Title: Summer
Author: LetTheWordsFlow
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Germany/Italy
Summary: Germany thinks Italy's summer is beautiful. Italy thinks Germany's eyes are more beautiful.
Info: Moar 'Eyes'! This is old…really old. Like, I think I wrote it last decade. That's how old it was.

Italy knows that if he opens his eyes he will see the blue sky above him stretching as far as the eye can see. He will see the green grass surrounding him, waving in the gentle breeze, and the blue stream at the bottom of the bank they are sitting on. He knows that he will see the white clouds which are dusted across the sky, and the people in the distance. But he does not open his eyes. Instead he feels. He feels the way the breeze tickles his skin deliciously, the way the grass rubs against his legs. Mostly, he feels the way Germany's strong arms are wrapped around him, the way he feels leaning against his side. He listens to the chattering of the brook, the distant sounds of people far away, the breeze falling through the grass, the slow ruffle as the pages turn, the measured breaths in and out. Eyes still closed, he turns his head so he faces Germany. He presses a soft kiss into his neck, and another. He looks up, opening his eyes to look into Germany's, bluer than the sky could ever be. You could lose yourself so easily and them, and Italy does, staring into the orbs that stare back at him, suffused with love and trust. His mouth opens, but Italy doesn't want the peace to break so he presses his lips to Germany's, silencing him. The kiss is soft, whisper-light, and he pulls away to look at his eyes again. He leans forward, kissing his cheeks, and then back to his lips. When he pulls away this time, Germany follows him, unwilling to let him go. Italy giggles at this, and Germany leans backwards again, a light blush dusting his face. 'It's fine,' Italy whispers, 'you can kiss me if you want'. Germany does, but gives this one to his forehead, making Italy smile. He hides his face in the blonde's neck, smiling against the skin. He feels Germany's hands move around him, and then his voice, rumbling through his chest. 'It's getting late; we should head back to the hotel if we wish to pack this evening.'
'Let's at least watch the sunset,' Italy says, and Germany agrees, though unwillingly, Italy can tell. Italy wonders vaguely how often this happens, that his boyfriend would give up something for Italy's happiness. Sometimes he feels bad, but whenever he voices this Germany says stiffly that it's fine, and he doesn't mind, too much. They lean back against the tree, one of Germany's arms wrapping around Italy again, and Italy snuggling against him again. When the breeze steals through the trees, and Italy shivers, Germany mentions again going back to the hotel, and this time Italy agrees. He'll watch the sunset through the window. They return to the hotel, hands linked, arms pressed against each other. The lady at the desk smiles as she gives them their key, and asks if they are going to eat in the restaurant. Germany looks at Italy, asking if he wants to. Italy nods in the affirmative and they make the reservation, before returning to the room. Italy sprawls onto the bed, sighing. Germany laughs lightly ask asks, 'You can't possibly be tired?'
Italy shakes his head. 'I'm just enjoying it.'

Germany looks at him for a few seconds, presses a kiss to his forehead and then asks, if it's not too much trouble, could he please pack his bags? Once upon a time Italy would have asked Germany to do it for him, but now he feels that they should be equal, and guilt gnaws his side every time Germany has to clear up after him, so he rolls off the bed and starts to pack.

Eventually all of Italy's clothes are back in his bag (how did they manage to get everywhere?) and he sprawls onto the bed, really tired this time. Germany sits on the side and Italy pulls him down to a lazy kiss. Germany makes a brief noise of protest but it's dispelled pretty quickly. Germany rolls back and they lie on the bed together, watching the sun fall. Eventually it's time for dinner, and they go downstairs. Italy orders, this being both his language and his food, and dinner is spent in a quiet peace, Italy too absorbed with eating to talk, and Germany content as always to just stay silent. As soon as he's finished eating however, Italy is back talking at a skyrocket pace, chattering about Venice and how beautiful it is, and how much Germany will enjoy it, and how much he's looking forward to going home (although technically their capital is Rome as a united country, Italy feels his heart will always be Venice), and Germany merely listens and nods, knowing that his attention is good enough for the bubbly Italian. After dinner, they return to the room and sitting on the porch, they take in the view. Without any warning, Germany suddenly speaks, his low rumbling voice surprising his boyfriend. "Your country is beautiful. You are beautiful." Italy smiles. "Thank you," he says, the compliment meaning more to him than he lets on. They return inside, Italy changes quickly and jumps into their bed, Germany, more modest, slides into the bathroom to change before joining Italy. The air is still warm and so Italy kicks back the covers and slides under the sheets. Germany puts his arm around Italy's shoulders, and when Italy sits up suddenly, switches on the TV and soon becomes engrossed in some Italian chat show, Germany's hands slide to his waist. When the show finishes and Italy looks back, he notices that Germany's eyes have shut, and he can hear Germany's quiet breathing as he sleeps. Italy thinks to himself how cute Germany looks in his sleep and how much he loves him, and, ever impulsive, leans down to plant a quick kiss to his forehead. Germany awakens and makes to sit up, the apology already tripping out from his tongue, but Italy silences him with a kiss and stills him with a hand on his chest. He wriggles into Germany's arms and whispers good night in his own language. Germany replies in kind, and they sleep together, peaceful sleep unbroken by pain or the fear of fire. Italy can recall many such nights, but never one he loved as much as this. Germany for his part cannot recall many, but this will stand out to him forever.

The next morning they wake to blue sky and no clouds, and the travel rush sets upon them again. Taxi to the airport, plane to Venice, boat to the nearest way they could find and then walking to Italy's house.

Venice is beautiful. Its houses are beautiful, its palaces are beautiful, its waterways are beautiful. Its people are beautiful, its vibrancy is beautiful. But Italy throws his head back with a smile and a laugh, and thinks that nothing is ever as beautiful as Germany's eyes.

Thanks Dem, for beta-ing this (finally). I will have another chapter of 'Enchanted' up by the end of the week (if this doesn't happen you get hit me on the head with something) and hopefully the next chapter of 'Eyes', and possibly something else. I'm back in school which means less writing but I'll try!