Romano’s nostrils flare, and he looks out over the ocean. He straightens his back, tucks his hands into his pockets. “Why are you asking?” he says instead, and even though his own voice sounds like a piece of gravel is stuck in his Adam’s apple, he’s at least acting more level-headed. “Aren’t you just here to help give me advice on this person that I’m supposed to be courting?”
And France--damn him, damn him and his hair and the way he throws his head back and just laughs, the sound flitting about the deck and turning a few heads. “Well said!” France says, throwing an arm around Romano’s shoulder and pulling him close. “You’re entirely right. Forgive me for forgetting.”
And just before pride replaces blood in Romano’s veins, as the ship harbors on Liberty Isle and people prepare to disembark, he’s one-upped again. France pulls him even closer and whispers in Romano’s ear as they walk off the boat.
“And if you are courting, it is always best to answer questions honestly, instead of answering with a question.”
Romano pretends that France’s whisper was lost in the hubbub around them, which he is aware is rather low of him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He walks out of France’s hold, and then turns around.
“You’ve been here before, so show me around,” he huffs. “That way when I bring my real date I’ll be able to give them the tour.”
France tuts and shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Yes, of course. Right this way, sir.”
France leads him up to the Statue of Liberty, and Romano can’t help but notice the warmth in his face as he looks up at the teal woman. He understands the feeling; he feels this way every time he looks at one of Italy’s masterpieces in a foreign gallery, but he can only imagine it must be ten-fold, given this was always meant as a gift.
“So you were the parent who bribed America with toys and ladies?”
France looks back at Romano, puzzled for a moment, and then he gets it and laughs.
“No, no, we both did our fair share of that. But, I was the one who wasn’t afraid to reward him.”
“Was this one of those rewards?” Romano asks, sticking his hands in his pockets and gazing skyward with France. There are no stars here in New York, he thinks--just steady, unblinking neon and glass tubing. He misses his sky, comforts himself in that he will be underneath it again tomorrow.
“Non. This was merely a gift,” France says, and Romano looks over at France--and in an instant, realizes that he can’t see the stars because they’re trapped on Francis’s eyes.
And fuck, even Feliciano would laugh at that.
“Did you know she was not always green?” France asks, and his voice has gotten even gentler, if at all possible, so that Romano has to move closer to hear. “When she came here, she was--well, not gold. But her skin was a sunset orange, and she shone with the sun’s fire in the day, glowed with her at twilight.”
Romano turns his head and squints--it’s hard to imagine this lady shining in the sunlight when she wears her green with such dignity. “What happened to her?” Romano asks, and France sighs in his ear, the sound bringing to mind drooping shoulders and fading smiles.
“Time, dear Romano,” France says. “Time happened to her. Acid rains, regular rains...It all collected on her skin, and she changed.”
And Romano wonders if France is talking about the Lady.
“But she still looks very beautiful,” he replies, just in case. France looks proud, and maybe even a little pleased, as he takes hold of Romano’s hand. There is the beginning of a long staircase before them, and off to the side the entrance to a museum.
Predictably, France pulls them towards the staircase. He climbs it with an elegant ease, and even though Nations aren’t prone to the same tire as normal humans, Romano is huffing by the time they get as high as they can go.
“What’s...what’s up here?” Romano pants, and his hand clings to France’s by the very tips of his fingers. France says nothing, merely looking down at him and grinning. They continue to climb, instead, up and up and--
And then Romano blinks as they stumble out into the sunlight, blinking, and he finds the whole of New York City and the ocean spread out beneath them.
And Then They All Fucked, And Made Everything Worse: The Fanfic [5g/?]
And France--damn him, damn him and his hair and the way he throws his head back and just laughs, the sound flitting about the deck and turning a few heads. “Well said!” France says, throwing an arm around Romano’s shoulder and pulling him close. “You’re entirely right. Forgive me for forgetting.”
And just before pride replaces blood in Romano’s veins, as the ship harbors on Liberty Isle and people prepare to disembark, he’s one-upped again. France pulls him even closer and whispers in Romano’s ear as they walk off the boat.
“And if you are courting, it is always best to answer questions honestly, instead of answering with a question.”
Romano pretends that France’s whisper was lost in the hubbub around them, which he is aware is rather low of him, but he can’t bring himself to care. He walks out of France’s hold, and then turns around.
“You’ve been here before, so show me around,” he huffs. “That way when I bring my real date I’ll be able to give them the tour.”
France tuts and shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Yes, of course. Right this way, sir.”
France leads him up to the Statue of Liberty, and Romano can’t help but notice the warmth in his face as he looks up at the teal woman. He understands the feeling; he feels this way every time he looks at one of Italy’s masterpieces in a foreign gallery, but he can only imagine it must be ten-fold, given this was always meant as a gift.
“So you were the parent who bribed America with toys and ladies?”
France looks back at Romano, puzzled for a moment, and then he gets it and laughs.
“No, no, we both did our fair share of that. But, I was the one who wasn’t afraid to reward him.”
“Was this one of those rewards?” Romano asks, sticking his hands in his pockets and gazing skyward with France. There are no stars here in New York, he thinks--just steady, unblinking neon and glass tubing. He misses his sky, comforts himself in that he will be underneath it again tomorrow.
“Non. This was merely a gift,” France says, and Romano looks over at France--and in an instant, realizes that he can’t see the stars because they’re trapped on Francis’s eyes.
And fuck, even Feliciano would laugh at that.
“Did you know she was not always green?” France asks, and his voice has gotten even gentler, if at all possible, so that Romano has to move closer to hear. “When she came here, she was--well, not gold. But her skin was a sunset orange, and she shone with the sun’s fire in the day, glowed with her at twilight.”
Romano turns his head and squints--it’s hard to imagine this lady shining in the sunlight when she wears her green with such dignity. “What happened to her?” Romano asks, and France sighs in his ear, the sound bringing to mind drooping shoulders and fading smiles.
“Time, dear Romano,” France says. “Time happened to her. Acid rains, regular rains...It all collected on her skin, and she changed.”
And Romano wonders if France is talking about the Lady.
“But she still looks very beautiful,” he replies, just in case. France looks proud, and maybe even a little pleased, as he takes hold of Romano’s hand. There is the beginning of a long staircase
before them, and off to the side the entrance to a museum.
Predictably, France pulls them towards the staircase. He climbs it with an elegant ease, and even though Nations aren’t prone to the same tire as normal humans, Romano is huffing by the time they get as high as they can go.
“What’s...what’s up here?” Romano pants, and his hand clings to France’s by the very tips of his fingers. France says nothing, merely looking down at him and grinning. They continue to climb, instead, up and up and--
And then Romano blinks as they stumble out into the sunlight, blinking, and he finds the whole of New York City and the ocean spread out beneath them.