Germany sat behind his desk and dialed Italy's phone number, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window, awaiting an answer from his ally. He only hoped it would be that high-pitched, Pasta-loving tuttle and not his foul-mouthed, deep-voiced brother who hated Germany with a passion and would always confront him using colorful language. Perhaps he was jealous of the attention Italy gave to him instead of his own, real brother.

After about three rings , the former answered the phone . "Ciao! I knew you'da call, baby!" Italy started chatting away. "I wondered how long it would take you. The realization that you couldn't live without me was too unbearable, eh? I have counted the hours, the minutes…the seconds! Mi Amore! Talk to me, baby!"

Germany was silent from shock, not sure what to make of this new turn of events. Did Italy even know who he was talking to? Germany's cream-white face started to turn a hue of red in embarrassment. "Uh...Italy?" he finally managed to say.

"Huh? Germany, is that you?" Italy sounded a little surprised, but he chuckled. "I thought you were someone else."

"Apparently," Germany agreed with a slightly nervous chuckle.

"Oh, Germany, you should have seen her!" Italy said dreamily. "Dark brown hair and hazel eyes - she was like a goddess!"

"well that's certainly nice to know," Germany wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't even sure why he really called in the first place. Having a normal, friendly conversation was not a common event for him. It felt awkward. He was not good at talking about women, either, so he wasn't providing much support or much of a conversation. He was certain that he was wasting Italy's time being too serious or disinterested, when all he really wanted was to be involved. His feelings were a little mixed with his true intentions and thought perhaps he was only being selfish, or...

"Oh, God, I don't know..." he mumbled as Italy continued chatting, not even hearing his insert.

"So why did you call, anyway?" Italy asked politely out of curiosity.

"Oh!" Germany realized that he had unconsciously toned him out as he was used to doing and now Italy's focus was back on him. "Um, well..." why did I call again? "I wanted to inquire about your health."

"Huh?" Italy wondered why he would call about something so simple. He assumed that he wanted to inform him of some new battle strategy or economics, or something of that nature. "I guess...I'ma doing great! I'm eating pasta right now! It's delicious!"

"Of course you are," Germany smiled.

"Do you want some?" There was a pause then Italy giggled. "I suppose you can'te really have any over the telephone!"

"Ja, that would be strange," Germany agreed.

"How are you, Germany?" Italy returned Germany's question.

"Oh, fine, danke schoen," he answered.

There was another pause.

"Weeeeeellllll," Italy said. "I suppose I should be going now...I know you have a busy schedule...with no time for me...and stuff..."

"Actually, nien...I don't have anything going on right now," Germany was a little hesitant with that reply.

"...You don't?" Italy sounded concerned, but he was hiding his hope. Germany could be sick, or maybe not.

"I just...well..." his voice declined in volume here, "things are a lot quieter here...without...uh..." Germany didn't finish his sentence and was stumbling over his words.

"Without what?" Italy asked innocently.

"Without mein freund." Germany smiled.

The End