Italy, springtime. It is breathtaking, and so much more different than Germany. Rolling hills of lush green, patches of vivid wildflower, warm zephyrs making its way through the quaint little villages scattering the countryside - and a far too cheerful young man smiling beneath the shade of a grand willow. His auburn hair darkens in the sunlight, but his eyes remain golden and bright. He moves with a grace unparalleled, bounding from one cluster of flora to the next. He is a distance away, but the laughter that rings with the wind is unmistakably his. Italy in the spring. Beautiful, wonderful, warm - all the things he finds within a certain eccentric Italian who is headed his way.
"Ludwig, Ludwig!" His name, a name normally spoken in harsh, jagged syllables, becomes lyrical and almost song-like in a lilting accent. Feliciano approaches, and does not think twice in throwing his arms around broad, sculpted shoulders. It is familiar, but to Ludwig, it is still too new. He is awkward where Feliciano is a natural. The hug is over in a moment, and Ludwig feels a pang of loss before he realizes. An expression akin to pleased passes the German's face, and he hums a greeting. "Good morning, Felic-"
Before he knows it, a hand has grabbed his, and an insistent tug leads him underneath the willow. "Hey, Lud, it's the first day of spring!" Feliciano radiates excitement, and Ludwig finds it is almost electrifying. It is palpable in the atmosphere they share, and it affects Ludwig more than he can admit. "Yes, I suppose it is, Feliciano. Now what on Earth did you bring me here for?"
A reason had not been disclosed to him the night prior, when Feliciano's voice chirped in his ear through the telephone: "Luddy, you have to meet me by the big willow tree outside of town tomorrow, and you have to be really early because I planned something and had Lovi and Antonio help me, and it's going to be so fun, so don't be late, okay? Bye!" Ludwig makes a small pleased sound at the memory of not being given a chance to respond in his half-asleep daze.
He blinks in mild surprise as Feliciano quite literally pushes him down to the ground. Ludwig falls in a sitting position, and he narrows his eyes at the grinning Italian. "Feliciano, what are you-" And once again, he is denied a chance to speak; Feliciano has gone away to pick up a basket - where did he get that? - and pranced back without a single care in the world. He giggles and settles himself across from Ludwig, basket resting neatly in his lap. Only then does he notice that it is overflowing with flowers of all colours and shapes and sizes.
Feliciano hums a song unknown to Ludwig, but the exuberant rise and fall of the notes brings forth a happy feeling. Skilful hands pick up a handful of the blooming plants, and he eagerly shows them to Ludwig. "Aren't they bello, Ludwig? I picked some just this morning out in the fields! There were so many; you should have seen them! There were orchids, lavenders, larkspurs, periwinkles, and I even got the chance to pick some daffodils and primroses!" With each name, Feliciano's face lights up ever brighter, and Ludwig is reminded of just why he enjoys the springtime in Italy. Feliciano continues to talk, hands animated as they make wild gestures, words soft then almost shouting, accent growing stronger in some pronunciation and almost none the next, and golden eyes telling stories in a way no word in any language could tell.
"..And since it's the first day of spring," he grows serious, and Ludwig is immediately concerned, "I'm going to put these flowers in your hair and my hair and maybe even make you something out of them, and we're going to celebrate la primavera!" The German relaxes with a sigh. So this was what he was planning, he thinks, and the thought is endearing and sweet and so Feliciano that Ludwig cannot stop a smile. "Well, since it is for festivities.. I suppose I can allow you to do that just this once." Ludwig is lying; he knows he will do whatever Feliciano asks even without a reason. He knows he lets Feli do as he likes as much as he wants because Ludwig is lying if he says he doesn't feel his chest swell almost painfully whenever the Italian is happy, especially around him.
Feliciano claps his hands together and cheers. It takes him no longer than a second to jump immediately at the acceptance. "Questo è così meraviglioso!" His innocence, his simple desires, his easy smiles, and excitable nature - they are reasons for Ludwig's heart beating rapidly in his chest. "Alright, alright, now let's get this over with," he says with a mock monotonous voice, but Feliciano knows he is happier than he lets on.
Before long, Ludwig is almost completely engulfed in a sea of multicoloured petals. Red, yellow, violet - Ludwig is certain that every colour known to man is somewhere in his hair and clothes. Feli puts another primrose in Ludwig's breast pocket, the crown of flora sitting atop his head sliding down his forehead as he leaned forward. "There!" He is satisfied with his work, Ludwig observes. "I feel like I'm nothing but flowers now," he muses jovially. "Don't be silly, Ludwig, you still look like you, except with a lot of flowers! Now you don't look as big and scary!"
"Well, then how am I supposed to fend off the British if I am no longer 'big and scary'?" The question sends Feliciano into a flurry. He fusses and asks and makes those same wild gestures Ludwig has grown to adore. The blonde chuckles and grabs Feliciano's hands. "I'm only kidding, Feli! Nobody will come and get you, ja? Not while I'm around. I may have flowers all over me, but I am still capable of fighting when I need to." Feliciano calms at the sound of Ludwig's deep baritone, relaxes in his careful touch. He briefly wonders why everyone else seems to be afraid of him when all he is is wonderful and caring and everything only Feliciano seems to notice.
Smiling ever so brightly, Feliciano climbs into Ludwig's lap and rests his cheek on his chest, oblivious to the German's surprised and frankly quite nervous disposition; he knows it does not last long. "Silly, Ludwig, always ready to fight. Don't worry, it's spring! Everybody is happy, and there's no need for that! We just sing songs and make friends and smile a lot," he assures.
Ludwig melts against Feliciano's embrace; brings his own arms around his lanky frame. His chin brushes against soft, auburn hair. Warmth emanates from Feliciano's very existence. The smell of flowers - of sweetness, of innocence, of spring - brings serenity, and they sit underneath the shade of a grand willow tree in silence. Springtime, Ludwig decides, is the best time to be in Italy. The flowers are in bloom, people in the town dance and sing and cheer, the weather grows calm, and he finds himself in the presence of a radiant Italian he is grateful to call his everything.
