(( I'm doing this for the lolz. I'm sure that Italy would piss off Prussia to no end. But let me clarify something. Though it's mainly Gilbo and Veneciano in this fic, it won't be pairing them together. I ship Germany and Italy all the way!

Anyways, I guess I'll get this started. I hope that you guys enjoy this weird idea for a hetalia fanfic. Make sure to review to I know if I succeeded or flopped.

Awesome fanfic, commence! ))

:::

Damnit. The pain was starting to get to him. It just wouldn't go away. And he was stuck all alone in West's house, combating this stomachache. It wasn't hunger, he realized after raiding Germany's fridge. Several times. It wasn't nausea. It wasn't constipation, judging by the fact he had to use a plunger in West's bathroom this morning.

So now Prussia was reclined back on the couch, his feet kicked up onto the coffee table. Some program about unbelievable sports accidents was on TV. A man just had his leg impaled by the horns of a bull, and he couldn't help but laugh at the guy's misfortune. He wondered if being stabbed by the horns of a bull felt like the sort of pain he felt in his lower stomach.

He grimaced as it suddenly sharpened for a second. If this kept up, he was going to raid the medicine cabinet next.

He hoped that West kept things properly stocked. Prussia kept thinking to himself, about anything he could summon up. He needed to distract himself from a gnawing feeling that was settling in his chest. It was impossible… Impossible to believe that he could be feeling this.

It was fear.

What if this gets bad? No one is around to help me, he couldn't help but think for a second. In anger for worrying, Gilbert picked up a throw pillow and chucked it across the room. It hit a decorative vase, knocking it to the floor and shattering it. Looking back at the tv, he thought, Wow, that racecar sure is on fire. And the guy is still inside!

After another minute or two, there was suddenly a knock at the front door. It was too early for Germany to get back from that conference. It should be another day, most likely two.

Prussia got up from the couch to go answer it. Instantly, he doubled over a bit as his stomach protested. Grimacing, he stormed over to the door and ripped it open. "What?!"

Italy stood there, looking at him quizzically, with a hint of nervousness. "Is Germany home?"

"No," he simply replied. "Go home."

"Eh… Is something wrong?" the annoyance asked.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Does your stomach hurt?"

Prussia tensed up. "How did you know?"

Italy simply pointed to the other's abdomen, where he had a hand grabbing the sore spot. Prussia didn't even notice that he had been doing so.

"Go away," Gilbert spat, going to close the door.

"Wait!" Italy cried, pushing on the door to keep it from closing. "I left my dishes here a while ago! I just came to get them back."

Pausing for a second first, Gilbert pulled open the door again with a sigh. "Then you're gone. Got it?"

Italy nodded, a smile growing on his face. He followed Prussia in, closing the door behind himself. Veneciano couldn't help but notice that he was walking as if something was shoved up his butt.

He continued to the kitchen as Prussia went to relax on the couch again. Now there was a video about riots in the streets after a soccer team lost a really big game. People were insane.

"Um… When is Germany coming back?" he suddenly heard from behind him. Prussia broke his attention away from the program to look at Italy standing behind him.

"Later," Gilbert growled.

Relentless, Veneciano asked, "Can I wait for him to get back?"

"He's not coming back today. Go home," he responded.

"… Are you sure?"

Prussia shot him a withering glare that just emanated the feeling 'does this look unsure to you?'

Italy just tilted his head to the side, seemingly unfazed. Unexpectedly, he walked over and put his hand on Gilbert's forehead. Instantly, he slapped it away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Prussia has a fever," Veneciano thought aloud.

"Whatever happened to getting your dishes and leaving?" he persistently responded with acid in his tone.

"Do you want me to get some medicine for you?" Italy offered with his trademark vacant smile.

"Ugh…" Prussia groaned, face-palming. All of this stress was making his stomachache worse. He had no idea how Ludwig put up with this pest…

Suddenly, a clever thought struck him. "Go get me some Advil or something. Anything but Tylenol," he said, waving Italy off to do his bidding.

Veneciano smiled wider. "Hai~" He left Prussia alone for a few minutes, then came back with a bottle of ibuprofen. "There wasn't Advil, but this should be good."

Gilbert took it from him, looking at the bottle. "Go get me a glass of water. Room temperature," he said, next.

"I'll be right back," Italy replied, and headed towards the kitchen.

This isn't so bad, Prussia thought smugly to himself.

In no time, the Italian was back with a glass of water, just like he was asked to. Gilbert swallowed two pills and washed them down with the water. Fever, be gone!

Out of nowhere, he felt something lightly fall over his shoulders. Prussia looked in startled confusion at what the source was. It was a blanket.

"You looked cold," Veneciano explained in short. "Do you need anything else?"

He looked away, a bit annoyed with the fact that the other was so presumptuous (even though he was right). Gilbert thought to himself for a second. "I'm hungry. Go get me a snack. And it better not be pasta, just make it fast," he commanded.

Italy nodded with happiness. Germany would be so happy with him for helping his brother. He ran off, humming to himself.

Gilbert sighed to himself. The only thing slightly dampening the pleasure of having someone wait on him was the persisting pain. The medicine didn't seem to do anything yet. In fact, it was getting a bit worse as it seemed to be shifting down and to the right slowly.

And sadly, the show he was watching was over. Prussia leaned forward to reach for the remote left on the coffee table, from when he went to answer the door.

Instantly, he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach! It wasn't like any kind of hurt that he had felt before. He gasped as he clutched that spot.

It hurts… It hurts so badly… Ow! Yet, he couldn't help but get irritated with himself for being so weak. He pushed it out of the way, refusing to be dominated by something as idiotic as a upset stomach. Gilbert grabbed the remote and lay back again. He kicked up his feet again on the table.

That hurt too. No matter what he did, it wouldn't cease to bother him.

Italy came back with a bowl of chips. He saw the look of distress on Prussia's face, even though he was trying to hide it. "Maybe you should go see a doctor," he suggested, giving Gilbert the chips.

"Like Hell I will," he absentmindedly replied, digging in.

"What should I do now?"

Prussia smiled. Having another pawn wasn't so bad. "Find something good to watch. Nothing educational or kid-ish," he ordered, tossing the remote to Italy.

He just barely caught it, fumbling around with the buttons. Almost right away, he turned to the cooking channel.

"No," Gilbert responded, unamused.

Looking a little bit sad, Veneciano channel surfed, standing behind the couch as Prussia ate. He reached a channel with some reality show about people moving through this weird obstacle course.

"Stop," the other said. He started laughing as people were doing horribly. "That guy got knocked on his ass!"

"Go, go, go!" Italy cheered as the guy got back up to continue.

"Go stand in the corner," Gilbert said, distantly.

"E-eh? Why?"

"Because I told you to."

After thinking about it for a second, Veneciano walked away to stand in the nearby corner. Prussia was awfully bossy… He didn't like it so much. But he felt that maybe he should stay, in case something bad happened. Germany would be so proud of his dedication.

Gilbert didn't feel guilt for pushing around the Italian in the slightest. It was making him feel a bit better.

"Um, Prussia? Can I check you to see if you're okay?" Veneciano spoke up. "I promise I'll be quiet if you let me!"

That sounded way too good to be true. Not to mention that if he refused, he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Fine," he groaned. Gilbert kept a close eye on Veneciano as he happily got closer.

"Lay on your back, please," he requested. Prussia glared at him icily, but decided to humor the idiot. He shifted to move his legs from the coffee table to the couch, so he was sprawled across it as he brought back his arms to lay back on.

"Make it quick," he said. Laying flat was really bothering his stomach now.

Italy carefully pushed Prussia's shirt up a little, thinking that he had probably seen this before. He used two fingers to lightly press a spot to the lower right of his belly button. Instantly, Gilbert tensed up as it started to hurt. And as Italy withdrew his touch quickly, it started to hurt even more.

"Don't do that again! Stay away from me!" Prussia growled, sitting up to make it go away. He brought his legs up a bit closer to his chest, which helped a bit.

"Your stomach was rigid. I think I know what it is," Veneciano quickly said. "Austria got the same thing, except he was more of a baby about it… You should go to the hospital!"

"I'm not going anywhere. You, however, are going to go stand in that corner again, facing it, until I need you for something else," he angrily said.

Italy went to do so, but then whined, "Prussia~"

"What happened to your promise about being quiet?" Gilbert reminded him.

He went silent, finally. He knew that he should do something about this, but didn't know what. "Prussia…"

"Stop it."

"But-"

"Knock it off."

"Let me-"

"I'm going to throw something heavy at you."

Italy sighed. He almost wanted to go home now.

…

About half an hour later, Veneciano was standing in the same position. He was getting really tired. And hungry. He could really go for some pasta right now… It was around dinnertime. Whining about this was imminent.

"Hey," Prussia finally said to get Italy's attention.

"Y-yes?" he replied, figuring it would be okay to respond.

"Get me a wastebasket," Gilbert quietly ordered.

Veneciano left his corner, his stiff legs putting up a bit of complaint from moving again. He went to closest bathroom, knowing it had one of the smaller and more manageable trash bins. It was pretty much empty, so he brought it straight back to the living room.

"Got it," he tiredly announced, coming over to Prussia's side.

The other was leaning forward over the edge of the couch. He grabbed the waste bin and promptly threw up in it. Italy jumped in surprise. Temporarily forgetting about his own troubles, he rubbed Gilbert's back.

"What… did I say… about touching me?" snarled Prussia in response, shifting his gaze to the Italian. He went to empty his stomach's contents against his will again.

"I-I'm taking you to the hospital!" Veneciano replied.

"No you're not!"

"Yes, I am!" He grabbed Prussia's wrist. Prussia used his free hand to try to pry off Italy's grip. Italy used his free hand to grab that wrist, too. They spent at least a minute yanked back and forth on each other's arms, Gilbert trying to break free and Italy yanked him to his feet. He stumbled forwards, causing the other to stumble backwards. Italy tripped and landed on his back on the coffee table. Prussia planted a foot on his chest and tried to force him off.

Italy wouldn't give up on this. If Gilbert was really sick, then Germany would get mad at him for leaving. Not to mention that he wouldn't forgive himself for just abandoning the guy. He used hit last bit of effort to throw himself forward off his back. It worked, sending Prussia backwards now onto the couch.

Immediately, he let go of Italy while Italy still had his hands grabbing his wrists. He let out a harsh cry of pain as his stomach starting hurting worse than it had before. It was agonizing! He twisted around as it felt like he was being stabbed right through.

In a panic, Veneciano let go so he could help up Prussia. He supported the man as he brought him down towards the front door. Gilbert was shaking, not having the will to resist anymore. He could barely walk.

Italy brought him to the car and shoved him into the front passenger seat. He buckled the seatbelt, not too tight, and reclined the chair as far back as he could.

He then ran over to the other side of the car, hopped in, and drove as fast as the speed limit allowed to the hospital as Gilbert was curled up into a ball.

…

Veneciano sat in the waiting room, now feeling thoroughly tired. It had been a few hours since Prussia was admitted, being wheeled somewhere else in the building on a gurney.

He was bored, since all the magazines were old. There were only a few other people in the waiting room, and they didn't look like they wanted to be bothered so late at night. It was close to 12am now.

Previously, he had made an effort to call Germany. He called several places where Ludwig might be. Italy actually managed to reach the right one, but they said they would pass the message to him. He hoped that it got through…

Not to mention how hungry he was… It was unbearable!

Another 20 minutes passed of wishing he had something to eat and something to do. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice.

"Italy," Germany called out to him. Italy sprang up instantly, and walked up to Ludwig happily, who was standing in the waiting room entryway, a bit out of breath. "I came as soon as I heard."

"I was afraid that they wouldn't tell you," Italy said with a dumb smile. He then noticed that Germany was carrying a plastic bag. He looked at it quizzically.

Noticing Veneciano's curiosity, Ludwig bashfully said, "I thought you might be hungry. So I picked up something quick on the way."

Italy beamed with happiness. "Thank you so much! Germany is always thinking about me~"

Ludwig handed him the bag as then went to go sit down. With delight, Veneciano realized that the food was pasta! He started to dig in right away. It wasn't gourmet, but it was better than nothing.

"So… what's the problem?" Germany asked.

"Um… It began with an A… Appandisis, I think?" Italy tried to recall.

"Appendicitis?" Ludwig asked.

"Yeah, that!" He noticed that Germany now looked really nervous and upset as he sat there in silence. "I'm sure it will be fine. Don't worry," Veneciano continued. He finished eating.

Another hour passed, and Italy was asleep while leaning on Germany's shoulder. He couldn't help but smile at how tuckered out the other man was.

A nurse came into the room, spotted Veneciano, and walked over. "You're with Gilbert, right?" she asked the one who was awake.

"Yes," Germany answered rigidly. "I'm his brother."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine. The surgery was a success. Any later, though, and it could have been really bad," she informed him. "We've set him up in a room, so you're free to visit him, as long as you don't get him worked up. Don't forget to finish the paperwork before noon tomorrow."

"Thank you," he said, pleased with the news. The nurse gave him the room number and then left.

He was so happy, he couldn't help but give a hug to Italy.

"Ah! Ah! I didn't do it! I swear!" he quickly said, surprised out of sleep. "Eh? Germany?" he asked, noticing that Ludwig was embracing him.

"Thank you…" Germany quietly said.

…

It was almost 1am now, but they stood in the room where Prussia slept. He looked pretty okay now, and was starting to wake up.

"See, I told you it would be fine," Italy boasted to Germany.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Gilbert hoarsely said. The others turned their attention to him.

"Are you feeling better now?" Ludwig asked.

His brother stared at him. "I guess. But I missed seeing who won the hundred thousand dollars," he complained, referring to the tv show that was on before he had to leave.

"Maybe it will repeat sometime," Italy said.

Gilbert looked a way a bit, thinking. He quietly muttered, "Th-thank you."

"Eh?"

"I said thanks!" Prussia spat, embarrassed. Then, trying to distract from that, he added, "If you want, you can come over sometimes, as long as you don't bug the shit out of me."

Italy thought to himself for a second, with a frown. 'Will I have to stand in the corner again?" he asked.

"C-corner?" Germany let out in confusion, being that he wasn't there during the fun.

"Like I said. Don't annoy me," Prussia scoffed with a glare. Germany passed him a angry stare, not liking how that sounded.

"Yay!" Veneciano cheered.

:::

(( Note: Hai = yes in Japanese.

And that's the end. Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think, if you have a spare moment. Maybe I'll write an epilogue…

Messing with Gilbo is so fun! ))