[Fic Fill] "Weeds?"

[qualapec.livejournal.com]

Title: "Weeds?"
Author: Me
Recipient: milavalentine
Characters/Pairings: Germany/Italy, mentions of Gilbert
Rating: PG to Pg-13 ish for accidental placement of certain plants.
Notes: I'm sorry if this isn't quite what you were looking for... but it's the only clever thing I could think of. Not doing this to make any sort of a statement, just a funny coincidence.
Summary: Germany loves the organization of his garden, loves the science behind finding the perfect formula for each plant. Of course, Italy just has to go and add a little chaos to his fertilizer.

Germany took to gardening like he took to other things in his life; in the most efficient and brutally logical way possible. He took the directions for each plant, Internet tips, and optimum growing conditions like a work of scripture.  His garden consisted of both an outdoor area, for appearances, and a greenhouse specifically for growing vegetables. After many years of trying to perfect his techniques, he believed he had a fairly stable formula for each plant.

 

Germany liked the scientific nature to it. Plants weren’t like dogs, they didn’t cry when he did something wrong, and he could start over if he made a misstep. Dealing with the other nations certainly wasn’t as easy; they were all in a constant state of chaos that would drive him insane if he decided to organize. He loved his dogs like an extension of himself, and he knew he would be lonely without the others…but science-tangible numbers and laws and rules- were so much easier to grasp and control.

 

The garden kept him from jumping out of a window (which, regrettably, would not kill him. If he did something like that it would only be to prove a point).

 

As he entered the heat of the greenhouse and went about delivering the specified amount of water to each of his vegetable plants, he wondered where Italy was. The zucchini would be ready soon and he knew how the other nation loved to share in his fresh organics.

 

~~~

 

Italy hummed musically as he strolled down the road to Germany’s place; it was hard to keep from sprinting. But once he’d sprinted and a lady had looked at him like he was crazy…better not to draw attention to the other nation, Italy decided. Germany would yell at him if he got the neighborhood up in an uproar.

 

Germany’s house was very well kept. Even the garden, which Italy felt should have a little chaos to it, was painfully organized. It was a sad state in his friend’s house when tulips had to be lined up like soldiers.

 

Italy pondered the seeds in his pocket, and an idea formulated in his head.

 

Experimentally leaning into the window, Italy called, “Germany~! Are you home? Gilbert? Anybody?”

 

No response came from inside.

 

Dancing and looking over his shoulders the entire time, Italy glided across the manicured lawn to the line of plants. Germany never accepted things that went out of his order before they happened. Over the better part of a century, Italy had found Germany always responded best to surprises when it was too late to do anything about them; only then did he remember he enjoyed them.

 

 

Romano had said someone gave him a bag full of tomato-plant seeds for free and passed them on to Feliciano as a begrudging display of brotherly love.

 

Italy went about planting them in the most haphazard locations throughout the garden. Any spare nook or cranny he could find became home to one of the little white pellets. Taking care to make sure they weren’t too organized, he paid special attention to making sure the entire thing was asymmetrical. Like a painting, Italy felt that a garden should have a little lopsided balance to it.

 

Germany liked tomatoes. Italy smiled to himself proudly as he thought about the look on the other man’s face when he saw his new vegetation.

 

~~~

 

About two weeks later, Italy was making coffee in his kitchen, singing to himself as he put together the appropriate mixture of milk, cane sugar, and other smatterings of flavor Germany had never asked about.

 

The German folded up the paper and sighed. News that wasn’t news was just stressful. Trouble in the Middle East. Apparently Russia and America were at each other’s throats again. It was just more insanity that he couldn’t dream of compartmentalizing.

 

Time to go to his garden.

 

He yawned undignifiedly, put on his coat, and stalked out into his front yard.

 

Immediately, something struck him as odd.

 

Green sprouts popping up helter-skelter across his garden. “Weeds?” he thought out-loud to himself, rethinking whether or not he’d applied the appropriate amount of weed-killer.

 

With a furrowed brow, the German bent over to take a closer look at the green leaves. They smelled faintly of skunk and rose towards the sun like floral palms.

 

He almost had a heart attack when he realized what they were.

 

~~~

 

“ITALY!”

 

Italy almost dropped his cup of coffee when he heard Germany bellow his name from the garden. A thousand immediate reasons for his friend’s distress shot through his mind. Was Europe under attack again? Did Russia and America finally decide to complete the World War trilogy? In a panic, he shot out into the yard (soooo not planning to run away the second he got outside).

 

No bombers, no mushroom clouds in the distance, and no invading force that Italy could see, no flying saucers shooting lasers at fleeing civilians. All he saw was Germany with his freaked-out face pointing frantically at the tomato plants sprouting up all over his garden.

 

Uh-oh. Germany was mad.

 

“I-Italy!” Germany growled. “Did you see Gilbert do this? That…hoodlum. That one-tracked delinquent, pompus assed Scheißekopf is trying to get me arrested!”

 

Italy blinked.

 

“Well! Speak up!”

 

The Italian nation cringed. “I put those there.”

 

Germany’s mouth fell open then closed as he tried to speak; he resembled a drowning fish with hair gel. “You…You what? Italy, you don’t have to cover for him.”

 

“I’m not,” Italy insisted. “I thought you’d like tomatoes because you don’t have any tomatoes or any red colors in your garden and frankly your garden is freakishly organized. Who’s garden is really that organized?! Even Japan isn’t that anal-retentive!” He used the big words he’d learned from listening to England criticize others.

 

Germany took a few moments to process what his friend had just said before promptly walking over, grabbing Italy by the shoulders, and shaking him. “What kind of adult would think those were tomato plants!”

 

Italy looked from Germany’s anxious face to the five-leafed sprouts. “If they aren’t tomato plants…what are they?” A part of him knew the answer when he asked it.

 

The taller nation looked around nervously, suddenly realizing that his yelling may have drawn attention to them that was very unwanted right then. Quietly, he whispered, “Marijuana.”

 

Italy stared at him for a long moment. “Oh…”

 

“’Oh’ is right,” Germany said calmly. “Now for the love of Gott, hemp me-I mean, help me get these out of here before anybody notices.”

 

Like he would in the days they were soldiers, Italy rose on hand in salute and nodded an affirmative.

 

They spent the rest of the day pulling the illicit substances from the soil. While a small amount was generally not prosecuted in Germany, there were more than enough plants to qualify as a grow operation. While Germany wasn’t worried about facing charges-the top brass would make sure any legal issues disappeared- it would have felt terribly wrong to purposefully break his own laws. That, and his neighbors would look at him like a felon.

 

Besides, he’d underestimated how much…fun(?) it could be to do yard work with Italy. Germany knew he approached the task like he approached a particularly difficult scientific problem. Italy, like everything else he did, went about the project like it was some fun, artsy thing to do. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was pulling illegal weeds out of his friend’s garden, he wore the same face that he wore when he painted or sunned at the beach…there was something terribly comforting about that cheerful consistency.

 

~~~

 

“Should we burn them to get rid of them?”

 

“No.”

 

~~~

NOTES:

Scheißekopf – Shit head

 

• Germany is pretty strict about drug laws, but people generally won’t be arrested for small amounts, or so I’ve read. Wikipedia may be wrong.

Comments

[kasumicc.livejournal.com]

How funny xD Poor innocent Italy! And poor Germany, but I wonder what he does plan to do with those plants 8D

[qualapec.livejournal.com]

I hadn't thought through how Germany would get rid of them. All I know is Gilbert's going to come home and find the ones Germany and Italy missed and be all like, "Hey, what's that?" XD

[neocloud9.livejournal.com]

Aww, that was hilarious! XD

[qualapec.livejournal.com]

Thank you ^_^

[milavalentine.livejournal.com]

Ohmai, I teared up while laughing my lungs off here.

Thank you so much!!! ♥♥♥ Askjds I was hoping so much to see this filled but I had no idea of what could come out of it, and I'm SOO PLEASED ♥ Thank you so so much!

[qualapec.livejournal.com]

So very glad you liked it! That's a huge relief. I originally planned to write just something cute and fluffy...but then THIS idea wouldn't leave me alone. So I wrote it and prayed it wouldn't offend your sensibilities or anything ^^; That's AWESOME that you liked it and you're very welcome! It was amazingly fun to write.

[milavalentine.livejournal.com]

No way, this is fantastic! I couldn't stop imagining Germany's face as he found out the marijuana plants xDD' oh god, and the way he fumed about Gilbert ♥ so awesome ♥

[amoyr.livejournal.com]

I can only wonder where Romano got those XDDD Italy's reaction to Germany getting mad was priceless and gods, World War trilogy made me laugh harder than it rightfully should have.

And lol at how Prussia is the first person Germany would associate with messing up his garden~ XD This was an extremely fun read =)

[blackhurt17.livejournal.com]

hheh should we burn them to get rid of them :p hahah totally cracking up