A/N: Hi. O.O Again.

I have free time all the time now! All the time way past when I should be sleeping, that is!

LOOK MORE ONESHOTS! It's "You like ONESHOTS, huh? Well here's a lot of them! SO MANY! YOU KNOW WHAT, JUST CHOKE ON THEM!" week.

"Feliciano... What the hell?"

It was about three in the morning, and the cheery brunette nation was in the kitchen, loudly banging around pots and pans as he boiled what appeared to be literal tons of water on the stove.

"Doitsu!" The two exclamation points in his voice could be heard as Italy practically leaped over the counter and hugged the suddenly tomato-red Germany tightly.

"I know you like pasta, but... but this is overkill. Feli,"

-Italy blushed and squealed a bit at the nickname-

"-you should be getting sleep."

Big puppy dog eyes immediately accused Germany of a horrible crime.

"Stop making pasta? But Doitsu, it's for tonight's dinner! It was gonna be a surprise and everything! I was gonna get candles and music, and-"

Suddenly the smaller nation burst into tears and sniffles. "-now the surprise is ruined!"

"Gah! Feliciano, calm down please, you weren't exactly being quiet with the pans and stuff!" Germany responded gruffly, then felt bad. He patted the other's back awkwardly but gently, looking worried.

But Italy was inconsolable. "Why does dinner always have to be the thing I screw up at? First our first date and now this!"

With that, he dissolved into a soft puddle of tears.

"Oh, Feli."

Germany wasn't one for comforting, but he was physically very strong, and he used this to his advantage as he scooped up Italy, carrying him upstairs despite weak whines of protest.

"Here." Germany tucked the other nation very gently between his own bedsheets, and sat on the end of the bed, stiffly watching.

Italy's eyes were heartbreaking. "Please don't leave me," he whispered, clinging to one of Germany's big hands with both of his own small and dainty and thin ones.

"Feli, Feli. I won't."

Germany instinctively pressed a few fingers to the small boy's forehead, and frowned. "You're getting sick, Feliciano, you're too warm."

"No dinner?" Italy gasped, then sneezed, and looked even more miserable.

"You've got a fever, so yes, no dinner date later tonight. You'll have to stay in bed for awhile."

"Uhahahaha!" Italy let loose with another round of fresh tears, his expression excruciatingly painful to see for the slightly soft-hearted blonde nation. "But we scheduled it and everything..."

"Who's we?"

"Everybody was going to come over for y-your birth- birthday," he sniffed sadly.

"Oh right, it is my..." Germany laughed slightly. "It's okay. We don't need them."

"We- we don't?"

"Nah. We'll be just fine here. Hang on. I have an idea."

By the time Germany had brought everything upstairs, about an hour later, Italy was lightly asleep, snoring adorably as he curled into a little ball. He jerked awake after a moment.

"Doitsu?"

Then his face lit up.

"Pasta!"

Germany had not only finished the pasta job Italy had begun, he'd also made garlic bread and heated some delicious-looking sauce. He sheepishly sat down, handing Italy a tray.

"Here. It's not soup, but I bet it works the same, for you anyway."

Catching the normally stoic Germany's hint at a joke, Italy giggled and poked him. "Good one!"

He sat up, and the two proceeded to wolf down the yummy meal.

It occurred to Germany that this was maybe what love was. When it really came down to it, it wasn't some fancy frilly card on Valentine's Day, or hearts drawn on a nice note, or a long passionate kiss. For Italy and Germany, true love is wiping Italy's tears, tucking him in and eating pasta at four in the morning.

Germany kind of likes the idea, but he doesn't know how he'll ever sleep if he wants to show Italy as much love as he truly feels.

La Fin

ATTACK OF THE FLUFF AAGHHHHHH!