"Vatican, Vatican! Father Vatican!" Italy's voice surprised Vatican City as he sat, tending to his garden. Italy instantly rushed up to his brother.

"Feliciano? Is everything alright?" His voice was like an Italian Bob Ross, and his hair was like snow. He called everybody by their human names unless requested not to. He said that anybody would be welcome to call him by his real name, and to not use 'Father' but people still called him 'Father Vatican' or 'Vatican.'

"Oh, Father Vatican! I'm-a terrible!" He stood next to Vatican with tears in his amber eyes.

"Feliciano, what has happened?" His thick curl moved in the wind, standing on his right side, the same side Romano's curl was. Vatican was the eldest brother of the two, being of twenty six years old in human years. Yet somehow, Vatican City managed to be much shorter and thinner than either one of them.

"Oh, I'm a sinner! I've fallen in love-a with a man." His voice was panicked and desperate, as if begging Vatican to tell him that it was alright.

"Feliciano…Ah, come sit down with me." His voice was calm, almost too calm. It made Italy fear what Father Vatican was going to say, like he was about to punish him or tell him that he was damned to Hell for loving a man.

Vatican's pale hand gestured to the flowers. "Feliciano, what do you see?"

Italy looked up at Vatican City as if this were some sort of test. "Flowers, plants…"

"Yes. And those-a plants are life. From the outside, they are beautiful, colorful-a flowers. And in the inside, they are also beautiful, but they hold-a so much more." His voice was soothing, one you could fall asleep to.

Italy looked at him, confused, so Vatican simply continued. "Inside these-a flowers, there is life. Inside-a, is the ovaries, carrying the ovules. The stamen and the ovaries create life-a together." He paused "Inside this plant, there is so much more, though. More than petals and sepals and anthers and filaments. Inside of this plant, inside of every plant, every part of nature, is God. He is always watching us."

This was a very different way of looking at religion for Italy. He was a Catholic man, and as a child it was pounded into his head that there is one God, he's in Heaven, so you can't sin, don't masturbate, obey the ten commandments and you'll go to Heaven and meet God after you die. Well, they didn't directly say not to masturbate, it was Bible school so they did phrase it kinder. But they basically said that, just indirectly. Everybody knew what they were saying, so why didn't they just come right out and say it? Besides, it's not like any boy followed that once they hit puberty. I mean, they were teenage boys! You can't take masturbation away from teenage boys.

Italy suddenly redirected his train of thought. He had suddenly gotten very off track. Vatican City continued. "God is always with us, Feliciano. He watches us. He doesn't mind if you've found-a love, even if it's a man. He's happy for you. Feliciano, God-a loves every one of us. The sinners, the saints, and everybody in between."

Italy looked up at Vatican City's eyes. They were a lovely mix of dark chocolate brown and forest green. "Everyone…" Italy thought about this. He had heard this phrase so many times, that both Jesus and God love everybody. Although he had also heard that gays will burn in Hell right next to Hitler, so he wasn't exactly positive what his church was trying to tell him. "But…what about people like Germany?"

"He is a person, no? God loves-audwig, too." Vatican City had a special relationship with the especially hurt and damaged countries, like Germany, Poland or Japan who coped poorly with the problems of their past.

"But…he committed the world's largest genocide and killed people because of their religion. I mean, can God love a man who killed-a his followers?" Italy loved Germany, truly. But he just wasn't really buying the whole God loving everybody thing. "I mean…I can understand maybe if he likes him. Or at least tolerates him. But not-a love him."

"No, God-a loves everybody." That was the most comforting phrase Italy had ever heard. He had it pounded into his head as a child, but he never really stopped to think about it, to think about what it mean.

Italy hugged his older brother tightly. "I love you, fratello. I love you so much." Still hugging his petite brother, he spoke quietly. "What about people like Hitler or Mussolini?"

"They weren't really people." Vatican smiled slightly, holding his brother tightly.