This is for nickypooh because she has just been BEGGING for a fic about the angry German. So- ffuuu. HERE NICKY. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS.

Ignore the title name. I was going through nailpolishes and couldn't think of anything better.

...does that one said Oral?

Cure to Insomnia

(( A/N: That's actually not nail polish... ))

It was late. Eyes caught the clock.

1:58 AM.

Very late... or just extremely early. Ludwig rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses and tried to keep himself awake. There were still piles among piles of paper work to do, and if he got them all done now, he'd be able to just sleep in and rest for a few hours.

A soft knock came on the door. The German looked up. "Come in,' he simply stated. In walked a young female, maybe in her mid or late twenties. "Ah... Ms. Braun, something I can do for you?"

The girl shook her head. "Sir, it's what I can do for you... you need sleep, Sir."

Ludwig slammed on his desk, rattling a few things, his pencil case being knocked over. "If that is all you came in here for then you may LEAVE," he spat, not all too happy with this topic.

"But sir!" the girl tried to protest against the German's will.

"LEAVE!" his voice grew heavy, angry and dark. He was already in a bad mood from no sleep, and now he was in an even more terrible mood because the topic was brought to conversation. The girl quickly turned and left, leaving the German in silence.

This was a nightmare. He was becomming bitchy and was starting to act like a man without his Snickers. Oh god American food. So bad for you but the chocolate was just so GOOD.

Ludwig shook his head. No eating sweets. None. Oh god Snickers, Milky Ways, Thing-A-Ma-Jigs, Whatcha-ma-call-it- NO!

Ludwig knocked over a stack of papers.

Yay. More stress. Another knock came to the door.

"I told you to leave Ms. Braun!" the German yelled angrily at the door.

It opened up to have a small Italian's head pop in, scared a bit.

"B-but I'm not Ms. Br.. Braaaooon!" the boy said innocently.

Could this night get any worse?

"Italy what are you doing here! You should be in bed!" the German snapped, not realising how PMS-y he really was. The boy flinched at the tone.

"But I can't fall asleep without Germany with me!" the boy seemed to not have noticed the rage within the German's voice and stayed cheery. Cheery as he could ever be, with not a care in the world.

Ludwig envied Feliciano. And it just infuriated him more. Marching over to the small Italian, he grabbed him and threw him over to the desk, the boy shreiking upon contact with the wood. He slid to the floor, shaking and near tears.

"G-Germany wh-what are you doing?" the boy weeped, trying to back up as much as he could.

"Get on the desk." A command. And the Italian knew he couldn't disobey the German's words. Shifting up painfully, the boy sat up onto the desk, shuddering and scared of the German now, not knowing what to expect.

There was a breif moment of silence before the back of the blonde's hand smacked against the Italian's face. Soon enough, the boy was back on the floor.

"Get on the desk."

The boy stood up and st back on the desk. The Italian didn't care he was getting hurt. He only allowed to German to hit him because it was the German hitting him. Another back hand to the face.

To the floor.

"Get on. The desk."

Obey.

Backhanded.

Floor.

This continued for about 12 times, the small Italian's face now red and a little swollen from the slaps, his eyes puffy from crying. The thirteenth time the boy fell to the floor, he stayed there.

"Get on the desk," the German spat, his eyes dark down towards the boy. The Italian didn't move.

"Get. On. The. Desk."

Still.

Silence.

"GET ON THE DESK, ITAL-"

"No!"

There it was again. That silence. They both hated it.

Feliciano was staring up at an angry male, dark bags and circles beneath his eyes, lips pursed to a straight line, fists clenched. His pupils were dialated, eyebros forced down, a slight growl in his throat.

Ludwig was staring down to a frightened, wothrless, pathetic thing that was covered in slap marks and tears running down his cheek. He was being stubborn and not...

The German unclenched his fists; realising what he had been doing. "Italy..." his voice faded as he dropped down to the boy's height, picking him up gently then walking over to the couch and laying him down.

"Go to sleep, Germany," the boy managed to squeak out. The German sighed a bit, looking over at the mess that his desk became then sat on the floor next to the couch, rested against it, closed his eyes and drifted off.

Why was sleep just so... wonderful?

Ohsnap.
Nickypooh.
There.
Happy?
Good.

-E-Y