Re: One year, six months, and probably five days (3a/3)
anonymous
September 24 2010, 00:44:20 UTC
Romano had just harvested the tomatoes, was trying to figure out what to cook for dinner, when he heard the creak of the front gate. He looked up, about ready to yell at whoever it was now, but the words dried up when he saw Spain, standing a little unsteadily, looking too thin, smiling at him.
“Hola, Romano,” he said, a little hoarsely, before a tomato splatted against his shirt.
“Bastard,” Romano snarled, marching over. “Why the hell did you let yourself get captured?” (Please don’t be a dream again, please oh please be real…)
“Ah, Romano, that wasn’t very cute,” Spain pouted, apparently ignoring the question.
Romano pulled back, ready to snap at him, when he noticed something important.
“You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, and no, he did not sound horrified. He was properly concerned about a friend acquaintance type thing being injured.
“Eh?” Spain inquired, tilting his head curiously, tomato slowly sliding off his shirt to plop into the dirt.
Romano grabbed Spain’s hand and pointed to his sleeve where blood had seeped through.
“You. Are. Bleeding.” He ground out, interspacing his words with pointed jabs at the wound. He attempted to keep his breathing normal, and succeeded minimally.
“Oh!” Spain exclaimed. “That’s England’s fault. I had to fight him to get away, and he managed to cut my arm. It doesn’t want to heal right.” As Romano quietly fumed about England hurting Spain (Romano was the only one allowed to abuse Spain) he managed to say, “And you didn’t see a doctor?”
“Nope!” Spain grinned obliviously. “I just wanted to see you so bad! I couldn’t stop to see a doctor!”
Romano stared at him in slight shock. (Spain is here. He’s real. He wanted to see me…)
“Hey, Romano! You’re still holding my hand! It’s so cute!”
Romano felt his face turn an incredibly deep red. “Shut up,” he snapped. He turned, without letting go of Spain’s hand, and pulled him towards the house. “You need to get that wound bandaged up,” he said over his shoulder. He managed to pull Spain into the kitchen, and gently pushed him into a chair.
“Stay,” he said firmly. His hand lingered on Spain’s shoulder for a second (just to be sure he stayed put) before he disappeared off into the house.
Spain let his smile droop, just for a second. He was very tired, and his arm did hurt, but he didn’t want to worry his little Romanito even more. After all, boss had been gone for so long, that surely his little tomato would have worried! Right?
Re: One year, six months, and probably five days (3b/3)
anonymous
September 24 2010, 00:49:53 UTC
Romano stormed back into the kitchen, hands newly washed, gauze in one hand and a poultice in the other.
“Right, so sit still and I’ll bandage you up,” Romano started to say.
“Romano,” Spain interrupted, “Did you miss me?”
Romano stared at him for a second, before closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. “Spain,” he said patiently, “Please be quiet. Please.” (I’m about to cry as it is)
Spain’s shoulders drooped, but he stayed quiet.
“Thank you,” Romano said stiffly. He bent over Spain’s arm, so he missed the way Spain’s eyes lit up at the little bit of politeness.
Romano carefully pulled up Spain’s sleeve, wincing at the wound. It was messy, and most definitely had to hurt. Gently, he used some of the gauze to clean the worst of the debris out of the wound before applying the poultice. He worked quietly, nose almost touching Spain’s arm.
When he started winding the gauze around Spain’s arm, everything finally hit him.
Spain’s home. He’s home, and it’s real, and he’s going to be okay. (I'm going to be okay)
Spain looked over curiously at Romano. He had expected insults, yelling about how stupid he was, how mad it made Romano. But instead, here Romano was, quietly bandaging his arm. Spain frowned as Romano’s shoulders started to shake.
“Romano?” he asked cautiously, attempting to move his arm, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine you bastard,” Romano said, but his voice was oddly choked. “I’m just feeling a bit allergic to your stupidity.”
Curiously, Spain titled Romano’s head up, using his newly bandaged arm. Romano’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, with a slight redness underneath. Spain had a moment of understanding, and smiled.
“I missed you very much, Romano,” he murmured, and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy.
Romano blinked, and felt his shoulders shaking even more. He did not return the hug like a sissy, but he might have lost his balance a little while kneeling on the floor and leaned forward against Spain so he could stay upright. Just like that.
After a few moments, Spain pulled away, and carefully observed Romano.
“Maybe I won’t go away for a while,” he said softly.
Romano sniffed, and rubbed his nose furiously. “You better not bastard,” he said, but the weird feeling in his heart was going away, “Because I’m not patching you up anymore.”
Spain smiled, and looked around. It was such a lovely moment, with the sun shining into his nice, clean, kitchen…
“Romano,” he asked, staring, wide-eyed, “Did you clean while I was gone? Maybe I shouldn’t stay if you actually clean!”
Romano shot to his feet immediately and slapped him lightly. “Bastard!” he yelled. “It wasn’t for you! I just got sick of all the dust! It had your stupidity all over it, so I was allergic to that too!” He glared at Spain for a moment before storming outside to reclaim his tomatoes.
But later that night, neither he nor Spain said anything when he winded up in Spain’s bed once more, and pulled him into a clinging hug.
Waaa~! That was sooo good! I loved Romano's reaction to finding out Spain had been captured and all his angsting. The reunion was great! Pfft, Spain is so adorkable. Their interaction was really great. Thank you so much for this fill! ^^ I really enjoyed it~ *crunches you in a hug*
“Hola, Romano,” he said, a little hoarsely, before a tomato splatted against his shirt.
“Bastard,” Romano snarled, marching over. “Why the hell did you let yourself get captured?” (Please don’t be a dream again, please oh please be real…)
“Ah, Romano, that wasn’t very cute,” Spain pouted, apparently ignoring the question.
Romano pulled back, ready to snap at him, when he noticed something important.
“You’re bleeding!” he exclaimed, and no, he did not sound horrified. He was properly concerned about a friend acquaintance type thing being injured.
“Eh?” Spain inquired, tilting his head curiously, tomato slowly sliding off his shirt to plop into the dirt.
Romano grabbed Spain’s hand and pointed to his sleeve where blood had seeped through.
“You. Are. Bleeding.” He ground out, interspacing his words with pointed jabs at the wound. He attempted to keep his breathing normal, and succeeded minimally.
“Oh!” Spain exclaimed. “That’s England’s fault. I had to fight him to get away, and he managed to cut my arm. It doesn’t want to heal right.”
As Romano quietly fumed about England hurting Spain (Romano was the only one allowed to abuse Spain) he managed to say, “And you didn’t see a doctor?”
“Nope!” Spain grinned obliviously. “I just wanted to see you so bad! I couldn’t stop to see a doctor!”
Romano stared at him in slight shock. (Spain is here. He’s real. He wanted to see me…)
“Hey, Romano! You’re still holding my hand! It’s so cute!”
Romano felt his face turn an incredibly deep red. “Shut up,” he snapped. He turned, without letting go of Spain’s hand, and pulled him towards the house. “You need to get that wound bandaged up,” he said over his shoulder.
He managed to pull Spain into the kitchen, and gently pushed him into a chair.
“Stay,” he said firmly. His hand lingered on Spain’s shoulder for a second (just to be sure he stayed put) before he disappeared off into the house.
Spain let his smile droop, just for a second. He was very tired, and his arm did hurt, but he didn’t want to worry his little Romanito even more. After all, boss had been gone for so long, that surely his little tomato would have worried! Right?
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“Right, so sit still and I’ll bandage you up,” Romano started to say.
“Romano,” Spain interrupted, “Did you miss me?”
Romano stared at him for a second, before closing his eyes and letting out a slow breath. “Spain,” he said patiently, “Please be quiet. Please.” (I’m about to cry as it is)
Spain’s shoulders drooped, but he stayed quiet.
“Thank you,” Romano said stiffly. He bent over Spain’s arm, so he missed the way Spain’s eyes lit up at the little bit of politeness.
Romano carefully pulled up Spain’s sleeve, wincing at the wound. It was messy, and most definitely had to hurt. Gently, he used some of the gauze to clean the worst of the debris out of the wound before applying the poultice. He worked quietly, nose almost touching Spain’s arm.
When he started winding the gauze around Spain’s arm, everything finally hit him.
Spain’s home. He’s home, and it’s real, and he’s going to be okay. (I'm going to be okay)
Spain looked over curiously at Romano. He had expected insults, yelling about how stupid he was, how mad it made Romano. But instead, here Romano was, quietly bandaging his arm. Spain frowned as Romano’s shoulders started to shake.
“Romano?” he asked cautiously, attempting to move his arm, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine you bastard,” Romano said, but his voice was oddly choked. “I’m just feeling a bit allergic to your stupidity.”
Curiously, Spain titled Romano’s head up, using his newly bandaged arm. Romano’s eyes were suspiciously shiny, with a slight redness underneath. Spain had a moment of understanding, and smiled.
“I missed you very much, Romano,” he murmured, and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy.
Romano blinked, and felt his shoulders shaking even more. He did not return the hug like a sissy, but he might have lost his balance a little while kneeling on the floor and leaned forward against Spain so he could stay upright. Just like that.
After a few moments, Spain pulled away, and carefully observed Romano.
“Maybe I won’t go away for a while,” he said softly.
Romano sniffed, and rubbed his nose furiously. “You better not bastard,” he said, but the weird feeling in his heart was going away, “Because I’m not patching you up anymore.”
Spain smiled, and looked around. It was such a lovely moment, with the sun shining into his nice, clean, kitchen…
“Romano,” he asked, staring, wide-eyed, “Did you clean while I was gone? Maybe I shouldn’t stay if you actually clean!”
Romano shot to his feet immediately and slapped him lightly. “Bastard!” he yelled. “It wasn’t for you! I just got sick of all the dust! It had your stupidity all over it, so I was allergic to that too!” He glared at Spain for a moment before storming outside to reclaim his tomatoes.
But later that night, neither he nor Spain said anything when he winded up in Spain’s bed once more, and pulled him into a clinging hug.
He’s home.
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I lol'ed at the "allergic to stupidity" excuse, but that didn't stop me from tearing up over this. You are amazing. <3
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