We go first to church and then we
Have the sweetest buns and candy,
fum, fum, fum, fum, fum.
God will send us days of feasting
fum, fum, fum.
God will send us days of feasting
fum, fum, fum.
Both in hot months and in cold
for young and old, for young and old.
It was a cold winter's evening that Germany found himself with nothing to do at his house. Italy, as always, was sleeping before the fire on the floor, much like the cat which had curled itself up next to him. Japan was nowhere to be seen, and had left a note explaining that he had gone to visit China in his house briefly along with the rest of the Allies. Because of this, however, and the period of armistice with the Allies that had been put in place, Germany had wound up bored- something he rarely felt and almost always put down to laziness.
Idioten. Boredom is laziness. Get training in time for Japan's return.
However, after almost an hour of solid training and physical exertion, Germany didn't feel much better. What he did feel, however, was exhausted, and it wasn't long until he found himself subconsciously walking into the kitchen, washing his hands and taking out a baking tray from one of the wooden cupboards there. Greasing the tray, he sighed lightly in a mixture of both relief and fatigue, and got to work.
Germany put on some light pink oven gloves he had received on his birthday a few months before and carefully took out the prepared loaf of stollen. It looked and smelled wonderful; it was golden brown with a slight sheen, and many little dark circular raisins and currants were evident at the top.
Setting it down to cool, he went over towards Italy, crouching down as to not make a noise and shaking him lightly back and forth.
"Italy. Italy. Wake up."
Italy yawned slightly and opened his eyes, beaming when he saw Germany looking down at him. "Oh, hey, Germany! What's up…?"
"I made cake. Stollen. Do you want some? I know you like stollen, so-"
Italy stood up immediately and ran off like a shot towards the kitchen, grinning wider than America ever could. "YESSSSSSS! GERMANY MADE CAKE!"
At that moment, Japan walked in, opening the front door and almost being knocked over by Italy. "Italy, um, what are you-"
"GERMANY MADE CAKE!" Italy ignored him totally, rushing to the nearest corridor and out of sight. Germany and Japan watched him, still and quiet, until a few minutes had passed. Japan turned to Germany with a worried look on his face.
"You don't think he would have…?" Japan asked. Germany nodded.
"Let's find out."
As the two approached the kitchen, little groans of pain could be heard, and they entered to see the sight of Italy clutching his stomach desperately and three-quarters of the stollen gone.
"So…so sickly…" Italy moaned, his sadness evident on his crumpled-up face. "Germany…Japan…guys, help meeee..."
"You brought this upon yourself, Italy," Japan spoke, looking quickly away from the squirming Italian. "I cannot help you."
"Neither can I!" Germany exclaimed, looking more than hurt. "You eat pretty much all the stollen, Italy! Now there isn't any for Japan and I!"
Italy winced, still rolling around on the floor in an attempt to cease the stomach pains he was experiencing. "I'm sorry…!"
Germany shook his head. There was nothing he could do, now, other than-
No.
He stared back at the baking tray he'd taken out. Maybe.
He took out some more flour. Perhaps.
He collected some more raisins from the cupboard. Fine, I'll do it.
And with that, Germany began again, accompanied by the sounds of discomfort from below him.
Hello there friends! Here's your chapter for today. :)
I don't know why, I find Germany easy to write most of the time, but whenever he goes softie I...blegh. Sorry. :P
I also eat tomorrow's chocolate from the advent calendar because I forgot the date. Whoops. xD
Have a wonderful day/night from all the houses! Iggy presents you with some tea. :3