Romano huffed and threw his broom to the floor. “I’m sweeping, damn it!” He shouted back. What the fuck was Spain’s problem anyway?!
Spain smacked his forehead. “That’s not how you sweep! You’re just sending the dust flying everywhere!” He walked over and picked up the broom. “Didn’t anyone teach you how to do this? They had to have… Veneziano knows.”
“Veneziano knows,” Romano mocked. He grabbed the broom from Spain’s hands and began to sweep it back and forth with all of his might. No matter how much effort he put into it, though, the dirt was still flying everywhere!
“No no no! Stop! Stop!” Spain rushed over and tried to retrieve the broom again, but Romano held on as tightly as he could. He shrieked as Spain jerked it upwards and Romano went flying with it. His grip wasn’t that good, and he couldn’t support his weight, and soon he was falling and landing hard against the floor. Romano gasped as pain shot up through his spine, and he picked himself up and darted out of the kitchen before Spain could see his tears.
He could hear Spain calling after him, but Romano hid inside a closet before he could find him. He rubbed his bottom and sniffled miserably. He was terrible at being a maid, even when he tried. And Spain yelled at him no matter what, so what point was there in making any effort at all? He already knew Spain wanted Veneziano instead of him. He had known from the beginning that Spain would, but his suspicions were only confirmed when Spain actually said it aloud to Austria. Well, damn it, that was fine with Romano. He didn’t like Spain anyways.
Maybe Spain was mostly nice. And maybe he made Romano really good food with lots of tomatoes, which were Romano’s favorite. Maybe his bedtime stories weren’t the worst, and maybe the game of hide and seek they played the other day was kind of, sort of, a little fun. But Spain didn’t like Romano, and so none of that really mattered. Romano couldn’t like someone who didn’t like him… it just… that just caused his heart to hurt a little too much.
The door opened, and Romano raised his head to meet Spain’s apologetic gaze. “Are you hurt?” Spain asked, anxiety evident in his voice. “I didn’t mean for you to fall like that. I’m so sorry, Romano.” He bent down and held out his arms for a hug. “Forgive me? It’s ok if you don’t know how to sweep. I’ll teach you.”
Romano swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t used to hugging, even though Spain tried to hug him all the time. Grandpa Rome hugged Veneziano a lot more than he hugged Romano, and Austria didn’t hug anyone. Twisting his hands into his skirt nervously, Romano said, “I-I don’t want to hug you, damn it.”
Spain gave Romano a sad smile and dropped his arms. “I understand. Are you ok, though?”
Romano wiped the last of his tears away and nodded. His heart ached more than anything. He kept messing up, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to pack up his things and leave. Spain grasped one of Romano’s hands in his and led him out of the closet.
The two walked along in silence, Romano’s heart fluttering at such warm and affectionate contact, when suddenly Spain stopped and exclaimed, “Oh!” Romano tried to find the source of Spain’s surprise, but suddenly he was scooped up into Spain’s arms, and Spain was smiling at him excitedly. “Romano!” he cried. “Did you do this?” He pointed towards a small vase of flowers that Romano had arranged.
They were wilting a bit, but the colors were bright and Romano thought he had done a pretty good job coordinating them. He nodded, and Spain looked unbelievably pleased.
“Beautiful! I love them!” Spain nuzzled Romano’s cheek, and it instantly caught on fire. He struggled for a moment to get away, but then decided to just let Spain cuddle him. Warmth spread through Romano’s tiny body, and he tentatively leaned his cheek against Spain’s.
Untitled 2b/?
Romano huffed and threw his broom to the floor. “I’m sweeping, damn it!” He shouted back. What the fuck was Spain’s problem anyway?!
Spain smacked his forehead. “That’s not how you sweep! You’re just sending the dust flying everywhere!” He walked over and picked up the broom. “Didn’t anyone teach you how to do this? They had to have… Veneziano knows.”
“Veneziano knows,” Romano mocked. He grabbed the broom from Spain’s hands and began to sweep it back and forth with all of his might. No matter how much effort he put into it, though, the dirt was still flying everywhere!
“No no no! Stop! Stop!” Spain rushed over and tried to retrieve the broom again, but Romano held on as tightly as he could. He shrieked as Spain jerked it upwards and Romano went flying with it. His grip wasn’t that good, and he couldn’t support his weight, and soon he was falling and landing hard against the floor. Romano gasped as pain shot up through his spine, and he picked himself up and darted out of the kitchen before Spain could see his tears.
He could hear Spain calling after him, but Romano hid inside a closet before he could find him. He rubbed his bottom and sniffled miserably. He was terrible at being a maid, even when he tried. And Spain yelled at him no matter what, so what point was there in making any effort at all? He already knew Spain wanted Veneziano instead of him. He had known from the beginning that Spain would, but his suspicions were only confirmed when Spain actually said it aloud to Austria. Well, damn it, that was fine with Romano. He didn’t like Spain anyways.
Maybe Spain was mostly nice. And maybe he made Romano really good food with lots of tomatoes, which were Romano’s favorite. Maybe his bedtime stories weren’t the worst, and maybe the game of hide and seek they played the other day was kind of, sort of, a little fun. But Spain didn’t like Romano, and so none of that really mattered. Romano couldn’t like someone who didn’t like him… it just… that just caused his heart to hurt a little too much.
The door opened, and Romano raised his head to meet Spain’s apologetic gaze. “Are you hurt?” Spain asked, anxiety evident in his voice. “I didn’t mean for you to fall like that. I’m so sorry, Romano.” He bent down and held out his arms for a hug. “Forgive me? It’s ok if you don’t know how to sweep. I’ll teach you.”
Romano swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t used to hugging, even though Spain tried to hug him all the time. Grandpa Rome hugged Veneziano a lot more than he hugged Romano, and Austria didn’t hug anyone. Twisting his hands into his skirt nervously, Romano said, “I-I don’t want to hug you, damn it.”
Spain gave Romano a sad smile and dropped his arms. “I understand. Are you ok, though?”
Romano wiped the last of his tears away and nodded. His heart ached more than anything. He kept messing up, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to pack up his things and leave. Spain grasped one of Romano’s hands in his and led him out of the closet.
The two walked along in silence, Romano’s heart fluttering at such warm and affectionate contact, when suddenly Spain stopped and exclaimed, “Oh!” Romano tried to find the source of Spain’s surprise, but suddenly he was scooped up into Spain’s arms, and Spain was smiling at him excitedly. “Romano!” he cried. “Did you do this?” He pointed towards a small vase of flowers that Romano had arranged.
They were wilting a bit, but the colors were bright and Romano thought he had done a pretty good job coordinating them. He nodded, and Spain looked unbelievably pleased.
“Beautiful! I love them!” Spain nuzzled Romano’s cheek, and it instantly caught on fire. He struggled for a moment to get away, but then decided to just let Spain cuddle him. Warmth spread through Romano’s tiny body, and he tentatively leaned his cheek against Spain’s.
*~*~*