I do not own Hetalia.

...

"What, is this a pasta with mini burger patties?"

"It's spaghetti e polpette, bastard." Romano, in favor of savoring the driest wine that he demanded Veneziano to bring him, was palliative in responding to his lover's stupid remark.

"A meatball, huh? But this is like a patty, but spherical," America commented. He raised a fork with a piece of polpette on it to his eye level and inspected it thoroughly.

"Well yeah, they have the same basic ingredients."

"Wow Romano, this is really good. Look at how well and nice these two are blended together, this meatball is complementing the pasta so well. And even though the spaghetti is fine as it is, with the meatball, it's perfect. They're, like, married to each other!"

"Hm," Romano hummed, his gaze landing at America's plate. Of course it had to be perfect, after all, he cooked the pasta knowing that his lover would eat it. "Give me a bite."

America did give him a bite, smiling expectantly as he waited for Romano's verdict as though he was the one who made the dish and not the other way around. When Romano nodded his head, the superpower beamed at him.

It was good, but he was more in the mood for a full-bodied and mercilessly tannic wine so he let America do the eating while he did the drinking. He had to hand it to his stupid little brother, though, this Nebbiolo Barolo was really rich and powerful. He could tell the distinctness of it and it was quite suitable for satisfying his craving.

"If marriage was this easy, I would've married you ten times already. I mean we're just like this pasta and this meatball, we're perfect for each other," America commented again, his face as casual as ever, like he wasn't talking about things that made Romano's heartbeat faster.

"Hm." Romano faintly smiled in return. He couldn't formulate a proper response since the higher alcohol content of the wine was making him tipsy earlier than normal. And then there was this immense pleasure from watching America eat his cooking that made him elated, like he was high or something.

"You know I really wanna marry you, right? Like you as in you and not Italy Romano, like a marriage between you and me and not a union between America and South Italy. Fuck union between countries, it only complicates a lot of things more than necessary."

Romano noticed a scant of sauce staining the side of his lover's mouth. How dare that relish kiss his America's lips. "Wipe your mouth," he said, tossing a silk table napkin. When the superpower did, the half-nation speaks again, remembering their previous topic, "marry me, then."

"Oh, are you proposing to me?"

"Well, yeah bastard, that's the connotation of it."

America's eyes widened in surprised, but instead of disbelief and incredulity, Romano found as he looked at them that they were twinkling in excitement. Of how he could tell was because the superpower immediately covered his mouth with his hand in an unmanly manner before he squealed.

"Oh, my Romano! I'm so happy! You can't take it back now, you can't take it back! There's gotta be work to do! I'll see you later okay, I love you!" was all America said in one breath before placing a quick kiss on Romano's cheek and speedily making his way out.

It left Romano in a dazed, confused to what had just occurred. Though he figured, this was as best as it could get, he was already contemplating how to pop the question anyway. He sipped his wine and thought through, maybe he was influenced by a bit of alcohol, but his proposal was definitely sincere. He just wondered what work could America possibly mean?

.

That's how it all started, and now, here they are, exchanging vows at Brush Creek Ranch in southern Wyoming in a cooperatively fine weather. Actually, it's more than just cooperative; it's like the heavens are blessing them with how remarkably excellent the weather is today. The air is just the right amount of breezy and although the sun is a bit glaring, the tall trees that surround the area are enough to shade them.

Romano stands firm, his face donning an expression mixed of disinterest, neutrality and indifference, like he's just trying to humor everyone by getting along with their antics and he just wants to end this as soon as possible. But deep inside, he's trying his hardest to control the pounding of his heart. His nerves are already partying without his consent and he's just about to collapse. God, he's so nervous, in more ways than one, and his knees are weakening as the clock keeps on ticking. Luckily, America seems to be aware of his inner dilemma as he gives Romano's hand a tight yet comforting grip.

As Romano continues to hide his emotions with an almost blank face, he chances a glance at America's face and finds that the superpower is, as always, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He can't seem to contain the overjoy he feels right now, judging by the wide and dazzling smile that never leaves his lips. Damn, his America is truly charming.

Both of them wear elegant black velvet suits with subtle gold linings and compact diamonds adorning the collar and pocket seams. They finish the look with matching western topaz bolo ties, though while America's stone is Swiss Blue like the color of his eyes, Romano's is a Poppy Topaz to accentuate his eyes. To make the couple stand out more, each and every one of their guest wears a preferred fashion without any color but white (because some of them are just naturally flamboyant and like to be flashy.) They have gone with the color black due to the psychological meaning that black is both 'unfriendly and intimidating yet refined' and 'strong, powerful and confident' which describe Romano and America respectively.

This wedding is only a simple marriage between Alfred F. Jones and Lovino Vargas. Like what America has said before, a marriage or union between nations creates unnecessary complications, and it's not like he wants South Italy to merge with The United States of America, he merely wants to be with his Alfredo. So with that in mind, they have decided that in lieu of incriminating their bosses to the event, they have just left them in the dark. This is a personal thing, anyway.

In conformity with that, the rest of the nations who have heard the news, seem to share the sentiment as they give their approval with such compassionate feelings. If only for the sake of the couple's big and memorable day, they have come with lighthearted atmosphere as they set aside and forget any tension one has to another. It's just like a simple family gathering; they momentarily condone their role as nations and have arrived as supportive relatives and friends. If only for one day, peace is enveloping America and Romano's world. (Though light bickering and unsophisticated childish foolishness are still present and about, but that goes without saying.)

Their guest list consists of a lot of nations that Romano isn't sure he knows. Apart from the usual gang who he's so used to run away from, there are others who he doesn't even know the name of. But before the ceremony has started, he has involuntarily memorized each of the attendees. Earlier, when he's been fighting his pre-wedding jitters, he paced the waiting room so much that his stupid little brother felt the need to restrain him by literally locking him in his arms. They've stayed like that for nearly an hour so Veneziano has taken the opportunity to tell him the people that have come.

Posing as America's family, England as his older brother, Canada as his twin brother and France as his uncle ("Onii-san is not that old!") are present. On the other hand, since Spain is the only one he can tolerate to act as his family, he joins Veneziano as Romano's immediate family. And of course, the Allied Forces just have to be completed so Russia and China, who asked Hong Kong to go with him, are present, as well. Japan, who's a close friend of America, has come with his stupid little brother and together, they've urged Germany to come along. And knowing that Germany is attending, Prussia decides to grace his awesomeness to the couple, despite Romano's objection. Apparently, Veneziano has handed the invitation to Austria and Hungary, who's hauling Lichtenstein with her. And with Lichtenstein comes a neutral-faced Switzerland saying it's "for free food." Furthermore, his stupid little brother has extended the invitation to Turkey because he saved them from a pick-pocketer last time they visited, and Turkey drags a protesting Greece with him, who seems to brighten up at the sight of Japan.

Since Romano doesn't really have any close friend he can call, his stupid little brother settled in inviting Belgium, and with the signora comes Netherlands. Finland is present, as well, because of his claims that he called himself America's big brother once. He arrived with Sweden in tow, no one really questions why. Denmark and Norway are lugging an unwilling Iceland and have decided to tag along to complete The Nordic Five. Sealand wants to be a part of it, too, so together with his micronation friends: Wy-chan, Seborga, Molossia, Hutt River, Kugelmugel and Ladonia, he followed Finland to the venue.

Another one who claims to be America's close friend is Lithuania, who rubs Romano the wrong way for some unexplainable reason. With him are two other trembling guys, Estonia and Latvia. And the three of them quietly sit close to Ukraine and Belarus who have trailed along with Russia. Poland is there, as well, because "seriously, I wanna, like, see the dudes tying the knot." Lastly, France thinks "it's a magnefique idea" to invite Seychelles and Monaco, so they have come, as well.

These guests are now watching America and Romano saying "I do" to each other as Alfred and Lovino. Some are gentle with their cheers, while some are less dignified. It suddenly occur to Romano that these people are the witnesses as they finally become one. Whether it's reassuring or not is still debatable, though.

The ceremony flashes in an instant on Romano's mind. He doesn't really know what he's doing and he can't tell if he's responding or not, but seeing as the flow is smooth, he must be moving on autopilot. Seriously, the only thing that's anchoring him right now is America's hand that's still firmly held by his. This is it, isn't it? He's tying the knot with this person, they're going to enter a married life together, he's going to have a wife soon. Even though America and South Italy can't be considered as lawfully wedded partners, Alfred and Lovino certainly can call themselves as one.

As they approach the time to seal their union with a kiss, Romano feels hesitant to show even the slightest PDA to their guests. He doesn't like anyone to see an intimate moment shared by him and his lover, not even his family and decisively not the non-family members. But well, okay, since everyone here has made this day a special one, he supposes he can show them a little. Therefore, with so much anticipation from the crowd, Romano places a contracted yet sweet kiss on America's lips with the latter appearing to read his mind as he responds with his own brief one. They stare at each other for a long moment after parting, their gazes full of affection for each other and a promise of more for later.

In the background, their guests are going wild with their reaction and impudent suggestions of more, but Romano ignores them altogether as he brings his arms to embrace America. America automatically returns the hug and it thankfully silence the crowd. It's a sentimental second, a passionate and a private one held by the two of them, and the rest are opportunely adept at reading the atmosphere enough to keep quiet and give the sacred seconds to the newly-wedded couple. Ultimately, Romano plants a special kiss on America's cheek with a silent whisper of "I love you."

.

The reception has also come by a flash, they have eaten, they have drunk, and they have celebrated. The next thing that Romano knows is that he's watching everyone and no one in particular as he sips a glass of Pinot Noir.

"Hey wifey!" America's distinct voice resonating on his side awakes Romano from his short-lived stupor. The superpower flings an arm over Romano's shoulder and looks at him with that adorably childish expression of his.

"Hey to you too, mia moglie," he replies, emphasizing the Italian terms. He assumes that America is by now proficient in Italian and thus can understand what Romano is implicating. The mock annoyance followed by a faint smirk proves his assumption.

"How's it going, dear?"

Romano's gaze lands in the general direction of the crowd, noticing that their guests are unsurprisingly making fools of themselves. "These bastards are getting drunk on my wedding day," he huffs, causing America to laugh at him.

"Hahaha! They wouldn't be themselves if they aren't. Just let them, we owe them that much for making this as private as possible."

"I know that, bastard."

It's not like he's really complaining, it's just in his character to voice out such things. But America knows that and he, perhaps, also wants to state it just for the sake of it. After all, both of them feel quite skittish at the moment. They haven't even spoken of the matter of being married to each other yet as though it still hasn't sinked in yet. But being tied together isn't what's new per se, their heartstrings have been locked to each other for a long time already, it is more on the fact that Alfred and Lovino's relationship has been formally legalized. Romano figures that marriage is nonetheless an entirely different level.

As they stand side by side together while leaning on a wooden table and facing the wide space of the banquet, France slowly approaches them, a stupidly knowing grin plastered on his face.

"Allô, mon cher charmant couple! This is such a lovely day, I must say. Félicitation to the both of you! Thank you for making onii-san a part of this memorable day of yours," the Frenchman singsongs, his hand moving to wipe a non-existent tear.

Normally, Romano will instantaneously hide from France for more than one reason, but this isn't a normal day so instead, he just accepts the greetings without a word and lets America speak for the two of them.

"Haha! Thank you France, I mean uncle France!"

"You wound me, mon chouchou. I don't look that old, do I?"

America pauses for a second, then offering France one of his saccharine smile, he says, "No you don't, you're just mature and you suit being my uncle more."

France seems to be pleased with this as his expression turns soft. "I'm happy for the both of you." He comes closer at the both of them and motions for a hug, but before his wide-spread arms can even touch his America, Romano's hand automatically gives France's shoulder a firm push. Likewise, America appears to stop France's other shoulder from making contact with Romano. It's almost comical how they move in sync to protect the other from the Frenchman's advances even though it's just a hug. When it's from France, it's never safe.

"No touching," "Back off," America and Romano says simultaneously, effectively halting France's movement.

When France retreats his arms, he smiles at Romano in particular. "Little Romano is so brave today, standing in front of all the powerful nations all in the name of l'amour. Truly, onii-san is proud."

"Shut up, you bastard," Romano says instinctively. He can feel his face flushing at the comment. Of course he feels brave. It takes a lot more of that just to get where he is now, after all.

"Well then, I'll leave the two of you for now. Maybe onii-san will also find his l'amour out there," bidding them goodbye, he gives each a wink and proceeds back to the crowd.

Consequently, when the two are alone again, China inches toward them with a smile.

"America! And Italy Romano, too! Congratulations to you! May prosperity come to your life as it will be a bumpy ride ahead," he sighs, producing a look of deep fondness in the process. "Young people nowadays... they are either really boorish or really lovely. Anyway, I'd like to thank you for inviting this old man to witness such event-aru."

"Thank you for coming, China! Hahaha, you really talk like an old man!"

Romano only offers the man a vague smile and lets the two of them converse. From the distance, he hears a boisterous laughter that's annoying his ears. When he glimpses at the crowd, he finds Prussia flaunting his self-proclaimed awesomeness. He rolls his eyes and prays that they won't bump into each other later.

After a while, China walks off and leaves America as he starts to talk to thin air. Or so Romano thinks until the said air addresses him.

"Italy Romano, congratulations." The familiar soft spoken mannerism helps Romano to identify him as Canada, America's twin brother. He smiles at him and Romano returns it with a nod.

"I guess Al is your problem now, no taking it back," Canada adds and his unexpected sense of humor causes Romano to smirk.

"True, I guess." They deliberately ignore America's whines as they clink their glasses for a toast.

"You two, congratulations!" Romano startles at the sudden appearance of Russia, he seems to materialize out of nowhere. While America scoots a little closer to his side, Romano watches Canada slipping away noiselessly without an effort. Before he knows it, it's only Russia who's crowding them now.

"Russia! Thank you for coming!" America says a little warily, his stance immediately turning alert and protective in the presence of said man.

"Since America is my friend, and little Italy big brother is also my friend, I'm happy for the both of you, ehe," Russia says and the two can only smile in response even though Romano wants to grumble so badly. America, however, continues to match Russia's eerie smile with his own, they've been at each other for a couple of minutes before England comes to them.

"Geh, England is drunk, I'm gonna leave then," Russia announces and quickly heads back to the crowd to avoid the upcoming trouble than the English bastard carries with him.

"America," England speaks calmly, his unfocused gaze the only indication that he's wasted. The two watch him without a word. But then, he starts to draw near America as a sob escapes his lips, "I can't believe you're married now, my little angel grew up so fast..." and then he cries in America's arms.

For a moment, Romano can only blink at him in bewilderment. He never knows England is this kind of drunk, and to think that he's been scared at the Englishman for centuries. He lets himself chuckle at the display as America turns to look at him, his eyes pleading for help. Romano ponders it for a second, but seeing how England looks sincerely fond of America right now, he decides he can provide them some family moment.

Shaking his head a little bit, he speaks, "The bastard is just fulfilling his 'big-brother duties', let him be for a while."

"Oh my god," is America's only reply, which results a laugh from Romano. Though later on, America snakes his own arms around England as he supports his weight, the look on his eyes going tender and warm. "Geez, what do I do with you, you old man."

"America you stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

The two laugh at England and fail to notice that someone else is sneaking behind them. Romano doesn't realize it until someone throws himself on him.

"Romano!"

Spain's voice echoes in his ears as he hugs Romano sideways. The latter is resisting so hard, but it does nothing to pry away the other person. "Tomato bastard, let go of me! You jerk!"

"No, my cute little henchman, let boss hug you for a bit."

America, watching in the sideline, gives Romano a mischievous look. "I need to put this old man to sleep so I'll let you two have a 'family time' for a while." Then he smiles and leaves, not even waiting for Romano's response as he stares at him in disbelief.

"Spain, you bastard, unhand me now," he protests, but still to no avail.

"My cute little Romano has a wife now, you're all grown up. Boss is really happy," Spain, a little drunk himself, slurs on his words.

"Fine, you're happy. I get it, now let me go."

"Oh my, cute little Romano!" Not far from them, Belgium's call snatches his attention as she advances toward him. He briefly abandons his plan on winkle Spain away in favor of facing Belgium. "Congratulations to you, where's your better half?"

"He just went inside for a bit," he responds, smiling gratefully at the greetings.

"Time flies so quickly, isn't it? I still remember the time you were asking for a kiss and then turning red when I said I'll kiss you, you were so cute back then," Belgium reminisces for a moment, causing Spain to insert his own comment of "That's right, mi tomate is so cute."

"Shut up, bastard," he murmurs to the nearly insensible Spain and forces his face not to flush in embarrassment, though that's proven impossible. "That was so long ago, I don't remember it anymore."

Belgium lightly chuckles then, "Anyway, congratulations again, send my greetings to America, too, okay? I'll just go find my onii-chan."

"Yeah, thank you," Romano says and let her go.

Concurrently, America returns to him just as Belgium leaves, but upon seeing Spain still sticking to Romano, the superpower frowns. "Hey, you've been hanging quite literally at him for five minutes now. C'mon, it's time to let go."

Spain sends him a look, then he smiles drunkenly. "America, you two are so cute today."

"What? Making fun of me again?" America questions while gently peeling his hands off of Romano, much to the latter's relief. Fortunately, Spain seems to stir from his drunken state as he stands clearheadedly.

"Mi hijos, congratulations to both of you," he says eventually and the couple doesn't miss the tears that slip from his eyes.

"Gracias."

When Spain can't hold his tears anymore, he excuses himself with a smile. Romano feels his emotions going mushy, looks like such events are making him tenderhearted and sappy. He, himself, has to try his hardest not to cry. Gladly, America is there to pat his back and console him.

Later on, as if he's just waiting for Romano to calm down, Japan comes into their view.

"America-san, Romano-san, omedetou gozaimasu. Best wishes to the two of you," he says, bowing ever so politely to them, making Romano feel inclined to return the gesture.

"Thank you, Japan. Thanks for coming, too," America replies.

"Ah, yes, I feel honored to attend such a life-changing event for my friends. I hope you continue to find happiness with each other." Japan gives them a sincere smile, then as if remembering something, he states further, "And please make lots of babies."

With this, Romano's face colors brightly, the undertone of Japan's words making him blush for multiple reasons. When he side-glances at America, he is met with a mirror expression of his own. The superpower's face is as flushed as his.

On the other hand, this outcome seems to amused Japan as he smiles knowingly. "My, my, it appears that what I said has a great impact to the both of you."

"Haha! Japan, you're a nice friend. Thanks again for coming!" America randomly supplies, Romano only clears his throat.

"Well then, I'll excuse myself. Good luck to you both." Without waiting for a response, Japan goes off. Romano realizes, then, that Japan is also freakish in his own way.

"Fratello!"

Romano winces at the voice calling him. "Here he comes," he murmurs, his tone casual and unconcerned. But in reality, he's been waiting for Veneziano to approach him.

"Congratulazioni, fratello and America! Tanta felicità! I'm really happy for you. I can't believe il mio fratellino has a wife now, I'm so happy." And naturally, like a stupid brother he is, Veneziano hugs Romano and proceeds to dampen his shoulder with his flowing tears.

"Veneziano," Romano whispers, allowing a tear to escape. "Grazie."

Veneziano breaks the hug and turns to America to give him one, "America, congratulations, fratello is lucky to have you."

"Haha! Thank you, Italy. I'm also lucky to have him."

Parting from America, his stupid little brother grins at them, "Ve~"

"America, and also Romano," a deep voice grabs their attention rightly afterwards, showing Germany, who's apparently being hauled by Veneziano since earlier, "congratulations to you two."

"Thank you, Germany!" America replies and once again, Romano just lets him do the talking lest he'll just make an uncalled-for rude remark.

"Yeah, best wishes. Now then, Italy, let's leave them for a while and let the two have their moment," Germany says, persuading his brother to go with him and for once, Romano is actually glad that the potato bastard is breaking him and Veneziano apart.

"Ve~ Okay, I'll see you later fratello, cognato!"

Once again, the couple find themselves alone with each other.

"So," America speaks, his tone uncharacteristically not loud and asking for attention, "this is it, isn't it?"

Romano looks at him and not for the first time, he feels constricted merely because America looks breathtakingly gorgeous. "I guess so."

"We're married now."

"That, we are."

America smiles, shyly if Romano may say, and it arises a similar own from himself. It's so simple yet it's not. A simple occasion, an ordinary day, a normal event, yet for the two of them, it's more important than any holiday and more meaningful than any celebration. After all, it's not simply an occasion to be celebrated. It's a start of a new beginning, like a gate opening for a new life.

Tomorrow, they're going to travel for their honeymoon vacation. America is probably going to teach him how to design a jet aircraft, how to customize a vehicle and such and then they're going to compete in an outdoor shooting range in Houston. But that's only the first day, the next day, Romano is going to introduce America to the world of adults and intimacy and romantic life, he's going to introduce America to Romano's world. And then the next day, and the next of the next, they're going to hold onto each other as they fumble through married life.

The wedding is just the prologue of their new story, the beginning, the first step, the commencement as they embark on a journey to a lifetime of togetherness. Their lives are slow, lingering and full of uninteresting seconds, minutes, hours, but as they hold each other's hand, every moment is special. America will remain as The United States of America, a young yet powerful nation and Romano will stay as Italia Romano, the southern part of Italy, but the people behind them, Alfred and Lovino, will be forever tied to each other—officially and sentimentally.

...

I'm accepting all forms of reaction, from calm and normal to bloody and trashy, just send me a review if you have some. Thanks a lot for checking it out!

Notes:

Nebbiolo Barolo is a dry wine from North Italy known for its particularly high tannin content while Pinot Noir is a red wine common for wedding or celebration as it goes well with any food.

spaghetti e polpette (It. ) - spaghetti and meatballs / mia moglie (It.) - my wife / mi hijos (Sp.) - my sons / Tanta felicità! (It.) - Tons of happiness for your future! / il mio fratellino (It.) - my brother / cognato (It.) - brother-in-law

A/N: It's the end game, they're officially married.