"Ve, fratello! We're here early," a certain northern Italian chirped as he waved his hands about in an excited manner as they stepped out of their bright red Lamborghini they had parked outside of the Meeting Center in France.

The elder of the two, the southern Italian, rolled his eyes as he pocketed his car keys before fiddling with the buttons on his expensive cream-colored suit a certain Spaniard had given him for his birthday the previous year, "I know that dammit," he replied with a scowl, "I don't want to get here after that damned pervert to have him put his hands all over us like he does to all those other bastardos."

The younger of the two huffed at the elder's insult towards one of his friends. "France isn't that bad though." He whined, "Can't you try to get along with him once, he really is a nice person to be around!"

"Spend as much time around the tomato bastard when he was with him and macho potato bastard's brother other and you'd know a lot differently Veneziano."

It was quite obvious to both the Italian brothers that the younger really had no chance of winning this particular argument, so the elder couldn't stop the smirk from forming on his lips when the other gave a sigh of defeat and said nothing more on the subject.

"So mean…" the younger said quietly, more to himself than the elder.

Sigh. There he was, always trying to find something positive in it, "If I didn't care about people calling me mean before Veneziano, what the hell made you think I would suddenly just start caring?" he stated in a rather bored, but still slightly irritated tone, hoping his little brother wasn't as stupid as to not catch the sarcasm that laced his response.

When the younger Italian continued his silence, the elder nodded. He wasn't actually sure if the other got it, but he could always hope.

That was around the point he decided to walk up the steps to actually enter the building, ignoring the look he received from the guard standing at the door as he opened it. Looking back, he saw his brother walking at a slower pace, a slightly subdued look crossing his features.

In all honesty, the elder hated when his brother looked like that; it just made him feel all wrong on the inside when he did. Of course, no one would know he felt like that either.

With a sigh, he watched him walk by in a sluggish manner, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Oi, Veneziano, I'm sorry dammit. I didn't mean the shit I said about that French bastard." He mumbled, hoping the other would take that.

The younger did: his face lit up like the elder had just told him that Christmas was coming early this year. He immediately launched himself at his brother, hugging him tightly with that familiar optimistic smile plastered to his lips, "Grazie fratello!" he beamed happily.

The elder was just glad his younger brother didn't make a comment about him calling the Frenchman a bastard, because he didn't have anything to say after that, aside maybe cussing his brother out like he usually did.

Casting a glare to the guards, the southern Italian pushed the door open to the building and walked in, holding the door open for his brother to enter as well. He received a bubbly thank you from his brother, which he turned by grumbling, "No problem, don't mention it. Ever," under his breath, not really loud enough for the other to hear – if he was even listening for it as the younger was busily humming something to himself at that particular moment.

Whatever.

The elder didn't care as long as it kept the northerner from whining and complaining. Which, the younger was going to do regardless, just not around him at that particular moment.

Which was fine; the Southerner didn't want to deal with a crybaby at that point. Or any point really, because his younger brother had this tendency to cry for too long over the stupidest reasons he had ever heard of.

The interior of the building was grand and quite fancy looking, and the Southerner couldn't help but wonder if they were actually at the meeting place, or some cliché version of the ball from the Cinderella series, because it looked like a ballroom party could and would be held there.

"Che cazzo.." he mumbled as they walked to the stairs that were decorated, the rails coveted in silk ribbons and such, "Is he throwing a fucking party or are we actually having the damned meeting here?"

As he ascended the steps with his brother, he realized the higher they got with each step, the more decorated the place seemed to become.

Alright, that French bastard had a serious problem.

Part of the elder was just begging him to start tearing everything down just so he could take pleasure in the Frenchman's horror when he saw the ruined estate, but the nagging voice that stated his little brother would get upset made him change his mind –

"-Lovi! Lovi, Luddy and Kiku are here!"

Well, that was the quickest way to pull the elder out of his thought. Hearing his brother use that stupid nickname on him was enough to irk him.

"It's Lovino dammit!" he hissed at his brother, who puffed out his lower lip in pouty response.

"Still so mean…"

The Southerner, now known to be named Lovino, rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and casting the younger a glare before looking up. Sure enough – much to his dismay – Lovino's gaze locked on the sight of the large German chatting with the smaller Asian man beside him in a rather serious sort of way.

He hadn't even seen another car outside when he arrived, so how the hell did they get there before them? Oh, fuck it, Lovino didn't want to know, and he had no intention of asking how and why, because he was not going to be dealing with them.

His little brother on the other hand; the Northerner was bouncing up and down with giddy excitement.

"Oh, oh! Fratello, can I go over and talk to my friends?" he asked, looking up at Lovino with big puppy-dog-like eyes.

"Fuck no." was Lovino's immediate response.

"Fratello!"

"I will not have you going anywhere near that macho potato-sucking bastard!" he snapped at him angrily.

He watched his brother's face scrunch up and his eyes grow all watery, and he inwardly – and outwardly – groaned, resisting the urge to smack his forehead at the sight of his little brother acting like such a baby sometimes.

"Alright fine – but if that stupid potato tries anything I'm going to kick his ass!" he stated, crossing his arms and giving his brother a look.

The younger beamed up at him with a bright - somewhat idiotic - smile that made Lovino inwardly gag at how clueless the other could be sometimes. "Jus- just hurry up and go to your stupid potato bastard friend before I change my mind," he muttered as he looked away with an irritated huff.

North seemed to leap with joy and hugged Lovino at this, which only made the Southern Italian flush heavily with embarrassment.

"Grazie mille! I'll see you at the meeting when it starts then, fratello!" the younger said with joy before rushing off to greet his two best friends.

Lovino felt open discomfort at this, but all he could do was mutter, "Yeah yeah... whatever dammit..." before begrudgingly heading off to the meeting room to wait for other nations to arrive.

The feeling of discomfort only seemed to linger. Or, maybe a better sense would be forboding, but he honestly wasn't sure why as he opened the door to the meeting room and went inside.