This one-shot is connected to situation mentioned in Portrait painted with love. I've had lately problems with vein, but I really wanted to write something about Germany/Italy friendship. So - in the end - I've wrote this short fic.

White flags

There were many things Germany didn't liked – hell, things he hated! – about Italy. His laziness (how it was possible that he didn't run fast enough on the drill, and he could easily sprint away, when it came to fight with England?) his immoderation in eating gelato (damn it, Ludwig was in drag store so often that guy, who was running this business, was preparing pills on stomachache just when he had seen nation in the street), his whining, his annoying habit to make pasta everywhere, but the most of all – his white flags.

Feliciano was making them in every camp and waving it during every battle they were fight together. Ludwig was repeatedly yelling at him for that and saying on and on, he should quit doing it already, but Italian didn't listened (as always – another annoying thing about him). Germany was taught to fight to his last breath and never give up, unless it was absolutely necessary, so he obviously was really angry, when Italy made one white flag for him. Feliciano came to him and said that he completed the preparations for combat (it was pasta ingredients, damn it…) and then add something "to use during the combat". He ran for it, saying that he also brought one for his commander. At first Germany was touched, because Italy actually made something for him, but when he saw this white flag with letters: I surrender, Germany, he felt like he was going to kill Italian right here and right now.

"That's it, Italy!" He yelled, making little nation hide his head in arms and stop grinning with that goofy smile. Next thing, Ludwig had done, was threw the white flag on the ground and barked: "Why the hell, are you making those junk?!

"I just thought…" Scared Italy started.

"Don't interrupt me, when I'm scolding you!" Harsh scream, louder than any other Ludwig's scream Feliciano had heard before, made him form tears in corners of his eyes. "Do you have any honor at all?! You always running, you little coward! How do you suppose to win the battle, when you constantly surrender?!"

"Ludwig…" Feliciano's eyes widened with sadness, fear and disbelief at once. But Germany didn't stopped his anger.

"Every day you are making this damn flags and waving them! You don't put any afford on trainings! You don't listen what I'm saying! Like you wouldn't mind, if we win or lose! And I have to constantly save you, because you always whining and crying for help! I don't need ally like that!"

Feliciano's eyes widened and two tears ran down his cheeks. But he didn't start his loud, toddler-like crying. He turned his back to Ludwig and ran forward. Seeing his friend running away with tears made Germany chill out almost at first place. His blue eyes was focused on little brown head in navy blue uniform, who was running away from him.

German bit his lip, when he realized what he had just done. He made his friend, his only real friend, cry. He yelled at him and said something that now made Feliciano probably think, they won't be friends anymore. Words: I don't need ally like that could sound like official declaration of breaking alliance, which in this situation was equal with breaking the friendship.

"Feliciano, wait!" Germany dashed to him, but Italy didn't stop running.

Soon Italian disappeared from German's eyes. Ludwig was looking after him everywhere, sensing the heaviness of guilty feeling that was growing slowly inside his chest. But he didn't have to searching long. In the end Feliciano was sitting on the rock near Germany's fence. Sun was shining, summer flowers were in full bloom, but little Feliciano on the rock bowed his head with sadness. It was really heartbreaking view – generally cheerful Italy in such depressing state. Germany gulped and came to him, wrapping his arm around friend. Italian glared at him with amazement and Ludwig could see his tears closer. He was staring at him with this brown, filled with tears and acrimony, eyes. Germany knew, he had to apologize. After few seconds of silence, when he gather the courage and found proper words, he finally said:

"I'm sorry, Feliciano. I… I just overacted."

"No, you were right. I'm hopeless ally." Was Italy's response. New tears had been formed in his big eyes. "I can't fight and I'm always running and… and…" His voice began to shake, when he buried face in hands. "And if you were in trouble, I probably couldn't help you."

"Hey, don't say such thing." Germany tried to sound nice and friendly. "You don't know, what you would do in some situation, until you will find yourself in this kind of situation. Besides," He smiled to Italy and slammed his shoulder sociable. "you aren't half bad. You just have to… practice more."

Feliciano put his (still sad) gaze on Ludwig.

"And you still want to be my friend?"

"Remember," German pointed up his little finger. "We made the Pact of Steel and that means, I'm not going to stop to be your friend. Come on, cheer up. I don't like, when you are sad."

Italian smiled lightly.

"Thanks, Ludwig."

"Let's come back to drill."

"Yes, sir!" Italy said, saluting to Germany and making him smile.

Germany hid behind some building to avoid the gunfire and another injuries. He looked at his left shoulder and carefully removed his hand from gunshot wound. From small, almost perfectly round hole in his arm, was running red river of blood. He had to block the hemorrhage as soon as possible, or he will lose too much blood. Unfortunately the medical staff was far, far away from him and they were busy with other soldiers, so he had to take care of himself on his own. He started to check for any cotton, scarf or other material to use it, but he couldn't find none.

Feliciano somehow managed to get to him, avoiding all the gunshots only by miracle. When he finally was beside Ludwig he drew out from his back white material. At first Germany thought that probably he wanted to use it to make another white flag, but German's eyes widened, when he saw the letters: I surrender, Germany.

"Hey, it's just a scratch. I don't have to surrender because of something like this." He said harshly to Feliciano, who smiled to him.

"Who's talking about surrendering, Ludwig?" Italian answered and grinned even wider.

And then he, just like that, wrapped the scarf around Germany's wounded arm and tied it tightly. Ludwig couldn't ever suppose Feliciano would have so much strength. Then Feliciano put his gaze on his patient and said happily:

"There. I told you, it can be use during the combat."

Well, maybe this white flags weren't all that bad?