Hey guys! I wrote this because I had an idea, and I was like, *smug look* light bulb….

But anyways, I hope you like it, and chapter 3 on Kiss Me Goodnight will hopefully be coming soon.

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING.

Immature

Italy ran over to Germany with tears in his eyes and threw his arms around him.

"Gaah! What is going on?"

"Germany, I tried to give Romano a hug and he kicked me and I landed on the floor, and I think I broke something, and now—"

"Gott, shut up! You're rambling. Calm down. I'll deal with Romano later, but for now you need to lie down or something. Just rest your ass so we don't have to go to the doctor for it. I can't imagine, going to the doctor with an Italian who broke his ass."

"O-okay…" Said Italy, wiping tears from his eyes. That fall must've seriously hurt. Damn you, Romano…

0000

"Why do you have to act like such a child?"

"I-I don't know. I guess it's the only way I can remember Holy-" He couldn't finish his sentence before the tears reached his eyes.

"Holy… Rome?"

"Oh, god, please don't say that name."

"Why is it such a big deal? It's just Holy Rome."

"Please, Germany! Just- just stop saying his name."

"Why?"

"Because… I lost him in the war. Maybe if I was more persuasive, I could've stopped him from going."

"You can't stop anyone from going to war. The only person who can stop them is themselves."

"Did anyone try to stop you, Germany?"

"I don't think so. The only people who tried were only whispering, "Don't go, don't go," to themselves."

"I miss him, Germany. I miss looking into his eyes. They were the bluest things I've ever seen. Bluer than yours, but I'm sure they lightened with age, just like yours… probably… did…"

"What are you thinking?"

"I guarantee I could tell him from others by his eyes." Italy said, while looking curiously at Germany.

"Italy, I'm not Holy Rome. If he couldn't last through the war, then he shouldn't have gone."

Italy looked completely offended. "Germany, I'm sure he fought with all of his might. The last memory we had of each other was our kiss. Isn't love something to fight for?"

"Yes. Love is certainly something to fight for."

"Did you ever fight for love?"

"Maybe."

"What do you mean?"

"I fought my hardest in the war. Even when I was about to possibly lose an arm or leg, I still fought. I could've given up, but I didn't. I don't know why, but I didn't stop. Maybe it was destiny. Destiny that I wouldn't stop fighting. Destiny, that I met you."

"A-are you saying that you love me?"

"Possibly, or possibly not. I'm not sure."

"…How am I like a child, Germany?"

"Oh, well, let's see, you ask way too many questions, like a child, and you won't shut up, like a child."

"So?"

"Ok, well, you also won't go to sleep without a hug, and you always run crying to me when something's wrong, so in conclusion, you act like a child, and I know that Holy Rome isn't the only reason you do these things, so what is the reason?"

"…It's because… I love you." He said, silently and sheepishly.

"Hm? I didn't hear that."

"I-I said that I love you…"

"You what? You love me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Germany."

"Don't be. You can't help your feelings. Bottling them up isn't good for you."

"I know." Italy was embarrassed, and was afraid of Germany rejecting him. He looked down, closed his eyes, and prepared for those paining words.

"I've heard that people die of a broken heart, and I certainly don't want you to die, so I guess I love you too."

Those words were the exact opposite of what he was preparing to hear. He jumped into Germany's arms and hugged him tight.

"Do you mean it? Do you really mean it? You aren't just saying that so I'm not hurt, right?"

Germany thought that he would have to think about his answer, but really, it came very easily to him. With no difficulty, he replied, "Absolutely."

This only made Italy hug him tighter, and also, give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Germany looked confused, embarrassed, upset, and happy all at the same time. Italy, on the other hand, was overjoyed. His smile stretched ear to ear.

Then, he woke up. It was just a dream? His eyes were watery, and the tears began to pour from his eyes. Why do all the nicest things have to be in dreams? That's when he noticed that Germany was asleep next to him. He threw himself at the sleeping German, crying, and practically soaking the back of his shirt.

"Whoa! What's happening?"

"I had a dream, and it was a lovely dream for a while, and you loved me and I loved you, but then I woke up and it wasn't real and that's why I'm crying!"

"Gott. That was real, you idiot! You were so tired, that I guess you passed out, so I carried you to my room, and I put you in bed. Then I got in myself, and went to sleep."

"Oh. So you do love me?"

"Yes! Now go to bed, please."

"Okay." The Italian went to bed attached to an annoyed and tired Germany.

Romano snuck quietly (VERY, VERY, VERY quietly) through a window in Germany's kitchen. He walked into the German's bedroom, obviously looking for Italy. All of this involved the earlier events…

"Hey Spain."

"Hey Romano. I saw what you did to your brother."

"Oh, um, you did?"

"Yes. I didn't think that it was very nice, honestly."

"You didn't?"

"No. You should apologize."

"Why should I do that? It was his fault. I shouldn't apologize unless it's my fault, and if anyone should apologize, it's my dumbass brother."

"Alright, but I'm just saying."

"… Dammit. I'm gonna have to apologize, aren't I?"

"You bet you are."

Romano cringed.

"Damn it, Spain, why are you always so persuasive?—OH MY GOD."

"Germany, quit shining that flashlight in my eyes. It burns." Italy said tiredly, eyes still closed.

"I'm not shining anything in your face, Italy."

"Then who is it?"

"I don't know. Let me go and check." Germany got up and looked around.

"Do you know what it is?"

"No."

"Check under the bed."

"God, there you go, acting childish again."

"Just do it!"

"Fine." Germany got down and looked under the bed, only to find Romano hiding with a flashlight.

"Oh my god!"

"Verdammt! Italy it's your brother."

"What? How did he get in here without you hearing?"

"I was tired! What, am I supposed to wake at the sound of dust falling to the carpet?"

"Maaaaybe."

"Grr. What do you want, breaking into my house, anyways?"

"I came to say sorry to Italy."

"You're saying sorry? Wow, what did Spain do this time?"

"Nothing. He just talked to me, that's all."

"Oh. You sure?"

"Shut up! I came to say sorry, so I will just do so and be on my way… Sorry." He said, and left out the window.

"…Germany, what happened?"

"I don't know, but your childish ways come in handy sometimes… Let's go back to bed. Scream if France sneaks in and tries to molest you."

"Why would he do that?"

"He's France. Why do you think?"

"Oh well. You'll protect me, right, Germany?"

"Always. Now go to bed."

"Okay." Italy snuggled into Germany's chest.

"Ti amo, Germany."

"Please, don't go Italian while I'm this tired. I'm too sleepy to pay attention."

"Germany! I said I love you!"

"Oh, well then just say that."

"Alright. I love you Germany."

"I didn't mean right now, but since you said it, I love you too."

Italy smiled. It was nice to be like this, against the person you love the most, sharing pillows, and not getting yelled at. He closed his eyes and prepared to rest.

"Germany?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever leave me."

"I won't."

"Good. I love you too much to lose you."

So there it is guys! Ending's a bit cheesy, but I was tired, I had a writer's cramp, and my dad was yelling at me to get off. Sorry for a possibly OOC Spain. I tried Wikipedia, so I hope it helped.

I was listening to music while I was typing this, and German Sparkle Party came on in the middle of writing this. 0_0

R&R please!

-Hollow Phoenix