"Germany," Italy said, long nightshirt coming past his thighs. The room was quiet, the lights flickering and casting broken shadows on the wall. Germany was so confused, could have sworn it was a dream or something even better. "Germany, Germany. Please, wake up."
Germany groaned and rolled to the side, trying to understand the nation's words through the mess of sleepy haze. He was still drunk somewhat, and just happy that Japan had been kind enough to allow a few of them to stay. "Ja, Italy, what is it?"
He set the candle down on the bedside table, then bit down hard on his lip. "Let me sleep here, Germany," Italy whispered, already nudging Germany to shift and make room. "Please, Germany, let me in."
Germany felt the same bit of strange embarrassment coursing through his veins and to his cheeks, but something about the tone in Italy's voice was frightening. His eyes were big and bright, even in the darkened room, and his breath was short, panting in gasps.
"O-kay," Germany said slowly, allowing the lithe body under the covers. Italy's body was trembling, and Germany put a tentative hand on his lower back. He wasn't usually like this, although they had shared a bed before when Italy was afraid of the gunshots. "Is everything okay?"
Italy pulled out his little white flag from behind his back – a security blanket for when he was scared – and nodded, slow and unsteady. "I just didn't want to sleep alone," he said, and Germany hoped he was telling the truth. Never had Italy not been wholehearted in his feelings – his tears, his laughter, and his wants.
So, Germany let Italy's body shake against him, close and clutching and maybe unbreathing. There was a stillness in the room that left Germany wanting and unsure, hands finally stroking the sleep-tousled auburn hair. He tucked pieces behind Italy's ear, listening to him breathe. It must have been three or four in the morning, and Germany knew his paperwork was due at seven fifteen am, on the dot.
But it didn't matter, because Italy was there.
It kept reminding him of a time, of a different body and a different state of mind. Of his little hands (that maybe wasn't him) holding the tiny maid's, the food he gave to Italia when he was punished and sent off to bed. Germany traced the outer edge of Italy's earlobe, feeling him begin to relax and fall into sleep against him. Something was troubling the usually careless spirit, but Germany did not know how to react.
"Close your eyes and relax," Germany said, hoping not to sound to gruff. He could feel Italy's fists clenching and unclenching against the fabric of his tee-shirt, and it was making him nervous. "Sleep, Italia, please."
The Italian nuzzled his face into Germany's skin, making Germany's heart speed and his hands begin to sweat. "Thank you, Germany," he whispered, his name sounding holy as it rolled off of his tongue. He listened to the dull lull of Italy's breathing, until the steady breaths turned into quiet sighs of sleep.
"One day, mein liebe," he said softly, pressing his hands to the fairness of Italy's cheeks. "One day we'll have it all figured out."
(ahhh, okay, I know these are short, but they'll get longer I promise. Thank you for reading and reviewing!)
