A/N: Just got kinda bored in the morning, and decided to write something.
This is what I thought up of.
Enjoy!
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Veneziano bursts through the door of Germany's office, squealing and 've'ing like he always does. He pounces on the blonde man, and instead of a mumble of annoyance and fondness, he gets a slap to the face.
He recoils, he is so surprised, and presses one of his hands to his face. Germany wasn't supposed to do that... Germany was supposed to protect him! They were best buddies!
He tentatively steps forward, head slightly lowered, a shaky smile on his face that was quickly becoming a scared frown.
"G-Germany?" Italy asks, holding out unsteady arms for a make-up hug. It is blatantly ignored.
"I have work. And you do too. So GET TO IT!"
That is what the new Germany says now, and Veneziano can't help the tears that spring to his eyes in fright. "B-but I-I-"
He is cut off, interrupted, by Germany, who was once so polite and well-rounded. Germany, who was once shy and caring. The war has made him so different and Italy just wants to help him, but Germany pushes him away, a solid boulder against his efforts.
And this makes Italy so sad.
He hurts for Germany.
He wants his friend back.
Germany shouts, nearly screams, for him to just GET OUT, and Veneziano can't help the tears that spring to his eyes when he runs out of the room.
Friends don't make each other cry, especially not best friends.
Germany is just stressed, he reassures himself.
He wipes away the salty droplets from his eyes, and passes by the bathroom on the way to his office; maybe if he did some work, Germany will be happy?
The door to the bathroom is open and the light is on.
Veneziano heads in to turn off the light when he notices his reflection in the mirror. It is so unlike himself, and he wonders what happened to caring about how he looked.
His eyes, normally so happy and energetic, are slightly dulled with war and worry for his friends. They are bloodshot from crying, and some of his skin is still wet where the tears inched their way down his face.
There is a red mark on his face, where Germany slapped him, and Italy could only gape and gingerly press his fingers to it, finally believing that Germany had actually hurt him.
His whole face droops right then, and he flicks off the light quickly, trudging towards the kitchen. After all, pasta has always cheered him up.
He hums to himself, chopping tomatoes and grating cheese. Making pasta has always been calming.
He boils the noodles, before pouring some into a bowl, filling it. He ladles the sauce over it, and sprinkles the cheese over that.
Italy realizes he has extra.
He organizes a bowl for Japan, and one for Germany.
He eats his bowl quickly, and washes it. He puts away Japan's bowl in the microwave for when he visits.
He stares at Germany's bowl.
Why does he feel so hesitant? Germany is his friend! He chides himself, cupping the bowl with his hands and skipping towards Germany's office once again.
But this time, he does not burst in. He knocks, like Mister Austria when he visits, or Japan. Germany answers with a brief 'come in', but that's it.
No angry bursts of outrage. No slaps.
Veneziano finds himself smiling.
"I made pasta~"
Germany opens the door, so tall and scary, and Italy thinks he might be slapped again.
But then Germany smiles, and takes the bowl.
He thanks Italy.
Feliciano has never felt so relieved, and Ludwig asks him if he wants to go to the park.
Because after all, it is nice to hide away in your human self once in a while.
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Daw, Italy, you adorable puppy, you.
So. Like it? Hate it?
Leave a review please!
Tak, and Best Wishes,
Wannabe-Danish-Cookie