Author's Note: D'awww, you know what inspired this one! Haven't updated in a while. Sorry 'bout that. I am also this close to creating another ficlet/drabble series for proverbs of the world. I won't.

Soccer ball tucked under his arm, Italy started his usual path towards Germany's house. It was familiar, always welcoming, and always had a similar outcome: seeing a half awake Germany murmuring groggily to himself about how early it was to be playing soccer.

Today was no exception to their ritualistic routine, and Germany was on time with his answering the door, but this time he held a freshly brewed cup of coffee. However, he managed to still be rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and dressed in his sleepwear. "Italy..." he droned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You do this every morning," Germany groaned, looking past a half dressed Italy (this was also part of the routine) and at the sky that had yet to brighten from its indigo cover. "After I keep telling you to stop coming to my house at this hour," he would have yelled in a scolding tone, but a yawn stealthily escaped before he could.

"It's a nice day today, Germany!" Italy honestly exclaimed. He turned the soccer ball round and round in his hands, looking at Germany's bed hair with a confounded expression. "Why aren't you ready yet?"

Germany drew a blank when he tried to answer. He looked down at his mug of coffee and wished it were of the alcoholic type before closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma steaming from the cup. "Come inside for a while." He stepped aside to let Italy pass and locked the door quietly.

Italy settled himself on Germany's couch awkwardly. Usually, Germany would let out a heavy sigh and tell him to wait, close the door, and then appear ready for a few games of early morning soccer. Today should have been like any other day, and the thought had Italy worried. "Ve, Germany... Are you okay?" He was perfectly alert, leaning in Germany's general direction to see if his eyes could find the 'problem'.

After pouring out his coffee into the sink (it was not as satisfying as other drinks) Germany shook sleepy thoughts from his head and took a seat on the couch opposing Italy. His eyes looked distant, contemplating, and drew a softly ask question of worry from Italy.

"What's wrong?" Italy's tone had become somber. Germany's welfare, physically and mentally, was always very important to him. And while Germany was usually so astute and had an eternal austerity about him, the atmosphere was off. If something had happened, Italy wanted to know. He had to know.

"Oh? It-- it's nothing." Germany really believed he could stop Italy's curiosity with that.

Italy stared at Germany with brown eyes that seemed to be peering into the soul. And every time it puzzled Germany.

"I'll always be here for you, Germany." Italy did not know what he was saying half the time, and he still did not know what he was saying then. The phrase was just always one that bought comfort to people and he thought if he had said it to Germany, perhaps it would settle the uneasiness his ally had. "Forever. We made a promise, remember?" These words started to become his, and they bought back the jovial, dense nature Italy had. He broke into a warm grin, "Ve, ve, ve! Remember, remember?" He left the soccer ball as he stood up from the couch and went over to Germany's side to sit next to him, wrapping a hand around Germany's to bring their pinkies together. "Please feel better, Germany! Then we can go play after you do!"

Germany could only silently look on as Italy went into the crescendo of hooking their pinkies together to finish off the morale boosting speech. The gesture was sweet, not that he expected any less from the heartwarming Italy. If it had been any one else, he would probably let himself get caught up in an embarrassed fumble to free his self of the situation, but it wasn't anyone else -- it was Italy. "I'm glad you're my friend," was whispered on a barely exhaled breath.

It wasn't heard, but Italy's wide smile made it seem like he would understand things even Germany himself couldn't comprehend.

Chi trova un amico, trova un tesoro.

(Italian; Translation: He who finds a friend finds a treasure.)