Hey there~ I'd like to thank all of you for your remarkable support! I'd especially like to thank TheAwesomeMe128, Sweetblood1918, PileOfStinkyPoo, and Mapple Syrup for your lovely reviews, and particularly the latter two for pointing out some Spanish translation errors. If anyone happens to notice any errors in translating, grammar, historical accuracy, or anything else, please let me know so I can fix it! :)

Also, thank you ClearAsCrystal269 for your input on this chapter~ Picking Netherlands was a good choice ;)

By the way, Romano and Italy's birthday is on March 17th; they were unified on the 13th, but became the Kingdom of Italy on the 17th in 1861, hence their birthday. From what I understand, then that means their centennial should've been in 1961. If I'm wrong, let me know a.s.a.p.

Otherwise, this chapter takes place in 1961.

Another World War passed and Romano was ready for things to wind down and for everyone to get their shit together. Despite that it's been nearly two decades since that potato-breath Germany let Hitler fuck things up (so what if that dickwad Mussolini didn't help things either…), some of the countries were still testy and their people were still struggling a bit. Romano knew that he and little brother were doing more or less alright, yet figured that something needed to be done to pull everyone from their funk.

Apparently, Feliciano had the same idea as well because on their centennial in 1961, he poked his head into Lovino's room and cheerfully announced, "Fratello~! Wake up, sleepy-head, or you'll be late for our party!"

"The hell?" Romano mumbled sleepily as he was pulled from his slumber. "What're you babbling about? What's going on?" He glanced at his clock and noted the time. 10:32 am. Oh, hell no. "The shit is this? It's too damn early you jerk." And with that, he attempted to pull the covers back over his head, only for Veneziano to grab them and yank them back.

"Ve~ but Lovi, if you don't get up now, you might sleep through our whole birthday! We can't have that; it's going to be a special day today! I'd hate for you to miss our party! That wouldn't be fun at all! I'd be sad if you missed out on the fun!" His smile drooped then sprang back up again. "Oh Romano, can you believe that we're 100?! We're so old! It feels like just yesterday that-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA, back up a bit…did you say something about a party?"

"Sì, I did! Our party is going to start in a couple of hours! Oh, I can't wait! We're going to have pasta and cake and ice cream and a band and streamers and pasta and-"

"Dammit, slow down, will you," Romano snapped, suddenly wide awake. "Who said anything about us having a party?!"

"Well, I asked you if it was okay last week and you said it was fine. Remember?"

"What the-! When the hell did I say that?!"

"Last week~ I asked you when you were on the phone with Big Brother Spain. You were yelling at him for some reason and I asked you and you told me to go away but I really wanted to know so I kept asking and then you yelled that you didn't care what I did and you went back to yelling at Toni. I took that as a yes so I started making plans! Oh fratello, today is going to be so much fun! I'm so glad you said yes!" Italy brightly grinned and clasped his hands together, and Romano blinked at him in disbelief.

Then it hit him.

Oh shit, now he remembered.

The tomato bastard had called and subjected Romano to endless, mindless chatter that he had wanted no part of yet had been forced to listen to. Sure, he could've hung up whenever he wanted, but he had nothing better to do than to listen to the jerk prattle on about whatever came to mind. At some point, Antonio mentioned that he saw a cute, growling little Chihuahua dog that reminded him of 'his Roma' and Lovino had gotten offended ("did you just compare me to a dog, dammit?!"). It didn't help when Veneziano had started tugging on his sleeve and asking about some shit or another, and Romano had waved him off, too pissed off at Spain to really care.

Looks like he needed to pay better attention…

Seeing his brother's expression of horrified realization and immediately misinterpreting it, Italy happily clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Yay~! Let's get this party started!"

{~/~/~}

Somebody needed to shoot him right now.

Romano glared at the scene before him: there were numerous nations partying it up in the back yard, alternating between dancing to the Italian band Feliciano hired or jumping in the pool or socializing with one another. Though it was a rather joyous, fun-filled setting, Romano couldn't help but feel annoyed. After all, in his opinion, most of these nations were assholes (he glowered pointedly at Germany, Prussia, America, France, England, etc.), and he'd rather gouge his own eye out than hang out with them; hell, the only reason they were even here was because Italy wanted to invite everyone so they could 'all be friends' ("the more the merrier, ve~!")

The more the merrier, my ass…

All afternoon, he had been answering the door, usually greeting the guests with "who the hell invited you, bastard?!", and had gotten annoyed with the turnout. He even almost flipped shit when that macho potato had the gall to actually show up, but was restrained when Italy unexpectedly flew by and tackled the stupid jerk to the ground and actually hugged him (he should've just kicked both their asses out, Feli's feelings be damned).

After a while, Veneziano had relieved him of 'guest greeting' duty and had asked him to make sure the band set up properly and that the food was all set out for their visitors. Romano didn't bother and instead made sure to lock the doors of any rooms that he didn't want people to wander into, especially his room; moreover, he ordered the guards to protect his tomato garden because he'll be damned if some asswipe set their unworthy paws onto a single red fruit that he worked damn hard to grow. Additionally, he made sure to keep his small chunk of silver in his pocket with him at all times, just in case.

By now, all the guests had arrived, some even bringing birthday presents for him and Feliciano. Romano made a quick mental head-count and grimaced: America was currently stuffing his face at the buffet table while bothering Britain, Canada was dipping his feet in the pool, Hungary was trying to coax Austria to get in the pool with her, Switzerland was maintaining an impassive expression as Liechtenstein cheerfully swung his arms around, trying to get him to dance, Sealand was boasting about how he could do a 'wicked cool' cannonball to a shaky Latvia who was standing at attention next to Lithuania and Estonia, Russia was blissfully monitoring his Baltic states (that bastard had actually invited himself, much to the Vargas brothers' fearful chagrin) while drinking some vodka, China was feeding his beloved panda some pasta, Netherlands was off smoking somewhere, Belgium and Poland were dancing to the music, Denmark was in the pool splashing Norway who looked subtly pissed, Finland was trying to coax 'Su-san' to dance, Greece was sleeping under a tree, Turkey was chatting it up with Ukraine as the two sat at the edge of the pool, Australia was swimming some laps, Belarus was nowhere to be seen (Romano sent the guards to investigate the perimeter a.s.a.p.), Italy was playing Marco Polo, completely unaware that Japan was sitting outside of the pool, having refused to take off his clothes, and that Germany was currently being dunked into the water by a cackling Prussia, and France was sneaking up behind Austria with a rather perverted look on his face.

Seriously, who the hell invites these people?! They're all a bunch of jerks!

"Hola birthday boy~" Lo and behold, here comes the biggest jerk of them all.

Romano turned to see Spain happily bounding over to him with the largest grin on his face, and tomato fairies suddenly erupted within his belly. Once he approached the Italian, he asked, "What are you doing just standing here? It's time to have some fun on your special day! Why don't you dance or come and jump in the pool with me?!"

Lovino blinked once and answered, "Fuck off, bastardo."

As expected, Antonio laughed and wasn't the least bit deterred. "Aw~ even on your birthday you're so grumpy! It's so cute~" Then he reached over and quickly pinched the other's cheek before his hand could be slapped away (or broken off…).

Romano fiercely blushed and snapped, "I said fuck off, dammit! And I'm NOT cute! Nothing I do is cute! How many times do I have to tell you that?!"

Spain lightly chuckled and quipped, "As many times as it takes for you to realize it as the truth." South Italy gave him a blank stare that clearly read 'I'm not amused, dumb ass'. "Anyways, you really should go out and mingle, have some pasta, dance, jump in the pool…have some fun! It's your centennial! It's time to party and celebrate!"

"Right," Lovino responded sarcastically with a snort. "Let me just grab my trunks and jump in the stupid pool, and while I'm at it, I should totally start dancing the Tarantella to this shitty band's shitty music."

"Oh, that sounds like fun! Do that!" Romano deadpanned at Spain's ecstatic expression and tried very hard not to notice how his green eyes sparkled in that remarkable way they do whenever he was especially happy. "You deserve to have a good time, Lovi~ After all, Feli is so you should too!" They both looked over at Italy who was still playing Marco Polo, oblivious that Japan wasn't actually in the water, despite calling out 'Polo' every now and then, and that a soaking wet Germany was currently smacking Prussia. "In fact, you should join your brother and play that fun game with him! I think I might join!"

Romano raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "There's no way in hell that I'm going to play that stupid game with my stupid brother, especially if you're going to play! Now just go away and leave me alone!"

Spain pouted good-naturedly. "So mean to Boss~ Very well, it's your birthday! You do what makes you happy!" Then he unexpectedly began to take off his shirt and promptly discarded the cloth to the side, revealing a set of tan, obviously strong-looking, powerful abs and pecs. South Italy instantly stiffened, and his face turned red as his hazel orbs took in the inviting, gorgeous (uh…horribly disgusting) figure before him. Oh merda…

Antonio didn't seem to notice his ogling (err…look of utter horror) as he stretched out his rippling muscles and beamed down at him. "Alright Lovi, if you need me, I'll be in the pool playing with Feli! Hopefully you'll join us later! You need to learn to have fun~" And with that, the Spaniard took off and did a 'cannonball' into the water, soaking a couple of nations.

Lovino looked between the abandoned shirt and then to its ditzy owner and rolled his eyes, willing his face to cool down. That…that infuriating…jerk! That pervert was probably hoping I'd check him out or something…which I most certainly wasn't! Releasing a breath of frustration, Romano watched Spain join in his oh-so adorable brother's silly little game and felt a flare of anger sting him. Learn to have fun…what a bastard. He and my fratello can keep their so-called 'fun'. And with that rather malignant, venomous thought, Romano spun around and stalked into his house.

The Italian entered his kitchen and moodily slumped his elbows on top of the counter so that he could rest his head in his hands. He noticed a small bowl of tomatoes and immediately snatched one up and bit into it. Currently, he was alone in the room and he was grateful for it, restless by the need to get away from all those other nations. He never was truly fond of large crowds or festivities in general; they made him uncomfortable.

Damn it, Veneziano…

Just as Lovino was contemplating whether or not to snag the bowl of tomatoes and just lock himself in his room, someone entered the kitchen and said, "Oh, hello there, Italy Romano." The Italian glanced up to see Netherlands standing in the doorway, appearing as stoic and impassive as he usually was. His bright green eyes assessed him as he held a long, thin pipe in between the fingers of his right hand.

Though Romano wasn't particularly fond of Netherlands (and no, it was most certainly not because he and Spain were enemies…), he had to admit that out of all the other nations, the pot-smoking bastard was one of the (very) few he could actually tolerate to some extent. "Hey jerk. Are you doped up yet?"

If Netherlands was offended by the jab, then he didn't show it. "Not particularly, no." As if to fix that, he took a long drag of his pipe and blew out a trail of smoke. "Congratulations on reaching your centennial, by the way. There were times when I wondered if you and your brother would make it or dissolve." He either didn't notice or ignored the glare of offense he was given. "I hope you like the gift Belgium and I got you two, it was her idea."

Romano rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'm not surprised she got us a gift; I'll have to thank her later." Then he glanced up Netherlands breathing out another puff of smoke. "What are doing in here anyways? Shouldn't you be outside smoking that shit?"

"Normally yes, but it came to my attention that your guests are running low on ice. I came in here to see if I can fetch some more."

A pair of scowling hazel orbs widened. "What?! My idiot brother and I filled that damned cooler to the brim! How the hell could we be running low already?!"

"From what I understand, America and Prussia picked up the cooler and dumped the ice all over Russia."

For a moment, Lovino was too stunned to say anything, let alone figure out how he felt about that. Eventually, he concluded that though the Russian bastard deserved it, he intended to have the hamburger bastard and albino bastard pay for anything that might be broken within these next few hours, including their own hospital bills and anything they might get their blood on (because it was just so damn hard to clean out). Violently cursing in his head, Romano growled out, "Dumb ass bastards just dug their own graves. They sure as hell deserve it though."

Netherlands nodded and replied, "Indeed they do. I've taken the liberty of informing your guards to keep an eye on Russia and to only intervene if the other countries get involved."

The Italian could help but snort out a laugh. "Good call. Let those assholes sort their shit out. As long as they don't start World War Three or something then I don't care who fucks up whom."

The Dutchman raised an eyebrow at his course language, yet inclined his head nonetheless. "So is there more ice?"

Lovino nodded and indicated to the freezer. "Yeah, in there." The two proceeded to grab a couple more bags of ice and make their way outside where, thankfully, nothing seemed destroyed for the time being. Romano had to hold his tomato by clenching it in his teeth while Netherlands actually stuck his pipe behind his ear like a pencil as they carried the heavy bags.

Once they dumped the ice into the cooler, Netherlands promptly resumed smoking while Romano bit down on his tomato and took hold of it. "Uh, thanks or whatever for helping, jerk," the Italian awkwardly muttered, not used to voicing his gratitude.

Netherlands merely nodded once. "Happy to help. It just annoys me that those two Neanderthals," he inclined his head over to America and Prussia who were laughing hysterically at one end of the pool while Russia, purple aura and all, was eerily smiling at them from the other side, "wasted perfectly good ice."

"What can you do?" Lovino remarked with a shrug. "Those idiots will always be dumb asses seeing that they share a brain and all."

The Italian was stunned to see the corner of Lars's mouth twitch in what was probably the closest thing to a smile for him. "I'll have to remember that one—it's very true. After all, that stunt of theirs was pretty fruitless if you think about it since Russia lives in snow; cold ice shouldn't really bother him."

Romano snickered and said, "No kidding. Besides, the vodka bastard is one cold-hearted son of a bitch so the ice couldn't have made a difference either way."

"Russia has a heart?" Netherlands wryly remarked.

That ultimately got Romano to bust out laughing, and he immediately covered his mouth when his chuckles came out rather loud and garnered the attention of some of the nearby nations. His face briefly turned red as he stifled his laughter. "Holy shit, you actually made a point. Never thought I'd see the day." What the hell was this?! Romano couldn't remember the last he teased someone playfully rather than hostilely. Maybe it was because he realized something: Netherlands wasn't as big as a bastard as the other nations are. Hell, he could even go as far to say that he and the pot jerk were actually getting along.

Netherlands wasn't even mildly affronted and accepted the jab. "Well, it's true." He then took that moment to take another drag from his pipe and blow out the smoke. "Don't take offense to this and don't tell Belgium, but I think I'll be leaving within the hour. I don't like being around Spain for too long and most of the other countries irritate me."

Romano waved him off nonchalantly and took another bite of his tomato. "I don't blame you. You can leave whenever you want, I don't really care."

"Thank you. I intend to at least socialize with Canada and Japan before I go though. Then I think I'll leave."

"Sure you don't wanna jump in the pool?" Romano quipped with a sarcastic smile. "You're not ugly so you can pull off swim trunks, and you seem the type that can smoke and do a backstroke at the same time."

Netherlands blinked and dryly remarked, "As pleasant as that sounds, I think I'll pass. I'm not one for swimming." Suddenly, the Dutchman's eyes narrowed in on the Italian's face. "Oh, you've got some tomato juice on your chin." Romano attempted to spot the juice, feeling it, yet was unable to see it. "Here, let me get it." Then Netherlands suddenly leaned in close and slowly swiped the pad of his thumb across his chin, getting the Italian to instinctively blush with both embarrassment and the proximity.

"U-um, hola Roma…Netherlands." The two glanced over to see that Spain had approached them and was standing nearby with his arms folded and his lips pursed into a tight line, appearing troubled. "What, uh, what are you two smiling and laughing about, huh?"

For some reason, Romano's heart skipped a beat on sight on him glistening wet and shirtless (who would've known tomatoes could give heart palpitations), but he quickly got over it and glared. "None of your business, bastard! What the hell does it even matter to you, anyways?!"

"Oh no reason, it just looks like you guys are having a lot of fun." Spain practically spat out that last word, much like how he did with Netherlands' name, yet still maintained a rather forced smile that strived to be cheerful but was obviously holding back a torrent of emotions that were anything but. "I just wanted to get in on it too."

Though Netherlands didn't show his annoyance over Spain's presence, his stature and aura radiated it clearly. "Must you stand so close to us? We're trying to have a conversation."

Romano was sure he imagined it when Spain bristled. "Oh really? Well, I hope you don't mind that I join in." And with that, Antonio stepped closer to Lovino, his powerful, distracting arms remaining folded. "So, uh, what were you guys talking about?"

Having no idea what has gotten into the former conquistador, Lovino took a small step to the side (wait, did that bastard just make up the distance?!). "Didn't I just say that it's none of your business?! Dio, if you must know, we're just talking about how certain nations are dumb asses!"

Spain's smile tightened a bit. "That sounds…nice."

Rolling his eyes, Netherlands turned to Romano and said, "I'm going. We can talk later, if you'd like, but there's only so much I can take of him."

"Get in line," Romano muttered. "Yeah, whatever. Thanks for coming and all that. You can grab some food to take with you, if you'd like. God knows that there's still going to have some left over after this stupid party, and there's no way I'm going to let my glutton of a fratello eat it all. He got sick last time he ate that much, and like hell I'm cleaning up any puke."

"Thank you for that delightful image," Netherlands sardonically stated, getting Romano to lightly chuckle.

"Oh, you mean Netherlands is leaving?" Spain piped in, his olive-green eyes glowing a bit. Was it just him, or did the tomato bastard look a little too pleased by that?

"Yes, I am, in a little while," Lars replied with a slight furrow of his brow. Then he turned to Lovino. "I think I'll take up your offer on that food. Thank you and good-bye, Romano."

South Italy gave him a casual wave. "See you, jerk."

The Italian jumped when Spain suddenly put an arm around him. "Bye-bye, Netherlands. See you around~" Okay, now he was sure the tomato bastard was a little more eager than usual. What the hell is his problem?

Netherlands blinked. "Don't count on it." Then he turned around and started heading for Canada.

Once he was gone, Romano actually felt Spain relax a bit. "No lo haré."

"Can't you speak so that I can understand you?!" Romano snapped as he shoved off Spain's arm. "And get off me, bastard, you're getting me wet!"

Spain blinked before giving him a rather sheepish smile. "Lo siento, Lovi. I kinda forgot that I was just in the pool." Then his eyes brightened. "Oh~ so now that you and Netherlands aren't talking anymore," the brightness darkened a bit at the other country's name, "you should be free to join me in the pool!"

Romano let out a small, annoyed growl. "Hell no, jerk! Why would I want to hang out with you?! I've got better things to do!"

It was somewhat startling to see Antonio's smile drop. "You mean you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Obviously not!"

"Why not? You were fine hanging out with Netherlands." The Spaniard actually frowned with distaste.

Lovino was slightly thrown off yet recovered quickly. "What does he have to do with anything?!"

Spain pressed his lips together. "Well…it's just that…you two looked like you were having a good time and I…I saw you laughing at his jokes and I heard you call him handsome and you let him wipe that tomato juice off you…you've never done any of that for me…"

For some reason, Romano felt his cheeks flush a bit. "So what? The pot bastard and I don't hate each other's guts and we actually sort of get along! Is that so wrong?!"

The Spaniard slowly shook his head yet maintained that disconcerting frown. "Um…no, but…" he shook his head again. "Nothing."

Confusing bastard. South Italy rolled his eyes and spontaneously thrust his half-eaten tomato at him. Spain's eyes widened and looked to him with confusion as he held onto the tomato. "Here—just take it and stop sulking, jerk! The last thing I need is for you to start pouting!"

Antonio blinked and looked from the tomato to him. "You've…you've never shared with me before." A smile began to blossom upon his kind, handsome face. "Gracias, Lovi~" Then he took a large bite out of tomato and briefly closed his eyes and sighed in bliss from the delicious flavor exploding within his mouth. The sight made Lovino freeze, finding it breathta-

No, he didn't dare finish that thought.

"Yeah, whatever," the Italian muttered. "Just stop being weird!" He paused for a moment. "And just for the record, the only reason I find Netherlands…amusing is because he made a couple of jokes in the other bastards here's expenses! Also, I didn't let him clean that tomato juice, he did it all by himself, and I said that he wasn't ugly, not handsome! Dio, I don't know where you got that shit from!"

Spain blinked and thoughtfully chewed the tomato before a tiny smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Oh okay, that clears things up." He then finished off the tomato and licked his lips. "Mmmm~ that was a good tomato. Did you grow it yourself?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Romano sarcastically inquired, glad that they were off the subject of Netherlands. It was getting pretty awkward. "Of course I did! Why would I buy someone else's shitty tomatoes when I grow the best damn tomatoes in Italy?!"

"Good point~ I'm so thrilled that you have your own tomato garden! Can I get a tour?"

"And have you mess something up? Hell no!"

Spain chuckled and remarked, "Fair enough, it's your garden. How about we practice cannonballs in the pool then? I bet I can make a bigger splash than you~"

"Why the hell do you keep asking me to go in the pool, dammit?! Are you purposely trying to get me to take my shirt off?!"

The older brunette laughed and put up his hands in appeasement. "No, not at all. Well, if you don't want to jump in the pool, we could always do something else." Spain immediately glowed at the thought. "It's your centennial. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like to be left alone without jerks like you bugging me," Romano dryly responded, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, but there must be something you want to do! We could grab some food, play fútbol…oh~ or we can dance!" Span beamed with delight and began swaying to the band's music. "How about it, Roma? Care to dance~?" He then offered a hand to the Italian nation, who was getting extremely flustered.

"Wh-what?! No! I'm not going to dance with you, bastard! Now leave me alone!" And like a boss, Romano stormed off and started heading back to his house where he could (hopefully) be left alone for the rest of this stupid party.

Spain had other plans. "Hey Lovi, wait up! Where are you going now?!"

The Italian groaned as the Spaniard followed behind him with that usual dumb, blissful smile on his face. Can't he get a break, dammit?! Romano just wanted to be alone, especially since the tomato bastard's presence seemed to make his heart race and just make him happier in general.

Holy shit, I'm losing my mind…

To be continued...

The party's not over yet, folks! I've still got plans for Spamano at the Italian centennial ;) Stay tuned until then!

Translations:

Spanish

Hola-Hello

No lo haré-I won't

Lo siento-I'm sorry

Gracias-Thank you

fútbol-soccer

Italian

Fratello-brother

Sì-yes

bastardo-bastard

Oh merda-Oh shit

Dio-God