A/N: Well, I'm not sure if any of you are aware, but I've got classes now so I won't be able to update as soon as I want to... But here you go :) ENJOY!

"Please wake up, Italy. I'm right here. I'm waiting for you, just as you waited for me all these years… So please, I'm begging you. Come back."

~O~

Germany distinctly remembered pleading to the universe to bring back Italy's heartbeat on their plane ride back to Venice, and it was truly remarkable that it was then returned. He was no superstitious person, but perhaps people knew what they were talking about when they said that love was the 'most powerful thing' in the world – or at least, France seemed to know what he was talking about.

And as the blond continued to watch the Italian, he couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to lay beside the sleeping brunet. So, kicking off his boots, he lay down on his rightful place, right beside Italy, and just gazed at his serenely sleeping face.

"Feliciano," he whispered, hoping that he could hear, "I love you, Feliciano. I don't think there's any other way I can explain how I feel about you. And no matter how many times I've denied it to myself-" he bit his lower lip here, "-I still hope you felt just how much I tried." And he was about to turn away when a small sound caught his attention.

"Mmm."

Hearing that, Germany's eyes widened, "I-Italy?"

"Mm… My… My name," the auburn-haired man muttered, eyes still very much closed, "Say… say my name…"

"Feliciano," and slowly, the blond pushed himself up to plant a small kiss upon Italy's forehead, "Feliciano," He said again, kissing his cheeks lightly, "Feliciano." And Germany nuzzled his nose, keeping a close proximity and making sure he wasn't going to crush the smaller man, "… How about saying mine?"

Italy released a small moan, then a giggle, before he said, "Ludwig," he whispered affectionately, "You are Ludwig Beilshmidt, right Germany?"

And at that moment, Germany released the most hearty laugh he's ever had in years, "Good God!" he exclaimed, pulling the Italian into his arms, and very close to his heart, "You're alive, Italy! You're alive!"

"Correction," And Italy pulled away, gently placing one hand upon Germany's cheek and another behind his head, "We're alive."

X.o.X

"That bastard,"

"Roma, calm down."

It had been two days since Italy had gone home, and still, both he and Germany had not left the room. The previous day, Germany had told him that Italy still hadn't stirred, and that perhaps he would wake today. However, even though Romano was well and lively, it seems that Italy still needed a bit of push to return.

"Dammit, what's taking him so long?!"

Spain sighed as he watched Romano walk to and fro in anxiety, brows furrowed and all. France chose this moment to enter the room, getting returning his phone to his pocket, "I just got off the phone from America – he's staying with England for the moment, but he wants me there so he can pick up a couple of things from home for his stay to come back and tend to England while we wait for Philippines to get there,"

"Can't she just cure him from way over in her country?" Romano demanded, "I mean, she did that with me and Spain, didn't she?"

"Yes," replied France, sitting on the chair adjacent to the sofa Spain was sitting on, "But she and Spain had the familial bond that can stand the test of distance. She doesn't owe that kind of affection to England."

The three of them remained quiet for a moment, before France decided to break the silence by saying, "So… You and Spain, huh?"

Romano suddenly coughed on nothing but his saliva, but Spain chose to handle the situation coolly, "Si," he replied, "You, mi hermano, should have seen the evidence to that, of all people."

France laughed, "I almost thought I instigated it,"

With that, the young Italian scowled, "Don't think of it as some sort of short-term thing, okay?!" he warned, "Antonio and I are very serious about this!"

"So am I!" France said, his air of concern returning. His eyes twinkled with the obvious light of mischief but it was diluted by a strong sense of happiness, "All my little brothers are coming together and falling in love, why, I can't think of anything that will make me any less happy than that."

The auburn haired man found his way back into the seat right next to Spain, who opened up an arm for him to lean into. He wrapped an arm around Spain, who kissed the top of his head tenderly, before turning to France, "He doesn't usually act like it, but Roma is always very concerned about other people. It is why he convinced me to go after you all in that mansion."

If Romano wanted to say something against it, only Spain's shirt pocket heard his retort.

"Ah, of course," France stood up, "Some people really don't change, I suppose. But little Roma certainly has, after all these centuries," He bowed and bid the lovers goodbye, "I must be on my way. Canada might get to England's house first – and I don't ever enjoy making him wait," he paused for effect and winked at Spain, "That is, if you know what I mean. Au revoir,"

And once his footsteps had died out, Romano's head peeked out from Spain's arms, "Antonio?"

Spain raised an eyebrow, knowing that what would follow would be quite an intimate conversation, seeing as their names were involved, "Si, Lovino?"

"Wh-why-" the young Italian attempted to gather his thoughts, flushing lightly, "Why would you say something like that? Back at the mansion, I mean," a smile began to play upon Spain's lips here, "None of them knew about us – and you just gave it out."

"I was afraid to die," Spain said simply, lacing his fingers in between Romano's with the hand the young Italian had used to embrace him, "And, well… I thought that I'd be better of dying with everyone knowing that I love you than any other way."

"You idiot," muttered Romano, pouting and growing red, "I'd probably die if you die."

Spain ruffled his hair affectionately, "Ah, Lovi," he whispered, leaning down to give him a small, chaste kiss, "This is one of the reasons why I love you so much."

And at that precise moment, they heard a loud thud from the upper floor.

Spain and Romano exchanged nervous glances before getting up and running towards Germany's room. They burst through the door, worry painting and very much evident in their faces:

"Germany! Felicia-"

But the two stopped when they found Italy laying on top of Germany, both men on the floor, and both laughing at something rather incredulously.

"… Feliciano?"

Romano couldn't believe his eyes, but once his brother heard his name, Italy sat up, "Eh? Fratello? What are you doing here?"

To this question, Germany replied from beneath him, "He's been waiting frantically for you to wake up too, Italy," he glanced at Romano, who seemed to be fuming, "You should be happy he is here."

"I am! I am very happy, ve~" Italy bounded up from Germany, who flushed under the glare of the older Italian, "I'm so-"

"SERIOUSLY?!" Romano had so many feelings but he had summarized it in that word, just as his brother was about to wrap his arms around him – making the younger Italian back away in fright. Romano didn't mean it – he was happy Feliciano was alive. At the same time shocked to find him and Germany so intimate together. And naturally, he was annoyed that it took so long for him to wake up. Then, he was also relieved that Italy even woke up to begin with. But he was frustrated and downright appalled that he and the blond would be doing… things, and things like that even, despite the recent events, "That's all you have to say for yourself?!"

"Now, now, Lovi-" Spain attempted to calm down his half of the Italian brothers.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!" Romano's voice rose extremely fast, "I was so fucking worried about you – so close to actually murdering myself in my own self-loathing because I wasn't able to save you and I find you here, giggling like some teenaged-girl, in the arms of that potato-bastard, no less?!"

At this point, Italy had backed so away from his screaming brother that his back touched Germany's muscular chest, "Now, Romano-" Germany started, but Romano sent daggers at him, if looks could kill.

"As for you!" Romano attempted to point a threatening finger at him, Spain pulling his arms down the moment they shot up, "You're the reason Feliciano fell into a situation like this the first place! You just had to tell him you'd come back for him as a child, and made sure he waited centuries, centuries you asshole, before you remembered everything you did?! What kind of sick bastard are you?!" he tried to hold back tears, "I saw you! France was the one who gave you to Prussia! He was the first to find you and never knew who you are and you revised your name to Germany when you forgot absolutely everything! And I could feel every pain, bitter heartache and twisted vein that my brother felt…"

Germany was a loss at words: he never pegged Romano as the sensitive type. Well, then again, he and Feliciano were twins – they must have things in common.

"Romano," the blond German began nervously, "I know that I've made several mistakes – from leaving Italy as Holy Rome, down to the moments when I nearly lost him just recently. However," he wrapped his arms around the Italian in front of him, "I do love Feliciano very much, and I'm willing to make up for every single second he'd waited for me. Because regardless of what name I'd chosen to take, he was still the only one in my heart."

Hearing that statement, Feliciano sighed a soft, "Ve~" And turned to embrace the taller man, "Ludwig."

"Good." Romano had wiped his eyes dry and reached out for Spain's hand for comfort, which the Spaniard gave willingly, with a knowing chuckle to add, "But just so you know, I'll be watching very closely." He turned to his lover and jerked his head, before the emerald-eyed Spaniard's eyes widened.

"Oh, right," he smiled as he kissed the back of Lovino's hand tenderly, "Lovi and I have something to tell you two – but you kind of have to promise not to tell anyone just yet."

Germany and Italy exchanged nervous glances.

Lovino blushed furiously as he dove into Spain's arms, right before the he said, "Lovino and I would like to get married."

X.o.X

France had run through the front door, disregarded his suitcase at the doorstep, galloped up the steps and sprinted through the hallway to get to the room that England held himself in. Bursting through the door, he found the Brit quite alone, sitting on his pillows, tears in his eyes – which he quickly wiped away, hearing the door open.

"Wh-who's there?" he asked, turning to the direction of the sound.

"So, it hasn't worked?" the Frenchman asked, "It really isn't going away until we use magic to take it?"

Realizing that it was France, England turned away, "I'm afraid so."

He knew that the Englishman wasn't looking, so France smiled an innocent one, playing upon worry and relief, as he approached and sat on England's bedside, "It's going to be fine, Arthur," he whispered gently, "We're going to make sure you'll be back in tip-top shape, mon ami." And he cupped his hands around the other's face, gently making England face him, "We're not going to give up on you just yet."

"A-are you serious?" demanded England, "You bloody git, you know I can't see you so I can't tell if-"

But France laughed heartily, surprising the Brit, "Do you actually think I would want to cause you any real harm?"

England remained silent, a faint blush appearing in his cheeks.

"I used to acknowledge you as my brother, my family," France began, lightly caressing the side of England's face, brushing away bristles of blond hair away from the bushy eyebrows that hid light, sea-green eyes, "And it's never changed since, Angleterre. You and I, as you say often, 'are like an old married couple'."

"Oh. Right."

The third voice appeared from the door, and an obviously-green-with-jealousy America stood by the doorway. He stared at the proximity of England and France before nodding and coughing, "I guess that means I chose well when I called you for help," he couldn't help the disappointment, despair and anguish in his voice, "I'll be going now, England. I think you're in safe hands."

And without even waiting for the Brit's response, he walked out.

"Was that Al-?"

"Shit." And before the Englishman could even demand about what's going on, France had run out to chase America, "America!"

He was at the door by the time France had caught up, and a familiar voice echoed in his ears once the oak doors opened, "Ah! Brother! You're still here?"

Canada came into perfect view as America moved aside to let him in. Canada had noticed the tears welling in his eyes, "Did something-?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can," and the American walked straight out of the door, not even bothering to look back.

The young Canadian – who, at the time, thought wisely to not bring his polar bear – ran straight up to France to ask what was wrong, the question evident in his face. France sighed and ruffled young Canada's hair, "He caught me being a little sentimental with England and thought that we were having a…" the statement died in his tongue.

"Hidden relationship?" Canada suggested cheekily.

France could only laugh, "Oui, mon ange," he replied, taking Canada's hands into his, "I do suppose that not telling anyone has quite a lot of disadvantages, Mathieu."

Canada sighed as France walked him up the stairs, "I suppose it is time for England to know," he started, "And I think he, of all people, would have seen it coming,"

"Well, he is in a similar situation, is he not?" asked the older man.

The younger man scowled, "Yeah, but with you talking to England so intimately, I think you just broke the chances of that, papa," he teased.

As a response, France gave Canada a small peck on the cheek before they both decided that America will know what he needs to know as soon as he got back from his country. He should also have known it before now, except that he so stupidly believed that France actually thought of England as a lover – in which case, of course, America has never been more wrong, since Canada had always been with France.

X.o.X

"I don't know if I said something to make you think this was okay-aru."

China had been invited by Japan to stay in his house while they wait for Italy's awakening. The young Asian had also invited Prussia – to whom he had a lot of questions about – but none of them knew that the tall, looming Russian would be tagging along.

"I think you want answers about what happened back there, don't you?" Russia asked, his usual terror-inducing smile playing upon his lips, making the shorter man quiver.

The two of them had stayed in a room while Japan had gone to make tea, asking for the German's assistance. China had downright refused to meet Russia's gaze, and the smile upon the taller man's face faltered.

"Do… do you hate me that much?"

Eyes widened, and when China turned to Russia, he found that it was indeed true – Russia had grimaced and showed a slight sign of true emotion, "Wh-what?"

"You, Yao," began the Russian, amethyst eyes gaining a thin sheen of liquid, "Do you hate me?" China turned away in an attempt to avoid the answer, "I know that I constantly want to get you back – to make you become one with me, and I say that to some of the other nations as well, in an attempt to make me visible to them, but you… You most of all. I meant that for you most of all."

China felt a rush of blood rise to his cheeks, "What are you talking about-aru?"

"…Don't you already know?"

With that statement, China swiftly turned back to him and cried out in a loud voice, "Of course I do!" and his eyes filled, just as he attempted to drop his escalating voice, "How do you think I feel?" he demanded, "Don't you know how torn I am when it comes to you?!... Aru. I can't exactly help how I feel about you after the tension you have with my country!"

"But… How about me, as an individual?" Amethyst eyes met amber and China turned away again. But this time, Russia walked towards him and lifted his chin to meet his gaze, "Answer me, please?"

"As the People's Republic of China, of course I can't help but doubt you always," began the smaller man, "But, Ivan… I, as Yao… I've always loved you."

The taller man seemed so pleased with the answer that he bent down to give the Chinese man a soft, chaste kiss, "I'm glad to hear that," he whispered, before giving him another one, only deeper and more passionate – even earning a soft moan from the smaller man.

Japan and Prussia, upon entering the room at that exact moment, nearly dropped the tea and sweets they carried respectively.

A/N: If you want to see Spain and Lovino's wedding, please do tell ;) I still have to formulate that because I'm pretty sure Feliciano will force him into a dress, don't you? Thank you very much for reading! *bows*

Philippines: Yes! Thank you~ I don't get to be in stories often, so this is one opportunity for me to tell you who I am! *grins*

Uh... Yes, yes it is, dear.