This was just great. Romano had decided to pick a fight with Italy, and Italy was already close to tears. I was rubbing my forehead to try and ward off the oncoming headache.

"Roma, I don't see why you act like you hate me all the time!"

"I don't see why you hate me! You spend all your time with the potato bastard and don't ever seem to find time to spend with your own brother!" Romano was steaming, "I'm not the one at fault here!"

Italy burst out crying, "I might hang out with you more if you weren't such a big jerk!" And he ran away, slamming the door to his bedroom shut behind him.

I had half a mind to go after him, but I decided to try and cool down Romano first, "He doesn't hate you, you know."

"Yes he does. My only question is why. Why does he hate me? Why do you hate me?" He turned to look at me, not in tears, but upset nonetheless.

"I don't hate you. I just try to stay out of your way, because you hate me," I answered honestly.

"I don't hate you. I just hate that Veneziano loves you."

I blush, then try my best to hide it, "Italy doesn't love me."

"Yes he does, potato freak. I can prove it to you, too."

"How do you plan to do that?" I asked.

Romano thought for a moment, then replied, "We tell Veneziano we're a couple. If he says something about it, that means he's jealous, and he loves you. We'll both be going through hell, but it'll be worth it to prove a point to you."

"Zur Hölle, nein. There is no way you could get me to do that," the mere thought of dating Romano filled me with distaste, to say the very least.

"That's where you're wrong, bastardo di patate. You see this?" Romano held up a disk that was labeled German Sparkle Party, "Prussia gave it to me for whenever I need leverage against you. If you don't do what I say, I will e-mail this clip of the last time you got drunk to everybody. And the first one to get it? Veneziano."

I huffed out a breath, knowing I couldn't get out of this, "Fine. But just so you know I won't be enjoying myself at all."

"The feeling is mutual, sweetheart. Now help me cook some pizza, it's almost time for lunch."

By "help cook some pizza," I knew he meant clean up after him while he cooked the pizza, so that's what I did. Their kitchen looked better when I left than it did when I came in.

"Veneziano, it's time for lunch! I made pizza!" Romano called. Italy ran from his bedroom and glomped Romano.

"Fratello, I'm so sorry for calling you a jerk earlier! Is there any way you can forgive me?" Italy had nothing to be sorry for, why was he the one apologizing?

"Yeah, yeah, you're fine, just grab some pizza and sit. Ludwig and I have something to tell you." I glared at the use of my human name by Romano, who sits in a chair next to Italy and patted the other open seat next to him. I grudgingly sat down next to him.

"Veneziano," Romano took my hand and made sure Italy could see it, "Germany and I, we're," he had a hard time getting the word out, "dating."

Italy didn't respond, and I was wondering if we had broken him when he said, "Okay, that's good for you two!" He smiled, but I could tell it was fake.

"You don't have any problem with this?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Nope, not at all. As long as you and mio fratello are happy, then I'm okay with it."

Romano did something I didn't expect, and kissed me on the cheek, "See, il mio amore, I told you he wouldn't mind."

Italy opened his mouth, as if to say something, but decided against it and left the room.

I grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and took a drink, "How much longer are we going to have to keep this up?"

Romano wrinkled his nose, he could probably smell the beer, "Until he says something, which will hopefully be soon," he made a gagging noise, "The only reason why my idiot brother even buys those is in case you come over. That alone should be proof."

"I'm his friend, he asks me to come over all the time," I pointed out. As much as I wanted this to be over, I didn't want to admit Romano was right about something, even if that something was that Italy had feelings for me.

"Yeah, and every time he invites you over he hopes it'll turn into something more," he huffed, "Veneziano can flirt with girls, but he can't confess his feelings to you. Pathetic. You're not good enough for him anyways."

"Why are you doing this, then?"

Romano sighed, "Because ever since he met you, he's been happier than I've seen him in years. I warn you, though, break his heart, and I kick your ass."

I rolled my eyes. I still don't believe Italy has those kinds of feelings for me. Even if he did, there was no way I would do that to him.

The doorbell rang, and Italy ran to the door, "Big brother Spain is here, ve~."

"Fratello! Why did you have to invite the tomato bastard?!" he asked angrily as Italy answered the door.

Italy gave him a strange look as he confessed, "Because I need to talk to him about something, ve~."

"Hola, Italia. Hola, Lovi. What's going on?" Italy must not have told Spain about Romano and I "dating."

"Stop giving me those nicknames, tomato-eating bastardo!" Romano shouted at him. Italy took Spain's arm and dragged him into the room leading out of the kitchen. I could here hushed whispers from behind the door.

"Just the fact that he's here brings me even closer to proving myself right," Romano declared, "Do you still doubt me, potato head?"

"That's a new one," I commented on the name-calling. I looked up to see Italy and Spain staring at us, the door opened just a crack so they could see.

Romano must've seen them, too, because he took my hand again, "Call it a new pet-name. Do you like it?" He glared at me, daring me to make a move. I understood his reasoning, it would look suspicious if he was the only one being flirty.

I didn't know what else to do, so I wrapped my arms around his waste and pulled him into a kiss, and replied, "I love it," in between breaths. I kept it up, hating every second of it, until I heard the door shut again. I shoved Romano away, gasping, and took another huge swig of beer. Romano got some wine out of the fridge and didn't even bother pouring it into a glass, he just gulped half of it down.

"Anything to get the taste of your mouth out of my head," he remarked, "I can't wait for Veneziano to finally grow a pair and say something."

Italy and Spain came back into the kitchen, and Spain told Romano, "Here, I brought you a tomato, Lovi! Catch!" He threw the tomato, and it hit my face. I had the feeling that was on purpose.

"Stupido, you hit Germany!" He had a mischievous look in his eye, "Here, tesoro, let me help you with that," he started licking the splattered tomato off of my face, and I couldn't help but smirk as Spain's jaw dropped.

Italy stood there, fidgeting, "Um..."

Romano stopped licking me (he got most of the tomato anyway), "Si, fratello? Do you have something to say?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean, I did, but I don't have to say it anymore." I knew Italy was about to crack, so I tried my hardest to speed it up a bit.

"Really, Italy? Are you absolutely sure?" I asked. I began kissing Romano, first on his cheek, then I moved down to his neck. It was very awkward, but I could see Italy shaking, so it was working. Finally, we got a reaction out of him. Unfortunately, that reaction involved Italy roughly pushing me away from Romano and slapping me.

"Tu sei la persona più stupida del mondo!" I felt my heart pang as I saw Italy was crying. He also seemed to forget that I don't speak Italian.

"Allow me to translate," Romano was wrapped in Spain's protective embrace, "'You are the stupidest person in the world.' Why is that, Veneziano?"

"Because... Because... Because I don't approve of this relationship!" Italy hugged me tightly, "I'm sorry, Romano, but I'm in love with Ludwig Bielschmidt!"

"Ha! See that, potato bastard! I told you so!" Romano seemed to remember who was holding him, "Let go of me, Spagna! You don't have to be so possessive, the relationship was fake, anyways!"

Italy looked up at me, his brown eyes wide, "What?"

I sighed, "Romano blackmailed me into playing along so he could prove a point. And," I paused, not knowing whether I should reveal it, then whispered in his ear, "I'm in love with you, too, Feliciano Vargas." I wrapped my arms around him.

Italy grinned and relaxed in my arms, "I'm so happy to hear that." He kissed me, but not in greeting like usual. This kiss was warm and passionate, and he tasted of pasta and wine, two things I had taken a liking to since I met him. I couldn't believe it took me this long to realize that Italy was the best thing that ever happened to me.

"Hey Romano, do you want to go to my house for a little bit?" Spain asked, and Romano stopped struggling to get out of his grip.

"Hm. I guess. I think these two need some time alone. At least your house has tomatoes."

Whenever they left, Italy stopped and looked up, "Germany?"

I was smiling as I asked, "Ja, Italy?"

"What did Romano use to blackmail you?"

Author's Note:

Wow, my first one-shot is long.

I mostly wrote this so I could fill in the rest of my weekend, but I hope you still like it. I honestly don't know if I'm any good at humor at all, so please review and tell me. This story is mainly just for entertainment, so if I'm no good at humor, it will be a huge let-down. I hope you guys liked it, rock on, and bye (because I suck at goodbyes. :P)