West Italy (HETALIA)

Chapter 8

Germany cleared his throat. "Thank you for all gathering here. Antonio and I have some questions-"

"Hey, potato bastard, shut up! I'm trying to enjoy my breakfast."

"Lovi, that's mean! Ludwig's just trying to-"

"I don't care," the older Italy sniffed. "Breakfast is a time for waking up. There's no room for meetings. Requires too much thought."

"But fratello! You had to have thought before breakfast in the past!" Italy leaned in closer to his brother. "Haven't you and Toni ever had morning-" Romano clapped his hand over his brother's mouth.

"...You were saying, fucker?"

"R-right. Well." Germany stammered, face red. "As I was saying, Antonio and I have some questions regarding America."

"We do?" Spain blinked.

Germany blinked. "Yes," he said slowly. "...Does your head still hurt?"

"How'd you know?" Spain gasped.

Germany stared for a moment longer before turning back to the brothers. "Anyway."

"Toni, your head hurts?" Feliciano asked, concerned, shooting up from the table. "I'll go get you some pain killers!"

"Feliciano!" Germany yelled at the retreating form before sighing. Why couldn't anything ever be easy?

The younger brother quickly returned, handed Spain some pills and, with a smile, sat back down. Then he blinked at Germany's expression. "Luddy, are you ok? The vein on your head is sticking out. Do you have a headache too? I'll go get some more pills," he rambled, getting out of his chair once again before being stopped by his lover.

"Italy! Sit down!" the blond shouted.

Italy blinked before tearing up. "Ludwig doesn't like me anymore!"

"What?" Germany blinked. "What makes you think that?"

"You called me 'Italy!' You never call me that anymore outside of meetings!"

"It just...I didn't mean it."

"Yes you did!"

"No, I'm sorry, Feli."

Romano, realizing the two needed a few minutes to sort things out, grudgingly grabbed his lover's arm and led him out of the room. "Come on, let me show you my new...towels."

Spain went to protest, not wanting to see little Feliciano upset, but knew better than to argue against Romano showing him anything he bought.

*****

Five minutes later, the Mediterranean couple returned hand in hand.

"Are you sure those were new towels, Lovi? They look just like your old ones."

Romano scowled. He hadn't actually thought Spain paid attention to his towel collection. "Oh look," he said, nudging his head towards the table where his brother was sitting in the blond nation's lap. "They made up. Let's go try to eat again. Maybe this time the bastard won't ruin it."