"Italy, I'm home!"

Germany trudged into his home after a long day of training the troops of his army. Any other day, he would have been able to handle their mistakes and, what deemed to be, laziness. Unfortunately for both him and them, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night, so he was put on edge. His throat was killing him from how much he yelled today. His muscles screamed with ache. All he wanted to do was have a delicious dinner and get some sleep in his nice, comfortable bed.

He had just removed his shoes when he realized that Italy hadn't responded to him or came flying from around the corner for a welcome home hug like he usually would. Perhaps he actually stayed at home today. Oh, wait. He could smell pasta being made in his kitchen. Never mind the thought of Italy staying at home this evening. Maybe he didn't respond because he fell asleep by accident? With a sigh Germany shuffled toward the kitchen in search of his little friend.

When he saw Italy, he couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his lips. He crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame as he watched. Italy had his back facing him as he cooked. He had his iPod in, the music in his ears drowning out his surroundings. He danced and twirled from the stove, to the countertop, and back. Standing at the stove, he couldn't resist rotating his hips in an innocent yet seductive manner. He would pause to focus on the food for a moment before resuming his little dance session with a booty shake. Germany chuckled at the move.

Italy spun again in his dance, squeaking when he saw Germany intently observing him. He hunched over a bit in embarrassment, removing his headphones. He took the iPod from his pocket, pausing whatever song he was listening to and set the device on the countertop. He kicked his feet with his head ducked down.

"Ve…Welcome home, Germany…"

He truly disliked when Germany would see him dancing. It was one of few things that honestly embarrassed him. It was always worse when he couldn't hear Germany come up. He was left to wonder how long he'd been watched.

"Hello, Italy. What are you making?"

"Oh. Just spaghetti. I didn't bring anything with me, and it was all you had."

Germany smiled a little more, going toward the stove. He stirred the neglected noodles, glancing over at Italy. His face was flushed. Germany left the pasta on the stove, going to Italy. He placed a large hand on his frail shoulder. Italy barely looked up at him.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. I like to watch you dance."

Italy's eyes peeked open in his surprise. He wanted to speak up, ask what Germany meant by that, but was stopped before he could start. The spaghetti was almost done and needed his attention more than Germany did. He barely nodded at the blonde man, returning to his cooking.

After Italy finished the cooking and Germany had set the table for them, they sat down for dinner. For the most part it was quiet, excluding the usual exchanges of 'How was your day?', and 'Are you off tomorrow?' from Italy. Germany wasn't off tomorrow, but he was granted a day off next week, much to his relief and Italy's delight. He hadn't had a day off to relax in so long and Italy wanted to help make it the best day off ever.

Italy finished his meal first, as always, sipping at his wine while he tried to build the courage to ask what Germany meant earlier. Almost sensing that he was in the Italian's thoughts, Germany glanced up, taking a drink from his beer.

"If you want to ask me something, Italy, just ask."

"…W-what did you mean earlier, Germany? That you like to watch me dance?"

Germany hesitated in his eating, thinking of how he should respond. "Just what I said. I like to watch you."

"…But why?" Italy's voice was quieter for a reason Germany was unable to pinpoint.

Germany sighed, putting his fork down. He looked Italy straight in the eye. Suddenly, his backbone vanished. Italy's eyes were open, giving him the breathtaking sight of the gorgeous amber orbs he rarely showed to people. There was a faint blush on his cheeks that he concluded was from the wine, even though he'd only had a single glass. Italy was such a lightweight that it wasn't even funny.

"Well," he cleared his throat to try getting rid of the nervous lump, "the way you move interests me. I don't think I've ever seen anyone, man or woman, move their hips the way you do."

Italy moved his lips from his glass, eyes widening. "Really?"

"Y-yes." It was Germany's turn to blush and duck his head. He quickly jumped up from his chair, taking their dirty plates to the sink to wash them. Italy stayed in his place, eyes lingering on his crush's form for a few moments before the naughty side of his mind drew out an idea. He smiled to himself, darting from the room quietly.

"Are you going to stay the-" Germany turned around. Italy was no longer in sight. Where did he go this time? Germany glanced in the living room. Nothing. Only the abandoned shoes from earlier were in the room. He climbed the stairs going to his room. Italy has probably already curled up in there, ready to sleep. He opened the door to his room. Italy was in there alright, but he wasn't curled up in bed the way he thought.

Italy was laying on his stomach, legs raised in the air. He had changed from his own clothing and into one of Germany's button-up dress shirts. As much as Germany didn't want to admit it, the sight was turning him on.

Italy sat up on his knees. He was smiling, but it wasn't his normal smile. It was a look of…seduction? Italy was capable of that? Germany swallowed the lump in his throat, looking anywhere but straight ahead. It made Italy smile even more.

"Germany, you really like the way I dance?" His voice was huskier than usual.

"…Y-yeah. I do." What was he planning?

"Great! Maybe I won't be embarrassed to do it around you anymore!" He sprung up, giving Germany a full view of his Italian flag underwear, and took the German's hands in his. He pulled him back, turned him around, and pushed him gently on the mattress. Germany watched in high curiosity as Italy turned away from him, searching for something. He shook his head, finding his voice.

"Italy, what have I told you about wearing my clothes?"

He barely paused in his searching. "Not to wear them."

"Exactly. So what do you think you should do?" He crossed his arms. He was to talking to a grown man like a child. Something about that seemed very wrong.

"Take them off." He purred, startling Germany. He finally found what he was looking for: Germany's stereo system. He continuously hid it from him, but he finally found it. He checked the small CD inside it. It was one of America's CDs. The sharpie written on it said: Mindless Self Indulgence. Italy shrugged, turning it on and letting the music play. He smiled devilishly. He turned to Germany, playing with the ends of the shirt.

"Would you like to see me dance, Germany?"

"Um…ah, I don't think that would be appropriate…like this…" He couldn't think properly. A little voice in his mind told him that Italy was hinting at doing some sort of strip tease or something.

Italy smirked. He turned the music off with a shrug before turning to his attention to the shirt. He picked at the buttons, eventually looking up with a frown. He strutted to Germany, making sure his hips swayed, and stopped in between his legs.

"Germany, I can't get it off. Will you help me?"

"Yes. Just hold still, alright?" Germany sighed, lifting his hands to the top of the shirt. He began to un-do the buttons for him.

Looking into Germany's eyes as he concentrated, Italy lost all of the naughty ideas he had in mind. It clicked in his in his mind that he didn't just have a crush on him. He was in love with him. An unreadable expression crossed his face. He placed his hands on the sides his face, making them lock eyes. He didn't care what Germany would think of him, or what would happen after he kissed him. He just felt the impulse surging through him.

It was everything Italy had literally dreamed of, especially when Germany started kissing back. The German's hands were placed on his waist, pulling him closer. Italy never wanted the moment to end. It was just too perfect. But, as he knew all too well, all good things must come to an end. Germany pulled away, staring at Italy. His eyes darted between Italy's lips and eyes. Italy played with and stared at a section of Germany's hair as he idly rambled aloud.

"You know, when I was younger and living with Austria, I made a promise to myself. Wanna know what that promise was? I had promised that I would find someone that I could love, just like the way Hungary loved Austria. I think I finally fulfilled that promise. Do you…feel the same, Germany?"

Germany pressed their foreheads together. He gently leaned up, pressing their lips together again in softer kiss.

"Yes. I feel the same way, Italy." He whispered.

Italy smiled, closing his eyes. He hugged his love, snuggling into him. He mumbled something that sounded like: "Ve! I'm so happy!". With a smile, Germany pulled Italy against him, laying them down in the bed comfortably. He pulled the blanket over them. He noticed Italy's breathing had already changed. He smiled as soft "ve"s came from the sleeping form in his arms. He kissed his lover's head, finally falling asleep after his long day.

.::Author's Note::.

I have a feeling a sequel for this will have to be written soon…maybe Italy can do what he wanted to in that one ;D

Please check out my other Hetalia stories! And review. Reviews make me super happy and get me to write sooner :]