somebody waits for you, kiss him once for me
Title: Mistletoe
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Characters: S. Italy, Spain
Pairings: Romano/Dat Ass Lovino/Antonio
Warnings: None
Words: 592
Summary: Human AU. The laundromat on Tuesday mornings was the perfect place to people-watch. Well, person-watch. Well, maybe if Fernandez hadn't had the ass of Adonis then Lovino might have noticed him noticing back. A Christmas hook-up kind of fic snippet.
I wanted to write a fic using a bad holiday pick-up line for counterheist and this is what happened. originally from Tumblr
Mistletoe
Fernandez had an ass hand-sculpted by God, who'd been so distracted admiring the perfection of His masterpiece of rump that He forgot to go back and fill up Fernandez' thick empty skull before sending him on his way. Lovino Vargas could understand the slip-up. He'd almost tossed his carefully-sorted colors in with his whites a dozen times, because Fernandez had bent over to pull his clothes out of a dryer while Lovino was dumping a load into a washer and Lovino, like God, had a keen eye for fine art. Nothing weird or anything.
Alright, so maybe the laundromat on Tuesday mid-mornings wasn't exactly the local art museum. But since Lovino sure as hell didn't see any Romans stepping up to carve Fernandez' ass out of marble to be properly appreciated, where else was he going to see Fernandez wandering back and forth with a plastic cup of cereal in hand and posing occasionally over his laundry basket?
Right in front of Lovino's apartment door, apparently. Though minus the laundry basket.
Lovino stopped in the hall and stared, and not necessarily at Fernandez' ass. Well, yes, that too. Even without the familiar whir and hum of the laundromat in the background, even half-hidden under a winter jacket, Lovino recognized that backside immediately.
"The fuck are you doing?" he asked. "You realize this isn't the building you live in, dipshit." Lovino knew that Fernandez didn't even have enough fuzz between his ears to spark static electricity, but honestly. Fernandez had a fricken label on his laundry basket to remind him where his apartment was.
Fernandez spun around, lighting up like a particularly gaudy Christmas display at dusk, and shoved the scrap of paper he'd been consulting into his pocket. His other hand waved a measuring cup--plastic but no cereal spilling all over the floor, but it was evening after all--at Lovino.
"Obviously!" Fernandez told him. "If it were my building then I couldn't knock on your door."
Lovino ground his teeth, which his little brother always fretted about and told him off for. "Well I'm not home, obviously. The hell do you want?"
Fernandez held out his measuring cup. "I was really hoping you were home because I wanted to ask you, can I borrow some mistletoe? My doctor prescribed it to me for a lack of affection."
Lovino stared. Not at Fernandez' ass, this time, because his rear wasn't turned to him, just his brainless face. Simple and earnest and expectant and, for once, staring right back at Lovino's own. Lovino scowled.
"That's the fucking stupidest--what's wrong with sugar?!" he demanded.
Fernandez looked down into the measuring cup in his hand, then back up at Lovino. "Well when I ask if you're waiting to use the dryer, because you're glaring at me while I get my clothes out, you always say 'Yeah I am so move it, fatass.' And Francis just gave me a tin of Christmas cookies yesterday so I don't really need sugar to bake anything with."
Lovino felt the pressure of a burgeoning headache swelling behind his eyes. But, like God, Lovino had a weakness for pure, flawless art. And a tendency to screw up.
He pulled his key out of his coat pocket. "Just--whatever. Fine. Maybe I'll let you borrow a cup of coffee instead, if you'll stop blocking my door and move the fuck out of my way already, fatass." Lovino gave said ass a smack when Fernandez didn't shift off his doorstep fast enough.
Well. Maybe God didn't make mistakes after all.
--
Fandom: Hetalia
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Characters: S. Italy, Spain
Pairings: Romano/Dat Ass Lovino/Antonio
Warnings: None
Words: 592
Summary: Human AU. The laundromat on Tuesday mornings was the perfect place to people-watch. Well, person-watch. Well, maybe if Fernandez hadn't had the ass of Adonis then Lovino might have noticed him noticing back. A Christmas hook-up kind of fic snippet.
I wanted to write a fic using a bad holiday pick-up line for counterheist and this is what happened. originally from Tumblr
Mistletoe
Fernandez had an ass hand-sculpted by God, who'd been so distracted admiring the perfection of His masterpiece of rump that He forgot to go back and fill up Fernandez' thick empty skull before sending him on his way. Lovino Vargas could understand the slip-up. He'd almost tossed his carefully-sorted colors in with his whites a dozen times, because Fernandez had bent over to pull his clothes out of a dryer while Lovino was dumping a load into a washer and Lovino, like God, had a keen eye for fine art. Nothing weird or anything.
Alright, so maybe the laundromat on Tuesday mid-mornings wasn't exactly the local art museum. But since Lovino sure as hell didn't see any Romans stepping up to carve Fernandez' ass out of marble to be properly appreciated, where else was he going to see Fernandez wandering back and forth with a plastic cup of cereal in hand and posing occasionally over his laundry basket?
Right in front of Lovino's apartment door, apparently. Though minus the laundry basket.
Lovino stopped in the hall and stared, and not necessarily at Fernandez' ass. Well, yes, that too. Even without the familiar whir and hum of the laundromat in the background, even half-hidden under a winter jacket, Lovino recognized that backside immediately.
"The fuck are you doing?" he asked. "You realize this isn't the building you live in, dipshit." Lovino knew that Fernandez didn't even have enough fuzz between his ears to spark static electricity, but honestly. Fernandez had a fricken label on his laundry basket to remind him where his apartment was.
Fernandez spun around, lighting up like a particularly gaudy Christmas display at dusk, and shoved the scrap of paper he'd been consulting into his pocket. His other hand waved a measuring cup--plastic but no cereal spilling all over the floor, but it was evening after all--at Lovino.
"Obviously!" Fernandez told him. "If it were my building then I couldn't knock on your door."
Lovino ground his teeth, which his little brother always fretted about and told him off for. "Well I'm not home, obviously. The hell do you want?"
Fernandez held out his measuring cup. "I was really hoping you were home because I wanted to ask you, can I borrow some mistletoe? My doctor prescribed it to me for a lack of affection."
Lovino stared. Not at Fernandez' ass, this time, because his rear wasn't turned to him, just his brainless face. Simple and earnest and expectant and, for once, staring right back at Lovino's own. Lovino scowled.
"That's the fucking stupidest--what's wrong with sugar?!" he demanded.
Fernandez looked down into the measuring cup in his hand, then back up at Lovino. "Well when I ask if you're waiting to use the dryer, because you're glaring at me while I get my clothes out, you always say 'Yeah I am so move it, fatass.' And Francis just gave me a tin of Christmas cookies yesterday so I don't really need sugar to bake anything with."
Lovino felt the pressure of a burgeoning headache swelling behind his eyes. But, like God, Lovino had a weakness for pure, flawless art. And a tendency to screw up.
He pulled his key out of his coat pocket. "Just--whatever. Fine. Maybe I'll let you borrow a cup of coffee instead, if you'll stop blocking my door and move the fuck out of my way already, fatass." Lovino gave said ass a smack when Fernandez didn't shift off his doorstep fast enough.
Well. Maybe God didn't make mistakes after all.
--