Italian Minds Think Alike

Author: Me! Manga60123

Fandom: Hetalia

Disclaimer: Dudes, I seriously do not own Hetalia, nor do I own any of the characters. If I did, then I would be... so happy... But, I don't own it, sadly...

*corner of shame*

Anyways...

ONTO THE STORY!

"Dudes, this idea is totally off the chain and stuff! Ain't that right, Britain?"

"I can't believe I raised such a git."

"Mon chers, you both lack something: L'amour-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU BLOODY FROG!"

"Ohonhonhon, you're quite feisty today, Angleterre! I'll just talk to someone else, then. Oh, Liechtenstein!"

"Don't even look at her, damn Frenchie. I'll kill you until you're dead!"

"Become one with Mother Russia, da?"

'Yep', Germany thought to himself, 'another productive meeting.' As he looked around, he saw the scene of Nations talking over each other and fighting. Like it wasn't an important meeting to discuss the world's problems.

America was laughing obnoxiously as England tried to spew profanities at the aforementioned country while also attempting to keep France off of him, to no avail. Russia giggled maniacally over the trembling Baltic Nations, who could but quake in fear. Korea tried claiming China's breasts as his for the fourth time that day, and Sweden had his arm around a flustered, tomato-red Finland.

'Speaking of tomatoes, where are-'

His thoughts were interrupted by a short man with jet-black hair and dark brown eyes. His longtime ally, Japan had cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Sumimasen, Germany-san, but do you know where Veneciano-san is? He and his brother have yet to arrive, and the meeting already started a half an hour ago. I'm beginning to feel worried about them." He spoke quickly, a light blush hitting his cheeks. This many words were a lot for the reserved island-nation to say, as he usually refrained from speaking, so as not to offend anyone. But, he was truly worried about the Italy brother's well being. There was no telling what kind of trouble they could have gotten into; after all, they were Italian.

Germany sighed, pressing his forefingers to the bridge of his nose, "I honestly don't know where they are. We should probably call, to see if they're-"

SLAM!

The sound of the door opening behind Germany interrupted his conversation, as the two late brothers entered the room.

He let out another sigh, this one in relief as now the meeting could truly begin.

"Danke Gott, now please, take your seats so the meeting can start."

"Shut the hell up, wurst-bastard!"

'Ah, there was Romano... Hm, wurst... That one was new...strange...' Germany dismissed the thought as he began to gather his papers, when a sudden realization struck him. 'Wait...That's funny, because that voice didn't sound like Romano's. This one had a higher pitch to it,' and reminded the Germanic nation of North Italy's surrendering pleas.

Germany slowly turned to face an angry Veneciano being clung to by a ditsy-looking Romano. He stumbled backwards in disbelief.

He had thought before that Veneciano's only expressions were joy and fear, and that Romano could only frown, but this had just been proven wrong.

"Veneciano," Romano whined, "don't be so mean! Germany's so nice, chigi~"

The whole room became quiet as they began to observe the Italie's strange behavior.

"Shut the fuck UP, Romano! And get off of me!" Veneciano pushed Romano off of the arm he had previously been attached to, and stalked off to his seat. Romano followed close behind.

"SPAIN!" Romano's eyes brightened as he saw the Spanish nation. He sprung towards him with his arms stretched and tackled the unsuspecting nation.

Spain was not prepared for this, and was knocked to the ground as the usually badmouthed half-nation began to nuzzle his shoulder.

"Chigi~" Romano squealed in delight, "I'm so happy to see you!"

Spain's face became bright red as he stuttered out, "W-wha... R-Roma... Wha- ah..." until a bright smile stretched across his face, as if he had an epiphany.

He patted Romano's head and chuckled, "Yes, me too!"

Veneciano, on the other hand, became infuriated by this, and soon hauled the southern half of Italy to his feet with strength that Germany never knew he possessed. Once this was accomplished, North Italy turned to Spain, his usually lidded hazel eyes darkened in fury.

"You stay away from my fratello, churro-bastard! Every time we eat lunch, he gets more tomatoes than he does pasta!" He then proceeded to drag a smiling Romano to his seat, plopping him down on the chair.

Spain stood up and dusted himself off, completely unfazed by what had happened, and returned to his seat. The room silently switched their gazes from Spain to the twins and back to Germany.

The latter nation took this as his opportunity to begin the meeting, clearing his throat before speaking.

"So, uh... Today, we will be, um..., We will discuss the-the-" he finally snapped, "MEIN GOTT, ITALY, WILL YOU TAKE YOUR FEET OFF OF THE TABLE!"

Said nation rolled his eyes and leaned back further in the chair. He had a smirk on his face which mirrored his brother's usual expression.

Germany clenched his hands together to refrain from jumping over the table to strangle the Italian brat. He took a deep breath to continue-

-and was knocked out of the way by the exuberant America, waving his arms like they were flags.

"Ok, guys, so I got the bestest plan ever!"

England growled, "It's 'the BEST plan ever', you git!"

"So you agree with me?" America smiled obliviously.

North Italy had glared at the young superpower for a minute before narrowing his eyes and spitting out venomously, "Are you an idiot?"

Every eye in the room turned to face Veneciano after he said those words, England muttering, 'Finally, someone who agrees with me.'

The abrupt silence that followed was broken by America's signature laugh, which was dripping with a nervous quivering that held both anger and fear alike.

"S-so, a-anyways," he reassumed his cheerful demeanor, continuing his explanation about how they could create a new super hero to come and smack those small debts upside the head, and offering to be the hero.

When America had finished talking, Romano raced to him with Italian speed and, much to America's surprise, begun to shake the american's hands rapidly while complimenting him on what a smart idea he thought it was. The taller nation blinked a couple times before grinning at the southern half of Italy and thanking him, both returning to their respective seats with bright smiles plastered on their faces.

After that, the meeting ran smoothly enough, with little to no distractions, until the very end of it.

Romano had snuck up on an unsuspecting Veneciano and trapped him in a hug, causing the latter to turn a deep hue of red.

"G-g-g-get off, dammit!" He tried to push his older twin off of him, but Romano clung onto him tightly. This became a small scuffle, which consisted of Veneciano loudly cursing and Romano purring into him and pouting if he managed to escape.

They ended up by the Frenchman, who had been oblivious to the whole Italy issue as he had just awoken from a coma induced by a certain frypan. Now he looked down at the scene in utter confusion, until a lecherous smirk crawled onto his face.

France made his move when North Italy had escaped Romano's clutches yet again. He quickly pulled the smaller and weaker nation onto his lap, awaiting his reaction, which was a delight.

Veneciano's face lit up like a christmas tree, as France proceeded to wrap his arms around the lean frame. Before he had time to register what had happened, North Italy had sent France backwards on his chair and ran towards the closest person, which happened to be Austria.

"Save me, piano-bastard!" He cried, hiding behind his former Boss.

Austria rolled his eyes, accustomed to this odd behavior- after all, Veneciano had lived under his roof for centuries. He looked over at Hungary, who nodded knowingly.

She got out of her chair and stood behind the Northern half of Italy, grabbing something from her dress pocket. She thought, 'I'm going to need 2 pans for this.'

Hungary turned the stove off and poured her freshly made gnocchi bolognese onto two separate plates, before adding a sprig of green on top of each to appeal to the twins gourmet tastes. She began to walk back to the meeting room, thankful that there was a kitchen randomly placed inside of the office building.

Once Veneciano was pinned down after trying to beat up Spain, and Romano was distracted with a kitten, Austria and Spain explained what had happened to the two brothers (with the occasional snort from Veneciano.)

"It was so cute when my little Romano would giggle and Veneciano would act so much like my little..." Spain smiled to himself with a faraway look in his eyes, "it was so cute!"

"Not on my side, it wasn't." Austria winced as he remembered the many bruises he had acquired from the infuriated young boy trapped in maid dresses. 'I honestly thought he was a she!'

"So," Germany shifted awkwardly in his seat, "If they don't eat pasta at least once everyday, they'll..." he gestured to the two italian brothers who were, as of now, playing with the kitten together, Veneciano swearing at it and Romano placing it atop his brother's head, angering the younger twin even more.

The former bosses looked to each other, then, looking back at Germany, nodded and replying "Yes" in unison.

Germany, head spinning, returned to his seat and placed his head onto his hands in exasperation.

After what felt like an hour, Hungary returned to the room, plates in hand. She placed the dishes on the table, in front of the two Italian's chairs, "Here you go!" She smiled at the two brothers before returning to her spot by Austria's side. Germany sighed in relief; Hungary had come just in time to break up what could have become a third World War.

Upon seeing the bowls and smelling the fragrant aroma of freshly-made pasta sauce, both Italie's heads snapped towards the table as they realized what was lying out for them.

"Yay! PASTAAAAAAAAA~!" Romano jumped up from his spot on the couch where he had been cuddling Spain and dove onto his chair with glee.

Veneciano sat up at the sigh of the appetizing bowl of food before him, "Cheh... I guess I'll have some." He mumbled indigently as he moved his feet from the table to the ground and grabbed his fork.

The two simultaneously lifted the delicious treat to they're lips and prepared to eat the pasta when-

"Wait!" Romano cried, "can we eat it like we always do, fratellino?"

"Idiota, you know I can't say no when you call me that!" Romano whimpered, and Veneciano sighed, "Fine, fratello."

Romano cheered, as he speared a few gnocchi noodles with his fork and waited for his younger brother to do the same. When both forks were filled with a considerable amount of pasta, the two brothers nodded to each other.

"Come here, Romano." the younger of the two ordered, a dark blush appearing on his face as the other complied. Now the two's noses were almost touching as they lifted their forks to each other's mouths.

Hungary held up her video camera with one hand, and holding her nosebleed back with the other as her and Japan hid behind a potted plant.

Romano smiled to his brother, "Say 'ah', fratello!" which caused the brother in question to turn a deeper shade of red as he listened to his older brother.

"Ah, dammit!"

They popped the pasta into their mouths and immediately switched expressions as Veneciano's blush seemed to dim from his face and enter Romano's.

Veneciano immediately began spouting cheerful "ve's", while Romano swore like a sailor when the food had burnt his tongue.

Germany sighed for the millionth time, in relief, as North Italy wrapped one arm around Germany's while holding his pasta with the other.

Romano had begun throwing punches at Spain with one hand and shoveling his pasta into his mouth with the other. Spain was curled up on the couch in the fetal position, crying.

"W-why, my little tomatito- ow!"

"Don't call me that, bastardo!"

Softly sobbing into the leather cushions, Spain thought, 'Why did they have to ruin my plan? I love a cuddly tomaté! Oh, well, onto Plan B!'

"Hey, R-Romano," Spain sat up, a small smile forming on his face. He slowly stood and began to corner the poor Italian, "what happens when I pull this curl, again?"

Romano blanched, his back hitting the wall.

"Ch- CHIGI!"

A/N: Poor Romano... Honestly, this is my first ever fanfiction written during my unhealthy obsession with the Italy brothers...

But, I'm totally over that!

(lying between her teeth)

Those Italies have their quirks, they do!

Reviews give the Italies muchos pasta y tomate!

¡Grazié!