It had been a relatively peaceful luncheon in the house of Germany.

"Italy?" Germany had said that morning.

"Yes, Germany?" Italy had said, demonstrating his clumsy and inopportune salute.

"At-ease, Italy," Germany had sighed. "The war's over,"

"You mean the one where you led Japan and I in a battle against the Allied powers? The same one you lost? The loss that humiliated you in front of the world?"

Germany had growled softly.

"Pasta!" Italy had mused. "It was all very pasta-"

"ITALY!" Germany had roared, finally giving in to his temper. "I COME HERE WITH PEACEFUL INTENTIONS, AND BEFORE I EVEN HAVE THE CHANCE TO STATE THEM, I AM REMINDED OF THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME SINCE MY SOVEREIGNTY!"

"But Germany," Italy had said plainly, "Why wouldn't you come here in peace? I thought we were allies!"

Germany had been silent, but shaking with fury.

"OHH!" Italy had exclaimed suddenly, in comprehension. " You just wanted to offer another treaty!

Germany had tried to face-palm, but had been fearful that his infuriated hand would strike too hard, and that he would hurt himself.

"Well!" Italy had cried, smiling, " I suppose one can never have too many treaties!"

"Italy?" Germany had said softly.

" Yes Germany?"

"All I was going to say was that you could make lunch if you wanted,"

"OHHH!" Italy had yelled, clapping his hands and jumping up and down like a child on a sugar rush, "YAY! NO MORE STINKY BRATWURST! PASATAAAAAAA!"