Author's Note: I wanted to a. have the Italy brothers try to make a pizza together, b. have something with the orange trees that lined the streets when I visited Sorrento, and c. show that the trouble Romano had with the mafia still affect him.


I elbow Veneziano in the ribs after he bumped into me. That'll teach him to look where he's going.

"Don't drop that, you idiot!" I snap at him, as the elbow makes him stumble and he almost drops the dough he's carrying. "Are you going to get the ready, or what?" He smiles at me and starts preparing the dough. I try to keep an eye on him at the same times as chopping tomatoes and then while grating mozzarella. I don't need to though. Veneziano knows what he's doing.

-

The two of us glance at each other as we hear

"Don't drop that, dammit!" from the kitchen. Perhaps this isn't the best idea. But they were the ones who suggested it in the first place.

"So... How are things in your house?" I attempt to start a conversation.

"Going great, thanks!" My tomatoes are thriving in this wonderful weather!" Spain replies cheerfully. I think back to the rain I've been having at my house. Things must be different in Spain's territory. "What about at your house?"

"Urm..." I am reminded of the money problems I am once again having. "Everything's fine, thank you for asking." I refold my napkin so it is aligned, and Spain chuckles.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" he grins.

"It irritates me." I admit, "A lot."

"But how can you stand Italy? If he's anything like Romano, he leaves a trail of destruction wherever he goes!"

"Sometimes I wonder.." I sigh wearily, "But I do love him. And I always have... Ever since the... 300s..." My train of thought is interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen.

"Dammit, you clumsy idiot!"

"AAGH! G-Germany! Ger-many! Help me! Help me! Germanyyyyy! Help meeeee!!" I run to the kitchen.

I open the door to find Romano with his hands around his brother's throat, shaking him and swearing. There is uncooked pizza spread across the floor. I had a feeling something like this would happen.

-

The potato bastard pulls us apart so I kick him in the leg. Spain appears and hugs me from behind as a way of restraining me. I struggle against him, but I can't really move.

"Why did you hit me, Romano?" Veneziano turns his large eyes towards me from a safe position behind Germany.

"You dropped the pizza!"

"You pushed me!"

"You're an idiot!" This is all his fault. I fume silently. Spain starts stroking my hair at the back of my head to try and calm me. "Dammit!" I swear at him, unable to swat his hand away. I watch as Germany drops to the floor and starts cleaning up the mess.

"Next time why don't we just go to France's restaurant?" Spain suggests.

"I wanted to make you pizza!" I choke.

"... Romano, are you crying?"

"No!"

"Yes you are! Oh, Romano, that's so cute."

"I'm not crying! Get off me, you pervert!"

"Romano, you -"

"Get off me, dammit!" The bastard finally releases me and I shoot outside into the warm night air.

-

"Germany!" Italy chimes happily, hugging me around the neck from behind.

"Italy, I'm trying to clean." I say bluntly.

"There's always time for a hug, Germany!" he laughs, and kisses me on the cheek.

"That wasn't a hug," I reprimand. It was nice though. Italy buries his face in my shoulder. I try to straighten up.

"Don't ever leave me, Germany." he pleads quietly.

"Why would I leave you?"

"Because I'm messy. And you hate mess. So that means you hate me."

I frown. It's odd what goes through this country's head.

"I don't hate you, Italy! I could never hate you. And I'm never, ever going to leave you. You just remember how long I've loved you." I manage to turn around, and hug him back.

"Ve~" he sighs happily.

-

"Romano~" I turn around and see Spain. Apparently he managed to follow my erratic driving all the way to my territory. I scowl at him and turn away again. "Oh, come on, Romano, it wasn't that bad..." he places a hand on my shoulder, which I shrug off.

"I wanted to make you pizza..." I mutter, "But my idiot brother always messes everything up..." I step away from him to brood under an orange tree. He's such an idiot. Veneziano is such an idiot. That potato freak is another idiot. They're all bastards.

But I love Spain. And... I guess it's not his fault...

I snatch an orange from the tree and throw it to Spain. He catches it and looks at it. He doesn't know what it means. He's such an unbelievable idiot. I'll have to make it clear for him.

-

Romano steps over and kisses me on the lips. I thought he was mad at me? I decide not to worry about it. I'll never understand Romano. I kiss him back passionately, and am about to reach for his hair curl, when an empty can hits him on the back of the head. He breaks away from me and turns around angrily. A group of drunk teenage boys sneer at us. Romano steps closer to me. He has been overly cautious around his people since the time when the mafia took him over and he killed many of his own people. It has left a small hole inside of him and sometimes he has nightmares about it.

-

I cling to Spain's shirt as I stare at my people. People who, a while ago, I would have murdered for such behaviour. My grip on Spain's shirt tightens. I can still remember how each one had stung. Ho each one had begged and pleaded and screamed... How I had felt, was still feeling, the ripples their deaths caused.

Luckily we don't get any trouble from them. One of them almost falls over and they stagger off into the night. I don't know what I would have done if... They had tried to start a fight... I sink to my knees and sob into the hem of Spain's shirt. He crouches down and pulls me back up, wraps his arms around me, murmurs things in Spanish. I kiss his neck and run my fingers through his hair. He is warm and smells of tomatoes.