Work Text:
The sleeves of Germany's uniform rubbed uncomfortably against the scars lining his wrist. Every movement irritated the soft skin, catching on the dried scabs and threatening to pull them off. He sighed, unable to ignore the unpleasant feeling. The cuts would undoubtedly need to be checked, and it was time for a break from the workout anyways.
"Italy, you may take a rest," Germany called, tucking the first aid kit into his pocket sneakily.
Italy, for his part, immediately dropped from the child's pose he'd been in for the past ten minutes, pretending to stretch.
The bathroom door swung shut behind Germany, the resulting gust of wind fluttering his coat. He removed it gently, folding it on the ground and kneeling on it. Germany held his wrists out in front of him, pale raised lines and angry red gashing staring back at him. He winced; the more recent cuts had definitely been irritated. Germany pulled out the first aid kit from his pocket, clicking it open. He removed the bottle of disinfecting wound-number, placing it on the counter.
"Germania, you're probably taking a pisciare right now, but there was a really pretty butterfly and-" Italy's sentence was cut short as he barged into the bathroom and saw Germany's bloody wrists. His face dropped, eyes widening and locking onto the wounds. Germany's brain went into overdrive, standing up too fast and knocking his arm on the counter.
"Scheiße!" He cursed, pain shooting up his arm. Germany crumpled back down to his knees, the dull ache of the floor hitting him barely noticeable. Italy gasped, rushing to Germany's side. Italy knelt by him, hesitating to touch the other man. Oh Gött, I can't have him see me like this, Germany thought. He twisted away, breath ragged. He could feel tears in his eyes, the brutal sting of shame stabbing through his heart. I'm pathetic, Germany thought, Letting him see me like this. Now he knows I'm weak and disgusting, I can't do anything right and-
"Germany?" Italy called, tone soft like he was comforting a scared child. It infuriated Germany.
"Germany, do you need help?" Italy asked, his eyes shining deeply with concern. Germany avoided those eyes.
"N-nein, I am strong. I can handle little cuts." He responded, voice shakier than he wanted it to be. Italy frowned, reaching out his hand to gently grab Germany's. His grip was surprisingly unyielding, even when Germany tried to pull away.
"It is okay to ask for help, Germany. It doesn't make you any less impressionante or forte. I think it makes you brave!" Italy grabbed the disinfectant with his other hand, and looked into Germany's eyes.
"Now, I'm going to help you with this, like it or not." He declared, with a confidence Germany couldn't help but give a little smile at. Italy's hold on the other man's hand stayed consistent while he tenderly cleaned the wounds, whispering comforts under his breath when Germany unconsciously hissed in discomfort. He only let go once they were thoroughly cleaned and ready to be bandaged. Germany let out a small sigh as the stinging gradually went away as the numbing agent kicked in.
"Italy, I-I don't know what to say... These are... this is..." Germany's voice faded off as he realized he didn't know what to say.
"It's alright, Germany. We don't need to discuss it now. I just want to help you," Italy murmured, focused on diligently wrapping bandages around the other's wrist without disturbing the wounds. Conversation faded between the two as he worked, except for the occasional sharp intake of breath on Germany's part if a cut was bothered, and Italy's quick apology. Finally, the cuts had been wrapped and Italy sat back.
"All done!" He said, looking at his handiwork.
"Not bad," Germany responded gruffly. "...Thank you, Italy." The other man cocked his head.
"Of course, Germany. Anything you need me to do, and I'll do my best! I'm not tough and cool like you..." Italy trailed off, "But I'd do my best!" He said triumphantly. Germany smiled shyly. The other man always somehow made him happy.
"And thank you for letting me do that for you, Germany. I know it's not easy." Italy added, in an out-of-characterly serious tone. "Ti faccio tesoro e non voglio che ti succeda nulla. Understand?" Germany nodded shakily.
"Alright then! Let's go home, okay?" Italy said, back in his usual voice. He stood, and offered Germany a hand to help him up as well. Germany slung his long forgotten jacket over his shoulder and followed Italy by their still connected hands that made his heart flutter.
"Ja, but next time you're really going exercise!"