(A/N): Okay, the APH fandom has officially intimidated me. I just pray to God that this fluffy canon fic doesn't get hammered by China's wok fryer… Anyway, here's a short Germany/Italy comical oneshot. Hope you enjoy!
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» B E D T I M E . R H Y M E «
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Italy has hit his head in the middle of the night and decides to venture into the depths of Germany's bedroom.
o ― ― ― » G e r m a n y / I t a l y « ― ― ― o
Hoppe, hoppe, Reiter, wenn er faellt, dann schreit er.
(Bounce, bounce, horse rider, if he falls, he'll scream.)
The brief clunking sound of Italy's skull hit the old wooden planks of his bedroom as he tumbled to the ground in a heap, dragging his clean white sheets along with him as he fell.
He let out a short babyish holler as he landed onto the splintering floor. He sniffled and sobbed in the darkness as he motioned a hand upwards to feel his head. And, to his demise, a large lump was already forming as it pulsated and pounded against his soft, delicate head.
Sniveling and blubbering, he rose from the ground, his cold, bare feet already freezing and turning numb.
He turned to look back at his bed, which had now gone cold without the warmth of a body snuggled atop between its mattress and pillows. He pondered for a minute, wondering what to do.
A cold bed wasn't very welcoming to sleep in, as the chills would keep him from going back to sleep…
Without thinking too much long, he stumbled towards the small crack of light that emanated from the hallway.
As he pulled the door open, another identical door lay right before him in his vision of view. His eyebrows rose with immense hope, and a happy, endearing smile creased across his face as he immediately crossed the hallway and over towards the other door. He did not bother to contemplate whether or not to intrude whatever lay beyond the door, as he knew exactly what (or rather, who) was on the other side.
Faellt er in den Graben, fressen ihn die Raben.
(If he falls into the ditch, the ravens will eat him.)
He gently turned the rusted brass knob of the door and slowly pulled the door open, gradually letting in streams of small light from the hallway enter the dark, quiet room. As soon as the room was fully illuminated, Italy could see a somewhat robust figure tucked snugly within his sheets.
His face was to the side, and his broad shoulders covered his face from any light the hallway had to offer.
Immediately recognizing this familiar figure, Italy's impish smile broadened and a sense of relief, happiness, and comfort flushed all throughout the pores and veins of his own body.
"Germany! Germany!" he suddenly shrieked in an overtly cheerful sing-song tune.
Italy's impudent cries immediately awoke the sleeping shape from his slumber. And instead of flinching and jolting up in surprise, he tightened a firm grip across his pillow and shrunk in between the sheets of his bed, as if preparing for a hard blow to the stomach.
…He knew who was there.
Italy, clearly oblivious to Germany's body language, continued to keep yelling his ally's name.
"Germany, Germany, Germannee-!"
As soon as he took a step into Germany's bedroom however, his foot had stepped onto a loose floorboard, causing it to give way and leave a gaping black hole for Italy's carefree foot to fall into. Unbalanced and being the klutzy country he was, Italy descended, his face falling, again, on the ground and making another clonking noise.
His foot, being snagged in the bottomless pit down below, was stuck in between the skinny pieces of floorboards. His thrust his arms up and waved them up and down in a butterfly-stroke motion, flapping them like an injured bird.
"Waaah! Germany, Germany! Help me! Help mee!"
Apparently, Germany's name was now being yelled aloud with desperation, as opposed to saying his name with glee like Italy had been doing a few seconds ago before he'd come tumbling down.
Faellt er in den Sumpf, dann macht der Reiter plumps.
(If he falls into the swamp, then the rider will go plop.)
Sighing, Germany finally decided to lift himself up and sit, his eyes immediately blinded by all the light from the hallway. His eyes then pinpointed a flailing Italy, whose head was smooshed against the wooden planks. Although his whimpering cries and muffled pleas were incoherent, it didn't take an intelligent country to understand that the noise wasn't going stop until someone helped him.
With a distressed and indignant frown on his face, a groggy Germany kicked off his bed sheets and wobbled over to Italy, who was still as hyper as ever.
He managed to grab hold of both of Italy's flapping arms and began to pull them.
"Wawawawa-!" sputtered a frightful Italy, whose foot was clearly in pain from Germany's harsh pulling.
Almost within seconds, Italy's caught foot had sailed up into the air, free and completely dirty (because who knew how long it had been since Germany had remodeled his house). Germany, however, had pulled with such uncontrollable force that he'd managed to pull Italy along with him, both of them toppling onto the nice, cushioned mattress of Germany's bed.
Italy – now free of being stuck in one place for an eternity – had returned to his usual happy-go-lucky state and was smiling and laughing merrily right beside a very irritated (and somewhat pissed-off) Germany, whose ear was the victim of Italy's gratefulness.
"Thank you Germanee-!" Italy cried, his voice extending the last syllable of his name. "I thought I was a sure goner when my foot got stu-!"
"Go to sleep." Germany cut in, already annoyed with having to deal with Italy even at night. He moved himself over towards his pillow and was about to close his eyes before…-!
"Can I sleep with you?"
"W-Wha-?" His eyes had immediately popped open with wide-eyed embarrassment as he jerked upright. He was clearly flabbergasted by Italy's question.
"But…we're friends!" Italy interjected a saddened and disappointed expression on his face.
Germany hesitated after Italy's innocent (yet true) remark.
"S-So? It's weird."
He could feel his cheeks getting flustered as this conversation continued.
"But…I sleep with Big Brother all the time."
The thought of a grown country (well maybe not mentally, but…) sleeping with his brother-counterpart was slightly disturbing, and yet perfectly believable to Germany.
"But I can't go to sleep, Germany! Please let me sleep with you! Please!"
And once Italy started getting touchy by tugging at Germany's arm, he realized that Italy was going to be relentlessly adamant unless he gave in.
"Fine, fine, fine!" he snapped, jerking his arm away from Italy's tickling hands. "Just stay on that other side!"
Italy's head immediately plopped on the other pillow, making a loud plunking sound as he did so.
"Whoa, these pillows are hard!"
"I like them hard." Germany grumbled.
"So? So? Where's the rhyme?"
Confused, Germany turned his head so that it faced Italy's.
"The nursery rhyme!" Italy exclaimed with a shimmering smile. "Big Brother and I always sang together before we went to sleep!"
And at this, Germany felt sorry for Italy's older brother…
"I don't know any," Germany huffed, turning his head back to face the wall.
"What do you mean you don't know any?" Italy inquired. "Are Germans really serious and uncreative like that?"
"No we're not!" Germany spat, offended. Then, without prodding of any sort, he ranted in an aggressive and bellowing voice:
"Hoppe, hoppe, Reiter, wenn er faellt, dann schreit er.
Faellt er in den Graben, fressen ihn die Raben.
Faellt er in den Sumpf, dann macht der Reiter plumps."
There was a long wave of silence after Germany had finished singing the rhyme, and he could feel his face grow hot once more.
"…I had no idea what you just said," Italy replied stupidly, "But…okay!"
And with that (and not much appreciation either), Italy nuzzled his head on Germany's other pillow and within a few seconds was already in his own little dream world.
Recovering from the whole period of silence, Germany eased himself back into his own side of the sheets, still uneasy (and nervous) about the whole deal with Italy sleeping right next to him.
Nevertheless, as long as Italy kept to the one bed-rule he'd said, Germany figured, all would be well, and…!
The small figure of Japan slowly strode over towards Germany's bedroom door, opening his door a crack. He proceeded to venture into the depths of Germany's room, his feet making all sorts of cacophonic sounds along the creaking wooden floor despite the fact that he was a country of perfection and silence.
"Germany, it is 5:10, and-!"
The cup Japan had been holding tilted and swayed from his sudden stop, and it toppled the floor, smashing into million porcelain shards.
Germany immediately rose from the sound and sat upright, only to see a paralyzed Japan standing in his doorway with an empty tray and bits of teacups splattered across his room.
"Is this…what…Western countries do…?" Japan whispered, his eyes clearly horrorstruck and terrified by what lay before him.
"Japan, what are you-?"
"Are you planning to sleep with me tomorrow!?" he shrieked, his head shaking back and forth vigorously with embarrassment.
"W-What?!" Germany cried.
But when Germany took a step back to consider Japan's culture and the fact that Italy was cozying right beside him, did he realize why Japan was as horrified as he was.
"N-No, wait! Japan! I can-!"
But Japan had already fluttered off, clearly embarrassed as to even have set eyes upon the ghastly, un-cultural sight.
"Eh? What's going on?" Italy grumbled, tossing off the sheets and rubbing his eyes as he awoke right after the awkward spectacle.
As his answered had not been given promptly, he turned to look at Germany, whose head was hung low with shame, since what Japan had seen was just a misunderstanding.
"Germany?" Italy said, his head cocking to the side to try and get a glimpse of Germany's face.
"Italy," Germany finally muttered forlornly, "I hate you…"
...And that's how it turned out folks!
First shot at an APH fic, so...