A morning chorus of shrills, beeps, and long, lonely coos filters through the seam of unconsciousness. Dreams melt like heated wax, grim images of war bubbling and spilling away to nothing. The melody of birdsong signals a new dawn, another step by Saturn, putting evermore distance from the terrible past.
Sleepily, France blinks and peers at the curtained windows, dim sunlight stubbornly peeking around the fabric edges, broken by the small, darting shadows of wings. Truthfully, it is his own fault for feeding the feathered animals every morning; now, they have grown accustomed to the luxury of farm seed for breakfast.
He should slip out from under the shelter of his sheets and feed them, but his bed is so perfectly warm, and England’s arm, a soothing weight over his hips.
Rolling over, the bedroom’s alabaster ceiling blurring into pillows, he looks at England, whose face is half sunk into the duvet. His breath comes softly.
France drags a finger across his forehead, brushing aside his messy, haybale bangs. “Are you awake?” he whispers. After a moment, England sighs and mutters something unintelligible, his words muffled by cotton. “Would you mind doing me a small favour?”
England cracks open a drowsy eye. “…You want me to attend to your adoring public?”
“Mm-hm.” France curls an arm around his bare waist, knuckles tracing circles along his spine, glancing over the odd scar or two. “It is important for me to get my beauty rest.”
“They’re your birds,” England murmurs.
“I can make it worth your while.”
Leaning in, France kisses his neck, and the alluring smell of sex swirls through the air. It would be very nice to stay like this for a long time, floating gracefully in oblivion, right on the shores of sleep and lust. His lids flutter shut, tasting the skin of England’s throat, but just as he is ready to forget the birds entirely, a thumb and forefinger find his nose and pinch it. France blinks.
“You’re daft,” England says with a smirk, “if you think that will work on me.”
So this is a double feature for Mirror, featuring Germany and Italy respectively. …Yes, I write Germany way too much. While the Italy one was intended to come first, it turned outmuch longer than intended, as is common for my fics. But I thought this prompt could be utilized pretty effectively for both of my versions of them. A bit ironic. While they don’t have the same relationship they do in canon in my universe, comparing and contrasting them can still be extremely interesting IMO. Though the Germany ones is… a bit underwhelming and it isn’t much of a contrast. But I want to get these done.
I’m just glad I’m really starting to become engaged with my version of Italy’s character though! At first I thought his incoherence would as a country would be an issue preventing that, but it actually potentially adds to his character a lot.
Oh yeah, this is a semi-AU. Characters are pretty different, and everyone treats it as a normal thing. Special OOC warning for Prussia.
Also, while a “Veneziano” and “Romano” are mentioned, they are not North and South Italy. Yes, despite not being in the fandom for too long, I think, it does still look a bit weird to me, but they are completely different characters with different appearances. The “Italy” who is the main character here is simply Italy. Not North Italy, not Italy Veneziano, just Italy. This is extremely important. Also, for those who have read “Italy’s First Christmas”, I just want to say here that his relationship with South Italy (or Mezzogiorno) isn’t set in stone, so “Italy’s First Christmas” isn’t an accurate representation as of yet. Also, Italy has a sliiiightly different appearance. Mainly, his skin is more a tan, if not too dark, olive tone than super white, and he has somewhat more muscle definition; basically he resembles the Italian stereotype a bit more, but not too mannish either, probably. This is very relevant too.
I have debated using Italy’s human name, but yeah… this probably fits for now.
Also, Italy’s fic may have themes that aren’t suitable for all readers. While I do want to say what, I feel it might ruin the fic a bit, so I’ll just say discretion is advised.
America has to get a little creative when running away from his Civil War related problems. Fortunately, Canada is there to aide and abet in his escape Westward. A Historical Hetalia fic written for the 2022 @HistoricalHetaliaWeek.
