What Am I to You?

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, me no own.

A/N: De-anon from the kink meme – the prompt ran thusly:

'I don't play Halo but I was watching this movie with my brother and the first scene just resonated Germany/Italy to me. Probably while Italy is seriously wounded during WWII and Germany is taking care of him. Anything based of this conversation would be much appreciated, adapting it to the Hetalia universe.

http :/ www . dailymotion . com/video/ xctyej_halo legends-prototype_ shortfilms'

Take out the spaces in the link. Apologies if this is a breach of meme etiquette.

September 1943

'Ve…Doitsu…'

Rain pattered softly on the waterproof jackets of the soldiers and the canvas stretched over the burnt-out tank, creating a soothing fuzz of white noise into which one could sink like a hot bath.

'Doitsu?'

A sigh. It was always impossible to ignore Italy forever.

'Yes?'

'Don't you think the…the leaves look pretty…at this time of year? When they're just beginning to turn a little bit round the edges, and it's still warm and sunny and everything's all green with just a bit of gold and crispiness over it and it almost looks like it's about to be some new kind of summer, and not winter at all?' Italy breathed out softly and leaned back into Germany's arm, his elbows sinking a few millimetres deeper into the mud.

Germany didn't answer. Face tight, he lent a little further forward, so that he could press down with his full weight on the bleeding gash across Italy's belly.

'I never really liked cold…wet stuff…preferred summer when it's all sunny, but now I think…I like the rain. Sun gets blotted out, you know, when there's and smoke, but the rain keeps on falling, and if a shell lands close to a tree, just as long as it doesn't land on it, the tree just carries on…I don't know, tree-ing…'

'Feliciano.' The corner of Germany's mouth twisted in a harder grimace than normal, the only sign of turmoil he would betray. 'Be quiet now.' Your rambling's frightening me. You're not normally this vague… 'The bleeding's slowing down…I think…but you need to save your strength until the medics get here.'

'They're not coming, Ludi.' Italy gave a more drained, blackened smile than was his wont. 'Haven't you learned yet; they run away like true…Italian…' He gave a shudder, and Germany pulled him impulsively closer, trying again, vaguely, to arrange his jacket better between him and the cold, wet ground. 'I'll be okay,' he soothed. 'Guess we'll just sit back and wait for the Allies to turn up…hnn, maybe you'd better get out of here…'

'Not yet.' Germany's hand tightened on Italy's upper arm. Possessive or protective? Italy closed his eyes and let himself be cradled against the broad, muscular body that had always handled most of the fighting, wondering. Troops getting pushed back off all the land they'd gained over the past three years…the two of them, in all likelihood about to be torn apart after all that drill and spending time together…he knew which mattered more to him.

Personally he'd never been all that fussed about the troops and the land.

'Ludi…?' he asked. Hearing his own voice distracted him for a moment – it sounded surprisingly faint and distant – but he persevered. 'What am I to you?'

'Don't talk. Just hang in there.'

'Why did you want to be my ally? Why are you here now? What am I…to you?'

Germany grinned briefly. 'I explained that to Austria right back at the start. The more allies the merrier, ja? A good soldier never leaves a man behind. And you're my soldier. Remember our training? Nothing is more important than the soldiers; you have to value your men. You've always been a good ally…'

'I'm a lousy soldier, Germany,' Italy said. 'Admit it.' He sighed and turned his face into Germany's chest, breathing in the smells of fresh-laundered uniform, gunpowder, musky sweat and rich clay earth freshly turned by hundreds of pairs of hobnailed boots. 'What use was I in the war?'

Germany hesitated. 'You have useful resources…'

'Like what?' Germany opened his mouth to respond, but Italy simply let his eyes fall shut, and when he spoke again he had changed the subject.

'Ve…sorry, Ludi, but I'm glad it's over…except I suppose your boss'll be tussling back and forth over this territory for a while yet…not looking forward to that…'

'I won't let – ' Germany checked himself. It wasn't up to the spirit of the nation to tell a boss, and particularly a dictator, what he could and couldn't do. There was a part of Germany that was as frightened of the Fuhrer as the average Jew. 'Italia, I wish there was another way.'

Suddenly Italy's wide, hazel-flecked eyes were open again, gazing up at him. His hand moved of its own accord to brush a strand of hair away from his old ally's face, and it felt so natural that he didn't trouble to stop it.

'Couldn't you tell me…' Italy whispered.

'You need to keep strong –'

'No, it's over. You need to be strong. Tell me what I am to you.'

Germany sighed in defeat, stroking Italy's face in earnest now. 'I suppose…you're the one who reminded me that the war wasn't the only thing. That rain and leaves and trees are beautiful, and maybe they're more important than strategies, and they'll be there still when our silly little conflict has been completely forgotten…' He bent, leaning his forehead against Italy's, an admission of weariness.

'Grazie…' Italy whispered.

Germany chuckled once. 'Maybe we should all just eat pasta and be happy,' he said. 'Oh well. Better brace up; the Fuhrer won't like this.'

Five careful minutes later, he had succeeded in moving Italy, without too much pain or damage, under cover of the tarpaulin. It bore at least some resemblance to a 'warm and un-disrupted recovery area out of the line of fire,' and, as he performed a little more first-aid on his comrade before preparing to flee, he could pretend not to notice the glitter of enemy guns marshalling on the horizon.

Fin

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Ciao!

True xxx