Definitely Memory Loss [8/?]
anonymous
February 26 2010, 06:33:52 UTC
The doctors had left twenty minutes ago… Romano was starting to worry about Spain. Surely he couldn’t have hurt himself so badly jumping under the bed that he’d lost consciousness. He was aggravating, yes, and stupid. But not that stupid.
Wait.
Where was that rustling coming from?
Romano would later swear that the noise he made was a manly grunt of surprise, and not the high pitched squeal of terror produced only by awkward teenage boys whose little sisters have saved over every ‘Call of Duty’ slot in the Wii, in order to make room for ‘My Ballet Studio.’ Spain didn’t notice the noise, so there was no one to challenge Romano’s claim, except for every other person with functional hearing within a two kilometer radius of the hospital.
“Did you know how hard it is to get pants off and tights on when you’re trapped underneath a bed?”
“Never. Do that. Again.”
“What was that, Romano?”
By this point, the slight shock Romano had felt when Spain had jumped up beside him had faded enough so that Romano could process the other country’s appearance.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Spain pointed to himself. “Me? This is my plan part two! These are the clothes I used to wear back when you lived with me. Do you remem-” Romano knew the drill by now.
“No. But why are there so many tears and… and is that blood?”
“Well, yeah… but the 1500s were a really messy time, you know that. This outfit went all over the world with me… I’m really glad I gave it to Veneziano to patch up a few years ago. Otherwise plan two would have been a total failure.”
Romano stopped himself from saying it was already a failure, much like Spain’s tights and floofy little pants and oh God, were those ruffles? “That…thing is from the 1500s? You mean, you had something commissioned to look like the clothes you used to wear?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that when the originals still fit?”
“You idiot. That should be in a museum then, or something. Not being worn in a hospital.” Romano peered at the bloodstains. “And who knows what sort of diseases it’s got all over it. Probably from you.”
“You can be really strange sometimes, Romano. Boss’s uniform really didn’t work? Well…” Spain rummaged around in the bag at his feet. “Then how about this!”
Something small, soft and green was shoved into Romano’s face. Luckily Spain missed his forehead, which was still quite tender. Romano wasn’t just in the hospital because he’d forgotten a bunch a freaks. Sheesh.
Definitely Memory Loss [9/?]
anonymous
February 26 2010, 06:41:46 UTC
Romano held the small little dress made of pale green fabric. It was spotless, unlike Spain’s roughed up attire, and even had tiny little embroidered detailing around the hem. Only those little flowers made of thread showed any aging at all. It was a pretty little thing, but Romano couldn’t help but dislike it. He didn’t know why; maybe it was something to do with his memories.
Spain pressed something else into Romano’s hands. “Here, Romano. This goes with it. There’s supposed to be a headscarf, too, but Veneziano couldn’t find it. It must have been misplaced over the years.” Spain stepped back, and proudly surveyed the half-country on the bed. He really looked like something was supposed to happen now.
“A little girl’s dress and apron? How are these supposed to be important to me? Do I have a sister you didn’t tell me about? A daughter?”
A flash of something crossed Spain’s face. “No, you don’t have a sister. And no children that I’m aware of, although after you left me, you didn’t visit for a really long time. So I suppose it’s possible. But…no. You don’t have a daughter.”
“Then who does this belong to?”
Spain brightened. So did the room (really, what was up with those lights?). “It’s yours!”
What.
“Only… I think this one actually belonged to your brother, because it’s got all that cute extra embroidery. And now that I think about it, I think I remember you setting fire to your dress back when you had your first growth spurt and didn’t have to wear it anymore. But it was basically the same. Isn’t it cute?”
“I used to wear dresses?”
“All the time, at my house.”
“So you made me wear dresses, when I was a kid.”
“…yes?”
“And I liked wearing them?”
“I wouldn’t use a word like ‘like’, exactly, but you wore them all the time, Romano. It was really, really cute to watch. And your brother wore one too, the one that you’re holding right now!”
Maybe he had hit himself on the head on purpose. Just to get amnesia and forget these morons. “What’s wrong with you? We’re not the same person. I don't remember anything, and even I can figure that out. God, I bet I have a shitload of complexes, all from you. How good do you think the shrinks are around here?”
“…Romano?”
“Take the costumes away and get out.”
“But-“
“Out.”
“But my clothes are-“
“Out”
Looking like a kicked puppy, or like a really dejected country who had just had one of his better ideas shot down and ridiculed by his most special friend, Spain slunk out of the room. Romano could tell the other country had really left by following the progression of dimmed, flickering hallway lights with his eyes. Weird.
After Spain had left, Romano threw the dress away from his bed. Stupid. These were probably supposed to be in a museum too, just like Spain’s outfit.
Which he had left the room still wearing.
...Were those jeans under the spare bed?
I think the other fill I’m doing is corrupting the tone of this story. But it has to get a little bit angsty before it can get a lot bit fuzzy. So. I promise more laughs will come!
Anon, you have no idea how excited I am every time I see this fic updated. D: I AM REALLY EXCITED RIGHT NOW. The dark tone doesn't ruin it at all for me. AT ALL.
Spain. SO. ADORABLE. I swear to god, Spain is the cutest character EVER. I hope he goes through a bit more hell for the sake of returning Romano's memories so that when he DOES remember, he'll have to make it up to Spaaaain <3
ROCK ON ANON. BECAUSE SHITTTT I love this fic to bits I could eat it and swallow it whole and kiss it and tuck it into bed and tell it nursery rhymes D:
Re: Definitely Memory Loss [9/?]
anonymous
February 26 2010, 10:55:05 UTC
Spain brightened. So did the room (really, what was up with those lights?).
Oh, Spain. You might just be the cutest thing in existence.
Romano is being a bit mean in this part, isn't it? But then again, I'd probably be a bit angry at his place too - the people around him haven't been exactly helpful.
Re: Definitely Memory Loss [9/?]
anonymous
February 26 2010, 17:34:17 UTC
Maybe he had hit himself on the head on purpose. Just to get amnesia and forget these morons. “What’s wrong with you? We’re not the same person. I don't remember anything, and even I can figure that out. God, I bet I have a shitload of complexes, all from you. How good do you think the shrinks are around here?” God, I'm loving Romano's inner monologue. And this dialogue is kind of brilliant; it's typically rude and blunt, but strangely ... honest, I guess? Romano is just so very .. the word "素直" comes to mind, but I don't know how to translate it. In this case, I mean "honest with AND about himself". Shocking!
Hm, care to share what that other fill is, though? I'm curious now! :D?
Author here
anonymous
February 27 2010, 01:38:44 UTC
Thanks! I've been trying to make sure that I write amnesiac!Romano and not just plain!Romano. A big difference between the two, I think, is a lack of some mind-to-mouth filters in the former. Whereas the latter would subconsciously feel the need to be defensive/cruel, amnesiac!Romano just reponds with his real emotions. For the most part. And Google Translate tells me that "素直" translates to 'straightforward', which sounds about right. Very shocking.
Weeeeeellll, I'll give you some clues: It's got all the characters and pairings that have appeared in this fill (plus 10 or so) and it's a really freaking long AU.
Re: Author here
anonymous
February 27 2010, 13:19:46 UTC
Weeeeeellll, I'll give you some clues: It's got all the characters and pairings that have appeared in this fill (plus 10 or so) and it's a really freaking long AU.
It's like a porn scavenger hunt! ♥ Actually, I think it's in my bookmarks! Perhaps! XD
OP still loves you.
anonymous
February 27 2010, 08:33:07 UTC
By a lot. THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST THINGS TO GET ONTO THE COMPUTER FOR. YOU ARE AMAZING.
That’s it, he had decided. Spain’s default mode wasn’t ‘hopeful’ and it wasn’t ‘confused’ either: it was just plain stupid.
I read this line and it brightened up my day like woah. :'D Oh, Spain. And the dress? SO CUTE. I like the shift from hilarious to saddening to what you say I can expect to be fuzzy. ;D OP IS EXCITED, ANON. AND SHE LOVES YOU.
Definitely Memory Loss [10/?]
anonymous
February 27 2010, 22:21:39 UTC
Romano spent the better part of the next hour flipping through the channels on the TV in the corner of his room. So far, it had been working fairly well as a distraction technique.
“…In other news, the rain in Spain has been falling heavily everywhere for the past eighteen hours. Authorities are calling it a national emergency. We go now to our correspondent in Madrid…”
The injured nation carefully turned off the television, and carefully threw the remote in the direction of the spare bed. This was not his fault. So what if Spain was overly emotional? If he really was a whole country, he’d get over it.
When the door opened ten minutes later, Romano was still sulking. Germany tried to walk straight out of the room again, but was caught up in the momentum of the Italy rushing through the door behind him. A stranger followed sedately after the two, and a strangely quiet Spain brought up the rear of the party. At least he’d found some normal clothes somewhere.
“Ve, brother, how was your night? Did you get enough sleep?”
Romano carefully refrained from looking at Spain. “No.”
Germany cut off the rest of Veneziano’s questions with one of his own. “Do you still not remember who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Ve, then we’ve got a solution!” Veneziano skipped over to the man standing quietly next to the door. “Do you remember Japan? (”No.”) We called him last night because he’s really good at these sorts of things. Well, Germany did most of the talking, but he let me dial the number. Japan can help you and then we can all go back home!”
The man, no, the country bowed. “It is troubling to hear what has happened to you, Romano-san.”
There was silence. Was he supposed to be responding now?
Eventually, Germany cleared his throat, awkwardly, and spoke. Germany did not tolerate ambient awkwardness well, because of his already high inner levels of it. “Japan. Please start with… whatever it is that you’re going to do.” There. That hadn’t been so hard.
Japan nodded and moved closer to Romano’s bed. As the rest of the countries watched, he opened the drawer of the nightstand and removed two surgical gloves and a stethoscope. He put on the left glove, the right glove and then finally looped the stethoscope around his neck.
“Romano-san, could you please tell me about your childhood?”
“…I don’t remember anything before I woke up in this hospital. So no, I can’t.”
Japan nodded. “I see…”
There was silence again. Was that… really it?
“Germany-san, Veneziano-san, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”
Spain stood up as the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. “But Japan, you haven’t even tried anything yet.” He looked morally affronted. “How can you give up now?”
Japan fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck, and bowed his head. “I am extremely sorry, Spain-san, but in my experience, this is the only way to proceed. Background research indicates that if the patient does not have childhood trauma to work from, then it is a matter of pre-existing love entanglements. It is in my best interests to pick another target.”
Romano was confused. So was everyone else in the room, except for Germany, because Germany was the sort of pervert who liked those games too. Not that he’d ever let anyone know.
“Veneziano. Why did you insist that we call Japan for help?”
“Ve, Germany, isn’t it obvious? It’s Japan! I hear him talking about weird medicine-y things all the time.”
The polite nation nodded. “Yes, it is true. I’ve played Trauma Center six times.”
Definitely Memory Loss [11/?]
anonymous
February 27 2010, 22:25:46 UTC
Germany began to feel very, very tired. Veneziano had a radar in his head for that sort of thing, and so made the immediate suggestion that “Ve! We should all go home and have a siesta and then some pasta and then we can come back later and maybe Romano will be all better then!”
Frankly, it was the best idea so far.
“Wait.” It was Japan. He walked around to Romano’s side, looking as forceful and as serious as Death. “Sometimes, the brain is like a remote.”
“Ve, because it can turn on?”
“Because both have a basis in electronic systems?”
“I don’t understand…” Romano agreed with Spain. Not that he’d ever let the other know that.
Japan fervently shook his head. “No, everyone. The brain is like a remote in that sometimes you just have to hit it for a little while to get it to work again.”
Wait a second…
SMACK!
“Japan!” “How dare you…!” ”VE JAPAN JUST KILLED BIG BROTHER AGAIN BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE ITALY ALL BY MYSELF!”
Ow.
Ow.
For such a small looking nation, Japan could hit really hard. “Goddamnit, what the fuck was that for?”
The four other countries were now looking at Romano with very calculating expressions. Again, Germany was the one to break the silence. “Romano… how do you feel?”
“Angry.” The others were still looking at him strangely… and when Romano spotted the hopeful look’s reappearance on Spain’s face, he realized why. “Angry and memoryless.”
“Ve, drat.”
While Germany and Veneziano went on ahead towards the elevators, Japan motioned Spain over to a corner of the waiting room. “Please, Spain-san, sit.”
And so he sat, in the chair the three had found him sitting in when they’d arrived at the hospital. It was a very comfortable chair, and it gave Spain a tiny view of Romano’s door. Just in case. Japan took a seat in a chair opposite to Spain’s. This chair was as comfortable as it looked, which was not very. Strange. It was exactly the same as Spain’s…
“Ahem. Spain-san. Do I understand correctly that you spent the night at the hospital?”
Spain blushed. “Who told you? I know I wasn’t supposed to, but…”
Japan shook his head. “No one told me anything, Spain-san. I could just tell. I’m an expert at these things, you know.”
“Does this have to do with your video games again?”
This time, it was Japan who blushed. “Never mind that, Spain-san. What matters is that I have a little bit of extra advice, just for you.”
“I thought you said there was nothing else you could do?”
“That’s true. But there are several things I think you might be able to try. First, what have you already done to try and return Romano’s memories?”
Spain didn’t hesitate. He told Japan about his failures with the history books and the old clothing. “I tried to make Romano remember the past by showing it to him, but that didn’t work!”
“Spain-san, maybe you should try showing Romano-san the more recent past.”
“Recent past…?”
“Yes. We’ve all had troubling lives. Perhaps Romano-san is none too keen to relive his.” With that, Japan stood up. “Don’t give up. I am rooting for you, Spain-san. If you keep trying, I am certain you will be able to unlock the good++ ending.”
“Yeah…”
Japan paused before walking towards the elevators. With the stethoscope still around his neck and wearing the coat that belonged to some hapless UNSICK surgeon, he almost looked like a real doctor.
“Ah, one last thing, Spain-san. If that suggestion doesn’t work out, there’s one last thing you might want to try…”
Exceedingly Happy :)
anonymous
February 28 2010, 04:38:03 UTC
You know, every time I see someone comment about giving their heart away, I get reminded of the last few lines of the Stephen Crane poem, "In the Desert." ("But I like it/Because it is bitter,/And because it is my heart.") I'm not quite sure why, since the gesture and the poem are totally different. But I felt the intense need to tell you this.
So.
Anyway, the end is nigh! As soon as my hockey is over.
Definitely Memory Loss [12/?]
anonymous
February 28 2010, 01:43:26 UTC
When the hospital room lights turned on, Romano correctly guessed that Spain had returned. He wondered what Spain was going to try next; he was persistent, Romano would give him that. But all this interference between the injured nation and his sleeping time was something that would have to stop.
“Romano.”
“Yeah?”
In two strides, Spain was standing next to the occupied bed. He shoved something towards Romano’s face and started babbling. “I’m sorry in advance that I went through your things again, and I’m sorry that it took so long to find, you really should keep all your books on a shelf and not in a box in the back of your closet, but please look at this.”
He ignored the admission of the invasion of his privacy, again. Romano also ignored how close Spain was standing to him. Because, damn it all, “Don’t tell me this is mine.”
“But it is!”
Romano inspected the scrapbook in his hands. The pages were ragged, and it wasn’t very neat, but still, a scrapbook? What kind of man was he? Did he also have a diary that Spain just hadn’t been able to find yet?
Spain tensed as Romano opened the cover of the book. “I promise I didn’t go through it or read anything, Romano. It doesn’t look so old, so it’s probably from the past few decades. Maybe it can help you.”
Romano slowly paged through the book. There were plenty of pictures, and some notes scribbled in what he assumed to be his own handwriting. Apparently he collected phone numbers. Huh. Near the center of the book, he stumbled on several loose pages.
They were letters.
Dear Romano,
I hope you’ve been doing well! I was worried when you didn’t answer my last six letters, so I sent this one along with copies of all the rest to make sure that you got the messages. I know how frustrating it can be when mail gets lost. Maybe you should have a talk with your postal service…?
<3, Spain
Something was scribbled on the other side of Spain’s letter. It had never been sent.
Spain, you bastard,
Stop sending me letters. They’re stupid. And a waste of my time. If you want to talk to me so badly then you should just fucking come over and visit or something, damnit! just call. Although I hate the sound of your voice. A lot. Words cannot properly express how much I hate being around you and your freaky house. A HOUSE ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THAT CHEERFUL. Shit, this letter sucks. Stupid Spain, you made me write a shitty reply.
“I don’t sound like I like you all that much, do I?”
Spain peered over Romano’s shoulder to read the letters he was pointing to. “Ah, well… you can just get a little grumpy sometimes, Romano. I’m pretty sure you don’t mean it. Maybe you hadn’t had your siesta yet when you wrote that.”
Romano flipped through a few more letters. Most involved Spain writing about his day or his tomatoes or something trivial like that. The unsent replies were all standoffish and short, and filled with crossed out words that Romano couldn’t decipher. He wondered why he had kept it all.
It probably wasn’t important.
The next section of the scrapbook was filled with pictures. Pictures of Romano and Spain. It looked like they were all taken on vacations, as the backdrops were all sunny beaches or castles or other tourist spots. Every picture was different, except for certain things. The pictures had been taken at different angles and locations, and had different poses from the two subjects. And yet Spain was always smiling like it was the best moment of his life, and Romano was usually frowning and refusing to look at the camera.
“Let me guess, you wanted us to have our picture taken in all these places.”
“Exactly!” Despite the cheerful tone, Spain looked wary. So he could learn, afterall.
“And I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“I suppose that’s what you said, but I never thought you really meant it.”
Romano flipped through a few more of the pictures. There were the two countries in a crowded plaza. The next photograph barely had Romano in it at all; just the arm Spain was trying to drag into the frame.
Definitely Memory Loss [13/?]
anonymous
February 28 2010, 01:56:10 UTC
A wave of depression crashed over the room, filling every corner. It was suffocating, and probably the only reason why Romano was having a hard time breathing. Or maybe that was the guilt. At this point, Romano couldn’t really tell.
“I’m sorry I bothered you, Romano. I’m sorry that I’ve been bothering you all this time. I didn’t realize that’s what was going on, I promise! I’ll just go now.”
Romano would have jumped out of the bed and chased Spain down, very dramatically, but he had been lying down for too long, and that head injury was still making him feel a little funny. So instead he chose to yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get back here.”
Looking completely lost, the country complied with Romano’s order. “Look, maybe I was exaggerating a little. Maybe I don’t actually hate you.”
Spain still looked so hopeless that Romano was beginning to fear for the end of the world. “You don’t have to say those things just to be nice, Romano. I want you to get your memories back, but I never considered that maybe you didn’t feel the same way. Or that maybe you just didn’t want your memories of me back.”
Why did this guy have to make things so complicated? “It’s not like that. Look, maybe you controlled the south parts of Italy, me, for hundreds of years. But I bet I didn’t hate you for that the entire time.”
That didn't work.
Spain’s shoulders were still hunched, and Romano was beginning to see his breath in the cold air of the room. “…Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Fine. Ugh, damnit, these letters, then. Look at the letters! If I really hated you, I probably wouldn’t keep all of this stuff that had to do with you. Unless I was keeping it out of spite, as a memento of my grudge against you. But that’s probably not why.”
That didn't work either.
Romano was beginning to get hysterical and he wasn’t even sure why. “Just… look at these pictures.” He pointed to the open book on his lap. “See? This one, where we’re on the beach... I’m almost smiling!” Romano took a second look. “Well, maybe not. Just ignore that picture. But the one on this page, that’s definitely sort of a smile.”
He probably should just stop. Each of his efforts to make Spain feel better looked like they were causing Spain physical harm. What else could he do?
"Fuck, Spain, if my memories and I are so important to you, then you shouldn’t be giving up so easily!"
Finally, finally, Spain smiled again. “You’re right, Romano. I won’t ever give up!”
“Well…good, then.” All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room became very awkward. Germany hadn’t come back, had he? While Romano looked around his room, just to make sure, Spain started edging in closer to his bed.
“Hey Romano?”
No Germany by the door. Romano turned to look by the television. It was weird, how could a room feel like this without some beacon of awkwardness standing around?
“I know you don’t remember anything about yourself… but do you remember the story called Snow White?”
That caught Romano’s attention. That and the fact that Spain was definitely in his personal space now. “Yeah… mmf!”
Definitely Memory Loss [14/?]
anonymous
February 28 2010, 07:51:54 UTC
Spain was kissing him. Maybe it was supposed to be gentle, and it was definitely supposed to be tender, but in reality, all Romano could feel through the kiss was Spain’s desperation.
And his tongue.
Romano stopped thinking for a while. He must not have done anything else, either, because when he opened his eyes (When did he close them?), Spain had stopped kissing him, and was staring at him expectantly. “Did it work?”
“…What?” He sounded dazed. This was… what was going on? “What are you doing?”
“Japan reminded me about the story earlier. He said True Love’s Kiss could fix anything! And if it didn’t work the first time, lots of True Love’s Kisses could fix even more things!”
“You… no. It didn’t work.” The words only made Spain look more determined, as though he was about to rush headlong into Part B of Japan’s suggestion. How was Romano supposed to react to something like that? “But… but how could you expect it to? You got the scenario all wrong!”
The other country seemed to take this into consideration. “I guess so, but it’s not like I could get the scenario perfectly; you’re in a bed and you’re almost lying down and you need to be cured, right? Which of the other parts of the story could I have gotten? You aren’t a princess, Romano…”
“You could have at least warned me, so I could pretend to be asleep or something.” Wait a minute, was he really going along with this?”
Spain had the same question. “You want to try it, Romano? For real?”
Romano couldn’t find any words, so he just put his head on his pillows, got comfortable on the little bed, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. He opened one eye. “Are you just going to stand there all day or what?”
Spain was still next to the bed, where he had been the entire time. “So that was a yes?”
The southern half of Italy sighed. “It’s not like it could hurt to try. What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, you’re not bad looking.”
The other country frowned. “Romano,” he chided, “that’s really shallow.” He might have said some other things about how Romano should have more qualifications for kissing people he didn’t remember, but before long, his mouth was otherwise occupied.
Definitely Memory Loss [15/?]
anonymous
February 28 2010, 07:54:58 UTC
After a few minutes of this, Romano’s mood had improved considerably, Spain had forgotten that he was supposed to be making Romano remember anything, and both countries had somehow managed to fit two fully grown bodies on a bed designed only for one.
Just as they were really getting into it, as Spain’s hands began to wander and Romano began to wonder whether he should be suggesting that his hospital gown would look better on the floor, something happened. Something other than heated making out, although that didn’t really stop.
As Spain returned his attentions to Romano’s mouth, from his slight interlude pressing butterfly kisses on the other’s neck, something began buzzing in Romano’s mind. If he had been wearing pants, something would have already been buzzing in those, but this was a different sort of feeling. As the country on top of him ground his hips down and began sucking on Romano’s lower lip, Romano felt ten thousand sensations. Not the least of which were the whispers in the back of his mind, and oh it was too good, and he was… he was-
THUMP
Goddamn fucking bedrails. Italy Romano clutched at his abused head and cursed the moron who had invented bedrails. Bastard was probably German.
Wait.
Well shit… he remembered. Everything. And now Spain had stopped kissing him and was looking at him with concern. “Romano… are you alright? I’m sorry, should we stop…?”
This could go several ways. Romano could let Spain know that he was alright now, and that everything was back to normal. But. But frankly, he didn’t want things to go back to normal. Normal Romano would never be caught dead or alive making out with Spain, especially when he was only wearing a flimsy paper gown. But amnesiac Romano… amnesiac Romano didn’t know any better. He could get away with a lot of things…
“The fuck are you doing, you idiot? Get back down here, it might start working soon. And this time, try running your hands through my hair…”
Spain complied.
In a house not too far away, the country of Japan was just starting a new save file in his old Trauma Center game. Now that Romano-san was in the hospital, the Asian nation would need to brush up on his medical skills. As the game loaded, Japan had a curious thought:
’Now was it one knock to the head, or two, that fixes amnesia?’
Wait.
Where was that rustling coming from?
Romano would later swear that the noise he made was a manly grunt of surprise, and not the high pitched squeal of terror produced only by awkward teenage boys whose little sisters have saved over every ‘Call of Duty’ slot in the Wii, in order to make room for ‘My Ballet Studio.’ Spain didn’t notice the noise, so there was no one to challenge Romano’s claim, except for every other person with functional hearing within a two kilometer radius of the hospital.
“Did you know how hard it is to get pants off and tights on when you’re trapped underneath a bed?”
“Never. Do that. Again.”
“What was that, Romano?”
By this point, the slight shock Romano had felt when Spain had jumped up beside him had faded enough so that Romano could process the other country’s appearance.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Spain pointed to himself. “Me? This is my plan part two! These are the clothes I used to wear back when you lived with me. Do you remem-” Romano knew the drill by now.
“No. But why are there so many tears and… and is that blood?”
“Well, yeah… but the 1500s were a really messy time, you know that. This outfit went all over the world with me… I’m really glad I gave it to Veneziano to patch up a few years ago. Otherwise plan two would have been a total failure.”
Romano stopped himself from saying it was already a failure, much like Spain’s tights and floofy little pants and oh God, were those ruffles? “That…thing is from the 1500s? You mean, you had something commissioned to look like the clothes you used to wear?”
“Of course not. Why would I do that when the originals still fit?”
“You idiot. That should be in a museum then, or something. Not being worn in a hospital.” Romano peered at the bloodstains. “And who knows what sort of diseases it’s got all over it. Probably from you.”
“You can be really strange sometimes, Romano. Boss’s uniform really didn’t work? Well…” Spain rummaged around in the bag at his feet. “Then how about this!”
Something small, soft and green was shoved into Romano’s face. Luckily Spain missed his forehead, which was still quite tender. Romano wasn’t just in the hospital because he’d forgotten a bunch a freaks. Sheesh.
“Is that a dress?”
It was.
Reply
Spain pressed something else into Romano’s hands. “Here, Romano. This goes with it. There’s supposed to be a headscarf, too, but Veneziano couldn’t find it. It must have been misplaced over the years.” Spain stepped back, and proudly surveyed the half-country on the bed. He really looked like something was supposed to happen now.
“A little girl’s dress and apron? How are these supposed to be important to me? Do I have a sister you didn’t tell me about? A daughter?”
A flash of something crossed Spain’s face. “No, you don’t have a sister. And no children that I’m aware of, although after you left me, you didn’t visit for a really long time. So I suppose it’s possible. But…no. You don’t have a daughter.”
“Then who does this belong to?”
Spain brightened. So did the room (really, what was up with those lights?). “It’s yours!”
What.
“Only… I think this one actually belonged to your brother, because it’s got all that cute extra embroidery. And now that I think about it, I think I remember you setting fire to your dress back when you had your first growth spurt and didn’t have to wear it anymore. But it was basically the same. Isn’t it cute?”
“I used to wear dresses?”
“All the time, at my house.”
“So you made me wear dresses, when I was a kid.”
“…yes?”
“And I liked wearing them?”
“I wouldn’t use a word like ‘like’, exactly, but you wore them all the time, Romano. It was really, really cute to watch. And your brother wore one too, the one that you’re holding right now!”
Maybe he had hit himself on the head on purpose. Just to get amnesia and forget these morons. “What’s wrong with you? We’re not the same person. I don't remember anything, and even I can figure that out. God, I bet I have a shitload of complexes, all from you. How good do you think the shrinks are around here?”
“…Romano?”
“Take the costumes away and get out.”
“But-“
“Out.”
“But my clothes are-“
“Out”
Looking like a kicked puppy, or like a really dejected country who had just had one of his better ideas shot down and ridiculed by his most special friend, Spain slunk out of the room. Romano could tell the other country had really left by following the progression of dimmed, flickering hallway lights with his eyes. Weird.
After Spain had left, Romano threw the dress away from his bed. Stupid. These were probably supposed to be in a museum too, just like Spain’s outfit.
Which he had left the room still wearing.
...Were those jeans under the spare bed?
I think the other fill I’m doing is corrupting the tone of this story. But it has to get a little bit angsty before it can get a lot bit fuzzy. So. I promise more laughs will come!
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Spain. SO. ADORABLE. I swear to god, Spain is the cutest character EVER. I hope he goes through a bit more hell for the sake of returning Romano's memories so that when he DOES remember, he'll have to make it up to Spaaaain <3
ROCK ON ANON. BECAUSE SHITTTT I love this fic to bits I could eat it and swallow it whole and kiss it and tuck it into bed and tell it nursery rhymes D:
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Oh, Spain. You might just be the cutest thing in existence.
Romano is being a bit mean in this part, isn't it? But then again, I'd probably be a bit angry at his place too - the people around him haven't been exactly helpful.
Can't wait for the fluff!
Captcha sez: 'but smart'. Uhmm.
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Hm, care to share what that other fill is, though? I'm curious now! :D?
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Weeeeeellll, I'll give you some clues: It's got all the characters and pairings that have appeared in this fill (plus 10 or so) and it's a really freaking long AU.
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It's like a porn scavenger hunt! ♥ Actually, I think it's in my bookmarks! Perhaps! XD
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That’s it, he had decided. Spain’s default mode wasn’t ‘hopeful’ and it wasn’t ‘confused’ either: it was just plain stupid.
I read this line and it brightened up my day like woah. :'D Oh, Spain. And the dress? SO CUTE. I like the shift from hilarious to saddening to what you say I can expect to be fuzzy. ;D OP IS EXCITED, ANON. AND SHE LOVES YOU.
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“…In other news, the rain in Spain has been falling heavily everywhere for the past eighteen hours. Authorities are calling it a national emergency. We go now to our correspondent in Madrid…”
The injured nation carefully turned off the television, and carefully threw the remote in the direction of the spare bed. This was not his fault. So what if Spain was overly emotional? If he really was a whole country, he’d get over it.
When the door opened ten minutes later, Romano was still sulking. Germany tried to walk straight out of the room again, but was caught up in the momentum of the Italy rushing through the door behind him. A stranger followed sedately after the two, and a strangely quiet Spain brought up the rear of the party. At least he’d found some normal clothes somewhere.
“Ve, brother, how was your night? Did you get enough sleep?”
Romano carefully refrained from looking at Spain. “No.”
Germany cut off the rest of Veneziano’s questions with one of his own. “Do you still not remember who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Ve, then we’ve got a solution!” Veneziano skipped over to the man standing quietly next to the door. “Do you remember Japan? (”No.”) We called him last night because he’s really good at these sorts of things. Well, Germany did most of the talking, but he let me dial the number. Japan can help you and then we can all go back home!”
The man, no, the country bowed. “It is troubling to hear what has happened to you, Romano-san.”
There was silence. Was he supposed to be responding now?
Eventually, Germany cleared his throat, awkwardly, and spoke. Germany did not tolerate ambient awkwardness well, because of his already high inner levels of it. “Japan. Please start with… whatever it is that you’re going to do.” There. That hadn’t been so hard.
Japan nodded and moved closer to Romano’s bed. As the rest of the countries watched, he opened the drawer of the nightstand and removed two surgical gloves and a stethoscope. He put on the left glove, the right glove and then finally looped the stethoscope around his neck.
“Romano-san, could you please tell me about your childhood?”
“…I don’t remember anything before I woke up in this hospital. So no, I can’t.”
Japan nodded. “I see…”
There was silence again. Was that… really it?
“Germany-san, Veneziano-san, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do.”
Spain stood up as the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. “But Japan, you haven’t even tried anything yet.” He looked morally affronted. “How can you give up now?”
Japan fiddled with the stethoscope around his neck, and bowed his head. “I am extremely sorry, Spain-san, but in my experience, this is the only way to proceed. Background research indicates that if the patient does not have childhood trauma to work from, then it is a matter of pre-existing love entanglements. It is in my best interests to pick another target.”
Romano was confused. So was everyone else in the room, except for Germany, because Germany was the sort of pervert who liked those games too. Not that he’d ever let anyone know.
“Veneziano. Why did you insist that we call Japan for help?”
“Ve, Germany, isn’t it obvious? It’s Japan! I hear him talking about weird medicine-y things all the time.”
The polite nation nodded. “Yes, it is true. I’ve played Trauma Center six times.”
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Frankly, it was the best idea so far.
“Wait.” It was Japan. He walked around to Romano’s side, looking as forceful and as serious as Death. “Sometimes, the brain is like a remote.”
“Ve, because it can turn on?”
“Because both have a basis in electronic systems?”
“I don’t understand…” Romano agreed with Spain. Not that he’d ever let the other know that.
Japan fervently shook his head. “No, everyone. The brain is like a remote in that sometimes you just have to hit it for a little while to get it to work again.”
Wait a second…
SMACK!
“Japan!” “How dare you…!” ”VE JAPAN JUST KILLED BIG BROTHER AGAIN BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE ITALY ALL BY MYSELF!”
Ow.
Ow.
For such a small looking nation, Japan could hit really hard. “Goddamnit, what the fuck was that for?”
The four other countries were now looking at Romano with very calculating expressions. Again, Germany was the one to break the silence. “Romano… how do you feel?”
“Angry.” The others were still looking at him strangely… and when Romano spotted the hopeful look’s reappearance on Spain’s face, he realized why. “Angry and memoryless.”
“Ve, drat.”
While Germany and Veneziano went on ahead towards the elevators, Japan motioned Spain over to a corner of the waiting room. “Please, Spain-san, sit.”
And so he sat, in the chair the three had found him sitting in when they’d arrived at the hospital. It was a very comfortable chair, and it gave Spain a tiny view of Romano’s door. Just in case. Japan took a seat in a chair opposite to Spain’s. This chair was as comfortable as it looked, which was not very. Strange. It was exactly the same as Spain’s…
“Ahem. Spain-san. Do I understand correctly that you spent the night at the hospital?”
Spain blushed. “Who told you? I know I wasn’t supposed to, but…”
Japan shook his head. “No one told me anything, Spain-san. I could just tell. I’m an expert at these things, you know.”
“Does this have to do with your video games again?”
This time, it was Japan who blushed. “Never mind that, Spain-san. What matters is that I have a little bit of extra advice, just for you.”
“I thought you said there was nothing else you could do?”
“That’s true. But there are several things I think you might be able to try. First, what have you already done to try and return Romano’s memories?”
Spain didn’t hesitate. He told Japan about his failures with the history books and the old clothing. “I tried to make Romano remember the past by showing it to him, but that didn’t work!”
“Spain-san, maybe you should try showing Romano-san the more recent past.”
“Recent past…?”
“Yes. We’ve all had troubling lives. Perhaps Romano-san is none too keen to relive his.” With that, Japan stood up. “Don’t give up. I am rooting for you, Spain-san. If you keep trying, I am certain you will be able to unlock the good++ ending.”
“Yeah…”
Japan paused before walking towards the elevators. With the stethoscope still around his neck and wearing the coat that belonged to some hapless UNSICK surgeon, he almost looked like a real doctor.
“Ah, one last thing, Spain-san. If that suggestion doesn’t work out, there’s one last thing you might want to try…”
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...I don't really have much else to say. Except that I love you?
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So.
Anyway, the end is nigh! As soon as my hockey is over.
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“Romano.”
“Yeah?”
In two strides, Spain was standing next to the occupied bed. He shoved something towards Romano’s face and started babbling. “I’m sorry in advance that I went through your things again, and I’m sorry that it took so long to find, you really should keep all your books on a shelf and not in a box in the back of your closet, but please look at this.”
He ignored the admission of the invasion of his privacy, again. Romano also ignored how close Spain was standing to him. Because, damn it all, “Don’t tell me this is mine.”
“But it is!”
Romano inspected the scrapbook in his hands. The pages were ragged, and it wasn’t very neat, but still, a scrapbook? What kind of man was he? Did he also have a diary that Spain just hadn’t been able to find yet?
Spain tensed as Romano opened the cover of the book. “I promise I didn’t go through it or read anything, Romano. It doesn’t look so old, so it’s probably from the past few decades. Maybe it can help you.”
Romano slowly paged through the book. There were plenty of pictures, and some notes scribbled in what he assumed to be his own handwriting. Apparently he collected phone numbers. Huh. Near the center of the book, he stumbled on several loose pages.
They were letters.
Dear Romano,
I hope you’ve been doing well! I was worried when you didn’t answer my last six letters, so I sent this one along with copies of all the rest to make sure that you got the messages. I know how frustrating it can be when mail gets lost. Maybe you should have a talk with your postal service…?
<3, Spain
Something was scribbled on the other side of Spain’s letter. It had never been sent.
Spain, you bastard,
Stop sending me letters. They’re stupid. And a waste of my time. If you want to talk to me so badly then you should just fucking come over and visit or something, damnit! just call. Although I hate the sound of your voice. A lot. Words cannot properly express how much I hate being around you and your freaky house. A HOUSE ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THAT CHEERFUL. Shit, this letter sucks. Stupid Spain, you made me write a shitty reply.
“I don’t sound like I like you all that much, do I?”
Spain peered over Romano’s shoulder to read the letters he was pointing to. “Ah, well… you can just get a little grumpy sometimes, Romano. I’m pretty sure you don’t mean it. Maybe you hadn’t had your siesta yet when you wrote that.”
Romano flipped through a few more letters. Most involved Spain writing about his day or his tomatoes or something trivial like that. The unsent replies were all standoffish and short, and filled with crossed out words that Romano couldn’t decipher. He wondered why he had kept it all.
It probably wasn’t important.
The next section of the scrapbook was filled with pictures. Pictures of Romano and Spain. It looked like they were all taken on vacations, as the backdrops were all sunny beaches or castles or other tourist spots. Every picture was different, except for certain things. The pictures had been taken at different angles and locations, and had different poses from the two subjects. And yet Spain was always smiling like it was the best moment of his life, and Romano was usually frowning and refusing to look at the camera.
“Let me guess, you wanted us to have our picture taken in all these places.”
“Exactly!” Despite the cheerful tone, Spain looked wary. So he could learn, afterall.
“And I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”
“I suppose that’s what you said, but I never thought you really meant it.”
Romano flipped through a few more of the pictures. There were the two countries in a crowded plaza. The next photograph barely had Romano in it at all; just the arm Spain was trying to drag into the frame.
“Hmm.”
With that dismissal, Spain finally lost his hope.
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“I’m sorry I bothered you, Romano. I’m sorry that I’ve been bothering you all this time. I didn’t realize that’s what was going on, I promise! I’ll just go now.”
Romano would have jumped out of the bed and chased Spain down, very dramatically, but he had been lying down for too long, and that head injury was still making him feel a little funny. So instead he chose to yell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get back here.”
Looking completely lost, the country complied with Romano’s order. “Look, maybe I was exaggerating a little. Maybe I don’t actually hate you.”
Spain still looked so hopeless that Romano was beginning to fear for the end of the world. “You don’t have to say those things just to be nice, Romano. I want you to get your memories back, but I never considered that maybe you didn’t feel the same way. Or that maybe you just didn’t want your memories of me back.”
Why did this guy have to make things so complicated? “It’s not like that. Look, maybe you controlled the south parts of Italy, me, for hundreds of years. But I bet I didn’t hate you for that the entire time.”
That didn't work.
Spain’s shoulders were still hunched, and Romano was beginning to see his breath in the cold air of the room. “…Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Fine. Ugh, damnit, these letters, then. Look at the letters! If I really hated you, I probably wouldn’t keep all of this stuff that had to do with you. Unless I was keeping it out of spite, as a memento of my grudge against you. But that’s probably not why.”
That didn't work either.
Romano was beginning to get hysterical and he wasn’t even sure why. “Just… look at these pictures.” He pointed to the open book on his lap. “See? This one, where we’re on the beach... I’m almost smiling!” Romano took a second look. “Well, maybe not. Just ignore that picture. But the one on this page, that’s definitely sort of a smile.”
He probably should just stop. Each of his efforts to make Spain feel better looked like they were causing Spain physical harm. What else could he do?
"Fuck, Spain, if my memories and I are so important to you, then you shouldn’t be giving up so easily!"
Finally, finally, Spain smiled again. “You’re right, Romano. I won’t ever give up!”
“Well…good, then.” All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room became very awkward. Germany hadn’t come back, had he? While Romano looked around his room, just to make sure, Spain started edging in closer to his bed.
“Hey Romano?”
No Germany by the door. Romano turned to look by the television. It was weird, how could a room feel like this without some beacon of awkwardness standing around?
“I know you don’t remember anything about yourself… but do you remember the story called Snow White?”
That caught Romano’s attention. That and the fact that Spain was definitely in his personal space now. “Yeah… mmf!”
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And his tongue.
Romano stopped thinking for a while. He must not have done anything else, either, because when he opened his eyes (When did he close them?), Spain had stopped kissing him, and was staring at him expectantly. “Did it work?”
“…What?” He sounded dazed. This was… what was going on? “What are you doing?”
“Japan reminded me about the story earlier. He said True Love’s Kiss could fix anything! And if it didn’t work the first time, lots of True Love’s Kisses could fix even more things!”
“You… no. It didn’t work.” The words only made Spain look more determined, as though he was about to rush headlong into Part B of Japan’s suggestion. How was Romano supposed to react to something like that? “But… but how could you expect it to? You got the scenario all wrong!”
The other country seemed to take this into consideration. “I guess so, but it’s not like I could get the scenario perfectly; you’re in a bed and you’re almost lying down and you need to be cured, right? Which of the other parts of the story could I have gotten? You aren’t a princess, Romano…”
“You could have at least warned me, so I could pretend to be asleep or something.” Wait a minute, was he really going along with this?”
Spain had the same question. “You want to try it, Romano? For real?”
Romano couldn’t find any words, so he just put his head on his pillows, got comfortable on the little bed, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. He opened one eye. “Are you just going to stand there all day or what?”
Spain was still next to the bed, where he had been the entire time. “So that was a yes?”
The southern half of Italy sighed. “It’s not like it could hurt to try. What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, you’re not bad looking.”
The other country frowned. “Romano,” he chided, “that’s really shallow.” He might have said some other things about how Romano should have more qualifications for kissing people he didn’t remember, but before long, his mouth was otherwise occupied.
This time, with Romano’s tongue.
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Just as they were really getting into it, as Spain’s hands began to wander and Romano began to wonder whether he should be suggesting that his hospital gown would look better on the floor, something happened. Something other than heated making out, although that didn’t really stop.
As Spain returned his attentions to Romano’s mouth, from his slight interlude pressing butterfly kisses on the other’s neck, something began buzzing in Romano’s mind. If he had been wearing pants, something would have already been buzzing in those, but this was a different sort of feeling. As the country on top of him ground his hips down and began sucking on Romano’s lower lip, Romano felt ten thousand sensations. Not the least of which were the whispers in the back of his mind, and oh it was too good, and he was… he was-
THUMP
Goddamn fucking bedrails. Italy Romano clutched at his abused head and cursed the moron who had invented bedrails. Bastard was probably German.
Wait.
Well shit… he remembered. Everything. And now Spain had stopped kissing him and was looking at him with concern. “Romano… are you alright? I’m sorry, should we stop…?”
This could go several ways. Romano could let Spain know that he was alright now, and that everything was back to normal. But. But frankly, he didn’t want things to go back to normal. Normal Romano would never be caught dead or alive making out with Spain, especially when he was only wearing a flimsy paper gown. But amnesiac Romano… amnesiac Romano didn’t know any better. He could get away with a lot of things…
“The fuck are you doing, you idiot? Get back down here, it might start working soon. And this time, try running your hands through my hair…”
Spain complied.
In a house not too far away, the country of Japan was just starting a new save file in his old Trauma Center game. Now that Romano-san was in the hospital, the Asian nation would need to brush up on his medical skills. As the game loaded, Japan had a curious thought:
’Now was it one knock to the head, or two, that fixes amnesia?’
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