Of Lost Italians and Christmas Presents

Ludwig awoke to silence throughout his usually hectic house.
That was the first sign that told him something was wrong.
The second thing that gave it away: Feliciano was not sleeping beside him. The little Italian always- without fail- ended up in Ludwig's bed one way or another. Usually it was through much begging or crying from a bad dream, but there was once or twice when it had been Ludwig's own idea. Said German blushed as he sat up out of the bed, trying to shake the memories of his and Feliciano's more passionate endeavors from his head. Right now he had more important things to deal with. 'Something must be up. It is Christmas, so perhaps Feli has a surprise. God, I hope not.' Ludwig got up and put on a shirt before heading out to see what was making him so uneasy about this peculiar morning.
"Feliciano? Italy?" he called out upon entering his living room. Only to find a hung-over Prussian on his couch, where he had (judging by the blanket wrapped around him and the pillow by his head) spent the night after drinking himself silly with Francis and Antonio.
"Hey, West," he said, rubbing his hair. He noticed his little bird friend was gone. "Gilbird?" A tweet sounded as a small yellow bird flittered up from under the covers to land on Gilbert's head. "There you are!"
"Hey, have you seen Feli? He wasn't there when I woke up this morning. It's weird. Even for him," the German said, pulling Gilbert out of his own little awesome world.
"Huh? No, I haven't seen your boyfriend today. Are you sure Switzerland didn't try to kill him again?"
"You're no help at all, you ass." And with that, Ludwig walk outside. "Feli? Feliciano?" He was really beginning to get worried. "I have pasta!" He was sure Feliciano wasn't outside when no one came running.
"Lose your pet Italian, did you?" Gilbert asked, joining his brother in the snow.
"Go away. I don't need your help," he grumbled.
"Hey! You do too need my awesome help! I just remembered that I did see him this morning. He-"
"Really? Where?"
"Chill out, West! Anywho, he said something about a box of tomatoes. And to not tell you something. I don't remember much else. I'm pretty sure I came onto him, though. Sorry, little brother."
"WHAT?" Ludwig grabbed Gilbert by the collar. Gilbird flew a few feet away to land on a safe branch.
"Dude, it's all good! He totally rejected me. For some strange reason, he didn't want my awesomeness!"
Ludwig released his older brother, who thusly fell into a snowdrift. "Aw, dude! Totally NOT awesome!"
The younger just walked into the house and down into the basement. 'Surely Feli wouldn't have…' He ripped open the door to his brother's "room" to find… no Italy. "Gott sei Dank…" Ludwig sighed and closed the door. "Scheiße, I'll never find that damn Italian."
As he trudged back up the stairs, his stomach began to grumble. Ludwig sighed as he entered the kitchen. That's when he noticed it there. By the small tree Feliciano had insisted on putting up.
A box. A small wooden box with "TOMATOES" in bold, black letters scrolled across it.
"Huh?" he asked no one in particular as he neared the small box. The box giggled. 'Wait, boxes don't giggle…' Ludwig rushed over to the box and slowly lifted the top. Out popped a small, copper haired Italian in a Santa hat.
"Buon Natale! Merry Christmas, Germany!" The smaller male wrapped his arms around a stunned German. "Ti amo," he whispered into his lover's ear.
"Feliciano! I cannot believe you hid from me! Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Germany yelled, pulling the small, child-like Italian back so he could see the other's face. Feliciano's eyes sparkled with tears.
"You don't like your Christmas present, Ludi?"
Ludwig scowled softly. "Feli," he said in a much softer tone than earlier, "I love my Christmas present. That's why I was so upset that I couldn't find you. You really scared me."
A single drop of salty water slipped down Feliciano's cheek. "Please," Ludwig whispered, leaning close to his little Italian. "Please, no crying on Christmas." He wipped the tear away with his thumb as he held Italy's face in his hands. "Ich liebe dich. Merry Christmas, Feli." The German placed a slow, gentle kiss on the Italian's slightly parted lips. The kiss had just begun to turn passionate when- as usual- a certian interupting Prussian reentered the house.
"Aw! Well isn't this just AWESOME!"