Hey guys! Another Hetalia one-shot because I just couldn't keep my hands off this fandom! XD

It was true that Italy's eyes were closed most of the time, but that was because they were meant for a certain function: wooing.

Everyone knew that Italy was a woman's man; almost like a player. He was like an artwork; you could look, but not touch. Not like Germany would allow that, either way.

He worked his charms with the ladies, and even the men on occasion; charming them through secrets he never revealed (except for Japan, who witnessed it first-hand when he visited him once).

This, to Germany seemed mysterious, as he knew his friend as only a goof that did nothing but eat pasta, play with cats during training and wave a white flag at anything remotely menacing.

He was small, and weak, and... cute?

Was that it? No, no. There was no way that.. thing- his friend- was in anyway attractive... or so he thought.

There was still that inexplicable ability of his to flirt with any women of his choosing- in his underwear no less- and get them to cover his arm like bees to honey.

Sometimes it was just annoying. Occasionally, when he visited Italy, he would find the brunette covered in mushy, heart-flinging piles of goo he assumed to be people.

So that was the problem: Germany didn't find Italy in any way attractive (he denied it thoroughly), even though there was substantial evidence that he was.

There was an appalling truth hidden in there, and he was going to find out.

"Italy, can I come visit some time?"

"Vee...? Si, it's okay! I can come-a to pick-a you up!"

"Good, I will see you tomorrow."

"Ciao bello, see you tomorrow! Siesta!"

Italy pranced off to the ladies swinging their hips and joined them before striping off his top and making them swoon. Hard.

Germany was going to figure this out. Whether it killed him or not.


The Italian country ran full speed at the German and shot at him, his arms outstretched while he flied through the air.

"You came to-a visit me!"

"Off!" Germany yelled when Italy squeezed him around the neck. He stood up from his place on the ground, and the brunette refused to let go, letting himself dangle from Germany's neck.

"Feliciano!~ Ciao bello, are you going to do the thing today? It's pasta day after all!" A man yelled from his door.

"Feliciano, I'll-a make you the best pasta you ever tasted if you do the thing!" Another lady called from her balcony.

"Okay!" Italy chimed.

Germany raised an eyebrow in confusion. What was 'the thing'?

Slowly but surely, he could see a horde of people coming down the streets and lining up against the houses. The men were stationed against the wall, and the women stood in front of them.

To Germany, it looked like some kind of preventative measure for something. But what?

"Ok Feliciano, do your thing, everyone is ready!" Someone called from the crowd.

"Veeee!~" With a cry, Italy opened his eyes.

Germany's jaw dropped. Italy's eyes were open.



Germany tore his eyes away from his friend when he heard thumps of something soft hitting the stone walkways. People were dropping like flies! They simply took one look at Italy's face, and went limp with a sigh of content.

The women were first. They fell into the arms of the waiting men, and then they too, fell to their knees.

"Ave Maria, we have a saint with a face of gold." One man said before collapsing.

This was the time. Germany had to see it or he might lose his chance. He shook out of his stupor, and chased after Italy, who was walking down the road looking left and right to make the people around him faint.

"IIIIITTTAAAALLLYYYYYY!" He screamed while he ran. He skidded to a stop and whipped around to see his face.

It was manly.

So, SO, very manly.

"Hmm?" Italy questioned, smirking. He gave a wink and suddenly Germany knew why.

If looks could kill, Germany was already dead.

Here is the link to a manly Italy (it's near the end), you know the drill: