Hetalia: Italy annoys Germany

The sun was high and it was mid-afternoon. Germany sat on a bench, reading his favorite book. It was quiet that day. And for once in a long while, he was away from Italy. He had purposely put Italy into hard training that day to get away from him. Germany knew it would be a long time before Italy finished his training. But he also knew that Italy probably skipped out on his training like he usually did. He wasn't sure which, but he also didn't care at that moment. He was lost in his book and didn't noticed a certain annoying Italian walking up to meet him. He sat down next to Germany. Germany looked up slightly and saw Italy, humming and moving his head to invisible music rhythm. Germany sighed in annoyance. Not Italy. Anybody but Italy. Germany tried to continue his reading, but the noisy Italian started tapping his hand that was resting on his knee. His annoying, squealing voice made Germany lose his concentration.

"Hey,hey, Germany?" Italy smiled, oblivious that he was disturbing Germany, "What are you doing? Can we go play football, can we!?" Germany looked at his friend. He wasn't sure why Italy was asking to play football.

"Nein, I'm readink." He told the happy Italian. Italy started tapping his hand faster and he grew more annoying to Germany.

"But it's soo pretty outside! Let's go play football!" Italy insisted in his usual excited voice. Germany stared at Italy. Why couldn't he ever leave him alone? Italy started playing with Germany's free hand, patting it up and down between his hands. The sound of hands clapping together could be heard as Italy started being more and more annoying.

"Hey, Germany. Play football, Germany. Hey, football, Germany. Germany, football." He said in an high-pitched voice. He poked two of his fingers at Germany's hand. Annoyed and frustrated, Germany rose to his feet. He glared down at Italy and shouted, "Are you vanting me to gas you!?"

Italy chuckled nervously as the German looked like he was going to strangle him. Germany sighed and put a hand over his face.

"Did you finish your trainink?" He asked.

"Um, no..." Italy said, looking away. Germany felt as if the world landed on his shoulders. He should have known. In fact, he did know. Italy never finished his training. It would be a miracle if he did, but Germany knew he would never do that. He put his book away and sighed again.

"Please tell me he didn't play with 'Pookie'" He said to himself. Italy smiled.

"I was busy playing with Pookie." He said. Germany slapped his face. Italy was absolutely hopeless. He glared at the Italian.

"Und you thought it vas okay to skip trainink?!" He said. Italy looked away, ashamed.

"I- I couldn't do it. I was tired." He said.

"You're alvays tired!" Germany said. He walked away a few steps, then he turned back at Italy, "You're goink to run five laps around ze neighborhood! Und you're not going to stop unless I say so! Now run!" He said. Italy stared at him.

"'Five laps'? All of that? But it's so hard!" Italy whined. Germany grabbed his shirt, forced him to his feet, and kicked Italy to move. Italy moved, but he was dragging his feet.

"Italy..." He heard Germany growl. Then Germany had an idea and he pretended to look worried, "Oh, no! It's ze British troops!" Just like magic, Italy ran faster, and baby, did he run! A trail of dust flew in the air as he kicked the dirt running. Germany smiled, pleased with himself.

End