author's note: Sorry. I am so sorry this took forever to be updated. I am Writing a story for my friends and they wouldn't let me stop writing it. But that story is on an unofficial timeout, for all my awesome fans. I plan to continue writing this till it is finished. I had testing and swimming and school and soccer and memorizing lines for a play and not much time for writing caus I don't always feel like it. Plus I'm bad at writing Germany/Italy so that just slowed me down. I am so bad at writing that I continue to have to fix the word writing when I spell it wrong. Also I was sooo awesomely surprised when I got all these email saying that a bunch of people liked and favorited my story. It was awesome. I will start writing the next chapter but don't check every day for my awesomeness is very slow at getting this story written.

Disclaimer: I can't always get what I want and this is one of these circumstances. I don't have Hetalila in my clutches. Meaning I don't own Hetalia

"Germany? Hey! Where are you Germany? Oh..."

Italy found his friend on the bed in their bedroom. Well, it wasn't really their bedroom but Italy felt a lot more comfortable sleeping with Germany so he had just kinda moved in. Germany was sorta shaking on the bed with his back turned to the little Italian. Italy knew this was a sign of destress or sadness. He had only seen it once before when Italy had moved away for a bit to live with Romano. Germany had grown pretty attached to Italy and disliked the idea of him leaving. Italy decided not to go to his brother's. Romano was very mad but Italy was used to it by now. Germany was happy but tried to hide his joy.

When Italy placed a hand on Germany's shoulder, he jumped.

"What's wrong il mio amore?"

"What? Oh. I'm not your love really. Well. I can't say."

Italy saw a letter on Germany's lap. He picked it up before Germany could stop him. After quickly glancing over the letter, he hugged Germany.

"Oh Germania! This is bad! Your fratello has been killed! Oh, mi dispiace. Ti amo ancora."

That last bit had just slipped out. I wasn't appropriate at the time. Luckily, that was a bit of Italian he hadn't said before. Germany probably wouldn't understand. Probably.

"Ich liebe dich auch Italien."

Italy knew that German. He had over heard Prussia say it to Canada. Well except for the Italien part. Germany loves me! Yay! Yay! Supendo!

"So Prussia is dead? Who killed him."

"The Allies. And Canada."

"COSA? Canada wouldn't do that! They were dating!"

"What!"

"Sì!"

Germany was too confused and upset. Gilbird had arrived at his house during breakfast a note that the bird dropped on Germany's plate. Instead of finding Prussia's messy scrabble, he found France's loopy cursive.

Dear Germany,

I have deepest regards when I send you this message. I'm afraid your frère has been dissolved. The form, written by America, was signed willingly by China, England, America, and Russia. Canada was literally forced by his twin to sign and I lost a bet to England. Me and my brother were close friends to Prussia and didn't want to do this. Canada held him in his last moments but hasn't been seen since. I send what small condolences I can knowing you hate me.

Avec Amour,

France

Germany was temped to burn the letter but couldn't handle even that.

His brother was gone? Forever? They had never had the best relationship but Prussia was Germany's big brother. He had helped Germany grow into the strong country that he was today. Germany had comfroted Prussia when he lost battles. They were friends and brothers. Now Prussia was gone.

Germany had half a mind to go invade America but it would solve nothing, just get his Allies, Japan and Italy, in trouble with the Allies as well. So Germany had resorted in his own strange way of crying. That is was how he was when Italy found him.

Italy hugged Germany, barely wrapping his own scrawny arms around the German's broad shoulders. Germany hugged Italy back, which made Italy squeal with pleasure. Germany blushed at the sound and broke away. However, a smile, instead of his normal stoic gaze, graced his face. They held hands as they climbed down a flight of stairs together. The bottom of the stairs opened up into Germany's large kitchen. Further on was Germany's living room. It was small and cozy, and this is were the couple decide to snuggle up to morn. Italy laid in the sofa with his head and Germany's lap. The tall man looked softly down at Italy's face, his warm tears splashing onto Italy's forehead. The Italian didn't mind, along as he had Germany all to himself.

"Prussia is gone. Forever. What am I to do without my big brother?" Germany murmured to himself. Italy reached up and wiped away a tear from Germany's face.

"You need to not press yourselves so hard. It isn't your fault Prussia died. It is America's. But right now what should do is morn, and love me." Italy crooned.

"Vereinbart." Germany leaned over and kissed Italy's damp forehead. He wasn't really sure what to do after that for Italy had fallen asleep, a cute little smile still resting on his face. Germany didn't want to wake his sleeping friend, but he knew how long Italy could stay asleep for.

He wasn't really interested in sitting here for that long watching Italy dream. Although it was cute, Germany wanted to do something a little more productive. He slid his hand under the carmel brown mop of hair and slowly lifted Italy's head off his lap. Germany replaced his own lap with a real pillow under Italy's head. He turned to leave but after a quick after though, kissed the sleeping nation's forehead again.

Germany then left the room to go cook some wurst for himself and pasta for Italy when he awoke. Humming to himself over the frying pan, Germany though about Prussia. He wasn't always the best brother, or even friend to Germany. He was always managing to get himself into trouble, and Germany always was responable for getting him out of it. Now that Germany was thinking about it, it was a lot like his relationship with the little nation sleeping in his living room.

No matter how much trouble Italy got himself into, Germany always rescued him because he was fond of him. Actually a little more than fond. Everything about Italy was perfect for Germany. So, more or less, They balanced each other out.

Italy was kind and caring, while Germany was strict and harsh. More than ever now that Italy lived with him, the Italian's compassion was rubbing of on Germany. As Prussia had pointed out, Germany was becoming soft enough to eat pasta instead of wurst. Maybe it was why Germany like Italy so much, he reminded Germany of a nicer, more spirited, more likable version of Prussia. Yes, Italy could be annoying and Yes, he did skip training a lot, but he loved Italy all the same.

The German hummed a polka song over the sink as the pot he was holding collected water. He set it over a flame on the stove and let it be. Now he got to his real task, making wurst. He collected the ingredients from their cabinets. Germany then laid them in a line in the order the would be used. The tomato sauce, chili sauce, onion salt, sugar and pepper. In it's own area was the kielbasa sausage, ready to be boiled over the stove when the pasta was done. Germany flew around the room, adding ingeridents and flipping sausage, but not making a single mess. He was just waiting for the wurst to cool when he remembered, the pasta!

Turning to the stove, he found himself face to face with bright amber eyes. Italy leaned forward and his lips touched Germany's pale ones. He smiled and turned away to attend to the almost finished pasta. Germany blushed and stood there for a couple seconds, thoughts rushing through his head. How did he get here without me noticing? Did he really just kiss me? How didn't make any noise when coming in? Did he really just kiss me? Italy finished his pasta and dressed it up on a plate. He noticed Germany still standing where they had kissed.

"Germany? Come on, you don't want your wurst getting cold! I'll join you for dinner! Let's go!" Italy linked his arm with Germany's and balanced his plate of pasta on his head and held Germany's food with his unoccupied hand. Germany subconsciencly followed the little man as he carefully pulled Germany into his own dinning room. He didn't even notice that Italy had put the plate of pasta on his head and then dragged him across the house. He was still fazed by Italy's little sneak attack on him in the kitchen.

Had he liked the kiss? Had he resented it? No definantly not resented it. He hadn't been fully aware of what was going on till it was over, so he couldn't be fully sure of what was happening. Germany knew that no matter how strong he was physically, he wasn't half as strong emotionally. Right now, definantly proved that. He didn't know what he was thinking or what he was doing, he couldn't even remeber English. So when Italy asked if he was ok, Germany sputtered out the wrong thing.

"Mein Gott, was ist passiert? Ich bin nicht sauer auf dich, aber was gerade passiert ist. Hast du mich küssen Italien?" Germany's blushed deepened to the color of his brother's eyes when he realized what he had said and that he had said it in German. Italy was obviously confused but he continued to smile at his friend. Italy replied the best he could, in English.

"I kissed you, your not mad?" He squeaked out through his hands. He just ment to express his feelings toward the man, not freak him out or anger him. Germany smiled back at Italy, who took this as a very good sign.

"Nein, I'm not mad at you. Of course I'm not. I am actually glad you did that because it helped me make a decsion that has been rolling around in my head for a year now." He leaned over the table and whispered the last part to Italy, even though no one but them lived in the house. "Italy, do you want to go out with me?" Germany sank back into his seat as the little Italian stared at him for a second, without a visible emotion to be seen. All of a sudden, he jumped up out of his seat, knocking the table, and shouted,

"Sì! Yes! Ja! Oui! Sí!" He was so excited by the question that rushed around the table and he kissed Germany again. This time, Germany kissed back.

They started their dinner, now cold since recent events had taken awhile. They were not even focused on the food anymore, just transfixed with each other. Germany was holding back, even after asking Italy out. Deep in his heart, Germany knew this was wrong. How could he be falling hopelessly for Italy the same day his older brother dies? It was if all of his barriers and logic had been broken by the seemingly weak nation. Germany couldn't stop the confused tears from forming little rivers down his cheeks. He looked over at his boyfriend to see the same rivers on his were thinking the same thing. How messed up and wonderful and sad this whole mess was.

Author's note of awesomeness: this chapter is story and very boring. I just didn't know what to do and I didn't want to keep everyone waiting forever so I ended it where it ends. But don't worry much more is in store for everyone!