It's getting late and I'm super tired, but…I've been re-watching Hetalia and GerIta fanfictions have been floating in my head all day! I can't help but write at least one down. Especially when Harley promises me she'll post more if I do I expect at least a chapter from her.

Dear diary,

Today I drilled Japan and Italy on what I have been teaching them. Japan seems to be understanding, at least. Italy, however, is too far gone. When I was teaching them about the importance of uniform, Italy ran off with a dog. Japan and I could not find him, so we resumed training until he called me to inform me that his shoe was untied and he could not tie it himself.

Sometimes I doubt that he is the true heir of the great Roman Empire. He is irritating, spacey, and has no sense of authority or direction, but I still can't help but lo-

"Germany!" Italy's voice rang shrilly through the room, disrupting Germany's thoughts and halting his pen. "Ne? Germany, what's that?"

Italy made to grab Germany's diary, but the blonde stood and held it out of his reach before his fingers could graze the smooth leather binding.

"Nothing!" Germany's face burned immediately. He sighed. "It's nothing."

"Then why can't I see it?" Italy jumped, arms outstretched, but he was far too short. Germany held the book out of his reach with ease. "Germanyyyyy!"

Germany rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be eating pasta or sleeping or something?"

Italy perked up immediately at the suggestion.

"Ne? Really, Germany?" He smiled sluggishly, "You want to eat pasta and sleep with me?"

"What?" Germany spluttered, nearly dropping the book. "I didn't say tha-,"

Germany's stomach gurgled as though calling a bluff.

Italy grabbed his arm then and pulled, "Let's go!"

Though he could have resisted, Germany tossed his diary backward onto his bed neatly and allowed the Italian to pull him forward. It was a welcome distraction, he supposed.

Italy led Germany to the taller man's kitchen and let go of his arm, which Germany withdrew quickly with a deep blush that went altogether unnoticed. Italy hovered, pixie-like, through the cupboards, pulling out all familiar ingredients as Germany watched with focused eyes.

"Germany!" Italy called as he cooked.

"Y-yes?" Germany's head snapped up and he stood at attention.

Italy smiled. "I saw a butterfly today."

"That's…nice." Germany breathed.

"Ne~" Italy blinked. "Pasta's ready!"

The two sat and ate in semi-silence. Italy rambled on and on about various things he had seen and heard throughout the day as Germany broiled in embarrassment. He was ashamed at himself that Italy had seen him writing in his diary. It was such a private thing, that diary. If ever the Italian read it…Germany couldn't imagine what he would do then. His mind escaped to places he might hide the thing now that Italy had seen it. Perhaps he would hide it under the bed.

No. Italy would find it when there was a lightning storm. He always hid under the bed until the thunder stopped or Germany agreed to sleep next to him.

On the top shelf of the closet, perhaps?

That wouldn't work. Italy was always running into things and knocking things down. He'd knock it down and read it.

Okay…Maybe with his toiletries?

Italy was always borrowing his things… He was so careless of the property of others.

"Germany? Germanyyyyy? Ne? Are you in there?" Italy poked at Germany's arm with a fork, finally catching a rise out of the man.

"What? Oh. Yes, Italy?" Germany blinked and pushed all thoughts of the diary aside. It could wait until later as long as Italy was predisposed.

"I'm tired." Italy yawned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Germany nodded briskly. "I'll go make your bed."

Italy stood, leaving his dirty dish on the table, and made his way past Germany. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "There'll be no need."
"What do you mean?" Germany raised an eyebrow.

Italy grinned. "I'm sleeping with you tonight."

Italy walked slowly toward Germany's bedroom, leaving Germany in horror at the Italian's messiness, his suddenness, and the diary he would find lying in the open on Germany's bed.

"Wait!" Germany leapt to his feet and grabbed the dishes, rushing to throw them in the sink.

Italy ignored Germany's plea and kept his grazing pace toward the bedroom. Germany looked at the dishes he'd discarded in the sink for a moment and finally gave in to his own need for cleanliness.

"Italy, wait!" He cried out as he scrubbed the dishes hurriedly.

He left them perfect and glinting and surrounded by mounds of soap.

"Italy!" He called out as he ran toward his room. "Don't read it!"

Every corner of Germany's house seemed like a mile as he ran forward, hoping and praying to himself that the Italian didn't open the little leather book on his bed.

Finally, he rounded the corner that led him to his room. Germany threw his door open and erupted inside. Italy sat on his bed next to the leather book with a mixed look of innocence and contentedness plastered across his face.

"Don't read what?" He asked.

Germany let out the breath he had held in his lungs.

"Nothing, Italy. Let's sleep." Germany smiled and released all fears of the diary.

Of course Italy wouldn't read it! He'd forgotten about it.

Just to be sure that Italy didn't read it, Germany scooped the book up and shoved it in a drawer beside the bed.

He turned around to an already-nude Italy already under the covers. A relaxed smile lingered on Italy's lips as he fell asleep. Germany quickly followed suit, turning off all lights and sliding underneath the covers beside his friend.

"Gut Nacht, Italia."