Chapter Text
Sunlight shone through an open window, speckling warm, brown hair with soft, golden light as it did so. Rome was almost never serious about anything, or, rather, he was never outwardly serious about anything. Germania had known his rival long and intimately enough that there was always more going on behind the other man's bright, mischievous eyes than it seemed, but at a time like this, there was just something about the Italian's look of pure concentration that seemed so different.
Rome's artwork was always beautiful. Germania knew that from the many paintings his half-friend-half-enemy had enthusiastically forced upon him in the past, but he had never seen Rome in the midst of painting like he was now. His eyes were trained to his work, and the slightest smile was on his face. One that was absentminded, had no malice or punchline behind it, and left the slightest crinkle in the corner of his eye. Until now, Germania realized, he had never really imagined Rome in this kind of genuine happiness.
Of course, Germania knew that was ridiculous. Everyone was capable of that, and a man as laid back and playful as Rome certainly was no exception, but the way he seemed at peace. The way he seemed so relaxed. It was as if Germania was spying on him, and the other man was completely unaware, thinking he was alone. The blond wouldn't have been surprised, though, if that really was the case. Maybe he had forgotten Germania was in the room. Maybe that's why Germania had been able to steal such a long glance at him without him realizing. Maybe Germania just didn't look at him enough, and that was why he never saw this man, his form carved expertly out of marble, so vulnerable like he was now.
Germania felt the urge to reach out and touch the Empire's sun-kissed hair and just barely resisted. It looked soft. Beautiful on him, for once, even. He knew Rome certainly wouldn't mind, but Germania wasn't into men that way. Even if he was, he wasn't looking forward to the smug look and teasing words he had come so quickly to despise.
"Looking at me instead of the painting?"
Germania's eyes met Rome's. The latter wasn't teasing him for once, and Germania was surprised to find that Rome even sounded a little disappointed. He felt his cheeks grow warm at being caught staring. Perhaps, in this moment, they had both dropped their guard.
"My eyes can do what they please." Germania snapped, before turning away from Rome altogether. He waited for the sound of Rome's brushstrokes to resume before stealing another quick glance.
"Oh, come on, Germania! Can't you even just look at me??"
"Germania, Germania, you're not even writing anything anyway!"
"Did you forget how to use my alphabet? If you want, I can teach you, but it'll come with a price."
"Come on, let's fight!"
It had gone on like this for longer than Germania, as patient as he was, could take. In life, he had been less inclined to writing than Rome had been. He had always been much more focused on the here and now than the memories of the past or the opinions of the people of the future. Traditions and stories were just fine being told orally in his culture, and he hadn't found much use in recording the history of his people or the cultures of those around him.
When he had joined the other ancient nations in heaven, he had found that to be quite a mistake.
Thousands of years later, he learned that his memory had become clouded. There were bits and pieces that he struggled to recall. Gaps in events that he could once upon a time recall in great detail. Even his own language had begun to twist and mend with modern German due to centuries upon centuries of disuse.
He would never admit it to anyone, especially not Rome, but he regretted now that he did not record his own history, and as a result, he had taken up writing not to long ago. He had had the time now, after all. Germania had no bosses or wars to worry about, and so much time to spend in peace with his (admittedly) closest companion at his side. That last part always made him happy, even if Rome could be quite annoying, just like he was now.
"I don't want to fight. Can't you see I'm busy?" His voice had come out snappier than he had intended. The notebook he hovered over was still blank. He had been staring at it in silence for awhile, now. Occasionally he wrote something, but he would soon erase it not long after. His writer's block was undeniable, but Germania was stubborn, and he wanted to write something.
But then Rome sighed behind him, and Germania could feel the warmth of the other man as arms wrapped around him and a lightly stubbled jaw pressed against his cheek.
"Oh, come on, Germania. You've been sitting like this for hours now."
"It hasn't been more than an hour and a half."
"Either way, that's a long time of absolutely nothing!" He said, squeezing Germania tighter. The blond grumbled in feigned annoyance. "Shouldn't you take a break? I find when I cant think of what to draw or paint, a walk outside or an invigorating sparring session usually does the trick!"
Unfortunately, Rome made a good point, and Germania couldn't exactly argue, so he chose to stay silent.
"Come on. We used to fight so often! You aren't so old that you've forgotten how to lift a sword, have you?"
"Get off of me, idiot."
And then Rome let out a soft chuckle, his warm breath tickling the shell of Germania's ear and sending a tingle down his spine.
"Make me."
Of course, Germania wanted Rome off of him. That was the only reason he decided to do what he did next. Not because he wanted to spar with Rome, not because he thought this was fun. It was annoying and Germania did not like the way Rome spoke so closely to his ear.
Before Rome could realize what was happening, Germania was able to ram his head against the side of the Roman's jaw. Rome gasped in surprise, and Germania took the chance while he was stunned to jab him sharply in the side with his fingers as he rose from his chair and turned to face him. When Rome went to defend his side, Germania grabbed him by his shirt collar, pulling him around and forcing him up against the wall beside the work desk. Germania glared into the other man's soft, brown eyes, his forearm pressed up against Rome's chest to pin him there.
"For an empire, you're shockingly easily conquered."
"For a man who shits in the forest, you're shockingly well groomed." And there was that stupid, shit eating grin back on the Roman's face again. The one Germania could hardly bare to look at. One that he absolutely hated.
"Be quiet."
"Or what? You can't make me do anything, Germania~!"
The blond's eyes only narrowed as he glared into Rome's. Those eyes. Those stupid, soft brown eyes. Those eyes that turned just the right shade of honey when the light hit them at the right angle. They made Germania forget what was happening around him, and he barely heard Rome as the former empire rambled on. A warm feeling was building up inside of him — something that only grew in intensity and he wanted so eagerly to release.
"...Woodland shitter! Pant's wearer! Uncivilized-"
And then, when Germania felt as if he was about to melt, he finally thrust forward, closing the distance between them and locking his lips roughly with Rome's. The former empire made a little sound of surprise before gently setting his hands on Germania's hips, causing the blond's heart to flutter as the Roman kissed him back.
When had their rivalry become romance? Germania struggled to recall, and the way his lover's tongue rolled against his was making it less than possible to think about much of anything but Rome himself. It seemed like one day they were acquaintances, then another they were enemies, before one night they were on an elegant Roman balcony, kissing over the moonlit Mediterranean, and then they were dead. First he went, not too much longer after conquering Rome's western empire before Rome finally submitted to the Turks in 1453. When they reunited again in paradise, their true feelings permitted to be acknowledged after thousands of years of nationhood, it didn't take them long to fall into each others' arms and stay there ever since.
Perhaps it didn't matter when it began. Back then, after all, it wouldn't have mattered at all to Germania. All that was was the here and now; Perhaps, Germania thought, he ought to not push away his younger self entirely.
When they pulled away from each other, Rome's hand was on his cheek, and he allowed himself this time to lean into his warmth.
"Oh my, where did that come from, my love?"
"The worst part of me."
"And what part is that, Germania?"
"The part that got attached to a stupid fucking Roman."