Everything felt... soft.

Not hazy and distant, like it'd been feeling for who knew how long. Not numb or fuzzy and indistinct. He was definitely lying on something soft, and comfortable and warm. It was such a foreign feeling, and his mind struggled to understand it all. Really though... how much should he struggle to understand? He felt warm and soft and comfortable. He wasn't cold or hurting or afraid. 'Blankets...' he realized, must be covering him, raising his temperature.

Nothing felt as warm as his right hand though, nothing as real and hot and wonderful as the weight in his hand and surrounding it.

Veneziano opened his eyes, squinting against the light for just a moment. Everything felt blurred and distorted and unfocused, but he knew it would pass. Surely it must. If he was here, feeling so warm and safe and wonderful... then he must... he must be...

"F-Fratello?" He followed the voice, followed the feel of the weight in his hand to see what was nearly a mirror image of him seated at the side of the bed. Romano stared at him like a man who'd been jolted awake, who wasn't entirely certain if he was awake or dreaming, and the thought of it nearly made Veneziano break out into a laugh. Wasn't he the one who should be questioning if this was just a dream?

"Veneziano... h-hey, are you awake?" The weight in his hand increased... no, the pressure tightened. There was a loud scraping sound as Romano stood from his stool abruptly, the furniture clattering over onto the floor. Too stunned to speak for a moment, the younger of the Italies tried to process the memories that crept up, tried to understand what was going on. Was he really... could it be true... was he... was he...

Free?

More heat, this time spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks. Tears, something he'd been trying so very hard not to shed in that place in front of those people. Sure, he was prone to tears when he got emotional, but he'd tried so hard not to cry in front of them...

"Damnit Veneziano, answer me!" His brother's yelling snapped Veneziano out of the past, reminded him that he was here... wherever that was... and that his poor fratello looked like he was about to burst from worry.

Coughing and sniffling, he tried to nod his head. He felt so very weak, he almost felt like a stranger trying to manipulate his body. "V-Ve... I'm..." He was at a loss for what to say, so it was a good thing when he was suddenly gripped in a hug, his brother nearly falling on top of him to do so. More memories of the rescue flooded into Veneziano's mind, and he just couldn't help it. He started bawling, crying loud and sloppily and like a little child. Surely it could be forgiven and overlooked... especially since it sounded like Romano was doing the same.

"D-Damn it... You s-stupid little brother..." Romano's voice was muffled into Veneziano's shoulder, but the younger Italy heard each and every grumble that passed through his brother's lips. Still, despite the verbal abuse reaching his ear as his brother's mouth turned more and more foul, Veneziano felt loved. He felt it in the tone of the words and the tight tight way his brother hugged him close. He felt it in every tear that fell from his brother's eyes.

"Ve... brother... am I... home...?" The question crept past his lips before he could even really process it, and the moment he uttered it his heart gave an uncomfortable little flop. His body tensed and so did Romano's, his kin releasing him enough to lean back slowly.

His eyes puffy and red, South Italy stared at him in disbelief, worry and fear poorly hidden in his eyes.

"Of course you are... i-idiot... can't you tell?" Hot as his brother's voice was, there was honest trepidation.

Veneziano lowered his gaze, tempted to bite his lip as he thought about it. Tried to feel it. If he was home, back in his country... then he shouldn't even have to wonder. He should know. Deep in his bones and his blood... he should never ever have to question if he was on Italian soil.

But he was... but he couldn't tell... and the misery that began to creep up his spine and freeze his fingers and toes left him feeling dizzy. "I... I can't... tell..."

Romano cut him off, giving his body a bit of a shake, bedside manners for the sick be damned apparently. "That's just because you're tired! I bet you're just... just... you're just confused right now. That's all."

Veneziano gave the room he was in a proper look though, and sure enough it was his room... in his house. How could he feel nothing being here? There were more memories that came forward in his mind... memories that brought an answer he didn't want to face. That horrible feeling... feeling the connection to his people slowly being severed... feeling them pulling away and depending on someone else. He could remember... he could remember the pain and emptiness that'd started to fill him that had nothing to do with the physical tortures he went through...

"Fratello... am I... am I... still... North Italy?"

"Of course you are!" Romano snapped out the answer without hesitation, and Veneziano flinched. His brother always had a bad temper... but he'd never heard his brother quite that angry before!

The older Italian fully released the younger, taking a step back from the bed and propping his hands on his hips. "Why the hell would you even ask that, stupid little brother!" Romano was fuming, his face bright red as he jerked a thumb at his chest. "I'm South Italy, and you;'re..." He pointed accusingly at Veneziano. "North Italy! Now and forever, got it? Don't think you can dump all of the responsibility on me damnit! Do you even know how hard I've had to work covering your share of things? Chigi! Once you get out of this bed you're taking over for a while... I'm taking a vacation!"

Romano had taken to pacing, and Veneziano would almost swear he saw angry puffs of steam coming from his brother's nose as he ranted. "And you're cooking for me a week.. no... a month! Anything I want! And... and..."

South Italy stopped suddenly, fixing a glare that was softened only by the worry that tried to force him to tears. "And you're not allowed to go off with Grandpa Rome without me ever again, got it!" Romano stormed back to the bed, grabbing up Veneziano's hand and holding it so tight it hurt. "It took us forever to be together... s-so... it's you and me... North and South Italy... until... the end. Got it? You're not allowed to die... o-or... stop being a Nation without me."

The two Italians locked eyes, and North Italy gave his brother a little smile. He squeezed Romano's hand, and it seemed to be a signal for the two to hug again. It was much calmer this time, less frantic now that emotions were being spent and used up. Veneziano still couldn't feel it... his connection to his people or his land... but it'd be ok. Romano said he was still Italy... so... so it'd be ok. He'd believe his big brother. "Thank you fratello..." He whispered the words. Romano just squeezed him in answer.

"Oh? It's quiet again? But I thought I heard voices! Helloooo? Romano? Ita~? Are you awake?" From the doorway came a familiar voice, and North Italy looked up to see Spain entering the room. The moment the Spaniard took in the scene his face broke into a giant smile, the older Nation all but skipping into the room. "You're awake! Ita, welcome back! Romano, see? I told you he'd wake up soon!"

Grudgingly South Italy looked up, moving to sit at the side of the bed rather than hug North Italy any longer. Spain rushed in, setting a basket he was carrying down by the bedside before giving Veneziano a hug of his own. "Welcome back, welcome back!" Warm and exuberant as ever, Spain's happiness to see North Italy couldn't be hidden. Nor could the relieved look he shot to South Italy as well.

"Thank you big brother..." Veneziano started, when suddenly it hit him. That... that smell! That wonderful wonderful smell! "V-Ve... big brother Spain... is that... did you bring..."

South Italy started to sniff as well, his eyes suddenly growing wide as he tossed an angry look at Spain. "Oy! Bastard! I said just bring some tomato juice!"

Sure enough, Spain ducked down, picking up his basket and pulling back the cover to reveal a package of freshly cooked pasta. Veneziano was all but drooling as he stared at it, and would have literally tossed himself onto it if he could just make his body work to do it.

"Aww, but Romano... Ita hasn't had any pasta in so long, the boss thought he'd really really like it..."

"Well of course he would you idiot! But the doctors said he wasn't allowed to eat solid foods right after he woke up! You bastard, I told you this!" South Italy had moved over and was trying to physically pull the basket away, Spain resisting feebly.

"I'm sure he could do it... look how much he wants it..."

"I can do it, I can do it!" North Italy vehemently assured his brother. "I... I'm a Nation... we don't have the same medical recovery as our citizens... and to recover I need pasta. Please Romano... pastaaa~"

"Am I the only one with any sense in here... hey! Bastard!" Using his size to his advantage, Spain finally succeeded in getting the pasta to Veneziano, who sent him a grateful look before digging in. "Stop that... damn it!"

Pouting and crossing his arms, Veneziano was in too much pasta bliss to watch his brother pout and grumble over the situation. He was in his own personal heaven so he didn't pay any attention as Spain tried to apologize and get back in his brother's good graces. All that mattered right now... no... ever... was the wonderful wonderful taste of pasta in his mouth!

There was a rumble in his stomach, a growling noise that was heard throughout the room.

"...Ita? Are you... ok?"

The rumble repeated, and Veneziano began to feel a bit... unwell...

"Damnit! See, I told you!"

"Hold on Ita, I'll get a bucket! Hold on, wait for the boss!"

"P-Pasta... don't... leave... me..."

Author's Note:

Short... so short! And... ugh, I can't really vouch for the quality either. But it's an update! I haven't written anything in so long it's been driving me mad! So... even if this is utter crap... I'm just happy to have it up!

I had to rewrite this so many times, trying to keep it from being a massive angst fest... and it still was damn it! This was supposed to be brofluff for the Italies! Oh well. Maybe I'll do better next chapter: brofluff German style.

Whenever I get that up. Sigh. Thanks for reading, and reviews are truly loved.