Italy sat staring out the window on his tomato-print couch, watching raindrops slide down the glass. A bolt of lightning flashed as thunder started booming, scaring him slightly. He didn't like dark and cold days like this, though he knew the plants needed the rain after such a long drought. Grabbing the green blanket off the armrest of the, Italy wondered when the rain would stop. He knew that trying to sleep would be futile, as he would just wake up again. It would have been much nicer of a Sunday if it were warm and sunny.

The phone started ringing, a cheerful sound compared to the storm's rage. Italy danced over to the old telephone and picked it up, carefully so the cord wouldn't tangle like it did almost every time.

"Guten tag, Italy."

"Oh, hello Germany! How are you? What's wrong, why are you calling me ve ?

"Nein, nothing is wrong, Italy. I was just wondering if…" the German's voice faltered, making Italy worry.

"Germany, are you alright? Are you sick?" Italy replied anxiously.

Germany was trying to get a grip on himself, debating in his head if he should hang up the phone.

"I was just vondering if you vould like to… go out for lunch with me?" Gah, he'd said it. Germany was wondering if he was going to have a heart attack. Apparently talking on the telephone could defeat the tall, often intimidating blonde man.

"Ve~ of course Germany! Where should we meet?" the Italian replied, shocked but completely delighted.

"Vhy don't I pick you up in my car around 12:30…?

"Okay, I'll see you then!" Italy cut him off, as usual.

"Alvight." Replied Germany as Italy hung up on him. Rude as always, but pretty cute.

Germany sat at his desk staring down at his calendar, the jet-black phone still in his hand. His blonde hair fell over his eyes as he read over all the important things he had to get done by next week, and how he, Germany the practical, had just thrown away at least two precious hours.

I can't believe I just called up Italy on a whim and asked him to lunch with me. Vhat the hell was I thinking? Oh gott, now I don't want to go. It's too rude to call him up and cancel though, he sounded pretty excited. Vait why does that matter? I can call him up and cancel. Nein, I don't want to disappoint him. Okay, I'll go on this date with him and if it doesn't work out then…. Did I just… DATE? Vait, this isn't a date. Friends get together all the time for lunch. This is perfectly normal and is not a date. I sort of want it to be a date though… It's not a date. It's not.

Italy stood against the wall where the telephone was based, literally jumping up and down in happiness. Then he decided there were more important things to do, like putting some clothes on and getting ready to go.

Yeah, I'm going to lunch with Germany! I wonder where he's taking us, he never really said…

Hang on a moment. Why is he picking me up like it's a… date? Does Germany like me or something? Perhaps this isn't a date and I'm overthinking everything. Nah, it's not. It's just two friends eating lunch together. Oh I hope there's pasta! Pasta pasta pasta pasta…. What am I going to wear? It would be silly to wear my uniform for a da… lunch. I'll just wear some jeans and a fashionable t-shirt… why I am thinking about what I'm going to wear? Whatever. I can't wait!

AN: I'm probably doing this wrong, because I've been trying to figure out how to add ANs ever since I started posting stories. Is it customary to add notes at the bottom in bold, without any extra lines or anything? Let me know if you'd like.

So yeah, this story just got really fluffy on me; don't know where that came from. Anyways, thanks for reading!