Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia-Axis Powers- I'm waiting for the end of the world so I can steal it from the Japanese man whose name I can't spell and who owns .

"Germany, I'm sorry!"Italy ran after him, calling loudly. "I didn't mean to!"

"You never mean to do anything!" yelled Germany. Whipped cream was dripping off his face and making its way down the front of his once spotless uniform. His hair, that had been carefully slicked back, was now hanging in his face, white and sticky. "Everything is always an accident! I'm tired of accidents! Can you ever do anything on purpose for just once in your life!?"

"Yes," whispered Italy. His eyes were filmed over with tears.

"Well, then, prove it by going downstairs and cleaning up the mess you accidentally made." The tone of the words was condescending, scornful. "Can you do that, do you think?"

"Yes, Doitsu." His voice was barely there.

"GOOD!" barked Germany, slamming the bathroom door in Italy's face. He listened a bit, until he heard shoes padding down to the kitchen. He then started up the shower sighing gently. When was Italia ever going to learn that he wouldn't always be here to clean up after the cheerful Italian's messes? He didn't yell at Italy because he hated the boy. Quite the opposite, in fact. He just wanted him to be able to take care of himself. He started to take off his shirt, grunting in frustration as the buttons stuck to the buttonholes and the fabric was pried like dried glue off his skin. He did care about Italia. Over the years, he had gotten attached to the little bubbly nation. He smiled, the gentle grin looking at ease on his face. 'Ah, screw this!' he thought, and stepped into the shower fully clothed, his shirt half undone and the buttons ripped off.

While this revelation was going on in the bathroom, Italy was sobbing quietly in the kitchen, more tears following the first that had trickled down his cheek when Doitsu had slammed the door in his face. It wasn't his fault that the whipped cream can decided to explode as Germany was coming home from work. He was just making some hot chocolate because it was so cold and rainy, and he thought that Germany might like some, so he brought it over from his house, but Doitsu wasn't home so he decided to wait for him, only he forgot the whipped cream, and apparently Prussia decided to prank Germany, and the can had exploded when he tried to press the little nozzle thingy. A little piece of can had actually cut his cheek, but Germany didn't notice, he was too busy being shocked and then angry.

This memory brought on a fresh bout of sobbing as he scrubbed the cabinets. Germany didn't understand! He tried to be self –sufficient, he really did, but Doitsu kept walking in at the wrong time. Like the time Germany had walked through the door just as he had tossed the sticky pizza dough into the air. That had ended in a lot of yelling and crying and accidental curl pulling and… he didn't even want to think about it.

He finished the floors and looked around the spotless kitchen. Tears dripped onto the clean tiles, the spatters echoing throughout the gleaming whiteness. Grief and guilt washed He noticed the bright, cheery mugs of hot chocolate still sitting on the counter, stone cold by now. He put them in the microwave, set it on high, and waited for it to beep. After hearing the timer go off, he took them out carefully and scraped some whipped cream he saved on top. Just as he was putting the bowl he saved the whipped cream in on the drying rack, he heard the shower shut off upstairs. A brief scene flashed before his eyes.

"Italia! What were you even doing to make such a mistake? YOU WERE MAKING HOT CHOCOLATE!?" He gulped. He sure as heck did not want to be there for that. Quickly jotting down a note for Germany, he threw it at the mugs before racing out the door into the pouring rain.

Germany came plodding down the stairs. He paused for a moment, hearing the door slam, and shrugged it off.

"He's probably just taking out the trash or something." He came into the kitchen, blinking in surprise. It was completely back to its neat, organized self. "He can really clean a kitchen." Then again, he's most likely had a lot of practice cleaning up after Austria's baking habits, he silently added.

The second, third, and fourth things he noticed after he got used to the fact that the kitchen was actually clean were the mugs sitting on the counter and the piece of notebook paper on the floor. He picked the slightly damp paper, dotted with fresh tears, and read:

Doistu, I'm so sorry! I was trying to make you happy, and I thought you might like some hot chocolate because I know you have a sweet tooth, so I brought you some, but I forgot whipped cream, and I tried to use yours but it just exploded! I promise I'm not useless all the time! Just tell me how I can show you and I will! I promise! I'll be waiting at my house, just please, please, please don't come over angry! Don't hurt me!

Don't hurt me? He mouthed, his eyes widening with hurt, nervousness, tears… Italy thought that he was going to hurt him? Had he really been so harsh?

"Hey, West, the awesome me is home!" called a voice, the back door slamming again. "Hey, do you know why Italy was-"

"What did you do?" asked Germany, pinning Prussia to the wall. Prussia sniggered.

"You found the can, didn't you? HA! God, I bet the reaction was funny as he-" He choked as he was pressed even harder against the wall. Germany's eyes were shooting fire.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, YOU IDIOT!?" A spark of comprehension dawned in Prussia's eyes.

"So that's why he was crying, what did you even say to him, West?"

"Which way did he go?" demanded Germany, ignoring Prussia. When he got no response, he shook the Prussian roughly. "WHICH WAY DID HE GO?"

"That way," Prussia pointed down the street in the opposite direction of Italy's house. "West, take a blanket or something!" The back door slammed for the third time.

"Or don't."

Italy ran through the streets, tears mixing with the rain on his face. Germany's voice kept ringing in his ears. "I'm tired of accidents! Can't you just do one thing right in your useless life?!" He ran harder, trying to get away from the scorn and mocking voice.

"I can't do anything right! I can't, I can't, I can't!" he wailed, crumpling to the park's muddy ground. How did he even get here? He was trying to get to his house, but now he remembered that he couldn't even get inside because his keys were on Germany's coffee table. It's just another thing I can't do right, he thought bitterly.

"Italia!" The annoying voice piped up again.

"Oh, shut up," Italy muttered sadly. "Go away."

"ITALIA!" The voice got louder, and now he was starting hear footsteps squelching through the thick mud. Oh, Doitsu must have found him! He tried to get up, to run away, but he slipped and fell again, by now completely covered in filth. He was sobbing now, trying to get up again, when he was hit by what felt like a warm, soggy ton of bricks. They tumbled backwards, eventually ending up with Germany holding him as he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, Germany! I tried to be good, I really did!" he cried into his shoulder.

"Shh, don't be sorry, I should be sorry, I shouldn't have said those things," Germany murmured, rubbing Italy's hair and matting it with mud. "I should never blame you for my brother's stupid pranks."

"But I am a failure!" Italy yelled, pushing out of Germany's arms, rain making trails down his face. "I can't do a single thing right! I can't fight, I can't work, I can't run! The only thing I can do is surrender!" He broke down again.

"Look at me," ordered Germany. "Italy, look at me." He did so, wiping his nose and sniffing.

"You do more than me every day." Italy snorted disbelievingly. "No, really, you do. You can paint, and laugh, and smile, and cook. But the best thing you taught me how to do is to- Ahem, I mean…" He got more flustered the more he tried to go on.

"Yes?" sniffed Italy. Germany mumbled something in reply. "What?"

"You taught me how to, um, love," he muttered.