Characters: Romano Italy, Veneziano Italy

Pairings: GerIta, Spamano



It was a very normal day for Romano. The sun was fucking shining, the grass was fucking green, the birds were singing their fucking birdy songs. Spain was out of the house today, at the market or something, to grab some wine and beer for his trip over to that perverted bastard France's house, to hang out with him and their potato sucking, metal singing, albino Kraut bastard of a Prussian for the night.

So, Romano was obviously looking forward to a day of NOT doing his chores, NOT making his bed, NOT cleaning his room, and NOT, NOT, NOT making a special cake for that Tomato-Bastard's birthday.

He WASN'T GONNA DO IT.

It wasn't like stupid Spain had even invited Romano to his stupid birthday party with his stupid friends. It wasn't like the stupid Tomato even mentioned his stupid birthday to Romano – who he was SUPPOSED to care about and all... - and it was NOT like Romano even CARED anyway. Nope. Not at all.

He turned on the TV, preparing for a long fucking day of relaxation and NOT CARING ABOUT THE STUPID TOMATO-BASTARD.

"Let's see...," he mumbled. "Cooking channel..."

Aaaaaaand, cakes.

"DAMNIT!" Romano roared, flipping the coffee table in front of him. "SUUUUPAAAAIIIINNNN! YOU BAAAASTAAAARD!"

He collapsed back onto the couch, exhausted mentally. "Chigi...," he growled unhappily. He needed a distraction. Anything. Anything! Please distract him from this -

"Ciao! Fratello? Are you here?"

- TORTURE.

"Italy?" Romano called nervously. "What're you doing here?"

His cheerful young fratello's face appeared in the window. "Just-a messing around, you know," he said, smiling mischievously. "Skipping training."

"I realized that!" Romano snapped, going to the window and opening it for his fratello to climb through. "Won't the potato bastard get mad?" Not that he cared or anything that that potato sucking Kraut bastard got mad at his stupid fratello. Maybe, one day, all of the yelling and shit that kraut bastard gave Veneziano would finally let it click for the little idiot that he was a bad guy to be around.

"Ah," Veneziano said sheepishly, climbing through the window and into the house Romano shared with Spain. "No... Doitsu... will be really mad, but I can calm him down later!" He finished, smiling as if that made everything okay. Then he paused, as if giving his statement more thought. "With PASTA!" He added cheerfully.

Romano rolled his eyes in slight disgust. "Ya know, fratello, one day he's gonna get so mad, he'll try to hurt you!"

Veneziano gave his fratello a truly startled look and walked past him to lean on the couch. "No!" He said loudly, with conviction. "No! Doitsu loves me, we're best friends!"

Romano felt a familiar anger well up in his chest as he stared at his fratello's face. His eyes were closed, as usual, but his mouth was set in a deep pout, and from the gentle creased by his eyes and the slight squint of the skin around his eyelids, Romano could tell he was in his determined mode.

Because Romano just KNEW Veneziano like that. He didn't have to read his eyes to guess how he was feeling. It was all there on his face, like an open book that only Romano could read. Because it was ROMANO – not that damn Hasslehoff of a Kraut! - that knew Veneziano best.

He was the one who could protect his stupid fratello. He was the one who knew what was best for him.

Not...

That...

DAMN...

KRAUT!

"Just because you say that now, doesn't mean he won't change in the future, you know!" Romano hissed angrily.

They've had this conversation before.

"Don't you remember what he did to people in the war! What's stopping him from doing that to you, huh?!" He practically screamed.

Nothing he said ever worked. No matter how many times he threw the evidence in his stupid fratello's face.

Veneziano's lips twisted into an even deeper pout. "Because he won't!" He said back, arms crossing. "Doitsu is different from his bosses! He didn't do anything to anyone, he was made to!"

It was always the same. Veneziano always defended him. Then...

"He still went along with it!" Romano snapped, waving his arms for emphasis. "Why can't you see how mean he is?!"

Veneziano finally stopped leaning on the couch and uncrossed his arms to clasp his hands in front of his chest in front of him instead, legs spread slightly in a set, determined stance.

"No! No! He was forced to! He's a country, he can't go against who rules him!" He said, voice filled with such passion, such conviction.

Then comes the praise.

"He's a wonderful man, Romano! He loves me, and is so kind to me, even though I'm-a so weak and useless! He's-a strong, smart, and my FRIEND! I keep-a telling you, fratello! He is-a my precious person!"

Romano tensed. There is was. Those words.

I hate this part... Romano thought to himself. The twisting in his gut as he watched Veneziano getting farther away. The awful, sinking feeling as he saw him go deeper into the embrace of that damn Kraut.

The poison embrace. The crushing, unfeeling, not Romano, embrace.

That place, so far away from their shared bed. Their tomato fields. Their ocean, their fields of grapes and bottles of wine, their hot sunny days and siesta's in the afternoon when it was just the two of them.

That place, so far out of cowardly Romano's reach. So very, very far, so unsafe, so dangerous.

The one and only place Veneziano could go that Romano couldn't go, where he would be completely helpless to protect his stupid, stupid, fragile, easy-trusting fratello.

"He... he isn't ever coming home... is he... fratello?"

Romano inhaled sharply to dispel the image of those big golden brown eyes, so like his own, but so, so different.

Dangerous territory, his mind thought, panicking. Back up. Back up. DUCK OUTTA THERE, BITCH, BEFORE THAT 99.9% OF SHIT STORM GETS THROWN YOUR WAY!

"Oh, great!" Romano griped, changing his tone, catching his fratello off guard. "I used to be your precious person when we were kids and we'd switch places to fuck with Supain!" Cough. "Spain!"

Veneziano blinked, pout gone, probably startled off of him. "Switching places...?"

Romano felt the anger inside of his swell. "YOU DON'T REMEMBER?!"

Veneziano backed up, going to cower mode. "S-Sorry, fratello, I just woke up from my siesta. I'm-a little groggy, still, and sometimes I forget-a my name when I first wake up, or maybe even believe that I'm in some giant rpg game like what Japan and America play and I'm the princess that uses healing magic and Doitsu is my blond haired knight which goes so nicely with my suddenly pink hair and-"

What the fuck...? Romano thought. Pink haired princess...? A-Anyway... That was a disturbing thought.

"I-I don't care!" He snapped, recovering. "You still didn't even know me! And he's not good to be around!"

Veneziano seemed really thrown and confused by his fratello's abrupt subject changes.

"I-I'm-a sorry, fratello!" Veneziano said, a bit nervously. "Ti amo, fratello!" Pause, as he gather his scattered thoughts. "And Doitsu, he's a really good friend!"

"I trust him with-a my life!"

Stab. Romano felt that one.

"He takes-a care of me, like Big Brother Spain does for you!"

At the mention of that damn Tomato-Bastard's name, Romano's rage finally boiled over. They were talking about VENEZIANO, damnit! Veneziano and his bad damn choices in people to fall in love with – stupid blond hair, stupid blue eyes, stupid accent, stupid I-Love-You's and stupid LIES – and that DAMN FRATELLO-STEALING KRAAAAUUUUT!

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT SUPAIN – SUP – SUPA – SPAAAAIN, OR GERMANY! I JUST DON'T CARE!" Romano screamed at his fratello.

Veneziano seemed truly taken aback, even if it were only because Romano had thrown Spain's name in there. Damn Tomato-Bastard and his difficult to pronounce name.

"How... how could you say you don't-a care about Big Brother Spain!" Veneziano asked, voice barely a whispered, looking at Romano as if his "beloved" fratello had just kicked some sort of tomato-shaped bunny.

Romano swallowed, feeling slightly guilty, but not showing it. "Because!" he snapped, arms crossing self-consciously. He suddenly hoped Spain hadn't magically come home at that exact moment in some cliché chick flick manner.

Veneziano seemed truly troubled by Romano's outburst, though, and wasn't going to let it go easily. "N...Next time...Next time, will fratello say he don't-a care about me, either?"

The words came out before Romano could stop them.

"Sometimes I don't."

Veneziano's eyes widened. The air around them seemed to grow colder. The birds weren't singing anymore, the sun in the sky had hidden behind clouds, and the blue sky had retreated behind it's grayer, darker counterpart to get away from this fight, a fight between brothers.

And Romano's mouth wouldn't stop there.

"You piss me off."

Veneziano's eyes filled with tears, dreading whatever came next.

"You never listen! Sometimes... I wish we weren't..." And at that moment Romano clamped down on his tongue. That, he refused to say. He would NEVER say it. He wouldn't even think it.

"Weren't...what, fratello?" Veneziano asked. His voice was trembling, and Romano knew that he could destroy Veneziano with the next blow he dealt. Even if he wouldn't say...that...he could say something else. Something biting, cold. Angry. Veneziano would be destroyed and maybe from there Romano could work him out of the Kraut's invisible embrace.

"Weren't so far apart," Romano said quietly. "Then maybe I would still be the precious person." In the ends, Romano could never do that to Veneziano. Not his sweet, stupid, tragic fratello.

Veneziano's whole body shook slightly with what Romano guessed was a shudder of relief. "Fratello... but you're still-a the most important thing!" He choked out, voice still thick with unshed tears. "The most important thing to me, no matter what!"

Romano snorted and turned away from Veneziano. "No, don't bother with that! You have your precious potato eating bastard, remember!"

Veneziano shook his head vigorously and clamped his arms around Romano's middle. "But, I love Doitsu...and I love fratello!"

Romano snorted, but didn't shove his fratello off. That, at this point, would probably be over stepping bounds. "Hmph..."

Veneziano squeezed harder, reminding Romano that he was hungry. Maybe food would get Veneziano's mind off of the argument. Romano had gone too far today. It was time to back off for now.

Apparently, Veneziano wasn't going to back off that easily.

"T-They're two different loves!" He said, referring to his earlier 'I Love You Both' comment. "And Fratello is always so important to me, no matter what!

Romano rolled his eyes and went with it for the moment, if only so he could end it. "Well, then maybe you could show it more!" He snapped impatiently. So hungry...

"How? How would you like me to show it to you, fratello? I'll-a do anything!" Veneziano said eagerly.

"Listen to me for once, that would be nice!" Romano grumbled.

"I'll-a listen, I promise!" Veneziano chirped happily. Then, Romano's stomach rumbled.

Veneziano snatched his arms away form his fratello's stomach, eyes wide. "I felt that on my arms!"

Romano blushed tomato-red. "S-Shut up, damnit!"

Veneziano laughed. "Would you like me to make you some pasta, Romano?"

Veneziano's pasta? "...si, per favore...," he mumbled.

Veneziano clapped gleefully and raced towards the kitchen. "Okay, ve~~!"

Romano rolled his eyes and followed the excitable brunette.

After about 10 minutes, Veneziano had the noodles on to boil and was working on the sauce, occasionally checking the noodles. Finally, everything was relatively quiet and peaceful. (And it smelled really good...)

Romano took this probably already-endangered moment of silence to think about Veneziano and that damn potato bastard. Veneziano was always so damn clueless as to why Romano hated Germany, his precious "Doitsu", so damn much. It took Romano awhile to realize that his stupid fratello well and truly did not know why Romano hated the German nation so much.

As if it wasn't obvious. As if Austria didn't flinch the first time he saw them together, as if waiting for a bomb explosion. As if Hungary didn't see the connection, notice the glaringly obvious problem with Italy and Germany through her weird fan-girling. As if Spain hadn't nearly fallen on his ass when he first met Germany sitting on that damn couch in Austria's living room with a strangely tight-lipped Prussia. As if Britain didn't shudder with slight pain at hidden memories every time he heard Veneziano croon about how much he trusted Germany, and how much Germany seemed to care about Veneziano. As if that pervert France didn't feel the deep, stabbing guilt every time he passed that shed with all of those old paintings and remember.

As if Veneziano really didn't see the resemblance between Germany and that bastard.

"I hate this part..." France whispered, peering through the curtains at little Veneziano, sitting by the oak tree in the yard.

"Just don't tell him," Austria warned. "I mean it. If you will do me just one favor, an absolute one, in this lifetime, then please."

It was the first time Romano had heard that stodgy bastard beg.

"Please...just let him hope. Let him hope."

France stayed quiet for a long time, before turning to Austria. "Do you think it would work?"

The cowards way out.

"Yes," Austria said eagerly. "Italy won't question it. He doesn't want to. He's better this way. With hope."

France nodded. "Alright then. I won't tell him." France peered down at Romano, then back to Austria. "Spread the word. No one is to tell Italy what happened to him. It'll be a secret."

Romano closed his eyes, mentally fast forwarding.

They were teenagers. It was one in the afternoon, and they had both stripped down to their underwear for their daily siesta.

It was before World War 1.

Everything was going well. Romano was almost asleep, when Veneziano said...it.

"He's...not coming back...is he...fratello?"

It was so quiet, Romano almost didn't hear it. But once the question had clicked in his sleep-addled brain, it echoed and boomed like American fireworks.

He looked at Veneziano, eyes wide, shock washing through his entire body. It had been years, nearly a century in fact, since Veneziano last mentioned...him.

His small fratello looked at him, and smiled a heartbreakingly stupid smile. "I'm stupid... aren't I." It wasn't a question. His eyes were open and full of tears.

Romano had no words. It was like the air had literally been sucked out of him.

Veneziano's smile crumpled. "God... even you won't say it. No one does." His lips, his eyes, his nose, they all scrunched up into his rarely-seen crying face. He flung himself into Romano's limp arms and buried his face against his bare chest, and he sobbed. He let loose right there, in their garden, and he cried. He just... cried.

Romano didn't sleep that day. Or that night. Or any night after that, for a long time. He stayed awake, next to his sleeping fratello, and he seethed with pure hatred. Hatred at France for his cowards way out. Hatred at everyone's eagerness to go along with the cruel, heartless plan. Hatred at himself for doing it too, for keeping his mouth shut.

But mostly hatred at Holy Roman Empire, for causing all this.

"Never again," Romano vowed to himself. "Never...again."

Romano's fist's tightened. He had thought that, then. But what was he doing now, what was he allowing to happen?

"Ve~!" Veneziano called out happily. "Fratello! I met someone that I like!"

Romano looked at Veneziano boredly. "Twerp," he deadpanned.

"Ve...," Veneziano whined. "Anyway! I met someone! His name is Germany – though our friend Japan calls him 'Doitsu'...isn't that cute?!"

Romano rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing, which was writing out vague battle plans. Austria was being overbearing again. He and Veneziano might need to do something soon...

"Ve, Romano, are you listening?" Veneziano whined louder.

"Yeah yeah, Germany, Doitsu, Japan, Hot Like Hoff, Bringing Sexy Back Faster Than Timberlake, I get it," Romano rumbled, trying to concentrate. Now that Veneziano mentioned it, he'd heard Spain and that pervert France talking about a Germany. Something about being in a war. Wasn't Veneziano in a war right now?

"Ve...Romano, I don't think those people have been born yet..."

Romano turned to him. "Are you in a war, right now?" he asked curiously.

Veneziano snorted. "Yes, fratello," he said. "World War 1."

Romano was silent. Then; "1? There will be more?"

Veneziano shrugged. "I don't know...maybe the person who named it is a glass half empty kind of guy."

"...Wait! Why is World War, and I'm not in it!"

Veneziano shrugged. "Because...Big Brother Spain doesn't wanna be in it..."

Romano folded his arms and grumbled. But he let it go. Veneziano said a few more things about Germany, then they both went to bed.

A long time later, Romano had heard all about Germany from Spain. The prison camps. The genocide. The "perfect Aryan race". The hatefulness for everyone not of their own perfect design, like gay people, deformed people, black people... brunette people with cute side curls.

Already worried for Veneziano – who was strangely tight-lipped about the war and his alliance with Germany – Romano was determined to meet this man and do whatever he could to protect Veneziano from him. Because this was the kind of country that could deal the final blow to Veneziano's heart.

Because, even thought Romano understand that the country was different than the man or woman leading it, he also knew a country on the brink of falling when he saw one. He'd lived through his grandfather Rome after all. And... that one.

Then, when Romano finally did meet Germany, he took in the man – blond hair, blue eyes, straight back, awkward mannerisms, hooded gazes directed at an oblivious Veneizano – and he knew. He just...knew. If this man got a hold on Veneziano's heart and broke it...

It would be the end.

"Never again...," Romano whispered.

"Fratello?"

Romano started and looked up at Veneziano. "What?" he asked, slightly shaken.

Veneziano gave him a funny looked, and went back to stirring the sauce. "I asked if fratello would sing to me! Your Delicious Tomato Song!"

Romano blushed bright red. "Eh! No way!"

"Aw, but fratello, you have-a the most marvelous voice!" Veneziano whined.

Romano blushed darker. "...you seriously think that, fratello?" he inquired softly.

Veneziano smiled brighter than the sun. "Of course, fratello! Your voice inspires me!"

Romano rolled his shoulders. "...ok, but only because you asked..."

Veneziano wriggled in glee. "Haha, yay! Ti amo, fratello!" He turned back to the pot.

Romano rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah..." He took a deep breath and started singing.

Buono! Tomato, buono! Tomato

Buono buono, ooh! Tomato!

Red on the bottom and green on the top, toma- toma- tomato! Hmph!

Veneziano smiles and sways and bounces as his fratello sings. "I-a love this so much!" He crooned.

Romano just smirked and continued singing.

There are tomatoes in my pasta!

And tomatoes on my pizza!

My charming red treasure, how I love tomatoes!

Ah, this part will make Veneziano mad...

But Wurst and potatoes are heretical things!

Veneziano stomped his foot. "No they are not, fratello!"

Romano glared at him. "Si, they are, fratello!" And continued singing...

My fratello eats them and just gets more more and more macho!

"I am not macho, fratello..."

What is a Napolitan doing with japanese cooking, you traitor!

Veneziano turned to him and pouted. "Rice balls are so good, though...and you can even put tomato in them!"

Romano snorted. "I don't believe y-" Pause. "You can?!" Ah, next line...!

"Aaaah, It's France! Protect me, God damn bastard!"

Veneziano smiled at Romano's flustered expression. "Of course you can!" He paused. "And why is Big Brother France always so mean to you?"

It was Romano's turn to pout. "Then I might try one..." Pause. "And I know, stupid pervert!"

"I'll have Japan bring some over for you sometime...," Veneziano mused. "And... I'll try to protect you, fratello!"

Romano absently mindedly agreed, his mind on tomatoes and rice. "Oh, grazie," he said. Then he registered that last bit and snorted. "That'll be fun to watch."

"Ti amo troppo, Romano!" Veneziano said saracstically. "Now, come on! My favorite part is coming!"

Romano rolled his eyes and continued.

"Don't leave me alone with that son of a bitch!"

I'll give you another one! I'll give you a beautiful one!

Come eat a delicious tomato and come dance with me!

Amore!

Veneziano leaves the pot for a second and grabs his fratello's hand and they spin around together. "Danceeee! Haha!" He squeals.

Romano rolls eyes from getting spun about, but gives in easily to Veneziano's pace. "Fine, I'll dance...,"

Veneziano hugged him and they started dancing together. Romano hummed his Delicious Tomato Song and held onto Veneziano's hands as they danced and dipped and swayed around each other like true Italians.

Veneziano smiled warmly at Romano and brought them slightly closer together. "Fratello is such a marvelous dancer!"

Romano coughed. "Well...If you say so..." He liked this praise, especially coming from Veneziano, who was basically everything Romano would never be.

"Ti amo, fratello!" Veneziano cooed. Then, a comfortable pause as they danced with each other more.

"Fratello, how are you doing with Spain, anyway?" Veneziano asked suddenly. "He's obviously been teaching you to dance better!"

"Well, we get along...a little better, but he keeps babying me...damnit," Romano mused. Then, his cheeks flared red. "And I can teach myself! I don't need him for everything, you know! Damnit!"

Veneziano laughed. "So, Spain, he's been treating you well, though?"

Romano thought of the birthday cake he had wanted to make for Spain, only to find out he'd gone off with his frinds all day. "...I guess you could call it that...," he mumbled.

"Does he still hug you and kiss you a lot?"

That caught Romano off guard. "Chigi?!" He exclaimed, pulling away from his and Veneziano's swaying bodies. "Why would you want to know a dumb thing like that, huh?!" He snapped, completely embarrassed.

He laughed again, mischievously this time. "I don't know...maybe I'm curious!"

About what?! "...if you say so..."

"What does kissing feel like?" Veneziano asked. "I've been wanting to kiss someone... but I haven't yet. And it's been so long since I've last kissed anyone."

Romano blushed harder. Who the fuck was Veneziano thinking of kissing?! "Kissing's just kissing, stupid! It just feels...like a kiss!" he said lamely.

"Hmm... maybe I should try with Doitsu~!" Veneziano said dreamily. "He's actually the one I want to kiss."

"Please, never. EVER. say that in front of me again." The thought literally makes me ill.

"Oh? Would fratello like me to kiss him instead?"

Romano swore he heard a pin drop somewhere, and he put a stop to their dancing completely. "Chigi?! What gave you that idea?!"

Veneziano grinned at him playfully. "You're always so jealous of Doitsu~! Maybe fratello wants me to kiss him instead of Doitsu!"

Romano blushes slightly. "Shut up! Don't say stupid crap like that..." What the hell is he thinking? Weirdo. France is rubbing off on him!

Veneziano leaned in close to Romano. "Does fratello want me to kiss him?" he asked, giggling.

Romano leaned back slightly. "What're you doing, you idiot?!"

"Trying to kiss my fratello!" Veneziano whined. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"...Why?!"

Veneziano leaned in again. "Because! I want to feel a kiss! And fratello doesn't want me to kiss Doitsu... didn't fratello tell me to listen to him earlier?"

"Damn...," Romano grumbled, wondering how the hell he got into this situation.

Veneziano giggled.

"...Why're you trying to kiss me though?" Romano muttered quietly.

"Because! I told you before, Romano, besides Germany, you're most special!" Veneziano said. "And...well... I could ask anyone for advice on kissing a boy that I like. I could ask Big Brother France - "

Romano blanched at the thought.

"- I could ask Big Brother Spain - "

A shiver of possessiveness ran up Romano's spine.

"- I could ask Japan - "

He'd punch you in the face, Romano thought.

"- I could even ask Mr. America!"

I'D PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE, Romano thought. There would be a frickin apocalypse from the sheer amount of stupidity that act would generate!

Veneziano continued, oblivious the the insult Romano had just dealt him. "I could have asked anyone. But there is no one I trust more than you, my fratello. My other half."

Romano blushed again slightly, then sighed. "Fine, point taken... but why do we actually have to kiss, kiss?!"

"Because I love my fratello. And, you know, we're dancing...the scent of pasta is in the air!" Veneziano said. "Perfect kissing circumstance!"

Romano slapped his own forehead in frustration. "Stupid fratello! I think there are laws against this! ...And morals!"

Veneziano giggled. "Why? It's just practice! It'll be like friends with benefits, without the sex and, you know, we're bothers instead of friends! And you know, when you think about it, we're countries, so, we're not actually related, like America and Britain aren't actually related, only, you know, for us, it's actually kind of like we're the same person. So...it's masturbation!"

"...WHAT?!"

Veneziano laughed and leaned in close again. This time, Romano didn't pull away – mostly because he was still reeling mentally from the "masturbation" comment – and wrapped his arms around Veneziano's waist.

"Fratello...kiss?"

Romano glances to the side, half out of embarrassment, half out of the same paranoia from earlier that Spain was randomly lurking outside their window.

Veneziano turned his face towards himself, though, and smiled gently. "You're my fratello," he said quietly. "And I know how hard you try to protect me from everything – including falling in love with Germany. And...I also know why." He stopped and took a shaky breath, a shadow of grief crossing his face, before continuing. "But please, Romano, don't worry about me so much anymore... just because you can't follow me into Germany's heart to protect me, it doesn't mean you can't save me from the ground if I fall too hard."

Romano's eyes widened in surprise.

Then, Veneziano kissed him. On the DAMN lips.

His little fratello's arms wind around his neck and he kisses Romano soundly, happily, childishly. ...Sloppily.

Romano rolled his eyes and brings Veneziano a little closer and breaks the kiss.

He looks him in the eyes, those eyes that are a perfect mirror of his own, now. They have been for a long time. But Romano could clearly see it, now.

"And you're my fratello. And I will keep worrying about you, no matter what, because you're really stupid and you need me, damnit," He said. Veneziano opened his mouth to whine, but Romano shook his head. "And I still don't like Germany. I probably won't for a long, long time. But...damnit...I will support you, so long as he makes you happy." Pause. "And I'll throw us into World War III just to kill him if he hurts you." Another pause, longer, as he lets that sink it. "Ti amo, Veneziano, my fratello, my other half. Always."

Veneziano smiles back. "Always."

Romano smirks. "Now, it's you're going to impress that potato bastard, you need to stop kissing like a two year old. Here, start closed mouth like this - " he kisses Veneziano again. " - Then - " He bit slowly on his bottom lip, then deepened the kiss for a second, before pulling away. "Like that."

Veneziano blushed and giggled. "That felt weird."

Romano snorted. "Then let's never, ever do it again!" Pause. "AND DON'T TELL SUPAIN! ...Sup...supa-...SPAIN. Damnit."

Veneziano laughed and laid his head back on Romano's chest and they continued to dance for a few more peaceful minutes.

Then, Veneziano suddenly jerks away. "Oh! Oh the pasta!" He turns and runs to the stove.

Romano stood there in slight disbelief, then smiled at his silly fratello running around and being cute. No wonder Germany liked him.

Never again will I let my fratello be hurt like this. Never again will he have to be alone in his pain.

Romano remembered that promise, and will continue to remember it. But now... now he understood what it actually meant.

When the Holy Roman Empire had left, Veneziano had truly been alone, with no one willing to even admit that something bad had happened.

But now... even if he did get with Germany and they did break up and Veneziano did get hurt – Veneziano had him. Romano. And a bunch of other people who weren't really important right now.

And that was enough to keep that promise.

"Romano~! The pasta is ready! I hope you like it!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, damnit..."