Warnings: Silly, useless fluff as always. Alteration between human and country names.
Summary: Italy wants to get into a complimenting war. Germany just wishes he would go to sleep.
The hand over the German’s face was placed in vain; nothing could hide the deep blush that spread all the way from his cheeks to his ears, as much as Germany wished to sink into the shadows and just be free of this embarrassment. “We…we are not discussing this, Feliciano.”
“Why not?” His head lifted slightly from the German’s chest, the ever-present smile gracing his lips. Italy reached up to tug at the blond’s wrists, bringing his hands away from his face with an amused giggle. Germany could be so silly, sometimes! “It’s something nice to talk about!”
Germany gave no resistance to the Italian’s grip, fighting back a sigh as he met the other’s eyes. It was too much to expect a quiet night with Italy; they had not been laying in bed five minutes before that musical voice had piped up, dancing from topic to topic in a sudden burst of energy that was certainly not there when Germany had carried him from the couch to the bedroom, already half asleep. He had hoped that maybe the brunet would tire himself out and fall asleep…of course, the discussion would turn to something this useless instead.
The Italian took no notice of his distress, still looking up at him with as much expectance as before. “Well?”
That managed to bring a small pout to Italy’s lips, the brunet shaking the still-held wrists in his hands. “Well! I told you something I like about you, so you have to tell me something you like about me, too!”
The only sound that managed to escape the German was a groan, flush returning to his face full force. Why was Italy only persistent in these sorts of matters?
Once again the silence was taken in stride, the Italian’s face full of smiles like there had never been a pout on his lips moments before. “Well! I really like Ludwig’s eyes!” He finally let go of the other’s wrists, resting his hands and head on Germany’s chest. “They’re really pretty and blue—more like the sky than the ocean, I think; yours are brighter than the ocean! Ve, and even if you don’t smile and your face stays all frowny and serious, your eyes say a lot! They’re really kind!”
Was it Italy’s plan to kill him of embarrassment? Germany could feel his heart stuttering in his chest, the assault of unexpected compliments leaving his mind reeling. “…Feliciano—”
“Oh, but there’s other things I like, too!” (Germany had to hold back another groan—it was really too much to hope the assault might be over) “Like, Ludwig’s hair!”
A hand reached up to ruffled said locks playfully, most of which had already long escaped from their usual slicked position. “Your hair goes well with your eyes! Ve, I might like it when it’s messy like this the most, though! It makes Ludwig look more relaxed! Especially when it’s all wet after a shower!” Italy tucked a few strands behind the German’s ear, nodding in satisfaction at his own answer.
It took a small sigh to calm his emotions, Germany resigning to the fact that there was no way to stop Italy when he was like this. Trying to convince the Italian otherwise would be pointless; so instead, he let his arms fall around the other’s waist, closing his eyes and steeling himself for the next round. “…is that so.”
“Uh-huh! There’s a lot of things I like about Ludwig, didn’t I say that before?”
A ghost of a smile twitched on his lips. “No, I don’t remember you saying that.”
Italy’s smile more than made up for the luster Germany’s had lacked. “Well, there are!” The brunet reached back, grabbing one of the man’s wrists again, pulling it back up as he played with the fingers. “I like Ludwig’s hands, too! They’re really good at making cakes and tinkering with machines, and they’re always so gentle when they touch me, and they’re always protecting me too!”
Germany had prepared himself for the onslaught, but still managed to feel a bit winded from all of the kind words, brow furrowing slightly as he fought off the knots in his stomach. “…oh?”
“Yeah! And I like Germany’s muscles because they’re…well, musclely!” Giggles escaped the Italian as he let go of the German’s hand, fingers instead trailing over the bit of collarbone free from Germany’s tank top. “And your skin is a nice shade, almost like marble or something! And Ludwig’s jaw has such a strong shape to it, it’s very handsome!”
The fingers had trailed up to the blond’s jaw, and Germany could feel himself flush underneath them. “Okay, okay! I…I understand, you can stop now.” It was half-demand, half-plead.
Italy drew his hands back, resting them under his chin once more as he looked up at the German. “But it’s all true! I really do love those things about you, Ludwig!”
“The issue of it being true or not isn’t up for debate…” He shifted, resting his arms back around Italy as he sorted out the flood of emotions, pushing them to the back of his mind for later analysis. “But, I get the picture.”
Germany opened his eyes after a long moment, greeted by a look of eager expectance. “…what?”
“Well, well~ Ludwig never answered!” The Italian shifted as well, scooting farther up Germany’s chest as barely contained excitement radiated off of him almost visibly.
The eyes closed again. “Hn.” There was a long moment of silence that neither of them seemed to take notice of; the Italian much too busy with waiting and the German much too busy with thinking.
But there was really nothing for the German to think about; after all, he already knew the answer long before this game had began.
For once, the Italian was the one to be taken off-guard, eyes wide in confusion. “Ve?”
He had to swallow back the urge to falter, forcing himself to continue. “…when you smile, it makes me…feel like smiling, as well.”
As if to grant his wish, a smile brighter than any other spread across Italy’s lips, his own face hot with a blush. “Really? That’s what you like about me?”
And as if to prove his point, the German couldn’t help but smile back in return.
There were actually a lot of things he liked about the Italian that he could possibly never say to his face. His chocolate-brown hair and just how damn soft it was when he ran his fingers through it; his eyes that were always bright with some discovery (or distraction, or even tears that always managed to melt his heart at some point); his smooth and tan skin that was always begging him to touch it.
And he couldn’t even help but adore the little things, like the way his curl would bounce when he ran; the serious looks he would get when he was focused on painting; the bright tunes he would hum while cooking…even the strange little noises he would make were endearing.
But if he had to pick a favorite, there was nothing that could top the bright smiles the Italian gave him; a special smile only the Italian could manage.
“It is.” The German finally answered, tightening his grip around the other.
If the smile could grow brighter it would have, happy squirms and fidgets overtaking the brunet. “Eh heh! That makes me happy! I was worried that you didn’t like anything about me for a moment there!” Italy tossed his arms around Germany’s neck, pulling himself up to cover his cheeks in kisses.
Germany accepted without much protest, unable to bring himself to do anything to tarnish that smile. He reached to pat Italy’s head, other hand stroking gently down his spine. And he couldn’t stop the Italian from chattering on once again, Italy somehow managing to find more embarrassing things to compliment; from the ever-present crinkle on Germany’s brow to the way he would smile when he was playing with his dogs.
But after a moment (and during a rare pause in Italy’s conversation), Germany let out a thoughtful hum. “You know what I like about you most, though?”
“Ve?” The kisses had long ended, the brunet lifting his nose from the crook of the German’s neck. “What, Ludwig?”
“When you’re sleeping.”
Italy stared at him for a long moment, Germany almost seeing the cogs turning in the Italian’s mind (and trying very hard to keep a straight face) as the brunet thought of the implications of that statement. “…hey! That’s mean!”
The German chuckled, not giving the Italian much time to pout before stealing a small kiss from his lips, leaning back and closing his eyes once more. “Gute Nacht, Feliciano.”
And really, there was nothing the Italian could think to protest after that. The smile returned, giving Germany a kiss of his own.