Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
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With a start, Spain drew his hand back and stared at the younger Italian in disbelief. “Eh?”
“You heard me,” Italy snarled, giving him a squinty-eyed glare as he tried to lean his chin against his hand with little success. “Keep your perverted hands off him.”
By now Germany had raised his head from the desk and he looked at the usually cheerful Latino as well. Italy caught his eye and glared even harder. “I hate Germany!”
Both Germany and Spain had their mouths agape.
“W-what are you saying, Ita-chan?” Spain tried, baffled by the sudden change in attitude. Apparently the blow had been too much for Germany, because he had a distant look in his eyes, hand reaching out for the beer the bartender had been kind enough to bring for him.
“He's all work and no play!” The Italian pouted, maybe trying to look intimidatingly pissed off but failing in his attempts when the blush on his face made him cute if anything. “N-not that I'd like to spend more time with or anything.”
Spain leaned closer to Germany, not looking away from the Italian for one second, thinking that something bad would happen if he did so. “He's kinda acting like Lovino, don't you think?”
“He hates me...” the blond muttered, teeth gnawing on the brim of his glass. Spain was about to comfort the other with tall tales how that wasn't true at all, but Romano decided to hoist himself from the bar counter at that same moment.
“Antonio,” he cooed, a disturbing smile on his face as he spread his arms wide. “Hug! Gimme a hug, dammit!”
And even in all his confusedness, Spain did as he was told, because who was he to hold back hugs that others demanded. “Buhyooo~” Germany raised his brows in wonder at the sound that didn't match any reasonable logic. “So cute! Lovi is being so cute!!”
“Hey! I said keep your hands off him!” Italy demanded and struggled to stand up from his chair and probably tried to smack Spain in the head, but he missed his target and stumbled on the floor instead. “Ludwig~” he whined, tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes as he rubbed his hurt nose.
Germany stood up from his chair in no time, kneeling down to help the other nation up, ignoring and being ignored by the two Latins that were all over each other by now, rubbing cheeks together and emitting little hearts enough to fill the whole bar with them and make anyone witnessing the sight feel like vomiting rainbows.
Italy looked grateful for his help for a moment, but that seemed to change as soon as he realized just who it was helping him. And although his blush deepened once his eyes met with Germany's he still managed to snarl a “I didn't need your help.”
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AAA
AAAAAAAAA I THOUGHT NO ONE WOULD FILL THI
Omg anon I love this so far aaaa ;A; ♥♥ Thank you so much for taking the time to write this, I can't wait for more aaa~!
AAAA THANK YOU~!!
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And that's why nobody REALLY ships Spain/N. Italy, huh. I am loving this fill so far - just the right amount of funny and cute and crack &hearts
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More soon, I hope?
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“What the hell are you doing, stupid little brother?” Romano asked, not about to run out of cusses and insults even with his personality completely changed. Italy scowled and aimed another thwack at the back of Spain's head when the first one went unnoticed, the man too thickheaded and occupied keeping Romano close to pay attention.
“Cosa sto facendo...” Italy started, looking scandalized if anything when Spain's hands started to travel too far south on Romano's back. “What are you doing, brother!? Don't let him touch you like that!”
“Why not?” Romano asked, tilting his head and looking confused. Italy would have went and pried his brother off the Spaniard right at that moment, but from the crook of Romano's neck Spain gave him a look that could either be taken as an invitation to join in or to back the fuck away.
“Germany,” he whined like a puppy, looking like one too. “Do something about them!”
The man stared, thinking if his evening at the bar could get anymore difficult than it had the moment Romano had invited himself to join them. The more time he took pondering over this the more Italy's lower lip started to quiver and tears of frustration gather at the corner of his eyes and soon enough Germany noted that Italy had done well in observing his dogs beg for treats.
With a more dramatic sigh than he would have allowed himself to let out, Germany reached out, taking a hold of the back of Romano's collar and hoisted him off the now very much unpleased man.
“What the hell!?” Spain protested, trying to reach out for his part of Italy in vain. The buff German settled the goofily smiling older Italian next to his brother, who returned the smile with a glare.
“Just observe them,” came the order, and Spain did so, still displeased at having his cuddle time with Romano cut short. Italy kept talking in rapid Italian, an uncharacteristic frown on his face, grabbing a hold of Romano's chin and forcing him to face him the moment his brother got distracted and turned to smile at Spain.
“They're so cute,” Spain said with a dreamy sigh, leaning back against the counter.
“They're not themselves,” Germany corrected sternly. “They're drunk and going through some weird Italian phase for all we know and do you know,” the German had to snap his fingers in front of Spain's face to get the man from ogling and pay some god damn attention, “what you are doing right now is called?”
The Spaniard blinked, looking at the man carefully as if that would provide him the correct answer. “Opportunism..?”
“Abuse!” It worried him, really did, that age didn't seem to bring wisdom of any sort, but rather built up the worst kind of perversity. “I won't let you take advantage of him,” Germany paused, considering how Spain's eyes hardly stayed on one body and how he was always so eager to speak of Italy in plural, “advantage of them.”
“I would never-!” Came the scandalized protest from Spain, eyes worried as he turned to look at Romano. “Hey! Romano wants a hug, right,” he pleaded, arms spread wide in an invitation. “I'll give Romano as many hugs as he wants so it's okay, right?”
There was a delighted cheer and an attempt to take up on that offer, but Romano was stopped on his way to Spain by other pair of strong arms that lifted him into the air. “I think it's time we left,”Germany said, hoisting the older Italian over his shoulder in a manner that only previous experience in handling Italians would allow.
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“Eh, but I-” he tried but was stopped by the sight of big watery eyes staring at him. Accusing him.
“You like him more than you like me!”
Germany gaped, then blushed, then let out an exhausted groan. “Look,” he started as if this had been under discussion several times in the past. “You know that's not true.”
The fists on his stomach stopped pounding, but the ones drooping behind his back picked up where Italy had left off. “Germany doesn't like me?” he could hear Romano gasp, the tone of his voice promising that there were tears in his eyes.
“You're the one who doesn't like me,” Germany said in his defense, shifting the nation on his shoulder in his discomfort of being double pressured by two Italians.
“That doesn't mean I want to be disliked back!” Yes, of course. How could he have missed that.
“Hey, Italy looks really upset,” Spain spoke from beside him suddenly, pointing at the fuming man that kept glaring at Germany and his brother's ass. “You know,” the tanned nation continued, a sly grin growing on his lips as he leaned in closer to Germany's ear to whisper without being heard by their two companions. “I find that if you want to draw out a more agreeable attitude you should~”
The list whispered wasn't that long or hard to perform, but it sure as hell was embarrassing and if Germany had previously thought he had not wanted to know about his brother's escapades from this man's mouth, then he found he wanted to know Italy's brother's even less. He doubted he could look Romano straight in the eyes again.
“I'll be taking this, then,” Spain said after he drew away from the now disturbed German, taking Romano away from him in his moment of weakness. “¡Adiós!” And they were gone, leaving Germany alone with Italy who had been witnessing the sight of the German having his brother slung over his shoulder in such a caveman manner and a hot Spaniard whispering dirty things in his ear.
And mein Gott did Italy look pissed.
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