Once again, here's another oneshot! These won't come out so quickly once I've caught up to where I am on Wattpad, but eh. Oh, and if you happen to speak any of the foreign languages I include in my stories and you notice a mistake, please correct me.
German Lullaby
It was quiet all throughout the house as Italy slowly blinked his eyes open. The sunlight was slowly filtering in through the spaces in the curtains, landing softly upon the Italian as he awoke to the world at last. Italy didn't really feel like getting up- it was Saturday after all- but he also knew that the sooner he got up to face the day, the sooner he could once again be in the presence of his lover.
Germany.
Italy smiled at the thought of his blonde partner. To almost everyone else in the world, humans and countries alike, he was a stern individual with no patience for anything but work. Italy, however, counted himself as one of the lucky few who knew the truth- that the Germanic nation was really a sweet, shy person who wasn't the best at articulating his feelings, but was undoubtedly one of the best friends you could ever have. He was always willing to lend a helping friend to those close to him (He had certainly done so for Italy on numerous occasions), and offered a calming presence whenever one found themselves stressed or anxious. Germany would then proceed to, after the person (Usually Italy) had calmed down, help to methodically sort out the problem.
Not only was he a great friend, but he was also (and Italy prided himself on being perhaps the only person who knew this) a great lover. He wasn't incredibly romantic, like France, or over the top, like America. He wasn't as sure of himself as Spain, and he didn't exude charisma like Romano did (at least towards people he liked/didn't know). In fact, he was rather timid and unsure, which is unlike his intimidating physique would lead you to believe. Whenever Italy kissed him or hugged him close he would blush. Germany wasn't too fond of public displays of affection; if Italy so much as held his hand while out of the house he would turn red and splutter a little. It wasn't that he wasn't good at things like that; rather, he was just simply uncomfortable with it all, seeing as he was a naturally introverted person (at least to some extent). Italy didn't really mind this, however; after all, it was simply the way Germany was, and Italy loved Germany immensely. So it didn't matter if he wasn't the country of amore. Plus, Italy thought it was cute when the usually serious nation grew pink like a carnation.
As Italy finally got up and began to get ready for the day, he pondered something that had bothered him for a little while. While he was perfectly happy with knowing about Germany's softer side (Don't get him wrong, Germany was strict and stern. He just had other aspects to his personality.), no one else really knew about it. To some degree he was selfishly pleased with this, but on the same token he wanted the world to see Germany the way that Italy saw him; as someone with a tough exterior and a warm, kind interior. Japan, Prussia, Hungary, and Austria knew about this- after all, they were the countries closest to Germany besides Italy- but it wasn't really enough. Italy wanted everyone to appreciate Germany the way that he thought Germany should be appreciated. He wanted his love to be recognized for not just his work ethic, but his heart as well.
Italy was still thinking about this even after he had finished with his morning shower, making his way down the stairs. He remembered many instances in which he had felt that the other nations had been (intentionally or not), insulting his beloved. One such occurrence had happened not too long ago at a world meeting...
Italy was walking alongside Germany after the meeting had finished. It had been hosted by France this turn-a-round, and had been as long and boring as ever. Even the arguments and squabbles between England and France had seemed dull, which didn't truly come as a surprise since the two were constantly bickering. Italy himself had almost fallen asleep twice: once when China had been droning on and on about pollution and his economy (Pointed looks had been thrown at America here, who had ignored them as usual.), and once when Switzerland had been making an incredibly long speech about how he was still neutral and would beat whoever dared cross his land uninvited with his peace prize (He had seemed to be glaring in Italy's direction when he had managed to wake himself up, but that was probably just his sleepy mind making things up again).
Germany, of course, had had no problems about staying awake at all (He'd even managed to take down a plethora of notes, of which Italy would no doubt be copying later), and had gently shaken Italy alert both times he had almost drifted off. To Italy, it didn't seem entirely fair that he wasn't allowed to sleep when Greece was, but he decided not to push it.
He had noticed that many of the other nations were just as disgruntled as Italy had been, so he gathered that no one had been particularly enthralled by the meeting either. So it came as a surprise when laughter had burst from behind the pair.
Italy, of course, turned around immediately, eager to know the reason for such glee during a period of such boredom. Germany turned around with more hesitancy, and most likely wouldn't have turned back at all if Italy's sudden about face hadn't caused him to follow suit.
The source of the laughter stemmed from the host himself, France. He was grinning widely and raising an eyebrow suggestively at a grinning Spain and struggling Romano, who were in the middle of one of their strange hugs. (Spain hugging Romano tightly while Romano fought in vain to distance himself away from the happy country.)
"Oh, you two, you look to be in such amour that I can barely stand it!" He placed his hand to his forehead dramatically, signalling his inability to cope with the couple's "lovey-doveyness".
"Lay off you French Bastard! And get off of me you Tomato Bastard!" Romano snarled, redoubling his efforts to escape. Spain, however, simply laughed and gripped Italy's brother closer.
"Lovi, why do you try to deny it? Te amo mucho, Lovi! My little Tomate!" Here Spain even tried to rub his face against Romano's, but it seemed as if he was having very little success. Knowing Romano, though, Italy could pick out the blush on his cursing brother's face. He giggled quietly, happy to know that his brother was happy, even if he wouldn't show it to the rest of the world. Spain knew this as well, which is why he didn't take offense to Romano's jibes and name-calling. That was simply the way Romano was.
France cooed at the couple, and England decided at that moment to appear. It seemed that he was summoned whenever France was even somewhat messing with people. "What are you doing to people now, frog?! Why don't you leave them alone!"
Sighing theatrically, France turned to England as Romano voiced his agreement. "Because they are in amour! Even though Romano tries to hide his affections for our dear Spain, he really does feel deeply for him underneath!" He quickly turned and pointed at Romano's once again scarlet cheeks. "See? He even blushes, undeniable proof! If he were to be like…" Here, France paused, and his eyes roamed the rapidly emptying hall as if trying to find something. His gaze fell upon Germany and Italy, and his eyes lit up. "Germany!"
"What?" Germany asked warily, not really wanting to be a part of this conversation.
France strode over to the pair, and Italy smiled up at him even though he was unsure of what the country of love was doing. After all, it couldn't be that bad, and even if it was, Italy felt safe knowing that Germany was right there to protect him.
France turned back to face England, Spain, and Romano and gestured to Germany. "If Romano was like Germany, unable to feel the effects of amour, then he wouldn't blush!"
The effect was instantaneous. Italy felt Germany stiffen beside him, and Italy himself couldn't help but feel a vague trace of...anger? Irritation? Whatever it was, it made Italy frown up at France. He could just tell it was an insult to his german.
Germany cleared his throat and said, "Pardon?" To everyone else, they would hear the phrase in his normal stiff, stern tone. But Italy was able to hear the beginnings of hurt in his lover's voice. This made sense to Italy, as Germany was always very self-conscious about his loving tendencies and his ability to be a good partner. This made Italy feel even more defensive for Germany, but he hid it beneath the usual smile and airy expression he knew the other nations associated with him.
"Well, it's obvious really! I am sorry, L'Allemagne, but it is apparent to all of the rest of the world that you neglect your poor little Italy in the department of love!" France declared, placing a hand over his heart in apparent horror.
Germany blushed as England smacked France upside the head. "You wanker, you can't just say that to people!"
Romano nearly launched himself at the Germanic nation, Spain barely managing to hold the fiery Italian back. "You bastard! You better be treating my brother right or I'll beat the crap out of you!" At this, Germany blushed even darker and started to slowly walk away from the group, but Italy held him back by placing a hand on his arm.
"Big Brother France, where did you get that idea?" Italy asked innocently (that's what they thought), and tilted his head to the side. "Germany is so very kind to me, and he always gives me the best hugs and kisses~" Germany glanced at him quickly, picking up on Italy's less than happy mood, and tried once again to walk away, this time attempting to take Italy with him, but surprisingly Italy was able to stand his ground. (On the inside, he was groaning with the strain of withstanding his lover's strength, and not even the brunt of it, but Germany's honor was at stake.)
France snorted, rubbing the back of his head where England hit him and flashing him a quick glare. "Well, mon ami, he never does anything with you! He never even holds your hand!" He gestured towards their hands, which were indeed not connected. Italy quickly reached over and grabbed his boyfriend's hand, intwinging their fingers and pretending he didn't notice the uncomfortable look in Germany's eyes. Just a moment longer.
Smiling, Italy replied in his bubbly voice, "Ve~Well, I guess your wrong. But in any case, it's not really your business, Big Brother France, and Germany and I have to go eat pasta now! Addio!" Pulling Germany along with him, Italy pranced off, ignoring the other nations' confused expressions behind him. He did manage to hear the last little bit said by France, however.
"Did...Did he just tell me that it's not my business?" He seemed amazed that Italy could be so blunt and rude (because, for Italy, this was the equivalent of screaming and cussing someone out).
Italy giggled a little internally, but once he and Germany were in their car he turned to his lover and gripped his hand tightly. "Germany, I am sorry for the way I acted, I know you were embarressed, but I just couldn't help myself when they spoke of you in such a way~!"
Germany sighed, his blush finally retreating to a small pink glow. "It's alright Italy. I know how I feel about you, and they can't change that. Let's just go home, alright? I have to walk Aster, Berlitz, and Blackie soon anyway."
Italy nodded, smiling. "Okay! Oh! Oh! We have to eat pasta before you do, though, okay?" He bounced up and down a little, giving Germany the puppy dog face he knew he couldn't resist.
As expected, Germany sighed before agreeing with a slight smile. And then the two were off, choosing to forget about the encounter with France for awhile while they ate pasta and played with the dogs.
Italy sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. That had been one of the instances that led to a little period of time where Germany was even more awkward and hesitant around Italy than usual. Italy knew that it had been because Germany thought that he wasn't a good enough companion for him. During these times Italy always reassured Germany that that was indeed not the case. In fact, last night Germany had finally believed him again, and returned to normal.
Last night...Italy blushed at the thought.
As he was walking into the living room, he could smell something coming from the kitchen. Whatever it was, it smelled really good, especially since Italy was quite hungry, having not eaten in hours. So he padded towards the kitchen, knowing that it must be where Germany had wandered off to that morning. But as he drew closer, he began to hear something other than the clinking of pans and plates. Italy slowed down, tip-toeing now as he stepped next to the slightly ajar door. No doubt about it, it was definitely a voice, and Germany's voice that. Italy would recognize that deep baritone anywhere.
But Germany wasn't just talking, it almost seemed as if he was...singing? Italy peeked into the kitchen through the crack in the door, and what he saw almost made him giggle in happiness.
There was Germany before the oven, wearing his black undershirt and blue night shorts. He had yet to comb his hair, so it hung partly in his face, and, as Italy watched, he saw him push it out of his eyes a couple of times in annoyance. He seemed to be making, as far as Italy could tell, a traditional German breakfast; there was sausage, and several cold meats, as well as some sweet jams, soft boiled eggs, cheeses, and some fruit. There were a couple of little dishes filled with honey and marmalde. Germany himself was just sprinkling some sesame seeds onto some Brötchen, small bread, before he put it into the oven. He had even made some Italian apple and raisen strudel, something Italy had taught him a while back. But that wasn't what truly drew most of his attention- although Italy was loving the smells gracing his senses and couldn't wait to eat. No, what made Italy smile brightly was the fact that Germany was gently singing a lullaby.
Italy knew that it was a lullaby because he recognized it as one Germany had sung to him before when he was too scared to fall asleep. The blue eyed nation would gently wrap Italy in his strong arms and rock the crying country soothingly, singing softly into his ear to calm him down. It always worked; Italy's sobs would quiet to just a few sniffles and hiccups, and then eventually he would be silent, growing drowsy as he listened to and felt the vibrations through Germany's broad chest as he serenaded the Italian. Italy loved Germany's voice; it was so deep and rumbly, yet smooth and vibrant at the same time. As an appreciator of the arts, Italy could tell that Germany was a musical individual.
As far as Italy knew, however, he was one of five people who had ever heard Germany sing. The other four consisted of the other nations who knew about Germany's softer side: Prussia (Germany's brother), Austria (Germany's musical mentor), Hungary, and Japan. Even then, most of them had only heard it on occasion, though Japan had confided to Italy, once, that it was some of the best singing he had ever heard. Of course, German was a language that was constantly sung in many other countries, like America and England, but they hadn't heard Germany specifically sing. Which could have been one of the things Italy added to the list of 'Things that the World Should Know about my Germany', but concerning this particular matter, Italy was happy to have Germany's talents all to himself.
"Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Mit Rosen bedacht
Mit Näglein besteckt
Schlüpf unter die Deck'
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt
Morgen früh, wenn Gott will
Wirst du wieder geweckt."
Italy closed his eyes as the familiar tune washed over him, carried to him by the rich tones of Germany's voice. He wasn't entirely sure what the words meant, even though Germany had told him once. But in Italy's defense that had been a while ago, and really, he couldn't be expected to remember it since he had been half asleep at the time. But in any case, it was soothing, and brought a smile to his lips.
"Guten Abend, gut' Nacht
Von Englein bewacht
Die zeigen im Traum
Dir Christkindleins Baum
Schlaf nun selig und süß
Schau im Traum 's Paradies
Schlaf nun selig und süß
Schau im Traum 's Paradies."
Germany finished singing the last line, and miraculously, just as he did so, the timer went off to signify that the breat in the oven was done. Italy was saddened to hear the end of the music, but his pain was lessened by the prospect of eating finally. And also, as Germany exited the kitchen to go wake Italy and bumped into said nation, Italy's smile grew even better as he listened to his lover's stutterings of "How long have you been there?" and watched the blush slowly travel up his cheeks. Maybe the fact that no one else knew this side of Germany wasn't a bad thing. After all, it meant that there would be more for him.
Translation for Guten Abend und gute Nacht!
Good evening, goodnight,
Covered with roses
Adorned with thorns
Slip under the covers
Tomorrow, if it is God's will,
Will you wake again
Tomorrow, if it is God's will,
Will you wake again
Good evening, goodnight,
Watched over by angels
In a dream they show you
The Christ-child's tree
Sleep blessed and sweetly
Look for paradise in your dream
Sleep blessed and sweetly
Look for paradise in your dream
(Music by Johannes Brahms. Text from Des Knaben Wunderhorn)