The Only Person He…

Author's Note: Ger/Ita fluff appears to be my crack. Forgive me if your brain explodes. This one has a bit of drama compared to the other two I've written, though. I want to note that because I can't remember any indication of the different country's houses being in different time zones in the show, I wrote it as if they are all in the same general time zone. Someone please correct me with a beating if I am wrong about this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, or its characters, nor do I profit from this story.

Insufferable.

That was a perfect description, Germany thought. Italy and all his quirks, antics, and tendencies to do nothing of any help for their cause…it was all insufferable.

It was not that Germany hated Italy, they were good friends and all, but he certainly grated on Germany's nerves. They were at war with the Allies…sometimes Germany wondered if Italy even knew what that meant. Despite their situation, Italy always appeared as happy as he could be, running after cats, making pasta and white flags, not a single care in the whole wide world…

What was going on in that head of his? Anything?

Germany sighed. Today was a particularly busy, miserable day; one that had seen to it he was backed up with tons of paperwork and messes to break apart. Italy was not even present at the moment and he was distracting Germany from his work. That was the one saving grace was Italy's absence. Germany would surely be working well into the night with all he had to do, and did not want to imagine how much further he would be backed up if Italy were there.

"Doitsu!" came a familiar voice from behind him, one of vexing cheerfulness. Germany had not even heard him come in; he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Italia…"

"Romano kicked me out of the house again! So I came to see Doitsu!" Italy's excited voice continued behind him.

"I…I'm very busy today, Italia…can you go outside?" Germany asked calmly, laying down his pen.

"Not by myself! What if England is out there? I might fall into a hole again! And what if I can't tie my shoes?" Italy popped up on Germany's side, giving him a pitiful expression. Germany rolled his eyes, a light blush now dusting his cheeks. Sometimes, when he gave Germany those looks, he could only think…adorable…no matter how annoyed he was.

"Alright…go play with the dogs…they'll be happy to see you…" Germany stopped what he was saying, remembering last time Italy had 'played with the dogs'. After an hour or so Germany had come back in to check on them and…

"HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO DESTROY MY LIVING ROOM IN AN HOUR?"

"Veee…"

"Um, ahem, nevermind…" Germany huffed.

"You don't want me to play with them then?" Italy asked, only perplexed.

"Nein…go make us lunch. I'll take a break to eat when it's ready…" Germany suggested. That would keep Italy away, at least for a little while. Food always would.

Easily distracted, Italy perked up. "Ve! I'll make us pasta for lunch!"

"What a surprise…" Germany went back to writing a report on weaponry as Italy glided from the room. His focus had returned now, and it finally felt like Germany was making progress. But naturally, ten minutes would be all it took…

A scream, then a crash from the kitchen and Germany rocketed out of his chair and toward the kitchen. "Italy better be on fire…" he growled aloud as he stomped toward the cry of horror. However, Italy was not on fire. Instead, Germany's kitchen floor was a sea of half cooked pasta and hot water, the source coming from a large pot that was now on the floor, all in front of a small, shaking Italian who was standing on a chair to avoid the mess.

"Doitsu! Doitsuuu! Mi dispiace! I was trying to move the big pot to the better burner when I saw a butterfly outside the window and I-I-I-I forgot to hold onto the pot and it f-fell on the floor!"

"Why were you making so much you couldn't hold the pot?"

"I'm…re-really hungry…"

"Calm down…" Germany tried to tell him, but Italy continued to go on about how sorry he was. A sigh escaped Germany once more. "Calm down! We will clean this up!"

"Ve?" Italy paused in what he was saying, smiling at Germany. "O-ok!"

An hour of Germany's precious work time was spent cleaning up the mess, but at least now Germany's kitchen was once again an unnatural level of sparkling clean. He rolled down his sleeves, grumbling incoherently as Italy hopped up to him.

"Veee! It's all clean now! But all the pasta…" Italy looked as if he may cry as he thought about the pasta strewn across the floor, no longer able to be eaten…

"It will be fine…find something else to make. I must get back to-"

"No, we have to go get more! I promised Doitsu we would have pasta for lunch!"

"…I really don't care. I'd rather have wurst anyway-"

"But pastaaaa!" Italy argued, as if just stating it made it unarguable. Germany's eyebrow twitched.

"I do not have time to be taking you so we can buy more pasta…"

"Please? I'll make it the best pasta Doitsu's ever had! The very best!"

Germany knew there was no winning with it. He could not help but give in when Italy insisted like that. Italy cheered excitedly as Germany pushed Italy out the door, grabbing his own coat. Of course, Germany could only pray that the trip to get pasta would prove uneventful, and they would return in a short amount of time.

Italy was babbling on about…something, as Germany was not paying attention, when France jumped out from an alleyway.

"Aa, Italia! Today you shall become a French territory!" France declared, swooping in on little Italy, a lustful gleam in his eyes. Italy only tilted his head in confusion. "You'll enjoy it! I-"

Without warning, Germany had punched France square in the face, launching him to the ground. France shouted various muffled curses and held his face in pain as Germany grabbed Italy's wrist and dragged him by, heading to the store.

"You hit France-niichan really hard…" Italy noted as he let Germany pull him along.

"I don't have time for his nonsense." Germany responded moodily. The two arrived in the general store, Germany bought whatever pasta Italy wanted (arguing would only take longer), and they left, Germany hauling Italy at his fast pace for the entire trip home.

"Ve, Doitsu is pushy and manly today…" Italy commented, still being lugged along as he was pulled in the front door.

"Now, go make the pasta, and don't spill anything this time!" Germany ordered in a strict tone. Italy saluted him with the wrong hand and skittered off to the kitchen to get started. Finally…Germany went to his office and got back to work.

-Later-

After a while that did not feel long enough, Italy popped his head in the office doorway. "Pasta's ready!" He called to Germany, waving excitedly.

"Italia…could you bring it here, so I can continue to work on this? I have already lost a lot of time…" Germany did not look back to Italy, speaking distractedly and only continuing to fill out his report as he spoke.

"Doitsu said…he would eat with Italia…" Italy pouted. Germany rubbed his forehead in aggravation.

"Alright…you can eat in here…if you're quiet and do not make-"

"Yaho~~!" Italy cheered, vanishing from the doorway. Germany was now wondering if he had made a mistake…

Italy returned, two plates of steaming pasta in hand, presenting one to Germany. Smelling the food made Germany's stomach growl, and he ate a few bites. He couldn't help but admit that Italy's cooking was one thing that never failed him. After another bite Germany got back to work. Italy sat on the end of the large desk, hastily eating his own food. Done in record time, Italy was ready for more, and assumed Germany would be too, but turned to see that Germany had not even finished half of his.

"Veee, is it not good?" Italy asked Germany with the look of a confounded puppy.

"Nein, it's good. I am just busy…"

"You have to finish it before it gets cold!" Italy put his plate down, going and grabbing Germany's fork. He scooped up a large portion of pasta and held it close to Germany's face so he would eat it. "Ne, ne? Eat it, eat it!"

Germany glanced down as he saw sauce dripping on his report. He was twitching with fury as he quickly took the bite of pasta to prevent any more damage. This page would now have to be started over.

"That's better! Ve, isn't it delicious? This is one of my favorite pasta recipes…" Italy sighed happily as he wandered off to get more. "Finish it all so I can get you more too!"

Ignoring this request, Germany started copying down the ruined report over on a new piece of paper. His insides hurt as he tried to contain his anger on how behind he was with the report now. Italy had no comprehension on how important this was…it was infuriating!

Italy returned with more pasta, happily returning to his spot on the end of the desk to eat it. He stopped, however, when he saw Germany had not eaten anymore.

"Doitsu! You have to eat! It's important to stay strong!" Italy insisted, pouting adorably at the blonde man. Germany only glared at the look Italy was giving him.

"I have to finish this…"

"Veee, Doitsu works too much, he should play soccer with me instead!" Italy suggested as he started to eat his own pasta.

"This is very important."

"When we finish eating, we should go play soccer before it gets dark! The weather is perfect, too perfect to stay inside!" Italy continued as if Germany had not said anything, kicking his feet in the air just above the floor.

"Italia, please, I do not have time to play anything today. My boss needs these reports back right away…" Germany tried to explain.

"Your boss works you too hard! Soccer will clear your mind and prepare you for more work!" Italy leaned back as he stated this, tapping a tall stack of papers that were sitting behind him. This small tap was all it took to send the papers flying, scattering them all over the surface of the desk, and gliding off the desk and onto the floor. Germany simply stared at the mess, mouth agape in horror. These papers, that Germany had worked on all yesterday and all night and again today were on the floor…as were, he felt, all of his hopes and dreams of finishing anytime that night. It had taken him hours to organize them just perfectly. Italy merely looked confused again.

"…ve? Oh, Doitsu…sorry…" he apologized, looking at the papers. He hopped off the desk to get up and help Germany pick them up, but jumped back when Germany stood from his seat so quickly he almost knocked the chair over onto the floor. Then, he slammed his hands onto the desk so hard it felt like he had shaken the entire room. "…D-Doitsu?"

"GET OUT, ITALIA!" Germany shouted at Italy without looking up. He was trembling with blind rage over the events of the day, and he did not even want to look at Italy.

"But, Doitsu…"

"How many times do I have to tell you for you to get it through your thick skull that I have work I have to get done!" Germany, with a deep breath, stood up straight and turned to Italy, a fierce look in his eyes. "Just because you can laze about all day does not mean I can!"

"But I-" Italy's eyes were lining with tears as he tried to find a response.

"I have a lot of work to do and it is all very important! What is it you do not understand about that?"

"I was just…"

"All you do is waste my time with your ridiculous games! We are in the middle of a war! Until you can stop being so useless, I want you out of my sight!"

"But I…I'm trying…and…" Italy held himself as he started shaking with tears he was trying to hold in. Turning away quickly from Germany, he staggered out, not saying anything else. The front door could be heard opening and closing as he left. Dead silence filled the room as Germany stared off after him. It had felt good to finally yell at Italy and tell him how angry he was. But this was quickly changing. Relief was becoming regret and guilt. A fleeting thought flew by in his mind, to go after Italy and apologize. Germany's eyes moved down from the doorway to the papers on the floor; they reminded him of his responsibilities. There was no time for running after Italy, as Germany still had a lot to get done, and he placed the lingering feelings in the back of his mind. Reordering the pile of papers would take a lot more time that Germany did not have. He got started on it right away.

-A few days pass…-

It had taken a few days, but Germany managed to catch up in his surplus of work. He came in his front door, letting out a huge sigh, then a yawn. Home had never looked more pleasing and welcoming.

But…

Germany was not as relieved and happy as he hoped he would feel. Something felt missing. He trudged to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. Walking in, he glimpsed at the table, stopping at the doorway.

Somehow, the lack of an Italian sitting at it, overly excited to greet him home was…

He shook it off. Germany was going to relax tonight. Just because he had not heard from Italy in a few days did not mean anything except that he was probably still a little mad at Germany, and busy with other things. Checking on Italy tomorrow was the plan, and he should stick to that.

In the fridge sat a large box of beer in glass bottles. Germany pulled out one of the frosty bottles, and went to get the bottle opener. The top popped off when he pushed the opener down and it made Germany smile; he had always loved that sound. He wandered to his living room to lounge on the couch and rest. With a plomp, he sank into the cushion.

His thoughts went back to…why was he thinking about him? It was nice not to have him around once in a while, was it not?

"But I…I'm trying…and…"

The image had thrust itself into Germany's mind unwanted. Italy, red in the face, tears forming in his chocolate eyes. He had seemed…devastated…but…nothing he wouldn't get over in a few hours when he saw pasta or some cute girl. Right? Right. Having a night without such a bothersome man to be insisting on playing games or getting hugs or any of those other silly things Italy was always doing should be peaceful. He always thought it would be. …Italy was fine, wherever he was. Surely.

"Until you can stop being so useless, I want you out of my sight!"

Then again…Germany was thinking, maybe his words…maybe they had been a little harsh. Useless…Germany did not really think Italy was useless…he could certainly cook. Italy was not much on the battlefield, but he could paint and play music, and he could even sing well…and he was a good friend.

Yes…a good friend. One of his only friends. Germany blushed lightly as he felt an iron grip around his heart. A frown formed. Suddenly, he thought… 'Doitsu is not such a good friend, is he?'

Cold fingers. Germany looked down, and saw he was still holding the beer he had not even taken a sip of yet. His eyes closed as he stood from the comfortable couch. His body has not wanted to move from it, but his mind was restless with worry. Just…just a phone call, just one call to Italy's house to make sure he was there. Italy was so clumsy and naïve…Germany needed to at least make sure he was safe…as his ally and all.

Making his way to the phone in his office, Germany sat at the desk, putting down his beer on a coaster and dialing Italy's number. He realized his heart was pounding as the phone rang on the other end, but did not have time to reflect on the thought as the line was picked up.

"OI! Who's this?" The voice on the other end sounded enraged.

"…Romano. Let me speak with Italia."

"Errrrrrrrgh…Macho Potato! Why are you calling here now? Why now? What are you even talking about?"

"…..excuse me?"

"Veneziano left for your house days ago! Isn't he still there?"

Germany froze. Italy had not been home since leaving from Germany's house. But then, where did he go?

"Romanooo…" A voice came from the background on Romano's end. It sounded like an ecstatic Spain. "Aren't you coming back to beeed?"

"BASTARD, I'll come back when I'm ready!" Romano shouted back. "Urgh…I'vegottago…" he mumbled this last bit shyly, then slammed down the phone, hanging up on Germany.

Germany's mind was panicking a bit as he tried to think of where else Italy would have gone. What if he had been captured? France had tried to claim Italy just that day…what if Italy had run into him again, this time…alone? Horrible, embarrassing situations sprang up in Germany's head and he grabbed the phone angrily, dialing France's number.

"Allo?" France answered on the other end. "France speaking."

"France!" Germany growled into the phone, causing France to jump.

"Doitsu!" France shouted in fear. "Wh-what do you want?"

"If I find out you have so much looked at Italy funny…"

"What? After you punched me the other day, I haven't left my house! You massacred my beautiful face! I can't go out in public until it heals!" France raged at Germany over the phone.

"So he's not there then?" Germany sighed.

"I just told you, I-!..." France paused, seeming to be contemplating. "…aw, you're worried about him!"

"You…what?"

"You don't know where he is! And you're flustered, I can tell!"

"I'm not flustered!" Germany argued in a fury, sounding completely and totally flustered.

"Poor Doitsu, having lost his little Italia…"

"Urgh…you…you…"

"Ahahaha! Revenge is sweet! Do you miss all those hugs he gives you? And his warmth at night?"

"GO TO HELL, FRANCE!" Germany slammed down the phone, holding his face in his free hand. He was shaking. "That…that bastard…" Germany did not have time to worry about France's words, as much as they stung (he was not sure how France could have known he shared a bed with Italy, though with Italy as open as he was, he wouldn't be surprised if he had told him at some point). Maybe one of the Allies captured him…but he could not think of a reason they would, after they had angrily sent him back in that box last time. Then that left… "Of course! Nihon! Why didn't I think of it sooner?"

The phone rang…and rang…and rang…Germany was beginning to get nervous. But then, an answer.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Nihon!" Germany tried his best not to sound too excited. "I need to ask you…is Italia with you?"

"Oh, hai. I'm so glad you called, Doitsu." Japan told him, Germany's heart leaped for joy. Italy was safe.

"Good, I was wondering where he had gotten to…"

"What on earth did you do to him?"

"…was?" Germany asked in his native language.

"Italia has been here with me…he says that you yelled at him…"

"I…always yell at him…" Germany felt a bit sick admitting that…and he knew that this time, his yelling at him was completely different than any normal yelling at him.

"Well…he seems to be taking whatever you said hard…he thinks you hate him…"

"That's ridiculous, I don't-"

"Oh, here he is…" Japan turned away from the phone and could be heard asking something Germany could not catch. After a moment, Japan returned to the phone. "Italia says…he won't talk to you."

"…won't…?" Germany swallowed hard, and his chest was tight.

"Please, come talk to him. He's barely eating…"

"Barely eating?" This was the most shocking. "Not even pasta?"

"Well, he's eating a little pasta…it's the only thing he has eaten…but it's still not much…"

"He's barely touching pasta?"

"Please come to see him at your quickest convenience." This was Japan's polite way of pleading with Germany.

"Ja…I'll come first thing tomorrow…it's already late here, and I'm exhausted."

"That will be fine. I'll take care of him until then."

"Danke, Nihon."

"It's no problem. Ja ne." Japan hung up. Germany placed the phone down. His insides were churning as the conversation played through his head again. He tried to calm down. The beer still sitting beside him now appeared more appetizing than ever, and he chugged it down, followed by a huge "Aaah~!". He wiped his mouth with his wrist as he stood. It was time to go to bed. He planned to leave early to go to Japan's house and apologize to Italy.

As Germany prepared for bed, the conversation with Japan was still playing through his mind, mixing in with flashbacks of the other night, when he had yelled at Italy. Going through the paces of getting ready to go to sleep were done thoughtlessly as his mind was preoccupied with his guilt. From the bathroom to the bedroom, Germany let down his hair. He paused in the doorway, looking at the bed. The last few nights, he had been so exhausted, the thought that he was sleeping alone for the first time in weeks had not occurred to him. Now, however, the bed looked painfully empty. Clicking off the light to the room, he got in the bed, covering himself with the blanket. He stared at the empty spot beside him.

The bed felt cold…

Germany closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. After a few minutes of this, though, he already knew he would not be able to. His regret was too much to bear. Italy was the only person to ever care about him so much. As far back as Germany could remember, he had always been alone. The other countries did not like his strict attitude and serious demeanor…sure, he had his brother, but he was only frustrating with his inflated ego…Prussia was only good for having a drink with every once in a while. Austria was snobbish to him, and only around because Germany had annexed him. Japan was a good ally…but you never knew what he was thinking, after all. And…that was it. Then there was Italy, that despite how cold Germany might be, or strict, or how hard he might run Italy in training, was still always running back to him with tight hugs and smiles. And now Germany had completely pushed him away. The only person he…

Realization punched Germany in the stomach, and he sat up, the word still ringing in his mind. He stood, then went to the closet. In a flash, Germany was dressed and out the door.

-At Japan's House-

"Meow?"

Italy looked down from where he was sitting on the front porch at Japan's house. It was dark, the early hours of morning, but Italy could still spot the black and white cat sitting at his feet. Italy had not been sleeping well either, along with not eating well. A small smile formed on his lips as he reached to the cat to pick it up. He sat the cat in his lap, petting its fur.

"Ve…you're soft, gatto…" Italy told the cat quietly. The cat purred lovingly as Italy pet him.

…crack!

Italy's eyes opened and flickered upward, out into the darkened yard. Someone was in the shadows of the trees, walking up the stone path toward him. Italy had been reading a lot of manga since arriving at Japan's house to distract him from the reason he was there. And now, was one of them coming true?

"NIHON! IT'S A NINJA! A NINJA IS COMING TO KILL ME AND GATTO!" Italy screamed in horror, starting to cry. This terrified the cat in his lap and it jumped off into the darkness toward where the noises had been coming from. "NO, GATTO! HE'LL KILL YOU! DON'T RUN THAT WAY!"

Out of the shadows stepped 'the ninja'. Germany had a dead look on his face as he walked up, holding the cat. He had thrown on a tank top and pants, and had not bothered to slick back his hair.

"Italia…i-it's me…" Germany sighed out.

"…Doitsu…" Italy was obviously shocked to see him. There was no time for either of them to say anymore, however, as Japan burst out the front door, yanking out his sword and pointing it at Germany threateningly. The fierce look in his usually emotionless eyes died out after a moment, realizing who was standing at the other end of his katana. Standing out of his attack stance, he sheathed the katana, hanging it to his side.

"Oh…gomen, Doitsu…my deepest apologies…" Japan made a slight bow to Germany. "…I assume you two would like to talk…" Germany nodded at this, and Japan went back inside. Italy was staring up at Germany now, tears lining his eyes.

"W-why are you here?" Italy asked, choking on his words. "I-I don't want to...to see you…" The tone of Italy's voice said otherwise. Germany remained silent as he sat down by Italy with the cat, who was now purring once more. Italy continued, looking away from Germany. "I'm not going to b-bother you anymore, or get in your way…" Italy sniffled.

Germany placed the cat on the ground, much to the cat's dismay. It wandered off to find something to eat. The next thing Italy knew, muscular arms wrapped around him. Germany had grabbed Italy into a tight hug and pulled him close.

"I realized just a few hours ago that I love you. And as soon as I did, I came straight here to tell you." Germany's face was now turning redder and redder. He had only been able to say these things because he had practiced saying them a few thousand times on his way there. "I don't care how you feel about it, or if you hate me now, or if you never want to see me again…I at least had to tell you." This was the extent Germany was going to be able to get out, his stomach now in knots. He was not cut out for such open expressions of feeling.

It appeared, for the first time Germany could ever remember, Italy was left completely speechless. Brown, teary eyes were only staring up at Germany as if he were absolutely crazy. Germany let go of the hug and coughed. "So I'm…I'm sorry…and stuff…for what I said-"

"I love you too, Doitsu…I do!" Italy announced to the world. He grabbed hold of Germany's arm and hugged it tight. "I'm so happy you love me!" Italy smiled wide for the first time in days. Germany smiled too, unable to stop himself.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you…I didn't mean those things I said…I was under a lot of stress…you're not useless…it's just that you're not made for war, and there's nothing wrong with that…"

"I can make white flags! Those are useful, ve?"

"Um…no…but…you're an artist, not a fighter…so I guess they're useful for…you…" Germany closed his eyes. "I still want you to train, so you can protect yourself…but…I'll protect you, Italia…" His embarrassment was evident in his words at trying to continue to be affectionate. In his mind, he was failing miserably.

"I'll leave Doitsu alone when he's working from now on, so he can get it done and we can play soccer." Italy insisted, nuzzling the arm he had.

"I appreciate that…but we can take more breaks from now on too…" Germany patted the Italian that was attached to his arm on the head. "We'll eat together…"

"Veee…pasta…" Italy giggled.

Just then, Japan popped his head out of the front door. "So…are we all good now? I am going to make us breakfast…"

"Breakfast! I want pizza for breakfast, one this big!" Italy held out his arms as far as they would go.

"N-Nihon!" Germany blurted out in embarrassment. "Were you listening that whole time?"

After analyzing the situation, Japan decided not to speak. Italy jumped up and ran to Japan, hugging him. Japan trembled in embarrassment as Italy let go of him, a light blush on his face. "I've t-told you not to do that!" He held his heart like an old man and sighed, calming down.

"Nihon, Nihon! Doitsu loves me!" Italy shouted joyfully. Japan smiled lightly when Italy told him this.

"Hai…I already knew that a long time ago. You did not have to tell me."

"N-nein, I said no such thing!"

"He said he loves me, and he'll protect me!"

"There's no proof of that!"

"I'm going to go call niichan! And France-niichan!" Italy continued, ignoring Germany's objections.

"DON'T YOU CALL THAT WINE GUZZLING BASTARD SAYING SUCH THINGS!"

Italy ran into the house past Japan, laughing. "Nihon, where is the phone?"

"ITALIA!"

Fin.

Poor Germany…XD! Hopefully, he won't kill his little Italian so soon after confessing his feelings…