Confusion 4 - A GerIta Story

        I love dreaming of Doit-su, he is always nicer in my dreams. He eats my pasta and smiles more and helps me find really cute girls. Nothing like him when he wakes up though, he is all serious and "WAKE UP NOW ITALY". I don't understand why he has to always wake up so early, not everything needs to be done at eight in the morning. Plus, why does he have to wake me up? Why can't he do whatever by himself and not bother me? I would like him a lot more if he let me sleep once and a while. I love Germany but, not when he is being stupid.

"Go away," I mumbled, shoving my face deeper into the pillow I was squeezing, "I am tired."

"Stop being lazy and get out of my bed."

"But, I'm comfy," I whine, turning my head to Germany and pouting, "I don't want to move!"

"I do not care what you want," he rolled his eyes, pushing me with his foot off of the bed, "Get off my bed and get up."

"NO!" I yell, stubbornly gripping the head board as the rest of my body is shoved off.

I hear Germany grumble something in German as he walks to the other side of the bed behind me. I try to grip my hands harder as I feel his wrap around mine.

"Don't touch me stupid!" I yell once more, trying to squirm away.

"Your acting like your brother," Germany yelled back as he slowly pried each one of my fingers from the headrest.

"I am not!" I whine as Germany hoists me up and over his shoulder.

"We are just training, you have had weeks without it and trust me, you need it."

"No I don't, I am super tough!" I cried out, hesitantly slapping the top of his head, "I'm going to beat you up!"

I gasp as Germany quickly stops and places me back on the floor to face him, a glare spreading across his face.

"I have a very short temper after my last trip," he sternly told me, holding my gaze.

I try to stand defiantly for a minute but, then Germany started to look scarier. I quickly slither out of his grip, turn and start to run in the opposite direction, frantically crying out for Japan. I hear Germany as he chases after me, his heavy boots smacking the floor at a quicker pace then mine were. I push harder and sprint, the image of the German punishing me running through my mind. I don't want to die! I don't want to get hurt!

"I surrender!" I scream behind me as I keep running, "I give up, you win! Leave me alone!"

"Stop running then!" he called back.

"But you will hurt me!"

"No I won't,"

"Promise?"

I hear a very heavy sigh coming from behind me before I got an answer.

"Promise."

I started to slow down and eventually stop, Germany's pace matching mine. I turn around to Germany who had an expression I couldn't help but, laugh at on his face. I brought my hand to my mouth to stiffle the giggles. Germany had one eyebrow raised and was staring at me as if I was insane.

"I'm taking your tantrum is over then?"

"Can you carry me like you did before?" I ask, trying to jump over Germany's shoulder, "It was so fun! I felt like a potato!"

"What?!"

"Like a sack of potatoes!" I giggled giddily, "Carry me like a sack of potatoes!"

"Will you co-operate and train today?"

"Yeah, yeah. Now carry me!" I answer, completely ignoring his question.

"How can you change moods so fast..." I heard him mumble rhetorically before grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back up over his shoulder, "You better train hard..."

I let loose my fit of giggles as Germany carried me outside to Japan's front yard. It was fenced off with a thick black fence that streched at least a hundred feet from the front porch. It was practically bare, just a huge stretch of land in between his house and the road. Once Germany walked up to where Japan was stretching down to his toes, he carefully put me back down on the ground before nodding at him.

"Japan,"

I sat down and crossed my legs as I started to pull grass up from the lawn. Germany then walked over to the stretching Japan and joined him.

"Italy, you better stretch out as well, you are going to pull something," Germany called over to me, streching out his left leg.

"But, I don't want to train," I grumble as I slowly get up, making a show until I stood in front of Germany, "Why can't we just go eat?"

"Because we will get fat," Germany stated blankly, "Now stretch out."

I sigh over-dramatically before turning to stand beside Germany to do a handful of half-assed jumping jacks.

"Italy, train seriously, please. You promised me."

I groan as I straighten my arms and legs so the jumping jacks weren't useless.

"But, I don't want to!"

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't care,"

"But, you cared last night," I grumble under my breath.

I jump as I hear Japan yelp, falling to the ground. He had lost his balance while stretching his one leg upwards. His face was flushed a deep red.

"I-I, nevermind. Just train," Germany quickly murmured back.

I stopped the jumping jacks and did one push-up then rolled onto my back.

"How about I go make some healthy food for practise, okay?" I smile cheerily up at Germany, hoping he will let me go.

"How about you stop being lazy,"

"Okay, be right back!" I call as I jump up and bolt towards the house.

"Italy!" I hear Germany call out, his footsteps following me again.

I glance behind me quickly, Germany's face telling me he might break his promise about not punishing me. Japan just stood where he was previously training, looking like he wasn't sure what to do. I turn my head back around and quickly jump through the door and through the halls to the kitchen.

I pause as I get there and quickly shuffle through the cabinets to find something to help defend my self. I had a few seconds before Germany came in and right as he burst through the door I found the perfect weapon.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"I SURRENDER!" screamed Italy, waving a wooden spoon around in the air with a white dishcloth tied to it, "DON'T HURT ME!"

I pause, staring confused at the sight in front of me.

"Germany, don't hurt meeee~" he cried, falling to his knees, "I need food! You woke me up and I didn't have any breakfast!"

"Yes you did, you just went back to sleep once you were done. I had to wake you up again," I sighed, rubbing my temples in between my two fingers, "Can you just please go practise."

"Can I cook first?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not!" Italy whined, dropping his flag and grabbing onto my leg, "I just want to eat, I haven't had pasta since you got here! It's been too long!"

"I got here yesterday."

"EXACTLY!"

Italy strengthens his grip on my leg as he looks up at me looking down at him, a pout forming on his lips. I hate when he pouts, he knows he gets whatever he wants when he does.

"Fine," I sigh heavily, reaching down to untangle his fingers from my leg, "But, you have to do some form of training when you are done, understand?"

"Veeee~" cooed Italy, snuggling up to my leg, knocking my fingers away, "Thank you, Doit-suu!"

I start to shake my leg a bit, trying to loosen his grip. It didn't work so I tried walking. Italy's stomach dragged along the floor as I walked, his dazed, happy expression glued onto his face.

"Oh! Doit-su!" Italy gasped, snapping back to reality and clumsily standing up, "Wanna help me?"

"No."

Italy's smile was wiped completely off of his face; he was obviously expecting a different answer.

"B-but, I thought we could do it together and have fun like in those movies! They have food fights and stuff!" replied Italy, latching onto me again, "I wanted to have fun with Doit-su..."

"Y-you know that the only people in movies that cook together are teenage girls and couples, not two grown male countries," I stumble out, pushing Italy off of me gently.

"So?" Italy stated, confused as to what I meant, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"W-wel, I, uh. You see, uhm. Just that. Oh, just never mind! I'll cook with you," I stutter before sighing in defeat, placing my face in my palm. I clench my muscles, preparing for the inevitable attack of Italy.

"VEEEEE~" Italy screamed at the top of his lungs, gripping my middle section with a surprising strength.

I felt his face dig into my chest, his insanely loud "ve"-ing muffled slightly.
I try to push him off again but, as soon as his face came off my chest, I could hear how loud he was all over again. I quickly withdraw my hands knowing my ears couldn't take much more of that high pitch. I end up just standing there for a few minutes, waiting until Italy calmed down enough to say something other than "ve".

"What should we make?" Italy smiled before his expression changed to alert me he had an idea(which is never, ever, a good thing), "LET'S MAKE A CAKE!"

"How in God's name is a cake healthy!? I only agreed to this if you were making something that could help us train! I was expecting pasta!"

"All healthy things are gross, cake is yummy," he stated as if that solved everything before letting go of me and quickly searching through cupboards for ingredients, "One of my owners Mama's taught me a very, very good recipe for this triple chocolate cake. I miss my Mama. She always insisted I called her that. I cried when she passed away. I learnt how to cook from her. Did you ever have a Mama, Doit-su? I bet my Mama would have loved you. She loved men who could eat more than she could cook. Can you get the eggs, butter and milk from the fridge for me?"

I nod, acknowledging that I would not be able to change his mind, before moving to the fridge, surprised at how well stocked it was. I found a cartoon that looked like milk ( it had a cow on it), something that looked like a block of butter and a cartoon of what seemed to be eggs. I balanced them on both my arms before dropping them off to Italy who was currently pulling out a handful of aprons from one of the drawers.

"We don't want to get dirty do we~"

I groan, knowing that even if I did fight it at this point, I would somehow end up with an apron on. I just wanted all of us to train and I knew that if I didn't comply completely to Italy, that would never happen.

I grab one of the white ones and hastily tie it behind my back, Italy following suit.

"We have to wash our hands first," Italy laughed, almost skipping to the sink.

He turned on the tap and poured soap on both our hands before thoroughly rinsing his own. I simply did the same, drying my hands on my apron when I was finished.

"Now, we can start!" Italy smiled, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at the cluster of ingredients, "I always put the more liquid-y, gooey things in first. Can you put 1 1/3 cup of butter into the bowl? Then afterwards, add the milk. I'll do the eggs."

I watch as he flips the carton of eggs open and pulls out two, smashing each smoothly over the bowl with one hand. I grab one of the measuring cups and and knife, starting to put the butter in until it fit to 1 1/3 cups. I glance at Italy who had decided to pour the milk while I worked.

"Why aren't you using a measuring cup?" I ask, surprised as the Italian simply poured the milk into the bowl.

"Don't need one," he smiled at me over his shoulder, making me almost drop the knife in my hand.

I turn back to the butter, my face flushing at the sight of him. I mentally slapped myself for keeping the image of him in an apron, cooking with a slight smile touching his lips stored in my already scheming, perverted mind.

I finish with the butter and calm down. I hand it over to Italy, having to turn away again as he starts beaming at me, going on about his Mama and how happy he is to be cooking with me.

"I'll do flour and brown sugar if you do the oils?" Italy smiled, already pulling up his sleeves.

"Sure," I nod curtly, turning to the large volume of different smelling and different coloured oils he had pulled out, "Which oils do you want?"

"All of them,"

"O-okay," I reply skeptically, doubting how great this cake would taste.
Italy just smiled larger as he told me the measurements for the oils. I couldn't help but, smile back at him, handfuls of flour coming out of the bag and into the bowl. With every handful, flour sprinkled all over him; from his hair to his chin to his apron. I did have to admit I was having at least a little bit of fun.

After all the ingredients had successfully made it into the large bowl on the counter, Italy handed me a large wooden spoon.

"Wanna stir it?"

"Sure,"

I gently grabbed the spoon from his hands before using it to mix all the ingredients together.

"I'm going to go preheat the oven," I heard him giggle.

I kept stirring, the mixture turning brown and lumpy. I guess this could count as training, I absently thought, stirring the mix faster. I think twice about sticking my finger in the batter to see if my assumption of the oils ruining it's taste would be correct or not. I thought eating it raw might tas-

WHOOSH.

I blink a couple of times, taking in what just happened. Flour suddenly covering my face, torso, back and head. I turn around to the Italian laughing so hard, his face was turning red and tears were poking out of his eyes. I reach behind me and grab whatever was nearest, smearing the block of butter all over his laughing face.

I let myself crack a smile as Italy's laughing spree came louder. He quickly turned around me before grabbing the carton of eggs and an armful of different oils. I jokingly curse under my breath for letting him get the good materials. I turn around and grab the carton of milk, my trusty butter bar, some oils and the brown sugar. I shove the bottles of oil into my pockets, holding a handful of brown sugar in one hand and the butter bar and milk carton in the other.

I couldn't spot Italy so, I tried to stealthily creep around the counter. I notice a brown curl sticking out on the other side of the island. I open the carton of milk quietly before sneaking up behind the crouched Italian. He was looking around the other corner, trying to guess where I went.

"Italy," I laugh.

He turned around quickly, squeaking before I dumped the whole contents of the milk carton on top of him. He shrieked, hands flailing before standing up and trowing an egg straight in my face. I stumble backwards as he ducked around me, grabbing a pan we set out for baking as a shield.

I hear him giggle as I squirt one of my oils at him which he deflected with his make-do shield.

"I think you aren't nearly covered enough," Italy giggled, throwing another egg in my direction. I dodge and take my chance. I bolt at him, pushing his shield down slightly with my forearm as I smush the brown sugar on his face, letting it trail down his apron and stick to his hair. Before I retreated though, I managed to steal three eggs.

"No fair!"

"All is fair in war," I smirked back, wiggling my eyebrows as I held up the three stolen eggs.

"I'll just get them back then!" Italy stuck his tongue out, lowering his shield a bit.

I threw an egg but, Italy seemed to sense it and brought his shield back up with a yelp.

"Okay, now it is on!" he called back, trying to put on a tough face. I laughed harder as I squirted some more oil in his direction.

"Stop it!" he called back, blocking the squirt again with his shield, "Your going to hit me!"

"That's what I am aiming for,"

Italy's face cracked and he started to giggle again.

I fake a move to the right, causing Italy to panic and throw an egg in that direction.

"Your wasting your ammo!" I smirk, dodging to the left and stabbing him with the  butter bar in the side.

Italy jumped, squeak-laughing as I dragged the butter bar up his side to his neck, coating it before he mushed an egg on my head. I tried to reach out and grab him but, I had to quickly shut my eyes, the two eggs on my face starting to sting. I hastily wipe my face with the back of my hand before opening them once more. I glanced around quickly, at first afraid I had lost him again but, then I saw the open refrigerator.

I silently walk towards the door, tossing one of my eggs over the door. I let out a loud laugh of victory at the cracking sound from the egg and the gasp of surprise coming shortly after.

Suddenly, an orange blurb comes hurling over the door. I back-up quickly, barely missing it. I look down at the carrot on the floor, dumbfounded before starting to laugh louder.

"You threw a carrot at me!"

I had to place my arms on the counter to try to help me stand up. The laughter racked my whole body, sending tremors up and down my spine, causing my legs to weaken slightly. I hadn't laughed like this in a while, practically never. The feeling of letting loose, forgetting training, worrying, the allied forces for a few minutes with Italy had been bliss.

"It was the first thing I could grab!" he whined loudly.

I hear the refrigerator door close slightly, a frustrated Italy looking at me. His expression made me laugh impossibly louder, causing me to almost slip on the food covered floor.

Italy started to giggle, his expression going to his usual light-hearted one.

He tried to come over to me but, he slid a bit, almost losing his balance completely. He froze, looking up at me shocked before a smile erupted on his face. He reached his finger out and slightly poked me in the chest. I wobbled a bit, my boots not gripping the oils slicked on the floor.

"Don't you dare..." I tried to warn him, already knowing exactly what was racing through Italy's mind.

I watched him as he slightly leaned backward, gaining momentum. His chest inhaled deeply and next thing I know, he charged at me, knocking into me.

"VEEEEE~"

I slipped, his weight coming at me enough to cause me to lose my balance. I fell backwards onto my back. The wind was knocked out of me as I lay on the floor, head fuzzy. I felt my leg hit the counter on my way down and then, the bowl of mix slowly fell off and onto Italy's head.

I groaned as the chocolate mix started to drip onto me.

"There goes our work," I say, letting out a light chuckle.

"It tastes good though, right?" Italy asked, stroking his finger along the goo on his face and plopping it in his mouth, "Wanna try some?"

He swiped another scoop of the batter and wiggled it in front of my face.

"No I-"I try saying before Italy shoved his batter smeared finger into my mouth.

I glare at him, only causing him to giggle insanely. I did have to admit it was really good, the perfect amount of richness in the cake with the oils subduing it enough to not be too much. I close my mouth over his finger as he slowly pulled it out, making sure it all came off in my mouth.

I swallow, not letting go of my glare. Italy stared excitedly at me for the verdic of the uncooked cake.

"'It's good," I mumbled, blushing like a women as Italy squealed in delight, hugging me and pressing his cheek against mine.

"Since this one is all over me, can we make more tomorrow!? Can we bake cakes everyday? Oh, I know alot more recipes from my Mama that we could make. She used to have a huge cookbook, she said she would give it to me when she passed but, as soon as she did, I never got it. I did memorize a whole bunch of the recipes though, lots and lots. Mostly pastries though, I seemed to forget all the main courses and appetizers and stuff. It was so big, bigger than your head and it h-" Italy started to ramble straddling my waist before noticing the feverishly red tone of my skin, "You okay, Doit-su?"

"I'm going to go have a shower and get this off of me," I stumble out, grabbing Italy's waist and pushing him up as I started to stand.

"Oh, that's a good idea. I wanna a bath. Wanna have a bath with me, Doi-"

"NO. We are not going to do that."

"B-"

"No."

Italy pouted and I decided that was when I should take my leave before I give in and, oh God I am just not thinking about that.

"I'll go first because you will waste the hot water. Clean-up the mess while I am in. You can consider it your training for the day."