yo so basically it turns out that one of my school friends followed my account from like 2014 and found out that i was updating again which was FUCKING traumatizing! So i made a new account that NO ONE will see lmao

"You fucking dipshit!" Romano screamed, struggling against Spain's hold. "How could you do this?! You might be a damn horror but my brother? That's too fucking far!"

England raised his hands in defense, eyebrows drawn. "Now, Romano, you must know that Italy offered to do this. I did not force him at all whatsoever to try to help me with my magic. I refuse to stoop to such levels, as a gentleman."

"Gentleman my ass!" Romano yelled. "What did you do to him? Is he dead? OH MY GOD, HE'S FUCKING DEAD ISN'T HE?!"

"Romano, calm down!" Spain said, trying to keep the Italian back. "I'm sure that that's not the case here. If it were, then England won't be alive either very soon!" He smiled pleasantly at Arthur.

"Y-Yes, he's not dead, it's just more like…" England hesitated. "Well… It'll be better if you see for yourself."

He unlocked the door to his basement and disappeared into the inky darkness of the room before coming out with Italy in his arms.

"Madre de dios."

"What. The. Fuck."

Romano breathed in deeply and bellowed, "HOW THE HELL DID YOU TURN MY BROTHER BACK INTO A BABY?!"

Said baby Veneziano stirred at the scream. He rubbed his eyes with pudgy palms and looked around, surprised. "Ve? Where am I?"

Fluent Italian. There was an intake of breath from the three men. No one dared move.

Veneziano reached out two arms. "Big brother Spain!"

Spain's face turned red as he slapped a hand over his mouth. "So cute…!"

"V-Veniziano?" Romano managed, taking a step forward.

The chubby little Italian hopped out of England's arms and stumbled on the ground a little. Then he got up clumsily and then smiled with such pure innocence, Spain wondered if his happiness was tangible and oozing from his pores.

"Big brother Spain!" Italy repeated before wrapping his little arms around the older man's leg. They were so short that they barely met around his knee. "Wow! You've gotten so big since the last time I met you! Have you conquered many, many nations?"

Spain stared down at the cute little boy and picked him up, immediately smothering his face with kisses. "Oh, Italy, you are just the most adorable frijol I've ever seen!"

Romano glared chainsaws at England, grinding his teeth. "What the fuck did you do?"

He put his hands up in defense. "I don't know! Something happened and my magic was disrupted! He was supposed to go back in his memories, not go back in age!"

"Hey, big brother Spain, who are they?" Italy whispered, pointing at Romano and then England.

Romano scowled and tried to think of something scalding to spit but came up with nothing. Instead he patted his brother's head. "Hey, stupid, I'm your older brother Romano. Can't you even tell?"

Italy gasped. "No! Really? But my brother is the same size as I am and…" He looked down at his small hands and then back at Romano before beginning to sniffle.

"Oh no! Romano, you made him cry!" Spain squeezed Italy a little tighter and pressed another kiss to his forehead. "What's wrong, Ita?"

Italy sniffled again. "Big brother Romano got so big and strong… But I'm still so little and weak. Why is that? Is this punishment from God?"

Spain almost choked on the sweetness. "Don't worry, Ita! You're really not this small, you just became this small because—"

England made a quick cutting motion across his neck, eyes wide. Alerting a subject to the spell one was under never resulted in sunshine.

Italy suddenly gasped. "Oh no! Mr. Austria is going to be upset if I'm late! I have to get to his right away!"

He humped down from Spain's grasp and bowed to Romano. "Goodbye, brother! I'm glad you got so big! Please help me take care of our country!"

Then he turned and tried to run away before finding that the doorknob was too high for him to reach.

England growled and walked forward to grab Italy roughly by the scruff of his shirt. He turned to Spain and Romano, forcing a smile onto his face. "Well, I'm sure I can turn him back soon enough."

"Oh no, you don't," Romano snarled, rolling up his sleeves.

Little Italy looked up at England and giggled, holding out a hand nearly as small as a fifty pence coin. "Ve, who are you, mister? Do you want to be my friend?"

He might as well have stabbed England through his chest and nailed his heart onto a cross. England bit his lip and looked away, lest his organs turned to mush.

"England, as you will remember once I turn you back to the way you were," he muttered, switching to Italian and snapped open a spell book in his free hand.

"Oh? I've never seen you before. Are you my big brother too?"

That did it. England dropped Veneziano and actually stumbled back. His soul felt like it had been dumped in a tub of fresh cream and strawberries. "Oh, bloody hell! He's so cute!"

Italy hopped off of his chair and looked around in wonder. "What an odd house! Did Mr. Austria rent me out to assist you all? Is that why I'm here? I am not very good at cleaning but I shall try! Please don't feed me yucky food."

Romano suddenly stiffened. "Oh, unholy fuck of the virgin Mary. He only remembers his time as a cleaning bitch for that Austria bastard."

Spain clicked his tongue. "Lovi, please mind your language. There's a young one here now."

England tried to calm his thumping heart and focus but those three words kept on echoing in his head. Big brother… Big brother….

"Aren't you a good boy, Ita?" Spain said, leaning down and patting his head. "Oh, I'm getting all nostalgic! I remember you used to be so good and diligent. The best, nicest boy there is!"

Italy giggled again, face growing pink. "Thank you, Spain! You're so nice to me. I've become much, much better at cleaning!"

Antonio chuckled and glanced at Romano. "I know someone who could learn from you."
"Fuck off, you paella-shoving dickwad."

"Romano! Language!"

"I need to be good at cleaning!" Italy said breathlessly. He smiled, the flush in his face growing darker. "I-I promised the Holy Roman Empire that I'd have the best house and pastries ready for him when he got back."

Spain froze. Romano stayed still for one second before whirling around and leaping at England with the look of murder in his eyes.

"YOU LITTLE FUCKER, I WILL KILL YOU!" Romano screeched.

"And that's how this happened," Spain said, massaging his temples and pointing at the adorable Italy. "Romano knocked England unconscious and I had to put him in time out because he swore so much and made Ita cry."

"This happens like almost every other time Iggy does his voodoo, so I'm not completely surprised," America said, scratching the back of his head. "But… Like, Italy's a baby now? Talk about ultimate humiliation."

"Unfortunately, we did a bit of research and we talked with Norway and Romania," Spain continued. "We can turn Italy back into an adult but it'll take a bit of time. They said the reverse potion needs a full moon, so we're expecting at least a week."

The tiny handful of nations in the world that had been able to come at such last minute notice all muttered under their breaths.

Veneziano looked around and then skipped over to Russia. "Ooh! Mister, you're so tall! What country are you? I haven't seen you before."

Russia smiled eerily and leaned down. He switched to Italian, accent heavy. "I'm Russia, little one. Would you like to become with my country? We could do very well with your warm sun."

France swore, all ready to swoop down and save his little brother from the evil Russian, when the small boy smiled like an angel and then tried to wrap his arms around Russia's shins. It was a poor excuse of a hug.

"You talk funny! I like it, though. Your jacket is very fluffy, sir," Veneziano said happily. "You do not need a sun with a jacket like this, no?"

Russia felt his icy heart melt a little and a real smile bloomed on his face. He leaned down and gently patted Italy's head, taking care not to push so harshly as he would with Latvia. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"How much does he remember?" France asked Spain in hushed English.

Antonio winced. "I'd say a little before the 1800s."

"Oh?"

Spain locked eyes with his friend, not wanting to open old scars. "He still remembers that one. He doesn't know yet about…"

The color drained from France's face. He sat back down in a chair, suddenly not trusting his knees to support him.

Every nation knew that the time back then had been different. The dissolution of nations had been—not normal exactly, but a real risk for everyone not powerful enough. But Italy's breakdown in 1806 had been far, far from pretty.

"Ah," he said simply. He laughed mirthlessly, a finger coming up to trace the edges of his beard. "I suppose it's time for big brother France to become the bad man again, then."

America frowned. "What's going on? What are you talking about?"

Russia clicked his tongue. "Dumb American. Do you read nothing? No history books? No calorie labels?"

"Hey! Shut it, commie, I'll let you talk when you get your huge nose out of a manifesto!"

Italy tapped Russia. "Mister Russia, what language are you speaking?"

"Don't you worry about that, little sunflower."

Spain sighed and slapped France on his back once. "Cheer up, amigo. No need to get in the sad dumps. Little Ita is like this for only a week, there's no reason for you to tell him about… that."

"What do we do with him?" America asked. "I can send troops to stabilize Italy but—"

"No," Spain said immediately. "Romano will not be happy about that. We all know what happened in South Korea, a few American soldiers and culture is almost at risk."

America went pink. "Well, sorry my folks are so awesome your history can't keep up!"

"Perhaps your 'folks' are not so awesome as they are intrusive, America," Russia said calmly, the ends of his scarf flapping in an invisible wind.

"What did you say, commie? Can't hear anything over Stalin's farts."

"Stop this!" Spain snapped, uncharacteristically focused. He breathed in deeply. "Romano and I can take care of him, of course, but we're just requesting that no one tries to take advantage of Italy at this moment. Politics have gotten so complicated that it's not invasion that I'm worried about so much as keeping Ita away from being shocked by all this…" He waved a hand. "Modernity."

"I don't understand, big brother Spain!" Italy whined, squirming. "I don't know what you're saying! What language is this?"

"English, little guy!" America said in Italian. "Best one in the world, trust me. Pick it up and you won't have any troubles wherever you go!"

"Ve, really?" Italy clapped his hands gleefully. "I want to learn it! But I'm not very good at learning things. It takes me time, Mr. Austria was very happy when I finally knew how to wash dishes."

Russia smiled and patted Italy again. "Spain, I could always look after this little one if you would like. He would make my home so bright."

"No! Absolutely not!" France snapped.

Russia glared, silencing the man immediately. Spain picked up where Francis left off.

"Russia, I know how cute Ita is, trust me," he said slowly in English, "but Romano would be the best person to take care of him. He knows Italian history the best, we can make sure nothing catches him off guard."

Russia pouted. "But… so happy and warm."

Italy laughed and snuggled closer to Russia. "I've never met someone so tall like you, mister Russia! I want to become just as big one day! Then I can make sure no one fights in my country, and we can all laugh and sing and eat pasta!"

"If this gets any more Sesame Street, I'm going to die," America said.

And then the door slammed open. Germany panted, running a hand through his hair to make sure everything was still gelled to perfection.

"What's this I heard about Italy?" he bellowed.

"Puta," Spain swore, and slapped a hand over his mouth as Veneziano gasped in horror. He'd forgotten that the little one knew Spanish perfectly.

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