This is a little oneshot I thought up due to Mussolini having been a massive manchild.
Both Italy and Germany sat backstage at one of Mussolini's seminars, tiredly observing the dictator thrill his people with dramatic hand gestures and grand claims of conquest.
"You know, Italy…" Germany began quietly, immediately regretting the decision to open his mouth. "Your boss is kind of…"
Italy looked up at the nation, who towered over him even as they sat. "What about my boss?" He asked in a tone that suggested he was hurt by Germany's pensive thought. Sudden guilt made the country pause. What right had he to criticize Italy's dictator when his own was just as bad, if not worse?
His gaze snapped back to Mussolini, who was now flailing about like a spoiled child, spouting some nonsense about showing the world Italy's crushing power. Italy let out a sort of ashamed mew as he looked towards Il Duce.
Germany released an exasperated sigh. "Well, he's… kind of…" he attempted once more, trusting that he wouldn't dig himself an even deeper grave. After all, hypocrisy aside, badmouthing his ally in the war that he started wasn't exactly the best idea.
"Eh… I know…" Italy's voice came as a surprise to him. The Italian sank down in his chair and tucked his chin into his chest, staring hard at Mussolini. He had the look of someone who'd been beaten down, crushed under the influence of something well out of his control. "Sometimes, I feel bad… that he is my boss."
Well dang, shortest story ever! I hope Germany and Italy aren't too OOC here. Also sorry to all you history fanatics for any historical inaccuracies.