A/N: My first APH multi-chapter! :3 I'm excited. I hope you guys enjoy it.

The only way out
Is letting your guard down and never die
Forgotten (I know)
Forgive me, my love
I stand here all alone
And I can see the bottom.- "You", Breaking Benjamin

Italy hummed happily under his breath as he left the busy streets of the city's center behind him. He carried a bunch of ingredients for sweets and pasta in a bag, although the combination of the two seemed odd. Peeking quickly into each bag, Italy made sure he had all the ingredients right. He nodded to himself when everything was right, turning a sharp street corner.

Noticing the familiar slant of houses along this street, he knew he was close to his destination. He hadn't been to Ludwig's house for quite a while – Romano had been quite stubborn on this subject. And so, Italy was going to have a feast ready for Ludwig when he got home. In honour of his long awaited visit.

He grinned, "Ve! Ludwig's going to be so happy!"

He almost stumbled over the gravel road his foot came into contact with, but righted himself and stared happily at the lonely house down the road. When he arrived at his destination, he ran over to the dogs standing guard and patted them on the head twice each. The dogs didn't seem to mind, so used to Italy's presence.

He approached the door, and looked around quickly for any unwanted on-lookers, he then dug a small hole in the ground where he knew Ludwig hid a spare key. He found it with a small victorious cry, unlocking the door and stepping in. Of course, Ludwig's house was as immaculate as it always had been.

He entered the house, shutting the door behind him and entering the kitchen. "So clean..." He muttered, dumping all his ingredients on the counter. Well, he was sure this was going to make a bit of a mess. He would clean it up afterwards as usual, though. Pulling out each ingredient one by one and a pot and pan to match it, he started on his welcome feast.

An hour and a delicious pasta entree later, Italy heard the front door open. He grinned, hopping over to the kitchen entrance. "Italy?" He heard Ludwig's voice call out.

"Ve! Welcome home, Ludwig!" Italy called back, hopping into Germany's view, "But how did you know it was me?"

"No one else would break into my house and start making food," Germany replied, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his boots, "...and you're the only one who knows where I keep the spare key. Of course," He sighed, thinking of the dug up hole, "Tons of other people must know of it now." He'd have to think of another place to put it.

Italy laughed nervously, "Sorry, Ludwig..." But then he smiled, and ran over to the taller man, "Come on, come on! I made a 'Welcome Back, Italy' feast for you!"

Germany didn't question it. Nor did he mind when his hand was grabbed and he was pulled into the kitchen. "Ta-da!" Italy proclaimed, sweeping his hand upwards in a grand motion. Germany's eyes landed on the table, where matching glasses, dishes and silverware laid untouched. Napkins were folded neatly underneath the silverware, and there was a beautiful red center piece in the middle of it all.

"It looks nice, Italy." Germany muttered under his breath, careful not to give the other such obvious praise. But Italy smiled, and Germany was sure he'd heard. A light blush dusted his cheeks, and he took his seat, letting Italy dump spaghetti and meatballs on his plate. Italy also filled his glass with a fine wine, before dishing himself up and settling down.

They enjoyed their meal in silence, Italy making appreciative noises throughout, but otherwise a quiet meal. When they had finished, Germany sat back and eyed Italy carefully.

Swallowing his last bite, Italy smiled, "What is it, Ludwig?"

"I just don't understand why you'd do all of this."
"It's a feast to mark my visiting you often again!"
"Yes, yes, I know but..."
"But?"

Germany gestured to the table, "But why all the fancy matching and neat napkin folding?"

Italy tilted his head to the side, and shook his head, "Silly Ludwig! Can't I just do something nice once in a while?"

Germany didn't answer, and he stood up from the table with another light blush on his cheeks. Italy followed, grabbing up all the dirty dishes and throwing them into the sink. Once he started the water and added the dish soap, he glanced back at a still standing Germany. "You look so tired..." Italy muttered, eyes turning soft, "Go to bed. I'll be finished in a little bit."

Germany nodded, leaving Italy to the dishes. He went into his bathroom, changed quickly and slid into bed. He closed his eyes and knew that within a few minutes, Italy's slim body would be sliding in between the sheets beside him. And within a few minutes, as predicted, Italy slid in beside him. Germany turned to face him, and Italy smiled, snuggling up to Germany's side and getting comfortable.

Germany felt his cheeks heat up, although this was nothing new to him. His eyes slid down and over Italy's face, over his smooth cheekbones, closed eyes and pliant mouth. He looked so happy snuggled up beside him. Was this normal? For Italy to be so happy cuddled up beside him, and he himself strangely happy because of it?

"Ne, Ludwig. You're staring at me."

Germany was pulled from his thoughts, and his eyes focused blearily on the others', "No, I wasn't."

Italy grinned, "Yes you were! I caught you staring at me."
"Sure, sure."

Italy gasped then, a hand flying to his face, "Is it because there's something wrong with me? Is there something on my face?" Germany watched, amused against his will, as Italy began to wipe at his face, his nose crinkled in his concentration.

"Feliciano," Italy froze, knowing that Germany only used his human name on very rare occasions,"...there's nothing on your face." And then Germany's hands were pulling Italy's away from his face.

Italy laughed, "Oh, okay then. So there's nothing wrong with me?"
"No."

Italy snuggled back up against Germany's side, sighing happily, "Good." Italy's warm breath flowed over Germany's neck, making him blush and become just a bit uncomfortable from it all.

"Mmm. Good night, Ludwig."
"...Good night, Italy."

Italy walked down the ever familiar streets and turns, holding more ingredients for another dinner for Germany. Yesterday's dinner had gone so well, so he was determined to make this dinner even better. He'd even gone as far as buying some wurst this time.

Italy smiled, and from the corner of his eye caught sight of a green field. He turned towards it, remembering that it was a shortcut to get to Germany's house. He usually liked to stick to the streets, as he loved to smell the food and see all the people. But this time, maybe taking the shortcut wouldn't be so bad.

Once he entered the field, he laughed. It was so beautiful, filled with flowers and such green grass. He knelt down, picked a flower and tucked it behind his ear. Once he made sure it would stay, he spun in a circle happily, enjoying the cool air around him.

With another happy sigh, he slunk down to the ground, laying in the grass and staring at the sky. It was such a pretty blue, he realized with a brief sense of detachment. He eyed some of the clouds, noting how some of them were shaped like a teddy bear, others a sheep and even one that looked sort of like Prussia's head. Or maybe that was just his overactive imagination.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he'd been staring up at the clouds. All he knew was that it was sunny when he arrived, and now the sun was setting. He suddenly sat up in alarm, quickly getting up and grabbing his dinner ingredients. Germany would almost be home by this point, and he hadn't even started his dinner.

He started off at a run, jogging through the field and coming to a group of trees. He had to go through these trees to get to Germany's house. But just as he started to cross the tree line, an almost sob like noise reached his ear. He jumped, sure he was alone in the field. He turned around, words of surrender on his lips when he saw a little boy, sitting alone in the field.

Italy frowned, walking forward slowly. The boy had his back turned to him, and was hunched over something. The weird sob like noise came again, and Italy's face turned sympathetic.

"H-hey, what are you doing here? Where's your mom and dad?" He started, staring at the boys back as it stiffened at his voice. When he got no answer, Italy tried again, "What's your name?"

The boy turned this time, and the familiarity shot through his heart like a knife. The boy opened his mouth, "My name is Holy Roman Empire."