valentine's day present

[fleurinbloom.livejournal.com]

besides the obvious hre/chibitalia and italy-betrays-germany-at-end-of-WWII, is angst possible for these two?

title: the bill
summary: september 1954. they haven't talked to each other in quite a while, but that can be fixed quite spectacularly--or painfully.
characters: germany, italy
rating: K+. contains one swear word.
warning: So Much Idiocy it Hurts, punctuation abuse, general OOCness, plot device phail...
author: fleurinbloom + betaed by absoluteforever

 

September 1954, London

He wasn’t ready for this, not right in the midst of annexation and Saarland and reparations. All he wanted was a lunch before having to face Benelux, America, England, and France over their precious treaties. Although, as long as Italy didn’t turn around, he should be safe.

Germany tried to recall the last time they had spoken; was it when he had invaded at the end of the war or was it when he was separated from Prussia? No, it didn’t matter. He reshuffled his notes nervously, eyes glazing over the words “Washington Treaty” and “Brussels Treaty” scattered numerously among the papers. All he had to do was finish his curry—not potatoes, he had learned from France—and leave.

Two tables behind him, Italy desperately hoped Germany hadn’t noticed him and nervously poked at his lunch. He dubiously eyed the steaming plate of mashed potatoes he was offered; England never did have good cuisine, but the queasy feeling generating in his stomach only added to the unappealing aspect of it all.

But, the state of his hunger wasn’t important! If Germany saw him, then, then…he shook his head, and raised his hand for the bill.

“Check, please.” Germany called, stuffing the last of the meal into his mouth, and cringed as he heard Italy echo that, albeit in a lighter tone. Shit.

Italy let out a squeak. “V-ve~” he hunched in his chair, trying to look inconspicuous. No~ what if Germany had heard him?

The waitress came around shortly, and in true frugality, he had already preplanned the cost of the food and immediately placed the exact amount on the small plastic board, ten percent already factored in. She gave him a strange look, but picked it up again and headed towards Italy’s seat.

Italy fumbled around for his wallet, finally locating it after a few seconds and opened the leather case (Gucci, thankyouverymuch). He pursed his lips at the empty state it was in and rifled through it briefly looking for bills and finding none. The waitress placed the check at his table, giggling quietly at his apparent frustration.

Perhaps it would be better to say fear, instead of frustration as Italy went through all the compartments twice, thrice and yet came up with nothing: no cash, no checkbook. Oh. Oh no oh no oh no…

Germany stood up, dusting himself off slightly and collecting all his documents before pushing the chair back in and began to leave—but stopped a step later, as he heard a quiet sniffle.

Forget about it. It’s probably not even him anyways. Just go to the meeting. Against all rational thought, he looked behind him discreetly and groaned inwardly as he saw Italy gazing at his wallet with a distraught expression. That idiot forgot all his money, didn’t he.

His fingers twitched; shouldn’t he go over and help him? But in light of their current relationship…he began to walk out of the restaurant again, only to feel his feet freeze and start heading to Italy’s table. It’s a bad idea, it’s a bad idea…

Italy wondered what sort of payment system he would use. If he maybe washed dishes…? Or he could help cook, he would certainly be better at it than anybody here! Those things would take too long though, and he had to be at the meeting in ten minutes—certainly, England and Belgium would yell at him, not to mention Germany. Well, he didn’t know how Germany would react because he hadn’t talked to him in forever and what if he was still mad about Italy’s betrayal of course he would be but—

“Italy.”

“Wah!” The small brunette jumped, his curl bouncing as he did. “G-Germany.”

Germany coughed, embarrassed. How was he to go through this…? “I, uh, noticed you were having, er, certain difficulties with your bill,” he motioned stiffly to the root of the problem.

“Yes,” Italy nodded hesitantly, still somewhat cowed. “I guess I forgot most of my stuff back at home…”

Germany tilted his head to the side, acknowledging his companion’s words. “I-in that case, I find it prudent to—to offer to, ah, help to pay for the meal—Italy, please don’t cry—“

Indeed, Italy had started to shed tears of relief. “Germany, I didn’t know what to do! What if I didn’t find any money and I had to stay here forever and you still hated me and then I—“ he broke off in favor of all out bawling.

Germany fidgeted. They were attracting a scene…! Nevertheless, he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and awkwardly handed it to the blubbering Italian. “Italy, it’s fine, really…” he tried to comfort the other, feeling terribly useless as the man continued to sob.

A few minutes passed like this before Italy calmed down enough to form coherent words. “Y-you aren’t mad at me, right?”

The man in question considered it. He wasn’t mad…but recalling those times, would “heartbroken” describe it? Either way, there was no need to burden Italy with those thoughts. “No, I’m not.”

Italy smiled tremulously. “We’re still friends.”

Pause. They were in public—how more demeaning could this get? “We’re still friends.”

notes
They are in London for their addition to the Brussels Treaty and the Washington Treaty, as referenced above. These treaties had a lot to do with ending Germany’s Allied occupation and Germany’s eventual entrance into NATO.
The countries hosting said conference were Belgium, Luxembourg, England, America, Canada, France, and the Netherlands.
Handkerchiefs…kind of going out of popularity at that time, but I imagined Germany as somebody who would still have it. Interestingly enough, Wikipedia says that there's this "handkerchief code" that signifies if you are a S or M, if you have a uniform fetish etc. in the LGBT community. but...who knows...
Plastic credit cards were not in usage at that time, sadly.