AUTHOR'S NOTE

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of the characters therein.


Italy fell out of his bed, his legs tangled in the sheets. He could have sworn he heard someone screaming, but that didn't make any sense. The only other person here was Germany, and he wasn't scared of anything. He must have been dreaming; there's no way…

Italy practically jumped out of his skin as a blood-curdling yell echoed throughout the house. There was no mistaking it this time; it was definitely Germany, and he was in trouble.

Italy kicked his legs free of the sheets and sprinted to Germany's room, throwing open the door and running to the side of the bed. Germany was thrashing around, punching and kicking the air as he yelled. As he screamed.

Italy stood frozen; he had no idea what to do. This was Germany; strong, unflinching Germany. Nothing could shake him! He wasn't afraid of anything!

Italy was spurred to action as Germany let out another pain-filled cry. He tried to grab his arms, but anytime Italy touched him Germany would scream and jerk away with renewed force. He finally managed to get a hold of his shoulders, thinking he could maybe shake him awake, but Italy immediately pulled his hands back. Germany's skin felt like it was on fire.

"Germany! Germany, wake up!" Italy yelled, trying to be heard over Germany's shouts. But Germany appeared not to hear him as he continued to thrash about.

'I have to cool him down,' Italy thought. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed as many hand towels as he could hold, shoving them under the faucet and dousing them with cold water. Italy jumped with each cry that came from Germany's room, causing him to splash water all over the tile. He turned the faucet off and sprinted back to the bedroom, nearly slipping on the wet floor. He knelt down by the bed and tried to put the cold towels on Germany's feverish body. But anytime the cloth touched his skin, Germany would scream and thrash, throwing the towel across the room.

Italy started to panic. He didn't know what to do. He began to hyperventilate as he tried to think of something, anything. Germany was the one who would know what to do. He was the one with the plan, the one who was always in control, the one who always came to save the day. But now Germany was sick. Germany was the one in need of rescuing. Tears ran down Italy's cheeks as he sat frozen, watching his friend writhing in pain and not being able to do anything about it. What could he do? He had to do something! Anything!

So Italy did the only thing he could think of; he began to sing.

"Stella, stellina (Star, little star)

La notte si avvicina. (Night is approaching.)

La fiamma traballa." (The flame flickers.)

Italy's voice came out shaky and unsure as he sang the first few lines of the familiar lullaby. His grandfather used to sing it to him when he was a small child, and it was the first thing that had popped into Italy's head. Whenever he was scared or feeling sad, his grandpa would scoop him up and sing this song, rocking him back and forth until he calmed down. He only hoped that it would have the same effect on Germany.

As Italy sang, Germany's cries began to lessen and his body calmed down. It was working! He was getting through! Italy continued singing with renewed vigor.

"La mucca nella stalla. (The cow in the barn,)

La mucca e il vitello, (The cow and the calf,)

La pecora e l'agnello, (The ewe and the lamb,)

La chioccia con il pulcino." (The hen with the chick.)

Italy began gently placing the few cold towels he still had within reach on Germany's chest. Germany's breath wheezed in and out and the last of his cries subsided to groans and whimpers. His entire body was trembling, and he still winced at any contact. Italy placed the last towel on Germany's forehead. He reached over and grabbed Germany's hands in a firm but gentle hold as he finished the lullaby.

"Ognuno ha il suo bambino, (Everyone has his child)

Ognuno ha la sua mamma, (Everyone has his mother)

E tutti fanno la nanna." (And everyone went beddy-bye.)

Germany opened his fever-glazed eyes and looked up at Italy. He let out a shaky sigh as he squeezed Italy's hands, turning his head away.

"I'm sorry, Italy…I'm so sorry…bitte verzeih mir…forgive me…" Germany gasped out as his eyes filled with tears.

"Shhh, it's alright Germany. It's ok," Italy whispered as he lay on the edge of the bed next to Germany. He reached over and gently turned Germany's face towards him. Germany flinched at Italy's touch, a small cry escaping his lips, but allowed Italy to guide his head so that their foreheads touched.

"It's ok, Germany. You don't need to be scared. It was just a bad dream," Italy said as he wrapped his arms around Germany and pulled him into his chest, the way his grandpa used to whenever he was scared. Germany grabbed onto Italy's nightshirt as his body trembled and his chest hitched, the cold towels sliding onto the bed. The two stayed that way until Italy felt Germany's body still and his breathing returned to normal. Italy began to get up to retrieve the other towels, but as he stood Germany cried out and grabbed onto Italy's arm.

"No, please…" he begged, the fever-haze still covering his eyes as Germany looked up at Italy. "Please…don't leave me again…"

Italy felt a pang of guilt at Germany's words. He never realized how much it had affected Germany when he left the Axis to join the Allies. Even though Germany had told him to go, that they were fighting a losing battle and it would be safer for Italy with the Allies, he knew that Germany wanted him to stay. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of Germany all alone, fighting the Allies by himself with no one to turn to. Even now, the Allies would talk bad about Germany and say horrible things about him behind his back. Italy had tried to tell them that he was just trying to do right by his country, that he was really a nice person that never wanted to hurt anyone, but they brushed him off and said he was too naïve and trusting. They told him to forget about Germany, that he was an uncaring person who would only hurt him.

But that wasn't true. Whenever he was with Germany, Italy felt safe. Nobody had ever looked out for him the way that Germany did. All his life, he had been ruled over and pushed around by the other countries. He had always been told what to do and where to go and what to think. But Germany never did any of those things. Germany never forced him into anything. He let Italy decide what he wanted, and supported him in his decisions even if there was no benefit to him. He would listen to his silly stories, play with him when he was bored, and take him seriously whenever Italy talked to him. Germany never made him feel like he was a bother, or that he didn't want him around.

Most of all, Germany made him feel loved. He felt like his existence meant something when he was with Germany. Every glance, every touch, every smile made Italy's heart race and his body fill with warmth. He was never afraid to be himself; he knew that Germany would always accept him. So no matter what anyone said, Italy would never stop being friends with Germany. He would always try and make him smile and repay him for the kindness he showed to him every day.

Italy laid back down in the bed and pulled Germany onto his chest as he latched onto his nightshirt again. He gently rubbed Germany's back as he buried his face in his soft blonde hair, taking a deep breath and inhaling Germany's musky scent.

"Don't worry, Germany, I'm here. I won't ever leave you again," Italy said, placing a small kiss on the top of Germany's head. "I promise."

Germany sighed into Italy's chest as he kissed his head, relaxing the death grip on his shirt. Italy continued to stroke his back as he felt Germany's body relax and fall into slumber. Germany shifted in his sleep and wrapped his arm around Italy's waist, pulling them closer. Italy smiled as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


AUTHOR'S NOTE

So the song I used is actually an old Italian lullaby called "Stella, Stellina" ("Star, Little Star"). I thought it was really cute!

Thanks again for reading! Please feel free to review or comment!

Foreign Word Definitions: bitte verzeih mir – please forgive me