You shall notice that Germany sighs a lot.

-GreyDawn55 :D

Germany sighed. It had been an hour since Italy had visited. That was a long time, expecially since Italy visited him every second. Maybe I should check up on him, Germany thought, yeah, I'll do that.

Germany walked over to where Italy's bedroom was.

When he opened the door, Italy was in his bed, coughing, panting, and looking very feverish.

"Uhm…Italy, are you okay?"

Italy looked up at Germany and smiled. "GERMANY! I'M DELERIOUS! PASTAAAA!" Germany sighed. "I'll be right back, okay?" Italy smiled and coughed. "After this, can we play football?"

"…Italy, it's raining outside and you're sick."

"But I want to play football!"

"No, Italy…I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay!"

A few minutes later, Germany came back with a wet, cold, washcloth. He placed it on Italy's head. Italy shuddered at the touch of the washcloth.

"Germany?"

"Yeah?"

"…Can you make me pasta?"

Germany sighed. "Sure," he said. "I'll be right back." Italy frowned. "Don't leave me." Germany sighed. "You mean you want me to make you pasta right in front of you?" Italy coughed. "Just don't leave me," Italy murmured before entering a coughing fit.

Germany smiled and pulled up a near-by chair to sit next to Italy's bedside.

Italy looked up at Germany, his eyes closed like they always were. "Germany…?" he muttered. "Yes?"

Italy grinned. "PASTAAAA!"

Germany sighed. "You really are sick, aren't you?" he said, shaking his head. Italy then began to shake and even cry a little.

One hour later…

Germany cautiously came into Italy's room. Italy looked worse-he was very pale. Germany sat in the chair near Italy's bed and presented a bowl of pasta he had made for him.

Germany winced. Poor Italy. He was barely conscious. He couldn't even eat pasta now, let alone talk.

One day later…

Italy's breathing had become shallow and he spent less and less time shouting out random phrases.

Germany, on the verge of tears, buried his head in his hands. "Italy…" he murmured.

Suddenly, Italy's breathing ceased. Germany gasped. "I-Italy?" he whispered.

A tear made it's way down his cheeks.

Germany leaned forward and kissed Italy on the lips. "I love you, Italy," he whispered, "I always have."

Suddenly, Italy's eyes shot open. Italy began to breathe again. Germany, unable to contain his joy, kissed Italy over and over. Italy giggled and murmured weakly, "Germany, that tickles." Germany grinned.

A week later-

Italy had gotten much better. He was at the point where he could eat, talk, sit up in bed, and even sing.

"I love you, Italy," Germany said for the hundredth time that day. Italy smiled. "I love you too, Germany. Tomarrow, let's have a PASTA PARTY!" Germany laughed.

"Okay."

End. I don't care if it's gay. It's beautiful. *bawls eyes out*