Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I wish I did, but I don't *sad face* I would probably end up making all my OTPs 100% canon. You guys wouldn't want that.
~Written by B.
Italy was excited for the next day. Finally, he would be able to see his big brother France for the first time in ages! On top of that, he would see Canada again. They had gotten along quite well the last time they met, Italy of course retaining his new-found- love of maple syrup. He had planned on staying the night with them at Canada's house. Even Russia was planning on coming. Italy wasn't exactly sure how he felt about that. Last time he was with Canada and Russia, everything had gone smoothly, but recently Italy had been feeling very intimidated. All that aside, he was just hoping to have a good time with the other nations.
The day before, Italy had been taking a walk with his brother outside. Romano, of course, would have preferred to stay inside, but Italy insisted. It was so nice out, after all. While strolling around, the two happened upon France and Canada sitting in the patio area of one of his favourite cafes. There was no one else around; most Italians would be having a siesta at that time. The brothers had started a pizza back home, so they couldn't be doing the same.
"Oh, hello," Canada greeted. Italy smiled at him; Romano didn't seem to notice.
"We had been dancing together earlier and needed a drink," France supplied with a wink.
Italy titled his head to the side. "Francis, they don't need to know that," Canada mumbled. France just shrugged.
"Dancing? That sounds so fun! I love to dance, though I'm not very good at it. I'm better at football. Dancing is so cool, no? It's like a combination of sports and music! I know a bit of music, I guess. I sing to myself sometimes but I don't think I can carry a tune so well, you know? I saw Mr. Austria play a lot of piano and stuff when I was little so I know a bit of that and I can read music I just don't really use it. At least I can cook! And paint. I should learn how to play more sports, but I haven't found any others that I'm good at yet. Wow, there's a lot of stuff I should learn!"
Romano rolled his eyes. He was used to his brother rambling on and on like that. He sighed. He definitely did not want to be there. While his brother acted even more excited than usual, Romano just stood off to the side, arms crossed.
"Oh, I'm sure we can teach you plenty tomorrow, our dear Italie~" said France. "We'll have fun all night long. Russia included," he added with a charming smile.
"Yeah, sure. I think he said he'd come," said Canada.
"We'll show you a good time, I'm sure."
With every sentence the two uttered, Romano became more and more tense. He flinched when his brother replied with such innocence as, "Well of course! Ve~ We'll stay up late and play games and it'll be great!"
Canada nodded. "I know of some games.." he muttered. "We have hot chocolate, too, so we shouldn't be too cold. It's not as sunny and warm there as it is here."
It was then that Romano snapped. He didn't want anyone to be so close to his idiot brother. "GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING BROTHER YOU MAPLE-SUCKING HOCKEY BASTARD," he shouted. Canada stepped back, shocked. "Veneziano is NOT the ripest tomato in the box so if you OR THAT WINE MONKEY OVER THERE try to take advantage of him, then YOU'LL BE GETTING PASTA SAUCE WHERE THE SUN DOES NOT SHINE. GOT IT?"
Appalled, Canada looked at him with wide eyes. What did he do? He was only agreeing with France. This foul-mouthed Italian was going to get a piece of his mind. Most of his attempted humiliation was lost, however, when his insults were muttered not even loud enough to hear. "Well," he started, clenching his fists. "Excuse my French, for ***** you ******* maple*********pasta**** **********health care********** Liberation******* Mounties*************beavers!" Everyone looked at Canada with utter surprise. Where did he learn ANY of those words?
After France's jaw returned to its original position, he looked at Romano. "I can give you something where the sun does not shine, oui? I won't say what~" Canada knowingly smirked at this and turned to Italy's southern brother.
Again, Romano blew up. "THAT'S IT. YOU'RE DEAD. DEAD. Good luck playing hockey with my BOOT UP YOUR ASS because I'll be kicking it ALL THE WAY TO NEXT WEEK."
His trembling little brother tapped him on the shoulder. "But Romano, both actually nice guys! You don't have to-" Romano shrugged him off and glared at Canada.
"Why don't you speak louder, eh? Too scared of my epic secret moustache weapon? Well TOO BAD, because you'll be getting A LOT WORSE THAN THAT if you don't BACK OFF. I hope you fucking CHOKE on your SHITTY POUTINE." He spun around, pointing at France. "You TOO, you perverted cheesebutt! You're gonna get a beating if you come any closer!"
"Penne a la vodka," Canada cut in with a wink. He knew THAT incident was not something either of the Italian brothers wanted to revisit. Now he was pissed. Now he was the Canada that played hockey and crushed anyone in his way. "And don't you love how your little brother is all nice and friendly with Germany?" he asked softly, pulling Italy closer to him.
Italy looked up at him. "Huh? Oh, I love penne!" he exclaimed, obviously having forgotten all real meaning behind the vodka comment. "It's one of my favourite pastas but it takes so long to cook! I wonder why that is.. I like how it's hollow and hold plenty of sauce or butter! I've never tried it with vodka though.. Vodka reminds me of scary Mr. Russia.." he trailed off, hiding his head behind Canada's shoulder.
Romano grabbed his arm and yanked him back to his side. "NOW SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE. Look at him, he's all SCARED. I don't blame him, that GOAT FUCKER is too big and intimidating. I don't want my fratello anywhere near that drunkard! And don't think I don't know what you're doing, you sneaky BEAVERDICK. I know he's all 'buddy buddy' with that potato bastard, and I don't liek it! He can FUCK OFF TOO; join you two JERKWADS in a war and tear each other apart!" he spat his last words while attempting to kick sand in both their faces.
"Second largest, baby," said Canada, pointing to himself with pride. "You're NOTHING without the other half of your nation." He jerked his head towards Italy.
Romano went silent for a second. His fists got tighter and tighter. Finally, he took one deep breath. For a second, the other nations thought he might have been controlling himself. They were wrong. "10 times the land, 10 times the STUPID.* And that's a LIE; I've always had to carry the nation because this idiot was always too busy painting bunnies and singing songs and carrying a torch fot that Holy HELL- I mean Holy Roman BASTARD. I've been fine ON MY OWN while Veneziano has been clinging to that DOG-BREATHED ASSHAT."
Used to Romano's shouting, Italy cut in without a second thought. "Vee~ Germany is so helpful~ Even if he hits me sometimes for sleeping in.. Aaanyways, Romano, don't you have Spain? He's always been-"
Again, Romano interrupted him. "Don't bring up that tomato bastard NOW, dumbass.." he mumbled. "That's BESIDE THE POINT." He pointed to Canada. "Back off and I won't have to hurt you, stupid. Keep the attitude for the ice rink and we'll all leave each other alone. If not, then have fun getting diabetes from all that SUGARY CRAP."
Everyone could tell Romano was finally losing some of his anger. He could only shout insults for so long. "But I like maple syrup," Italy squeaked.
Unfortunately, Romano was not quite done yet. "And don't even get me started on THIS FRANCOFACE," he shouted, turning.
"But that's big brother France, he's nice to me!" Italy said cheerfully. France flashed him a smile.
Romano glared. "Now, look here, shitcurd. Back off, you've already corrupted THIS asswaffle more than America ever could! STAY OFF OF VENEZIANO. Can't believe I'm saying this but better he hangs out with that idiotic clump of hair gel with legs than you grapefruit-licking dicks."
Even Canada was going back to his quieter tone. "Shut the fuck up you hoser. Get your tight little ass back to the Spaniard who owns it. Maple syrup is good for you and helps lower cholesterol and the risk of heart problems. I'm sure you'll have plenty of those, eating nothing but carbs, asshole. Even France will own your ass any day. I'm not afraid to crack open your skull with my hockey stick and eat Kraft Dinner out of it." He gave one last, "Hmph" and looked away.
Italy took this chance to get his brother's attention. "Romano!" he spoke up.
"What the hell do you want now, Vene? KINDA BUSY HERE."
"I know, but we have to go now, si? Please don't yell at them anymore, they're my friends~ They'd never hurt me!"
Romano turned to look at them and wasn't sure what to make of their innocent smiles. "...Fine, fratello. We'll go, the pizza's probably done now anyway," he muttered. Quickly giving the finger to the two nations still by the cafe, he turned to follow Italy.
"Ve~ come on, hurry up!" the younger brother shouted back, skipping. Not paying attention, he ended up tripping and doing a faceplant in the gravel.
His brother sighed. "Come on, get up. You're not bleeding, are you? Ugh, this is all their fault," he said, looking back at them with disgust.
Italy sniffled. "N-no, I think I'm okay. It's not their fault, Roma.."
"Whatever." He helped Italy up and mussed up his hair. "Let's go," he said with a smirk. "If we stay any longer, someone's gonna lose an eye."
And with that, the two Italians walked back to their home, Romano looking forward to eating pizza and Italy looking forward to both that and the following night's sleepover.
A/N: Yeah, so somehow I got myself into a spontaneous Hetalia texting RP with M, another author on this account. Most of what's here was said. I figured it was entertaining enough for other people to enjoy it, so here ya go! Peace out, groovy people! You don't have to, but I do always appreciate reviews! :3