Reaction Time [4/5]
anonymous
February 15 2010, 07:47:25 UTC
"How the hell are you doing that?"
"Hm?" Okay, when Spain stops and turns to look at him curiously, Romano has to admit that he's not exactly as clean as he thought. Even if a lot of the tomato has magically disappeared, his hair is a mess, goggles perched untidily on top of his head, and he still has a bit of tomato juice dripping down his face.
Romano presses his lips into a thin line. "You missed a spot," he mumbles, tilting his head forward in a way that looks like he's about to go in for a kiss. What he does, though, is lick his thumb and gently reach out to wipe at the corner of the other's mouth, where the droplet of juice has just stalled. Spain's eyes go comically wide considering the circumstances, and his cheeks turn pink. It's a lot more endearing than it should be.
Coughing, Romano turns away and starts walking again, feeling his own cheeks heat up. It takes a second for Spain to get going again himself, but when he does, all he does is encircle Romano's wrist again to make sure he stays close.
V.
The fifth time is on a day that is, otherwise, as normal as can be. The only unusual thing about it is that Spain is at Romano's house instead of the other way around, but the two of them aren't doing anything special. Even though they're not at his house, Spain is still the one who's cooking, with Romano watching from somewhere over his shoulder and making comments.
Spain's used to Romano's remarks, and he's well aware that he's not exactly a master of Italian cuisine, so he takes everything his critic says with a grain of salt. He smiles and follows most of the suggestions without question, and there's no doubt in his mind that this meal is going to turn out spectacularly. Romano will make faces and say that something doesn't taste right, that it's not authentic enough or something (ignoring that the chef had the guidance of half the nation of Italy while cooking), but he'll eat all of it and enjoy it.
Derisive as Romano is being, he secretly likes watching Spain in action. He's concentrated in a way that he doesn't see from him too often anymore, and he follows what Romano considers to be the most important rule of cooking: he puts sincere love and care into what he's doing. It's not surprising in the least, as Spain rarely does anything halfway, but it's still nice. He's humming cheerfully as he bustles around the kitchen (Romano tries not to hum along), until he picks up a tomato and looks at it thoughtfully.
He grins, then presses a kiss to it. "Un besito para señorita tomate," he sings, earning an eye roll from Romano. He turns to tell him how dumb he's being, but he doesn't have a chance to get any of the words out. Spain says, "Y un besito para mi tomate!" and leans in to kiss Romano's cheek. They move at the same time, and instead of landing on his cheek, Spain's lips land on Romano's.
Both of them freeze. To anyone looking in from the outside, the two of them must look ridiculous, their lips touching but neither of them wanting to be the first to do anything. It isn't as though this is the first time they've kissed - Spain has stolen chaste kisses before, and Romano has kissed Spain once or twice on special occasions (albeit red-faced and grumbling about how "this means nothing, don't get excited!") - but this feels different, somehow. Romano knows that he should pull away right now and either act like nothing happened or get angry, but rather than looking like he wants to pull away himself, Spain looks like he's…waiting for permission.
The thought makes Romano's brain break a little bit, and before it can catch up, his body decides to grant Spain permission for him. It shocks them both that he's the one who closes his eyes hesitantly and makes the move, but Spain isn't going to let himself lag behind. The next thing he knows, Spain's arm is around his waist in an almost possessive manner, pulling him closer and encouraging him to deepen the kiss.
Just as Romano works up the courage to do so, however, Spain pulls back.
"Hm?" Okay, when Spain stops and turns to look at him curiously, Romano has to admit that he's not exactly as clean as he thought. Even if a lot of the tomato has magically disappeared, his hair is a mess, goggles perched untidily on top of his head, and he still has a bit of tomato juice dripping down his face.
Romano presses his lips into a thin line. "You missed a spot," he mumbles, tilting his head forward in a way that looks like he's about to go in for a kiss. What he does, though, is lick his thumb and gently reach out to wipe at the corner of the other's mouth, where the droplet of juice has just stalled. Spain's eyes go comically wide considering the circumstances, and his cheeks turn pink. It's a lot more endearing than it should be.
Coughing, Romano turns away and starts walking again, feeling his own cheeks heat up. It takes a second for Spain to get going again himself, but when he does, all he does is encircle Romano's wrist again to make sure he stays close.
V.
The fifth time is on a day that is, otherwise, as normal as can be. The only unusual thing about it is that Spain is at Romano's house instead of the other way around, but the two of them aren't doing anything special. Even though they're not at his house, Spain is still the one who's cooking, with Romano watching from somewhere over his shoulder and making comments.
Spain's used to Romano's remarks, and he's well aware that he's not exactly a master of Italian cuisine, so he takes everything his critic says with a grain of salt. He smiles and follows most of the suggestions without question, and there's no doubt in his mind that this meal is going to turn out spectacularly. Romano will make faces and say that something doesn't taste right, that it's not authentic enough or something (ignoring that the chef had the guidance of half the nation of Italy while cooking), but he'll eat all of it and enjoy it.
Derisive as Romano is being, he secretly likes watching Spain in action. He's concentrated in a way that he doesn't see from him too often anymore, and he follows what Romano considers to be the most important rule of cooking: he puts sincere love and care into what he's doing. It's not surprising in the least, as Spain rarely does anything halfway, but it's still nice. He's humming cheerfully as he bustles around the kitchen (Romano tries not to hum along), until he picks up a tomato and looks at it thoughtfully.
He grins, then presses a kiss to it. "Un besito para señorita tomate," he sings, earning an eye roll from Romano. He turns to tell him how dumb he's being, but he doesn't have a chance to get any of the words out. Spain says, "Y un besito para mi tomate!" and leans in to kiss Romano's cheek. They move at the same time, and instead of landing on his cheek, Spain's lips land on Romano's.
Both of them freeze. To anyone looking in from the outside, the two of them must look ridiculous, their lips touching but neither of them wanting to be the first to do anything. It isn't as though this is the first time they've kissed - Spain has stolen chaste kisses before, and Romano has kissed Spain once or twice on special occasions (albeit red-faced and grumbling about how "this means nothing, don't get excited!") - but this feels different, somehow. Romano knows that he should pull away right now and either act like nothing happened or get angry, but rather than looking like he wants to pull away himself, Spain looks like he's…waiting for permission.
The thought makes Romano's brain break a little bit, and before it can catch up, his body decides to grant Spain permission for him. It shocks them both that he's the one who closes his eyes hesitantly and makes the move, but Spain isn't going to let himself lag behind. The next thing he knows, Spain's arm is around his waist in an almost possessive manner, pulling him closer and encouraging him to deepen the kiss.
Just as Romano works up the courage to do so, however, Spain pulls back.
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