#cookieshetaoni

“Did you really need to insist on every country coming? It’s just Christmas!” Germany grumbled, rubbing his temple as the countries had split off into smaller groups and… as per usual or it wouldn’t be a gathering of the countries; a good amount of them were fighting. Due to it being even more than any of their meetings, it wasn’t like he could just take control by screaming at everyone, not that he should be screaming at them like they were children in the first place, but…

“I would like to remind you that not everyone celebrates the same holidays,” Japan came in, offering a small pastry.

“Yeah! I know… but!! I know everyone likes feeling included~! Even if they don’t come or do but don’t celebrate!! It’s nice to be together!” Italy grinned and ate the pastry, running off into another room before anyone could respond.

“He’s too nice sometimes,” Germany grumbled and shook his head.

At some point during the day, Italy had given every single country a sweater in relation to the holiday; thanks to a lot of help from America. Most of them weren’t necessarily religious or too closely themed, a lot of them being jokes or parodies off of holiday movies, but every single one was different. The sweater Italy picked for himself had a picture of pizza in a box on it with a Santa hat on the edge of the box. Germany was grabbing America’s hand that was holding a conspicuous bottle threateningly close to the punch, grinning sheepishly up at the blonde.

“I’m not interested in whatever excuse you have to give, just no.” He swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand, muttering about how he couldn’t even relax with a nice glass of beer during the holidays.

“I didn’t say you had to chaperone the party.”

“I didn’t even want a party,” he shook his head, “if it were up to me, a quiet dinner with my brother, maybe Japan and Italy would have been better than this. At least I can predict what they would do.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted and sulked off, whining to England about the situation at hand. It was a minute later when England realized where exactly the bottle had been taken from, scolding the younger for stealing his stuff.

Germany sighed, rubbing his temple and handing the bottle to Japan; asking him to take it to the other room. They had set off a room specifically meant for drinking, so that those who were not interested in it could avoid all the drunk ones. His brow raised as he glanced into the room in question, watching Japan disappear into it, seeing a familiar face trotting around the room. He groaned loudly, walking in to get a better assessment of the situation at hand.

Italy was currently skipping from person to person, clearly having had at least a few drinks, the mistletoe connected to his headband bouncing with each step he made.

“Kiss meeee~” he’d coo to whoever he stopped near, getting pushed away or laughed at with no response. A soft pink rose in Germany’s cheeks, storming up to the male and grabbing his hand before dragging him to another and much emptier room.

“Why’d you take me away, Germany?” he pouted as he was forced to sit on the couch.

“Why did I-- Because you’re… Ugh…” he rubbed his temple, walking out and returning with two bottles of water, forcing one into the other’s hands. “Drink.”

There was a moment of silence as they both drank some water, Italy sitting up a bit and resting his forearms on his legs.

“Germany?”

“What is it Italy?”

“Am I unlikable?” he asked, staring down at the table in front of him.

“Unlikable? I-Italy… Where-”

“Is that why no one wanted to kiss me?” he pouted, looking up at Germany.

He’s… upset no one kissed him? He gripped the bottle tighter in his hand, looking at him.

“You’re not unlikable, Italy…” he attempted to console, getting cut off quickly.

“Then why won’t anyone kiss me?” he whined loudly, slumping back into the couch. He was about to pull his headband off when Germany grabbed his hand.

“If I kiss you…” Germany’s cheeks went a full on red, looking at him, “will that make you feel better?” Italy’s eyes lit up, nodding and scooting to the edge of the couch. Germany sat on the couch next to him, gently cupping his cheek and pulling him into a soft kiss, ears glowing red with embarrassment. Italy pulled back, smiling up at him.

“Thank you, Germany!” He held his head as he slowly curled up on the couch, muttering about not feeling well.

“Just keep drinking your water and you’ll feel better,” Germany sighed, petting Italy’s hair as he rest on his leg. The two ended up falling asleep on the couch together.

The next morning, Germany looked down to see he was alone, blinking at the small box on the table. There was a note next to it.

Merry Christmas, Germany! Sorry I didn’t tell you yesterday! I got you a present!