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Cold

Summary:

It's November. It's too cold for a walk outside but Italy wants to go out anyway

Work Text:

"It's too cold to be walking outside."

"But it's a beautiful day. Come on it will be fun!"

Germany was sitting in the armchair, reading a book. Italy had popped up in front of him, all bundled up and ready to go.

"Come on Germany. You can't be cooped up inside the house all day. Let's go out!"

He hated to admit it but Italy was right. The days were starting to turn cloudy and would get to a point where there was little sunlight during the winter. Besides, he could not resist Italy's pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Ok," he said.

"Yay!" Italy leaned over and gave Germany a quick hug. "I'll meet you by the door!"
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The two men walked close together on the sidewalk. It was the middle of the day, a weekday. Most people were either at work or school. Few cars passed by. The two had the road to themselves.

Germany did not mind that Italy was so close to him. He had gotten used to it over the years and he even liked it. Italy could be a hassle at times, but he was also sweet and comforting. Italy was the person to turn to on a bad day. He knew exactly how to cheer him up.

He glanced over at Italy. At his wide eyes that took all the sights in. At the grin on his face. How vibrant his reddish-brown hair was when the sun reflected off it. He was handsome, like he always was.

His hand was by his side, his palm facing out towards Italy. He wanted to hold Italy's hand. He wanted to but did not know how to make the move. It was always Italy who did those things. Italy was always good with expressing affection. He knew how to do it right.

"Look at those birds over there!" Italy pointed at the flock of geese flying overhead.

Germany paused and looked up. The flock was huge. There had to be close to a hundred geese.

His hand inched toward's Italy. This was his chance. It was the perfect opportunity. And it would be romantic. Them holding hands and gazing up at the birds; something straight out of a scene from a movie.

But then Italy skipped forward.

"It's cold," he said. "Don't want to stay in one place for too long."

Germany was disappointed, but he didn't show it. He nodded and they continued on. Germany's hand numbly hung by his side, still extended out towards Italy. He felt butterflies jumble about in his stomach. He couldn't let another chance pass by. It was now or never.

Italy shivered and pulled down on his hat. His hands went back to his sides.

A rush of confidence surged through Germany. He reached out and grabbed Italy's hand. The Italian glanced down, surprised.

"You…you said you were cold," Germany's voice sounded higher than usual and he stuttered a little. His face felt warm; he knew he was blushing.

But then Italy squeezed his hand and gave him that smile he loved so much.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed. They walked on, hand in hand.

"You're really warm Germany," Italy said as he swung their hands back and forth. "And super comfy."

"T-thanks," Germany managed to get out. He tried to adjust his hand to make sure Italy was comfortable; making sure his grip wasn't too tight, that it was gentle, but not too loose.

Italy moved in closer to the point where they were only inches apart. Their pace slowed. Germany began to relax. His normally stoic expression changed into a beaming smile, feeling his hands warm up Italy's and Italy's warm up his'. He let out a slight laugh. He did it! He had overcome his nervousness and actually was holding Italy's hand. And it felt great!

Italy leaned his head close to Germany's shoulder as they walked. Germany's hand slipped out of Italy's for a second and then placed itself on Italy's waist. It was hard at first, finding out where the arms went and coordinating their steps, but it was worth it being so close. Italy leaned in even more, gazing up at Germany, grinning from ear to ear. And Germany stared back: his face red, dimples forming on his cheeks. And it didn't feel strange. His smile felt so natural.

Germany kissed Italy on the forehead. Italy's skin was so cold and Germany felt chills as his warm lips brushed against it. His mouth parted, letting a bit of air escape. His eyes still on Italy's, he wondered what would happen next.

Italy stood up on the tip of his toes and pressed his lips against his'. Germany's heart pounded harder than it ever did before; an indescribable bliss rushed inside him, his hand tightened its grip on Italy's waist. He closed his eyes and returned the kiss.