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Playing babysitter with the children of their bosses is kind of a second job for a nation, a more pleasurable one compared what is their usual work but still a job.
Some are better than others. Veneziano and Romano, for example, are natural with children: they love to play with them, walk with them in the park, participate in their schemes, tell them stories and fables.
Germany is... Doing his best. Children tend to be scared of him actually, his perpetually stern expression does not make him appear very friendly. He still remembers when the youngest daughter of one of his old bosses would always hide behind her parents when he was in the room, looking at him with big blurry eyes and crying her small lungs out when he attempted to smile in her direction. It'd be an exaggeration to say that that experience scarred him but... Well, yeah.
So when their bosses told them to bring their little angels at the zoo to pass the time, he had been tempted to refuse. He has work to do after all, and there are better ways to spend his time. But Veneziano had been so enthusiastic at the idea, jumping around along with the children and blathering about all the: "Pretty animals, ve!" and then looking at him with shiny eyes and a hopeful smile. He had no chance to resist, really.
So here he is, at the zoo, with Veneziano, Romano, Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg, France, and an army of little pests that in the span of half an hour since their arrival have attempted to jump into the lion pit, talk bird to birds, dance for the reptiles, attempted to eat Netherlands' 'special herbs' after stealing some from his pocket - somehow - scream at every animal they saw including pigeons, eat gargantuan amounts of food that should have been to much for their small bodies, and attempt to outrun the seven nations with their small but fast little legs.
Oh, there's also a few jumpscares cause by Germany daring to look at the children's direction and telling them to not run around.
As he said, he's not good with children.
Exhausted and exasperated, he leans against the barrier of the enclosure of the penguins while the children eat some overpriced ice-cream at a nearby shop, looking at the way Veneziano interacts with them like it's the most natural thing in the world, and he doesn't know what he feels. He's a bit envious of the way he makes it easy to interact with them, he's not going to lie to himself, but there's more to that. There's... Longing in him, the feeling of knowing that he's looking at something that he's never going to obtain for himself, the feeling he sometimes gets when he looks at the families around them, at couples raising their children. Something he and Veneziano are never going to experience, no matter how their relationship evolves.
"Monsieur Allemagne?"
He looks down, meeting the big green eyes of the France's boss' daughter.
"Can I help you?" he asks, bending his knees and lowering at her level.
"I want to see the penguins," she says, pointing at the enclosure. The barrier it's too tall for her.
He grabs her by under the armpits and raises her above, allowing to see the penguins waddling around. Her eyes immediately shine with wonder.
"They are so funny-looking," she says, laughing at the sight of a young penguin following their parents around, "Can they fly?"
"Nein, they swim."
"They swim?" she turns towards him, curious.
"Their wings have evolved to allow them to swim."
"Can they breath underwater?"
"Nein, they don't. They hold their breath like us."
"Oooooh," she looks back at the penguin, swinging her little legs and accidentally hitting Germany's thighs in the process, "The babies are so funny-looking."
To her most things must look 'funny-looking'.
"Penguins live in the Southern pole, don't they?" a little boy that is the son of a Italian diplomat, has approach them without Germany noticing it, along with a small group of the children.
"Oh, j-ja."
"Aren't they cold?" the daughter of Netherlands' boss asks
"Nein, they have a very thick layers of feathers that keeps them warm in and outside of water."
A chorus of "Ooooooh," follows.
"They seem to get very along," says the son of Belgium's boss.
"They are very social animals."
"Herr Deutchland, Herr Deutchland," his boss' daughter tugs his shirt to get his attention, "Can you raise me up too? I want to see the penguins!"
The girl in his arms doesn't protest when he puts her down, fortunately; he then does as requested, smiling a little at the expression of pure wonder on her face.
"I heard penguins get married!" Luxembourg's boss' son says, jumping around Germany, "Like my dads!"
"Animal don't get married, but some of them are monogamous."
"What does 'monogamous' mean?"
"That they stay together forever. Penguins stay together for life."
"Like my dads?"
"Like your dads."
The little boy look satisfied by the answers to that tornado of questions, and goes to look back at the animals.
"Signor Germania do penguins like candies? I like candies a lot!" the daughter of the Italian diplomat says with enthusiasm.
"Um, n-nein, they eat fish mostly."
"I like fish," she says, showing a smile that misses her front teeth, "Does that make like a penguin?"
"Well... Y-You have something in common surely."
She beams at that.
"Mr Germany, you know a lot about penguins, why?" another child asks.
"Well, t-they are very cute so I read a lot about them."
"Mr Germany, do penguins like us?"
"They are very friendly."
"So they like us?"
"J-Ja?"
"Yay!"
While Germany is getting swarmed by the children, the other six nations enjoy the show from a nearby bench, eating some ice-cream.
"Allemagne that is not making children ran away in fear, that's new," France says, intrigued and amused.
"It's the penguins, right?" Belgium asks, laughing.
"It's always them," Veneziano replies, completely enamored by his boyfriend.