Cross-posted from Hentai Contest

[kiramaru7]

Title: Awkward Love
Fandom: Hetalia
Author: kira
Chars/Pairs: Germany/Italy
Genres: romance
Warnings: none
Word Count: 666
Summary: Italy slips into Germany’s bed in the middle of the night…
Author’s notes: Special thanks to my beta, Jen, for looking it over and giving me a title
Translation notes: According to Google translate, “Ich liebe dich, mein Liebling” is German for “I love you, my darling.” According to mystofthestars “Ti amo anch'io, Germania” is Italian for “I love you too, Germany.” Thank you for pointing that out! *it's much appreciated*


Germany hugged his pillow, snoring softly as he slept. He dreamt of pretty auburn haired fräuleins in various stages of undress, who plied him with bratwurst and potatoes. One little cutie with short hair who was dressed in nothing more than a frilly apron fed him pasta. He had been having dreams like this all summer, which he totally blamed on the stack of girly magazines hidden under his bed.

Down the hall, Italy slept as peacefully as he could in the guest room, as he was feeling cold. Naked, Italy shivered as he curled up into a little ball, the night having gone cool thanks to a summer rain shower. He wondered if he should get dressed and close the window, or just tough it out like his best friend Germany would. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, Italy was out of bed. He quickly found his undershirt and boxers, and pulled them on. Getting back into bed, he still felt cold. There was only one thing he could think of to get warm, so he left the guest room and headed down the hallway to Germany’s room. Opening the door, he slipped inside and since Germany was always very warm when he slept, he quickly stripped down to his skin again.

Germany slept on, occasionally muttering softly to his dream fräuleins. He rolled over just as Italy got into bed and snuggled up to him. Throwing an arm around his little buddy, Germany whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Italy giggled; his best friend was so funny at times. The good thing was, Germany was very warm and it felt good to be enveloped in that warmth. It was not long before Italy was also asleep. They cuddled through the night, blissfully unaware of the limbs that twined together in the warmth of their bed.

Italy woke up the next morning with Germany spooned in behind him and his arm thrown protectively around him. What Italy found surprising was the morning wood that was nestled between his naked buttocks and the way his best friend would move ever so slightly in his sleep in a very suggestive manner. Germany could not be dreaming about that, could he? When his best friend moaned softly in his ear as he rubbed against him, Italy could not help crying out.

Germany finally woke up. He yawned, slowly cracking open an eye, and saw a mass of messy auburn hair. Thinking it was his dream girl, Germany kissed her shoulder. “Ich liebe dich, mein Liebling,” he murmured softly.

“Ve, Germany...?”

Germany froze. “Italy…?” He was suddenly very conscious of how nicely his little sausage was nestled in Italy’s bottom.

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing here?” Germany asked. He could not believe he was still holding onto his little buddy, but a part of him really did not want to let go.

“Ummm…” Italy had slept naked in his bed before, but this was different. His best friend was kissing him, holding him close, and probably asking him to make love, if that certain part of Germany’s anatomy that was wedged between his butt cheeks was any indication. Italy had told him he only liked girls, but no girl had ever wrapped him in such strong, capable arms. Or let him hug him as much as Germany did, or baked him cakes when he trained hard. Italy sighed. Maybe he did love Germany as much as the big lug loved him. Everyone knew Germany was not good with words unless he was barking orders, but he tried and their disastrous Saint Valentine’s Day was certainly proof of that. “Because…?”

“Oh….” Germany was glad his little buddy could not see how red his face was. He also found it very hard to let go of him.

“Ti amo anch'io, Germania,” Italy aid softly. And when his best friend relaxed, Italy carefully wiggled around to face him. Smiling impishly, he said, “Ti amo!” He kissed Germany’s cheek.

“Ich liebe dich...”