It was a dark and stormy night when the Roman Empire came back from the dead. Well, not the dead really, since he had just disappeared at some point and no one knew where he'd gone. So…he came back from a vacation, perhaps.
Anyway, that night, two Italians were slouched against each other in front of a roaring fire, having fallen asleep with bellies full of…food. Maybe it was pasta. I dunno. Soon there was a loud knock on the thick wooden door, like thunder, booming through the large stone house.
"Gah." The elder of the two brothers bolted upright and turned to see that the fire had dwindled to glowing embers. The younger smiled sleepily.
"It's just the thunder, go back to sleep, Fratello."
Romano eyed the door suspiciously but concluded that it must have been thunder, because dark and stormy nights come with those. Veneziano yawned and curled in on himself like a small animal, such as a cat, for example. Because we all know that he's kind of a—
BOOM!
Romano stretched and padded to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa.
"Want some? I mean, we're up now, so might as well."
"Yeah, sure."
The two Italians were sitting contentedly by the rekindled fire, steaming mugs of cocoa in hand when the window was fatally stabbed, raining glass on the brothers and the fireplace and the carpet and the couch and the rug and really anywhere it would have been logical for glass to rain after a window had been broken by the sword of a very damp and irritated Roman Empire. But they, being very old nations, had developed defense mechanisms trained into their muscle memory, and sprang into action.
The Roman Empire threw his sword down and stuck a stunning, statuesque pose, before face palming forcefully. The elder grandson was cowering behind the couch, and the younger was cowering behind a white flag that was very, very tiny and very, very pathetic, kind of like his—
"GET UP LEGIONS! THE TIME HAS COME TO RECLAIM THE EMPIRE!"
Veneziano peeked out from his flag and Romano crawled out from behind the couch.
"Nonno? What the fuck?"
France was surprised and very pleased to see a red-faced Romano at his doorstep, twiddling his thumbs and looking very pretty in a tight, dark green button up, leather jacket, and black skinny jeans.
"Well Romano," He purred, "Do come—in."
Romano threw up in his mouth a little, but stepped inside, shedding his jacket. France shut the door, smugly. Romano took in his surroundings. Tastefully decorated and well lit, if nothing else. And a decanter of deep red wine, accompanied by two delicate, stemless glasses, placed on the entry hall table. Romano inhaled deeply and whirled around.
"OH GOD! What—"
"Oh hon hon hon, you flatter me. I know I am god-like in stature, but there is no need to be intimidated, mon petit—OH GOD! MY EYES, MY EYES!"
Romano threw the mace down and raced out the door, snatching France's wine and texting frantically as he sprinted to his Ferrari.
Pervert down Omw
Affirmative.
Activating Phase Two.
Is that you Nonno
?
No he is afraid of phones.
and cars
he refuses to use the toilet
I had to dig a ditch for him.
The very picture of the perfect English gentleman had just sunk with a sigh into his favorite seat with a cup of steaming coffee, (Yes. Coffee.) when his secretary burst into his office, heels skittering on the wooden floor, puffing and clutching her briefcase, bangs plastered to her forehead.
"Sir! There's been a distress call from Calais!"
England sat bolt upright, coffee jumping out of his hand, mug shattering on the desk and splashing a little on Nancy, who gasped and stumbled back, landing on her rump.
"Oh dear god! Nancy I'm so terribly sorry!" England dropped to his knees and ripped his handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing ineffectually at her blouse. "Nurse! Nurse! Can we get a nurse in here!"
Nancy blinked. "Ah, I'm fine, just a little startled, the bulletproof vest took most of it…"
England blubbered, "Oh, Nancy, I'm so very sorry! How much does it hurt? I do apologise!"
"Um, only a little. I—"
"NANCY! OH, NANCY WHAT HAVE I DONE?! NANCY—" England then passed out, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nancy cleared her throat loudly and hauled England's unconscious form off of herself, dumping him into his office chair. She took a moment to light herself one of England's expensive cigarettes and to help herself to his whiskey stash before exiting the office briskly, heels clacking on the hard wood floor, to fetch the smelling salts, right before a trembling Veneziano hoisted himself through the office window.
England down, Fratello.
I'm tying him onto the Vespa.
thank God
Come fix Nonno
What happened?
he wont stop crying
What? Why?
he accidentally turned on the TV
France woke as he had many times before, to his eyes blindfolded, his hands tied, and mouth gagged; which was strange, since he hadn't paid Sandrine for the last time yet. He heard muffled yelling and felt another person struggling valiantly against his back.
He gasped when the gag was ripped from his mouth.
"Where am I? What is the meaning of this? I demand that you remove these impediments!"
"Angleterre?"
"Frog?"
"SHUT UP!"
Both nations froze at the sound of a voice they hadn't heard in thousands of years.
"YOU ARE BOTH CLAIMED BY THE EMPIRE ONCE AGAIN. ROMANO, VENEZIANO, FREE GAUL AND BRITANNIA. THERE IS MUCH WORK TO BE DONE!"
The blindfolds and ropes were removed, France pulling England into a protective embrace. Romano sipped his liberated wine and smirked into his glass—"Gay."
The almighty Roman Empire glanced questioningly at his grandson.
"Huh?"
"What?"
"What did you just say, Lovino?"
"Um, I referred to them as gay. In a pejorative manner."
"Gay?"
"Oh, like, homosexual."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Romano scoffed, "Geez, I mean, wierdos, am I right? Who'd wanna do that? Gah."
The Roman Empire smiled warmly and clapped his grandson on the shoulder. "It's okay, Lovino, I like to have hot, passionate butt sex with other men too. It's perfectly natural."
Romano, paused, stunned.
"Me too fratello! When you meet your special someone you should try it sometime!"
Romano spewed a mouthful of red wine all over the stunned England and France.
