Medic
Italy wandered sleepily through the dark hallway to the familiar door that was his destination. It didn't occur to him to be quiet or stealthy, but surprisingly the person residing in the room merely rolled over in response to the door opening and closing. Italy stumbled over and collapsed on the bed with a small 'Oof!'. He curled into the man's back and moaned.
"Germany…" He whimpered. The other man grumbled in his sleep. "Germany. Germany. Germany."
"What is it?" Germany twisted over, glaring at Italy with one intimidating eye.
The brunette arched back, whimpered a little, then curled up again. "My stomach hurts."
Germany closed his eye and sighed. "You just ate too much. Go to sleep and you'll feel better." He pulled up the sheets around him and settled back into bed. He learned long ago it was pointless to try to kick the boy out of bed, so didn't fight the squirming body settling next to his.
"Germany…"
"I said go to sleep."
Italy closed his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about how badly his stomach hurt so he tried to focus on Germany's breathing instead. It was already soft and steady. Germany never snored or anything unpleasant like that and Italy liked that. He continued to think about the things he liked while trying to match his breathing with Germany's. He thought about painting, and maybe Germany would let him come over a paint a picture of his house because Italy thought his house looked so cozy, and he thought about the pretty girls he saw when he went out earlier that day, and about the German restaurant that Germany took him to for lunch, and the delicious food he had ordered…
Italy's stomach twisted and gurgled.
"Germany…" Italy whimpered. "Germany. Germany. Germany."
"What is it?" A tired voice responded.
"It's not working. My stomach hurts."
Germany growled and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I told you, you ate too much." He reached over the boy and fumbled in the darkness for the lamp switch. When the light lit the bedside, he took note about how Italy looked. The first thing he noticed was that the boy had his eyes open, a bad sign. Sweaty bangs clung to his flushed face, and the commonplace smile Germany took for granted was nonexistent.
"Uh, ok. I'll go get you some ginger ale. You stay here." He climbed out of bed and gave Italy one last, long look before going to the kitchen. In addition to the ginger ale, he stopped in the living room and skimmed his bookshelf for a medical book to assist him. He found it, and returned to the bedroom.
"Thank you so so so much! This will make me feel much better." Italy took the ginger ale and drank it.
"If you guzzle it like that, you'll feel worse, idiot. Sip it slowly." Germany advised as he opened the book he held to the table of contents. Italy brought the can down, glancing at the blond man thoughtfully, and began to sip the drink slowly.
Germany turned to the chapter on stomach aches.
"A stomach ache is one of the more annoying things in life," Germany peered over the pages at the patient. He continued. "Especially when you have things to do. Here are some things you can do so to get rid of them, while being productive and saving time." Two of Germany's favorite things. He nodded in approval and went down the list.
"Step 1: Do not eat anything because that may be the cause of the problem." This was repetition. In fact, Germany was surprised this never happened before. Or maybe it wasn't the first time, and the idea that this time was bad enough for Italy to seek out help made him more worried. "Step 2: Stretch slowly, breathing in and out at a steady pace. Facing a wall and belching may also help."
"Okay, Italy, I want you to turn over on your side and face the wall."
Italy complied easily, slipping down and rolling onto his side. However, he also kept holding his ginger ale while doing so. "Don't spill it on my bed!"
"But how can I drink it, then?"
"Very well. I will go get you a straw. Just keep facing the wall." Germany put the book down and went back to the kitchen. On the way his eye caught the time on the cuckoo clock. The face read 1:13. There was no way he'd be able to get up early enough now for training without enough sleep. Mein Gott, that Italy annoys the heck out of me sometimes, Germany thought. But he is my only friend and I cannot turn him away without being lonely again, he thought immediately after, and he felt horrible. Then again, if I sent him away, I could finally get some work done and sleep through the night without being bothered so much, and that would be good…
"Bleargh!"
"I didn't mean it!" Germany grabbed a straw and raced back to the bedroom, where Italy was on his knees over a puddle of vomit. On the bed.
Italy felt his whole body cramping when a strong hand pressed against the small of his back. Slowly and awkwardly the hand rubbed his back and shooed the cramps away. He looked over his shoulder to Germany, whose stoic face Italy never felt he could read very well. But knowing the man like he did, he was sure Germany was mad.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to; I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I'm-"
"It's okay." Germany's voice was deep, warm, comforting. "Next time, try to make it to the bathroom or a trashcan."
Without another word Germany scooped Italy up as if he weighed nothing. He carried him down the hall to his own bedroom and placed him on his own bed. Italy couldn't help but admire how Germany's muscles stood out in the moonlight that poured through the window. Germany apparently didn't notice the brunette staring as he quickly covered Italy with the warm comforter. Then he crossed the room, picked up a small wastebasket, and placed it next to the bed. "If you need to vomit again, vomit in here. I'll be right back." The light flicked on and Italy saw Germany's back disappear from the doorway.
Germany quickly gathered up the sheets and placed them in the wash. Then he retrieved the ginger ale, the straw, and the medical book. He skimmed through the next several steps.
"Step 3: Visit the toilet." It was obviously too late for that. "Step 4: Raise your feet to a higher level than the rest of your body. Prop them up on some pillows."
Germany put the straw in the soda can and handed it back to Italy, who sipped it happily. He retrieved two pillows from the linen closet. "How are you feeling?"
"A little better. Are you staying in my bed tonight, Germany?" Italy asked, eying the pillows curiously.
"Nein." He said quickly. "Ahem. The book says to put your feet up, so lay down." Italy did as he was bid. Germany picked up his feet and slid the pillows under them. Italy felt very comfortable.
"Ah, that feels so good. You're really good at this." Italy said, smiling a little and closing his eyes. Germany sat at the edge of the bed. Italy's color looked better. He brushed his forehead with the back of his hand, but there was no fever to worry about.
Crossing his arms, Germany felt relieved and serious once again. "Now, what have you eaten in the last few hours?"
"Um," Italy looked up at the ceiling. "Some pasta, some pizza, some potato pancakes…" His stomach knotted up at the thought of food and he stopped.
"I said the in the last few hours. We had German food for lunch."
"I know, but I thought those potato pancakes were so tasty that when you went over to Prussia's house that I looked up a recipe and made some at home to go with dinner. I put lots of jam and applesauce on them. Ugh…" Germany reached for the wastebasket, but Italy swallowed and seemed fine. "I made sure I cleaned up the kitchen like you like so there wasn't any mess."
For a second, a smile twitched at the corner of Germany's lips. He reached out and brushed Italy's bangs back. "So you did eat too much. I thought so." Germany sighed. "How many did you eat?"
"I don't know."
"Then go to sleep. You'll feel better. And promise me you'll never eat too many potato pancakes again."
"Okay, I promise. Buona notte, Germany."
"Gute nacht, Italy."
.
Italy stretched and yawned. The morning sun warmed his face. He sat up and greeted the day.
"Buon giorno, world! Ah! I had a great sleep. Huh?" Italy noticed the end of his bed was warm and dipped a little. Germany slept perpendicular to the bed with his arms crossed and his legs hanging over the side. Italy smiled. "Ha ha! I woke up before Germany again! Silly Germany, that's not how you sleep in a bed. No wonder he's always so grumpy." He hopped out of bed and rushed to call Japan to deliver the news.
A/N: So, three days ago I got APH off of Netflix, and at first I was like 'WTF' and then I saw Germany for the first time and then I was like '*heart*' and then I saw Germany pick up Italy out of the tomato crate and then I was like '*HEART bedump bedump*'. It's my first Hetalia fic so I haven't quite gotten the characterization yet. Anyway, anytime I come up with a one-shot or drabble or whatever I'll just post it here. Hope you enjoyed it.