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Two in One

Chapter Text

"He he he he"

The same old laughter floods the mind of the brunette. Lasting no longer than mere seconds, but the notes from that silky voice always seem to be able to effortlessly fill those four simple syllables, with, an everlasting amount of malice. Mocking him to the depths of his soul.




Inside the dark bedroom, hisses and groans can be heard. The curtains were drawn tight, not letting even a silver of light into the pitch black room. On the bed, a writhing figure an be seen. Gasping, panting, begging - fighting. The italian's eyes screwed tightly together as his body twisted and turned in the bed.

Standing guard outside the room, the brother could only watch as he prayed for the chestnut haired brother's victory over his 2p.

Romano hated the fact that he could do nothing, nothing at all to help with his younger brother's misery. In fact, it was actually too dangerous for him to take any action. All the more he has to refrain himself after being given numerous warning from the brother himself, especially after finding out that the older italian had received many bruises doing so.

As he heard the loud moans die down to just soft breathing, Romano breathed a sigh of relief letting out all the tension and anxiety he held throughout the 'attack' as they called it. Italy had won, and that was all he needed to know for now.

Picking up the basin of water and wash cloths he had prepared earlier, he crept into the room, keeping as silent as possible, so as to not disturb his little brother's hard earned rest.

As always, it was a terrible sight. Scarlet scratch marks littered all over the poor country's body, some deep enough to draw blood, staining the pale skin crimson. Romano winced at the awful state of his sibling, not even beginning to imagine how painful it must be for the younger nation. Lightly dabbing the wash cloth that he soaked in the warm water onto the open wounds, he sweared silently in italian, grimacing at his own inability.

He knew that the wounds on North's body would have healed by dawn, but he didn't want any scars to be left behind on the perfect skin of his little brother.




By the time he finished, the wash cloths were stained red and the water swirled a murky reddish-brown. Draping the sheets over the sleeping country, the older of the two took one last pained look before closing the door behind him.

He headed immediately towards the kitchen sink and dumped away all the blood saturated water and watched as it flushed down the drain. As he filled a plastic bag with the bloody cloths, he left the cleanest one and started scrubbing the plastic basin with soap to get rid of the metallic smell that was left in it.

As he did, the hazel haired country remembered the time he found out about Italy's problem. It was one night a few decades back and since then he vowed to himself.

'I will do anything, as long as it keeps my fratello from anymore unnecessary pressure.'

Chuckling lightly at this little statement, he thought that this may be why he grew to be an overprotective brother. For some incomprehensible reason, the image of Spain also popped up in his train of thoughts. This made him quite agitated and brushed them all away in long string of curses.

But soon his mind wandered back into the attacks and he retrieves the memory of Italy's description of the attacker.

His brother wasn't the most specific person he knew, in fact he was the opposite. But in this, he was oddly descriptive about Luciano, as the personality claims himself to be. It was as if they were always meeting face to face.

The only clue to what he was were the only words he ever said.

"I am your 2p, your counterpart and this body will become mine one day."

Since he has been seeing the image of Luciano for a much longer time before Romano found out, he was able to depict his 2p ' appearance - whatever 2p means, into a drawing. Romano was skeptical at first, since Italy was basically drawing his own face, but as details were being added in, he began to realise it was no joke.

The image showed the counterpart dressed in their WW2 Italian Brigate Uniform, an attire neither of them wore even on formal occasions due to it being too impractical - with the hat that kept sliding off and the tassels in the way, it made doing anything very difficult.

But he also noticed how Luciano was wearing lace less boots and shook his head thinking that the 2p was smart enough to wear lace less shoes since he probably couldn't tie shoelaces either.

The only difference between the two of them, as noted by Italy was that the counterpart had darker skin and his eyes glow a mixture of purple and magenta.




While pondering over those memories, Romano made quick work of the basin and was already outside disposing of the bag of cloth.

He retired to his own room and slumped into a deep sleep at the moment his head hit the pillow. It was not long afterwards that the sun began to rise. But luckily for the older nation, he did not need to rise early the next day. Especially since he was no longer under the rule of Spain, he could sleep in as much as he wanted.

Thank goodness this was generally only a monthly affair, and not daily, or he wouldn't know how he, not to mention Italy, would be able to keep up with their everyday life.

Chapter Text

It has been hours since 7 in morning and a certain Italian soldier still had not shown up for their training. Germany sighed in frustration and threw on his jacket, making his way to his ally's house.

"Italy!"

The deep voice bellowed from the hallway, just right before the door burst open, bringing in an irritated German along with its action. However the only thing that could be seen of the above mentioned was that small chestnut curl of his hair, sticking out in between the thick blanket and pillow.

As Romano expected, the brunette's wounds had indeed healed completely, leaving behind not a mark on the soft pale skin. And luckily it did. As Germany pulled of some of the sheets, it revealed nothing but his bare little ally, curled up awkwardly in the far end of the bed.

The image was adorable and the blond was so tempted to just leave him be. But a bigger part of his mind firmly believed that their training was necessary and they should not waste the remaining time of the day that they had left. So, after resolving himself, he decided to wake the little country up.

Putting his knee across the bed to get closer to Italy, Germany towered over the smaller country. Taking the brunette's shoulder, he shook him a little and called him once more.

"Italy, wake up."

As if by magic, the long lashes parted as his eyelids cracked open, despite the fact that he did not even flinch at the much louder sound of the door slamming open. The hazy Italian blinked a few times before realizing the German above him. When he did, his eyes closed back and a sleepy smile grew on his face.

"Ah, Germany!"

The little nation exclaimed happily. His arms reached out, wrapping around the larger country's neck and using it to pull himself up to cuddle with his favourite nation.

"Good morning~"

He added as he pulled back, though his arms were still clinging onto the blond.

"Right...good morning Italy..."

Germany greeted back in return, but wasn't quite finished.

"...now will you get up and get dressed?"

"Veee~ I don't wanna~"

The brunette whined as he retreated from the larger nation and reached for the blankets. Although wide awake, Italy was still reluctant to leave his warm nest of blankets.

But before he knew it, he was scooped up by the blond nation's strong arms and carried off the bed. Trapped as he was between the arms of the German, he was also feeling quite blissful about being carried bridal style. The brunette appreciated the affections he is receiving from the other country - though probably unintentional. The grin on his face grew wider as he thought more and more about how much he loves Germany. But that will be kept secret for sure.




After Italy got dressed with the help of Germany, he was sat back atop his bed for the larger country to tie his shoelaces. As he had his left leg reached out, the German took the laces and pulled them nice and tight, looping them to form a bow knot. Italy's eyes spilled forth the colour of liquid amber as he kept his eyes wide open to take in the sight of his crush fussing over his laces, a blush creeping onto his face and his curl crinkled into a heart.

He was suddenly reminded about the 'problem', which, although over with, will still relapse if he lets his guard down. Italy promised himself there and then that the would show no gap for Luciano, at least in front of Germany. He did not want to trouble the one he loves with unnecessary problems.

The nation in question, however, did not notice the inner turmoil of the brunette and instead, focused his sky blue eyes on tying the laces on the right boot.

Just as Germany finished and he looked up, Italy pushed himself forwards and onto him, giving him a great big hug, effectively straddling the nation as well.

The brunette took in a deep breath and enjoyed sweet scent that was, for some reason lingering on the nation. Calming down, he recognised the smell and commented.

"Germany smells nice~ just like flowers~"

Stroking the soft chestnut locks of hair, Germany gives Italy a kiss on both his cheeks.

"Can we go train now?"

"Okay fine..."

And so they headed out.

Chapter Text

As his grip loosened, he was again dragged away from the figure by the same unseen force. The figure, slightly glowing, was what he assumed to be Feliciano's consciousness.

Luciano gazed at the red prints on the pale neck. They marked where his fingers were before, where they were squeezing tightly.

As the body went out of view and he was back before his static screen, he raised his hands scrutinized each and every one of his gloved digits. Doing so helped to reorganize his thoughts and he sighed deeply.

"Another FAILURE." He mumbled, growling slightly.

With that, Luciano thought back to the day he found himself in this mess. That day he woke up with a start and was already suspending in this dark void. Last thing he remembers is deciding to go to Oliver's for some fresh 'ingredients' - the englishman always had a lot in stock, for reasons he'd rather not find out about. He remembers only up till the point of just having left his house. The darker italian was determined to find the bastard that did this to him and pay him back in 10 times the interest - a slow painful death simply doesn't seem to cut it at the moment.

For now, what Luciano needed to do was to get his questions answered and the only person who could do that was Oliver's counterpart... Arthur was it?...

He had encountered the englishman countless times before - the world meetings the 1ps called it. To be honest, Luciano wasn't sure if he was all that competent at his socery or what not, seeing as how he kept hexing himself instead of his target... but Arthur was his only hope to ever go back. Damn...he really is becoming desperate huh.

His reflection time was cut short when the screen before him flickered back on. He brought his eyes to the view the image but was immediately blinded by the light that shone directly on feli's eyes.

A soothing voice then filled his ears with his name.

"Italia."




It was Germany.

Well Ludwig to be exact. The blond country spoke with a gentle but firm tone, one the sloppy Lutz clearly doesn't care enough to have. It caught his attention how his own heart seemed to flutter a little and dissed himself for being weak.

This Germany cared deeply for the wellbeing of his ally and it made him slightly envious. Ludwig would search far and wide through the seven seas if Feliciano were to have disappeared - even if he only left the room for a moment, Lutz wouldn't even have noticed. Heck, he was sure that that lazy german wasn't even aware that he was gone, and for centuries at that.

Bitterness filled him immediately at that thought when he realised no noticeable help efforts were made, no efforts to communicate, nothing.

Cleching his eyes shut and hugging himself tightly, he screamed and berated himself for being so foolish as to think that any of the 2ps would even offer to help. They had probably celebrated the fact that the hated leader of the axis powers was gone... even his own allies would be celebrating. Surely it was because he had spent to much time in Feliciano that he was starting to get affected...




He refocused back onto the screen, surprisingly, his outburst hasn't actually lasted as long as he thought. The image showed him that feli was staring at Germany 's eyes, thinking about how much he loved the man who was currently tying his laces. Not much of a suprise there, noting that his dim counterpart finally realised his feelings for the blond nation.

He would tune whatever they are doing out but their time-wasting little nothings always helped to calm and distract him. As he watched, the fatigue of trying to take over finally came onto him and his eyelids felt heavy. His eyes fluttered shut and fell into a comatose-like sleep almost immediately, but not before realising the sensation of a single tear welling out of his eyes and rolling down his now still features

Damn it.




Watching the unfolding scene though the glass, a certain pastel-clad individual sat eager, illuminated by the green glow that came from the crystal orb. Baby blue eyes shone with great interest as his gaze stayed fixed on the glowing ball. Picking up the cupcake set beside him, he licked the frosting off the pink confection and hummed in delight at his delectable creation.

The freckled face twisted into a smirk as he watched with sick fascination at the single visible tear flowing out of the magenta eyes that were fluttering shut.

"You haven't gotten soft now have you?..."

Pursing his lips together he snarled his last word, coating it heavily with scorn.

"pOpPeT."

Chapter Text

The light of sunset casted a rather tall shadow scaling the small hill. The height of the shadow would have been weird if not for the owners it belonged to - a well built blond fashioning a military physical training attire and a relatively smaller framed, wimpier-looking brunette in full uniform.

Italy swayed happily to each step Germany took and his leather-bound legs hugged snug against the blond's firm chest - even though he sat securely on the strong arms of his favourite nation.

Right there, atop the hill, the large tree by Germany's house came into view.

When they reached the tree, which was also where they usually trained, the blond settled the brunette down. Looking back to the last bits of the setting sun, Germany concluded

"It seems that training is cancelled... Again."

He sighed, the skin between his brows creasing.

"Vee~"

Then as if an idea had clicked in the absent-minded italian, he chimed.

"Germany~ cheer up, I'll cook pasta for you!"

The troubled German looked up and sighed lightly amused.

"-and you can cook your delicious sausages."

The little Italian rambled on.

"Sure."

And the headed down the hill, continuing their chatter about dinner.




"Hey Germany,"

"Yes?"

"Can I stay over?"

"Of course."

Chapter Text

Since it had merely been a day after the "attack", Italy, aided by a strange sense of assurance, was completely sure that he wouldn't be bothered by that rather troublesome problem of his. Even though the intervals between each attempt wasn't at all clear, something from within told him that he would be fine. So, when the opportunity came, he bubbly asked his favourite nation if he could stay over at his house with no hesitation at all. He was actually more surprised that Germany allowed him to do so that easily.




After their scrumptious dinner of promised pasta coupled with wrust, the two countries huddled together on the large sofa in the living room to watch a movie. The brunette happily munched on popcorn they made together and simply enjoyed the tranquility of being by the one he loved albeit secretly.

He'll probably never confess though — or at the very least not any time soon. He simply wasn't ready. For the backlash that may result from his words. And especially not about Luciano. If doing anything would shatter this peace (bliss), then he would rather not do nothing at all.




The veil of lashes fluttered open. Glowing magenta peeked though behind half-lidded eyes, the remnants of fatigue fogs his vision.

Luciano untangled both his arms from the awkward position he somehow ended up in, in favour of a good stretch. His beret was uncovered from beneath the folded limbs. 'Must've taken it off by habit...' he guessed. Glancing blankly at the beret he reached and sunk his fingers into the fluffy ends of the ornament for, just a moment, before plopping it back onto the side of his head. However, the beret decided to go out of its way today to let's say latch onto a certain bit of hair.

After a, let's say, painful (pleasurable) amount of time, the hazel brunette finally unhooked the offending head piece from his curl. It took quite a while after that for him to regain his calm, but when he did, he immediately focused on the events unfolding on screen — only to find himself watching his love-struck counterpart and hearing the boy's insecure thoughts.

(ノಠДಠ)ノ彡 ┻━┻

Chapter Text

"I love Germany... but I won't tell him... yet."

Those words boomed around the darker Italian. Holding his lower lip lightly, he braced the sound waves, body hunched over just barely. But even long after the amplified thoughts passed, he did not break position—seemingly having curled up more than before. Biting down harder and harder, to the point where breaking skin would be inevitable, he gripped his arms in hopes of ebbing the tremble that kept growing stronger.

But he couldn't.

No matter how hard he tried, how hard he dug his fingers—nails into his arms, he couldn't calm himself down. The more he tried, the harder he started shaking. Clenching down even harder on his already bruising lips, he fought furiously the immense desire to cry. He screamed derogatory after derogatory, cussing and berating himself for being the weak bastard that he was for allowing his emotions to seep through as his tears welled up.His face gained heat and a red tint formed over his cheeks. His nails dug deeper.

But all his efforts in holding out was for naught when a single drop of warmth spilled forth.

Luciano stopped trying.

..."He he ha ha ha." Why he even tried he would never know...

He stopped caring about his appearance, dropped the facade of a cold demeanour, and threw away his dignity.

He cried. He wailed. Tears flowed freely streaking his features. He let his voice out and howled painful nothings until his throat gave out. His screams rang loud, perhaps even louder than his counterpart's enamored thoughts. But not even when the cries whittled down into soundless whispers, did he cease his hollering.

He didn't care, not anymore.

No more.




As Italy kept his attention on the horror movie they were watching, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation scratching at the back of his mind. He tried ignoring the discomforting feeling but the sensation just grew stronger. Italy's irritation was worsening by the second when suddenly...

Right then, the movie threw out a jumpscare. He flinched, turning away quickly to ball his hands into the larger blond's shirt. Amber eyes wide, staring stonily into nothing. No, it was not the cheap scare, it was not the sudden boom of music, nor was it the shrill scream.

It was him. There was no mistake. That chuckle. It could only be him.

Why was he here?

Chapter Text

A million thoughts flew through Italy's mind in that instant as he froze in place.

'Why was he here?'

'No no no no nO NO! It shouldn't have been. It's too soon!'

'It has only been a day!'

'What do I do?!, Germany's here and...'

"...ey ...hey... Italia! Are you alright?"

Having lost track of how long he had kept a hold on his worried-sounding friend, he shook his head quickly.

"Ah no... It was nothing Germany. I was just really scared... Ehehe."

Seeing the brunette chuckle, he frowned just the slightest before sighing, features softening in relief.

Italy clambered onto Germany, giving the large nation hug as he fit perfectly in the blond's wide chest.

"I'm fine now."

He whispered to his ear before pulling back just enough to settle down nicely in the German's lap.




That night, despite how sleep deprived he was, he just couldn't get a wink of sleep. He was simply unable to stop mulling over the evening's event.

'What is going on?...
This has never happened before...
He sounded like he was... Crying?...
No... That can't be... How could it?...
That me had always harboured nothing but ill will...
Unless...
Maybe...
Just maybe...
He wasn't as evil as I thought he was?...'

And his frustration kept him going for the majority of hours before dawn. It wasn't until he hit a brick wall of confusion, that the adrenaline that he had been running on the whole time finally subsided, leaving him to nod off to sleep almost instantaneously. But just a couple of hours later, in his semi-conscious state, Italy felt a dip in the bed— a telltale sign that Germany was starting to wake up.

A part of him wanted wake up and greet his favourite nation but the much much larger and lethargic part of him voted for sleeping, which, he gladly abided. He knew that his blond ally(friend) would definitely let him sleep in for the day, given they turned in later than expected watching the movie.




A long sigh resonated in the endless void. Luciano laid backwards, flexing and stretching himself into an arch — an action which, he now realises, is seemingly becoming quite a bad habit to have acquired. It really makes him wonder how he would fare after leaving this rather convenient space. Well, if he gets to leave, that is. He keeps his eyes shut. They were swollen from his recent affair. The 2p Italian began to reflect on the entire time he had spent on wasting his bodily fluids by responding to his hormonal swings.

For some reason, after that semi-dramatic session(it's not an outburst, he'll never admit it's an outburst), he was left feeling extremely drained of energy. With the level of exhaustion that seemed to have hit him, Luciano was soon fast asleep, for a second time that day no less.

Chapter Text

It wasn't long before his eyes flashed open from his dreamless sleep. Judging by how the screen was still in its state of statis, he likely was not out for long. The creak in his joints told him everything. But he couldn't be sure, sometimes the void acts out and time flows differently. He could only hope it didn't this time.

He continued to lean back into the empty, lidded eyes gazing at the static.

"Italia..."

There it was. Again. That stupidly deep, soothing voice. It calls his name but never, not once— calls for him.

It hurt.

He doesn't know why, but it does. He's heard it so many times for decades but just hurts more everytime. He bit down once again on his still-raw lips, wincing fractionally and tasting iron. He watches as the screen regains motion, his counterpart never failing to respond to Ludwig's calls.

The static clears and he is all but immersed in those sky blue orbs, made more arresting by the dark lashes that framed it just so. Golden hair sleeked back precisely in place only left more room for want. Luciano licked his lips. He realizes that the screen hangs in place as the 1p stares just as he did before. His counterpart greets the blond country as usual and he finds himself tracking the movements of those gloved hands. How titillating it might be if he ran his tongue along the leather-bound digits. How arousing it might be to slowly drag off the damned thing between his teeth.

Just imagining the possibilities made him groan out in frustration as his pants tightened around him. There had to be a limit to being trapped alone in a stimulation-lacking void— a breaking point. Apparently, this was it.

One century.

A little more than a hundred years was enough to completely change him.

He thought as his breaths started to uneven. Oh, any idiot would know that he too...

Was in love.

Chapter Text

Interesting.

Pale hands settled over each freckled cheek as a scornful smile spread wide across the country's face. Blue light from the orbs illuminated the basement. Narrowed eyes veiled, behind a light dusting of lashes, baby blue irises that leered at the crystal. Those seemingly luminous orbs licked over every inch of the Italian's figure—hungrily.

The Englishman ran his tongue along his lips, sliding across the upper one for just a tad longer. His eyes trained on the increasing tent of the subject's groin.

Interesting, indeed.

Seeing no more development at the moment, he brought his focus away from the near-rutting Italian to check on another concern. The body. His-Luciano's to be exact. Floating in a light blue glowing tank of life sustaining fluids, infused with a suspended animation spell to preserve Luciano's body. Any lingering amusement drained out of the strawberry blond as he remembered the state he had found the country in.

It was during one of his black market dives for fresh ingredients that he happened upon the familiar face. What he saw then left him shocked and apoplectic with rage. Deep, dark patches of red and black mottled the tan skin, so much so he couldn't tell if it were bruisings or scabs. Startling red wrapped around the once spotless neck. Traces of having been strapped down on a table for who knows how long or why. And the darker Italian was obviously still on some sort of a drug high. The only reason why he did not break composure right there and then was because of his polished self-constraints. He was in one of the most cut-throat parts of his lands.

How dare anyone do this to another country.

How could they have.

They weren't actually human. As much as they looked like their people they physically weren't. Anything that humans tried to do wouldn't leave a mark—it shouldn't. The only obvious answer would be the others...

Only problem was that everyone of those self-centered idiots were, well—too self-obssessed to care about anyone other than themselves. Now, usually he would be part of the gang too, hell he'd be drowning in his own narcissism. But this is different. If there were someone out there capable of reducing country's body to such a state, who is to say he couldn't be next.

Such thoughts clouded his mind as he hastily made payment for the nation.

Subsequent tinkering with the Italian's body harboured no useful results and instead worsened the body, forcing the Englishman to separate the mind from the body.

"Oliver."

The pastel-clad country snapped out of his useless brooding and glared at the offending distraction. An unimpressed pair of red returned the favour, gazing back dead in his eyes.

"Kuro."

They continued their stare off, asserting their own dominance until a burly, scarred blond sauntered down from the stairs, noisily munching on a muffin that suspiciously looked like one of those on the cooling rack in the bakery. They tore their gaze away simultaneously.

Exasperated, Oliver started, "What do you want from me now? I doubt all you're here for is to lay your hands on my merchandise."

Unabashed, Lutz continued to stuff himself with the pastry.

Kuro on the other hand, though not even bothering to hide his flagrant resentment, did answer.

"We came to check in."

"Well there's still been no sign of any improvement, as per usual. But..."

A smirk danced across the Englishman's face.

"... It does seem like our lovely poppet has an object of fancy. Even popped a bone for the guy. First in a century."

The Japanese remained silent.

The German, however, choked on the cake and was hacking his lung out. It sounded as if he was trying to breathe in a vacuum.

"... Him?... Like...ing someone?... Are we still talking about Luci...ano..?..."

"Yes and unfortunately."

Waving his hand in the air in a seemingly random fashion, he beckoned the two over with his other. A mini image of the italian materialized, showing the
apparent bulge in trousers.

The blacket sighed in frustration. Lutz, as expected, acted like a child and whined. The unspoken I don't want to see this blatantly hung in the air. Oliver sniggered. With a wave of a finger, the image dissolved into smoke, relieving the two axis countries of their misery.

"As you can see he's perfectly fine. So if you would be so kind as to be on your jolly way out now."

Eyes narrowed, commanding an air of threat. Kuro sensing the crackling of magic emanating from the Englishman strutted up the stairs, purple cape fluttering with each step. The oblivious blond followed suit shortly pottering out like he did when he arrived. Seems to be planning to nick another cupcake.

Not that Oliver could do anything to stop that.

Just as i thought things were less troublesome...

He sighs.

Chapter Text

I deeply apologise for holding out for so long but I have decided to abandon this work. I had been struggling for a long time to try to continue but the words simply didn't come to me like they did when I idea was first conceived.

I again apologise for wasting your time waiting for an update only to say I'm not going to anymore.

But if it interests you, feel free to adopt it