(no subject)
Who: North Italy/Feliciano Vargas and South Italy/Romano Vargas
What: Eating pasta. Having epic fights over Germany. Cursing the existence of potatoes. Being awesome(ly Italian.)
When: Saturday evening and Sunday morning
Where: At home, which is Austria's house
Warnings: Chances are, there will be foul language. ETA: Incest.
Status: In progress
Feliciano was happy. He was perfectly, completely, utterly happy. He was so happy, he felt that if Russia suddenly appeared in his kitchen, he would give a hug and invite him for dinner. That was silly, of course, because he was almost certain Russia wasn't in Ruby City - fortunately, Russia's scary! - and he was absolutely certain Lovino would smack him for inviting Russia for dinner.
Feliciano giggled, even the thought of Lovino's anger couldn't spoil his good mood. He twirled around and laughed, then came to a stop in front of the boiling pot of pasta again. He stirred in the pot with the wooden spoon, decided they're coming along fine and went right back to what he had been doing before - waving around said wooden spoon like a baton as he hummed and sang whatever came to mind. The odd line from a song he liked or just something he made up on the spot, it didn't matter.
Oh yes, Feliciano was happy. His brother was here, Germany was here and the war was far away, how could he not be happy?
A tiny frown flickered over his face as worrisome thoughts gnawed at him. Thoughts such as Ludwig and Lovino not getting along or that the war would supposedly be lost, but he quickly shoved them away before any more such nasty thoughts could pop up. Everything was going to be just fine. He would make it so. He just had to try hard enough and everyone would be happy.
He cooed at the bubbling pasta sauce.
What: Eating pasta. Having epic fights over Germany. Cursing the existence of potatoes. Being awesome(ly Italian.)
When: Saturday evening and Sunday morning
Where: At home, which is Austria's house
Warnings: Chances are, there will be foul language. ETA: Incest.
Status: In progress
Feliciano was happy. He was perfectly, completely, utterly happy. He was so happy, he felt that if Russia suddenly appeared in his kitchen, he would give a hug and invite him for dinner. That was silly, of course, because he was almost certain Russia wasn't in Ruby City - fortunately, Russia's scary! - and he was absolutely certain Lovino would smack him for inviting Russia for dinner.
Feliciano giggled, even the thought of Lovino's anger couldn't spoil his good mood. He twirled around and laughed, then came to a stop in front of the boiling pot of pasta again. He stirred in the pot with the wooden spoon, decided they're coming along fine and went right back to what he had been doing before - waving around said wooden spoon like a baton as he hummed and sang whatever came to mind. The odd line from a song he liked or just something he made up on the spot, it didn't matter.
Oh yes, Feliciano was happy. His brother was here, Germany was here and the war was far away, how could he not be happy?
A tiny frown flickered over his face as worrisome thoughts gnawed at him. Thoughts such as Ludwig and Lovino not getting along or that the war would supposedly be lost, but he quickly shoved them away before any more such nasty thoughts could pop up. Everything was going to be just fine. He would make it so. He just had to try hard enough and everyone would be happy.
He cooed at the bubbling pasta sauce.