When Germany climbed into bed next to Italy that evening, he was in a pretty good mood. The day had been pleasantly productive without being overly stressful, he had managed to make it home to Italy at a very reasonable time, and Italy had prepared them what was probably in the quality range of a perfect five-star gourmet Italian meal. Now Germany had had his shower and was all ready to take his pretty little lover into his arms and cuddle him close as they drifted off to sleep together.
Things were going well so far; Italy's warm, contentedly purring body was curled up against him, brushing playful kisses to Germany's throat. Germany was running his nails lightly up and down Italy's bare back under his shirt, raising little goosebumps of pleasure wherever he touched. Italy's kisses traveled leisurely up his neck, and danced teasingly around his lips for a moment before giving in and planting one squarely on Germany's mouth.
"I love Germany so much," Italy whispered against his lips before kissing them again.
"I… ahem, I feel the same about you," Germany admitted, starting to blush before he could command himself not to do so.
"That's why I'm sorry I have to do this," the smaller man continued.
"Eh…?" was all Germany had time to get out before Italy shouted "TICKLE FIGHT!"
His slender fingers attacked Germany's tender ribs fiercely and unexpectedly. Germany just barely had enough self control to bite down on his own lip firmly to ensure that the ensuing bubble of laughter didn't escape his mouth. "S-Stop it…! Wha-ha… What are you…?"
"Germany better make a counter attack if he doesn't want to lose!" Italy chirped. "Veee, I might actually beat Germany in something related to fighting!"
"D-don't be…ri-ridiculous! H-how is it e-hee-even p-possible… to win a tickle fight?" Germany gasped. "Th-there's no-ho way to… keep s-score or…"
"The first one to make the other one laugh wins!" Italy chirped. "I'll be nice and not count those little tiny ones Germany did while he was talking!"
Germany was using so much energy and concentration not to burst out laughing to really even think about making launching a counterattack on Italy. He knew that if Italy's hands just strayed a little lower that cursed spot just above his waist where his ribcage ended he'd be a goner. He knew that but he was powerless to stop it. Germany made a desperate effort to push Italy off of him, intending to wrap the blankets firmly around himself and curl into a ball so that Italy couldn't get him anymore but Italy was holding on tight. Allowing himself to laugh was out of the question; he couldn't let Italy hear that sound.
He had no chance of getting out of this with his dignity intact, it seemed, unless he tickled Italy. That of course was risky; he would have to lift his arms, which were clamped firmly to his sides, and thereby expose his weak spot. Germany tried to calculate his likelihood of success but his brain was flustered by the tickling and wasn't working properly. He decided to risk it, lifting his arms away from his ribs and making a grab for Italy's. It seemed that he was too slow, however. The second his ribs were exposed, Italy attacked his weak spot mercilessly.
Before Germany even had time to process his loss, he burst out laughing. It wasn't until Italy started to giggle in response to Germany's laughter that the bitterness of loss and humiliation sunk in. Germany hated his laugh. It was, in his opinion, girly and completely undignified. And Italy, who thought the world of him and always praised his strength and abilities, was quite possibly the last person to whom he wanted to reveal it. Now that Italy was no longer attacking, Germany rolled away and buried his face in his pillow, blushing to the roots of his golden hair. Even the back of his neck was scarlet.
"Germany has such a cute laugh!" Italy commented cheerfully. "It makes me kind of sad that I'd never heard it before!"
"Leave me alone!" Germany snapped. "It's bad enough without you picking on it too!"
"…Germany?" Italy said softly, the fondly amused tone vanishing from his voice to be replaced by concern. "Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?"
"It's humiliating!" he said bitterly. "I know that without other people rubbing it in! Prussia mocked me relentlessly about it growing up!"
Italy hesitated a moment before pressing a kiss to the back of Germany's neck and stroking his hair soothingly. "I'm sorry if I hurt Germany's feelings. I wasn't trying to make fun of it, I promise! I really like Germany's laugh!"
Germany shifted his head in the pillow just enough so that he could peer tentatively up at his lover, one eyebrow raised in disbelief and cautious hope that Italy was being sincere. Italy kissed him again.
"Just when I think I couldn't possibly love Germany any more than I already do, you reveal another wonderful part of yourself to me," the smaller man said softly. "And then, even though I already love Germany so much that it makes my chest hurt, I can't help loving you even more. Each part of you that Germany shares with me, even if it doesn't seem very pretty or important to Germany, is very, very special to me… So thank you."
"Italy…" Germany honestly didn't know how to reply to that. Before he had met Italy, he had often felt all alone in the world, ashamed of his own awkwardness and convinced that there was no one who could ever overlook all his flaws enough to actually want a relationship with him that was beyond mere acquaintances. He was pretty sure he was the one who was so in love that it hurt. Not that he would ever say such a thing out loud.
"It doesn't have to be right away," Italy continued quietly, pressing a kiss to the recently exposed part of Germany's forehead, "but I hope someday Germany will feel comfortable enough to laugh in front of me without being embarrassed. I'll wait patiently for that day."
Germany drew a shuddering breath from between clenched teeth as the affection he felt for Italy swelled uncontrollably in his heart until he was afraid it would burst. "Hmph… Let's just go to bed. I'm turning off the lights now."
He reached over and switched off the lamp on the bedside table. After waiting for Italy to get under the covers, Germany curled his arms around his slender frame and pulled him close, letting Italy snuggle into him happily. His lips met Italy's shyly in a series of soft kisses. Thank you…for accepting me. Germany tried to force these words out verbally but he just couldn't do it. In the end, he tried to project the thought clearly in the direction of his already sleeping lover, hoping that the sentiment would reach him somehow.