Romano tripped backwards up the stairs, away from his blood soaked brother.

"Ve~ What's the matter fratello? You don't look so good." He came closer, twiddling with the knife he held behind his back. The elder stumbled backwards up the stairs, before turning and running haphazardly through the door. Italy tsked and gave chase, following closely behind. Italy stopped in the middle of their living room. Taking aim, he sent his knife flying. Just as Romano reached the front door, something hit his back with a dull thud. He reached behind him and felt the handle of a knife jutting out. His vision blurred as he slid to the floor. One question echoed through his mind as the darkness overcame him: Why?

Italy walked calmly towards the dead half-nation. Fratello idiota. You were supposed to be with Spagna. Why were you home? He pulled the knife from his brother's back and wiped it clean on his shirt. He's going to feel that when he wakes up. I must have punctured a lung. He grunted as he dragged the body down to the basement. Why are you so fucking heavy? He leaned the his dead sibling against the wall .

"You've been eating too many of Spagna's churros, fratello. You're getting fat." He chuckled dryly and pushed aside several boxes that were stacked against the wall, revealing a sturdy iron door. The door led to a small concrete room furnished with a single cot. He laid Romano on the bed and handcuffed his wrists to either post of the headboard. He looked over his older brother, sighing, when the ring of a phone came from upstairs. He glanced him over once more.

"Sogni dolci, fratello~"

He made his way to the phone, locking the door behind him. Picking it up on the fourth ring, he answered in his happy facade. "Ciao~!"

"Hallo, Italy."

"Ve~! Doitsu~! How are you doing~?"

"I am gut, danke. Japan is making dinner at my house and vanted to know if you vould like to come."

"Si~! I'd love to~!"

"I vill see you soon then. Auf wiedersehen."

"Ciao, Doitsu~!" He hung up, his false smile slipping away as he went upstairs to change once more out of his blood stained clothes.

Within the hour Italy was skipping through the german's door and sneaking through his house to find him in the dining room, setting the table. He tiptoed behind him and wrapped his arms around Germany's firm waist, snuggling against his back. He felt the other stiffen, then relax.

"Hallo, Italy." He removed the slighter nation's arms and turned around. There was warmth in those ice-blue eyes as he looked almost lovingly at the other. The Italian wrapped his arms around the taller nation's neck. Lifting himself almost off the ground, he kissed each cheek. They became dusted with a light shade of pink as he smiled up at the blond.

"Konnichi wa, Itary-san." Japan entered from the kitchen, hoisting several platters of food onto the table.

"Japan~! Ve~ That smells yummy! I'm so hungry~!" Italy clamored, everyone taking a seat. He watched his dining companions as they all ate. Several times throughout the meal he caught Germany glancing his way, only to have the stern country look away with progressively warmer cheeks. "Doitsu~, your face is all red. Are you getting sick?" He asked in a worried tone.

"N-no, I am fine," He looked down flustered at his plate.

"Okay~..." He continued eating. Really. It's almost too easy messing with him anymore. The rest of dinner passed by with little conversation. Italy's constant chatter broken only by the occasional odd comment from Japan.

"Danke for the food, Japan. It was delicious."

"Okagesamade, Germany-san," He bowed slightly, taking his leave. "Sayonara."

The door clicked shut and Germany went to find the sleeping Italian on his couch. Sighing softly, he took him upstairs to the guest room.

"I don't know how you a able to sleep so much." He chided, laying the sleeping figure on the be. He watched him for a minute. The gentle rise and fall of his chest and the ever-present smile on his face. As he turned to walk away, a small hand grasp his own. Looking back, he saw that Italy had reached out in his sleep to take his hand. Sighing again, with the smallest smile, Germany lifted the covers and laid himself on the bed beside the Italian. He allowed the other to snuggle against him as he joined him in his slumber.

Half an hour later, Italy cracked open one eye. He noted the other's deep, calms breathes and decided that he was fully asleep. Sitting up carefully, Italy exited the bed without shifting the covers and tiptoed his way through the house and out the front door, twisting the knob as he shut it so as to avoid a clicking that would sure awaken his light-sleeping acquaintance. I wonder how my fratello idiota is doing? He thought, boarding the train back home.

"Roma~! I'm home~!" He called out as he opened the door to his house and leisurely walked to where Romano was hidden. He unlocked the door and stepped inside before locking it again behind him. His brother glared up at him from the small cot. Romano tried to keep the fear from his eyes, but behind his bravado it still flickered, strong as before. "You're not mad at me, are you?" Italy asked with mock innocence.

"What do you think, bastardo?" he spat.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's your own fault. You didn't have to come home when you did. really, this whole scenario can be blamed on your poor timing." Italy chided mockingly as he came to stand beside the bed. Romano unconsciously moved his body away from the other, mentally kicking himself when he caught the action.

"It's your damn fault! Why on Earth were you... Why did you kill that man?"

"Because it's fun!" He said happily.

"...f-fun...?" Romano was taken aback. They were countries, they were used to the death that came with the inevitable wars between them, but to think it was fun... that was... that was sadistic... inhuman... that was just... wrong. Italy giggled at his brother's reaction, snapping him quickly back to reality.

"How could you think that... that...is fun?"

"Because it is. Seeing all the different faces and sounds. At first some of the will try and act all tough, but in the end everyone everyone cries and begs for their life. Although... some of the weaker ones actually beg for their death. They don't fight at all, and it's very boring. When that happens, the only thing you can do is kill them slowly so you can watch what little life they have left slip from their eyes. Oh! The very very best part is the feel of the knife in your hand and the slight resistance of the skin as you slice through veins and bring the beautiful red blood to the surface. I find it the perfect paint for drawing pretty pictures. You should try it, fratello! I think you would really like it!" He cried happily. Romano just stared at him in shock, his eyes wide in shock. Italy pulled out a knife from his pocket and placed it in his brothers hand, holding his arm just within reach. "Try it~!"

He gripped the knife limply in his hand, just staring. After a moment, he tightened his grip and pushed the knife down with as much force as he was able in his restrained position. The blade sunk deep into his brother's arm, but Italy didn't even blink. In fact, his smile grew wider.

"See~? Isn't that fun~? Try some more!"

Romano's eye's widened further and his grip went slack, the fear in his eyes shining brighter than ever. Italy held his arm out for a minute more, waiting for him to pick up the knife again. When nothing happened, he pulled his arm back and calmly removed the knife and wiping it on his brother's shirt. Romano winced away from the blade as it came near his skin.

"I'm sorry, fratello. Your shirt is already dirty, and I've wasted so many of mine, I'd rather not ruin another one." He explained, replacing the knife in his pocket. He smiled back down at his brother. "Well, it's getting late, and I'm really tired." He yawned, as if to prove his point. Walking to the door, he unlocked it.

"W-wait! You can just leave me here!"

"Of course I can. I don't want you running free and telling everyone my little secret. Bouna notte, fratello~!" He stepped out the door, closing it to the string of curses and locking it again. Looking down at his arm, he saw that it was already mostly healed. Fratello idiota, that almost hurt. Rubbing his injured arm, he climbed into bed. "Maybe tomorrow we'll be able to have more fun..."