GerIta ; My Type Of Luck, Is No Luck

Frau, more like no

I don't own any of the Hetalia characters, they belong to their respective owner.

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Feliciano's P.O.V

My beating heart finally seems to calm down as I hurry back into the steamy kitchen, snapping my my most recent orders onto the rotating belt, I watch them get spun around. They each get snatched up by various chefs who in turn get begin to prepare each meal course. Searching the busy, bustling kitchen for a place to rest, I spot a chair and immediately go sit down.

As I sit here, my heart finally settles at a regularly, normal, pace, my mind seeming to take the next lead to race off, I sit back and let my mind wander. I find myself asking, how did my life become so fucked up?

That's right... Luck hates me.

My dear, older, brother, Loviano, pulls up a chair and finds a spot next to me. He's exhausted as well. Who could blame us? We're always working, the best waiters in the whole cafe! It's not easy...

  "I can't keep going on like this! Who do they think they are?" I quietly whisper over, huffing in annoyance.

  "I know how you feel but we can't do a thing to change that, now can we? Don't worry, at least they won't let anyone buy you. Remember that one man I told you about? He's a regular, he comes in every single fucking night to fuck. If that idiot comes in again, I'll cut off his large ass balls," Lovi threatens, glaring at the air in utter frustration, causing me to shake with laughter. A rare yet affectionate smile is thrown at me when he sees my head get thrown back from the force of my laughter, and I almost feel better immediately.

  "Come on now, do you know what would happen if they caught us taking an unscheduled break? I'm not in for getting a whipping today," Loviano reaches out his hand and helps lift me onto my feet, hoisting me up off of the chair. I smile at him and nod a curt 'thank you' in appreciation, rushing back over to the where my favorite rude chefs were ringing the bells to signify that their 'work of art' was ready to be served. I pick up a tray full of finished orders and head out through the swinging doors to hand them out to each of their respective costumers.

  "Good luck, big bro!" I cheer, walking out to serve tables 5, 7, 13, 15, 17, and 21. At each table, I'm either cat called or thanked. It's normal, given the fact that I look like a petite and fragile teenage girl. My hips were wider than a boy my age should have, my lashes far too long, my face a little too soft and rounded, and my voice rather... feminine.

  As I'm leaving table 21, I hear someone else call out to me. Usually I would've ignored it and continued on my way, but there was something about it that beckoned to me. It was deep, sending a shiver up my spine and causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand. Instead of continuing along, I turn around walk towards it, not sure what I'm looking for.

  "Hallo schöne Frau," the same voice calls out, the same husky tone present. I turn my head slightly to the left and spot a breathtakingly handsome blond man. His vibrantly blonde locks were slicked back neatly and his eyes were like a deep ocean, far off in a beautifully expensive place, though I wouldn't know where. A soft, gentle smile adored his features, nothing perverse like most customers.

  I freeze, stuck in place. My mind taking off at light speed! Oh my god, he cannot be talking to me.... Stupidly, I point to myself and glance around, almost expecting a woman with tight, revealing clothes, a fake synthetically snatched wig, and a plastic body beyond repair to be running past me any second now but there was no Barbie pushing me down to the floor. No one but me.

"M-me?" I stutter shyly, a blush creeping up to my face.

  "Oh, excuse me. I'm used to speaking in German. Will you come sit with me, Frau?" I was star struck, and although I knew I would be severely punished for backing up the schedule and not attending to the other tables, I took my chance and sat down. "I haven't seen you before. My brother, Gilbert, co-owns this establishment. I'm not sure what I would call it, A strip-bar cafè? So, is it safe to assume that you work here?"