Sleep, Baby, Sleep- GerxIta

Over the years, Germany had grown used to the Italian crawling into bed with him. It had almost become…normal, although he thought so grudgingly, to wake up in the middle of the night after he had made sure all the doors and windows were securely locked and bolted just to find the brunette naked and clinging to his back. Eventually, Germany came to accept it as a natural phenomena you just could not control.

However, waking up to a naked, shivering, and WET Italian clinging to him for dear life was certainly new.

“I–I–I—” Germany struggled to gain control over his tongue, feeling the telltale blush creeping across his cheeks. “—Italy! W–What in the hell are you doing here?" He felt the need to whisper, even though it was his own house. "And…w–why are you soaked?”

The only answer he received was a sudden clap of thunder and the man clinging even tighter to him, shivering more violently than before.

Oh. Germany finally made the connection. “R–Really, did you run all the way here because of a storm—” His voice was lost in another crack of thunder that seemed to shake the entire house, inciting a shriek from the smaller man. Germany sighed, the tension slowly loosening from his frame. He couldn’t exactly stay angry at someone that frightened. He listened to the sound of rain pelting on the roof, trying to decide his course of action.

He managed to pry the Italian‘s arms from around his waist, slidding his legs over the side of the bed. “…You at least need to dry off. You’ll catch a cold that way.” Before he could stand, Italy caught his shirt.

“D–Don’t leave me…” Germany could barely hear his voice; his face was burried between his pillows. “Please, Germany…”

“I’m just going to get a towel.”

“Germany…”

Germany resisted a sigh; Italy cowered at almost anything, but this was getting ridiculous. “I’ll be right back—” A vicious bolt of light struck outside the window, illiminating Italy’s paled face. Tears peaked from the corners of his eyes wide open with fright.

“P-Please don’t leave me!” Italy tugged weakly at the fringe of Germany’s shirt. “I–It sounds like fighting…I–I…don’t…like fighting.” The desperation in his voice almost made Germany choke as his blush returned with double the force. Italy looked away from the blond, shivering more violently. “So–So please…”

He had no chance of winning this battle. After a moment of getting his raging thoughts back in order, Germany surrended with a sigh, rolling back onto the bed and turning to the Italian, scooping him in a tight embrass. Italy’s arm’shot around Germany’s waist again, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as the storm began to pick up, shivering all the while. Fighting off his embarrassment, Germany smoothed back the wet hair from Italy’s forehead, awkwardly rubbing the man’s back for comfort.

He was not made for comforting though. He would always grit his teeth through any hardships he encountered, so the concept of comforting and being comforted was completely foreign to him. Which left him at his wit’s end when the Italian’s shivers would not relent, sobs wracking his body. He razed his mind for any ideas, anything that could calm the other man down.

Germany couldn’t remember where the idea had come from, or why in the world he even knew the song, but he found himself singing the lullaby before he realized it. “…Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf.” Italy’s sobs immediately quieted, his grip loosing around the bundles of cloth in his hands. “…Der Vater hüt't die Schaf. Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein…” Once again, the tinge of embarrassment streaked across his cheeks, but Germany took a deep breath, continuing on softly. “Da fällt herab ein Träumelein…Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf.”

The room was quite except for the sound of rain outside. Italy had stopped shivering, his face burried in Germany’s chest. Germany had almost thought the other man had gone to sleep until he heard a shaky laugh.

“Heh heh…Germany’s chest get’s all rumbly when he sings.”

He could feel himself flush yet another time. “Tch! You—!”

“But,” Italy interrupted before he could even finish his thought, “it’s nice. Germany should sing more often.” Italy snuggled closer to Germany. “It’s really nice.”

Italy was asleep by the time Germany’s brain finally kick-started once again, leaving the blond sighing. He kissed the man’s foredhead, continuing with the song until  he drifted off as well.