to hear his lover, "Hmm? What?"

"I don't want to…lose my virginity…in the dining room—Ahh!"

Ludwig laughed as Feli bucked against him, "Really? I thought it appropriate. Food and love surmises Italy after all, doesn't it?"

Feliciano was too desperate and starved for love to appreciate the humor, "Pleeeaaasse Ludwig? I decorated my room so nicely."

His muddled mind flashed back to his favorite fantasy involving the balcony, and he thought briefly on asking Feliciano to play it out for him, but then decided against it, as they were both to eager for one another to waste any more time. Enough time had been wasted already.

He yanked Feliciano up, him struggling to find his way upstairs to the bedroom. He was glad to see the door already open, scattered rose petals spilling across the entryway.

The room must have been lit with sixty different candles, most of them circled around the small shrine to the Virgin Mary in the corner. It was endearing to see how spiritual and beautiful he expected this meeting to be.

Glass vases filled with roses and forget-me-nots and rodendrums stood regally on every available flat surface, from the nightstand, to the desk, to the bookcase. Petals lay strewn across the plush carpet and the fluffy queen sized bed, the covers pulled back in one corner in expectation of the couple. The glass doors leading out to the balcony were left open, a light summer breeze billowing the gossamer white curtains.

Ludwig flung Feliciano upon the downy mattress, him sinking into its comfort. As Feli wriggled in delight on the bed, Ludwig relieved himself of his own clothing. He looked down on Feliciano, his bright eyes of molten gold were welling up with tears again, "I'm so happy this is happening. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up from a pretty dream any minute."

Germany's icy eyes lidded lightly, and he nuzzled Italy's nose with his own, "I love you." He laid a kiss upon his cheek, "I love you." He laid another lightly on his mouth, "I love you…"

Feli wrapped his legs around him, "Will you show me?"

Any remaining clothing between them was whisked away. Feli lied pressed into the goose feather pillows in anticipation, his legs spread wide like a flower to the sun.

Ludwig delicately slid himself inside Feliciano's tight heat, a groan of bliss on his lips. As soon as he was fully seated, he was bombarded with a multitude of sensations. It was as though the sun was beating down upon his face, Bird's twittered in his ears, the earth squelched beneath his toes, wind whipped at his hair. Then, something strange…there was water everywhere. It was burning in his nose, flooding into his open mouth, it sloshed into his lungs, it seeped behind his closed eyelids. This invisible sea swelled all around him.

When he opened his eyes again, Feliciano was moaning and panting beneath him, bucking his hips upwards, begging for attention. Ludwig remembered himself, and thrust in deeply, earning another scream of pleasure.

Ludwig rocked against the sweet cushion of Feliciano's ass, his coltish legs flailing behind them. They pressed their chests together and meshed mouths and gripped at each other's faces and hips and shoulders. Feli left tiny crescent shaped welts in Ludwig's back from his fingernails.

When they came, it was perfectly timed and synchronized. Feliciano's eyes blinked open and his breath hitched when he felt Ludwig's seed inside of him. He constricted around him, and Ludwig shuddered in exhaustion.

The larger male fell upon the smaller, whispering in German against his neck, pressing lazy kisses and flicks of his tongue. Italy smiled gently, and petted Ludwig's sleek, untidy blonde strands. He rolled over slightly, Ludwig protesting, and crushing his slender form against his chest. He giggled, and pulled the comforter over the both of them, "Ti amo molto, mio tessoro…"

Germany dazedly laid against his lover, surrendering to sleep, and thinking briefly on the sensation of drowning…

A/N: Well? Was it worth the wait? I hope so. This was my first sex scene! How was it? Good I hope. I am sorry about the tremendous amount of time this took, but college is horrible when it comes to taking up your time. Anyway, thank you for your patience, and thank you for your reviews! They are my inspiration.