hetalia; careful [oneshot] [complete]
Title: Careful
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1, 884 words
Warnings: Kissing without explicit consent (dubcon?)
Characters/Pairings: Spain/Romano
Summary: Romano just has a lot of feelings. So sometimes, he'll express them when Spain is asleep.
Complete?: Yes
Sometimes, Romano gets a sick feeling that Spain knows, and it makes him want to die.
It's a little bit melodramatic, but dammit, he can freak the hell out and go back home and not speak to Spain for weeks - which is really fucking hard, you know; the guy's phone appears to only be able to send messages to Romano in with at least four exclamation marks in them - if he thinks he's cutting it close. He should just stop it, really. That would be far easier for the both of them, but... he doesn't think he wants to. It's stupid and really creepy and pathetic, and he knows that but he can't stop, doesn't really want to.
It's too easy, that's the problem, he thinks. Spain's always been such a heavy sleeper and he's always forgetting to take his crucifix off before he goes to bed and what if he chokes? Then Romano would have to deal with telling everyone the extremely pathetic and dumb way that Spain managed to accidentally kill himself and it would just be a pain in the ass. And Spain was enough of a pain in the ass as it was, so it was fine to prevent something like that, right?
That was how it had started. Romano had immediately regretted rebuking Spain's joke about sleeping in the same bed - because, okay, they spent a lot of time together, but he wasn't a child and he didn't need the comfort of 'boss' any more - because he was slightly kinda just a little bit afraid of the dark. Being alone made it worse, since he could sit and think about stupid he was being instead of thinking about how weird Veneziano sounded in his sleep. He had sulked for a long while, glowering at the pale shadow of the moon, before padding downstairs with his phone as a light and staring at the fridge for ten minutes before he remembered that he wasn't even fucking hungry. On his way back upstairs, he accidentally kicked some mysterious item down the stairs and then he found himself in Spain's room feeling kind of incredibly ridiculous.
Romano had walked in, expecting to act perfectly normally and to fling himself onto the other side of the bed and ignore Spain if he woke up and tried to say anything. Instead, he had rolled over onto his side and stared at the gold crucifix necklace in his hand, trying not to think about how warm it had suddenly gotten, the heat against his bare stomach that made him shiver. Spain had been fast asleep, of course, his breathing slow and his lips slightly parted; he was really not that bad-looking when he was asleep and not being a moron, his expression relaxed and his hair all tousled and damn, Romano had really wanted to kiss him.
God fucking dammit, was he pathetic. It had made his heart swell and ache and he had carefully placed the chain on the sideboard before lying flat on his back, listening to Spain breathe and trying to think about anything else. It was fucking creepy, for a start; you just don't do things like that! But he wouldn't... know, right? And it would be easy to deny, and he just - just - just once, he promised himself.
He hadn't quite managed it - a timid brush of his lips on the corner of Spain's mouth - and he had fallen asleep pressed up against the other nation, and that had been a morning he'd much rather forget, but it had been the best he'd slept in years. Blissful and dreamless, but full of a strange comforting warmth that had left him pleasantly sated in the split second before Spain practically crushed his ribs in a hug and “cute cute cute!!”.
So Romano continued, a little bolder each time, but never going past a chaste peck and burying his face into Spain's neck, breathing in and finding himself unnaturally content despite himself. His heart drummed anxiously in his chest every time, but the adrenaline rush mixed with the bizarrely comforting and Romano was pretty sure it was one of the better feelings he had experienced.
Not the best, he insisted weakly to himself.
It had become a habit, waiting up for a time when he knew Spain would have fallen asleep before slipping into his room, curling up next to him and sleeping soundly. It was better, in a way; he stopped feeling so strange every time Spain smiled at him when he did something clumsy (which was often), or at least, he could cope with that. His chest still ached and he was still mad at himself for being so powerless to stop feelings he didn't want to deal with, but it had been better than usual.
Until he had hesitated, once, brushing their noses together, and Spain's eyes were suddenly fixed on him.
Romano would testify later that it had been a very manly yelp, or at least it would have been, had he had the co-ordination to sit up and throw himself out of Spain's grip like any normal person. Instead he jerked just a second too late and Spain had caught his wrists and tugged him back down before he could do anything about it (dammit, he had forgotten about Spain's stupid fast reflexes). He had somehow managed to end up straddling Spain's waist and that was really not helping.
“W-what the hell, asshole, let go!” Romano snapped, feeling his face burn with embarrassment as he stopped pulling so hard. Spain blinked a few more times, focusing slowly, before a small smile curved his mouth and Romano had to turn and stare at the window. “The fuck are you smiling for?!”
Spain just laughed. “What're you doing?”
“What does it look like I'm fucking doing?!”
“Was it something like this?” and Spain leant up, releasing one of Romano's wrists to hold himself and gently pressing his lips to Romano's. It lasted only a few seconds as most, but they were so close and it felt - felt bizarre, a happy blank, his heart thundering rapidly in his chest despite his muscles failing to reach any sort of conclusion on movement, and he gaped stupidly at Spain as soon as he stopped, lips still tantalisingly close to his.
“So...” Spain said lowly, his breath tickling Romano's tingling skin. “Like that?”
Romano paused and stared over to the side before speaking. “No, you dipshit,” he replied. “Like this.”
And it hadn't been what he had been planning to do at all, pulling his other wrist free and pushing Spain down and kissing him instead of launching himself out of the room in embarrassment, but Spain responded so gently, letting Romano lead and holding his hips, sliding over his skin and brushing his spine and he couldn't help it. Couldn't quite help sliding his tongue into Spain's mouth and being surprised at himself, a bold tease as he tested and loosened up and wouldn't really mind if he had been here for hours, enticing soft sounds from Spain and almost himself, until an abrupt stop and - silence. Shit.
“Heh, Roma,” Spain said at last, smiling like he always did, and Romano relaxed. “kissing Boss like that! That's not very professional of you.”
“Stop saying that, you haven't been boss of shit for decades, never mind me,” he huffed, poking Spain hard in the forehead. “And what the hell, what am I meant to be 'professional' about? Stop being stupid. Or don't. Since your life would cease to have meaning.”
Not immediately answering this tirade of rather poor insults, Spain sat up (Romano slipped down onto his lap with a flinch of surprise), touching their foreheads together and looking at Romano through his eyelashes. His cheeks were flushed, too. “... Did you want to?”
“No, I just like jamming my tongue into other people's mouths because I think it's a fucking hilarious way to pass the damn time.”
“Ah!” Spain laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made Romano's lips twitch for some reason. “So you were planning on getting me in my sleep? Sneaky.”
Romano rolled his eyes, then looked down, staring and reminding himself that fucking hell, that had just happened and now they were - and Spain was just acting like always. His pessimism couldn't quite dredge up a reason for that, either. “Dammit, I- I just wanted to. Because I didn't think you'd want to and it's really fucking weird but I couldn't help it, you know, because I couldn't sleep and you're... stupid... and warm...”
Trailing off pathetically, Romano kept his eyes down and dug his nails into his palms because well shit, if he hadn't done it already he'd done it now. The silence dragged on. He was the worst person at explaining shit ever; his mind thought of better things to say right after he'd stuck his foot in it and he just fucked up like he usually did because he couldn't just be good at something. Not that it would have helped even if he was.
And he was pulled into a tight hug, Spain's nose pressed into the side of his neck, their skin flush together, and Romano told himself that it was just too much effort to punch him. “You would be so cute if you were always honest like this,” Spain started. “But I think it's better when you do it like this! It's more special, right?”
There was another pause, and Romano seriously considered cracking Spain about the head for being such... for being himself, probably. His heart was still beating hard, an anxious drumming which he was pretty sure Spain could feel, they were so close.
But he didn't mention it. “You could have said something,” Spain said, suddenly serious, sitting up and tipping Romano into his lap with him, putting them at eye-level. Romano felt his face burn, and he glanced away almost immediately. “Ah, see, you do things like that and it's really adorable but - I can't read your mind, Romano.”
“Try harder then, idiot.”
Spain's face broke into a smile and he laughed, and Romano probably would have smiled back if the world wouldn't implode upon his doing so (smiling was fucking hard, okay).
“Okay, okay, I got it. But can we sleep on it first? I can read Romano's mind better if I sleep first...”
He snorted, because Spain was fucking weird, but then nodded. “... Yeah, okay.”
But Romano stayed a certain distance away from Spain, not really sure what the hell he was meant to do now (surely you got a manual for this). Instead, he stared at the silhouette the streetlights created next to him, his muscles tense.
“I get a hug too, right?” Spain said into the darkness. “Because I really want one.”
“No. Isn't it obvious I hate you?” But he rolled over and tugged Spain closer anyway. He almost smiled.
“Of course it is!”
(And thus, nothing was solved, except Romano slept a lot better than usual.)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1, 884 words
Warnings: Kissing without explicit consent (dubcon?)
Characters/Pairings: Spain/Romano
Summary: Romano just has a lot of feelings. So sometimes, he'll express them when Spain is asleep.
Complete?: Yes
Sometimes, Romano gets a sick feeling that Spain knows, and it makes him want to die.
It's a little bit melodramatic, but dammit, he can freak the hell out and go back home and not speak to Spain for weeks - which is really fucking hard, you know; the guy's phone appears to only be able to send messages to Romano in with at least four exclamation marks in them - if he thinks he's cutting it close. He should just stop it, really. That would be far easier for the both of them, but... he doesn't think he wants to. It's stupid and really creepy and pathetic, and he knows that but he can't stop, doesn't really want to.
It's too easy, that's the problem, he thinks. Spain's always been such a heavy sleeper and he's always forgetting to take his crucifix off before he goes to bed and what if he chokes? Then Romano would have to deal with telling everyone the extremely pathetic and dumb way that Spain managed to accidentally kill himself and it would just be a pain in the ass. And Spain was enough of a pain in the ass as it was, so it was fine to prevent something like that, right?
That was how it had started. Romano had immediately regretted rebuking Spain's joke about sleeping in the same bed - because, okay, they spent a lot of time together, but he wasn't a child and he didn't need the comfort of 'boss' any more - because he was slightly kinda just a little bit afraid of the dark. Being alone made it worse, since he could sit and think about stupid he was being instead of thinking about how weird Veneziano sounded in his sleep. He had sulked for a long while, glowering at the pale shadow of the moon, before padding downstairs with his phone as a light and staring at the fridge for ten minutes before he remembered that he wasn't even fucking hungry. On his way back upstairs, he accidentally kicked some mysterious item down the stairs and then he found himself in Spain's room feeling kind of incredibly ridiculous.
Romano had walked in, expecting to act perfectly normally and to fling himself onto the other side of the bed and ignore Spain if he woke up and tried to say anything. Instead, he had rolled over onto his side and stared at the gold crucifix necklace in his hand, trying not to think about how warm it had suddenly gotten, the heat against his bare stomach that made him shiver. Spain had been fast asleep, of course, his breathing slow and his lips slightly parted; he was really not that bad-looking when he was asleep and not being a moron, his expression relaxed and his hair all tousled and damn, Romano had really wanted to kiss him.
God fucking dammit, was he pathetic. It had made his heart swell and ache and he had carefully placed the chain on the sideboard before lying flat on his back, listening to Spain breathe and trying to think about anything else. It was fucking creepy, for a start; you just don't do things like that! But he wouldn't... know, right? And it would be easy to deny, and he just - just - just once, he promised himself.
He hadn't quite managed it - a timid brush of his lips on the corner of Spain's mouth - and he had fallen asleep pressed up against the other nation, and that had been a morning he'd much rather forget, but it had been the best he'd slept in years. Blissful and dreamless, but full of a strange comforting warmth that had left him pleasantly sated in the split second before Spain practically crushed his ribs in a hug and “cute cute cute!!”.
So Romano continued, a little bolder each time, but never going past a chaste peck and burying his face into Spain's neck, breathing in and finding himself unnaturally content despite himself. His heart drummed anxiously in his chest every time, but the adrenaline rush mixed with the bizarrely comforting and Romano was pretty sure it was one of the better feelings he had experienced.
Not the best, he insisted weakly to himself.
It had become a habit, waiting up for a time when he knew Spain would have fallen asleep before slipping into his room, curling up next to him and sleeping soundly. It was better, in a way; he stopped feeling so strange every time Spain smiled at him when he did something clumsy (which was often), or at least, he could cope with that. His chest still ached and he was still mad at himself for being so powerless to stop feelings he didn't want to deal with, but it had been better than usual.
Until he had hesitated, once, brushing their noses together, and Spain's eyes were suddenly fixed on him.
Romano would testify later that it had been a very manly yelp, or at least it would have been, had he had the co-ordination to sit up and throw himself out of Spain's grip like any normal person. Instead he jerked just a second too late and Spain had caught his wrists and tugged him back down before he could do anything about it (dammit, he had forgotten about Spain's stupid fast reflexes). He had somehow managed to end up straddling Spain's waist and that was really not helping.
“W-what the hell, asshole, let go!” Romano snapped, feeling his face burn with embarrassment as he stopped pulling so hard. Spain blinked a few more times, focusing slowly, before a small smile curved his mouth and Romano had to turn and stare at the window. “The fuck are you smiling for?!”
Spain just laughed. “What're you doing?”
“What does it look like I'm fucking doing?!”
“Was it something like this?” and Spain leant up, releasing one of Romano's wrists to hold himself and gently pressing his lips to Romano's. It lasted only a few seconds as most, but they were so close and it felt - felt bizarre, a happy blank, his heart thundering rapidly in his chest despite his muscles failing to reach any sort of conclusion on movement, and he gaped stupidly at Spain as soon as he stopped, lips still tantalisingly close to his.
“So...” Spain said lowly, his breath tickling Romano's tingling skin. “Like that?”
Romano paused and stared over to the side before speaking. “No, you dipshit,” he replied. “Like this.”
And it hadn't been what he had been planning to do at all, pulling his other wrist free and pushing Spain down and kissing him instead of launching himself out of the room in embarrassment, but Spain responded so gently, letting Romano lead and holding his hips, sliding over his skin and brushing his spine and he couldn't help it. Couldn't quite help sliding his tongue into Spain's mouth and being surprised at himself, a bold tease as he tested and loosened up and wouldn't really mind if he had been here for hours, enticing soft sounds from Spain and almost himself, until an abrupt stop and - silence. Shit.
“Heh, Roma,” Spain said at last, smiling like he always did, and Romano relaxed. “kissing Boss like that! That's not very professional of you.”
“Stop saying that, you haven't been boss of shit for decades, never mind me,” he huffed, poking Spain hard in the forehead. “And what the hell, what am I meant to be 'professional' about? Stop being stupid. Or don't. Since your life would cease to have meaning.”
Not immediately answering this tirade of rather poor insults, Spain sat up (Romano slipped down onto his lap with a flinch of surprise), touching their foreheads together and looking at Romano through his eyelashes. His cheeks were flushed, too. “... Did you want to?”
“No, I just like jamming my tongue into other people's mouths because I think it's a fucking hilarious way to pass the damn time.”
“Ah!” Spain laughed, his face lighting up in a way that made Romano's lips twitch for some reason. “So you were planning on getting me in my sleep? Sneaky.”
Romano rolled his eyes, then looked down, staring and reminding himself that fucking hell, that had just happened and now they were - and Spain was just acting like always. His pessimism couldn't quite dredge up a reason for that, either. “Dammit, I- I just wanted to. Because I didn't think you'd want to and it's really fucking weird but I couldn't help it, you know, because I couldn't sleep and you're... stupid... and warm...”
Trailing off pathetically, Romano kept his eyes down and dug his nails into his palms because well shit, if he hadn't done it already he'd done it now. The silence dragged on. He was the worst person at explaining shit ever; his mind thought of better things to say right after he'd stuck his foot in it and he just fucked up like he usually did because he couldn't just be good at something. Not that it would have helped even if he was.
And he was pulled into a tight hug, Spain's nose pressed into the side of his neck, their skin flush together, and Romano told himself that it was just too much effort to punch him. “You would be so cute if you were always honest like this,” Spain started. “But I think it's better when you do it like this! It's more special, right?”
There was another pause, and Romano seriously considered cracking Spain about the head for being such... for being himself, probably. His heart was still beating hard, an anxious drumming which he was pretty sure Spain could feel, they were so close.
But he didn't mention it. “You could have said something,” Spain said, suddenly serious, sitting up and tipping Romano into his lap with him, putting them at eye-level. Romano felt his face burn, and he glanced away almost immediately. “Ah, see, you do things like that and it's really adorable but - I can't read your mind, Romano.”
“Try harder then, idiot.”
Spain's face broke into a smile and he laughed, and Romano probably would have smiled back if the world wouldn't implode upon his doing so (smiling was fucking hard, okay).
“Okay, okay, I got it. But can we sleep on it first? I can read Romano's mind better if I sleep first...”
He snorted, because Spain was fucking weird, but then nodded. “... Yeah, okay.”
But Romano stayed a certain distance away from Spain, not really sure what the hell he was meant to do now (surely you got a manual for this). Instead, he stared at the silhouette the streetlights created next to him, his muscles tense.
“I get a hug too, right?” Spain said into the darkness. “Because I really want one.”
“No. Isn't it obvious I hate you?” But he rolled over and tugged Spain closer anyway. He almost smiled.
“Of course it is!”
(And thus, nothing was solved, except Romano slept a lot better than usual.)