Italy ran about in distortion as he attempted to greet and serve everyone simultaneously. That was his job as host after all.
He didn't mind hosting the Christmas party this year, it was always fun for him to see all his friends in one place. Though England always set him on edge, particularly when he was in his own house. It was however, inevitable as Alfred had been invited and ultimately dragged Arthur along with him. Italy simply made it his goal to give England a wide birth.
Russia was sitting on one of Italy's many sofa's along with Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, each of the latter more nervous than the last. Germany was attempting to hold Prussia back from jumping atop every semi-attractive country that passed in front of him and for all his hard work was rewarded with a harsh: "West! Let me go!"
Spain and Romano were working feverishly in the kitchen, chopping what smelled like garlic as they tossed it in with sliced beef. Anytime anyone other than Italy attempted to walk into the kitchen, Romano would grab a knife from a drawer and brandish it threateningly at the trespasser.
They would inevitably leave.
As Italy went into the kitchen to grab himself and Germany a plate of pasta and whatever else he could scavenge from the raided pantries he was stopped by Romano.
"Don't give that potato bastard pasta!"
He then slapped a raw potato onto one of the two plates Italy was carrying, causing the pasta to fall askew as the Potato took up most of the space on the place.
"Ve?" Italy questioned in innocent confusion as he was pushed from the kitchen. He looked about for Germany before spotting the taller blonde haired man. Rushing with child like excitement to give Germany his food Italy failed to notice England walking through the crowd in a way that crossed paths with Italy at the exact wrong moment.
Italy, tripping over England's foot he waved his hands in a windmill like motion in order to keep from falling forward, however this only succeeded in sending the pasta and potato flying toward Germany who took almost full force of the impact of sauce and carbohydrates as Italy still continued to fall forward, landing at Germany's feet.
There was a silence throughout the whole house as Italy's face lit a bright red while he feverishly stood on shaky knee's and apologized profusely.
"Mi dispiace tanto! Mi dispiace, mi dispiace, mi dispiace!" Italy shook his head and out of some habit pulled out a white flag and began shaking it around. Giggles could be heard from the crowd of gathered countries, only causing Italy to blush even more than before, his eyes drooping.
However, Germany wasn't concerned with the crowd, he was far more concerned with the thing that rested above Italy's head on the ceiling. A stereotypical mistletoe with three green leaves and three red berries planted itself tauntingly above Italy's head.
Germany pointed toward it, causing Italy to look up.
"Italien, what is the significance of this?" He wasn't at all fazed by Italy's bumble as it was something he had grown accustomed to.
"Ve? Well...I think you're supposed to kiss someone if you're underneath it."
Germany was silent for a moment.
"We are both underneath it, Ja?"
Italy looked up in surprise only to be met with Germany's bright blue eyes staring at him intently, much closer than before.
"I-I suppose..." Italy trailed as he unconsciously raised on his tiptoes. Germany bent his neck slightly as he rested his lips lightly against Italy's, adding a gentle pressure to assure dominance, as it came naturally.
Italy was the first to pull away as he stuttered and blushed his way to the kitchen, as an excuse to move.
Germany smiled fondly as he raised a finger to his lips. All he could really think of was of how the other country had tasted like tomato sauce.