AN/: Just something silly that plagued me in math class today.

"Italy!" Germany yelled, getting more and more frustrated with each passing moment. "This isn't funny! Come out, we need to start training soon! We're already late!" he threw open the coat closet door and shoved aside the jackets, searching desperately for his ally.

Italy always pulled something like this; when he felt like being lazy (which was most of the time), he would find some way to worm out of his training. Whether it be pretending to be sick, forcing himself to throw up, or even just hiding, Italy always came up with fresh ways to avoid working.

"You know, if you put a fraction of this effort into training, you'd be a military god in no time!" Germany yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth in a make-shift megaphone. "Italy!" closet after closet, cupboard after cupboard, Germany's efforts to find Italy proved fruitless.

He had checked practically everywhere in the house–under beds, in the garage, in the attic, the crawlspace, the washing machine, and behind the couch. Italy had somehow managed to completely disappear. Germany was sure he was in the house since he couldn't drive, but...where else could he possibly be?!

"Oh...oh...ah..." moans echoed down the hallway, causing Germany to whip his head around. "Ah...Germany...ugh..." Italy stumbled down the hallway, clutching at something near his waist. Germany's first response was to roll his eyes; the second was to look at his waist and almost scream.

There was a knife in his stomach! An honest to goodness knife, and there was blood running down his shirt!

"I-Italy! What in the hell?!" he cried, rushing forward.

"Ah...Germany...ugh-" and with that, he fell on the floor, sprawled out on the linoleum with his eyes scrunched closed. Germany didn't quite know what to do–this was all happening so fast! Panicked and irrational thoughts chased each other around in his head, unable to form concise and clear ideas.

"Italy! Stay with me!" he smacked the little nation gently on the cheek and when he received no response, raced to the kitchen and filled a large, plastic cup to the brim with freezing-cold water. Sprinting back, he threw the water into Italy's face, waking him instantly.

"Eek! Doitsu, why would you do that?! That was so mean!" Italy cried, bolting upright and trying to rub the water from his face, shivering.

Germany's mouth fell open as Italy shook himself, seeming to forget all about the sharp weapon protruding from his middle and the blood seeping onto the floor. His mouth opened even wider when the knife crumpled as Italy sat forward to shake his hair out.

"T-that knife! It just..." and then, just like that, it clicked. Avoiding training. A distraction. Dramatics. Oh no. "Mein gott..." Germany muttered, anger taking the place of panic and relief. "Italy...was this just a ploy to get out of exercising?"

"I thought if you thought I was dead, you wouldn't make me train." Italy pouted, crossing his arms. "But then you decided to be a meany-pants and soak me with ice-water!"

Italy crumpled the rest of the tin-foil knife up into a little ball and licked some of the ketchup from his fingers. "I stained my shirt for nothing."

"FIFTY EXTRA PUSH-UPS!"

"Ve?! Fifty?! But Germany-"

"A HUNDRED EXTRA PUSH-UPS!"

"Ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you worry!"

"TWO HUNDRED EXTRA PUSH-UPS AND THREE EXTRA MILES!"

"Can I at least change my shirt first?!"

"GO! ONE! TWO! ALL THE WAY DOWN, ITALIA!"

AN/: Tee-hee, I realize this is probably very silly and kinda...well, odd, but I would appreciate a review or favorite!

Thank you for reading!

MikuLover~