Italy's Bullet (Italy X Germany)

Chapter 4

I gulp nervously as I climb into the passenger seat, watching as America gets behind the wheel. Is this really a good idea? What if they think I'm some sort of spy? Well, technically I am doing this kind of in Germany and Italy's favor, getting information. So yeah a spy.

The entire ride to his country is long and silent, only the soft purr of his red convertible is audible. It reminds me of when Italy took me for a ride....in his red convertible. I never want to see him behind the wheel of a car again. I look out the window and daydream about my time with Italy and Germany. It was fun while it lasted when we weren't training. The hills and pastures zip by as the car speeds at least 20 miles over the speed limit. He's a crazy driver.

"We're here, my house is just up this road. I own acres so I basically live out in the middle of nowhere." He says, easing up on the gas. The car slows and I hear the pebbles crunch under the tires as we roll up to a huge farmhouse. I spot four other cars in the driveway, they are here. He cuts off the engine and looks over at me.

"Are you nervous?"

"No." I lie easily, removing my seat belt.

"You should be."

Well, that doesn't make me feel any better. My heart leaps in my chest as he leads me to his front door. He jingles his keys in the door lock, letting it swing open. 

"I'm home!" He calls into the huge hallway. His house is actually quite nice, the light maroon walls go well with the brown leather sofa in the room ahead.

"Ah, Bonjour Mon Ami!" France yells, striding down the hallway toward us, his hips swaying. "You've returned."

"Ugh, you're too perky you bloody frog," England grumbled from the sofa, setting his tea on the coffee table.

"I brought Japan with me! You'll never guess where I ran into him at-"

"Japan?!" England exclaims, giving America a death glare. "Why?!"

America scoffs looking down at me. "I knew the old man wouldn't approve."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD MAN?!"

" Nothing nothing...." America mumbles, placing a hand on my back gently nudging me forward. It feels.......weird. He pushes me into the room and I see Russia sitting in the armchair, knitting. This shocks me because Russia doesn't seem to be the kind of person who knits. The entire time I can feel the scornful eyes of England burning holes in the back of my head.

"So everybody! I brought him here today because he is currently out of the Axis. I figured he could join us!" America exclaims, rupturing a few eardrums I'm sure.

"Bloody hell you can't be serious. Obviously, he's just acting as a spy! We can't trust him." England scoffs, giving America the you-haven't-figured-that-out-yet? look

"I believe that Japan is not an Axis spy. Tell 'em, buddy!" He says, giving me a friendly-yet painful- whack on the back.

I clear my throat nervously. "There have been some issues between Germany and me, so I reft. He was simpry too hard going on his training and I couldn't take it."

"I didn't see you as a man to give up. Ohonhonhon" France chuckles from his seat on the sofa next to Russia. He crosses his legs and rests his head on his palm.

When I didn't respond, America did for me. "And he's not. If he had given up, he would have let down his country. That's why he is joining us!"

"I see no reason why we should let him in," England says simply. He really is a negative person.

"I do," America argues, folding his arms across his chest.

"And what is that? He's a spy!"

"Is not! He just left the Axis, and obviously, he's going to need someone else to help him protect his country."

"Why does that have to be the US?"

"Think about it, it would benefit us too! Japan has some awesome technology that would help us dominate!"

"That still doesn't mean we can trust him!"

"What if we made him sing the contract?" Russia's voice cut in. I almost forgot he was there considering how quiet he is. The room went silent as they considered it. Contract? Why would I have to sign a contract? I feel like there is something they are not going to tell me...

"Maybe...I suppose we can trust him after he signs it.."

Which contract is this again?" America asks confused scratching the back of his neck. England and France both stand up, walking him into the hall out of earshot. Russia soon follows behind, leaving me alone and confused.

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