33. The Talk

Date Written: March 3, 2019

Date Posted: October 26 2019

Characters: Veneziano, Romano

Summary: Romano and Germany have a small talk.

Notes: Part Two of a three part series.

When Germany had been called over to assist his neighbor and fellow Germanic Nation, Austria, he had thought that he probably needed help with his house or something. He truly didn't think that the bespectacled Nation would ask him to help with poor little Italy. Of course, Germany had a grasp on history, as was dictated by Prussia. He knew that Italy (at least parts of the Northern half) used to be under Austrian rule.

He just didn't think that they would continue their relationship to this day.

Of course, during international meetings, they were several degrees above cordial, but he had attributed to that of a healthy business relationship.

Regardless, the blond Nation had agreed. After all, he and Italy were good friends.

What Germany didn't account for was Italy's older brother, Italia Romano.

It probably shouldn't be as jarring as it should, but to see the older brother willingly accompany Ita—Veneziano to Austria's house...Germany wasn't sure how to explain it, but it was certainly surprising to see Romano push a container and what looked like wine back into his car's trunk.

After Veneziano subtly manipulated him into changing one of the tires ("Don't you know how to change a tire?" "But I don't want to get my hands dirty!"), Germany was set out to lead them all back to Austria's house. Now, here's how he thought the arrangement would work. Either Germany would drive and Veneziano would just so happen to be the passenger, or he would drive with Austria as a passenger. Those were the only options he had put any consideration into.

The world tilted a degree of a fraction on its axis when he heard the news.

"Ah, Signor Austria and I have to talk about the upkeep of violins! Go have fun with Romano!"

And with that, Veneziano shoved his brother in Germany's direction before dragging Austria into his car.

Suffering a bit from the backlash, Germany looked from the ready starting car and back to a furious Italian. Although their relationship had somewhat warmed over the course of the century, Romano still didn't hold him in the highest esteem. Germany wasn't all too bothered by this. However, he couldn't deny that he would rather have Romano view him as an… acquaintance, but really, it was the Italian's choice.

Germany didn't want to fight.

"You getting in or what? You want me to drive?" Romano asked sardonically, but made for the passenger's side.

Emboldened by the lack of biting criticism, Germany moved toward the driver's side. He started the ignition and as he was about to pull the car out of park, he heard the southern Italian mutter under his breath. That was normal. While those who weren't used to Romano's temperament would have balked at such rudeness, the blond just took it in stride.

A part of him liked to think of himself as a master of understanding his Mediterranean neighbors to the south. Was it foolish if he thought himself as such? Perhaps, but he was far from inexperienced.

So, as past experiences have taught him, he merely began pulling out of the side of the road. If the blond listened closely, he could hear the tail end of a muttered cursed and few choice words directed at him.

"You know—" Germany began conversationally. "—I think it's better for the person that you're insulting that you either don't say anything or don't speak loud enough. It might seem like you're talking to yourself and I don't think you would want to be thought of as crazy."

"Ah, really?" Germany's eyes were trained on the road, but he could practically hear Romano's eyes roll. "The only crazy one here is you! I didn't say anything!"

"Now that's just childish." He let his eyes move from the road and onto the Italian's face for a second. Unsurprisingly, there was a scowl. "You definitely said quite a few things."

Germany heard a rustle of something. Maybe it was Romano covering his ears or shifting his legs.

"Hmm...and what kind of evidence do you have to back up your claim? Seems like you're just accusing me."

Such childishness should not have a place amongst beings who were centuries old. It irked him sometimes. That the descendants of Rome were two blithering idiots who couldn't do anything right just didn't sit well with the Germany. Veneziano was too kind hearted, loving, and artistic. Romano was grounded, lazy, and outspoken. Combined, they were one Nation that had been (unwittingly) the area of much contention for the past millennium or so.

"I speak only the truth, Romano. You said something and I'm merely asking for you to speak up."

"Hmph. And I take it that you use that same tone and voice with my brother, don't you?"

The blond chanced a look. This time, there was a nasty sneer that lined the southern Italian's features.

"What does that mean? Of course I do."

"You favor him over me."

It wasn't the words that had an impact on him.

It was the way that he said it that had Germany take pause.

As a person, a human if you will, he was quite inexperienced when it came to understanding and correctly adapting to the fickleness of emotions. For quite some time, he had been envious of Veneziano's ability to navigate the sociopolitical arena. He may not have been the best at warfare, but knowing when to push and pull back emotionally, manipulating his fellow Nations, or convincing Germany to take him on a ride was simply amazing. If it were not for his innate desire to learn and his long lifespan, Germany would have surely died without knowing the inner intricacies of a human heart...well a bit better than what he knew decades ago. He still needed to learn, as what the northern Italian had said.

Right now, Germany thanked his lucky stars that his bubbly little friend had never given up on their friendship.

If he were to correctly identify Romano's mood...hmm...What were the components of effective communication? A fraction was voice, but the rest was all up to body language. Part observation. Now that he had gathered up all the variables, he just needed to add in context, and his relationship between him and his brother, which would equal—

"You're jealous."

There was only the sound of the purring engine and the grating sound of pop music mixed with rap. And then—

"You just figured that out now?" Although the blond kept his eyes trained on the windshield, he could actually feel Romano's eyes bore down into his soul. "And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one! Tell me, when Prussia found you, did he drop you on your head as a child?"

He pondered. "Quite a few times, actually. He liked throwing me in the air and then catching me."

"You're—That's just—" A shriek of disgusted fury. "If it wasn't for the fact that I didn't dislike you so much, I would offer to punch him for you. He shouldn't have been so careless as to do that to a small child."

"And why don't you like me that much?"

"Correction: I don't like you at all."

Germany winced. He set himself up for that one.

"You're jealous. Of who? Me or your brother?" Germany continued before the Italian began his telltale tirade. "Before you refute my question, I'll have you know that admitted to your being jealous only a few minutes ago."

A beat. "Does it really matter if I'm jealous or not? You probably won't remember any of this.

"Of course it matters. In order to fully understand a given problem or obstacle, one must avail himself the appropriate sources to come to a satisfactory conclusion."

"You bastard! You think I'm just a problem or a math equation you can just solve! I'll have you know—"

It wasn't like Germany to interrupt another person while they were speaking, but the blond felt that it was appropriate to do so now. "One, you're jealous of your brother. Of what, I'm not sure. Two, you don't think that your opinion matters, but if you think it does, you don't think others would value your thoughts. Three, you lash out because while I'm not exactly correct, I am getting closer to the truth."

Another beat. And then—

"What are you? That tool, Freud? If you start bringing up any abnormal sexual fantasies, I will jump out of this car."

Germany sighed. At least he had gotten through Romano if the latter was digging around for verbal ammunition.

"He was Austrian, not German." He gave Romano a side glance. "Regardless of origin, some of his ideas, although unfounded, have some credit to them."

"Which means?"

"I think you need therapy—"

"Hell no, you potato!"

"—if you don't find someone to express your grievances, doubts, and fears. Ideally, I think that speaking with your brother would not only allay your fears, but also serve to mend your relationship."

"Do you have your planner?"

Germany frowned at the sudden question, but let it pass. He was trying to get on Romano's good side after all. "In my coat. Why?"

"Because I'm going to write down fuck off into hell on Thursday."

"Pity, it's booked for the day with a few choice politicians."

"Then invite them over to hell. Tell them the mode of transportation would by by fucking themselves."

"Tempting, but I fear they are a tad bit too conservative for a change in schedule."

Romano, for once throughout the drive, let out a peal of light laughter. Even though he had never spent an exorbitant amount of time with the southern Italian, he quickly surmised that the sound was genuine. Germany could even hear the sound of gasping breath and wheezing. It was a laugh that perfectly encompassed the Italian's very being: deep and rich with promising warmth.

Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised him to hear such joyous music. Veneziano's laugh was bright and airy whenever he wasn't being intentionally annoying.

"Good job." Another bout of laughter. "You almost made me like you."

Germany surreptitiously smiled.

Yes, it wasn't nice, but the Italian wasn't as biting as he was before.

"So will you—?"

Another bark of laughter. This time, it was a grating sound like two pieces of rock were forced to rub up against each other, grating.

"Hell no...not tonight." When Germany pulled in front of a traffic light—how much time had actually passed?—he happened to see Romano look crestfallen and unsure. "Just… Oi! Don't look so smug, you bastard!"

This time, it was the blond's turn to laugh uproariously.

Well, as uproariously as Germany could make it seem.