“Mon dieu. Is that the best you’ve got?!” France waved his arm dramatically and rose petals swarmed the group of nations like a small floral tornado.
“Hey! Watch it you stupid perfumed bastard!” Romano shouted. A petal had nailed him in the eye and he was blinking furiously trying to get it out.
Spain must have noticed the binoculars’ special powers because all of a sudden his magnified gaze was firmly situated on Belgium’s chest.
“Er…” Belgium looked uneasy and her brother put a protective arm around her shoulders.
Spain grinned and turned his binocular’d sight on France. “I did it! I got the inside scoop—”
France couldn’t help but grin back. “I knew you would.”
And then the Netherlands plucked the amazing Japanese gadget out of Spain’s hands and tossed it into the sea.
“Oops.” He said unremarkably, and France nearly cried.
“Nooooo!” He dove in after them.
~~~
“Okay, that probably wasn’t the best idea.” Spain told him while ringing out the water in his newly ruined shirt.
France gave up trying to fix his hair in his mirror and was actually considering covering himself with a hat.
“That was one of the most unique treasures I’d ever had in my grasp,” France mourned. “Reading someone’s mind…It could have been so useful.”
“It was only really useful in almost drowning you.” Spain replied in a serious tone. His shirt was beyond help so he just took it off. “If I didn’t jump in to fish you out you’d be halfway to America’s house by now!”
“And think how much fun that would have been with those miraculous binoculars!” France said pitifully.
They’d resurfaced on the dock completely waterlogged to find that the other nations had neatly disappeared.
It wasn’t summer. The seawater was much too cold to go swimming in and France’s teeth chattered together in a really unflattering way. He pulled Spain down to sit next to him and cupped the brunette’s ribs in his cold hand anyway.
Spain didn’t seem to mind, even if he sneezed.
“We should go back to the house and never try to spy ever again.”
France completely agreed.
Spain’s bare arm encircled his shoulders for a moment just rubbing slowly to warm up the French speaking country. France let the warmth creep up inside him, content for once to not have to work for his kicks.
“Oh those binoculars,” Spain said out of the blue, “I think they were broken. Instead of your mind, I think it was reading your heart.”
“…” France had no words at the moment. “What did it say…?”
Spain laughed as if it was obvious, and France felt his heart sink for a second. “You’d have to tell me. It was all written in French!”
Pfft, I love the insanity of this fill so much! Every time I think about it, it just makes me smile. :D Somehow, it taps into the spirit of canon strangely well. <3
I wish I could make a coherent comment, but my thoughts just shut down when I read this: ‘I wish I were different. Oh shit, t-tits!’ Romano's thing for women is so unbelievably funny; I love the ability of the average Italian male to suavely flatter and chat up any lady he sees. I mean, that's kind of a stereotype, but that's Hetalia for you! And it's been true for every Italian guy I've ever met, weirdly enough.
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A Tomato Whose Name I Don't Know Yet 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2010-09-07 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)“Hey! Watch it you stupid perfumed bastard!” Romano shouted. A petal had nailed him in the eye and he was blinking furiously trying to get it out.
Spain must have noticed the binoculars’ special powers because all of a sudden his magnified gaze was firmly situated on Belgium’s chest.
“Er…” Belgium looked uneasy and her brother put a protective arm around her shoulders.
Spain grinned and turned his binocular’d sight on France. “I did it! I got the inside scoop—”
France couldn’t help but grin back. “I knew you would.”
And then the Netherlands plucked the amazing Japanese gadget out of Spain’s hands and tossed it into the sea.
“Oops.” He said unremarkably, and France nearly cried.
“Nooooo!” He dove in after them.
~~~
“Okay, that probably wasn’t the best idea.” Spain told him while ringing out the water in his newly ruined shirt.
France gave up trying to fix his hair in his mirror and was actually considering covering himself with a hat.
“That was one of the most unique treasures I’d ever had in my grasp,” France mourned. “Reading someone’s mind…It could have been so useful.”
“It was only really useful in almost drowning you.” Spain replied in a serious tone. His shirt was beyond help so he just took it off. “If I didn’t jump in to fish you out you’d be halfway to America’s house by now!”
“And think how much fun that would have been with those miraculous binoculars!” France said pitifully.
They’d resurfaced on the dock completely waterlogged to find that the other nations had neatly disappeared.
It wasn’t summer. The seawater was much too cold to go swimming in and France’s teeth chattered together in a really unflattering way. He pulled Spain down to sit next to him and cupped the brunette’s ribs in his cold hand anyway.
Spain didn’t seem to mind, even if he sneezed.
“We should go back to the house and never try to spy ever again.”
France completely agreed.
Spain’s bare arm encircled his shoulders for a moment just rubbing slowly to warm up the French speaking country. France let the warmth creep up inside him, content for once to not have to work for his kicks.
“Oh those binoculars,” Spain said out of the blue, “I think they were broken. Instead of your mind, I think it was reading your heart.”
“…” France had no words at the moment. “What did it say…?”
Spain laughed as if it was obvious, and France felt his heart sink for a second. “You’d have to tell me. It was all written in French!”
Oh. Well that was the language of love.
~~~
End Chapter Five
Re: A Tomato Whose Name I Don't Know Yet 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2010-09-07 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)Re: A Tomato Whose Name I Don't Know Yet 5d/?
(Anonymous) 2010-09-07 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)I wish I could make a coherent comment, but my thoughts just shut down when I read this: ‘I wish I were different. Oh shit, t-tits!’ Romano's thing for women is so unbelievably funny; I love the ability of the average Italian male to suavely flatter and chat up any lady he sees. I mean, that's kind of a stereotype, but that's Hetalia for you! And it's been true for every Italian guy I've ever met, weirdly enough.