APH-AmericaxBlind!Reader ~Protector and Hero~ P.2

The cool twilight air caresses your skin, the moist smell of soil reaches your nostrils as the weak crunching of autumn leaves under your feet crackles in your ears. Alfred's warm hand over yours combats the growing chill, though you pull your light jacket tighter around your neck. The cloth scrapes against your sensitive skin, once again igniting your nerves and setting your teeth on edge. Your American boyfriend reassuringly tightens his grip on your palm.

“I dunno why you're so worried, babe.”

You tilt your head, directing your unseeing eyes towards Alfred's voice. “You're taking me to meet the personification of the Axis powers from World War II. I think any human would be a little worried.”

The catch in Alfred's laugh assures you not all mistakes are in the past, but enough time has passed that he's willing to befriend the personifications of Japan, Italy and Germany. Sighing, you pull Alfred's hand over your shoulders and lean into his side. The position is awkward to walk in, but you're willing to deal with it to be close to the American. Your labrador barks a warning at your boyfriend, tugging at the harness in your hand until he pets her. You shake your head and laugh at your pet's possessiveness.

The question as to why Alfred wants you to meet the people who have been his most prominent enemies in the past sticks in your throat upon hearing the faint tone of an excited Italian voice. You quirk your head, turning one of your ears towards the sound in an attempt to gain a better understanding of the situation you're about to enter. The excited Italian voice soothes your taxed nerves despite your hesitance and sounds over the annoyed, deeper German accent who can't get a word in edgewise. A second, rougher Italian voice yells in a foreign language at the German. A Japanese accent quietly strives to hush the growing argument.

“Yo, guys!” Alfred's loud voice silences the tense air better than the Japanese man's words. Your body jerks from Alfred's erratic waving to his friends.

“Ciao, America!”

You smile, the infectious, yellow happiness in the Italian's voice dispelling most of your discomfort.

“You really weren't joking when you mentioned bringing a woman to meet us.”

“Of course I wasn't, dude!” Alfred proudly replies to the Japanese man, tightening his embrace around your shoulders.

You offer a smile in the general direction of the voices, awkwardly introducing yourself to the nations. The four respond in kind, giving you their human names and surprising you when you realize that both Italian voices are considered two halves of the Italian nation.

“Your dog is very pretty, bella. May I pet her?”

Alfred releases your shoulders, stepping away just enough that his hand brushes against yours when you sway to your left. You giggle, reaching down and scratching behind your dog's ear. She tilts her head towards your hand, but her ears stay alert.

“Any other time, I would say yes, but she's on the job. It's not really a good idea to bother her right now, especially when she doesn't know you,” you softly explain.

“On the job?”

“She's blind, idiota!” Romano, the older of the Italian brothers, snaps, startling not only you but your dog into growling. He grunts in annoyance, the metal squeaking under him as he readjusts his weight. Silence follows Romano's exclamation. You wait, allowing the stunning implications to settle before raising your head and grinning. Your skin tingles under their curious gazes focusing on your cloudy eyes.

“I apologize for our rudeness,” Japan says, and the picture of a faceless Asian man bowing flashes through your thoughts. Snickering, you assure the quiet nation no harm's been done. A shiver from the chill in the air visibly runs through your shoulders, spurring your boyfriend into action.

“Oi, maybe we should move this inside, bros. It's kinda chilly out here.” Alfred pulls you to your feet, his arm finding its place around your shoulders again and you gratefully snuggle into his warmth. Noises of agreement meet his suggestion, and he leads you towards what you gather to be a building.

“So they'll let you bring your dog inside?” Veneziano questions not far from you. You nod, gripping your pet's harness a bit tighter. “That's so cool! You never have to leave her, huh? I bet she appreciates that.”

“Being blind is not cool, dumpkoff,” Germany scolds.

“Oh, it's alright. I understand what he means.” The German grunts, but remains quiet, allowing the joyful Italian to continue rambling. The lingering smells of food, body odor and disinfectants accumulate into an almost nauseating mixture, but with a simple movement, Alfred's intoxicating smell disperses the amalgamation. The restaurant's warmth battles the autumn chill in your bones even while you rub at your goosebump riddled arms beneath your jacket. The greeter immediately notices your pet and (rather snidely) explains pets aren't allowed inside. She splutters when Alfred informs her the labrador is a seeing-eye dog and is legally allowed to be in any establishment, but shows your group to a table with little resistance.

Much to your comfort, the meeting with the Axis nations resembles your meeting with Alfred's allies some few months before. The awkward air lasts longer than it did with the Allied nations, but Veneziano's bubbly personality lightens the tension and offers everyone the ability to laugh and talk as if they were normal people having a quaint meal together. Only the waitress casts a pall over the otherwise enjoyable dinner, acting just as snide and uncaring as the greeter. After a particularly rude remark indirectly directed towards you, Alfred slams his hands on the table. Your labrador barks in response, standing and growling at your knee. The shocked waitress stumbles into a passing waiter, sending glasses and plates crashing to the floor. You wince at the exceptionally loud noise, leaning down and whispering in your dog's ear to calm her down.

The ruckus catches the attention of the shift manager. Alfred complains to the woman about your waitress, detailing every action and word in the time you've been in the restaurant. Your face feels as if it's on fire, your fingers intertwine with your dog's fur as a sort of anchor in your roiling embarrassment. Your body jerks at the feeling of a foreign warmth slipping into your hand. As Germany stands and enters the argument after the girl tries to defend herself, Veneziano runs his knuckles over yours.

“Don't listen to her, bella. She's just jealous.”

The forced smile plasters on your lips before you can stop it. Veneziano pauses in his stroking, and you know he can see right through you. You sigh, the smile fades and you shake your head, shrugging.

“What can I say? I'm the blind girl who tends to cause problems for others. I'm used to stuff like this happening.”

“That's bullshit.” Romano's rougher voice comes from behind his brother. You raise an eyebrow, lifting your non-existent gaze. “You shouldn't be used to shit like this happening. That girl's attitude sucks and she needs to realize how lucky she is before acting that way.”

Astonished, your mouth parts though no words escape. Veneziano chuckles and pats the back of your hand. You didn't expect them to be so kind when you were on your way to meet them, but you're glad it turned out differently than you originally thought, even with the rude remarks from the waitress. The girl's about in tears on the receiving end of Alfred and Germany's anger over her treatment of you.

“Do not pay attention to her. She doesn't know what she is talking about,” Japan's hushed voice further reassures your stretched nerves. “Just because you can't see doesn't make you any less of a person.”

The manager's profuse apologies crescendo over their assurances, offering Alfred gift cards and free meals to appease his outrage. The American crosses his arms and taps his foot, before acceding and telling the manager the waitress needs to be reprimanded. The manager quickly agrees, saying she'll speak to the waitress immediately.

“Alfred, it's alright.” Your even voice catches your boyfriend's attention. Alfred sighs, but retakes his seat next to you, ruffling your hair and chuckling.

“Seems like my girl isn't upset, so you're off the hook for now. Be nicer from now on, ya hear?”

The waitress stammers gibberish until the manager drags her away, more than like to berate her in the kitchen. You reach to your left, your fingers skimming across Alfred's jacket as you find his arm and travel down it to entwine your fingers with his. He squeezes your hand, bringing it up to his lips and gently pressing a kiss to your palm. Veneziano claps his hands, stating something in his native language about the show of affection. You blush, but smile nonetheless as Germany berates him and Alfred steals a quick kiss during the distraction.

Some days are harder than others, there's no doubt about that. Misunderstandings arise more times than you can count, but none of them count by the end of the day. The only one whose opinion matters won't leave your side until he knows your well-being is safe. Alfred leads you from the restaurant sometime later after saying your goodbyes, puts your labrador on her leash, and takes her spot as your guide while allowing her to have a bit of freedom. His arm wraps around your waist and draws you against his body, nuzzling his nose against your ear and kissing your neck. You flinch, laughing at the tickling sensation, and playfully nudge your elbow into his ribs. No matter how many rude people you come across, your loving boyfriend more than makes up for every single one.