"Germany! Come here! I want to show you something!"

The German inwardly groaned as his perpetually enthusiastic friend dragged him by the arm across the beach. It was way past dusk by now, and both the gently rolling sea and the sky above them were an inky black, the former now littered with sparkling stars. Germany continued to allow Italy to drag him, wondering why in the world he would wake him up at two a.m. The red-haired Italian boy practically skipped in front of him, his smile so wide the German was afraid his face might break in two.

"Italy?" The taller blonde boy spoke in a thick German accent, and the way his friend's name fell off his lips, he sounded none too happy about being woken up. Then again, the German language makes everyone speaking it sound pissed off. Maybe that was just Italy's opinion.

"Yes, Germany?" His voice was already quivering in fear of a scolding. He should've expected this, but he REALLY wanted Germany to see what was happening tonight. The German sighed as he saw his smaller companion's head turn to face him with an expression of anxiety. He wished the Italian wasn't afraid of EVERYTHING…including him.

"Why did you drag me out of my tent at two a.m. when I should be resting up for tomorrow's training?" The Italian looked down at the ground timidly, and Germany responded with an expectant look.

"Well…" Italy began, "I heard there was a meteor shower tonight, and I thought you might enjoy seeing it too." He brushed the sand underneath back and forth with his feet, as was the range of his eyes.

Germany sighed once more, this time in defeat. "If you really want me to see it, I'll stay with you." Italy squealed in delight and plopped onto the sand, though Germany was slightly exaggerating his hesitation. He would've stayed for whatever the reason. Lately, he had become so attached to the Italian more days were with him than without him, training or not. Italy refused to detach his arms from Germany's left one, and he, of course, he would complain about Italy's weakness in glomming onto him, but each scolding became less and less stern over the passing days. And besides, the boy was an attractive youth. He could've had fate assign him a worse companion.

Wait…attractive? What are you thinking, you idiot?

He couldn't help but notice how his pulse quickened when Italy offered even the slightest touch, or how when the Italian actually opened his eyes, the amber orbs sparkled in enthusiasm and naïve innocence that the German found incredibly adorable. All of his thoughts couldn't be repressed one hundred percent of the time, and often, when he was in his tent alone, his thoughts would drift to the Italian boy in a less than innocent light. He would imagine, night after night, of what it would feel like to kiss the red-haired boy. To touch him. To please him. It sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it, and he willed himself not to allow his blush to spread.

He sat down next to the Italian, and, sure enough, little dots of light began shooting across the sky. The German would glance to his right and smile as his companion watched unblinking with his mouth hung slightly open in astonishment. Germany allowed an arm to swing around the smaller boy's shoulders, and Italy instantly relaxed into his hold, his head gently, almost tentatively leaning on Germany's shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence until the shower was over, and both watched as the last glittering meteor shimmered across the heavens.

"Now we can make a wish!" Italy's grin replaced the astonished "o" his lips had been forming as he watched the show, and his eyes looked up expectantly at Germany. The German never believed in dandelions or eyelashes or shooting stars. He believed that if he wanted something done, it would happen. But as he looked into the innocent brown eyes of his friend, he felt his skepticism melt away and allowed himself to indulge in the fanciful, just for tonight.

The German nodded and closed his eyes, indicating that he was making a wish. He honestly couldn't think of anything to wish for. The sensible thing was to wish for this world to be over and for the Axis to win. The stress of being at war made Germany a little worse for wear, but at that moment, Germany wasn't thinking clearly. His arm was still draped over Italy's shoulders, and his mind was wrapped up in the young boys scent: a mixture of pasta with tomato sauce and the sweet fragrance of the island's wild flowers. For once, he listened to his heart.

I wish for Italy to be happy.

Such a simple, selfless wish, and yet, he made it. His eyes snapped open, only to be centimeters away from those oh so familiar brown ones. The Italian was so close, that Germany could feel the Italian's shaggy red hair brush against his forehead. He wanted to gasp, wanted to yell at Italy to stop invading his personal space, but he didn't. Instead, he kissed him.

The kiss was slow and soft. It was indicative that Germany had barely an idea of how to kiss, but they learned together. The blonde pressed a little more firmly into the kiss, acting more confident than he felt, and slowly, they started to explore each other's mouths with the sweet embrace of lips and tongues. Each moment seemed to last an eternity, and each touch sent tingles racing through both the countries' bodies. Eventually, their lips parted from one another, and they both stared at the other, unable to form the words that could not be expressed after so long.

"I got my wish!"

The Italian said this with such unbridled enthusiasm and so suddenly, that Germany nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound. Then, he smiled as he comprehended the meaning of Italy's words. They both lay on the beach together, the rolling of the ocean spray lulling them both into a deep, content slumber. Just before they nodded off, Italy curled up in Germany's arms, and the German kissed the top of the head bathed in red silk. Germany leaned down to tenderly whisper in his lover's ear.

"I got my wish, too."

He had that, and so much more.