Hetalia oneshots

Ever after (itacest)

°Warning° this contains incest do not like don't read  °warning°

“Ve, Fratello, Big Brother France was teaching me.”

Romano looked up to see his younger, excited brother running towards him. Romano let out a long sigh; he knew it had been a bad idea to let Italy go off with France alone.

Romano was glad that they had been getting along better now these days; sharing a house would do that to you. They didn't fight as often and Romano had once gone ten minutes without insulting Germany, it had ended in a fist fight and it had only been that one time, but still.

Secretly, Romano was jealous of the Potato Bastard, after all, he was closer to his brother that he was and they weren't related. Sure, maybe growing up apart had something to do with it, along with the fact that he was not big on physical affection, which was basically all his brother knew.

Romeo frowned and carefully pried his brother off, taking his hands and forcing the hyper Italian to sit on the couch.

“France was talking about love,” Italy said bouncing slightly; he gave a small frown, eyebrows creasing with the effort. “Fratello, what is incest? France asked me if we were doing incest. What's incest? Is it a game?”

Romano paled, eyes widening, he cursed under his breath before adding, “Stupid frog.” He paused and looked at his brother who was watching him expectantly. “Ah, well Fratello, I’ll tell you later. Let’s go make some pasta, si?”

“Si, Fratello, let’s a go,” Italy cheered softly and hopped up to heat the stove.

Romano let out a light sigh; perhaps his brother would forget the foolish Frenchman's words. That would be better, for all of them.

“Here, help me set the table,” Romano said. He chose the correct place settings and two glasses and set them on the table. He paused, craning his neck as he heard the clatter of dishes falter and end followed by a loud noise. He followed the hallway to the kitchen. “Fratello, what's the matter?” Romano frowned when there was no reply and then he noticed his brother's slightly shaking figure. “Fratello?” he bit his tongue harshly, to stop a curse from sliding out.

His brother was bleeding, long scrapes and cuts trailing down his arms and back. The shards of a glass dish danced across the floor. Romano guessed that it was the reason red was spreading across his brother's clothing like wildfire.

“Ve!” Italy squealed, turning quickly, throwing his arms about himself in an attempt to hide the wounds.

Romano crossed the room in three quick strides, forcing his brother's arms away and studying the long cuts. He forced a tight smile onto his face that despite recent efforts still looked and felt extremely out of place.”Fratello,” he caught his brother's chin and lifted Italy's face so that their eyes met. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?”

The silence filled the room as they sat on the couch, Romano's hands flying skillfully over the bandages. He knew that Italy could have taken care of them himself; after all both of them had been in the mafia. However, Romano was going into overprotective older brother mode and his instincts were screaming. Besides that, his brother didn't seem to mind.

“Romano, what does it mean?” Italy's voice was barely above a whisper. “France only laughed.”

Romano flushed, knowing that his brother would not stop until he got the answer. Despite how he appeared in other countries' eyes, Romano knew that his brother was smart, cunning and fierce in battle, this, of course, did not change the fact that he hated fighting. Romano and Italy knew that they were not useless; this was in fact how they chose to appear. Pride was sacrificed so that their people's blood would not. All of this in mind, Romano turned and asked, “Feliciano, are you sure you want to know?”