Ok, getting this show on se proverbial road then, to start off I only ever took about a semester of German so of course it sucks, if anyone wishes to help me with languages it would be much appreciated ^^; Soh, dis be meh first Hetalia fan-fiction no flaming plz, and as a note, since I have been "yelled" at in the past for not mentioning this, this is a guy x guy fan-fiction.

Also, you will frequently notice spelling errors that will have seemingly nothing to do with accents, for example, in a later chapter the word "traffic" is spelt "traffik" usually these are said by Germany who obviously has a lot gruffer language to contend with than English, just a heads up.


The morning started off much as it had normally started for the past while, Germany got up out of bed, took a shower, got dressed and ate a quick breakfast. Next thing he had to do was go to his office, for hours most often, and deal with military problems and paperwork. Lately things had been a mess within his boarders, he really didn't like Spain and hated France even more because of it. He sighed to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose, moving to massage his tired eyes a moment later. Paperwork, worst invention ever.

"Germany! Germany!" The high, lovely voice of his best friend called, he eagerly looked up from his work to the brunette who was decidedly of more grim appearance than his slightly hoarse voice would lead one to believe. There was, however, his trademark smile and deep expressive eyes, though less bright than usual, but the rest of him was completely wrong. Germany's automatic quirk of the lips dropped as he took in the whole sight of his fellow nation. They both had been so busy as of late, they really hadn't seen one another in nearly a week now. Germany was amazed at the changes that had occurred in just a near week. Granted, last he'd seen the boy he wasn't in particularly stellar shape, a war had just ended after all…

Italy was thinner now, a brace was around his right wrist and a few Band-Aids slapped haphazardly over his exposed body were still to be seen, sadly it didn't look to Germany as if the wrapped gash on Italy's leg was getting any better. He wore some of his civilian clothes and his hair was a mess, (more so than usual) his curious lock of hair drooped and his smile, once properly examined, rang as false as the merriment in his voice. The dullness in his eyes made them seem flat and listless, his skin was paler too, it had almost a green tone, as if he were still fighting some illness.

"Vhat ist de madder?" Germany shifted forward in his chair, closer to the Italian who was now tiredly leaning upon his desk; he laced his fingers together to rest his head on them and listened to what he had to say.

"N-nothing Germany! I'm completely fine!" Italy made a show of giving himself a once-over before continuing. "Well, I've been better but I'm certainly better than I have been for awhile!" Germany wasn't fooled by his friend's manufactured merriment, he was truly scared about something if he was lying like this.

"Hev a sead unt tell me all aboud it." Italy's smile faded, replaced by a very serious frown; he probably had never looked so serious in his entire life as he took the proffered chair in front of Germany's desk. He sat there for a few minutes twiddling his fingers, seemingly trying to think of a way to put what he had to say. It was difficult for him to even admit to himself what it was he had come here for… It seemed so… Unreal…

Germany waited patiently as it appeared that this was really something that was getting to the boy, he had learned as a child that Italy had his skittish bouts, it was best just to listen.

"W-Well… I… That is… Romano and I… Myself especially…" Most often, Germany's patience for something like this would've run out quickly with all this beating around the bush… But the serious tone and the hoarseness of his voice only made him encourage Italy to take as much time as he needed. "We are… I'm sure you know, we are close to…" He really didn't want to say it, it was a tough word for him to say, partially because of the sheer weight of the word and partially because he was speaking of himself and his beloved brother. He stammered a few times more, unable to get anything to articulate, causing Germany to tap his fingers absently on his desk. "We are close to…" One more push. "Death."

Germany's hand froze, he was completely speechless.

"Vhat? I-Ist your boss really consitering…" Italy bit his lip, his eyes tearing and nodded his head, both he and Romano were close, Veneziano himself, having taken the worst of the damage, was closer than he. His brother, in all honesty, would be better off and perhaps would even have a chance at life if he were not there.

"I don't know what to do! I don't want to die!" The dam had broken loose and the man shamelessly sobbed into his hands. "A-And! It's not just that I d-don't want to! Romano is going to too!" His sobs and coughs intensified, leaving Germany in the most awkward position he had been in yet. What could he do?! Nothing this bad had happened to him in a very long time, and in fact, he could never remember being this close to death. He had never been in this situation before, he could not comprehend the mortal terror that Italy was feeling. What did it feel like to die when you were a nation? Could Italy feel himself dying? Could Romano? A human knew when they were going to die after a fight most times, but nations, it could be so instant, there was no logical cause as to why their physical body tore itself apart in the end. And so, Germany did not know how to console Italy when it came to his impending death.

What could he do? There were really only a couple options, most of which had a high likelihood of failure. He couldn't just give these suggestions out to his young friends only have them give way and fail halfway though. No… So, there was only one option that worked every time… Though, as the thought dawned upon Germany, he didn't exactly know how receptive of this idea Italy would be…

"Italy, Italy. Calm down now. Dere ist a vay to fix dis." Germany reached across his desk and lightly laid one of his gloved hands on Italy's shoulder. Italy sniffed and looked up from his hands to his friend. Germany had withdrawn his hand from his shoulder and it now offered him a handkerchief. Gratefully, Italy accepted the small piece of cloth and blew his nose into it after wiping his eyes and face down.

Germany made a mental note to throw it into the wash later. But, maybe that wouldn't be necessary as Italy had yet to offer it back to him and was just clinging to it now as if it were a life raft.

"T-There is?" Italy finally asked as he wiped his nose again. Germany leaned back in his chair, giving the plan that had just sprung from the ethereal proper thought. In retrospect, it would have probably been a lot better of an idea to have done this before saying he could fix Italy's situation because of the implications of the plan. His eyes wandered over to Italy and the look he saw in his eyes… That look of hope and single-hearted trust in his best friend sealed the deal. No matter the implications and damn whoever it was that would try to go against this, he was going to do whatever it was he needed to do to save his best friend and fellow nation. If it put a smile back on his face at the same time then it was just an added bonus.

Italy fidgeted nervously, afraid of what Germany might say if he decided to actually kiss him if this idea worked, whatever it was. The suspense as Germany just sat behind his desk in thought was killing him. Was he going to take his plan back? Was he really doomed after all? He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, all this seemed to do was upset his already irritated body. A bolt of pain shot up his back and rang out within every cut and scar he had received from the whole stupid war. The boy wished he could hold this pain against his big brother France and his other older brother Spain, but it wasn't their fault. They were following orders, a nation could not go against what his boss told him. They could complain and voice their concerns, but never could they do anything. To blame France and to blame Spain was to be a hypocrite.

At long last, Germany sighed and leaned forward in his chair once again, the sudden noise causing Italy to jump and look up from his kerchief to the man. With baited breath he stared hopefully at the still half-pensive blonde, waiting for the plan that would save his life. He hoped.

"What is your plan?" He asked nervously, Germany sighed again and propped his elbows onto his desk, lacing his fingers together. After a few seconds more of deliberation, a look of resignation and calm blanketed the German's face and he began to speak.

"Vell, it schtarts vid me asking you: Vill you marry me?"



Wow there really was no note section in chapter 1? Lol, I had long since forgotten this fact. Anyway, some accent corrections, grammar, there's a whole new paragraph (and a half) in there and some revisions have been done. I think it's funny this is actually like… the 11th chapter that I've edited, why did it take me so long to do the first chapter? Huh.