Romano left. Where? Italy didn't know. When would he come home? Italy didn't know that either. Romano just packed a small bag, grabbed his guitar, got in the car and drove off. Italy didn't think much of it though.

To pass the time, Italy did whatever came to him. He ate the leftovers from last night. He watched bad TV for a while. Afterwards, he played soccer by himself, which soon proved to be much more trouble than it was worth.

He worried, though. What could Romano possibly be doing out for this long?

When he finished his siesta and found that Romano was still not home, Italy figured that he wouldn't be returning for a while. He laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Being alone wasn't something Italy was good at. He needed to be around people, to play with, to talk to, to spend time with.

He looked at the ceiling fan. The squeaky sound of it lazily lounging around made Italy feel like he was going crazy. How long was he supposed to sit there until Romano finally decided to come home? If he decided to come home.

Then it popped up in his mind again. The infamous box that was hidden in his night stand. Italy's eyes moved over to it, staring at the drawer.

Well, Romano won't be home for a while. He thought as he reached over to pull out the box. And it is boring around here. And I should . . . test it out. Right? By the time he'd made his decision he had already popped one of the DVD's in the slot in his computer.

"Oh, right, I should get ready." He muttered to himself. He nervously took off the boxers he slept in, tossing them to the end of the bed so he could retrieve them easily later on.

Italy opened up his laptop, typing in the password and playing whichever DVD he chose. He didn't really look when he put it in. Biting his lip he fiddled with the volume so it was loud enough, but just for himself. He pressed play and leaned back.

It started off normally. Two men were sitting on a couch, smiling at the camera with a hand on each others knee. They were talking, but Italy wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying. Anxiousness and a tang of apprehension washed over him. He'd never gotten off to men before. This was a new experience. And what would happen if he couldn't get turned on by this? What would happened between him and Germany? Would it change their relationship? Or would it not matter because he loved Germany that much?

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that the two men had begun kissing, slowly undressing each other. They were both about equal when it came to body type. Both were lean, but built in a small way. And they were about the same height as well. But one of them had a sandy sort of shade of hair, while the other's was dark and covered not only his head but also face, giving him what girls would find an attractive sort of scruff.

Italy could feel his heart beating slightly faster in his chest as the blonde got down to his knees, undoing the belt of the latter and beginning to suck off the other person. Italy could feel himself growing dimly aroused. It wasn't as if it gave any proof. Anything sexual could be slightly arousing, he wasn't convinced until . . .

When the blonde pulled off of the brunette. With a pop, he went back up, both men kissing as the other turned around. He bent over the couch, allowing the other to bring his chest to his back. The man with the scruff took a small bottle from the floor, squirting a clear liquid on his erection before gently pushing in.

Both men hissed and Italy's breath hitched. Perhaps I'm more gay than I thought! He thought as he grabbed his growing member in his hands. As they started moving, so did Italy. He wasn't going to lie, it was pretty hot. Especially the moans the other was making.

As his hand moved up and down his shaft, occasionally grabbing some more lotion to ease his movements, he closed his eyes. The moans were hot enough. He could just picture his boyfriend, also hard, also moaning and grunting. He wondered what Germany's erection looked like.

Lost in it all, Italy brought his free hand down further. Between his ass cheeks, he placed a lone finger. It sat at his entrance with a small amount of pressure, waiting to breach his hole. But Italy couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. He wanted to wait that much for the real thing, for Germany. When he and his lover were alone, naked, and finally together. He was a hopeless romantic like that.

He drew his hand away and focused on his penis instead.

"Mmm, Germany." He moaned. His movements became faster and harder as he came in his hand. Italy let out a sigh, grabbing some tissues off the off the nightstand to clean himself up.

The porno was almost over, but porn stars are much better at holding back an orgasm, or at least making it sound that way. Italy noted that the man receiving the penetration was moaning, a lot. Does it really feel that good? Italy thought as he cocked his head to the side. Perhaps taking Germany's penis will feel that good too. He smiled, turning off the nearly finished movie and picking up his phone. He dialed Germany's number.

Ring. Ring.

"Hallo?" The gruff man asked on the other end.

"Germany?" Italy said happily. "It's me, Italy." He could hear the other man sigh happily on the other side.

"Ja, I know it's you. How are you?" Italy giggled.

"I'm rea~lly good."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Germany pinched his nose on the other end of the line, not quite understanding his boyfriend. Although, Italy always managed to baffle him. "I miss you." Germany smiled.

"I miss you too."

"You used to like it when I left."

"Never."

"Really?" Italy sat up. "But I always messed up your house and bothered you and interrupted you when you were doing important things."

"Ja, you did. You still do, but I liked having you around more than I liked everything organized. You were my only friend and, as much as you gave me a migraine, I enjoyed your company."

"I like being around you too." They were silent for a moment, not really sure of what to say next, but content to just waste the minuted to know that the other was on the end of the phone. "I'm worried, Germany."

"About what?"

"Romano hasn't returned home all day."

"Perhaps he's out with some friends . . . or maybe he's just out."

"I don't know. I'm scared something might have happened."

"It's okay, just give him time. He'll return eventually."

"I really hope so."

"Call me tomorrow morning if he still hasn't returned. Got it?"

"Si." Prussia knocked on the door of Germany's office, entering but still waiting for Germany to finish his conversation.

"I have to go, but I'll hear from you soon?"

"Si. Ti amo." Germany blushed, glaring up at his brother and turning away and muttering,

"Ich liebe dich." Before he promptly hung up. He put the book he had in his hand down.

"Aw, how sweet. Listen, West, I'm heading out for a couple of days. I should be back soon, though. Give it three days? Alright? Alright, awesome, bye." He said, exiting the room. Germany looked shocked as he got up and out of his chair, following behind his elder brother.

"Wait, what? Where are you going?" He followed him.

"It's nothing. I'm just going to pick up Spain at France's, bring him home and hang out with him for a couple of days."

"But I thought you said he was coming here."

"He still is." Prussia said, grabbing his bag in the living room and heading out the door with Germany still following behind him. "We just thought, France and I, that I'd bring him back home to get him back on his feet. Then I might bring him here once he's better."

"Why even bother bringing him here? Why not just stay in Spain?" Germany asked as Prussia got in the car.

"What, do you not like having me around?" The albino asked with a smirk. Germany frowned, eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

"It's not that, but it does seem like you're carting him around an awful lot."

"He'll be fine. I'll be home in three days."

"Fine."

"Auf wiedersehen!" He called as he began to back out of the driveway.

"Auf wiedersehen."