AN: My first Hetalia fic. I've always loved the show, but its the first time I'm compelled to write about it, because I recently got sucked back into it.

Italy sneezed and whimpered pathetically. His nose was bright red, and his face was flushed. He had a temperature of about ten million degrees. At least that was the way it felt. He got out a pen and piece of paper to write to his best friend Germany.

Dear Germany,

I am very grateful for the time we had together. I appreciate that you are my friend. I thought I should write to you, because I'm going to die. I'm very sick, you see.

Love and hugs,

Italy.

Italy had the letter sent to Germany and he curled back into bed. He coughed and went to sleep.

Germany opened the letter he received in the mail. Odd that Italy would write and not just come bother him, himself. Germany's eyes widened. He dropped the letter and ran out the door towards Italy's house. He flung open the door that was always open, for some stupid reason. "Italia!" he called out.

Germany found Italy snoring in bed, his arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed bunny. "..Italy?" he asked.

Italy woke and rubbed his eyes. He coughed weakly and looked up at Germany. "Germany." he smiled at him. "I am glad I do not have to die alone. I have my best friend here with me." he said, and sneezed into a tissue.

Germany sighed and massaged his temples. "You are not going to die, Italy." he said. "I will be back with a thermometer and tea." he said tiredly, returning quickly with the items.

Italy smiled up gratefully at Germany. "Will you miss me when I die?" Italy asked him. Germany shut Italy up by popping the thermometer into his mouth. "You are not going to die." Germany told him.

Germany looked down at the thermometer and frowned. "Stay in bed today, understand?" he said sternly. Italy nodded and took a sip of the tea, quickly spitting it out. "It tastes different." Italy whined. "Germany, will you make me some pasta please?" he pleaded. Germany groaned and left for the kitchen.

When Germany returned with the pasta, he set it in front of Italy. He knew it would not be the way the other liked it, but he would just have to get over that.

Italy smiled as he ate the pasta. Even though everything tasted different, pasta would never be bad. Not ever. After Italy finished, he fell asleep quickly. Germany pulled the blankets over Italy's shoulder. Suddenly, he was being grabbed around the neck and pulled down to join Italy.

Italy snored peacefully. The blond man could not keep a blush from dusting over his cheeks. Italy mumbled in his sleep and cuddled closer to Germany. "Ti amo, Germany." he muttered in his sleep.

Germany's face turned slightly redder, but he couldn't help but smile a little bit. He brushed the li hair out of Italy's face. He brushed his lips gently over the top of Italy's head.

When Italy woke, he was practically draped over Germany. His fever was almost completely gone. Germany was sitting up next to him, and Italy moved to sit up as well. "Germany?" Italy asked groggily and rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, Italy?" Germany asked and turned to face him.

"Why is your face very pink?" Italy asked him.

Germany looked away. "You were speaking in your sleep." Germany informed him.

"What of?" Italy tilted his head to the side. Germany sighed. "You said.. 'Ti amo, Germany.'

Now it was Italy's turn to blush. "I.. I.." he stammered. "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable.. it was silly, I am silly. It's not-" Italy was cut off by Germany's lips against his. Italy's eyes widened until they were as big as saucers. He slowly wrapped his arms around Germany's neck and kissed back. Germany's hands went up to cup Italy's cheeks as they kissed.

When they broke apart for air, Italy was speechless for the first time in his life.