Tesoro
TITLE; Tesoro
PAIRINGS; Spain/Belgium, Romano cameo
RATING; G
SUMMARY; Fill for fayles' request at hetalia_het's Winter Exchange. Belgium finds she means a little more to Spain than she'd imagined.
When she was younger and still living in his house, Belgium had had a girlish crush on Spain.
How could she have not? He was always cheerful and kind to her. Even now he'd have a compliment for her whenever their paths crossed.
"Ay, senorita! You look gorgeous today!"
But as much as the flattery made her blush (and she matched his beloved tomatoes when she did) Belgium knew that they were devoid of specialty. He meant every words, but he also said it to everyone.
The knowledge had hurt her when she'd first realized that she wasn't significant to Spain. But time had dulled the pain, and Belgium was intensely grateful to have such a friend.
Still, she couldn't keep her heart from fluttering pathetically whenever he smiled.
•••
In the summer, Romano's former family descended upon his country to help him harvest lemons from the orchards. It was a tradition complained about loudly by both Romano and Belgium, although neither had ever been missing from it. Their heel-dragging suspiciously disappeared once among the trees.
This year the Italy had been charged with bringing the full baskets home. Such trips took an eternity for the simply reason that their 'pack mule' took his sweet time, dammit.
While he was gone, Spain and Belgium moved on to the next tree, an ancient monster whose branches all seemed intentionally positioned to be unreachable from a ladder.
"I've got this one." she said, tugging the ladder out of Spain's hands and leaning it up against the gnarled trunk.
"Are you sure?" he replied, eying some of the older boughs dubiously.
She called down in the affirmative, but it made no difference; by the time Belgium had naswered she was lost in the tangle of leaves and fruit.
There was no time for further argument because lemons began raining down on Spain, who dutifully scooped it up, albeit without the sunny chatter he'd been spouting the whole day.
The silence wasn't lost on Belgium, who addressed him as she crawled out of the main tree to a branch.
"I'm not a kid anymore, I know when not to go further. You can stop worrying. Besides, we climb this tree every year and nothing ever happens!"
Her reassurances elicited no reply; Spain only frowned more deeply and bent to pick up a stray piece of fruit.
She huffed, then let it go. If he wanted to make himself sick with unfounded worry, she couldn't stop him. There were more important things to focus on, like the final lemon in the tree.
It was tantalizingly just out of her grasp, prompting the nation to make some very strange faces at the inanimate object. Bunching up her legs, Belgium slunk along the branch, stopping only a few inches from the end.
Plucking the wayward produce from its spot, she laughed triumphantly and sat up.
Suddenly there was an ominous crack. The next thing she knew, Belgium was hurtling through the air and landing with an undignified whump on something soft.
She groaned, too much in shock to sit up fully. Instead she merely turned her head to look for Spain; after all of those warnings he was bound to be having an apoplexy close by.
He was nowhere in sight, much to her consternation. Just as she was about to roust herself to go find the other nation (whose lack of concern over her tumble stung a bit. her neck could have snapped!) a quiet moan came from Belgium's safety cushion.
The 'something soft' that she'd landed on was Spain. Scampering off him to the grass nearby, Belgium tentatively patted him on the cheek.
The touch seemed to revive him, and the nation grinned brilliantly at her before sitting up.
"That was close! You almost got really hurt."
A lump was forming inexplicably in Belgium's throat. All she could manage to respond with with was "You spilled your basket."
He laughed and waved the question away with his hand.
"It doesn't matter. I had to save my most precious treasure."
Only words, they were only words. Still, she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek in thanks.
"You're sweet."
Out of nowhere one of Spain's hands shot out and cupped Belgium's face, pulling her in for a deeper kiss. He was warm, very warm; she suspected such prolonged contact would melt an organ or two, brain first.
Spain lingered close after breaking away, his breath sending tingles down her spine with each puff.
"Sweeter." he murmured, gently touching their foreheads together.
Breathing was difficult and hindered her for a moment, but finally Belgium was recovered enough to yell out and hurl her arms around the other nation. The force of the action threw the two back onto the ground in a giggling heap.
He was affectionate to everyone. She was nothing special.
For the first time in her existence, Belgium reveled in the feeling of being wrong.
•••
"Dammit, what the fuck is wrong with you two? The hell are you good for, rolling around in my damn lemons like that?"
Hope you like it, fayles! I wrote this during my math class rather than listen to my nutty teacher, so thank you for giving me something productive to do.
PAIRINGS; Spain/Belgium, Romano cameo
RATING; G
SUMMARY; Fill for fayles' request at hetalia_het's Winter Exchange. Belgium finds she means a little more to Spain than she'd imagined.
When she was younger and still living in his house, Belgium had had a girlish crush on Spain.
How could she have not? He was always cheerful and kind to her. Even now he'd have a compliment for her whenever their paths crossed.
"Ay, senorita! You look gorgeous today!"
But as much as the flattery made her blush (and she matched his beloved tomatoes when she did) Belgium knew that they were devoid of specialty. He meant every words, but he also said it to everyone.
The knowledge had hurt her when she'd first realized that she wasn't significant to Spain. But time had dulled the pain, and Belgium was intensely grateful to have such a friend.
Still, she couldn't keep her heart from fluttering pathetically whenever he smiled.
•••
In the summer, Romano's former family descended upon his country to help him harvest lemons from the orchards. It was a tradition complained about loudly by both Romano and Belgium, although neither had ever been missing from it. Their heel-dragging suspiciously disappeared once among the trees.
This year the Italy had been charged with bringing the full baskets home. Such trips took an eternity for the simply reason that their 'pack mule' took his sweet time, dammit.
While he was gone, Spain and Belgium moved on to the next tree, an ancient monster whose branches all seemed intentionally positioned to be unreachable from a ladder.
"I've got this one." she said, tugging the ladder out of Spain's hands and leaning it up against the gnarled trunk.
"Are you sure?" he replied, eying some of the older boughs dubiously.
She called down in the affirmative, but it made no difference; by the time Belgium had naswered she was lost in the tangle of leaves and fruit.
There was no time for further argument because lemons began raining down on Spain, who dutifully scooped it up, albeit without the sunny chatter he'd been spouting the whole day.
The silence wasn't lost on Belgium, who addressed him as she crawled out of the main tree to a branch.
"I'm not a kid anymore, I know when not to go further. You can stop worrying. Besides, we climb this tree every year and nothing ever happens!"
Her reassurances elicited no reply; Spain only frowned more deeply and bent to pick up a stray piece of fruit.
She huffed, then let it go. If he wanted to make himself sick with unfounded worry, she couldn't stop him. There were more important things to focus on, like the final lemon in the tree.
It was tantalizingly just out of her grasp, prompting the nation to make some very strange faces at the inanimate object. Bunching up her legs, Belgium slunk along the branch, stopping only a few inches from the end.
Plucking the wayward produce from its spot, she laughed triumphantly and sat up.
Suddenly there was an ominous crack. The next thing she knew, Belgium was hurtling through the air and landing with an undignified whump on something soft.
She groaned, too much in shock to sit up fully. Instead she merely turned her head to look for Spain; after all of those warnings he was bound to be having an apoplexy close by.
He was nowhere in sight, much to her consternation. Just as she was about to roust herself to go find the other nation (whose lack of concern over her tumble stung a bit. her neck could have snapped!) a quiet moan came from Belgium's safety cushion.
The 'something soft' that she'd landed on was Spain. Scampering off him to the grass nearby, Belgium tentatively patted him on the cheek.
The touch seemed to revive him, and the nation grinned brilliantly at her before sitting up.
"That was close! You almost got really hurt."
A lump was forming inexplicably in Belgium's throat. All she could manage to respond with with was "You spilled your basket."
He laughed and waved the question away with his hand.
"It doesn't matter. I had to save my most precious treasure."
Only words, they were only words. Still, she leaned over and pecked him on the cheek in thanks.
"You're sweet."
Out of nowhere one of Spain's hands shot out and cupped Belgium's face, pulling her in for a deeper kiss. He was warm, very warm; she suspected such prolonged contact would melt an organ or two, brain first.
Spain lingered close after breaking away, his breath sending tingles down her spine with each puff.
"Sweeter." he murmured, gently touching their foreheads together.
Breathing was difficult and hindered her for a moment, but finally Belgium was recovered enough to yell out and hurl her arms around the other nation. The force of the action threw the two back onto the ground in a giggling heap.
He was affectionate to everyone. She was nothing special.
For the first time in her existence, Belgium reveled in the feeling of being wrong.
•••
"Dammit, what the fuck is wrong with you two? The hell are you good for, rolling around in my damn lemons like that?"
Hope you like it, fayles! I wrote this during my math class rather than listen to my nutty teacher, so thank you for giving me something productive to do.