Hetalia kink meme part 24
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hetalia kink meme
part 24
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If there was one thing Romano did not plan on, it was getting pregnant. Yeah sure, he and Spain tended to be together in a bed more often than not, and protection was the last thing on both their minds, but there was the little fact that Romano was male. As far as he knew, getting knocked up was not possible. However, after staring at the tenth pregnancy test that he had finally convinced himself to buy, and eventually believing the little pink plus did not mean infertile, he was starting to think that maybe it might possibly could have been the teensiest bit possible.
“ANTONIO!”
The shout echoed throughout the large house, out through the door, bounced around the country side and finally reached the ears of the man in question (well, exclamation). Spain, who had been hunched over inspecting a newly budded tomato, straightened up and after debating whether it was a real emergency, or just Romano shouting about the kitchen he was supposed to have cleaned, he put down his basket of ripe tomatoes, and headed inside.
Out of all the things he had expected though, Romano curled in a ball on the bathroom floor crying, was not one of them. “Lovi?!” Spain frantically asked, attempting to pull apart his lover's make shift cocoon of bath towels so he could hug him properly. “Why are you crying? Did you hit your head on the sink again? I told you to let me help when you can't reach the top shelf!” But instead of a response, or an angry shout of 'I am perfectly capable of reaching things on my own! That was one time!', Romano just seemed to cry louder and sink further into the corner of the bath tub and the wall.
Seeming to realize his tactic of guessing what was wrong was only to met with failure (But not after suggesting every other time Spain had found Romano sobbing in a corner), Spain looked around to see if his tomato's cause of distress was still lurking. A quick check of behind the shower curtain proved fruitless, there was nothing but his missing shoe in the bathroom drawers, and only assorted cleaning products resided under the sink. Thoughts of giving up and trying to have Romano tell him what was wrong again were cut short when his eyes fell on the trashcan. It was overflowing with- pregnancy tests? Oddly enough, they were all positive too. “Um, Lovi? Why are there pregnancy tests in the trashcan? Is that why you're crying?”
That seemed to hit the nail on the head, and Romano gave a quick nod. However, this only added more questions than answers. Had Belgium been over? Was she pregnant? Actually, was she even dating anyone? Ruling out Belgium, and really every other women Spain knew, the answer seemed to take form in the shape of a cute, temperamental Italian who was -now- silently crying right in front of him.
Dropping to his knees, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, Spain quietly whispered the question he already knew the answer to. “Lovino... are you pregnant?”
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Spain was there to, but instead of sitting in the faux calmness Romano was practicing, he was wearing the carpet thin by pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. It was enough to get odd looks from the other patients who had been forced to wait as well.
“What idiot gets a spoon stuck in their ear?” Romano thought, inspecting the man sitting with his back to him. Every now and then though, Spain would pass through his line of vision, cutting off his view. He turned to get a better look, but Spain found it necessary to stop right at the back of the chair that the newly named 'spoon bastard' was sitting in.
Growling, Romano decided to instead look around at the other poor suckers surrounding him in little uncomfortable chairs as well. There was a girl who was painting her nails for the second time, a young boy who was chewing on his oblivious father's tie, and a old couple who seemed to want to be anywhere but here. That made three of them.
Finally, after Romano had snapped and told Spain that he had best fucking sit down or he'd wake up with no toes, a nurse came to tell him it was his turn to see 'Dr. Malot'.
“Geez, that's a reassuring name”, Romano muttered, glaring at Spain as they both took seats in an empty examination room.
“Aw, don't be scared Lovi! You're going to be fine, really. France told me about this doctor. He said he was in charge of dealing with nation related medical things! Cause we all tend to get um, odd problems.”
“Are you calling my kid a problem?!”
“What? No! No- ouch! Don't hit me! Now that's not cute at all”
However, before Romano could continue his assault on his -Lover? Boyfriend? Father of his somehow possible child?-, a nurse entered the room.
“Romano is it? Please come with me, I have to get your weight and height measured.” And so Romano once again got to his feet to walk to another room. This process was sure fucking annoying.
After discovering that no, no matter how he looked when inspecting the mirror prior, he was no taller than he was last time he checked. Which was still shorter than Spain. Once day, he swore that Tomato Bastard would have to look up a him for once! However, the good news didn't stop there. He was actually fatter than last time he checked to. Oh joy!
He was sent back to the examination room and told to wait for the doctor. Like a damn puppy. Though annoyed, he let Spain rub his back until the doctor finally showed. His back hurt, alright?
He doctor, who showed up ten minutes after Romano had yelled at Spain to get his hands out of his pants, was a tall man, with gray hair and tiny glasses that almost slipped off his nose. He had a frown etched into his lips, and a German accent that made Romano hate him instantly.
“Hello, I am Dr. Malot.”, He started. “What seems to be the problem today?”
“Why the hell should I tell you?” Romano snapped, switching his glare from Spain to the doctor.
Dr. Malot sighed, having read the case files already. Romano Vargas, AKA South Italy, was known to be quite difficult when authority was involved. He decided to take the safer route of asking the person tapping his fingers in a excruciatingly annoying pattern.
“Well, I wouldn't say something's wrong, because that something is actually really amazing!” Spain exclaimed, voice rising at amazing.
Well, that was different. It was definitely a first time someone described an ailment as amazing. “Amazing? How so?”
“Well-” Spain seemed to notice the death glare Romano was sending his way, and held his hands up placating. “Romano better tell you.”
There was a pregnant pause (no pun intended), in which Romano simply stared hard at the floor. Seconds slowly turned into minutes. Dammit, he didn't realize how hard it would be to tell someone he was pregnant.
“Um... I think. Well, the stick said- there was a plus. And, and I tried different times and.... I think I'm uh, pregnant.”
“Mhm. If that seems to be the case, I do need to run a few tests.”
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“...”
Was he fucking serious?! A guy- Romano- tells him he is pregnant and the asshole doesn’t even bat an eye?! “What the hell? Do people always come up to you to tell you they're pregnant?! Did you even hear me right?!”
The doctor reached to pick up his clip board, continuing on as if Romano had told him he had broken his pinky toe. “Well, people do tell me they're pregnant. However, it is mainly women. And some of those pregnancies turn out to be some other issue entirely. And since it is not possible for a man to have a child, that is what I believe you are going through. So we need to run a few tests and discover what really is happening. Would you describe for me the symptoms that have led you to that conclusion?”
Romano didn't think he hated anyone more than the potato bastard, but apparently he was wrong. He longed to reach out and strangle the bastard. Fucking jackass, treating him like he was five and lying about squirrels and such!
Spain, having been watching the doctor with a curious expression, now reached over to grab Romano's hand. Whether he knew what Romano was thinking, or just wanted to hold his hand, the world may never know. However, it did calm Romano down just enough to answer Dr. Bastard's question.
“Um, three months ago I was getting tired and cranky, more so than usual. Then I couldn't eat tomatoes anymore. I, I ate a potato! And like it! Then I had to fucking pee, constantly. Which would have been somewhat normal except I uh, noticed this.”
Romano untangled his fingers from Spain's and lifted up his shirt. Sure enough, a clear bulge was poking out of his stomach.
“So I went and bought a pregnancy test, because Elizabeta said something when I was little and figured it couldn't hurt. So then I tried another and another. It became pretty fucking clear past that point”
“May I?” Dr. Malot asked, leaning to inspect Romano's stomach. “Aw, yes Elizabeta. She was here a few days ago with Gilbert. Something about a frying pan accident and such. Could you lift up you arms? Okay, now breath in, breath out...”
An hour flew by. 'Dr. Bastard' had made him pee in a cup, wait, listen to his heart beat twenty five times, made him wait, made Spain wait. Took blood sample, and made them both- once again- wait.
“If we wait any longer, it's going to be pretty damn clear whether I'm carrying your little brat or not!”
Spain looked hurt, and maybe Romano felt a little bad for lashing out, but that still didn't change his mind. This was getting ridiculous.
“I know it's hard, but look on the bright side! You get to spend time with me!” Spain chirped, like the fucking birdbrain he was.
“Why the hell would I want to spend time with you? And besides, I might as well live in your house with the amount of time I'm over there.”
“Yeah, but we're all alone here. And besides, I don't believe we've had sex in a doctor's office before...”
He had best be fucking joking. “You have better be fucking joking. Sex is what got us here in the first place! Hey, hey! Stop getting so close!”
Romano was sure they were ten seconds away from full blown make-out session, when the doctor finally stumbled in. He jumped back, pushing Spain away as hard as he could, but the doctor paid neither much attention.
“I have some big news”
So he finally saw Romano was right! That would teach him about disregarding Romano's amazing intuition.
Dr. Malot took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something. “Congratulations. You're having twins.”
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“T-twins?”, Romano stuttered, unsure if he heard right. There was no fucking way he was having twins. No, no nononono. It was bad enough accepting the fact that he -Romano, the MALE southern half of Italy, brother of both Veneziano and Seborga, proud hater of potatoes- was pregnant. But pregnant with TWINS?!
“I checked every possible alternative. I ran every test possible. Without a doubt you're pregnant-”
“Um, excuse me”, Spain asked, cutting him off. “How do you know it's twins?” Romano nodded eagerly, looking for some explanation.
“Normally there is one heartbeat, just yours. But each time I got three different results. Yours, and two others. There really is no other explanation I can think of.”
“What if the baby has two hearts?” Spain questioned.
“What kind of stupid ass question is that?!” Romano screeched, face red with anger. However. the doctor seemed to take the idea into serious consideration.
“Well, it may be possible. Nothing like this has every happened before, and every variable is a factor.”
“No! My baby is not a freak!” Romano shouted, clutching his stomach protectively. Spain immediately enveloped Romano in a hug, whispering apologizes.
“Shhh, shhhh thats not what I meant Romano. I'm sorry, lo siento.”
Dr. Malot payed the two no mind, as he was preoccupied with scribbling down his phone number. “Here”, he started handing it toward Romano. “Call me immediately if anything unusual occurs, or if you have any questions. It is essential you track your pregnancy as well. Nothing like this as ever happened before, and we need a reference if it does happen again. You are free to go, but no strenuous labor, or anything of the sort.”
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“You're going to have to tell him at some point Lovi” Spain called to the unresponsive Romano lying on the couch. “He might become suspicious if you disappear for nine months and refuse to call or go home.”
Romano scoffed, moving to stand up. “Feliciano wouldn’t bat an eye at me dropping off the face of the earth for three years, much less nine months. Besides, he'll just think I'm ignoring him. Not to mention he has that potato freak he's gaga over.”
“Okay, but what about Bella? Can't I at least tell Francis? Someone is going to think something's wrong!”
Romano just rolled his eyes, knowing far well nobody gave a shit if he didn't make a social appearance. It's not like he really had any friends to worry about finding out, as he tended to keep to himself. He was perhaps the complete opposite of his brother, who was the center of attention anywhere. Fuck, if Romano walked outside of the house (most likely with Spain frantic by his side) seven months along, no one would look his way.
However, Romano did know Spain had a lot of friends. And acquaintances. And past enemies. And past colonies. And- fuck. Half the world would notice is Spain didn't show show at some social gathering or another without his 'precious tomato!' trailing around behind him. Even if Spain went alone, he was bound to spill what Romano has made him swear was a secret. He could just imagine how Spain would carelessly tell every damn thing in the room.
“Hola Francis! Sorry I didn't call, but Lovino's pregnant so I'm not aloud to tell anyone- whoops!”
“Oh, lo siento! I didn't see you there! Hey, I'm sorry about your suit- Lovino's going to have a baby!”
Gilbert! Did I tell you the secret I was supposed to not tell anyone? No? Well, Lovi got pregnant!
“My, what a cute little potted plant! Why, I bet you're the only one in this entire room who doesn't know I fucked Lovino and knocked him up!”
Just thinking about it made Romano mad, and he stewed quietly. Who does that bastard think he is? Going to a party without him and leaving him all alone while he carelessly throws Romano's pride out the window?! It's not like Romano needs him. No, not at all. Fuck, he could stay at that party for all he cares, and leave him to raise his own fucking kids!
“Lovino?!” Spain gasped, finally emerging from the kitchen.
“You bastard! Why the hell do you think you can just leave me like that?! I'm carrying your fucking kids and you expect me to raise them all alone while you have fun somewhere else?!”
“What? Lovi, you aren't making any sense-”
“What the fuck do you care?!”
“Lovino, come on now. Sit down.” Spain commanded, navigating a now sobbing Romano to the couch. “Shh, stop crying. What do you mean leave you? Why would I leave you?”
“Because I'm fat and weird and ugly and demanding and stupid and-”
Romano's rant (which unfortunately was far from over) was cut short by Spain pulling him into a kiss.
“No. No diga eso. You're pregnant, with my child. You aren't fat, and certainly aren’t weird. Don't ever think that. And as for leaving you, I would never. Not now, not ever.”
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“Yes, and I'll show you.” With that, Spain leaned down to kiss Romano again. Soon Romano found himself pinned against the couch, with one very eager Spaniard plastered to him. Spain grinned when he felt Romano respond, shyly at first even after all the times they've kissed.
Spain reached up to grip that one curl he knew had an effect (Though, in all honesty, the knowledge of this amazing ahoge was a mystery for quite a while). Romano gasped, face growing red and eyes shut tight.
Romano could feel Spain's smirk as he gripped his curl, but all he could do was moan as Spain's hand drifted lower and lower down his body until- shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
“No!” Romano gasped in a panic. “No! We can't! I'm, I'm pregnant!”
Spain withdrew his hand immediately, expression of that of confusion. “But-”
“No. No fucking buts. I have no idea if it's safe or not, and there is no way I'm taking a fucking chance! And it seemed for the hundredth time sense he first found out he was pregnant that Romano was clutching his stomach protectively
“Aw! Lovino! You're already such a caring mommy~” Spain said smiling, wrapping Romano into a hug, apparently over being denied sex.
“Yeah yeah, shut up already would you- what did you call me?”
Spain froze momentarily, mid cuddle. “um... a mommy?”
“I AM NOT A FUCKING WOMEN YOU BASTARD!”
Groaning, Spain could only watch Romano storm away from his position on the floor. It appeared sex was out of the question but headbutts were just fine. Huh.
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Sorry for the split into 3 parts! Stupid character limit got me again
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More than a tad concerned, probably more so than when Romano had screamed at him for not adding American potatoes into the pasta, Spain resolved to keep a close eye on Romano from there on out. Which honestly wasn't hard since he had been doing the exact same thing since Romano became pregnant.
“Antonio?” Romano asked tentatively, swinging their linked hands together. The only response Spain could muster was a quiet “Hm?”, and Romano rushed into his question before he lost the nerve.
“Do you think I'd be a good parent?”
Spain tightened his grip on Romano's hand. “Oh course! Why do you ask?”
“Because. Reasons” Spain frowned a little at Romano's response, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, the silence became too much, and Spain stopped walking, causing Romano to pause as well.
“Like what?” Spain prompted, trying to meet Romano's elusive gaze.
“I- I well, um, I don't want for our kids to get all messed up because of me. I mean, you say I'm all these things I'm not, and I don't- I couldn't stand it if he or she hated me. I know what I'm like and, hell, everybody knows what I'm like and I don't know what to do and I'm, I'm scared.”
Spain stayed quiet for a minute, debating on the best course of action. Finally he chose the one most natural to him. Pulling Romano into a tight hug, and continuing as though he never planned on letting go.
“I'm scared too you know. I'm scared for you and I'm scared for the babies. And as for being a horrible guardian, I would like you to name one person who could be better than you at raising a child, and I will prove you wrong.”
“Feliciano.” Romano's voice came out as barely a whisper.
Spain froze, processing the idea. Italy? A mother.. er, father... care taker? The idea slowly sank in, and almost without realizing it, Spain burst into laughter.
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Spain tried to suppress his laughter, but the more he tried to imagine Italy caring for child, the more he laughed. As much as he adored the younger Vargas brother, the whole idea of him in charge of another life was commercial.
“Bastard! That's not funny! If you think my idea is stupid just fucking say it!” Spain was dragged down to earth by Romano's hurt expression, and quickly tried to make amends.
“No! I don't think it's stupid, just silly. Why would Feli be any better than you as a parent? As long as I've known him, he's always been kinda spacey. I just think someone would get really hurt under his watch if no one else was around.”
Romano entertained the thought for a second, but quickly shot it down. “No, he's got Potato Bastard to help him. And that's not why I thought he'd be the better parent. He's always so nice and sweet and stupid crap like that. Hell, even I would rather have him than me.”
Spain just shook his head. How did Romano think so low of himself? “No querido, you're wrong. Anyone who knows you- really knows you- can tell you. You're not so easily likeable, yes, but that's what makes you so perfect. Because it takes getting time to know you to see all the amazing qualities you have. Our bebé is going to love you, just as much as I do.”
There was silence in the moment following, Romano looking like he was attempting to absorb Spain's words. Then, rising to stand on the pads of his feet, he pulled Spain down and kissed him sweetly. “I, I love you too.” And, almost as if he was debating whether or not to say his next words out loud, Romano sputtered, “And, and you k-know, if you'd like to show me. That you love me and all. You can do that. I called the doctor to ask, and he said it's perfectly fine. So yeah.”
Smirking, Spain swept Romano's feet out from under him, and caught him in the same motion. “I believe I have no choice then. If mi corazón wants my churro, then that's what he'll get.”
And with that, the idiot boss carried the sputtering, tomato red boy into their house, where they had churros all night long.
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Words cannot describe how sorry I am about those last two paragraphs. Really, for anyone who wanted a decent ending to this installment, I'm sorry. I can't believe I took so long putting this up! And wow this story is getting long. I'm no good with conclusions. I'm rather glad I have a nine month time frame, otherwise things would be going day by day. And that would get ridiculous.
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Despite what Romano believed, Italy did notice he was missing. A voice mail message was all the warning Romano received before his brother was all but trying to knock down the door. Not like he could however.
This could have all been fine -Romano could have just dealt with his idiot brother and hit the potato bastard and all would have been well- had he not been fucking huge (by his standards at least. Dr. Malot had said he was due to be a lot bigger in the coming months).
Though there were ways around the baby (or babies) bump, as he had learned. Wearing baggy clothes for one, works. Or he could just causally hide behind something that would cover his entire body and he'd be good to go. Both options were perfect if he wasn't extremely picky over his clothes and wanted deal with Spain's disapproval of 'hiding the babies'. Which he didn't, thank you very much.
Then there was the option where he actually told Veneziano and the potato bastard that he was careless and stupid and a freak, who actually somehow got pregnant. Which was not happening, so what was the point of considering it?
The knocking grew louder and more insistent. Romano knew from experience that Veneziano would stay out there until he opened the door, trying everything from crocodile tears to begging his boytoy to knock the door in. Romano just had to wait them out.
Suddenly though, there was the turning of a lock, and a cheerful hello. “Hola!”
That jackass! Spain had caved and opened the door, against Romano's strict orders not to! Well, just because they were in doesn't mean Romano had to make an appearance. He'll just camp upstairs until they left.
Of course fate wasn't on his side. And neither was Spain it seemed. The third time Veneziano asked- Romano could actually hear his whining from the closet he had locked himself in- Spain directed him upstairs.
Veneziano left no bedsheet unturned, bathroom unsearched, or closet unchecked. Which was how Romano found himself face to face with his little brother, awkwardly standing in the half darkness of the closet, once again clutching his stomach.
“Fratello! I was so worried about you!” Veneziano shouted, throwing his arms around his brother in a tight hug. “Why were you avoiding me?”
“Who said I was avoiding you damnit?” Romano growled, trying to squirm out Veneziano's hold.
Veneziano gave him an incredulous look. “You were hiding in the closet”
Romano, still struggling, tried to come up with a half assed excuse. Usually anything would work with this dimwit. “I was, um looking for something.”
“Oh really? I'll help!” Case and point.
Finally released from 'hug therapy' Romano began walking to the door. “I found it already, idiota. Come on, I'm hungry.”
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“Why'd you do that, Lovi?” Spain asked, continuing to make what ever he was on the stove.
“Because. He might try to make to food more German.” Romano said, scowling.
Spain just sighed, refraining from pointing out that now Germany and Veneziano were alone in the hallway. “But he's our guest.”
“No”, Romano snorted. “He's your guest. I wasn't going to let them in”
A startled gasp in the doorway revealed Italy, who had been listening in on the short conversation. “You, you weren't going to let me in?”
Shit, now he was going to cry. Good going. To prevent this catastrophe, Romano somewhat reluctantly pulled his brother into a hug.
“Don't cry, you'll get the floor all wet!”
“I knew it! You were hiding from me! Why are you so mean fratello?”
“Gah! Stop crying. Feli I'm serious! Fine, I'm sorry, okay?”
And in mere seconds, Veneziano went from crying to smiling. Spain smiled as well, and turned back to the stove. Germany stood next to him, offering to help clean. All was fine, until Italy noticed something was off.
“Wow Fratello... you're getting really big! Did you eat too much pasta?”
Romano squeaked in response, face growing red. “What the hell Feli?! I'm not fat!”
“But your stomach is really big...” Veneziano trailed off, moving to pull up Romano's shirt. Romano in turn leapt away, dashing toward the other side of the kitchen. Veneziano moved to follow him, but was stopped by Germany.
“Feliciano, what did I say about personal space?” Germany started, resisting the urge just sigh and leave the brothers to their own devices.
“Not to touch people?”
“No, that's not what I said.”
“Oh, well I don't remember! And in any case, I only touched his shirt!” Italy managed to wriggle out of Germany's hold, and dash back to where Romano was standing. “See Fratello! You've stomach really is-”
Whatever Veneziano had been trying to say was cut short as he let out a quick scream, dashing behind Germany. “It kicked me!” He wailed, clutching Germany's shirt. “Romano! Your stomach kicked me!”
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