A/N: HI THERE. I formally apologize for the great delay and procrastination in this chapter but prepare for a…..FICSPLOSION. THAT'S RIGHT. I'M MAKING PUNS. So…now that I'm in a study hall, I'm hoping to put out chapters of Breaking the Chain, More Than Just Hunger Pains, and ANOTHER SUPER SECRET THINGY THAT ONLY MY BETA AND I KNOW THE EXISTENCE OF. On another note…HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW EPISODES OF HETALIA? THEY'RE GREAT! I'm really happy to be putting chapters out once more, so HERE'S SOME ANGST. AND NOT ANGST. IT'S A MIX.
Germany finished working on his paperwork sometime later. He stood up and headed to the bedroom, picking up Italy's clothes as he went.
Germany saw the small Italian sleeping peacefully and crawled into bed next to him. He pulled Italy close and fell asleep, concentrating on Italy's soft breathing.
When Italy awoke, he felt Germany's heartbeat and instantly nuzzled his head into Germany's chest. The movement awoke the German. Italy blinked up at Germany with his caramel eyes.
"Buongiornno~."
"Guten morgen."
"Germany?"
"Ja?"
"Could we make pasta for dinner?"
Germany smiled. "Yes."
The two lay in bed and cuddled for a little longer before getting up, and dressing in Italy's case. They then headed downstairs to the kitchen together.
"Ve~ Germany! Let's make lasagna!"
"Do we even have the noodles for that?"
"Sure we do!" Italy climbed up on the counter and flung the cupboard open, almost hitting himself in the face. At this, Germany grabbed his waist.
"Don't fall."
"I won't~! Here it is!" Italy grabbed a box from the top shelf and handed it to Germany, who set it on the counter before helping Italy down.
Germany was currently driving to the beach with two noisy Italians in his backseat and a chattering Spaniard in his passenger seat. The only reason he allowed the other two to come with is because Italy had insisted.
"Ve, Germany, Spain and Romano should come with! It would be like a double date!"
That Italian could make him jump off a cliff; it would probably be after Italy tripped and fell, but he would jump without hesitation.
Germany was soon pulled out of his thoughts by Spain.
"Germany, isn't that our exit?" the Spaniard gestured to the off ramp.
"Ve! Germany! Drive faster so we get there quicker!" Italy bounced in eagerness.
"Why would he do that, stupido? It will take longer to get there if we get pulled over," Romano said as he smacked Italy.
"Ow! Romano~ That hurt!"
"Stop bickering you two! I'm trying to drive!"
"Roma~ No hitting~! And Germany, I thought your multitasking skills would have improved after being with Italy for so long~."
Germany just groaned as he pulled into the parking structure of the hotel they would be staying at. Italy insisted this be a weekend long trip. Bad idea that was; he could feel a headache lingering at the back of his head. Why were Mediterranean nations so loud, anyways? Germany found a suitable parking space and turned off the car. Everyone got out and grabbed their bags from the trunk.
It was a good thing they were at an Italian hotel, as the noisiness didn't cause a scene while Romano checked them in. Italy was happy that they were all going to get to spend some time together. And with Spain and Romano around, Germany wouldn't be able to hurt him. Of course, even if Germany did hit him, Italy had excuses ready. And his razor blade. He never left home without that or his pocket knife, now. They were his security blankets and he didn't plan on letting go.
Their room was on the fifth floor, overlooking the sea. Germany ended up unpacking for Italy since Italy was staring out the window. Spain and Romano were arguing over who got which side of the bed.
"You could just sleep on top of me like usual~"
"Shut up, you pervert!" Romano smacked Spain with a pillow. Italy took notice of this.
"Ve…pillow fight!" Italy shouted as he grabbed a pillow and swung at Germany.
"Dammit, Italy!" Germany tossed Italy onto Spain and Romano's bed, as the Italian had knocked over his folding. Italy was giggling and defending himself with a pillow as Romano attacked him.
"Ve~ Romano! Stop that!"
"No! You wanted a pillow fight, so you get a damn pillow fight!"
"Roma~!" Spain called as he swung a pillow at Romano's ass. The two then got in an argument and pillow/fist fight of their own. Most of the fists were Romano's. Germany was searching desperately for his aspirin as Italy slinked off to the bathroom.
Once he was sure the door was locked and shut tight, Italy rolled up his sleeve. He unrolled the gauze and tossed it in the trash. He stared at the cuts. It was intriguing. Why did he do it? He was the nation that hated the war and the pain in the world, yet he sat and stared at his own blood with a strange, almost masochistic, glee. But why? Why did he feel the need to do it? Nothing was really bad in his life-at least nothing he could complain about. He wasn't sick. He had a great, loving boyfriend. So what if Germany hit him a little when he was drunk? Lots of guys got violent when they were drunk, right? And he was a nation! Everything was taken care of. Maybe he was just being an attention whore! That's it! He had relapsed the night it had been all about Germany. And ever since then, the others had been worried about him and not congratulating Germany!
What if Germany drank just so he had an excuse to hit Italy? It had to end. The others didn't deserve for their lives to revolve around pathetic Italy. It was going to end and it was going to end tonight.
Italy wrapped his arm in some fresh gauze, albeit sloppily. He was never good at wrapping his arms.
Italy was just putting the gauze away when there was a knock at the door.
"Feli? You okay?" Spain asked. He sounded concerned. He probably expected a bloody Italy to open the door.
"Ve, I'm fine!" Italy said as he opened the door, a smile plastered on his face.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay…"
"Really! Why don't we get something to eat?"
"You're always hungry, aren't you?"
"A healthy Italia has a healthy appetite," Romano said as he joined the conversation.
"Is living off of carbs that healthy?"
"You'd know, wouldn't you, potato bastard?!"
"I don't live off of potatoes."
"Don't fight you two~"
"Stay out of this-I'll fight with whoever I want whenever I damn well please!"
"Fratello! Stop being mean! And I'm hungry!"
"Fine. Potato head is paying."
"Lovi! Don't be so rude!"
"Fine. Beer breath is paying."
"We'll split the check! Start acting like the grown nations you are and let's go."
"No need to yell, Luddy…"
They all grabbed their jackets and wallets and put on their shoes (Germany helping Italy with his), before walking out the door.
The nations were headed to an Italian restaurant. Any bickering between Spain and Romano was drowned out by Italy's cheerful anticipation for dinner. The three other nations in the car were absolutely clueless as to how this Italian could be so happy and cheerful, while his arms were so scarred.
When they arrived, Italy stumbled and fell as he got out of the car. He flinched as Germany helped him up; the German had accidentally grabbed his wrist.
"I-I'm sorry, Feliciano," Germany quickly apologized as he noticed why Italy had flinched.
"It's not a problem! I just fell," Italy quickly brushed it off, clearly not wanting to bring attention to his bad habit.
Germany held the door open for Italy and the group found their seats. Pastas and soups were ordered, along with breadsticks. The Italies ordered wine with their dinners while Spain and Germany opted for water. It was an expensive restaurant.
The nations waited patiently for their meals, Italy at one point even asked for crayons to color on his placemat (they gave him a box).
"Stop that!" Romano snapped at his brother across the table.
"Stop what?"
"Kicking me."
"Ve…I'm not kicking you."
"Yes you are."
"No!"
"Damn it, knock it off!" This time, Romano emphasized his demands with a kick to Italy's shin. Italy had been subconsciously kicking his legs.
"Ow!" Italy sent a kick back towards his brother. Germany and Spain simply ignored the two, hoping their antics would stop on their own. But it continued with an occasional squeak from Italy, probably from is bruised legs.
"Enough!" Barked Germany as he lifted Italy and swapped spots with him.
"Gross. I don't want to have to choke down my food while staring at you."
"Lovi! Behave!"
Germany simply closed his eyes and hoped his oncoming headache would be merciful.
Spain was lecturing Romano when the waitress walked up with plates of food. Italy bounced in delight, as he was rather hungry now.
