[fic] Tomatoes are Annoying to Throw
Title: Tomatoes are Annoying to Throw
Author: Moi~
Character and Pairings: England, Spain, Hungary, Romano, America, mentions of Liechtenstein, Switzerland, France and Prussia, and the mafia.
Rating: T/PG-13
Warnings: Romano's mouth, though it's not that bad.
Summary: The Spanish Armada’s fall was about to be re-enacted, and Arthur was going to make sure of it. He was going to give Antonio a taste of his own medicine.
Notes: Word Count: 657
It was almost maddening. Almost.
Preparing took the amounts of months it did, and the train had arrived in Bunyol. This was good. This was a game he intended to win..
One, two, three bags decorated his arms, each one of them huge and filled with tomatoes. This was brilliant; he was going to have the time of his life today. The crowds of Spaniards stared at him sometimes, but they were all amiable and eager to start the contest.
The Spanish Armada’s fall was about to be re-enacted, and Arthur was going to make sure of it. He was going to give Antonio a taste of his own medicine.
Grinning, Arthur crept over so that he was a bit behind Antonio, close but far enough away not to be seen. He was the country of England, after all - Spying was a snap!
The seconds just ticked by and everyone kept staring at their watches. Any minute now, it would sound…And the fight would begin. This was it. Arthur had everything ready, he could reach for a tomato at any given time in a convenient manner. He also took weeks practicing his aim, so that he wouldn’t screw everything up and somehow manage to throw the tomato all the way back to London.
Any minute now. Arthur readied his tomato and aimed it right at Antonio’s head, and the bell rang. He threw, hard…
But he was still a pathetic aim. Why was Lilli here anyways? And why did Vash have to bring a gun?
Antonio had moved off somewhere else, and Arthur endured many tomatoes aimed at the eyebrows. Bloody gits, they were just eyebrows, not the Tower of London covered in hair and stuck on his forehead!
He spied Elizaveta, covered in tomato. She aimed well…even though she was hit a lot, she could probably get a shot in.
“Hey, Elizaveta.” Arthur whispered in a flash of courage.
“What do you want?”
“Could you hit Antonio with a few dozen tomatoes? I can’t throw that hard from here.”
A gleam appeared in Elizaveta’s eyes, and Arthur swore silently. “Ooh, interested in Antonio now? What, was Alfred not oblivious enough for you? I thought you were a gentleman, but you sure have bad taste in people.”
To make the situation worse, a tomato hit Arthur in the back of his head and to make that worse, Alfred threw it.
“I heard what Eliza said.” Alfred said, with a grin on his face that did not match his tone in the least.
“W-what?!” Arthur sputtered. “We were never together, you wanker! 45 of your states don’t even allow same-sex marriage!”
The grin got wider.
Arthur wished he brought an umbrella. How long was this going to last, anyways?
Thoroughly dripping with tomato, he made his way to Antonio, who was tossing tomatoes at Gilbert and Francis. Arthur threw a quick tomato at Francis before creeping towards Antonio. He couldn’t possibly miss at this distance.
Well, he couldn’t miss, but it was a bit hard to hit when Arthur had the mafia creeping up from behind and a less-than-amused Italian glaring at him. Arthur was never so thankful that looks couldn’t kill.
“So you’re after Spain now?” Lovino asked, clearly not amused. “Elizaveta told me America wasn’t enough for your taste.”
And all Arthur could babble out was, “G-guns aren’t allowed! This is a tomato-throwing contest!”
Idiot. Arthur forgot that he was Southern Italy, of all people. He didn’t even bother to count how many guns were pointed at him, there were at least twenty.
Then a tomato and a Spaniard hit Lovino.
“Loviii~ I told you not to bring the guns after that incident two years ago!” Antonio chided.
“B-Bastard! Get off!” Lovino was as red as the splotch in his hair.
“Ah, Arthur! I didn’t invite you.” Antonio noticed.
“You did.” A tomato accompanied Arthur’s words.
Oh, how Arthur wished he wasn’t such a horrible aim.