Germany thought it was rather odd, waking up to silence. But it was probably because they got home late, and he shrugged it off as that, rolled over, and went back to bed. He had been asleep for half an hour before two girls bound into the room, shaking Germany awake.

"Vati!" the blond hissed. "Vati! Berlin and Rome are fighting again!"

The covers next to him shifted and Italy was sitting, stretching, and yawning. "Ve~? What's wrong?" he asked with a smile.

"Papa!" the brown haired girl said excitedly. Her expression turned grim though, as shouting came from downstairs. "Berlin and Rome are fighting. I'm scared."

Grunting, German forced himself up. "What are they arguing about?" he asked.

"I don't know!" the blond exclaimed. Her twin shook her head. "I- I heard Rome say something like, 'You're a stupid Nazi!' and then Berlin threw something at him and- oh, that lamp is shattered- and they ran around and snapped a chair in half and got Aster all hyped up and Blackie is freaking out and-"

Italy put a finger over her lips. "Sh," he said, rubbing an eye. "Slow down Dusseldorf. Venice, do you have anything to say?"

The girl shook her head, the curl at the back of her head waving slightly. "I'm scared."

Germany pulled Dusseldorf and set her on the bed, then set Venice next to her. "I'll-" he looked at Italy- "we'll be right back. Okay?"

"Okay!" the girls chimed.

Rubbing his face, Germany led Italy downstairs, where curses in both German and Italian were being shouted out. On instinct, Germany took a step back, but Italy did not, and he was nailed in the head with a tomato.

"Hey!" Italy said, putting on a fake pout. "Ah! Prussia?"

Germany's gaze instantly shot to his older brother, who was desperately trying to hold Rome back. The small boy was failing, waving a spatula up and down, his amber eyes ablaze with anger.

"Lasciami andare! Lasciami andare!" Rome was exclaiming. Prussia bared his teeth when the spatula hit him in the face, and out of anger he dropped Rome on the ground.

"Stinking brat!" Prussia exclaimed. He lunged for Rome, grabbed his wrist, and jerked back, pulling him high into the air. "What the hell was that for, eh? Leave Berlin alone for God's sake!"

"Stupid Nazi!" Rome exclaimed, pointing to Berlin. The blond in question got a shocked look and threw another tomato.

"I'm not a Nazi you stupid Italian!" Berlin exclaimed, slamming his gloved hands down on the table. Like his father, Berlin was always in uniform before leaving his room in the morning. But now, it was covered in tomato, milk, cereal, and shattered pieces of glass were found in his messy hair. Even his glasses had a crack through one of the lenses.

Italy clapped his hands. "Bambini! Why are you fighting like this?"

Berlin almost colapsed, gripping onto the end of the table. "He keeps saying..." he took shallow breaths, weak from running around the house for so long. "I told him...that his pasta was disgusting. His pasta, his pizza, everything!"

"It is not you stupid Nazi!" Rome exclaimed. Prussia grasped the boy's hands and held them still, the spatula mark hardly disappearing from his cheek. "My pasta is amazing and you know it!"

"Your fighting over pasta?" Germany asked, rubbing his temples.

Prussia shook his head. "I walked in here and they were arguing about who was better," he said. "It was like a combination of both- whose culture was better, whose cities were better, food, everything like that! That is SO not awesome!"

A sad look crossed Italy's face. "Oh dear," he mumbled. Everyone knew the brothers didn't get along in the slightest; one wrong word set them off, and this had to be the worst the men had ever seen it. "Come here Rome."

With a shrug Prussia dropped the boy again. Rome ran over to Italy, hugging him tightly.

"My pasta's not bad," he mumbled, tears forming. Italy grabbed Rome's hand and led him away, while Berlin kept a straight face.

The moment the two Italians had left, Berlin broke down sobbing. He dropped to the floor, leaning against the table leg, hands covering his face. He didn't move when Germany and Prussia knelt down beside him, and ingored them when they tried to talk.

"Berlin- hey, listen to me!"

His hands didn't move. Germany rubbed the boy's back, eyebrows furrowed. He looked to Prussia, but his brother shrugged and shook his head, mouthing, 'I don't know!'

Suddenly, as Germany was about to stand up, Berlin reached over and hugged him tight, burrying his face into Germany's soft shirt.

"Why does he keep calling me that?" he asked, voice muffled. Germany sighed and began to pick glass out of Berlin's hair.

"I don't-"

"I wasn't even alive!" Berlin exclaimed. He hugged Germany tighter, feeling Prussia's hand on his shoulder.

"Of course not! You're only, what, 14?" Prussia asked. He sighed. "I'll be right back."

Germany slowly pulled Berlin away. The boy's face and eyes were red, and he kept rubbing his nose and the corners of his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," Berlin mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and walked away, an aura of dejectedness surrounding him. "I'm sorry, Vati."

"You don't have to be."

Shocked, Berlin turned. He'd always learned to be strong, keep emotions in check...

"Even I do not agree with what Rome had said," Germany said.

"Papa?"

The blonds jumped when Venice came skipping down the stairs, the bow in her hair billowing out softly. Berlin, seeing the Italian girl, took steps back, biting his bottom lip.

"What is it?" Germany asked.

"Where's Rome?"

"Right here," came a grumbling voice. Italy had Rome's hand and was walking back into the room. His golden eyes were narrowed, and he glared at Berlin as he walked by. "What do you want?"

Venice frowned. "Um...er...nothing," she said quietly, scurrying away.

Italy gestured for Germany and Berlin to follow him and the four walked into the living room, sitting on the couch. Berlin was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, gaze directed away from them.

He was the first one to speak. "I'm not a Nazi, you stupid Italian."

Rome was silent.

"Come on, boys, play nice," Italy said, desperately trying to calm them. "We can't have you destroying each other at six in the morning!"

"Stupid Nazi woke me up," Rome hissed.

"I did not!" Berlin exclaimed. "Stop calling me that!" He rubbed his eyes again. "I hate being called that!" He was trying not to cry again, but when he felt tears fall down his face, he let out a sob. Rome's narrowed eyes and deep frown turned into wide, shocked eyes and his mouth slightly open.

Rome stood up. "Why are you crying you stupid Nazi?" he exclaimed. "Stop it!" He was rubbing his eyes now.

"Guys, stop fighting and sit down!" Germany snapped. Rome spun around.

"Nein!" he exclaimed. Germany jerked back, never before hearing his son speaking anything other than Italian. Italy grabbed Germany's hand. "Warum ist er zu weinen, eh?"

Berlin choked back another sob and looked away. Rome was going crazy, he though, switching between German, Italian, and English.

"Why?" Rome asked. "Why are you crying?" He rubbed tears away from his face.

"I'm not a Nazi," Berlin squeaked. Rome punched him in the arm rather weakly.

"You never were," Rome said. "You never were. I don't know what to say. Stop staring at me, you stupid Nazi!"

Germany looked at Italy. It seemed as if Rome had been bestowed with Romano's temper. Before it got any worse, Germany stood up.

"Boys, stop it," he said. "Rome, go with Italy and change your clothes. Berlin, come with me and we'll find you a clean uniform and get the glass out of your hair."

Biting his bottom lip, Berlin stood up and followed, grabbing Germany's hand. He looked back at Rome, who was staring at him, not even trying to stop the tears.

Shinzu: I was in an angsty mood. xI So. Drabbles...maybe some two or three part stories...whatever.

I've tried like 7 times to write a chapter to start my story. Hm. Yeah. This is the best I've come up with. Rome is a jerk. He started as a friendly little moron, but then I typed him really mean...and I loved it. He's like Romano. There'll be other families here, too~ Hence 'and Friends' in the title.

Enjoy~