APH Like A Woman ch 3

Italy was a man of romance. He was the personification of North Italy the most romantic nation in the world. The center of all love and romance. That was Italy. Not France. Italy. It should no problem whatsoever for him to charm any girl that he so desired to charm.

That being said.

He had no idea what to do with Germany.

He was sitting at his kitchen table with a notepad in front of him and the ground covered in crumpled balls of paper and a pot of coffee brewing on the counter. He ignored with practiced ease the thumps and muffled moans coming from his brothers room. Prussia and Romano had come home an hour ago and they didn't even notice Veneziano sitting there as they passed the kitchen in a hurry to get to Romanos bedroom.

Then again they were locked at the lips and they tended not to pay attention to what was around them during those situations.

The coffee machine beeped to show that it was done. Italy rose and poured himself a cup and immediately drank ignoring the hot burn.

Refilling the cup he kicked one of the paper balls away as he sat back down on the table.

How could he charm Germany?

He stuck the end of his pen in his mouth to think better. His eyes went upwards to the ceiling as if the answer was written somewhere there.

When he didn't find the answer on the ceiling he sighed and leaned back in his chair, leaning so far that the chair was balanced only on its two back legs.

Unfortunately he leaned too far back and the chair ended up falling backwards taking him with it.

Grumbling under his breathe he stood up and after stretching placed the chair back in place. He quickly cleaned the room and threw all the papers into the trash before sitting down in the chair once more.

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed once more. What did he usually do when he wanted to flirt with girls?

He complimented them. He said how much what they were wearing complimented their figures and how skinny they looked. He would touch their shoulders or hands. Maybe give them flowers.

Practically none of those things he can use with Germany. He always hugged her so that didn't count. And he couldn't really compliment her body, he could barely tell anything about her body because of her uniform! And would she even take it as a compliment if he called her skinny?

Flowers however were another story, everyone loved flowers.

Compliments. He could mention how strong she was. He remembered what his brother had told her. She was graceful that he knew.

"Goddamnit you bastard! Don't leave any marks!" he heard his brother yell.

If he asked France for help he would never hear it down. Both of them were always fighting over who was the more romantic country and if he asked for help from him it would ensure that he would lose.

He buried his head in his arms on top of the table. He was getting nowhere and was obtaining a headache.

Maybe he was going through this a bad way. First he needed to sort a few things out.

What did Germany mean to him? He closed his eyes in order to think.

He knew that he liked Germany. She was kind and she was smart and very strong and protective. She cared about him and always protected him and tied his shoelaces. She would get annoyed when he would take a siesta in the middle of training and when he would run away whenever he saw the enemy. She would yell and order him around. She would lecture him and get annoyed when he flirted with other girls. She was very intimidating especially whenever she would stand over you with her frown in place and her arms crossed.

She always made him feel safe and whenever he would cry for her protection and run to her she would always open her arms to him and calm him. She had taken bullets meant for him during the wars and always protected him to the best of her ability. When he took siestas she would lecture him when he woke up but cover him with a blanket when he was sleeping so he wouldn't get cold or sick.

She had taken him during the Great Depression even though her own house had been in shambles and in a great debt. She would make him pasta for lunch, even if later that night they would eat wurst it was still with pasta, and lectured him softly whenever he had a stomachache from eating too much gelato as she gave him medicine.

She had looked to him for comfort when the Allied Powers had taken her brother from her. Clutching onto his uniform and crying while he comforted her. She hid her fears from him so that he wouldn't worry about her and so his image of her being unstoppable and can't be hurt by anything would never be ruined.

The one who had saved him countless times and carried him home on her back even when she had been hurt. She had gone against her boss and her brother who had told her to leave him to the enemy and had gone to rescue him and his brother.

Even when his people had turned to the Allied side and her people had invaded him she had still protected him. When one of her soldiers had found him and his brother they had prepared to shoot them both. She had appeared and stood in front of them to protect them from her own people.

He remembered his silent promise to try harder when she continued to frown at his lack of progress in training and how much she had smiled proudly when he had improved. How that smile had sent pleasure running through him and desire to see that smile more and more. He remembered how much he loved to hear her laughter, the first time had been when her dogs had accidently jumped on him and started licking his face. How she continued to smile and his own smile widened because of that.

He remembered the fear he felt when she had been in Allied control. The relief of seeing her again for the first time when the war was finally over. The desire he felt to make her smile and laugh. The pleasure he felt when he succeeded.

Every possible spare moment he had he spent with her. He slept at her house and in her bed with her more often than in his own home. When they were apart he would text and call Germany constantly. Sometimes they would chat on the computers. When they weren't able to talk he found himself thinking about seeing her again and when he would next be able to.

Italy opened his eyes and smiled.

There was no denying it, and he wasn't trying to, he was in love with Germany.

He glanced at the clock on the counter next to the coffee pot. It read five in the afternoon. Still plenty of time.

He rose and gathered his coat and shoes. Once everything was in place he left his house ready to get to Germanys house.

He was going to play this the right way. The Italian way.