It's just pure and simple GerIta (Germany/Ludwig x Northern Italy/Feliciano/Veneziano). This, of course, means it's boy x boy or man x man or yaoi or whatever you wanna call it, and if you don't like that, this probably isn't the story for you. Anyw...
In the morning, Ludwig holed himself up in his study, enslaved himself to his paperwork and his phone calls and his emails, and was generally hell bent on being so busy that he missed the Italian's visit altogether. This made him more determined than usual and he managed to get his work finished by the late afternoon instead of well after dark, even with all the unfinished business leftover from yesterday. Still, late afternoon was too late for the Italian so when Ludwig emerged from his study, he emerged from it victorious.
He found Gilbert in the front yard, playing fetch with the dogs in flip-flops and shorts. He had a cooler and a suspiciously dry beach towel set out on the front walkway, and—oh, no—Ludwig's mood plummeted. He hadn't missed the Italian's visit at all, had he? How late was he going to be?
He let Gilbert coerce him into changing his clothes so he could come with.
***
Feli was so excited for his outing with the German brothers that he hardly managed to sleep in or laze about the house all day (instead of finally unpacking) or take his siesta in the afternoon, and he practically bounced all the way back to the Beilschmidts' house just as the sun was really starting to make its downward arc towards the horizon and cast everything in a more orangey glow than normal.
He found Gilbert on the front lawn with a tennis ball in hand and a wave at the ready for him, and Mr. Beilschmidt was on the front step in a dark tank top and khaki shorts with his head in his hands, messing up his slicked back hair. The sight of him was enough to send all the blood in Feli's body rushing to his head, and he stumbled a little, not feeling quite so right, like he had at the end of the evening yesterday. Ha! What was with that? Feli shook the feeling off and got the bounce back in his step.
He scooped up bella Marilyn, flicked his shades off the top of his head and onto his eyes, and then showed off his new pair of short shorts he'd gotten, in a coffee color remarkably close to his skin tone, to a rather downtrodden-looking Mr. Beilschmidt. The German was very tight-lipped with him, much the same level of reticence as yesterday, and then they all started on the walk to the lake Gilbert had in mind.
It was a bit far and maybe Feli really should have come a bit earlier, but they got there all the same. It was a smaller, private affair, nestled in the woods and the hills and not crawling with tourists, and- Oh. Feliciano did not even think of stifling his gasp when he saw it. The Mediterranean could be as clear and blue as the sky but- Feli didn't even know—didn't have words for it. He paced the shore of the lake for a minute, speechless.
The Mediterranean could be as clear and blue as the sky, but a German lake could look like it didn't even have water in it. Like glass? Like air? What was the appropriate comparison to make here? A leaf floating nearby on the surface seemed to be suspended in midair.
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