Chapter Text
“I know we'll meet again, I just know we will!”
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Italy stood on a red carpet, wearing his best outfit. A white dress shirt with a simple blue bowtie, along with a blue blazer. The design was simple, but sleek. He didn't really care about first impressions- although his boss did. He had instructed him to meet with Germany, determined to have them become “close friends”. Italy smacked his lips, his gaze shifting to the crowd.
Music flowed throughout the room. A song by Vera Lynn that Italy couldn't quite remember the name of played ever so softly over voices. People danced and swayed and talked over the music, just enough to drown it out.
…
A man could only stand still for so long before getting bored. Italy's eyes sifted through the crowd, searching. He saw a group of nice looking ladies… no sign of a German, though.
One of the young women made her way towards the charming Italian.
What he was just thinking about? He had no clue anymore.
The next time he looked at his watch, it had hit 6:30.
“And then, I told her-”
Italy stopped and looked over his shoulder. He had heard the entrance shut quietly. His eyes landed on the man he was supposed to meet up with.
That had to be Germany. The blond, slicked back hair, the piercing blue eyes - he even stood how he expected. After hearing the description of the other male from his boss, he expected nothing less than the boring black tuxedo he was wearing.
Italy stretched his arm all the way out and gave a big friendly wave and a huge smile. Italy stuck out like a sore thumb- how could Germany miss him at this point?
Germany stopped scanning the crowd as soon as he took notice of Italy.
His stride was unbroken by the mob of people, taking long, confident steps.
"You must be Germany, sí?"
Germany politely nodded.
“I am, and you are Italy? Nice to meet you.”
Italy could feel Germany's eyes practically prodding his soul. It terrified him, it made him feel like weeping.
Germany’s face scrunched. His eyes returned to darting around the surrounding area, his face finally relaxing. He certainly took notice of the lady wrapped around Italy's figure.
Italy was about to respond, before he felt something deep inside him flicker. Like someone had attempted to jumpstart his mind. Germany's face reminded him of someone else. But before he could finish his thought, Germany interrupted him.
"With all due respect sir, isn't it… unprofessional to have approached a woman before meeting a partner?"
"She just came up to me, ladies love me! I could give you a few tips, you look like you could use them!”
Germany shot Italy a perplexed expression, maybe a bit offended. Italy immediately began to stammer and flounder.
“I meant that as in- because you aren't talking to any of the ladies, you know? There are plenty around-”
His hands fumbled uselessly, motioning around them. Germany put his arm out, stopping Italy from digging himself into a deeper hole.
“I don't need any of your tips, thank you. Why don't we sit at the bar instead?”
Italy's mouth finally stopped moving, quickly bouncing back to his usual excited demeanor. The lady to his right giggled at Italy's silly reactions, and the Italian suddenly perked up, having completely forgotten she was there under the Germans intense presence.
"Sorry honey, but I've gotta talk business... Feel free to call me if you ever feel lonely, though!"
With that, Italy slipped his arm off of the woman’s waist with a wink. The German and him sauntered over to the bar, relief flooding his body as he took a seat. Germany cleared his throat after a brief moment of silence.
"We are to get acquainted."
He stated, not in the slightest a friendly way. Like he was just stating a fact. The bartender came around, and stopped at the two men.
Germany's eyes lingered on Italy's face, even as he turned away. After an awkward second of the bartender waiting for Germany to say what he wanted, he suddenly sat up straight and ripped his eyes off of Italy.
"Oh, yes, excuse me ma’am. I suppose I'll have to go with a beer."
Italy turned his attention to her as well.
"I'll have a Limoncello cocktail, thank you.”
The bartender nodded, and disappeared. Something about Germany was ringing a bell, but Italy had no clue as to what it could be. Oh well, if he couldn't remember, it clearly wasn't very important.
When the drinks came back, Italy began to slowly sip his.
“This reminds me of the time, when I was a little kid, I was with my friend, right?”
“Mhm…”
“We were fighting over this stick, this particular stick because it was the best wizard staff. We were arguing, and when he finally had enough of it, he threw it at me! This big stick, about this long and this wide,”
Italy made dramatic gestures of him pulling at this imaginary stick and throwing it. Then, he stretched his arms all the way out, nearly toppling over as he did it.
It was absolutely ridiculous.
Germany stared, but didn't stop listening or cut him off. His facial expression mostly read as utterly bewildered.
“How could this possibly remind you of that story?”
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The atmosphere became lighter as Italy’s limbs began to feel a nice tingling sensation. The music died down, and the area began to feel empty as the night went on. The stench of alcohol began to fade, only lingering on the breaths of the last two men still present.
“Ready to close your tab?”
The bartender spoke up, hand in a cup with a cloth as she wiped it dry.
“Yes sir,” Germany reached in his back pocket. “I'll be paying for the both of us.”
Germany shot a sidelong glance at Italy. Italy could tell he was only paying for him because he wanted to give a good impression. But it didn't matter to him, because he didn't even bring his wallet. Either way, that just meant he'd have to figure out some way to thank Germany for letting him be a bum.
Italy's mind began to wonder as it fell into silence again. The workers began wiping down the counters, leaving them nice and glossy for the next time they opened… His mind went to Germany, who was making sure he didn't leave any wet spots from his cold beer. What was it that was bugging him so much? Gee, he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn't like him. All Italy knew that it was something about the latter's face. Something odd.
Something familiar.
"Have we met before?" Italy spoke up out of the blue, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
The Germans eyebrows knitted together, and his shoulders tensed.
"No, I do not believe we have.”
"Sorry, there's something wrong with your face that's bugging me.”