It was the sun which woke Germany up by tickling his nose. He slowly opened the eyes for taking a look at his alarm clock – still five more minutes until he had to get up. Not bad.
This meant that he could spent five more minutes in his comfortable bed under the warm blanket with this warm thingy at his side…
Hold it! Warm thingy?
What the heck…?

In an instant Germany sat straight in his bed and looked at the “warm thingy” besides him. And, oh wonder, it was Italy, coiling up like a cat, missing his source of warmth. He sighed. Why did Italy come over to his bed again? Last night he had said he couldn’t sleep properly, the night before he had told Germany that he had been scared because he had watched some horror films with America and the night before that, he claimed that the heating in his room was broken and it was too cold for sleeping.

At least he wore some boxers and a T-Shirt. Maybe Germany giving Italy a tongue-lashing yesterday worked in some way.
“Italy. Come on, Italy, wake up already.” He nearly whispered and softly touched the boy’s shoulder. But Italy, however, just purred contentedly and robbed a bit nearer to Germany, grabbing for his hip.

The blonde’s breath stopped for a moment and he had to swallow, before he was able to free himself of Italy’s grip and to stand up. He had decided to let Italy sleep longer, at least until he had taken a shower.
So he went to his wardrobe, getting his clothes for today and then left the bedroom, heading for the bathroom.

He stood under the shower, letting the hot water patter on his skin. He took a deep breath; the steam filled his lungs.
With his eyes closed he enjoyed the silence in his house in the morning. In the other daytimes Italy ran around singing and shouting like there was no tomorrow. And even thinking of it gave Germany the feeling that he could hear Italy’s voice crying out his name.
“Germany! Germanyyy!”
Oh no!

Germany opened his eyes abruptly when he noticed the voice didn’t just come from his imagination but from the corridor.
“Germany!” Italy called once again and then he threw open the door, running inside.
“What’s the matter, Italy? Can’t it wait until I’m done?” He was definitely pissed. However, Italy didn’t seem to care but said happily: “Ah, here you are! I was a bit worried when I woke up and didn’t found you next to me in your bed.”
“Yes” Germany said, turning off the water and taking his towel from the hook – he was done anyways. “My bed”, he continued roughly, glaring at Italy who just looked back at the blond, awaiting what was going to happen next.

Germany sighed and asked: “What did you do in there again anyway? I thought I told you yesterday that at least in some nights I want to sleep on my own.”
“But I wore clothes”, mumbled Italy. Germany just patted his head with a capitulating smile on his lips and then said: “I know, Italy, I know, I just mean that…” Oh it made no sense at all! He could ask Italy for the reason again and again but he would always tell him a stupid lie and just as well he could tell him every day to not come to his bed anymore but in the morning Italy would lie next to him again, grabbing for his chest or belly or hip or whatsoever.
“Never mind.” He shook his head and then asked: “You want to have breakfast together?”
Italy’s face brightened up immediately and he nodded happily.
“Then just go ahead to the kitchen, I’ll be right there when I’m dressed.”
“Bene!” And so Italy rushed out of the door again.

When Germany entered the kitchen he found Italy sitting at the table, holding a cup in his hands.
“Don’t tell me that you made coffee…” Germany groaned and went to the refrigerator for taking the milk out of it. He glanced at Italy and found him sticking his tongue out at him, now a roll with Nutella in his hand.
“You know that I can’t drink this dirty hot water you call ‘coffee’.”
Germany ignored this statement and went to the cupboard for taking the cornflakes, too.

He also got a cup, two spoons – a big one for the cornflakes and a little one for the coffee – the sugar and a small bowl. Then he sat down vis-à-vis with Italy. Meanwhile the brunette had finished off his Nutella-roll and sipped at his cup of coffee.
He observed Germany and somehow looked a bit guilty.
When Germany ate some of his Cornflakes and he had enough of Italy watching him, he asked: “What’s the matter with you lately? You’re acting just weird!”
The blond took a sip of his Italian coffee, he would have called it a doubled espresso but he drank it nonetheless – although he had mixed it up with lots of milk and sugar.
“It’s nothing wrong, Germany, really!” He replied fast, too fast for his answer to be true.
“Don’t lie to me, Italy; you know I don’t like that.”

Italy lowered his face.
What was just wrong with that boy?
Germany laid his spoon down and looked a bit worried to Italy. Seeing Italy so depressed gave him a bad feeling which made him go angry. “Italy! What the hell’s wrong with you? Tell me now!”
“P-… please don’t yell at me, Germany…” Italy mumbled but Germany was in rage so he simply went on: “Damn it! You should know that you can trust me! What’s going on with you? Italy, I’m worried!”

“Shut up!” Italy burst out.
Germany looked at him rather shocked with his mouth open.
“I don’t want to talk about it! I don’t even want to think about it, so stop asking me. Just stop it…” His voice lowered and a bit throaty he added: “Please.”
Germany looked at him for some seconds.
The brunette didn’t seem to dare look at him and fidget with the border of his T-Shirt. Then Germany started eating again, after saying: “Sorry. I didn’t want to put you under pressure. I was just worried.”

Then there was silence.
This awkward silence when anyone should say anything, but no one did.
Germany had finished his breakfast and reached for the newspaper, when he recognized, that he forgot to take it in because of all the chaos this morning.
So he stood up, but Italy caught his wrist, looking up on him with his big, brown doe eyes.
“What’s the matter now?”
“Where are you going?”
“Getting the newspaper. Is anything wrong with this?” Germany asked bewildered, feeling how Italy hardened his grip.
“No, it’s okay”, he replied. But Germany didn’t go – even if Italy had let go of him.
“Oh Italy, you really are something…” He sat down on the bench next to Italy and stroke through his brown hair.
“You want some more coffee?” Italy asked with an unsure smile on his lips. Germany patted him on the back of his head and said: “Definitely not. Otherwise I’ll get a shock of caffeine, you know?”
He went on with stroking Italy’s head, until the brunette leaned it towards Germany’s shoulder and sighed sadly.

They couldn’t go on sitting together like this for very long, because Germany had a meeting with France and he couldn’t afford to be late.
“Will you be back for supper?” Italy asked, leaning in the doorway, while Germany searched his things together.
“Oh…” Germany looked up and thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. Maybe I can eat something at France’s house.” It was kind of scary how Italy stood there, the arms crossed in front of his chest, watching him. What had happened to his lively, energetic Italy?

“Okay, I have to go now. Hope my house is still standing, when I’m coming back.” He laughed gently and then gave Italy a swift kiss on his lips, when he went outside the house.
But Italy, just as if he had waited the whole morning for a chance like this, laid his hands into Germany’s neck and pulled him back down to him, for kissing him passionately.
Germany didn’t exactly know what happened, but suddenly he had the strange feeling, that he shouldn’t go to France right now; that it might be a mistake.
But it didn’t help. He had to go and if he didn’t hurry up, he’d be late.

“Well, good morning, France…” Germany was a bit nervous. “Sorry, for my delay, but I had some trouble this morning…” Or better to say: Italy had some trouble the last couple of days.
“You’re late? The super exact Germany is late? Is something wrong? Did your house burn down?” France lifted his eyebrow, but Germany avoided his look, preferred to ask: “Can I come in, please?”
“Bien sûr. Come in, come in. Just follow me inside the living room. Please, sit down.” France had pulled him inside and now pushed him into the couch. Since when was France so worried about him? Had they not been hereditary enemies for a long time?
What was going on to everyone this morning? Germany didn’t understand anything anymore.
“Can I offer you something? Coffee, beer…?”
“Beer in the morning? No thank you, not today. And I had enough coffee for this day, Italy made it this morning.” He sighed when he thought about him. Italy had never before acted so strange… or normal… well, it seemed, as if for Italy, normal was strange and the other way round.
“So Italy is staying over at your house?” France’s words ripped him out of his thoughts and he replied: “Yes, the last few days and he’s acting really strange. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and he refuses to tell.”
“Well” France thought for a moment and then went on talking: “I have to admit that he really sounded a bit bizarre when he called me yesterday.”
Germany didn’t answer. Why did Italy call France yesterday? Was there something going very wrong with him?
“You okay?” France asked. Germany exhaled heavily and shook his head for getting those strange thoughts out of it.
“Ja”, he said. “I think so.” He paused for a while and then asked: “Well, France?”
“Oui?”
“Can I eat with you this noon?”
“Oh… yes, of course, no problem.”
At least this problem was solved. So they could concentrate on the work now… But with someone like France this wasn’t too easy.
He always came up with strange comments so that Germany was kind of happy, when it was time for supper.
France didn’t seem very pleased with his manners, but Germany didn’t care at all at this rate. His thoughts were back home with Italy. He wondered what he was doing now… Maybe he ate something, just like them?

So this evening Germany was very glad when he opened the door with his keys and he could sound some Opera-Arias coming from Italy’s Atelier. Yes, he insisted on having an Atelier when he would be more often in Germany’s house.
So the blonde went there and looked warily inside.
Italy stood in front of his easel, on it a canvas, drawing something.
“Hey Italy, I’m home.” He said.
“Oh, Germany?” He turned around, the brush still in his hand. “You’re back this early? Scusi, I didn’t prepared dinner yet. Are you hungry? Should I go and cook something?”
Germany was pleased, when he saw everything was alright. So he turned and said, while going away: “No, it’s okay, we’ll just have a light evening meal. Just bread and cheese and stuff.”
Italy had got ridden of his skirt and had laid down the brushes for following Germany through the corridor. He caught up with him, when they were right in front of the kitchen. So he stepped in next to Germany and said: “I really could cook something, it’s no big deal.”
Italy didn’t wait until Germany answered him, but just rushed to the cupboard for getting the pots.
“I really don’t want to eat something heavy now, Italy. France’s meal this noon was enough so stop putting water into the pot!” He became angry because Italy was really getting on his nerves right now.
“But I…” Italy tried to say, but Germany interrupted him roughly: “Sei still! I said, that I don’t want to eat warm now, basta!”
Italy looked at him, seemed to be a bit frightened and also hurt, but Germany didn’t care for now. He only had himself to blame.
The blond didn’t move, just as Italy. They stared at each other until Italy said very hushed, looking at the ground: “But I didn’t eat something today, except for the breakfast.”
“Dummkopf!” Germany gnashed his teeth in anger. Why was Italy not able to do anything when he was not around?
“I was just inside my drawing so that I forgot the time and everything. I needed a distraction. So don’t blame me. But I’ll cook now. And I’ll do Pasta. If you want to, you can eat with me, if not… fine.” He seemed to be offended.
So Germany sat down, watched Italy’s back for a short while and then said: “Well, it’s not worth cooking for a single person, so do some for me, too.”
“Bene.”

They remained silent for the rest of the time until they were done with eating. Italy still had some wine in his glass and Germany wasn’t done with his beer, too. They didn’t look at each other for the whole dinner.
“France told me, that you had called him yesterday?” Germany broke the silence and took a sip of his beer.
“Sì. I did so. Is something wrong with it?” Italy still didn’t honour him with one gaze. But Germany went on talking: “No, not at all. I’m just wondering why you’re talking to him, when you could also talk to me all day.”
“All day?” Italy jumped up. “You’re gone all day! And that every single damn day!”
“Was?” Germany looked at him with bewilderment in his face. “I’m always there for you! You even want to share a bed and because I don’t want to, you’re sneaking under my cover each night!”
Italy bristled with anger, when he said: “I’m just coming to you at nights because it’s the only time when you’re calm and cuddly.”
“Oh great. So you want me to cuddle with you all day and be quiet?” He was damn furious. Italy really overdid it now. However, he didn’t just shut up, but clenched his fists and whispered: “No, that’s not the point.”
“But then what’s the point, Feliciano? Tell me, because obviously I’m too stupid to get it myself.”
“Silenzio! You’re not too stupid, Ludwig, and I never insisted to say something like this. The only problem is, that you never let me finish my sentences!”
They had drunken a bit too much. Otherwise they would never have heated up so much. But Germany sat down again, put his front in his hands and tried to cool down, when he said: “So then, finish your sentence.”
“You’re doing it again!” Italy shouted, but Germany just gave him a wrathfully look, so he went on: “Fine. So I’ll tell you, what’s wrong: First of all, you’re gone all day, you work hard for bring in the money, but don’t you think, you’re overdoing it? At least I think so, because you have zero time left for me. And then, when you have time you’re always annoyed or angry or something. Like when we played football, you remember that day? I beat you and you couldn’t stand it, so that you insinuated cheating to me and you swore to God, that you wouldn’t ever eat Pasta or Pizza again. And you’re meeting other countries. I even think, that America is more important to you than I am. Oh Germany, I can’t stand it anymore. And because of this I’m coming to you every night. Just because I want to be with you. And when you’re asleep you only belong to me. Not to other countries, not to your work and not to your pride! Just to me and only to me. And that’s the only time when I don’t have to share you.”
While Italy spoke, Germany had finished off his beer. He had listened carefully to Italy and he did notice that the little brunette had lost his wind. But he didn’t reply. He simply stood up again, took the tableware and brought them to the sink for doing the dishes.
Italy remained standing, didn’t say one more word, until Germany said quietly: “You should go to bed now, it’s already late. Gute Nacht, schlaf gut.”
“Buonanotte.” Italy whispered and Germany could hear how he went out of the kitchen.

Germany had to think about what Italy just said.
He was right.
Germany really worked very long lately and he really was unfair when it came to the footballgame – although he still was the better footballer – and even the thing about him and America. Maybe he really worried a bit too much about what America thought of him.
And when he came to think of it, as long as Italy wore at least some clothes it wasn’t too bad to share his bed with Italy. Far from it!
It was kind of nice having someone next to him, when he woke up.

He laid in his bed for some time now and was slumbering peacefully, when he felt something unusual. He didn’t sleep for too long, because otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed it, but yet he opened his eyes and knew now, that it was Italy climbing on his bed and now lifting his cover a bit, crawling towards Germany, reaching for his arm.
Germany, however, pulled the brunette in his arms and kissed him swiftly on his forehead.
“You’re right, Italy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay”, he replied and cuddled up to Germany.