A/N: Umm, okay, an explanation... You see, I was randomly reading the Japanese article about Hetalia on Wikipedia and (I think) it said that Romano suffered from chorea during his childhood. I couldn't find any evidence of this in canon, so either I'm missing something, or I mistranslated the article, or Wikipedia lied (second option is the most likely). Whatever it is, that's beside the point. The point is, I liked the idea so much that I just had to write it. It just wouldn't leave me alone otherwise.

So, yeah. The world needs more Romano fics, anyway, and this is my humble contribution. By the way, I apologise if I wrote any inaccuracies!

EDIT: It IS canon! See page 102 of the first manga volume. Unfortunately, there's no English scanlation yet.

St. Vitus' Dance

It wasn't that Romano was lazy and incompetent.

Okay, maybe he was a little.

Well, possibly more than just a little. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone.

He did hate working. He was no good at it and it was just no fun at all. So, naturally, he'd been very disinclined to work when he'd been taken in by Spain and had made only some half-hearted attempts to clean the place. Spain wasn't pleased at all, but who cared what that idiot thought, anyway? He never physically punished Romano; all he did was yell and scold him a little and that was it.

But then, it became more and more obvious that Spain liked the other Italian brother better. At first, it was just a suspicion, and there were some vague rumours flying around that Spain wanted to exchange him for Veneziano. Now, however, there was no doubt about it.

That hadn't come as a surprise, and one couldn't really blame Spain for preferring Veneziano over Romano. Veneziano had always been better than Romano at everything; he was cuter, he was nicer, he was more obedient, he was a better painter, a better cook...

Still, being exchanged for Veneziano by that stupid Spain? How humiliating was that? If even Spain – soft-hearted, all-forgiving, affectionate Spain – didn't want him, Romano was... hopeless. Utterly and completely hopeless.

He couldn't have that. He had to prove he could do at least one thing right. No way in hell he was going to be beaten by his baby brother yet again!

Thus, Romano actually began to make an effort to do his job properly. Knowing how clumsy he was, he was extra careful not to break anything. He tried; he really did.

But it didn't work. No matter how careful he tried to be, he still, somehow, broke just about everything breakable in his vicinity. It was like his hands had a life of their own.

Right now, he was dusting some of the vases in Spain's house. He'd just finished the job on two vases without incident, but there were still quite a few to go and he was beginning to get nervous. Why did that jerk have to have so many breakable objects in the house, anyway?

He took a deep and, with calm, painstakingly deliberate movements, began to dust the third vase. The next thing he knew, his hand jerked and knocked the vase over to the side.

Romano froze. For a moment, he could just stare at the pieces on the floor, not quite believing his eyes. How could this have happened again? He had been so damn careful...

He felt his eyes sting and his hands shake. He tightened his grip on the duster and threw it at the floor as hard as possible, but it didn't make him feel any better. He then fell to his knees and dissolved into a stream of curses and sobs.

This was just so frustrating! What the hell was wrong with him?! Why couldn't he do this one little thing right? Even a trained monkey could have done it, so why couldn't he?

"Romaaano!" he heard Spain's voice and stiffened. "Hey, where are—R-Romano!" Quick steps approached from behind and a pair of strong arms enveloped Romano, who squirmed and tried in vain to get away. "Romano! What's wrong? What happened?" Spain asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Can't you see for yourself, you bastard?" snapped Romano. Spain took one glance at the shattered vase and frowned in concern at his charge.

"Did you get hurt? Where does it hurt?"

"I'm not hurt! Don't touch me, dammit!" said Romano, finally breaking free from Spain's embrace.

"Then why are you crying?"

"Because I broke the goddamn vase! Again! And I was being so careful! Dammit..."

Spain seemed to relax a little.

"What, is that all? Don't scare me like that, Romano." He approached Romano again, intent on hugging him again. "Please, stop crying. I'm not mad at you at all, see?" He gave his most reassuring grin. "It's not like you haven't done worse, anyway."

"You just don't understand, you idiot!" yelled Romano, stepping away from Spain. "This wasn't supposed to happen! I don't even know why it happened!" He could feel his face burning as he got more and more agitated at Spain's denseness.

Spain stopped for a moment and stared at him with a blank, almost solemn look. Just when Romano was hoping to get a halfway intelligent word out of him, Spain giggled and remarked, "You look just like a tomato! Sooo cuuute!"

"Shut up, you stupid bastard!" roared Romano. This was too much. He began to take his frustration out on Spain, punching and kicking him repeatedly. "Dammit! Why can't you ever take me seriously? I bet this is all your fault! Yeah, that's it! It's gotta be your fault! Dammit!"

Unfazed, as if Romano's hits were as light as a breeze, Spain only stroke the boy's head lovingly – and rather condescendingly, in Romano's opinion – and said, "Why don't you go and take a nap? I promise you I'm not mad about the vase, and I'll have someone else clean this up, so you just rest until you feel better, okay?"

Romano felt his face contort into a grimace and his hands twitched again, this time in longing to strangle the daylights out of the other nation. How someone could be so oblivious was beyond him. Still, Spain was giving him the day off, and Romano wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Reigning in on his temper with a Herculean effort, he stormed off to his room, tripping on nothing once on the way. His face burnt as he could feel Spain's curious eyes boring into the back of his head.

oOo

That night, Spain was getting ready for bed when Romano entered his room, completely naked and carrying a pillow that was almost as big as him. He then plopped down on Spain's bed without a word, his expression as sour as usual. Spain didn't comment, though he was pleasantly surprised that Romano seemed to be over whatever had been bothering him earlier that day and was even feeling nice enough to come sleep with him. This was such a rare occurrence! He just hoped the kid wouldn't wet his bed again...

It was all Spain could do to stop himself from cuddling him like a teddy bear or even stroking his soft hair. He was just so cute! But no, touching Romano in any way would only upset him again, so Spain fought temptation and focused on just trying to sleep.

It was difficult, though, when Romano himself kept nudging him and sometimes outright slapping and kicking him at seemingly random intervals. Really, Romano might be the cutest thing ever after Veneziano, but he could be such a pain sometimes!

"Romano, stop that!" Spain snapped after being hit awake yet again.

"What? 'M not doin' anythin'," Romano mumbled sleepily.

"You're kicking me."

"Well, that's your own damn fault!" snapped Romano, sounding a little more alert. "You're lying too close to me, dammit. I can barely move without touching you."

Not in the mood to argue, Spain just sighed and scuttled a little farther on the bed from Romano. But it was too late; he was wide awake now and unable to fall asleep, even though Romano didn't touch him again. He just lay on his side, facing Romano but not really looking at him or anything in particular.

Then, a quick, small movement caught his eye. Spain squinted and frowned in mild annoyance at Romano. Couldn't that boy hold still for one minute? He'd never fall asleep if he kept moving like that.

Funny, Spain thought. He couldn't quite understand why Romano kept moving. He wasn't shifting positions at all, now that he thought about it, so it probably wasn't out of discomfort. Was he just anxious or hyper? Spain watched him thoughtfully in the semi-darkness of the room, wondering.

Some minutes later, he saw Romano move again. Now that he was paying attention to it, it looked really odd. The movement was too abrupt and... random. Romano was lying perfectly still and then, all of a sudden, his hand or his foot would start twitching and twisting. It sort of looked like a little dance, except that it didn't seem as though Romano was aware of it at all. It looked too involuntary.

"Um... Romano?" he called softly, a rare tone of concern in his usually cheerful, carefree voice. "Do you realise you look like you're having a mild case of spasms?"

"Mm..."

Well, that could just as easily be a "yes" or a "no" or a "What?" or "Shut the hell up and let me sleep," so Spain just kept asking:

"Does this happen often?"

"S'm't'ms," was Romano's sleepy reply. Well, it was almost a word, and this time, at least, the meaning was clear enough to Spain, who felt his heart constrict with increasing worry.

"Why? Are you suffering from earthquakes, Romano? Is that it?"

"Goddammit! Shut the fuck up, you bastard!" Romano finally snapped, half-awake, and the kick that he delivered to Spain's vital regions was very voluntary. "This just happens, okay?! I can't help it! It's not my fault, dammit!" The boy curled up away from Spain, and Spain didn't even have to see his face to know it was bright red. "It's not my fault things break! Hmph. I think it must be your fault. It didn't use to be this bad... until I came to live here. Damn you and your stupid breakable house!"

Spain was dumbfounded by Romano's blunt words. Had he really been the cause of this? And if it was true that this had been going on since Romano had moved in, how come Spain had never noticed anything?

He lowered his head, silently berating himself. He really should have paid more attention...

"Romano, I'm sorry... Why – why didn't you tell me before?"

"What's there to tell?" asked Romano gruffly; it was the tone he used when he was making an embarrassing admission. "You always knew I was clumsy, you jerk."

Indeed, it was a well-known fact that Romano was clumsy.

But...

Was there more to it?

After a long moment of contemplation, Spain took a deep breath. "Romano..." he began, but there was no reply but a couple of soft snores. He sighed. So Romano had finally fallen asleep. After watching him for some more minutes, Spain noted that he'd also stopped twitching.

He still wasn't sure what exactly was afflicting Romano – or if anything was afflicting him at all, for he just might be faking the whole thing just to be his difficult self. But he promised himself he would find out.

He also decided that, from tomorrow, Romano should probably be excused from his chores.

The End