Yaey my first Hetalia Fic!

DISCLAIMER: Do you see the countries getting it on at the meetings?

Choose your answer:

A) Yes, and it's freaking awesome.

B) No, but I wish they did!

If you picked A, you live in a fantasy world like me.

If you picked B, you are in reality and should know that Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia, not me!

"WTFBBQ"-Talking

WTFBBQ-Thinking, sound effects or emphasis

WARNING: GermanyxItaly, yaoi, boy love, etc. Don't like it, then get the hell out of my story.

x.X.x

Germany could hear something strange behind him.

Clop, clop.

He discreetly took his gun out of his holster, prepared to attack the stranger.

Clop, clop.

What could it be? the blond thought. There aren't any horses near my house, unless one of Poland's 'ponies' got loose, again. Maybe Japan is wearing his wooden sandals again.

Clop clop. Clop clop. Clop clop.

The noise became louder and faster. Someone must be planning a sneak attack. Badly.

Clop clop. Clop clop. Clop clop.

The unknown thing was at least a few feet away now.

"Germany! Germany! Look! I--waaah!"

The aforementioned man swiftly turned around only to see North Italy, at least more than five inches taller than before, flailing towards him headfirst. He held out his arms to catch the smaller nation.

He caught him, but not without a kiss first.

It was kind of cliché. Like in the countless romance novels Germany read. Your lover just happens to trip and kisses you. The difference was that Italy wasn't his lover. It was a simple brush against lips, but, then again, the hopeless-in-love man had never been kissed before. The younger man's lips were soft, not chapped. His body suddenly became warmer by a couple degrees. He had this foreign feeling in his stomach, incapable of leaving him. It felt good.

The pair of men were now very close to each other. The Italian was leaning heavily on the German, his only support being the blond's arms holding him up. His knees were bent because he had suddenly become taller. His face, although crushed between Germany's arms and his chest, was still as bubbly and happy as ever.

Germany, however, was a different story. He had such a red face, that if South Italy had come in, he would have tried to eat Germany's head, mistaking it for a tomato. The blond started to sweat nervously. Only betrothed people stay this close to each other. Then again, this is Italy. This must be normal for him....but not for me! He kept ranting about how uncomfortable he was until he heard a muffled voice speaking into his chest. Cringing at the fact the small--actually taller, now--man's face was still in his chest, he released Italy who stood up right, but was still unbearably close.

"Thanks for catching me, Germany! It's gonna take a long time for me to get used to these things!"

"Things?" the blonde asked. "What things?"

"These things!" And with that, Italy pulled down his pants to reveal...

A pair of peg stilts attached to his feet.

"I got them from China! He had a bunch back at his house. I've been having a hard time walking and I keep bumping into Germany's doorways and poles and--"

"Why are you doing this?" interrupted the German. "Are you just trying to get hurt?"

The Italian 'hmm'ed for a while, obviously attempting to remember why he, being the clumsy guy he is, put those 'poles of death' on his feet and ran in them, of all things.

"Ah! Now I remember!" He seemed triumphant in his realization. "It was so I could do this!"

And for the second time today, Germany got a kiss.

Actually, make that two kisses.

Italy leaned closer to Germany and pressed his lips to the blonde's left cheek. He then swiftly did the same to the other. Romano, get ready the feast of a lifetime! Germany's eyes were wide open in shock. As quick as they were there, Italy's lips were gone, a safe distance from puncturing the German's "bubble of comfort".

"I really don't like it when Germany has to lean down to kiss me. So, I took matters into my own hands!" The curly-haired one explained.

The blonde sighed. "Really, Italy. You don't have to do things like this. It isn't a problem for me to lean down. It's only eight centimeters."

The Italian gave him a small smile. He leaned down to peck Germany on the lips.

"Still, I like to make you blush."

Cue blush from Germany.

Cue hug from Italy.