Pairing: Itacest. It should be obvious, but: don't like, don't read.

Summary: The Italies had some serious jealousy issues and, up to that day, they knew only one cure.

Disclaimer. If I owned Hetalia, a vast majority of the fandom would probably not be happy with the pairings they got.

Romano wasn't jealous. He had never been and never will. Not today, not tomorrow, never. He had never been jealous of his little brother for receiving all the attention he had, himself, long sought for. He had not long hated him for that. And, as the years passed by, as the Italian unification had grown closer, jealousy had not started to, progressively, morph into possessiveness over this same brother. No, right, because Romano wasn't jealous. And not more now that he was starring, from the corner of his eyes, at Veneziano joking around with this idiota friend of him. And he didn't care about the fact that Germany didn't seem to be that implicated in the conversation either, because he was absolutely not jealous in the first place, what was so difficult to understand about that?

Romano grunted as he tried to get his gaze away from the scene. He stayed, what, a good thirty seconds focused on whatever stupid shit was America saying before it inevitably went back to his little brother. For God's sake, what the hell could they be talking about? Wasn't Germany usually the one to shout at other people for them to pay attention? His eyes travelled from Veneziano to America, from one point to another again and again, repetitively, like he didn't want for it to look like he was actually staring. And when the older Italian brother caught an oh-so-unusual shy smile appearing on Germany's face and the latter carefully avoiding the younger Italian gaze, he felt a wave of awful feelings growing in his chest. A mixture of hatred, annoyance, possessiveness and irritation, not of jealousy. A frown grew on his forehead and he gritted his teeth. He hated this potato idiot. Veneziano would never seem to shut up about this annoying friend of him, so much that it, sometimes, left the older Italian wondering if he wasn't actually doing that on purpose. Veneziano just knew how much of a was a possessive jerk his brother could be and, yet, he didn't seem to do anything to act on it. I'm here too, why can't you see it?

And only when England's voice rang in his hears, did Romano eventually set his eyes on the figure at the back of the room.

"Meeting dismissed for today. We'll see you all tomorrow."

Great. Finally. The Italian quickly gathered his things and aimed directly at the exit. The sooner he would be back at his hotel, the better. Walking at a rapid pace as he was trying hard to avoid a particular someone, his failure was not long to be observed:

"Lovi, wait for me~"

The slightly smaller figure was quick to catch up, starting to walk alongside his brother. Romano only get the time to catch the side of this annoying goofy smile of him – this smile he would find to be rather cute when they would be laying in bed together, but, for the time being, just plain annoying – before focusing back on the path in front of him. Why did his brother really had to be that oblivious ? He was pissed, wasn't that clear enough?

"I know!" Italy exclaimed out of the blue. "What about we make some pasta this evening?"

"What about you spend some time with your stupid potato friend, instead?" Romano snapped back almost immediately, instinctively.

The answer he received, left Veneziano totally dumbfounded for a brief moment. Romano knew because he caught him stopping for a second before, eventually, catching up again. When he felt a hand taking his own, his first reflex was to try and get away, but to no avail. When he really wanted to, Feliciano could display unexpected strength.

"Oh, fratellone~ You're jealous, that's so cute~"

Romano looked away, cursing under his breath. Goddammit, he was not jealous. How many time should he repeat it for everyone to comprehend?

"Stolto." he cursed. "Don't hold my hand when there is other people around."

Veneziano rapidly threw a glare backward and when he caught Hungary, the last person in the crowd, possibly the last person exiting the meeting, passing by, he put some pressure on the hand he was holding, just enough to make Romano stop in his tracks and turn his way. He didn't give any sign, didn't wait a second longer before taking his brother into a tender kiss. An unexpected kiss from Romano's perspective and when he pulled away, Veneziano was not so surprised to see his brother's face already tainted in dark red.

"Germany is my friend," he said, squeezing the older Italian's hand. "You are my lover."

Romano was quick to avoid the other's gaze once again, ranting under his breath. "Whatever."

"You should really start working on those jealousy issues of yours."

Veneziano was not of the jealous kind. Really. He had never felt the need to be, had always been fairly happy of his life and the friends he got himself. He had long been admiring of his older brother, true, of how he was able to speak his mind so freely, to rely on no one, but himself, but jealous, he had never been. He didn't like the feeling in the first place, it brought out a darker side of his personality he wasn't so sure he appreciated. He was not of the jealous kind, but sometimes he would look at his brother from afar and feel it slowly growing inside.

Veneziano hated to note that his brother would always rather choose to go talking to Spain instead of coming to see him. He rarely said anything about this, however. Romano had his friends and he had his owns, this was it. So he would silently watch from a distance: the two nations talking, Spain laughing heavily and Romano cute blush spreading on his cheeks. Wait, what? He was blushing? Why was he blushing? Lovino never blushed, he was too proud to ever let that happen. Even when it was only the two of them, he rarely allowed it. And here it went again. Veneziano could feel this thing growing in his chest, this thing that was far from being pleasant. Standing up – and not carrying a bit for the strange gaze he received from Ludwig – he traced toward where his brother and Spain were sitting. He was not going to stay here and watch Lovino melt into the Spaniard's arms.

"Ve, Spagna~" he said, putting on the happy face even though, at the moment, he didn't feel like acting any way nicely toward the Spanish nation. He would blame it on the twisted feeling. He liked Antonio a lot, really, just… not now. "Can I borrow my brother for a while?"

Spain looked surprised by the question. "Uh. Sure." he eventually answered.

Romano threw an annoyed glare at his former boss before focusing on Veneziano. "Don't I have my word to say in that?"

As Feliciano quickly caught his wrist, not waiting any longer to drag him out of the meeting room, he guessed that no, he did not.

"Feli, what the –" But Romano didn't get to end his sentence that he was slammed against the nearest wall. Goddamit, that hurt. He didn't really get to register the growing pain in his back either that a pair of lips were crushing against his. There were bites here and there and tongues playing with one another, all that in a really short amount of time. And Veneziano ended the kiss as abruptly as he had initiate it. A passionate kiss that let the older Italian completely under shock.

"Don't you ever try doing that again."

Romano didn't even manage a confused frown at the sentence. "Doing what?"

"Seeing other people."

It took a moment for the older of the two Italies to process what his brother was implying. "Wait. Spain? I would never – He's like an older brother or something."

"Si, and what am I?"

Romano didn't achieve to get an answer straight away. He didn't know what was the scariest, his brother unusually cold tone or the fact that he could really think there was something going on between him and Spain. "That's – That's not –"

And, just like that, Veneziano's innocent smile was back on his lips. Now, he knew: this was definitely the scariest. "That's okay, fratello, I'm not looking for excuses."

Lesson learned: never in a lifetime should Lovino actually cheat or even consider cheating on Feliciano. Not that he had ever planned on doing it, really. Romano had encountered a lot of his brother's different faces throughout his long life, more than anyone else could ever hope to witness, but this one was by far the most frightening of them all.

Quickly enough, their lips were back together and, this time, Lovino's hands actually managed to find their way around the younger nation's neck. If he could have fooled himself into thinking this was just an innocent kiss for a moment, when Feliciano's lips travelled to his neck, the older Italian snapped back to reality, realizing where they were.

"Ehi, Feli, we're in the middle of the corridor!"

"Non mi interessa." Romano couldn't deny that there was something really sexy about the authority in his brother's voice. He might think about teasing him more often. "Maybe, this way, everyone will know you're mine, che ne dici?"

The older Italian couldn't help, but smirk at the irony of the situation. "And I thought I was the one having jealousy issues."

The Italies had some serious jealousy issues and, up to that day, they knew only one cure. Hopefully, no one would notice their absence.

Translation

Stolto: idiot.

Non mi interessa: I don't care.

Che ne dici: what do you say?

(my Italian is pretty rotten, so if anything sounds wrong or unatural, please, tell me!)

Itacest, guys! Also, uke!Romano. I'm not used to that either. But I like to think that Italy is not as much of a happy fool as what he likes to show. I have never written smut before, but maybe, just maybe, I'll have a go and try doing a chapter two of what is going on after that. What do you say, guys?

Anyway, I'm really in an Itacest mood those days, so, if you like this pairing, you may want to stick around just an itsy-bitsy tiny bit!

~Asctera