[APH] Cappuccino and Paella [SpaMano]
Title: Cappuccino and Paella
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Spain and Romano; SpaMano
Rating: light R
Warnings: cursing and non-descript sex
Summary: A simple day in the life of Antonio and Romano.
Notes: Kink meme de-anon. Yep, more of these. Have I mentioned how much I love filling in the kink meme? Anyway, this was one I did just before leaving the States for the UK. I procrastinated on a million things with this. Just a side note; I always use 'Romano' whether I'm using human or nation names, because I just really, really don't like 'Lovino'. That's all.
~*~
The morning started with the sun. As always, it dappled through the curtains, lending light to the sleep-darkened upper bedroom of the villa. And, as always, Antonio gave a grunt in his throat as light pulled him from slumber, and he opened one eye to see the sunlight trailing along the light blue walls. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, pushing one hand through his tousled hair, and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his vision to come into focus.
As he stared upwards, a warm, soft form beside him wiggled and squirmed, pulling the thin sheet up over its head and scrunching into a ball. Antonio reached over the sheet and gave a slight scratch to a chocolate brown scalp, and a small noise of distaste was made from the sheet.
“Knock ‘t off,” a voice murmured. Antonio dragged his fingertips through the soft hair, and a limp hand swatted at him. “Sleepin’.”
“I see,” Antonio said, and he turned over onto his side and pulled the sheet down to reveal a slumbering Romano. Romano opened one emerald eye and furrowed his brow, but didn’t make to move the sheet.
“Good morning,” Antonio said as a lazy smile spread across his face. Romano closed his eye and curled up closer to Antonio, snaking his hand around the elder’s bicep and pressing his nose against the muscle.
“Morning,” Romano mumbled. Antonio moved his arm, pulling it out of Romano’s grasp but Romano just moved his hand down to Antonio’s wrist, pulling it to his lips and laying sleepy kisses along his knuckles. Antonio’s toes curled against the mattress and his heart thumped in his chest; seeing Romano acting so cute and romantic in the morning made Antonio want to squeal in delight like a child. Romano was always affectionate when left in a sleepy haze, and Antonio closed his eyes and marveled in the circles Romano was pressing into his palm with his thumb.
“It’s time to get up, Roma,” Antonio said, his eyes never straying from Romano’s closed ones. Romano said nothing, only curling his fingers between Antonio’s and burying his face into the pillow. “Roma, don’t you want breakfast? Some brioche and a cappuccino, perhaps?” Romano made a grunting sound but continued to at least feign sleep as Antonio made to get out of the bed.
“Nghh,” Romano murmured, and even though Antonio was sliding out of the sheets, Romano had a firm grip on his hand. “Don’t go.”
“Romano, I’m starving, and you wouldn’t want Feli to come home and eat the entire brioche, now would you?” Antonio asked, and he lifted Romano’s free hand and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Reluctantly, Romano released Antonio’s hand and it fell back to the bed as Romano rolled over and stretched his arms wide, attempting to wake up. Antonio gave Romano a gentle smile and left the room to head to the grandiose kitchen in the heart of the villa.
Roughly twenty minutes later the aroma of the freshly brewed cappuccino lured Romano downstairs, and the brioche was waiting on a plate on one side of the kitchen island. Romano rubbed his eyes and sat down, taking the mug in hand and taking a deep, hearty gulp from the caffeinated beverage.
“What’re you making?” Romano inquired as he noticed Antonio at the stove. Antonio turned and flashed him a grin as he made to put the milk back into the refrigerator.
“I found some stale bread, so I made torrijas,” the Spaniard explained as he dished the sweet onto a plate. Romano frowned through a mouthful of brioche but Antonio just smiled as he brought the plate over, placing a mug of coffee beside his plate as he sat across from Romano.
“So, tell me, where is your brother?” Antonio asked as Romano drank some more of his cappuccino. Romano grunted and rolled his eyes.
“He’s in his old house in Venice, on a ‘romantic work getaway’,” Romano said, staring at his mug. “He goes there when he has a lot of work to do sometimes, but this time Ludwig went with him. I know they’re supposed to dine with Francis and Angelique at some point. I don’t know, he does whatever he pleases,” Romano said, and he grumpily finished the mug and went to the fridge for orange juice. He poured himself a glass, picked up the remaining brioche and sighed.
It was just a normal Saturday in Rome for them. With Feliciano gone for four days, Antonio jumped at the chance to spend a weekend away from his own boss and be with Romano, even if it meant doing work.
“I have a conference call,” Romano said sullenly. “Stupid, dumbass prime minister of the United Kingdom. And my boss. They want to talk to me about all the agriculture and the poverty and shit like that.” Romano scoffed. “But since Feliciano is the precious north he doesn’t have to be here for the call, so he was able to escape up to his little fairy island with rivers for roads.” Antonio snickered as Romano took a long drink from his juice. “Stupid crap. And it’s Saturday, too.”
“I have work to do as well,” Antonio said, and he stood and walked around to where Romano was standing, leaning against the kitchen island and taking Romano’s hand in his own. “I have reports to write, things to look over, phone calls to make today.”
“I wonder what it would be like to not have to work every single day,” Romano mused darkly. “Remember the days when being a nation didn’t mean being in an office all hours of the day, every day?”
“You mean when it meant spending your days attempting to form a definitive culture and spending every moment terrified of being conquered?” Antonio said, raising his eyebrows and taking Romano’s orange juice from his hands. Romano scowled. He swiped the glass and Antonio grinned.
“Go eat your stupid stale milk bread,” Romano said as he headed for the living room, gathering his laptop from an end table along with his cellphone. Antonio cleaned the kitchen while Romano showered, dressed, and prepared for his conference call. When Antonio entered the living room with his own laptop and a bag of reports to read over, Romano was sitting in the far end of the room, sitting on the floor with his laptop on the coffee table, dressed in a peasant shirt with charcoal colored trousers and black socks. He had his phone on the table beside him, frowning at the screen, and every once in a while chewing at what brioche was left.
“How long is your call?” Antonio asked. Romano shrugged.
“Until at least early afternoon, I know that much,” Romano offered. Antonio grinned and took up residence in his favorite arm chair, over by the window that looked out into the courtyard. At that moment there was a small mew and Gino wandered into the room, looking slightly lost. Gino sat on his haunches and meowed once more in the direction of Romano, who frowned at the cat.
“Feliciano will be back, don’t look at me like that,” Romano said. Gino responded by licking his paw and wiping his ear. Gino then pattered across the floor to where Antonio was sitting and rubbed his leg, purring happily at the sight of the other nation. Antonio scratched behind Gino’s ears.
“Ah, Gino, you are always so nice to me,” Antonio said. “Where is your brother, Gino?”
“Elio is probably sleeping,” Romano said, not looking up from his computer. “He- oh shit,” Romano murmured, and his phone began ringing. He pulled out his headset and sighed. “Okay, this is it, no one talk to me for the next... however long this lasts.”
“I’ll have a big lunch ready when you’re done,” Antonio said, making room in the chair for Gino to sit beside him. Romano rubbed his temple and answered the call.
“Pronto? Oh, buongiorno, signor Cameron.”
Antonio read over reports while gently scratching Gino’s head and listening to Romano force himself to be polite to the Prime Minster of England. Elio eventually appeared from the depths of the house to join Antonio and his brother, although Elio wanted all of Antonio’s attention for himself. When Antonio stood to start making lunch, Elio practically shoved Gino out of the way so he could follow Antonio’s heels closely, although that caused Gino to start meowing and Romano threw a pillow at him from across the room.
It wasn’t until close to one thirty in the afternoon that Romano made like he was going to be done soon. Antonio’s stomach was rumbling and he was eager to eat the food he’d been preparing. Although he was tempted to eat without Romano, he wanted Romano to be sated and happy with him so they could take a siesta together afterwards.
When Romano finally hung up the phone, he was rubbing at his forehead. Antonio brought him over some of the food he’d made and a glass of wine.
“That phone call sounded very tiresome,” Antonio noted as he sat down on the carpet beside Romano, handing him a bowl.
“It sucked, and... you made paella?” Romano said, poking it with his fork. “I thought you didn’t like making paella.”
“I know you love it, so I thought I would,” Antonio said. “There’s cochillo and flan as well.” Romano ate a bite of the dish as his ears turned red from embarrassment.
“Shrimp,” Romano noted. “And pork.” Antonio took a bite of his and flashed a smile towards Romano, who only stared at his bowl. Antonio loved it when Romano was embarrassed and flustered into awkward silence, because Romano just wasn’t sure how to show gratitude.
“It’s good.”
“I know, Roma,” Antonio said, pleased that Romano enjoyed it so much. Although Antonio went back for the other courses, Romano just ate the paella and was happy with it. After their meal, Romano sat on the couch, leaning on the armrest, blinking lazily into the midday sunlight that was shining through the window. He glanced at the stack of work still left for him to do, but with that frustrating conference call finally done with, the pile somehow seemed smaller than before.
“Is Roma tired?” Antonio asked, placing his laptop beside Romano’s on the coffee table.
“Food coma,” was all Romano said in response. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning heavily on his wrist. Antonio took Romano in his arms and laid him against his chest, laying them both down along the length of the couch. Romano protested at first, grabbing onto Antonio’s arms and pulling them away, but once he was lying down with his head over Antonio’s heart, his eyelids fluttered and his breathing evened. Antonio rubbed small circles into his shoulders and neck, and nuzzled Romano’s sweetly-scented hair.
“The sunlight is warm, isn’t it?” Antonio noted as he closed his own eyes. Romano laced his fingers with Antonio’s and laid his ear over Antonio’s heart, listening to the steady thump. It was a familiar sound that Romano had been lured to sleep with many times before, and just hearing the languid beats made him feel tired.
“Mmm,” Romano murmured.
“How was your meeting? Did you get much accomplished?”
“Surprisingly... mmyeah,” Romano murmured. “I have to talk about the importance of import/export laws and... and things, at the next World Summit.” Antonio rubbed Romano’s back gently. Romano’s words were becoming less pronounced as he fell into sleep. Antonio was also tired but not nearly as tired as Romano always seemed to be these days.
“With Feliciano?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a great talk, Romano.”
“Mm.”
“You’ll be fantastic, you always are. Just don’t curse as much, alright, Roma? ...Romano?” Antonio was answered with silence. He was lying with his head back, staring at the ceiling, listening to Romano’s breathing. “Roma?” He gave Romano’s back another rub.
“Oh, Romano,” Antonio whispered, noticing the lack of pressure Romano’s fingers were giving his hand. Romano had drifted off on his chest, just as he normally did whenever he was placed there. Just like he had as a baby. Antonio closed his eyes and had visions of a pink, pudgy, white bundle with dark hair and bright eyes, coming to live with him and only being able to sleep when pressed against Antonio’s chest, right over his heart.
Although Romano had drifted off to sleep, Antonio didn’t have so easy, and instead lay in a half-sleep, his mind reeling with economic doubts and worries. Even though he was still plagued by what was happening in the world, being away from his city and his boss made it easier to bear. And anything was easy when Romano was curled up against him.
“I love you, Italia Romano,” Antonio murmured, and Romano shifted gently against him, unconsciously nuzzling his lover’s chest. Antonio wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders and stroked his head, humming softly to himself.
About two hours passed before Romano gave a soft murmur, his legs untangling from Antonio’s. Antonio looked down at Romano as Romano shifted his weight and attempted to roll off of Antonio-only to hit the carpeted floor with a thud.
“Owwwwwwwwww,” Romano groaned, and Antonio snickered as he sat up and extended an arm to help Romano get back on his feet.
“Are you alright, Roma?” Antonio asked. Romano scowled.
“I’m fine. What a wake-up call,” Romano muttered. He stretched his arms and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the bowl on the counter. Romano groaned as he stretched his lower back and cracked his shoulder blades, staring out the kitchen window.
“I’m going to make dinner tonight,” Romano announced. Antonio stood from the couch and shrugged.
“Alright, sounds good to me, Romano,” Antonio said, walking into the kitchen. He leaned on the counter and smiled lazily at Romano, who had his back to the opposite counter, staring up at the ceiling.
“And now I’m bored,” Romano said. He glared at the ceiling and then turned his glare towards the living room, where his laptop still was. “I don’t want to work anymore. It’s the weekend.”
“Do you have more work? You don’t want to end up doing work on Sunday,” Antonio said. Romano shrugged.
“I have things that I could do, but it’s not urgent enough that I feel a need to go do it,” Romano said, tapping his foot. He then looked at Antonio. “What do you normally do on the weekends?”
“Work, or sleep, or pick produce,” Antonio said. “Or drink. Or I go visit friends. And sometimes-“ he raised his eyebrows-“I spend all day in bed with my Romano.” Romano flushed and frowned.
“Well, we need something to do,” Romano said. He flushed darker as Antonio crossed the kitchen and pulled Romano to his chest, hugging him gently and sliding his hands down Romano’s back.
“We could just do nothing, and be together,” Antonio suggested. That was always his favorite course of action. It was one of the only ways to get Romano to open up about what was bothering him, and Romano was always in a better mood afterwards. “Or... we could always make love.”
“Y-you’re a bastard,” Romano said, but he leaned back against the counter at Antonio’s touch. “In the middle of the day?”
“With the sun shining on us and giving us warmth, it’s the best,” Antonio whispered. Romano took a deep breath and curled his fists into Antonio’s shirt, leaning against his shoulder. Antonio shifted his hips and jutted his thigh between Romano’s legs, causing Romano to squirm and mutter into his torso.
“Well, Roma?” Antonio said, “what do you want to do?”
“Are those my only options?” Romano asked weakly. It was a losing battle on his part, at the moment. Antonio leaned in and kissed Romano’s earlobe, moving to the junction of his jaw and his head, where the skin was taut and sensitive. Romano swallowed and closed his eyes, his breathing becoming shallower and needier.
“We can do whatever you want to,” Antonio whispered. Romano bit his lower lip and glanced at the clock above the stove. It was already quarter-past four, but when Antonio was visiting, dinner was always on the late side anyway.
Antonio ran his hands down over Romano’s perky behind, raising his knee higher so it came in contact with Romano’s groin, and Romano buckled under the sensation running up his spine.
“A-alright, fine,” Romano said, trying to sound annoyed but sounding desperate instead. Antonio hugged him tighter and lifted him up into his arms, throwing him unceremoniously over his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Romano cried as he was suddenly face-to-face with Antonio’s butt. Antonio laughed and held onto Romano’s slim waist as he exited the kitchen and headed towards the sun room, which had a few chairs, a long, low couch and was made of mostly glass, allowing the sun to shine in from all directions. It also doubled as a green house, as it was where the Italian brothers kept their own produce garden, making suitable, leafy walls around the glass windows. Antonio let Romano down onto the floor, where Romano fell over as he tried to regain his footing and Antonio just laughed, grinning down at Romano.
“You’re an asshole,” Romano muttered as he pushed himself up, grabbing the front of Antonio’s shirt and pulling him flush against his chest. “What if I don’t want to do it in here? Didn’t you say whatever I want to?”
“Roma, I know you inside and out,” Antonio said, and his grin turned into a devilish smile. “And you know as well as I do that you don’t care where you’re doing it, as long as you feel good and all the attention is on you.” Romano flushed again at that, sliding his arms around Antonio’s neck and gripping a bit too tightly onto the elder nation.
“Whatever,” he muttered before smashing his lips against Antonio’s. Antonio purred into Romano’s mouth, pleased at the familiar taste of wine and oranges, and backed Romano up until he was falling backwards onto the sofa, one of Romano’s hands on the back of his neck and the other pulling the front of his shirt. Antonio straddled Romano and leaned over, turning his head and kissing deeper, using his tongue to tease the inside of his mouth and running his hands down Romano’s waist.
“You see? You’re already hard and we just got here,” Antonio said, opening his eyes to face Romano. Romano whined as Antonio pulled away and glared at him, wrapping his thin legs around Antonio’s waist.
“Okay, fine, maybe you know everything about me, like I even fucking care,” Romano said, “as long as you cut the shit.” Antonio chuckled and pressed his lips to Romano’s, grinding against the younger nation and sliding his hands under the lip of his trousers.
When the clothes were shucked and Romano’s body was so heightened and sensitized that Antonio’s mere breath made him writhe, the sun seemed to intensify and lay a blanket of warmth over them. Romano was laying on his back, head turned to one side, digging his nails into Antonio’s muscled back as Antonio delivered just what he said he would-utmost attention to Romano’s every muscle, every tendon, every nerve and unattended bit of tanned skin. Romano opened his eyes as Antonio’s fingers made him arch his back, and was greeted by the sun shining through the skylight, sending a warm sensation over his bare chest and sweat-soaked face. Antonio didn’t notice, for he was too busy licking a sensitive nipple and trailing down Romano’s chest, until he was waist-height and Romano curled his toes at the feel of wet heat over his member.
With the sun basking on him, and Antonio lavishing him with his stupid, wonderful mouth and tongue, Romano decided to do a little something for Antonio, and started vocalizing his pleasure because he knew how much Antonio loved it.
“Ohh, Antonio-Espagña,,” Romano murmured, and he felt the smile forming in the corners of Antonio’s lips. “No se detienen, per favor, ohhhh, Espagña!” Soon, Romano lost coherency in his words and he climaxed with Espagña rolling off his tongue, and the feeling of the warm sun on his skin along with the hazy pleasantries of orgasm lingering in his bones, he didn’t even mind finishing Antonio off with a few well-placed strokes and a quick kiss.
“You were rather loud today,” Antonio noted as he stood, running a hand through his hair. Romano was still lying on his back on the couch, his arms above his head, half-smiling with his eyes closed. “Are you listening to me, Roma?”
“Yes, yes,” Romano answered, although his voice sounded distant and dream-like. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Antonio. “You give the best head.” Antonio chuckled and pulled his trousers up to his waist.
“That’s because my favorite Roma appears when I do it,” he said, and he sat down and placed Romano’s legs over his lap, stroking his thigh. “You see? We both got what we wanted.”
“How’d you know I wanted that?” Romano murmured as he closed his eyes again.
“You told me yesterday, remember? You yelled it at me when you were mad at me after picking me up from the airport,” Antonio commented. He smirked. “Besides, that’s just a little taste of what I thought we’d do later, Romano.” Romano rolled his eyes and reluctantly sat up with help from Antonio, gathering his clothes and frowning at the room.
“These plants need to be watered,” he said off-handedly. Spain pulled his shirt back on while staring at the hickies he’d left along Romano’s collarbone.
“Here, how about this: I’ll water them while you start that dinner you said you’d make?” Antonio suggested, handing Romano his shirt. “And put some clothes on.” Romano frowned and took his clothes from Antonio, heading into the kitchen with a huff. Antonio, still shirtless and feeling delighted in the afterglow, searched for a water can, filled it, and watered all the plants that were hungrily soaking up sun in the room. When he was finished he retreated to the kitchen, where Romano had put his clothes back on and was busy boiling water. Although he had the same perma-frown on his face, his body language was much more relaxed, and he practically fell into Antonio’s touch when Antonio came up behind him.
“What are you making for me?” Antonio asked. Romano leaned back against his chest and poured a handful of dried fettuccine into the pot.
“Pasta,” he replied. “I’m lazy.”
“This isn’t news to me,” Antonio said, and he moved away from Romano to inspect the jar of sauce he was using. It had no label; clearly a sauce that either Romano or Feliciano had made themselves.
“It’s a cheese and herb sauce,” Romano explained as he stirred the pasta. “With olive oil, too. And stewed roma tomatoes.”
“Sounds tasty,” Antonio commented, and he flicked the radio on beside the kitchen sink. “Did you make it?”
“My brother did,” Romano explained. “He... he makes it better than I do.”
“He may make the sauce better, but you make the meal far better,” Antonio said, not allowing the slight hesitation in Romano’s voice to glide over him. Romano smiled to himself when he was sure that Antonio wasn’t going to catch it, and left the stove to finish cutting up the vegetables he was adding to the sauce.
“I’m not hungry right now,” Antonio said as he placed the jar on the counter. Romano scoffed and rubbed at his cheek.
“What? You tell me this after I’ve already started? You’re an idiot,” he said, but he continued to cook the pasta anyway.
“It’s okay, when we do want to eat, the pasta will be done and we’ll just have to heat the sauce, it’ll be easy,” Antonio said, and he stood beside Romano as the Italian added salt and pepper into the rolling boil. Romano spent the remainder of the cooking time mumbling to himself about Spanish eating habits, and Antonio left for the sunroom to clean the remainders of their romp from earlier. When he was done he came back into the kitchen to catch Romano covering the pasta and turning off the flame.
“Well, now that dinner is half done, I’m going to go sit over there,” Romano announced. The radio had been playing some classical pieces this entire time, and Romano made a point of turning the volume up as he passed by and flopping down on the couch. He glared at his still-closed laptop and instead put his feet up beside it, grabbing a book from underneath the coffee table and flipping through it. Antonio sat down with two big glasses of wine and wedged himself beside Romano, also propping his feet up, and watching as Romano found a suitable short story to read.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to read you one of the stories out loud?” Antonio asked. Romano blew a raspberry at the idea.
“I’m not a child anymore, Antonio,” he protested.
“I did that just a month ago! You love it,” Antonio pressed. Romano curled his feet underneath himself and looked out the window at the dying sun, trying to figure out exactly where his day went.
“Welllllll... I was actually going to offer to read one to you,” Romano said in a small voice. Antonio’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, instead placing his glass on the table and turning to Romano with the intent to listen.
“Really?”
“Y-yes, now stop talking before I change my mind,” Romano sputtered. “You always do such a good job of telling these stories... I-I can do it, too, you know!”
“I know, I know,” Antonio said, stroking Romano’s cheek. Romano slapped the offending hand away and turned the page, avoiding Antonio’s gaze.
“In the 18th century, there was a lonely man-”
“-named ‘Romano’-“
“-who only had an old apothecary to his name. Fuck you, Antonio!” Romano said, hitting his arm with the book. “I’m trying to read you a story.” Antonio smirked, eyes lidded.
“I know this story, and the protagonist reminds me of you, doesn’t he? Lonely, bitter, and looking for someone to care for him.” Romano raised his eyes to meet Antonio’s, and even though he wanted to punch the other man in his face, he couldn’t stop the warm feeling that rose in his chest as he watched those hazel eyes sweep over his face. Antonio’s smile faded as he noticed how serious Romano looked, and their eyes locked. Neither could look away, although Romano desperately wanted to. How long had he been ensnared within those brilliant eyes? One hundred, two hundred years? Five hundred years? One thousand? Did it even matter anymore?
“I love you,” Romano suddenly blurted out, although he immediately covered his face with the book. Antonio reeled back as if he had been slapped, opened his mouth, closed it, and just stared at Romano, who was now reduced to a quivering mass behind his book.
“I love you, too,” Antonio responded, and he reached out and lowered the book to see Romano’s eyes wide. Antonio licked his lips and slid his hand down to Romano’s, lacing their fingers together and giving Romano’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You can finish the story, I promise I’ll be quiet.” Romano finally tore his gaze from his lover’s face and returned to the book.
“...He hadn’t always been lonely, but times had changed and he was left with just one house, a garden, and a series of jars, one of which contained a human heart.” Romano looked up at Antonio.
“It’s his wife’s heart,” Romano said.
“I know,” Antonio said, and he leaned in slowly, slow enough that Romano closed his eyes and was taken aback when Antonio pressed his gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t nearly as intoxicating or lusty as the previous ones had been, but this time, it was just pressing together, moving their lips at the same time, embracing each other in their favorite way of all.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Spain and Romano; SpaMano
Rating: light R
Warnings: cursing and non-descript sex
Summary: A simple day in the life of Antonio and Romano.
Notes: Kink meme de-anon. Yep, more of these. Have I mentioned how much I love filling in the kink meme? Anyway, this was one I did just before leaving the States for the UK. I procrastinated on a million things with this. Just a side note; I always use 'Romano' whether I'm using human or nation names, because I just really, really don't like 'Lovino'. That's all.
~*~
The morning started with the sun. As always, it dappled through the curtains, lending light to the sleep-darkened upper bedroom of the villa. And, as always, Antonio gave a grunt in his throat as light pulled him from slumber, and he opened one eye to see the sunlight trailing along the light blue walls. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, pushing one hand through his tousled hair, and stared at the ceiling, waiting for his vision to come into focus.
As he stared upwards, a warm, soft form beside him wiggled and squirmed, pulling the thin sheet up over its head and scrunching into a ball. Antonio reached over the sheet and gave a slight scratch to a chocolate brown scalp, and a small noise of distaste was made from the sheet.
“Knock ‘t off,” a voice murmured. Antonio dragged his fingertips through the soft hair, and a limp hand swatted at him. “Sleepin’.”
“I see,” Antonio said, and he turned over onto his side and pulled the sheet down to reveal a slumbering Romano. Romano opened one emerald eye and furrowed his brow, but didn’t make to move the sheet.
“Good morning,” Antonio said as a lazy smile spread across his face. Romano closed his eye and curled up closer to Antonio, snaking his hand around the elder’s bicep and pressing his nose against the muscle.
“Morning,” Romano mumbled. Antonio moved his arm, pulling it out of Romano’s grasp but Romano just moved his hand down to Antonio’s wrist, pulling it to his lips and laying sleepy kisses along his knuckles. Antonio’s toes curled against the mattress and his heart thumped in his chest; seeing Romano acting so cute and romantic in the morning made Antonio want to squeal in delight like a child. Romano was always affectionate when left in a sleepy haze, and Antonio closed his eyes and marveled in the circles Romano was pressing into his palm with his thumb.
“It’s time to get up, Roma,” Antonio said, his eyes never straying from Romano’s closed ones. Romano said nothing, only curling his fingers between Antonio’s and burying his face into the pillow. “Roma, don’t you want breakfast? Some brioche and a cappuccino, perhaps?” Romano made a grunting sound but continued to at least feign sleep as Antonio made to get out of the bed.
“Nghh,” Romano murmured, and even though Antonio was sliding out of the sheets, Romano had a firm grip on his hand. “Don’t go.”
“Romano, I’m starving, and you wouldn’t want Feli to come home and eat the entire brioche, now would you?” Antonio asked, and he lifted Romano’s free hand and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Reluctantly, Romano released Antonio’s hand and it fell back to the bed as Romano rolled over and stretched his arms wide, attempting to wake up. Antonio gave Romano a gentle smile and left the room to head to the grandiose kitchen in the heart of the villa.
Roughly twenty minutes later the aroma of the freshly brewed cappuccino lured Romano downstairs, and the brioche was waiting on a plate on one side of the kitchen island. Romano rubbed his eyes and sat down, taking the mug in hand and taking a deep, hearty gulp from the caffeinated beverage.
“What’re you making?” Romano inquired as he noticed Antonio at the stove. Antonio turned and flashed him a grin as he made to put the milk back into the refrigerator.
“I found some stale bread, so I made torrijas,” the Spaniard explained as he dished the sweet onto a plate. Romano frowned through a mouthful of brioche but Antonio just smiled as he brought the plate over, placing a mug of coffee beside his plate as he sat across from Romano.
“So, tell me, where is your brother?” Antonio asked as Romano drank some more of his cappuccino. Romano grunted and rolled his eyes.
“He’s in his old house in Venice, on a ‘romantic work getaway’,” Romano said, staring at his mug. “He goes there when he has a lot of work to do sometimes, but this time Ludwig went with him. I know they’re supposed to dine with Francis and Angelique at some point. I don’t know, he does whatever he pleases,” Romano said, and he grumpily finished the mug and went to the fridge for orange juice. He poured himself a glass, picked up the remaining brioche and sighed.
It was just a normal Saturday in Rome for them. With Feliciano gone for four days, Antonio jumped at the chance to spend a weekend away from his own boss and be with Romano, even if it meant doing work.
“I have a conference call,” Romano said sullenly. “Stupid, dumbass prime minister of the United Kingdom. And my boss. They want to talk to me about all the agriculture and the poverty and shit like that.” Romano scoffed. “But since Feliciano is the precious north he doesn’t have to be here for the call, so he was able to escape up to his little fairy island with rivers for roads.” Antonio snickered as Romano took a long drink from his juice. “Stupid crap. And it’s Saturday, too.”
“I have work to do as well,” Antonio said, and he stood and walked around to where Romano was standing, leaning against the kitchen island and taking Romano’s hand in his own. “I have reports to write, things to look over, phone calls to make today.”
“I wonder what it would be like to not have to work every single day,” Romano mused darkly. “Remember the days when being a nation didn’t mean being in an office all hours of the day, every day?”
“You mean when it meant spending your days attempting to form a definitive culture and spending every moment terrified of being conquered?” Antonio said, raising his eyebrows and taking Romano’s orange juice from his hands. Romano scowled. He swiped the glass and Antonio grinned.
“Go eat your stupid stale milk bread,” Romano said as he headed for the living room, gathering his laptop from an end table along with his cellphone. Antonio cleaned the kitchen while Romano showered, dressed, and prepared for his conference call. When Antonio entered the living room with his own laptop and a bag of reports to read over, Romano was sitting in the far end of the room, sitting on the floor with his laptop on the coffee table, dressed in a peasant shirt with charcoal colored trousers and black socks. He had his phone on the table beside him, frowning at the screen, and every once in a while chewing at what brioche was left.
“How long is your call?” Antonio asked. Romano shrugged.
“Until at least early afternoon, I know that much,” Romano offered. Antonio grinned and took up residence in his favorite arm chair, over by the window that looked out into the courtyard. At that moment there was a small mew and Gino wandered into the room, looking slightly lost. Gino sat on his haunches and meowed once more in the direction of Romano, who frowned at the cat.
“Feliciano will be back, don’t look at me like that,” Romano said. Gino responded by licking his paw and wiping his ear. Gino then pattered across the floor to where Antonio was sitting and rubbed his leg, purring happily at the sight of the other nation. Antonio scratched behind Gino’s ears.
“Ah, Gino, you are always so nice to me,” Antonio said. “Where is your brother, Gino?”
“Elio is probably sleeping,” Romano said, not looking up from his computer. “He- oh shit,” Romano murmured, and his phone began ringing. He pulled out his headset and sighed. “Okay, this is it, no one talk to me for the next... however long this lasts.”
“I’ll have a big lunch ready when you’re done,” Antonio said, making room in the chair for Gino to sit beside him. Romano rubbed his temple and answered the call.
“Pronto? Oh, buongiorno, signor Cameron.”
Antonio read over reports while gently scratching Gino’s head and listening to Romano force himself to be polite to the Prime Minster of England. Elio eventually appeared from the depths of the house to join Antonio and his brother, although Elio wanted all of Antonio’s attention for himself. When Antonio stood to start making lunch, Elio practically shoved Gino out of the way so he could follow Antonio’s heels closely, although that caused Gino to start meowing and Romano threw a pillow at him from across the room.
It wasn’t until close to one thirty in the afternoon that Romano made like he was going to be done soon. Antonio’s stomach was rumbling and he was eager to eat the food he’d been preparing. Although he was tempted to eat without Romano, he wanted Romano to be sated and happy with him so they could take a siesta together afterwards.
When Romano finally hung up the phone, he was rubbing at his forehead. Antonio brought him over some of the food he’d made and a glass of wine.
“That phone call sounded very tiresome,” Antonio noted as he sat down on the carpet beside Romano, handing him a bowl.
“It sucked, and... you made paella?” Romano said, poking it with his fork. “I thought you didn’t like making paella.”
“I know you love it, so I thought I would,” Antonio said. “There’s cochillo and flan as well.” Romano ate a bite of the dish as his ears turned red from embarrassment.
“Shrimp,” Romano noted. “And pork.” Antonio took a bite of his and flashed a smile towards Romano, who only stared at his bowl. Antonio loved it when Romano was embarrassed and flustered into awkward silence, because Romano just wasn’t sure how to show gratitude.
“It’s good.”
“I know, Roma,” Antonio said, pleased that Romano enjoyed it so much. Although Antonio went back for the other courses, Romano just ate the paella and was happy with it. After their meal, Romano sat on the couch, leaning on the armrest, blinking lazily into the midday sunlight that was shining through the window. He glanced at the stack of work still left for him to do, but with that frustrating conference call finally done with, the pile somehow seemed smaller than before.
“Is Roma tired?” Antonio asked, placing his laptop beside Romano’s on the coffee table.
“Food coma,” was all Romano said in response. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning heavily on his wrist. Antonio took Romano in his arms and laid him against his chest, laying them both down along the length of the couch. Romano protested at first, grabbing onto Antonio’s arms and pulling them away, but once he was lying down with his head over Antonio’s heart, his eyelids fluttered and his breathing evened. Antonio rubbed small circles into his shoulders and neck, and nuzzled Romano’s sweetly-scented hair.
“The sunlight is warm, isn’t it?” Antonio noted as he closed his own eyes. Romano laced his fingers with Antonio’s and laid his ear over Antonio’s heart, listening to the steady thump. It was a familiar sound that Romano had been lured to sleep with many times before, and just hearing the languid beats made him feel tired.
“Mmm,” Romano murmured.
“How was your meeting? Did you get much accomplished?”
“Surprisingly... mmyeah,” Romano murmured. “I have to talk about the importance of import/export laws and... and things, at the next World Summit.” Antonio rubbed Romano’s back gently. Romano’s words were becoming less pronounced as he fell into sleep. Antonio was also tired but not nearly as tired as Romano always seemed to be these days.
“With Feliciano?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a great talk, Romano.”
“Mm.”
“You’ll be fantastic, you always are. Just don’t curse as much, alright, Roma? ...Romano?” Antonio was answered with silence. He was lying with his head back, staring at the ceiling, listening to Romano’s breathing. “Roma?” He gave Romano’s back another rub.
“Oh, Romano,” Antonio whispered, noticing the lack of pressure Romano’s fingers were giving his hand. Romano had drifted off on his chest, just as he normally did whenever he was placed there. Just like he had as a baby. Antonio closed his eyes and had visions of a pink, pudgy, white bundle with dark hair and bright eyes, coming to live with him and only being able to sleep when pressed against Antonio’s chest, right over his heart.
Although Romano had drifted off to sleep, Antonio didn’t have so easy, and instead lay in a half-sleep, his mind reeling with economic doubts and worries. Even though he was still plagued by what was happening in the world, being away from his city and his boss made it easier to bear. And anything was easy when Romano was curled up against him.
“I love you, Italia Romano,” Antonio murmured, and Romano shifted gently against him, unconsciously nuzzling his lover’s chest. Antonio wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders and stroked his head, humming softly to himself.
About two hours passed before Romano gave a soft murmur, his legs untangling from Antonio’s. Antonio looked down at Romano as Romano shifted his weight and attempted to roll off of Antonio-only to hit the carpeted floor with a thud.
“Owwwwwwwwww,” Romano groaned, and Antonio snickered as he sat up and extended an arm to help Romano get back on his feet.
“Are you alright, Roma?” Antonio asked. Romano scowled.
“I’m fine. What a wake-up call,” Romano muttered. He stretched his arms and wandered into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the bowl on the counter. Romano groaned as he stretched his lower back and cracked his shoulder blades, staring out the kitchen window.
“I’m going to make dinner tonight,” Romano announced. Antonio stood from the couch and shrugged.
“Alright, sounds good to me, Romano,” Antonio said, walking into the kitchen. He leaned on the counter and smiled lazily at Romano, who had his back to the opposite counter, staring up at the ceiling.
“And now I’m bored,” Romano said. He glared at the ceiling and then turned his glare towards the living room, where his laptop still was. “I don’t want to work anymore. It’s the weekend.”
“Do you have more work? You don’t want to end up doing work on Sunday,” Antonio said. Romano shrugged.
“I have things that I could do, but it’s not urgent enough that I feel a need to go do it,” Romano said, tapping his foot. He then looked at Antonio. “What do you normally do on the weekends?”
“Work, or sleep, or pick produce,” Antonio said. “Or drink. Or I go visit friends. And sometimes-“ he raised his eyebrows-“I spend all day in bed with my Romano.” Romano flushed and frowned.
“Well, we need something to do,” Romano said. He flushed darker as Antonio crossed the kitchen and pulled Romano to his chest, hugging him gently and sliding his hands down Romano’s back.
“We could just do nothing, and be together,” Antonio suggested. That was always his favorite course of action. It was one of the only ways to get Romano to open up about what was bothering him, and Romano was always in a better mood afterwards. “Or... we could always make love.”
“Y-you’re a bastard,” Romano said, but he leaned back against the counter at Antonio’s touch. “In the middle of the day?”
“With the sun shining on us and giving us warmth, it’s the best,” Antonio whispered. Romano took a deep breath and curled his fists into Antonio’s shirt, leaning against his shoulder. Antonio shifted his hips and jutted his thigh between Romano’s legs, causing Romano to squirm and mutter into his torso.
“Well, Roma?” Antonio said, “what do you want to do?”
“Are those my only options?” Romano asked weakly. It was a losing battle on his part, at the moment. Antonio leaned in and kissed Romano’s earlobe, moving to the junction of his jaw and his head, where the skin was taut and sensitive. Romano swallowed and closed his eyes, his breathing becoming shallower and needier.
“We can do whatever you want to,” Antonio whispered. Romano bit his lower lip and glanced at the clock above the stove. It was already quarter-past four, but when Antonio was visiting, dinner was always on the late side anyway.
Antonio ran his hands down over Romano’s perky behind, raising his knee higher so it came in contact with Romano’s groin, and Romano buckled under the sensation running up his spine.
“A-alright, fine,” Romano said, trying to sound annoyed but sounding desperate instead. Antonio hugged him tighter and lifted him up into his arms, throwing him unceremoniously over his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Romano cried as he was suddenly face-to-face with Antonio’s butt. Antonio laughed and held onto Romano’s slim waist as he exited the kitchen and headed towards the sun room, which had a few chairs, a long, low couch and was made of mostly glass, allowing the sun to shine in from all directions. It also doubled as a green house, as it was where the Italian brothers kept their own produce garden, making suitable, leafy walls around the glass windows. Antonio let Romano down onto the floor, where Romano fell over as he tried to regain his footing and Antonio just laughed, grinning down at Romano.
“You’re an asshole,” Romano muttered as he pushed himself up, grabbing the front of Antonio’s shirt and pulling him flush against his chest. “What if I don’t want to do it in here? Didn’t you say whatever I want to?”
“Roma, I know you inside and out,” Antonio said, and his grin turned into a devilish smile. “And you know as well as I do that you don’t care where you’re doing it, as long as you feel good and all the attention is on you.” Romano flushed again at that, sliding his arms around Antonio’s neck and gripping a bit too tightly onto the elder nation.
“Whatever,” he muttered before smashing his lips against Antonio’s. Antonio purred into Romano’s mouth, pleased at the familiar taste of wine and oranges, and backed Romano up until he was falling backwards onto the sofa, one of Romano’s hands on the back of his neck and the other pulling the front of his shirt. Antonio straddled Romano and leaned over, turning his head and kissing deeper, using his tongue to tease the inside of his mouth and running his hands down Romano’s waist.
“You see? You’re already hard and we just got here,” Antonio said, opening his eyes to face Romano. Romano whined as Antonio pulled away and glared at him, wrapping his thin legs around Antonio’s waist.
“Okay, fine, maybe you know everything about me, like I even fucking care,” Romano said, “as long as you cut the shit.” Antonio chuckled and pressed his lips to Romano’s, grinding against the younger nation and sliding his hands under the lip of his trousers.
When the clothes were shucked and Romano’s body was so heightened and sensitized that Antonio’s mere breath made him writhe, the sun seemed to intensify and lay a blanket of warmth over them. Romano was laying on his back, head turned to one side, digging his nails into Antonio’s muscled back as Antonio delivered just what he said he would-utmost attention to Romano’s every muscle, every tendon, every nerve and unattended bit of tanned skin. Romano opened his eyes as Antonio’s fingers made him arch his back, and was greeted by the sun shining through the skylight, sending a warm sensation over his bare chest and sweat-soaked face. Antonio didn’t notice, for he was too busy licking a sensitive nipple and trailing down Romano’s chest, until he was waist-height and Romano curled his toes at the feel of wet heat over his member.
With the sun basking on him, and Antonio lavishing him with his stupid, wonderful mouth and tongue, Romano decided to do a little something for Antonio, and started vocalizing his pleasure because he knew how much Antonio loved it.
“Ohh, Antonio-Espagña,,” Romano murmured, and he felt the smile forming in the corners of Antonio’s lips. “No se detienen, per favor, ohhhh, Espagña!” Soon, Romano lost coherency in his words and he climaxed with Espagña rolling off his tongue, and the feeling of the warm sun on his skin along with the hazy pleasantries of orgasm lingering in his bones, he didn’t even mind finishing Antonio off with a few well-placed strokes and a quick kiss.
“You were rather loud today,” Antonio noted as he stood, running a hand through his hair. Romano was still lying on his back on the couch, his arms above his head, half-smiling with his eyes closed. “Are you listening to me, Roma?”
“Yes, yes,” Romano answered, although his voice sounded distant and dream-like. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Antonio. “You give the best head.” Antonio chuckled and pulled his trousers up to his waist.
“That’s because my favorite Roma appears when I do it,” he said, and he sat down and placed Romano’s legs over his lap, stroking his thigh. “You see? We both got what we wanted.”
“How’d you know I wanted that?” Romano murmured as he closed his eyes again.
“You told me yesterday, remember? You yelled it at me when you were mad at me after picking me up from the airport,” Antonio commented. He smirked. “Besides, that’s just a little taste of what I thought we’d do later, Romano.” Romano rolled his eyes and reluctantly sat up with help from Antonio, gathering his clothes and frowning at the room.
“These plants need to be watered,” he said off-handedly. Spain pulled his shirt back on while staring at the hickies he’d left along Romano’s collarbone.
“Here, how about this: I’ll water them while you start that dinner you said you’d make?” Antonio suggested, handing Romano his shirt. “And put some clothes on.” Romano frowned and took his clothes from Antonio, heading into the kitchen with a huff. Antonio, still shirtless and feeling delighted in the afterglow, searched for a water can, filled it, and watered all the plants that were hungrily soaking up sun in the room. When he was finished he retreated to the kitchen, where Romano had put his clothes back on and was busy boiling water. Although he had the same perma-frown on his face, his body language was much more relaxed, and he practically fell into Antonio’s touch when Antonio came up behind him.
“What are you making for me?” Antonio asked. Romano leaned back against his chest and poured a handful of dried fettuccine into the pot.
“Pasta,” he replied. “I’m lazy.”
“This isn’t news to me,” Antonio said, and he moved away from Romano to inspect the jar of sauce he was using. It had no label; clearly a sauce that either Romano or Feliciano had made themselves.
“It’s a cheese and herb sauce,” Romano explained as he stirred the pasta. “With olive oil, too. And stewed roma tomatoes.”
“Sounds tasty,” Antonio commented, and he flicked the radio on beside the kitchen sink. “Did you make it?”
“My brother did,” Romano explained. “He... he makes it better than I do.”
“He may make the sauce better, but you make the meal far better,” Antonio said, not allowing the slight hesitation in Romano’s voice to glide over him. Romano smiled to himself when he was sure that Antonio wasn’t going to catch it, and left the stove to finish cutting up the vegetables he was adding to the sauce.
“I’m not hungry right now,” Antonio said as he placed the jar on the counter. Romano scoffed and rubbed at his cheek.
“What? You tell me this after I’ve already started? You’re an idiot,” he said, but he continued to cook the pasta anyway.
“It’s okay, when we do want to eat, the pasta will be done and we’ll just have to heat the sauce, it’ll be easy,” Antonio said, and he stood beside Romano as the Italian added salt and pepper into the rolling boil. Romano spent the remainder of the cooking time mumbling to himself about Spanish eating habits, and Antonio left for the sunroom to clean the remainders of their romp from earlier. When he was done he came back into the kitchen to catch Romano covering the pasta and turning off the flame.
“Well, now that dinner is half done, I’m going to go sit over there,” Romano announced. The radio had been playing some classical pieces this entire time, and Romano made a point of turning the volume up as he passed by and flopping down on the couch. He glared at his still-closed laptop and instead put his feet up beside it, grabbing a book from underneath the coffee table and flipping through it. Antonio sat down with two big glasses of wine and wedged himself beside Romano, also propping his feet up, and watching as Romano found a suitable short story to read.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to read you one of the stories out loud?” Antonio asked. Romano blew a raspberry at the idea.
“I’m not a child anymore, Antonio,” he protested.
“I did that just a month ago! You love it,” Antonio pressed. Romano curled his feet underneath himself and looked out the window at the dying sun, trying to figure out exactly where his day went.
“Welllllll... I was actually going to offer to read one to you,” Romano said in a small voice. Antonio’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, instead placing his glass on the table and turning to Romano with the intent to listen.
“Really?”
“Y-yes, now stop talking before I change my mind,” Romano sputtered. “You always do such a good job of telling these stories... I-I can do it, too, you know!”
“I know, I know,” Antonio said, stroking Romano’s cheek. Romano slapped the offending hand away and turned the page, avoiding Antonio’s gaze.
“In the 18th century, there was a lonely man-”
“-named ‘Romano’-“
“-who only had an old apothecary to his name. Fuck you, Antonio!” Romano said, hitting his arm with the book. “I’m trying to read you a story.” Antonio smirked, eyes lidded.
“I know this story, and the protagonist reminds me of you, doesn’t he? Lonely, bitter, and looking for someone to care for him.” Romano raised his eyes to meet Antonio’s, and even though he wanted to punch the other man in his face, he couldn’t stop the warm feeling that rose in his chest as he watched those hazel eyes sweep over his face. Antonio’s smile faded as he noticed how serious Romano looked, and their eyes locked. Neither could look away, although Romano desperately wanted to. How long had he been ensnared within those brilliant eyes? One hundred, two hundred years? Five hundred years? One thousand? Did it even matter anymore?
“I love you,” Romano suddenly blurted out, although he immediately covered his face with the book. Antonio reeled back as if he had been slapped, opened his mouth, closed it, and just stared at Romano, who was now reduced to a quivering mass behind his book.
“I love you, too,” Antonio responded, and he reached out and lowered the book to see Romano’s eyes wide. Antonio licked his lips and slid his hand down to Romano’s, lacing their fingers together and giving Romano’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You can finish the story, I promise I’ll be quiet.” Romano finally tore his gaze from his lover’s face and returned to the book.
“...He hadn’t always been lonely, but times had changed and he was left with just one house, a garden, and a series of jars, one of which contained a human heart.” Romano looked up at Antonio.
“It’s his wife’s heart,” Romano said.
“I know,” Antonio said, and he leaned in slowly, slow enough that Romano closed his eyes and was taken aback when Antonio pressed his gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t nearly as intoxicating or lusty as the previous ones had been, but this time, it was just pressing together, moving their lips at the same time, embracing each other in their favorite way of all.