[Axis Powers Hetalia][fic] The Open Road

[moonsheen]

This is largely adesso's fault.




There were a good number of reasons to be pulled over abroad. Germany most especially disliked this one. He considered himself a responsible driver. He was responsible for many of the cars on the road at present, and unlike many older nations he had not grown so enamored to the horse that he found the conversion debilitating. He had not had centuries to grow attached, and he considered roads firm guidelines, not suggestions.

As such it was rather embarrassing to discover himself flagged down by an American policeman driving down to D.C. in what had been, mostly, on whim. Not his whim, particularly.

"Let me speak," he reminded his companion. Germany found English quite familiar. Italia considered it great fun. He cut off the mild protest quickly with a sharp: "And human names, Feliciano!" For a sizeable peninsula of over a thousand, Italia could be quite forgetful of things like this.

"Of course officer, I absolutely understand," said Ludwig, rolling the window down as the policeman approached the car, "It is my responsibility. I will show you any identification required." He reached for the glove compartment. The proper documentation had not been there a moment ago, but they were there now.

The policeman leaned down through the window. "Nah," he said, tipping up his glasses. He had young blue eyes and a big happy grin. "You don't gotta. I already know you lie about your age."

"Amerika!" Germany started, this could possibly be very good or very bad.

"Officer Jones at your service," winked the US. "You might wanna tone it down a little though. I know you've got your Autobahn but in THIS part of me," he tapped his knuckles against his temple, "you could get one helluva fine for driving like that."

"I was perfectly aware of this," said Germany, settling awkwardly. Perhaps this would not take long. Perhaps he would not pry. "It is complicated, you see... and..." He paused. "This part of you? Your federal laws do not cover..."

The US laughed, waving a hand. "Don't ask. You don't wanna get me going. They started party systems to cover questions like that. Look, you're lucky I'm the one that caught you. I've been watching you since Jersey and BOY you really booked it..."

It seemed that conversation was unavoidable; mentally swearing Germany furrowed his brow and leaned as subtly as he could over the wheel. "Were you not supposed to be waiting for us in D.C?" Did he not want to go ahead, to the capital and continue to wait there? Surely he would. Surely he would get the message via telepathy and simply go.

"Oh, I'm there too. But I had to catch the game, yanno?"

"Then I am assuming then that you have seen Japan." This did not bode well for Germany. America was very subject to certain sorts of influence and there was never any telling what Japan might attempt to sell him in between the ordering of stadium hot dogs. Germany did a quick calculation of his latest auto exports. The numbers came up lacking. He frowned. He would have liked to have resolved this, but there was no time. "I should hope that he is well."

He would have lightly changed the subject, and then perhaps negotiated to be on his way in the promptest way possible, so that the whole incident might be forgotten...except that at that moment Italia chose to make his presence known. "Oh," he cried, overcome. He shot up in the passenger's side, practically nose to nose with the US. "Giaponne. Did you tell him that I have said hello? I asked that you did the last time, you remember don't you? He pretends not to hear me when I say it so I ask that you do it instead! Buon giorno, Alfredo! I would give you a kiss but Germa--ah, Ludwig has asked me not to break his car."

None of this would have been nearly as horrifying as it were if Italia had not emerged from under the dashboard.

From the driver's side.

And if he had not made a particular point of wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve before he spoke.

"Human names," repeated Germany, dully. Italia had at least remembered that.

"Woah," said the US.

"This can be explained," began Germany. The US put his hands up and took a step away.

"Woah," he said, his eyes had gone as big as his glasses.

Italia made a sudden swift observation of the circumstance and came bravely to the rescue, "The cannoli was under the--"

"I'M SURE IT WAS," said the US. "YOU KNOW WHAT. I'LL SEE YOU GUYS IN WASHINGTON. UH. MEETINGS AT NINE. WE'RE GOOD? YEAH WE'RE GOOD. AND UM, I KNOW YOU GUYS DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY IN EUROPE BUT I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S ILLEGAL IN..." he tried to tick off his fingers and gave up. "A WHOLE LOT OF ME SO, YOU KNOW. JUST. UH. UH. DON'T START ANY WARS IN EUROPE IN THE MEAN TIME SEE YOU ROUND BYE."

He did not so much get back into his car and flee as he did simply disappear from the side of the road, leaving a great feeling of Not Paying Attention To This Now to permeate this particular stretch of highway.

"Mm," said Italia, tragically. "He did not answer my question."

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am sure he delivered your message," he said, he could hear the blood in his ears. It wasn't a true pulse, of course. It sounded more like especially energy wasteful cars screaming through one ear and out the other. "Venedig," he said, with feeling. Italia looked at him. "This is why we do not do things like this in the car."

"I understand, Germania," said Italia. "Since you are so embarrassed, I will no longer eat cannoli in your car."

"Thank you, Venedig. It ruins the upholstery," said Germany. "And as to the other thing..."

"I can promise nothing!" Italia smiled, there was something much less than godly dancing in his eyes. He licked icing of his middle finger, and then also his thumb. "After all, no one has yet caught us doing that."