1. Ein Prolog, Un Prologo

It started with ravioli.

Most things tended to start with food, around Veneziano, but Germany had not been expecting… this.

"You mean to say you've never slept with anyone?" Veneziano looked up at Germany as if someone had just shot a kitten right in front of him. "Anyone at all?"

"I— ah— not exactly, no— well— um. No." How had the conversation turned into this? The last thing Germany remembered talking about was how to prepare the dough, and Veneziano had said "No, no, you need to go more slowly, and gently— it's not like punching things, it's like— uh— it's like…" And he'd trailed off, and then lit up in that way that made Germany's insides do very strange things, and then said "Like making love to a beautiful woman!"

Then Germany had grumbled "Oh, well, that's a big help" before he actually registered what Veneziano was saying, and then the accursed blushing had started up. And then Veneziano had quickly backtracked and said "Or a beautiful man—" which was still not a big help, and Germany said so, and here they were.

"But how?" And now Veneziano was being all touchy-touchy again, hands on Germany's face. "With your looks, you should have pretty ladies all over you!"

Germany wanted to say "No, actually, I don't" or "That would be terrifying" or "Frankly, I don't think I'd appreciate having anything all over me", but the look of sudden determination on Veneziano's face cut all those words off.

"Don't worry, Germany," he chirped, "I know how to fix this! But first we have to finish making this ravioli."

—-

Apparently, when Veneziano said he knew how to fix this, he hadn't meant let's just leave this alone and never talk about it again, which was what Germany had hoped he'd meant; and neither had he meant it as a declaration of romantic intent, which was what Germany wouldn't admit he'd hoped he meant, or even that he'd thought. Instead Veneziano had meant "Let's make a list of all the ladies I could set you up with except for the ones who're already dating and Liechtenstein and Hungary and Belarus because two of them are basically family and one of them will probably murder you and that would suck because then who would I make pasta with no Germany we have to do this sit back down!"

Germany obeyed.

"Okay!" Veneziano tapped his teeth with the pencil. "Uh, how are we going to do this… Oh! I know this great coffee shop and those are always good places for dates and they sell hot chocolate too, it's in Florence, I could set you up there!" And he beamed as though every problem in the world was now solved, which it wasn't because Germany could still feel his face heating up every time Veneziano directed that smile at him, and Germany still woke up about half the time to Veneziano in his bed, and there had been this weird feeling in his gut every time he saw Veneziano flirt for as long as he could remember, and he didn't know why, yet all he did was nod quietly because the alternative was seeing Veneziano disappointed.

Veneziano actually cheered a little, bouncing in his seat. "All right! So how're you for… ah, next Wednesday?"

"Fine." No.

"I'll give you the directions, you just have to show up! I'm sure America will love you!"

America was first.

America.

Great.