So, I couldn't really get into the last story, the storyline died off and honestly I started introducing new characters just to make it more interesting, but I just couldn't get it to stick. It was boring and I know that.

Anyway, my daughter made me start thinking about this pairing and then it was just a necessity, especially since my longest fanfic so far had both of these characters as ones I loved dearly.

Anywho, on with the show!

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia. (This will be the one serious disclaimer, so it applies to all later chapters.)

Chapter 1

"Why in the hell is it so hot today? Shouldn't we be able to call off on days like this?" Romano grumbled as he peeled back the moist cloth that covered his shoulders. He hung his button up over his arm as he leaned back in the car, even the wind whipping past wasn't enough to cool them down on this day. He glanced over at his brother, who wore a tank top and his normal military issue pants, with his jacket over the back of the chair. Veneziano had told him it would be cold in the building, but Romano knew it couldn't be that cold. It was sweltering!

As they pulled up to the front of the building, each with a pad of paper under their arms he shivered as the air from inside the building ran against his skin, still wet from the heat of outside. "You gotta be shittin' me." Romano grumbled and Italy glanced over, a little worry curling the inside of his brow.

"Don't tell me you didn't bring your jacket."

"Of course not! It's insanely hot today!" He yelled as he crossed his arms, huffing as they made their way to a room in the back, where England and Norway were chatting happily in a corner while America and Iceland looked on in worry. Spain chatted happily with France and Prussia while Germany kept glaring at them, though if it were anger or worry, neither of the Italians knew. Romano clenched his shirt tighter in his hand, feeling the cold from the air conditioner seep into the moist cloth, making it seem frigid, even to his hand. "Why in the hell is it so cold in here?"

"Never happy, eh, mon ami?" France leaned over the chair beside him and frowned, seeing goose pimples spread across his arms. "You're really cold, aren't you?"

"It's too hot outside, too cold inside, this is a hell of a thing." He frowned as he let his shirt fall to the floor. It was pointless to even bother carrying it with him. He glanced over, seeing his brother talking quite animatedly with Prussia, a bright smile on both of their faces and just sighed.

"Here, take mine." He heard and glanced over, seeing Germany slide out of his uniform top, placing it on the table. "I'm actually comfortable in here, so this is fine."

"No it's not. I don't want your damned uniform, bastard. It smells like potatoes." Romano glared up at the other, surprised to hear Italy chime in from beside him.

"Your lips are blue and you're shaking like a leaf. Just take his jacket, Fratello. He wouldn't have offered if he didn't want to, ve?" He smiled before turning back to his previous conversation.

"Si. Grazie." Romano grumbled as he slid the jacket over his shoulders. Italy stilled after the jacket was completely on, watching his brother's face.

"What's wrong, Fratello? You look confused." The soft voice met his ears and Romano turned down to the table, biting his lip for a moment before responding.

"Why did he offer me his jacket? I'm not some damsel in distress, dammit. I'm always... mean to him. It doesn't make sense." Romano felt guilt at the situation, knowing every word that left his mouth was right. He wasn't a nice person. He was angry and bitter all the time, and it was often that his rage was pointed at the German, so why would he offer such kindness?

"Why do you think I'm such good friends with Germany when so often I'm just... useless? He doesn't hate me for it. He understands I'm not the best, but he tries to make me better and improve on what I'm not so good at. He's a lot nicer than you think, Roma. You should be nicer to him, too." Italy showed a soft smile, patting his brother on the back.

A soft musky smell met Romano's nose and he realized it was the jacket. He smelled the collar, surprised. "It doesn't smell like potatoes at all." He mumbled and Italy giggled, nodding.

"Of course not. Do you smell like tomatoes?" Italy watched as Romano blushed, looking away.

"Sometimes I do. I just... I don't understand." Romano laid his head down as Germany stood to start the meeting.

It was four hours later they broke for lunch and by then the heat outside had gotten worse. Italy and Romano ended out with Francis, Prussia, Spain and Germany at a small diner across the street. Though a few others from the meeting came in, they were seated elsewhere, so it didn't seem so closed in. Romano slid the jacket off, laying it on the chair behind him and looked over at Germany, who was grumbling at his brother for something. Romano noticed that though Germany looked angry, he was being strict to himself over his own wording. He seemed almost as angry as Romano himself. Italy sat across from Romano, who was sandwiched between France and Spain, while Italy was surrounded by Germans. He noticed halfway through eating that Prussia kept sliding his arm over his brother's shoulder and stared, gawking for a while.

"Fratello?"

"Have I been yelling at the wrong German this whole time?! Get your arm off of my brother, potato bastard! You kraut! How dare you do things like that!" While France grabbed him, Spain yanked him back down into his seat, while avoiding laughter.

Prussia looked up with a grin and slid his arm tighter around the Italian, who blushed at the contact. "So what? I'm not allowed to love your brother?" Prussia tried to purr, but it didn't sound right coming from him.

"No! You're not! What in the hell?! I thought you were in love with that one!" Romano pointed to Germany, who blushed brightly at the offending finger.

"Che non è vero, fratello! We're just friends!" Italy burst out, pointing at Prussia. "This is the one I love!" The table fell silent. Romano gaped at his brother, while Prussia let a sly smile slide across his lip. Italy looked terrified he'd admitted everything, while Germany looked away with a pensive look. Both France and Spain just stared at Prussia with shock, which quickly turned to grins.

"Bastardo! You never told us!" Spain started to laugh while France shook his head.

"You two seem so lively, I guess I should have seen this coming, but I do feel bad for Germany." All eyes turned to the man who just looked around, an obvious hurt expression met their eyes before he stood and excused himself, giving random bills from his wallet to the woman behind the counter before heading back across the street.

Did Germany really love his brother? Did he just witness Italy turn Germany away? He had a feeling he'd been waiting for this moment for years, so why did he feel so sad at the turn of events? It didn't make any sense to him. "Why Prussia? Why not the potato bastard?" Romano asked quietly, not even noticing the pained looks on the other at the table at the turn of events they'd just witnessed.

"He's my best friend. I love him, but more like I love you. He helps me and takes care of me, but he doesn't... love me like that. Prussia and me are just more compatible. We have fun and live life to the fullest. It's just better with Prussia than with Germany. I guess I didn't make that clear enough." Italy sighed as he looked down at the abandoned plate of pasta. "I didn't know he... but he doesn't feel like that. He told me." Italy looked up at Prussia, who kissed his temple.

"He's just confused. He doesn't know how to feel that his brother is dating the man he used to love. He did, you know, during the war." Prussia watched as Italy's eyes widened. "After the war he told me it was a mistake to let his feelings get away from him like they did, and swore to keep you as a best friend no matter what." Prussia sighed, wondering if admitting this would cause him to lose the man he'd fallen for, but it was soon after Italy wrapped his arms around the other's waist, pulling him close.

"I'm sorry, about breaking his heart, but I fell in love with you." The table fell silent. It was a moment in that Romano looked between Spain and France, but neither of them made a move at all and he stood, grabbing Germany's jacket again.

"I can't believe you idiots are leaving this to me..." He grumbled. "Spain, you're paying for my food for this." He snarled as he left the restaurant and the four all stared in shock as Romano walked out the door.

"Is he... going to comfort Germany?" Spain stared, jaw dropped.

"I think so." France stared, wondering what in the hell had just happened. "What an interesting turn of events!" He laughed while Italy let depressed eyes fall to his boyfriend's chest.

Across the street, Romano wandered into the room, seeing Germany sort through his notes for the second half of the meeting, his eyes glancing up to see who was coming in. He stilled, watching as Romano slid the jacket back on before sitting hard in his seat. "I know I'm not like my brother. I'm mean and angry, I cuss a lot, but I'm... here." He didn't know what else to say. He looked down at his hands as they crossed on the table before him, not sure even how to comfort someone.

Germany had heard his words, and it took him a second to process that Romano was trying to be there for him, and he looked down from the pedestal, his eyes widening for a moment before a slight smile curled the corner of his lip. "Ja, you are, aren't you? Danke, Romano." Germany's soft baritone slid across the room, but in the silence he was heard clearly and Romano relaxed. If nothing else, he could tell his point had gotten across. Romano opened his own notebook and started writing down notes he was thinking of, as well as questions that pertained to the meeting that was to come. Germany couldn't help but feel better. He knew he had to cheer up if Romano, who was always cursing and yelling at him was trying to cheer him up. He couldn't help but shake his head, the smile that played at the corner of his mouth spread across the rest of his face as he worked on the papers before him.

It was only a minute or two before the others started pouring in, only having five minutes til the meeting was set to restart. Greece was the first to come in from a nap he'd been having, his lunch in hand to snack on during the rest of the meeting, but he stilled at seeing the two who currently shared the room. He frowned as he looked between the two, wondering if he'd wandered into a fight, but after seeing a soft smile across the German, and a confused look on the Roman, he understood it wasn't what he'd originally worried. Next in was England and Norway, still chatting while Iceland and America were chatting quietly between each other, though Romano was fairly certain he'd heard the words 'Hospital' and 'Shared Hallucinations'. He was glad he had no idea what was going on there. After that, it seemed like everyone flooded in, and he glanced over, seeing Italy and Prussia slide in, with Spain sitting to his other side. "Everything go alright?"

"Fuck you, you tomato bastard." Was Romano's only reply, but he didn't elaborate, leaving everyone to worry about what had happened til Germany started the meeting, still unable to shake the near laughter at the thought that Romano, of all people, had come to cheer him up.

It was nearly a week later that Italy approached Romano, looking a bit worried. "Fratello, we're going on a trip."

"What, you and Prussia? Good riddance." Romano leaned back in his chair, happy the heat had finally broken and a nice breeze drifted through the house, making his curl bounce on the wind.

"No, it's you and me. We're gonna go to Germany for a while." Italy said, stilling, his hands shaking as the words left his mouth.

Romano just stared for a while, his eyes narrowing in confusion as his brain tried to put those words into an order that made more sense than what he'd originally thought. After a moment, coming up unsuccessful, he shook his head, a chuckle leaving his throat. "I'm sorry, can you say that again? I must notta heard you right."

"We're going to Germany. Both you and Germany need to come to some sort of... understanding. I know you don't like me dating Prussia, and Germany seems a bit... lost on the subject, so we decided to have all of us spend some time together and get comfortable about it."

"You're more stupid than I thought. There's no way in hell I'd go to Germany to watch you and that pale faced kraut make out. Scusate, it's not gonna happen."

"Get your clothes together. We'll be gone for two weeks."

"Did you go deaf? I'm not going!"

"You are, Fratello!" Italy yelled, though his hands shook. Romano realized the only reason he had the courage to talk to him like this was their status as brothers. He chuckled, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he glared across the room, seeing Italy's shoulders start to tremble.

"Like hell. You're not taking me anywhere." Romano turned away, waiting for the door to close. It was only a few minutes til it happened and Romano grinned. He wasn't going to let his brother boss him around like that! He looked over at the notes he'd been gathering, questions for the next meeting when his vision seemed to darken for a moment. He stared, surprised before feeling suddenly very tired. He leaned forward on the table, propping himself up on his arms as another wave of severe fatigue hit. "Veneziano, did you drug me?!" He yelled out, hearing a yelp from the hallway.

"I knew you'd fight me, and I don't wanna fight, so I decided to make it easier! Scusi, fratello, but we need to do this!" Italy's face peered from around the corner of the door frame just in time to get hit by the stapler Romano used the last of his effort to throw. He had a bit of energy and started just streaming out curse words, standing and walking around the table, but as another wave of fatigue hit he stumbled to the side, falling into the cabinets and turned to the doorway, seeing Italy peer in, scared half to death. "Scusi. Mi dispiace tanto, fratello." He stared, apologizing nonstop as Romano felt his muscles relax, his eyes closing against his will. His last thought before his mind became too hazy to comprehend, 'It's no wonder I started to get so tired so early.' He'd been fighting back a yawn for nearly half an hour, and now he understood why.

He woke in a soft bed. He glanced around as he sat up, seeing the beginning of the sun start up in the window and realized he'd slept all night. He felt oddly well rested and stood, seeing a bag sitting in the chair beside the bed. Veneziano must have packed his clothes. He stood and stretched, coming out into the hallway, finding the bathroom right across from the room he was in and stumbled in.

He finally stumbled downstairs, his hair still wet from the shower, clean clothes and a sigh as he came into the kitchen, trying to find the source of the sound to find Germany making breakfast. "Che diavolo sta succedendo?" Romano stared as Germany turned to him, confusion settled across his face before he shook his head.

"Enshuldigung, I don't understand." He turned back to the stove as Romano stared.

"All this time you spent with my stupid, traitorous brother, and you don't understand Italian?"

"We were busy training. I didn't have time to learn." Germany stated with a solid tone as he flipped whatever was in the pan.

"I asked what was going on? What's so important that Veneziano needed to drug me?" Romano glared, running his hand through his hair.

"I don't know. Prussia carried you in yesterday and said they'd explain in the morning." Germany looked pale. Romano could tell just from looking at him that he was feeling ill.

"You feeling alright?" Romano stared, seeing the pale tone of his skin even lighter than normal, his normally focused eyes seemed dull and lifeless. "You're not sick, are you? I donna need to get your germs!" Romano crossed his arms and Germany looked back at him for a moment.

He was heartbroken. Romano's eyes widened as the realization crossed him. "Scusi, I didn't... I shouldn't have been so loud first thing in the morning."

"I would have been too if I'd been drugged and dragged halfway across Europe. Here, eat." Germany laid a plate before the surprised Italian. Some sort of large pancake with apple slices and a white sauce spread across the top.

"Grazie." Romano glanced up as Germany got back to work on the next pancake. "It's piacevole!" Romano stared surprised as the sweet vanilla of the sauce perfectly complimented the tart apples.

I know, kind of an odd place to end, but I'd originally forgot to do chapters, and this was where I'd normally cut for a chapter. (I was fifteen pages in before I realized my mistake, lol!)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Leave a review and let me know, alright?

Auf Wiedersehen!

Jaßmin