"You're up early," Belgium said surprised to find her brother already in the kitchen for breakfast. "And showered and dressed. That's impressive for you," she added looking her brother over.
"I actually woke up this morning," Netherlands stated opening the refrigerator to retrieve the orange juice. "Want a glass?"
The Belgian opened one of the cabinets, and took out two glasses. "Sure," she answered handing her brother the glasses.
The Dutchman set the glasses he was handed on the kitchen counter. "I looked at your car this morning," he said pouring the juice.
"Already?" Belgium asked raising her eyebrows from surprise. "Wow, you must have gotten up early. You've even cleaned yourself up after the inspection."
"Yeah," Netherlands answered handing Belgium her glass of orange juice. "It looked pretty awful under the hood. Like something used hedge clippers to cut everything important out."
"Oh?" The Belgian's voice didn't contain any of the worry she was feeling. "Why hedge clippers? If it was a animal, it would have used it teeth or claws."
The Dutchman placed the orange juice back inside the fridge. "It was probably a human."
"A human?" Belgium let her voice sound slightly surprised. "Why would somebody do something like that?"
"Who knows?" Netherlands shrugged. "Did you piss anybody off recently?"
"I don't think so."
"I wonder how your car got vandalized." The Dutchman took a sip of his orange juice. "Its been in the garage for the past few days, right?" he stated setting his glass down on the counter.
"Of course. Do you think somebody broke in?" the Belgian asked sounding worried, but not for the reason her brother thought.
"Anything's possible." Netherlands shrugged and picked back up his glass of orange juice. "I don't put security cameras in the garage so it's hard to say."
"I don't understand, why somebody would want to destroy my car."
"Maybe you did piss somebody off." The Dutchman paused took another swallow of his drink. "Could it be possible that your dating of mini Spain is making big Spain jealous?"
Belgium hadn't considered her brother making this conclusion. "Oh dear goodness, of course not. Spain is my brother. He's doesn't have romantic interest in me. He wouldn't be jealous of Romano."
Netherlands frowned. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of Spain being jealous of you, because you took his boy-toy away from him."
"What?" The Belgian really should have considered this theory before she destroyed her own vehicle. "Don't tell me that you believed that untrue rumor too."
"They do hang out a lot with each other."
"I hang out with you a lot, and you don't have romantic interest in me," Belgium stated. "This is like the third time I came over to your house this month."
"Fourth actually." Netherlands sighed. "You still should watch out for Spain."
"Spain doesn't have a thing for Romano," the Belgian corrected. "He pretty much raised Romano. And they just both have a thing for tomatoes."
"Right." The Dutchman didn't sound like he bought it.
"Besides," Belgium added, "Spain found out about me dating Romano the same time you did, and that was after my car was vandalized."
"Sure." Netherlands was obviously thinking that Spain somehow knew about their dating ahead of time, and angrily disapproved, and decided to torment Belgium by destroying her car with hedge clippers. "I'll call Germany and let him look at it. Maybe your car can still be fixed."
"Yay, new car!" The Belgian laughed jokingly.
"Maybe your honeybun will buy you your next car."
Belgium smiled and took a sip of her orange juice. "That would certainly make him the best boyfriend ever."
Romano was still asleep, and Spain really needed somebody to talk too. His little underling finally dating somebody was really something to chat about. The Spaniard really wanted the Italian to give him details on everything.
He could wake Romano up, but that won't be very nice. The Italian really isn't a morning person. He says more profanities in the morning, than he would say if he was injured severely.
The Spaniard sighed and took out his phone. If you couldn't get details from the person, then the next best thing would be to gossip about the person with one of your best friends.
"Hola," Spain cheerfully said after the phone rang twice.
On the other end, a just-woken-up Frenchman groaned. "Why are you calling me at such a ungodly hour?"
"It's only six-thirty, amigo." The Spaniard laughed.
"My beauty sleep doesn't come to a end till eight-thirty!" France exclaimed. "Your taking away two hours of my precious sleep!"
"I just want somebody to talk to," Spain explained justified his reason for ruining his friend's sleep. "Romano's still asleep, and it would be rude to wake him up."
"Oh, and its not rude to wake me up?"
The Spaniard laughed and ignored the question. "My little underling is going out with Belgium!"
"Which underling?"
"Romano!"
"Romano?" France repeated. "As in South Italy? Did I hear you correctly?"
"You most definitely did," Spain cheerfully confirmed. "Yesterday they announced their one week anniversary. Isn't that something? It's been a week, and they're still so happy to be together."
"I didn't know Italy's brother was dateable." On the other end of the phone the Frenchman sighed. "I wish I was the one to figure that out," he mumbled.
The Spaniard didn't hear what the Frenchman mumbled. "Me either!" he exclaimed. "Until they announced their one week anniversary, I thought Italy inherited all the lover genes. I guess Belgium brought a new romantic side out of him."
"I wish I brought that new side out of him," France mumbled. "Well, Belgium is a belle fille."
"I'm so happy for both of them. With Romano receiving my advice he won't screw this up."
"That would be like writing the poor boy a death sentence." The Frenchman laughed. "He won't screw this up if I'm the one giving the advice."
The Spaniard chuckled. "Why don't you just tell him to get naked and roll in sandpaper? That advice would be better than whatever you want to tell him."
"I might tell him to get naked. A little expression never destroyed a relationship," France confirmed, "but I won't tell him to roll in sandpaper. Only you would think of telling him to do something like that."
"No, you would."
"You're the one that said it first."
"I probably just restated something you said before."
"You must have been drunk when you heard that-"
Spain cut France off. "No, you must have been drunk when you said that."
"That must have been a interesting party," the Frenchman said jokingly. "How did our little Romano win Belgium over, anyway?"
"He said that she helped her get his car out of the ditch, and that she just looked cute in the rain-"
France cut the story off. "Oui, he won her over like a Frenchman. Grabbing her in the rain and forcing her lips to his." He paused pleased with himself. "I should give little Romano a call and congratulate him."
The Spaniard laughed. "Good luck talking to him in the morning."
Romano's stupid phone interrupted his pleasant dreams. He rolled over on his bed and picked up his phone.
"Félicitations!" exclaimed an overly cheery French accent.
"Do you have any idea what time it is, bastard?" The Italian's voice would have sounded angrier if he didn't just wake up.
"I hear that you're dating Belgium," France said ignoring the question. "I'm so glad that you have a romantic side. Next time you see her, grab her by the shoulders and-"
Romano cut him off by hanging up. As soon as he was awake enough to leave his bed he'll have to give Spain a piece of his mind. He's an Italian. He doesn't need love advice from a Spaniard or a Frenchman.
Germany had just finished his morning jog when his phone with off. He sighed and took it out of his pocket. Hopefully, Prussia wasn't calling because he lost the television remote in the couch again.
The German sighed when he read the name form the caller id. Well, at least East didn't lose the remote again. "Hello?"
"Hi, Germany, I was wondering if you could come by my house and look at my sister's car," Netherlands said on the other end of the phone.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Somebody vandalized it by cutting everything under the hood with hedge clippers."
Germany frowned. "Hedge clippers?"
"That's what it looked like," the Dutchman replied. "I just want to know if she needs a new car or not."
"That'll depend on how bad it is." The German took out a day planner. "What time do you want me to come look at it?"
"Whatever time is good with you," Netherlands answered. "I'll have to drive Belgium for her date with Romano around six pm or so."
Germany blinked. He would ask about the Italian getting a date, but that's not any of his business. "Four good with you?"
"Sure." The Dutchman paused. "Hey, do you know anything about security cameras?"
Before the German could answer his phone made a noise indicating that he had another call. "Sorry, but I have another call."
"Bye." Netherlands hung up.
Germany groaned when he realized who was interrupting his call. "What is it this time?"
"West, you lost the remote again!" Prussia exclaimed on the other end of the phone. "This is really unawesome, because the TV is stuck on a Bring It On marathon."
"Did you look in the couch yet?"
Prussia laughed loudly through the phone. "Never mind, I found it. It was the pokey thing that was jabbing into my side."
"When you're done watching television-"
"Set the remote on top of the TV, so you will be able to find it without calling me," Prussia said reciting what West tells him each time.
"I'm glad you remember." The German sighed. "I won't be home till after four. Can you get dinner ready?"
"Where are you going?"
"Netherland's house. He wants me to look at Belgium's car, apparently it got vandalized with hedge clippers."
"I don't want to make dinner," Prussia complained. "Can't you make dinner before looking at her car?"
"No, because we have a set time for dinner-"
"And a set time for bathing, and a set time sleeping, and a set time for shitting." Prussia groaned. "Can't you tell Netherlands that you won't look at the car tell after the set time for dinner?'
"No, because he won't be at his house then."
"Where is that loser going?"
Germany sighed. "He has to drive Belgium to her date with Romano-"
"Romano's dating Belgium! How the hell is that possible? That idiot isn't dateable at all."
"I don't know, and that isn't our business-"
"Whatever, I'm going to give little Romano a call."
Prussia hung up before Germany could say anything else.
Romano yawned as he entered the kitchen. Before he could open the fridge, and get some food his phone went off. If this was France again he'll throw his phone into the kitchen blender and hit puree. Seriously, that Frenchman needs to get a life and stop calling him.
Well, on the bright side caller id says that France isn't calling him. "Hello?" the Italian said answering his phone.
"Hey, I heard you're dating Belgium."
"Did Spain call you too?" Great, another one of Spain's friends calling him to give him romantic advice. Like the Spaniard and the Frenchman giving his advice wasn't annoying enough.
"West actually told me," Prussia answered.
"Ugh." The Italian wasn't sure what he should say to that. Unable to think of anything he hung up.
So, the news of him dating that temptress was really spreading that fast. How the hell did the potato bastard learn about this?
Whatever, that's way too much to think about in the morning. Romano sighed opened the fridge. Before he could mumble something along the lines of, "Bastard drank all the freaking milk again", his phone went off again.
The Italian groaned, closed the fridge, and then put his ringing phone to his ear. "Hello?"
"Hey, tomato dude!" Great, America. "I heard from Canada that you were dating the waffle chick. Is it true?"
Romano sighed unsure of how Belgium would want him answering. "For one week so far."
"Awesome. Anyway, man my boss just wants to make sure that you guys don't have some secret alliance or something evil planned. Y'know like threatening to nuke the good U-S-of A, " the American stated over the phone. "Y'all guys don't, right? This relationship isn't like a cover story for plans to nuke me, right?"
"Ugh..." The Italian scratched his head. That's too much to comprehend in the morning. "No. We don't have any plans to bomb you."
"Cool, that's what I thought. Italians are way too innocent to nuke somebody." America laughed. "Well, if you ever want to double-date give me a call." He hung up before Romano could ask what he meant by double-dating.
Romano had just finished his breakfast, and was about to go take a shower, when his phone went off again.
"Bonjour!" Great, greasy French-fries again. "I'm just calling to make sure that you remember the love-"
The Italian hung before the Frenchman could finish his sentence. He was about to throw his phone out the window when another call came in. He felt slightly guilty when he saw the caller-id.
"Do you hate me?" screamed the crying voice of his brother on the other end of the phone. "France told Canada, and Canada told America, and America told England, and England-"
Romano cut his brother off. "What the hell are you talking about, Veneziano?"
On the other end of the phone Italy sniffed. "You didn't tell me that you were dating Belgium! Are we not open with each other anymore? I thought we could tell each other anything! But, apparently we can't because I had to hear that you were dating Belgium from the mailman! And mailman heard it from his hairdresser, who heard it from-"
"Slow down!" Romano complained. "I just woke up, you're speaking way to fast for me."
"I should have been one of the first to know! Not the last!" Italy cried. "Do you not love me anymore? What did I do to offend you? Was it because I left my shoes-"
"Shut Up!" Romano yelled. "I already have trouble focusing in the morning, and your whining isn't helping me."
"I did do something wrong! It's my whining! I've whined so much that you don't want to tell me anything anymore!" Italy sniffed. "I'm so sorry Romano! I'll try to make it better. I'll make you pasta-"
Romano cut his whining brother off again. "I'm not mad at you, and you don't need to make me pasta."
Italy didn't listen. "I'm so sorry-"
Romano hung up before his brother could finish. So France told Canada, who told America, who told England, who told somebody Romano didn't hear the name of, because he cut Italy off. And eventually this story of him being dateable was told to some hairdresser who told some mailman that told Italy.
How did this story spread so quickly? And how did the news end up told to random citizens, like a hairdresser and mailman? It was only around nine o'clock in the morning. Didn't these people have lives?
Romano sighed. Unable to come up with a suitable answer, he turned his phone off. He was done talking with people for today.
A/N
Poor Italy.
Anybody know why everybody was up that early?
Belle fille – Beautiful girl
Felicitations – congratulations
If these translations are incorrect please tell me. I took Spanish, so I don't really know any French.
Oh, funny story. The other day my cousin, Ellie, got a text message that said, "Happy Birthday, Jordan. From everybody here at the office." So, instead of just not responding or telling this person that they have the wrong number she texts back, "Party at my place at 7! Spread the word!" I feel sorry for this random Jordan person.