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Despite his reserved disposition, Christmas time highlights the year for Germany. All throughout the world everyone has different and unique ways of celebrating. As Christmas spread throughout the globe it became more commercialized, as evident through Alfred's belief in “x-mas over christmas”. Though Germany is wary of this change, it does lead to tourists flocking to his homeland in droves to experience the Christmas markets. Or- as they’re called in German, Weihnachtsmarkt.
Of course his lousy European neighbors celebrate it as well, but it doesn’t have the horrors that comes with Austria’s need for Krampus. He never really understood that guy, for such an artisan he would enjoy cheap jumpscares? Scheiße.
But the point is, Weinachtsmarkt serves as an economic boost for the Deutschland that Ludwig adores so dearly.
That’s totally the reason. The most reasonable reason for engaging in such festivities. Surely there are no ulterior motives or reasons to why Ludwig was taking this holiday season with such excitement.
“Ve~ Ciao Germany! It’s so cold!” Italy was waving his arms above his head as (almost) as fast he could retreat from battle. He looked already hyped up on… sugar? Coke? Pure Italian bliss that seemed not to diminish in the harsh German winter weather? Whatever it was, Germany was going to hide his excitement to see Feliciano.
“Of course it’s cold, its vinter,” Germany stared him down. “I told you to pack to account for the weather here and not to dress for your overstimulating Mediterranean climate.”
“Eh? But Germany! Germany!” Italy twirled around in the parka he brought. “I bought this big parka from one of the department stores here!”
“Is that so? Then why are you still cold?”
Italy gave the most thoughtless smile. “Because I forgot to pack and I’m wearing a tank and shorts under this…”
“ITALY! YOU DUMMKOPF! Of course you're NOT warm, that overpriced parka is the only thing remotely made for this type of weather!” steam was coming off Germany’s head in the chilled atmosphere.
“H-how did you know it was overpriced?” Italy was stammering.
Germany yanked the sleeve of his coat, sending Italy stumbling into his (properly clothed) bicep.
“Here.” He pointed to a paper tag on the edge of his coat and squinted. “97 EUROS?!?! ITALY ARE YOU INSANE?!?! WHERE COULD YOU HAVE POSSIBLY BOUGHT THIS?!?!?”
Germany was so enraged at this point he was holding Italy off the ground with one hand as he convulsed.
“Wha-wha-listen! I just bought it at the airport! I saw in the window and the pretty store attendant lady was a-totally checking me out! And I needed it so whats the harm?”
Germany dropped Italy to the ground, sighing into the palms of his hands. “Because you spent 97 Euros on a parka that's 99.9% polyester and does not keep you warm at all.” He ran his fingers through his already slicked back hair trying not to pop a blood vessel. “Are you at least wearing underwear?”
Italy’s face turned red like a tomato. “Germany that’s kinda l-lewd, ve~”
“You.. YOU DUMMKOPF I DIDN’T MEAN UNDERWEAR FOR YOUR LOINS I MEANT THERMAL UNDERWEAR.” Germany curled his finger under his coat and pulled it, exposing his clavicle and the black thermal underwear underneath.
“Oh. mi dispiace.”
Great. Now Germany had to take Italy to get proper winter weather wear so the country didn’t freeze over. Which cut both into his budget (Italy was flat broke after buying that parka) and the time he had already allotted in his head for going to the Weinachtmarkt with Italy. He had imagined everything going smoothly and having plenty of time to spend with Italy… showing him his culture and all. Any last minute change almost always causes Germany to pop a blood vessel, but at least Italy wouldn’t be freezing his meatballs off now.
Finally, after all that, they were back on track. The town square was filled with lights and illuminated Moravaian stars. Germany looked as the warm yellow of the lights dimly lit the hazel of Italy’s hair and eyes. He was smiling and they had not even done anything yet. He felt a warmness rise in his chest, and that warmth wasn’t coming from the proper thermal underwear he had on.
“Ve~! Germany looks like they have drinks!” Italy grinned ear to ear, as his smile folded into the cutest dimples Germany had ever seen.
“Ja, das ist Glühwein, it’s a type of spiced wine that-”
“Drei Glühwein, bitte!” Italy cheerfully ordered.
“ITALY YOU IDIOT IT’S ZWEI FOR TWO, NOT DREI-”
The vendor had already prepared and served them 3 drinks.
“Ehe, well it's just one extra drink, how bad could it be?”
“I suppose you're right, but these kinds of markets tend to be expensive… and because of your stunt we’re already overbudget!”
“We’re”
Germany scowled. “Ja, we’re- we are, are you forgetting english too?”
Italy smiled. “I just think it's so endearing how you see us as a pair.”
Germany was caught a little off guard by this and blushed for about a nanosecond. “Be quiet and drink your Glühwein.”
The two enjoyed their drinks but then the question of who should get the third cup came up.
“Drink it, you ordered it after all.” Germany said this as if this was a diplomatic matter.
“Ehe! I couldn’t a-possibly! You paid for them!”
“Ja und? We’ve established that you make poor financial decisions. You ahem attempted to speak my language so… um… enjoy…yourself.”
Italy placed his hand on Germany's forearm and laughed. “But I didn’t do it properly? Hehe, next time I’ll pay if you order carbonara in Italian.”
“Great settled, ja. I’ll learn Italian so I can refuse to speak it instead of not knowing it.”
Italy whined. “Cmon Germany! Speak my beautiful language to me! Ve~!”
Germany’s ears turned red. “I don’t know any of that stuff besides the stereotypical phrases. I refuse.”
“Eh? Germany please! It’ll be so cute!”
“You don’t want me bastardizing your beautiful language.” Germany looked shyly away.
“That’s nonsense! Anything out of your mouth is nice~”
Germany quickly had perverted thoughts to repress. He cleared his throat. “I… ah… ti.. Ti amo, that’s how you say that right?”
Italy looked into Germany’s deep icy blue eyes. “Sì! That’s right~ Hehe… and I guess I should Ich liebe dich then?”
Germany’s processors short circuited and he blushed for a whole 30 seconds! Talk about a freeze!
“Ja that… Ja”
Earth to Germany…? The blonde surely couldn’t be dying on Christmas Eve?
Germany quickly downed the last cup of Glühwein. There goes diplomacy.
“A-are you enjoying the Weinachtsmarkt, Italy? T-this is one of the shining prides of my country after all! What am I kidding… this thing brings in crazy tourist revenue.” Germany kept running his fingers through his slickback to the point it started to undo itself. “My homeland isn’t like yours… in fact my citizens go to your lovely place for vacation! Isn’t that silly? We’re so close to each other if you ignore all the borders!”
Germany was a ball of nerves. He admired Italy. Yes, Italy, the one that always slacked off during training and definitely cost their old bosses the wars (remember that it’s wars, plural!). They were entering a new modern era of unions and alliances, but Germany remembers how fleeting they were. Today's peace is tomorrow's battlefield. He couldn’t shake how futile everything was, he had existed for hundreds of years at this point but everything comes and goes. I mean, even the mighty Rome fell. But he saw Italy who had roamed this Earth for much longer than him, but still embraced the pleasures of life. Germany’s world was punctual (except for the trains) in order to cope with the futility of sovereignty, and in a day in age where everything feels so shaky he’s constantly on edge. But how! How does Italy do it? To take life one step at a time, without an instruction manual, was foreign to him.
But here he and Italy were. In his homeland, celebrating the one time of year the earth seems to stop spinning on its axis. In which he could take a breath under paper stars and trees lined with tinsels. In which everything stopped moving except for that finicky little muscle called a ‘heart’ Germany happened to have.
“Italy,” Germany’s own words almost made him tremble.
“Yes, Germany, are you alright?” Italy was worried sick to the point that Glühwein was about to come back up.
“I…. overthink a lot don’t I?”
“Eh…. d-do you want the real answer or the one I was supposed to give in training?”
“Real.”
“Yeah a lot.”
Germany exhaled. “We’ve been standing here for quite awhile.”
“Yeah it’s getting late did you want to-”
Italy was caught off guard by Germany looking directly up.
“We’ve been under mistletoe this whole time. Ah, that’s silly, I was so preoccupied with my thoughts I had not noticed it at all.
Italy’s curl started to curl inwards. “Ah! Ve! D-do they have that tradition in Deutschland?
“Does it matter?”
Italy’s curl quickly curled in, it kinda looked like a heart.
“Ehe… I s-suppose your right Ludwig, we should partake in this holiday tradition. What’s that phrase they usually use?”
“When in Rome?”
“Ve! When in Rome…”
Borders change, traditions fade, but it seems no matter what some unrequited lovers always seem to kiss under the mistletoe during Christmas. And for some reason, that belonged for even just a minute to Feliciano and Ludwig.