Paperwork? Food and Cuddles Sounds Better.

Light sifts through the curtains, lighting up the paper on the desk and making the reader of it blink at the brightness of it. What time was it, nine? He hadn't checked. He didn't want to; it would only be a reminder of how he had stayed up the whole night doing work, but was only half way through it, paperwork upon paperwork upon paperwork. It was tiring, but it was due in soon, why did he decide to save it until as late as possible..?

Speaking of why, why did the sun in Northern Italy have to shine so bright? It was hurting his eyes; they were too accustomed to the dim lamp on his desk. He faintly heard rustling behind him, things moving and footsteps against the floorboards that he didn't feel inclined to investigate. He knew who it was, and why they were there, and was also aware of the massive trouble he would probably be in.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck, snapping him out of his work filled phase. Heavily accented, still half asleep French assaulted his ears, so used to the silence and gentle scratching of pen against paper, it was easy to translate, even in his state, having grown so used to the other's presence that it was almost like the other was speaking Italian.

"Mon cher, have you been there all night? You promised you would sleep when it got to two! You don't look like you've had a wink of sleep since I left you there. You must be so sore, that chair doesn't look at all comfortable. I bet you haven't even eaten since eleven yesterday." Francis was always worried about him, and it was really endearing, in a way. He hummed in reply, because he's right. He had been there all night; he did promise that he would sleep at two AM. He hadn't had a wink of sleep since he had left him there. He was sore, because the chair wasn't comfortable in the slightest, and he hadn't eaten since eleven in the morning yesterday. Francis was always right when it came to his health, he was always more intuitive than him.

"Feli, please get up, mon amour. Relax a bit; all that paperwork can't be very relaxing, can it? I can make you pasta, or pizza, anything you want, just please get up, okay?" He sounds pleading, shoving the brunette lightly back and forth, trying to convince him to get up.

His heart tightens painfully at the fact that he had been worrying the Frenchman, so the Northern Italian sighs, pushing his chair back to stand, the blond behind him shifting to give him space as he did so, and the brunette can see him smiling with relief.

"Alright, mio gattino, just for a bit, like you said, then I have to finish the paperwork, make anything you want, anything you make is always amazing." Feliciano sighs, letting France drag him towards the couch, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. He curled up on the couch, waiting for Francis to cook up whatever meal he was going to be given.

He wasn't sure how long it was, but in what seemed like no time at all, a plate of food was place on the arm of the chair, and he mumbled a "Thanks," and eating the food with a smile on his face. He had been starving, having been so invested in his work for once that he had completely disregarded his food and even his siestas, he could see why Francis was worried, the Italian really wasn't acting like himself.

He briefly considered this as he yawned, rubbing his eyes halfway through the meal. He supposed a little bit of sleep wouldn't hurt. He had said that he would sleep at two AM, but that obviously didn't happen, did it?

Once the meal is finished, Veneziano smiled lightly, standing and taking his plate to the kitchen, deciding to clean up for once, Francis had made him a very good meal after all (notnearly as good as Italian, Italian was the best kind of food, pasta and pizza and gelato, all of it was amazing!). He felt arms surround him, and his smile grew significantly larger, his shoulder pressed down lightly by a chin resting on it. "Are you feeling better, mon petit? You certainly look it with some food in your stomach, oui?" Francis asked sweetly, planting a small kiss to his neck, sweet and innocent.

"Si, your food is always delicious, sorry for worrying you..." He spoke softly, cleaning the plate with a tub of soapy water and a dishcloth, "Maybe... I could take a nap." He suggests softly, a beam spreading across his face when he hears the French nation laugh lightly, the chest pressed faintly against his back, shaking as he chuckled.

"Alright, amour, should I make the bed?" The blond responds almost instantly, voice sweet like the faint gold glow from a streetlamp at midnight. It's something he loves, but is apparently something everyone else hates. He doesn't understand why, he thinks its music to his ears. Though if people didn't like it, it was fine by him, they didn't know what they were missing.

"I can do it myself. Don't worry about it; just watch TV or something if you want..." Feli kisses the Frenchman's cheek, and leans over to get a cloth to dry the plate, feeling the other shift as he sighed, backing off to settle down on the couch to watch TV.

Italy put the plate back in the cupboard, going off to find a blanket or a duvet to get under. After finding none in the small wardrobe in the hallway, he decides to just pull one off the bed, pulling it to the couch and sitting next to Francis, wrapping the blanket around the two of them. The blond pulls him closer, letting the Italian's head rest on his shoulder.

"Mon cher, my shoulder might not be that comfy as a pillow, are you sure you don't want to sleep in the bed?" France muses, fiddling with the remote with one hand as he changed the channels. Veneziano yawned, rubbing at his eyes again and staring at the television with no real interest.

"Mm. It isn't warm unless you're in it."

"Then you should have gotten in when I was asleep, petit."

"Scusate."

"It's fine, just sleep, okay? I know you love hearing my voice, but you really need sleep, Feli..."

"Alright. Buona notte, ti amo."

"Bonne nuit, mon seul, je te aime plus."

"Liar." Less than ten minutes later, the French nation had ended up watching some romantic movie that had been playing on one of the channels with a sleeping Northern Italian leaning against him. Hey, he wasn't complaining.