SOY: it has been a while since I last posted a chapter for this particular fic, but I thought it was about time I did. Please enjoy!

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Rating: K+

Warnings: the most you can see is a suggestive image, a lot of magic, and crack.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I do not make money for writing about it, but I do have fun.

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Unspoken Truths

Chapter 03

It took the Italian Nation a couple of seconds to come out of his stupor caused by England's words, and by then they were already flying above the borders between France and Italy.

"It shouldn't be hard to revert a body s–swap! Why did you call me?" Italy fidgeted on top of his lion, shivering.

"Because it's not a body swap! It's an attitude swap! Alfred is still Alfred, but he acts like Natalia!" England coaxed his unicorn to float faster. "He's still as strong as he was before, but his fixation isn't with me only –when I tried running, I heard him phone–calling Matthew, and…"

"I want to go back, ve~" Italy looked to the side, patting the head of his flying lion, but it roared at him, huffing out and refusing to turn around. "V–ve? You can't disobey! N–Natalia is scary!"

"You have to help me!" England forced Mr. Sparkly to shift closer to the Italian; the abrupt movement made Germany, who was still lying sideways on the unicorn's back, grunt in uneasiness, his hands grasping at the 'nothingness' underneath him hoping not to fall.

And just in case, repeating 'I believe in flying invisible unicorns' in his mind. With his world upside down, he could do as much.

"B–but how did it happen?" Italy trembled and shook his head wildly. "I thought I had told you not to try magic… any magic… when drunk! You know things like these happen! V–ve~"

England flushed and looked to the side, clearing his throat in shame. "It's hard to remember that when you're actually drunk, Feli!"

Germany's eyes snapped open as England's words penetrated his foggy brain. Just what did England call Italy again…?

"You bring your wand when you know you're going to drink yourself under the table!" Italy fidgeted and glared over at the English nation. "Wouldn't it be simpler if you could just let it at home?"

England's cheeks turned even redder. "I…" he knew Italy was right, but… how could he leave the wand at home?

"Ho capito, ho capito, " the Italian Nation murmured, glancing at the embarrassed England with what he hoped was reassurance. "I'll… I'll try to help you, ve~ n–now, tell me what happened, please?"

England bit his lower lip. He could barely remember what he did, yet…

~Flashback~

"–an' that's why Helge's curl floats… hic!"

England looked up from his empty glass and stared at where Denmark was. He didn't know which one of the two Denmarks had spoken, but it had to be one of them, for sure. It wasn't the alcohol speaking, either. Though, they were both smirking as though having accomplished something splendid.

With a grunt, the Englishman shrugged and snapped his fingers at the bartender, making a vague signal that he wanted a refill.

"T–that's all bullsh… –hiiiit" Prussia wailed from his corner, holding up his beer and sloshing it around, so most of the liquid inside the glass fell all over his lap. He laughed at his own messiness. "Yah cannot prooooove it!"

England didn't really remember when Denmark had joined them. At first, it was just himself, America–stupid and Prussia–imbecile ('heehee, funny names. Haha, the Great British Empire will show them where they can shove it!'), then the Nordic Idiot had popped around to mess things up.

Though by then England had already gotten wasted, so…

Somehow, the thing had progressed from America and Denmark being all buddy–buddy to them trying to publicly shame someone they knew, which in America's case was Canada, and in Denmark's was Norway.

Not that England had been listening, of course –he knew enough of Norway to fill up a few (magic) books, and he was there mostly to get drunk out of his mind– and he didn't care about shaming someone!

He wanted to boast! He was the great Empire of Britain and Northern Ireland! He'd done a lot of awesh… hawe… aw'sshum things as well!

Like the time he summoned the trolls!

Urr, wait… England pressed one hand on the table, trying to get his fumbled thoughts to turn coherent. No, he had summoned the trolls, but it had been Italy the one to chase them away.

Ok, that didn't count then.

Boast about Italy would be cute! Italy was cute. Cute eyes. Silly but cute. Bouncing curl, bouncing, bouncing…

Helpful when England needed him about magic. Scared away during the war.

Bouncing!

England's mind slowed down, busy picturing a bouncing curl.

But no, he couldn't boast about Italy, because the flying giraffe said he shouldn't tell others about magic. No, wait, not the giraffe, but Italy. Flying Italy?

Ooh, yes, flying! Britannia Angel!

"I fly" he stated proudly, and was ignored.

America and Prussia were singing together now, and England groaned, downing his newest glass in one go. It helped, because when he stood up, he knew exactly what he was going to boast about.

"I can make Roshia ob–oblige me!"

That had made the other three turn around to stare at him in shock. England pushed his chest out and smirked, nodding to himself.

Yes, that was perfect.

Puh–rrr–fect.

America stumbled forwards, grasping England's shoulder to keep himself up, and glared into his eyes.

"Liar," he had hiccupped. "N'body can make Ivan oblige 'em!"

"It's nut oblige, it's o–oh… obligate!" Denmark interjected intelligently.

"Whut–ever," England waved his hand around, and blinked when a rain of alcohol hit his head. He stared at the hand holding his drink and realised he'd been waving that one around.

He chuckled.

"Show me!" Prussia demanded, standing up. "I won't believe you!"

England rolled up his sleeves, taking his wand out from a pocket, together with some chalk he kept around all the time, and smirked.

He would show them how he made Russia obligate!

~End Flashback~

"… and that's it," he muttered, looking to the side.

Italy remained completely silent. "You said you'd make Russia… obey you?"

"Well, I was completely wasted!" England reacted, clenching his hold on Mr. Sparkly' fur. The Unicorn reacted with a snort and a glare.

"That doesn't mean you can boast around about that! You know Ivan is mostly impervious to magic, ve~!"

"I know! But… I did summon his head, once!"

"And you closed the basement with cement! With Ivan inside!"

"He did come out of it, eventually…" with a shrug, England straightened up on Mr. Sparkly, wondering why they were taking so much to get to his house, rather embarrassed.

"For a week, Arthur! A week! And you don't even know how he got free!"

"I… ah! There it is!"

Completely relieved, England made Mr. Sparkly lower to the ground right in front of his house; it looked eerily calm, and the English Nation shivered, snapping his fingers as he jumped down from the back of his friend.

The unicorn nodded and disappeared.

Germany, who had noticed the ground was finally close again, had no time to get off from Mr. Sparkly, and fell right on his face, meeting closely with the ground he'd missed so much.

"Ve~ everything seems normal…" Italy glanced around, cracking his knuckles. "You can go now, I don't think I'll need you anymore," he turned to his Lion, who flapped his huge wings once before roaring in response.

Seconds later, he disintegrated in the air, the particles forming the shape of an open book before closing and vanishing.

"Ok, ve~ you don't remember what you did to swap things, but if you boasted about controlling Ivan, it means you started with a magic circle," Italy took out a thin wand from somewhere, pointing it at the ground. "Let's find Alfred first to see the extent of your magic, I might be able to scan his body and recognise the spell!"

Germany stood up, shaking, and coughed into his hand. You couldn't say he was converted, but…

"What can I do to help?" he asked, also looking around. He had the feeling things were going to get quite problematic soon enough.

"Ve~ Ludwig will protect me, right? If Alfred is scary!"

For some reason Italy's words made Germany's bad mood disappear, and he stared at England with superiority for a moment, almost smirking smugly. Almost.

"Of course I'll protect you, Feliciano," he stated.

England frowned and turned around. "Let's go" he grunted.

…–…–…–…

"Grab the salt, Ludwig," England ordered the moment they stepped through the entrance. "We might need it."

"Salt?" Germany frowned, but since he had no knowledge of how these things went, he nodded despite his disbelief.

"Ve~ and try not to touch anything else in the kitchen~ Arthur's cooking is truly something else!"

England flushed crimson and poked Italy's side. Italy giggled and poked him back, making England smile despite himself.

Disgusted, Germany hurried left where England was pointing.

"All this closeness… shouldn't be right… Feliciano and I should be–" Germany's grumbling fell into silence the moment he stepped into the kitchen, mouth snapping open.

The kitchen was a complete mess.

There were spoons and utensils scattered everywhere, and the floor was completely covered with flour; the walls looked sticky and greasy, almost as if someone had splashed them with eggs and oil, and the table was covered with remains of something coloured blue and pink.

Bright blue and pink. Probably neon.

Germany's insides clenched in pain and his fingers twitched.

'So dirty…'

He looked around, trying to locate the salt, and grabbed the pack as his eyes continued shifting everywhere in the kitchen. What the hell had England been doing in there? Why did he leave everything so messy and dirty?

Germany didn't even realise he was cleaning the table with a cloth until he was halfway through, his brain filled with images of how he should point this out to Italy so that the Nation would realise Germany was definitely better at these things.

Snapping out of it, Germany backed away from the table, throwing the cloth on the floor… then kneeling to pick it up, placing it on the table instead.

"Ludwig?" Italy peered from the door, wondering why the German Nation was taking so much for a bit of salt, and froze, staring at the mess. "Santo cielo!"

"Oi, Feli, is there something– bloody hell my kitchen!"

Italy pressed his hands on England's mouth to block the curses that were trying to come out, and shook his head. "Shhhh! There's no need to yell!" then he turned towards Germany "Ludwig~ it's not the time to clean!"

Germany flushed crimson and dropped the sponge in the sin with the expression of a cat caught licking some cream.

"My poor kitchen! It'll take me hours to cleanse it up! The hell is this?"

Italy picked some of the blue and pink substance with a finger and carefully licked it. His expression turned unreadable. "That's… icing".

England's face turned ghostly white. "A–Alfred? Why would he want to cook a cake–"

"Ve~ I don't know… maybe he thinks he'll get you with a cake?"

"… that's preposterous! I always disliked his food!"

"The icing is yummy, though… unlike your own attempts at sweets".

"S–shut up!"

"Ve~ get the salt and let's get out of– Ludwig! I said stop cleaning, ve!"

Germany dropped the spoons into the sink and coughed into his hand, embarrassed.

Checking the entire floor was useless, as America was nowhere to be found. The three returned to the entrance, and England pointed upstairs, sighing.

"Maybe we should check the second floor now".

"Ve~ I'm starting to get hungry now…"

"We'll eat when everything returned to normality, Feli".

"Ve~"

The staircase cracked under their footsteps, and Germany inwardly cringed, shaking his head and looking around to see if there was anything he could use as a weapon. If England wasn't lying and they were going to have an America with Belarus' tendencies, things could get pretty nasty, pretty soon.

The first room they got in was empty, and so was the second.

The corridor was completely silent around them. Italy shivered, then he sniffed the air, his expression turning to one of hunger.

"I smell something yummy~"

England didn't even have the time to make him stop –Italy rushed forwards, pushing the door on the end of the corridor open wide.

England's bedroom.

For a moment, Italy blinked, then turned to the side, staring at England with a blank look. England and Germany glanced at each other, perplexed, and then joined the Italian Nation, peering into the bedroom.

"Iggy~ I've been waiting for you!"

America was sitting on the bed with a cake placed in front of him –a hamburger-shaped cake– and the moment he looked up at the Englishman, he smiled. England shivered, the sight was creeping him out.

"A–Alfred!" England screeched, clearing his throat. The presence of Germany and Italy was kind of reassuring, so he didn't run away screaming. Yet. "The hell are you–"

"I made this for you, Artie! I thought you would like a cake made by me for our wedding…"

"There is not going to be a wedding, Alfred! Stop this idiocy now!"

"Oh, but why are you saying this? Let's become one, IggyIggy…" America pouted.

"N–never!"

In the meanwhile, Italy had finally managed to get over his shock, and was slowly sliding into the bedroom, eyes fixed on America and his cake; holding his wand where America wouldn't be able to see it, he got close enough to the bed and gulped down his uneasiness.

If America was so smitten over England right now, it meant it was safe enough of him to…

"Ve~ the cake looks so yummy~"

With a silly expression, Italy leaned forwards and coated a finger with some of the blue icing, bringing it to his mouth.

The taste wasn't that bad for a cake made by America, of all people, so his gourmet stomach was spared the pain.

Quickly enough that no one noticed it, he waved his wand behind his back. The tip burned with light for a split second, then it vanished.

America turned his eyes to him, glaring at him, but Italy simply smiled, trying to keep his expression as non–threatening and innocuous as possible.

"Feliciano!" Germany tried to step into the room, but America glared at him.

"Why did you bring those people with you, Iggy? Oh! Are those our wedding best men? Feliciano, Ludwig! You're not trying to stop the wedding, are you?"

"Alfred! Stop this madness this instant!" feeling utterly silly, Germany straightened his back and stepped forwards, relieved when Italy ran behind him for protection.

"That means you're my rival! I won't let you keep Iggy away from me!" with a growl, America grabbed the cake in one hand and got down from the bed.

"Bollocks, Alfred!"

"Arthur, please, try not to worsen your condition…" Germany commented, not daring to look away from America.

Italy looked around, searching for a mirror, and was about to shift towards it that things went tumbling down.

"Let's get married, IggyIggy! Let this cake be the symbol of our eternal union!"

With that, America pounced.

Germany pushed Italy down and followed him, covering the lither body with his own to protect him, but America simply jumped over them, eyes fixed on England, whose eyes turned as wide as plates and he ran down the corridor, screaming for his life.

America followed him.

"Ve! Arthur!" Italy squirmed out from underneath Germany and pouted. "Let's go, Ludwig! We have to help Arthur!"

Germany groaned, wondering if he was still in time to renounce, then followed the panicked Italy out of the bedroom.

…–…–…–…

"You don't have to be this mean," America pouted, shrugging. "It's just that me and Iggy are made for each other!"

Germany cleared his throat, still holding America by his shoulders. England and Italy were gone in the next room to speak up about something, and the Italian nation had asked Germany to take an eye on America.

They had chased him down through England's house for almost one hour, finally finding England cowering in the attic, behind a huge trunk and a rack of old Victorian clothes, with America trying to make him wear one to re–enact something Germany had preferred not asking.

"Are you calmer now, Alfred?" he asked roughly.

"Yes, yes, you can let me go now, jeez. Sorry!"

With a sigh, Germany let go of America's shoulders, and watched him warily as he sat down, tinkering with a piece of the cake that had managed to survive the running around.

"He'll get it, don't worry," he hummed smiling up at the German. "I'll convince you to be my best man, Ludwig!"

Germany's cheeks flushed, and he refused to answer, peering at where Italy and England were discussing with a frown.

"So you felt something?" England looked in hope at Italy, who was humming, twirling his wand around. "What did you do?"

"It's disconnected, ve~" Italy pointed at America, and England turned around, watching him warily. "There's a blue aura that hovers around his head, and it… uh, it hums! But we can push it back where it belongs, I think".

"It is strange to admit it, but… I'll be relieved when Alfred gets his attitude back," England commented happily, grabbing Italy's hands in his own. "Fix him, Feli!"

"Uh~ but we need Natalia here too~"

"Ah? What do you mean?"

"We have to…" Italy made a waving motion from left to right, smiling, then "and then we have to…" he made the same move, this time from right to left. "And they'll be fine~ but they have to be in the same room!"

"Hmmm… it won't be a problem, if Natalia has Alfred's attitude, I guess…" England tapped his finger on his chin. "We should go and get her as fast as possible…"

Italy nodded happily and took a step back, waving at Germany, "ve~ Ludwig~ we have to go now!"

"Uh… Feliciano, what about…" Germany tilted his head towards America, but Italy clearly didn't get it, because he kept smiling. "Alfred…" he mouthed, still pointing at the American Nation with his head.

"Where are you going?" America asked, reaching forwards to grab England's arm. "Is it something funny?"

The Englishman recoiled a bit, but couldn't push him away.

"We're going to see Ivan, ve~" Italy answered, putting his wand away. Germany didn't even know he had a wand.

"What? Arthur is going to see Ivan?" something flashed in America's eyes. "You want to see him, and not me?"

"Uh… Alfred…"

"I'm just worried that something might happen to you… or is it that you prefer Ivan to me, Iggy? Is that it? Should I go and erase this obstacle to our relationship?" America's eyes narrowed in anger, and he cracked his knuckles, sneering. "I guess Ivan and I always had to solve things with violence…"

Italy let out a squeal as America extracted a gun, and England grunted. "Stop this!"

"Only if you don't go to Ivan's! Are you cheating on me, Artie? Are you?"

England swallowed and glanced at Italy, who tilted his head with a frown.

"Arthur will stay with you, ve~" he decided.

"What?" England and Germany looked at him with wide eyes, whilst America purred in satisfaction.

"I knew you were on my side, Feliciano~" America held Italy in his arms and hugged him.

"V–ve~"

England grunted, and America dropped Italy against Germany, holding the Englishman's chin into his fingers "don't worry, Artie, I'll take care of you, and you will forget all about Ivan! You'll be safer with me than with him~"

"Get your hands away from me! Feli! You can't really leave me here with him!"

Italy gently patted England's shoulder, and it was only because America knew the Italian nation was on his side that he did not point his gun at him for that.

"Ve~ he doesn't seem too bad if you're at his side… just…" with a shrug, he leaned closer and lowered his tone "indulge him, ok?"

"What?"

"Come on, Ludwig, let's go!" tugging at Germany's sleeve, Italy waved cheerfully at England, who squealed when America pulled him against his chest.

"Uh… are you sure we should leave him with…" Germany paused, then watched Italy. Then England. Then he moved his calculating eyes to America, and nodded. "We'll be back soon, Arthur" he assured.

"No, wait a bloody moment! Feliciano! Ludwig! You can't leave me with him! Can't you see? He's crazy, he's–"

"Ciao~"

Italy disappeared out of the room, followed by a quite more satisfied than before Germany, and England's outstretched arm fell to his side. He'd flew to Italy to be helped, and there he was again, in the arms of America, despite all he'd done to run away.

That bloody sucked.

"Let's spend some time together now, Iggy! I still have some cake remaining!"

England turned around, and took a deep breath; America was staring at him, but was strangely calm. He didn't look crazed like before. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

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SOY: ok, so that was it. Did you like it? Would you like more? If you wish, please comment, you'll make me really happy :3 there might be some hints at Canada/America in the future only for the purpose of crack, I hope you readers don't mind it too much.

Ho capito (Italian) – I understand

Santo Cielo (Italian) – Good Grief

Ciao (Italian) – Bye!