Disc: I don't own Hetalia or it's characters. This is purely fanwork borne from a desire for more Romano. More Romano!

Don't worry about reviewing. This is mostly self-service, as it were. Not that I hope you don't enjoy it, of course, but I won't cry if you don't.

It all started because that idiot Feliciano got himself sick. Not seriously or anything, it was just a stupid cold, but it was enough to keep him from going to the world meetings, which meant Romano had to go instead. He tended to skip them whenever he could. After all, Feliciano almost invariably attended, since wherever Germany went you could find North Italy, and the meetings didn't need two Italys. He hated feeling superfluous. Besides, on the rare occasion he did go stupid Spain and his bastard friends tended to be there, and when all three of them were together they spent so much time harassing him and anyone else within touching distance that he could never concentrate on getting any work done.

But here he was, sitting through a tedious (but thankfully Spain-free) meeting 'cause that idiot brother of his wasn't up to the task and someone had to represent their interests. Someone had to Get Shit Done.

Which, ok, he was not going to admit that he was doing a pretty crappy job of, actually. He'd fallen asleep after the first half hour of the meeting, which wasn't his fault, dammit. The meeting had started late, and he'd been up all night taking care of stupid Feliciano (not that he was worried about the moron, it's just that if Feliciano was sick then Romano would have to do all the work for the both of them, and all that coughing and sniffling would have kept him up all night anyway), and really half of the nations could go back and forth ad naseum about absolutely nothing. It was amazing more people didn't sleep through meetings.

He hadn't even woken when America'd slammed his hand on the table and declared the meeting adjourned. Finally blinking awake, groggy and slightly disoriented, he hoped he hadn't missed anything important. Highly unlikely, but he made a mental note to steal the potato-bastard's notes later to make sure. The room was nearly empty now, just a few stragglers here and there, chatting or wrapping up business. Oh well, it wasn't like he'd had any business to take care of during the meeting, himself. In fact, aside from showing up and representing his nation, the only real business he had this time 'round was with that idiot America.

Who was on his way out, Romano noticed, so he'd better get his butt in gear.

"Oi, you! America! Wait up, you stupid bastard!" He called out. The nation in question shot a curious glance over his shoulder in response, stopping obediently as he waited for Romano to catch up.

"Hey there!" he greeted Romano with a smile. "What's up?"

"You keep your 'hey there'," Romano grumbled, "I've got business with you."

"You do?" America's sunny smile didn't falter.

"You think I'd be wasting my time with you otherwise, bastard?" Romano huffed, irritated by the other's incessant good cheer.

"I don't know for sure," America admitted, "I don't know you well enough to guess your motivation. But hey," he continued, cutting across what would've been a scathing retort from Romano,"Can we discuss it over lunch? I sorta missed breakfast, and I'm starving."

"What? I'd rather not spend any more time with you than I-"

"Great!" America interrupted again, slinging an arm around the Italian's shoulders and ushering him out the door. "I know a little diner right down the street, it'll be great!"

AN: I have no control over the characters. They just do whatever they want. Is that normal? It plays merry hell with my plotlines, such as they are.