Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia is not mine.

Author's Note: Hello there! This is my first fic in the Hetalia section. I've just come out of a bit of writer's block, so please be kind.

I've gotten into this fandom recently, and I must say that I am utterly obsessed with the Germany x Italy pairing. So cute :3 And most of the stuff I'll write for Hetalia will likely concern that pairing; this one is no exception, but with a small twist. As much as I love Feliciano, there is something about Romano that I find fascinating - so here is a little tribute for him. It's angsty, and contains strong hints of Germany x Romano. Basically, Romano struggles with his inferiority complex, with some rather unexpected consequences.

I think I just like seeing Romano suffer, really.

The more Romano thought about it, the more he hated the way things were.

This had been the second meeting that he'd been called to attend, only to be ignored for the most part - and worse, when someone asked him a question or addressed him, he had been referred to as just 'Romano'. It wouldn't have bothered him so damn much had his brother been given the same treatment; but no, when it came to Feliciano, it was Italy this and Italy that. Fair enough, Feliciano was a part of Italy all right. Romano didn't argue against that. But the other half of the country went unnoticed and forgotten all too often, and he had real problems with that.

If they were going to address them by country, Feliciano should be called 'North Italy' and Romano 'South Italy'. If being referred to by human name, both of the brothers should be addressed in that manner. That was perfectly logical in the older brother's eyes, but he simply couldn't figure out why it was so hard for the others to follow that rule. This happened outside meetings as well, and quite frankly, Romano was sick of being treated as a separate identity from his younger brother. More than once he had to suppress urges to throw something at the offending nation(s) in question; he only held back because Germany was keeping order, and as much as he hated the man, Romano was intimidated. He wasn't about to mess so easily with Germany unless it concerned his younger brother.

And that was another thing Romano despised - how he was cast aside in favour of Feliciano, who was loved and cared for by so many nations. And just how many of those countries loved Romano? Only a handful, and the older brother doubted even that. His young, silly brother was looked after, teased fondly, taken out to dinner... whilst Romano stayed home. That wasn't fair at all. Spain came around occasionally, but these times were few and far between. Apart from that, he hardly could socialize.

But the worst thing was that it had been like that as long as the older brother could remember. When they were little and being kicked about by others, Feliciano had still been the talented one. He could draw, he took after Ancient Rome more, and he had been fondly treated by some (who'd been that boy who used to chase after Feliciano? - Holy Roman Empire, that was it). In short, his younger brother had been everything Romano could never be, and he still envied Feliciano for that. As stupid and silly as the younger Italy acted sometimes, he still was capable of so many things that the older one couldn't do; such as adapting to foreign cuisine, showing plain affection in public, and being honest with his feelings. No wonder everyone loved the younger Italy.

Romano sighed heavily and took a glum bite out of his pizza. He was having dinner by himself that night - afterwards, he would clean up, take a bath, and go to bed straight away. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. As he chewed, he carried on thinking about the other nations, Feliciano, and himself.

He loved Feliciano, of course. They had never been with one another for a long time, thus making their relationship somewhat awkward; but they were brothers, they had common interests (fewer than Romano would have liked, but still), and they had to look out for one another. Feliciano had his faults, he obviously lacked common sense, but the older brother was perfectly fine with accepting that. What he didn't understand was what the other nations saw in his young brother's childish behaviour that made them like the latter more. From all Romano could see, the younger Italy was so unbelievably ditzy that he couldn't be of any immediate use to anyone.

But then he had always categorised things into either 'useful or 'useless'. This included objects, people and and entire nations - as sorry as he felt thinking it, right now Feliciano was straddling the border between being of some competence and being absolutely useless, and he had to frequently struggle with his thoughts.

It wouldn't have been so bad, Romano thought bitterly as he finished his pizza, if Feliciano hung out with him more.

He supposed that it wasn't the younger Italy's fault that he had grown to love other nations far more than Romano. After all, they had been apart for a long time - Romano couldn't really think of very happy times they had shared during childhood. And now they were adults and occupied the same living space as brothers, the older brother could see how far apart the two had become. Feliciano was more than eager to be with Romano, of course, but due to their differences, the older brother just found him irritating and pushed him away. It wasn't either of the brothers' fault that Romano simply couldn't sympathize with the other's feelings half the time - it just ended, usually, with Romano snapping at the other.

No wonder Feliciano found more comfort amongst the Axis.

Japan looked after Feliciano in a calm, controlled manner, housekeeping wherever the Axis happened to be at that moment and listening to the other's ramblings. Japan seldom said anything, but Romano could see that there was a kind of mutual understanding and acceptance between him and Feliciano; they did their best for one another. But whenever Japan wasn't around, or busy with something else, the younger Italy turned to the other member of the Axis - Germany.

Romano sighed heavily and rubbed at his brow as he filled up the tub, ready for his bath; thinking about Germany often gave him nothing more than headaches and a horrible sinking feeling of hatred, and this time was no exception. Yes, Feliciano was famous for being Germany's one true friend; he was always around the blond man, doing something-or-another. Germany often treated him firmly, and certainly in a less patient manner than Japan - but nevertheless, the younger brother seemed to enjoy his company more. And Romano had seen more than enough hints between the two to know that the taller man was rather sweet on Feliciano; but the older Italy simply didn't get it. They couldn't be more different if they'd tried - what did they even see in one another?

Germany was strict, firm, and cold. Feliciano was fun-loving, bright and cheerful. They were total opposites, and Romano had figured that eventually, the difference would grate on each others' nerves. But that hadn't happened yet, and considering how well the two got along, it wasn't likely to happen any time soon. Sure, they had their rifts, but never ones so severe that they stopped talking to one another or purposefully hurt each other; Romano had always done his best to persuade Feliciano that Germany didn't actually like him, but it had always been disproved.

The blond man was all Feliciano talked about nowadays.

And it hurt Romano that his brother was far more willing to praise and trust Germany than him. Whenever Romano got tetchy with him, Feliciano would scoot next to Germany's side, hugging him in fear and crying out the taller man's name - 'Doitsu, Doitsu~!' - and effectively block the older Italy from him. If something good happened, the younger brother would run off to tell Germany first, even if the tall man was miles away and Romano was sitting mere inches from him. Feliciano also took to eating wurst and potatoes with great gusto, often taking the opportunity to snuggle next to the blond man whilst he was cooking. All of this he only did for Germany, and never for anyone else - not even his own brother. He thought of how his younger brother would cuddle next to Germany in bed. While they were always clothed and kept a small distance from one another whilst asleep, Feliciano would always shower the blond man with chaste kisses; he would press his lips against both of Germany's cheeks, sometimes to the forehead, always smiling sweetly. And more than once Romano had seen Germany return those kisses - with him, it was usually no more than just one kiss on both of the younger Italy's cheeks, but it seemed to mean the whole world to Feliciano.

He knew all of this because he'd often gone to pick up Feliciano from Germany's house; he happened to witness a lot of those moments in the process. Of course, Romano had never went willingly; only when he felt that Feliciano really had to come home, or if he had been informed that the younger brother was up to no good. At the beginning, sometimes - just sometimes, calls like that would come from Japan, and Romano would be tempted to never turn up and leave the younger Italy there. It would certainly serve the brat right if he couldn't come home, the older Italy would think to himself smugly whenever he entertained that train of thought. But he had never done so, and after a few times of going to Germany's house, he'd abandoned that thought for ever. The truth of the matter was that Feliciano was happy in Germany's company, and leaving him there was not at all a punishment. Now he was just eager to get his younger brother out of there.

He remembered a time when he'd called for Feliciano in front of Germany's lawn and the latter had failed to turn up. Suspicious, he had walked around the entire house for a while - until he caught sight of the two in the bathroom. Feliciano had gotten himself filthy for some reason, maybe rolling around a field with that little cat of his, and Germany had put him in a bubble bath. Romano had been too busy being indignant to remember what they were saying; he still to this day didn't know what had been stopping him from breaking through the window and murdering Germany right there and then. But he'd carried on watching, and what he'd seen was nothing short of surprising.

Germany had been frowning, saying something to the younger Italy, apparently scolding him for getting himself into another mess. He was outside the tub, dressed in his training gear, his bare muscled arms coated lightly with soapsuds, gazing irritatedly at Feliciano every now and then. But Germany's touches seemed gentle enough, if a little awkward, and when he scrubbed the other's face clean, he had done so with true tenderness. What really shook Romano was, however, the way Feliciano had been grinning all the way through the process. He kept on smiling, a look of immense fondness and affection on his face, letting himself be washed clean. He didn't seem to mind at all that he was sitting naked in a tub and being taken care of by the tall, intimidating Germany; rather, he had looked as if he were truly enjoying the experience. When Feliciano was all clean, he had leapt out of the tub straight away, grasping the taller man in a tight embrace.

"Ve~ grazie, Doitsu!"

Romano couldn't really remember what the blond man had said, for he had been far too busy being shocked, but still recalled one of Germany's responses: "Mein Gott, Italia, put some clothes on!"

And that hadn't been the only moment between Feliciano and Germany that Romano had witnessed. In fact, that moment had only been one out of plenty; in the most recent one that the older Italy had seen, Feliciano had challenged Germany to a snowball fight out of nowhere. Despite protests from the latter, he had been bombarded with snowballs merely seconds later - this led to a playful brawl, with a surprisingly enthusiastic Germany jumping into the scene. Together they'd run around, thrown snow at one another, all the while laughing their heads off. Romano had watched them from a distance, contemplating all the time whether to jump in and drag Feliciano away or let them have their fun - well, all they have is fun anyway, he had thought gloomily, but nevertheless he didn't jump in to break them up. They were too happy, too blissful, and he couldn't quite bring himself to break that up.

They hadn't gone back indoors straight away after the snowball fight was over. Germany and Feliciano had laid upon the snow for a while, making idle conversation, eventually culminating with the younger Italy cuddling up to the other until Japan started calling for them. But that short moment together had been perfect, even in the ever-pessimistic Romano's eyes; they were so comfortable, so warm, so - content. (Germany's smile was far less frightening than Romano had initially thought - it was quite nice, in fact, and softened his features.) The older brother remembered little else after that, but could still painfully recall the feeling of utter emptiness he had felt when he'd looked upon Feliciano and Germany. He was sure the two had their rifts and arguments sometimes, but back then he hadn't seen anything except joy and happiness from both men.

Romano couldn't stand it. He felt so inferior, so jealous, so - unimportant that he felt that he was going mad. He could endure not being treated as a part of Italy, he could stand staying at home while everyone else was having fun, but he couldn't ever get used to the fact that his brother loved someone far more than him. And this wouldn't have been so bad either if Germany had been a smug, distasteful bastard, for then Romano could have taken pleasure in hating him more and not feel guilty about it. But the fact was that he wasn't. The older brother knew all too well that despite his constant threats to back off, and his attempts to sabotage the two's relationship, Germany had never hated Romano and would likely not start anytime soon.

The older Italy never seemed to succeed in making Germany hate him, either. Whenever the blond man answered Feliciano's occasional distress calls and arrived on the scene, he would usually just do what he had come to do and leave; he obviously didn't want to anger the older brother, and Romano could never find the time nor reason to berate Germany quite enough. Many of those calls started when Romano snapped for some reason and started taking it all out on his brother - afterwards, Feliciano would turn away from his brother, tell Germany how amazing he was with a smile, and wouldn't he like to stay for dinner?

Romano had seen enough of the two to know that yes, Germany very much wanted to stay with the younger Italy. But he had never taken up the offer, never even once; just a polite refusal, a friendly goodbye, and then he would be off to do some more work. Obviously he was keeping an eye out for Romano, and didn't want further conflicts. And this knowledge - that Germany actually somewhat cared for Romano's feelings - was the precise reason why the older brother couldn't just brush the man off without making himself the villain.

He didn't like that at all. Deep inside, he knew Germany was concerned for him, and that he just wished for their one-sided conflict to cease. Romano himself had contemplated not hating Germany for a long time - but every time, he had failed. The blond man was simply too kind to Feliciano, far kinder than Romano had ever been to him; and worse, whenever the older brother looked at them together he was reminded rather painfully of how it could have been him being held and loved by someone. Feliciano and he looked so alike, and the younger Italy fitted so well with others - it was endlessly frustrating for Romano. He saw his younger brother cuddling up to others all the time - Romano had never been the social one, and every time he saw Feliciano being affectionate with someone, he couldn't help but wish that he was loved like that. But the care directed towards him was nowhere near the amount Feliciano was showered with, especially from Germany - as a result, he carried on hating, because that was the only way he could retaliate.

Even Antonio, his best friend and his closest acquaintance, wasn't an exception to preferring the younger Italy. The older brother knew that when he had been younger, Antonio had wished that he was looking after Feliciano instead, for the younger one had been far more polite and obedient. Obviously this wasn't the case now - but the fact that at one point, even Antonio would have much preferred Feliciano than him was still painful to Romano.

He groaned and slipped into the sheets, burying his head in the pillow. All this misery would only give him nightmares if he carried on; so he stopped thinking, and closed his eyes, falling into a light, uneasy sleep.

Romano's morning did not start off well.

He woke to find that there was someone in the kitchen, making pasta; when he went over, he found that Feliciano had donned a chef's hat from somewhere and was cooking breakfast. Romano didn't bother asking how and when the younger brother had got in - he was back home, and that was what mattered.

"Ve~ you're awake!" Feliciano said sweetly as he stirred something in a pot. "I'm making pasta."

"I noticed," Romano said coldly, although deep inside he felt a sort of appreciation for the gesture. "how come you're here anyway?"

The younger brother simply smiled again, draining the water from the pasta and pouring the sauce over it; he mixed some spices and olive oil in it, and began to mix it with care. "England's holding a meeting about trading. America's not invited, by the way. It shouldn't take us too long."

Although the older brother took some comfort in hearing that America wasn't involved (meetings with him took hours), he still had an urge to throw something and scream when he heard the word 'meeting'. It was definitely not what he needed at this point. "Dio mio! We just had one yesterday, for God's sake! Can't they have enough meetings or something - look, do I really need to go to that? Can't we arrange something else?"

"But America's not there, and it'll be over quickly," Feliciano repeated, ladling the pasta onto two dishes, oblivious of the distraught his words had brought upon Romano. "now eat up. We don't want to be late."

"Since when did you care about being late?" The older Italy shot back, snatching his plate away; he was now far too displeased to say a thank you to his younger brother. "And why do I need to go anyway? You're the better one at trading."

Feliciano didn't answer either of those questions, instead picking up his plate and humming as he left the kitchen; Romano stood there, staring angrily at his brother, having figured out all too soon why the other didn't want to be late. Germany, of course - Feliciano's beloved Germany. He'd be at the meeting as well, and obviously the younger Italy wanted to see him as early as possible.

Just great.