Quietly, Romano shifted in bed. The linens rubbed against his bare legs, getting the slightest bit tangled. He didn't mind so much right now, even knowing how he'd regret it come morning while frustratedly fighting with the knot that was sure to ensnare his ankle. For now though, he was content to lose himself in these sheets - colored indigo in the bruised world of night. Their scarlet hue was still vivid against the backs of his eyelids though, in contrast with Spain's gloriously olive skin, his hair like spun coffee.
Romano shivered.
Rolling carefully onto his side, he propped his head on his hand, gazing through the dark at Spain. This man - who once had played a simple and certain role in Romano's life - had twisted and morphed through the centuries into another niche entirely, filling voids in Romano's heart and, at times, leaving others in his wake. Romano's view of 'Boss' had always been a little bit skewed, even as a child, but now...
Even under the cover of darkness, Romano bit back the twitch in his lips.
Moonlight poured through the great windows in a deluge of silver shadows, bathing everything in a ghostly pallor. Romano reached out tentatively, hesitating, pulling his hand back and clenching his fist before finally allowing himself a touch. As his slender fingers carded through Spain's fine strands, he worried his bottom lip, remembering how only hours ago, that hair had been plastered to the Spaniard's forehead, his eyes shut tight, mouth gaping, skin ruddy...
Leaning forward, suspending himself delicately around the sleeping man, Romano laid a gentle kiss to Spain's forehead, brushing back his bangs. He watched from a distance, satisfied, as the messy cocoa fringe fell back into his placid face. Romano wondered idly what Spain was dreaming of, if he was remembering Romano's weight above him, his hot breath as it cascaded down the hollow of his neck, how in the last throes of passion, Romano could not contain a coarse, broken, “Ti amo.”
There was a brief twitch in the air before the space between them exploded with noise, a cracked second split with chaos in which Romano pulled back in alarm: Spain sneezed. In his sleep, Spain sneezed, and appeared to have gone right on sleeping, undisturbed by his fit of nasal upset. Moving the offending bangs away from Spain's nose, Romano could not retain the grin that forced its way out, crinkling the corners of his eyes, displaying two rows of straight, smoke-stained teeth. Shaking his head, he sank beneath the covers, closing his eyes and slipping into sleep once more. The sneeze had not woken Spain.
However.
Romano's fingers caressing his face and hair had. Decades of handling Romano had taught Spain that it was better to be safe than sorry, so he'd lain still and silent, basking in the rare display of affection. And in the split second during his sneeze and the suffocating quiet that followed, he had gawked disbelievingly through his lashes at his charge-turned-friend-turned-lover.
Spain could barely wait for the safety of Romano's soft snores to let his own smile free, his gut churning with butterflies as the picture flashed over and over before his eyes like so many reels of film. It was the best movie Spain had ever seen, if he did say so himself.
It was a shame, he lamented, falling back asleep, that Romano did not smile like that more often. Then again, perhaps it was best hidden in the secret depths of night: Spain rather liked keeping this Romano all to himself. Selfish, he reflected, unconcerned, before curling easily into the cottony down of linen and dreams; of white, Italian sand and sunny afternoons in Capri. And best of all, glittering beneath the azure skies, unmatched even by the shimmering turquoise sea, Romano's smile.
Spain's own lips lifted at the corners in his sleep.
fin
anon apologizes for this fail micro-fill, but the prompt was so sweet.
Re: Part 16. Spain and Romano -- Making Romano Smile 1/1
anonymous
November 8 2011, 09:40:49 UTC
bed fluff!fics tend to be a little repetitive but this surprised me in the best possible way, the descriptions were very original and the sneeze was a shock for me as it was for Romano.
http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/18439.html?thread=61465863#t61465863
The Art of Self-Restraint
Quietly, Romano shifted in bed. The linens rubbed against his bare legs, getting the slightest bit tangled. He didn't mind so much right now, even knowing how he'd regret it come morning while frustratedly fighting with the knot that was sure to ensnare his ankle. For now though, he was content to lose himself in these sheets - colored indigo in the bruised world of night. Their scarlet hue was still vivid against the backs of his eyelids though, in contrast with Spain's gloriously olive skin, his hair like spun coffee.
Romano shivered.
Rolling carefully onto his side, he propped his head on his hand, gazing through the dark at Spain. This man - who once had played a simple and certain role in Romano's life - had twisted and morphed through the centuries into another niche entirely, filling voids in Romano's heart and, at times, leaving others in his wake. Romano's view of 'Boss' had always been a little bit skewed, even as a child, but now...
Even under the cover of darkness, Romano bit back the twitch in his lips.
Moonlight poured through the great windows in a deluge of silver shadows, bathing everything in a ghostly pallor. Romano reached out tentatively, hesitating, pulling his hand back and clenching his fist before finally allowing himself a touch. As his slender fingers carded through Spain's fine strands, he worried his bottom lip, remembering how only hours ago, that hair had been plastered to the Spaniard's forehead, his eyes shut tight, mouth gaping, skin ruddy...
Leaning forward, suspending himself delicately around the sleeping man, Romano laid a gentle kiss to Spain's forehead, brushing back his bangs. He watched from a distance, satisfied, as the messy cocoa fringe fell back into his placid face. Romano wondered idly what Spain was dreaming of, if he was remembering Romano's weight above him, his hot breath as it cascaded down the hollow of his neck, how in the last throes of passion, Romano could not contain a coarse, broken, “Ti amo.”
There was a brief twitch in the air before the space between them exploded with noise, a cracked second split with chaos in which Romano pulled back in alarm: Spain sneezed. In his sleep, Spain sneezed, and appeared to have gone right on sleeping, undisturbed by his fit of nasal upset. Moving the offending bangs away from Spain's nose, Romano could not retain the grin that forced its way out, crinkling the corners of his eyes, displaying two rows of straight, smoke-stained teeth. Shaking his head, he sank beneath the covers, closing his eyes and slipping into sleep once more. The sneeze had not woken Spain.
However.
Romano's fingers caressing his face and hair had. Decades of handling Romano had taught Spain that it was better to be safe than sorry, so he'd lain still and silent, basking in the rare display of affection. And in the split second during his sneeze and the suffocating quiet that followed, he had gawked disbelievingly through his lashes at his charge-turned-friend-turned-lover.
Spain could barely wait for the safety of Romano's soft snores to let his own smile free, his gut churning with butterflies as the picture flashed over and over before his eyes like so many reels of film. It was the best movie Spain had ever seen, if he did say so himself.
It was a shame, he lamented, falling back asleep, that Romano did not smile like that more often. Then again, perhaps it was best hidden in the secret depths of night: Spain rather liked keeping this Romano all to himself. Selfish, he reflected, unconcerned, before curling easily into the cottony down of linen and dreams; of white, Italian sand and sunny afternoons in Capri. And best of all, glittering beneath the azure skies, unmatched even by the shimmering turquoise sea, Romano's smile.
Spain's own lips lifted at the corners in his sleep.
fin
anon apologizes for this fail micro-fill, but the prompt was so sweet.
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Good fic, thanks for sharing!
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