Spain x Romano Jealousy
Romano wiped his sweaty brow and looked up at the blazing sun as it tormented him with its heat. It was nice being at Spain's home, but it was a bit of a pain having to wake up early in the morning to harvest Tomatoes. Romano did like Tomatoes, but he preferred eating them to harvesting them. And he was annoyed that he became more like a slave than a guest at Spain's home. He looked over at his Boss whom was picking Tomatoes a few rows away within the field. He was humming to himself as usual, working at a good pace. He did this practically every morning though, so of course the sun and the work wouldn't bother him. But Romano wasn't as used to it, thus his pace was slower and he growled rather than hummed.
"HOW MUCH LONGER DO WE HAVE TO DO THIS, BASTARD?!" He yelled over at Spain. The Spaniard jumped at the sudden outburst, dropping some Tomatoes. Romano could see him heaving a huge sigh to himself.
"As long as it takes to get all these ripe Tomatoes in, Lovi!" He called back, frowning at the Italian's impatience. Romano pouted and turned away from the tanned Spaniard. All he wanted was to finish up, get out of the heat, get away from the flies, and eat some stupid Tomatoes. Why couldn't his Boss grant him that one wish?...Well, there were actually four wishes, but who cared! He was sure Spain wanted to do the same
Spain seemed to rather enjoy harvesting the Tomatoes though. Romano exhaled in defeat. He wanted Spain to be happy, so he supposed that he could just get on with his work like Boss Spain wanted.
"Hey, Romano~" Sang a woman's voice. Romano turned to see Belgium headed towards him. He blushed, remembering the past when he had a huge crush on Belgium. Of course the person he loved now was Spain, but he still had a little soft spot for Belgium.
"I see you've got a big harvest." Said the Belgian woman, peering into Romano's over-flowing basket, "They look so scrumptious!"
"A-Ah. Would you like one?" Romano offered, shyly. He felt a slight blush appearing on his face, so distracting Belgium with Tomatoes would hopefully lead her astray from realisation.
"Oh, can I~?" She squealed in delight, "Thanks so much, Romano!" She examined the basket for a while, causing Romano's arms to ache from holding the heavy basket out for so long. But dammit he refused to drop it! He had to appear manly and strong in front of a lady after all. Finally, much to Romano's joy, Belgium chose a large, vibrant red Tomato. Romano watched as she dug into it, making muffled sounds of pure pleasure. He laughed through his nose at her, smiling a little, his face only partially flushed. For that moment he thought that perhaps he could try going after Belgium again. It wasn't like Spain would ever return his feelings, and he needed to forget his unrequited love, so it was all very logical. Romano opened his mouth to say something more to the Belgian beauty, but his mouth suddenly became clogged by a Tomato that had been shoved into it by a tanned hand; alas all Romano could say was "Mmfph!"
"Ah, Belgy~" Laughed Spain, "So good to see you! How's the Netherlands?"
"Oh, yes! Uh
He's fine, thank you. Um
is Romano okay with you shoving a Tomato in his mouth?"
"Oh, him?" Replied Spain, whacking the Italian's back in a friendly gesture, "Yeah, he loves his Tomatoes. He loves them more than his conversation, which is why he'll be going back to work now. Right, Romano?"
"Good boy, Romano. Away with you now!" Chuckled the Spaniard, ushering the baffled Romano away. Romano could only obey. It was too embarrassing to return to that conversation when Belgium had just witnessed Romano having a Tomato shoved in his face. How dare Spain do that! Well he'd get him back later, after work or something. Romano obediently continued to work, all the while thinking up a cunning, bitter sweet revenge. Spain suspected nothing.
Romano was flicking through the channels on the television when Spain entered the house. The Spaniard sighed at the Italian's inability to choose a programme and stick with it, but he soon replaced his tired frown with a beaming smile.
"Good work in the fields today, Lovi~" He sang, ruffling Romano's hair.
"Get off of me, jackass! Wash your filthy hands before touching me!"
Spain pouted and sauntered into the kitchen, "Fine, I will!" Romano turned the volume of the television down for a moment, listening out for a certain sound. He heard the water pipes rumbling and the water gushing as Spain washed his worn out hands. He then heard Spain whistling as he dried his hands on the towel. Romano recognised the tune as 'The Delicious Tomato Song' that he and Spain had written together. Buono Tomato! Buono Tomato! Buono, buono, ohh~ Tomato! Romano then braced himself as he heard the hum of the fridge as it was opened. All was silent for a moment, until Romano finally heard the sound he had been waiting for.
"AH, LOVI!" Cried Spain. Success! Spain had managed to quickly find his special revenge surprise. He masked his malicious smile and composed himself as he got up from the couch where he lay.
"What is it, bastard?" Asked Romano, entering the kitchen with his usual sour expression planted artfully upon his face.
"L-L-LOVI!" Cried the Spaniard, flustering about in the kitchen like a startled pigeon, "T-There are no Tomatoes left in the fridge! I swear I restocked them just this morning! There must have been a Tomato thief visiting!"
"Oh, that?" Said Romano, coolly, "There was no thief, idiot. I ate all the Tomatoes myself."
"W-Why would you do that?" Sniffed Spain, almost in tears, clutching Romano's blouse.
"I don't know. Maybe because Tomatoes are delicious? And I've been working hard today, so I deserve them."
"Oh, and I HAVEN'T been working hard today?"
"No, you haven't. You were flirting with any women that dared to pass by all day."
"Oh, c'mon! The only woman that passed by was Belgy, and we didn't even talk for that long. I worked just as hard as you, Lovi!"
"As if, bastard. Whatever, I'm going upstairs now." Huffed Romano. As he turned to leave the room a devious smile crept over his lips. His revenge had gone just as planned. Now he had the joy of eating all the Tomatoes and Spain had the sadness of eating none. That should teach him to interrupt him when he was trying to get with a person that wouldn't break his heart into a million pieces and be oblivious to his feelings. He stopped halfway up the stairs and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't surprised to find tears on his sleeves. He had been crying so often lately that tears on his sleeves were a daily-basis thing. Luckily Spain had never noticed them. If he had, and he had questioned them, then Romano may have ended up blurting out all his feelings. If that happened, he wouldn't be able to stand facing Spain again. He would have to leave and never return, which was something he did not want to do. So if he wanted to cry he had to go and do it in private, where nobody would question his motives. Romano shook his head and continued to hurry up the winding, wooden stairs up to his room. He couldn't start crying out in the open. He had to go to his room to do that. He wouldn't want to be a bother to anyone after all; especially not Spain.
After a few minutes of silently wailing into his pillow like a Banshee, Romano had managed to calm down a bit. He rubbed his sore, red eyes and sniffed as he sat on the edge of his bed. His curl was fluxing constantly, receiving the vibrations of his pounding heart. Romano looked out of the window with bleary eyes, looking at the setting sun, watching as the day ended. Romano wished this endless rollercoaster of painful emotions would end just like the day did. If not that, then he wished he could go back in time and stop the younger him from falling in love with the dense Spaniard.
Romano jumped at the sound of the doorbell, his curl straightening out in shock, before proceeding to curl up again as he calmed down. Why did being in love make him so jumpy? Well, they say guilty people are more likely to jump at loud noises, and he HAD eaten all the Tomatoes in the fridge earlier that day, much to Spain's disapproval, so perhaps that was the reason. Romano decided to go back to his thoughts later and first go to see who was at the door.
Romano trudged down the upstairs corridor, looking longingly into Spain's room as he passed it. He wished so much to just clamber onto Spain's bed and inhale the scent of the Spaniard. Tomatoes, Churros, and everlasting fields. That's what he smelt like. And Romano loved that smell so much. Sadly he couldn't chance collapsing onto Spain's bed in case Spain saw him. Then that would lead to questioning, and then arguing, and then wind up with them not talking for a while. And that was something that Romano didn't want. He didn't think he'd survive without hearing Spain's voice as it purred his name, "Lovi~"
Romano shrugged off the urge to bombard Spain's bed with love and carried on ambling down the corridor, heading down the stairs. As he went he wondered who would be calling at this time of day. It could be France or Prussia or both at once. They often came over for a drink as the Bad Friend Trio. Romano scoffed under his breath at their childish gang. If it was them then he would disappear to his room for the rest of the evening and hide in his closet in case France came looking for him. He scowled at the thought of the fabulous Frenchman and his comrade, the egoistic Prussian. Why did Spain like those countries? He sighed as he came to the conclusion that he would never have an answer to that question.
Romano heard muffled voices becoming gradually louder and louder as he continued down the stairs. His ears had picked up on the word "Tomato", as expected of himself. Perhaps Spain was telling the Bad Touch Trio about his lack of Tomatoes, whining like a baby. Romano began to feel guilty. He should seriously try to make it up to Spain for that as he was beginning to feel just a little bit angry with himself. He didn't like it when Spain was sad, so he had to make him happy. Maybe he could make him some Churros like Spain had taught him to do when he was younger. Spain DID say back then that he'd be happy if Romano remembered the recipe, and so, cooking Churros by the recipe would be a great way to apologise to Spain. Romano attempted to remember the recipe as he covered the last few steps of the staircase. He stopped at the second step to the bottom, like he usually did when he was younger and wanted to see who was visiting without having to go and introduce himself. And then, once he'd seen who it was, he used to scurry up back up the stairs and pretend he had never been down there. Romano didn't scurry up the stairs afterwards anymore
Well, not all the time.
Romano held onto the wall for support as he peered over the doorway leading to the porch, keeping his tippy-toes balanced on the step. He was surprised to see that instead of France or Prussia, his brother, Italy, was at the door. He was laughing jovially and seemed to be in good health, much to Romano's relief. Though he was jealous of his younger brother, and angry at him for associating with that Potato loving bastard, he still loved his brother dearly, so it was good to see him. He didn't have anything particular to say to him though, so he stayed hidden by the doorframe, watching as Spain and his brother conversed. Spain also seemed happy - happier than he had seemed in ages. Was it because of Italy? Was he really so happy to see Italy? Romano clenched his fist tightly into an angry ball, digging his nails into the wooden doorframe, his curl twitching agitatedly. Did Spain really like his brother better than him? Romano sent dark waves of anger Spain's way, but it seems the Spaniard did not receive them as he continued laughing with the younger Italian. Romano grunted at his failure to capture Spain's attention. He used to be the apple of Spain's eye. Why had Italy suddenly taken his place? Spain and Italy didn't even know each other that well as far as Romano was aware. He averted his golden-brown eyes to his feet, which were aching from balancing his whole body. Maybe he should just go back upstairs to his room and mope around some more?
Romano decided to take one last look at the two of them having fun, burning the depressing image into his mind. Great, now he had another reason to be jealous of his brother; JUST what he needed. He looked up, the bright golden tint fading from his sad eyes. Tears were forming again. But then his eyes widened at what they saw, and his heart began beating furiously faster. Italy was cupping Spain's cheek with his small, dexterous hand, still smiling and laughing happily. Spain seemed to be comfortable with it as well. Maybe
Maybe Spain really did love his brother
so much better...Romano couldn't take it anymore. He broke away from the doorway, charging like a Spanish bull towards the happy couple.
Italy turned to see Romano striding vastly towards the two of them. He dropped his hand from Spain's face, "Eh? Romano? It's good to see you, brother!...Wait, what's-"
He was cut off by Romano shoving his hand into his porcelain face, pushing him back out of the door. Italy grunted in shock at the sudden unexpected movement.
"WHOA, Romano!" Cried Spain, "What do you think yo-" He could not finish his sentence either however as Romano clasped his other hand over Spain's lips.
"SHUT UP, YOU BASTARD!" Growled Romano, before turning to stare down his brother, "And as for YOU! Stay away from Spain, you fucking moron! He's MINE!"
"What?! But I-" Italy protested. But again he could not finish what he was going to say as Romano slammed the door in his face. Italy stood outside the door for a moment, his golden eyes wide, before exhaling and walking away back to his house where Germany was waiting.
Romano was gasping for air after his loud outburst, leaning against the door to ensure that it stayed shut. He ran his nimble fingers through his brunette hair in frustration. What had he just done? He kicked his brother out and declared that Spain was his. How embarrassing. What excuse could he make up now? He couldn't think of a logical one at that moment. His heart was pounding against his ribcage and his brain was throbbing in his skull. His hands were shaking and his feet were quaking. He looked up at Spain, whom was absolutely dumbfounded. Romano opened his mouth to say something, but then realised he had nothing to say, so he closed it again and looked down at the tiled floor.
What was all that about, Lovi?"
"Nothing important, bastard."
"Well, actually, it appears to be very important. Why did you lash out at Ita-chan?"
No particular reason. His face was just pissing me off."
"And why is that?" Asked Spain, his facial expression changing from shocked to suspicious. What should Romano do? He felt like he was going to burst if he didn't tell the truth. He managed to compose himself though and look Spain dead in the face though.
"I should be the one asking the questions! What was HE doing here?! Did you invite him?!"
Spain faltered under Romano's sudden change from shy and detached to blunt and frustrated, but he managed to quickly regain himself, "Yes, I did as a matter of fact invite him. I asked him if he could bring some Tomatoes from his country because I had none over here. I told him that a certain brother of his ate them all." Spain held up a small box with the label "Tomatoes" on it as proof. Romano blushed a violent red. Shit! So that's why he was here! He thought he had heard something about Tomatoes earlier, and that was the reason! SHIT! And he just
Well why did he have his hand on your cheek?! Seems rather suspicious, jackass!"
"We were comparing tans. We were talking about how he's a lot less tanned than I am as I spend more time out in the sun."
Romano blushed even brighter yet, if that was even possible. Crap, he said, and asked, far too much! He couldn't deal with it anymore. He had ruined the atmosphere and their relationship. He had to go back to Italy. His brother might reject him, but
Oh, who was he kidding. His brother was a forgiving person who could never hold a grudge perfect when it came to socialising, unlike Romano. He looked back down at the floor, pushing Spain out of the way as he stormed up the stairs.
"Romano! Roma! Lovi! Wait!" Called Spain, but even that wonderful voice belonging to the Spaniard could not pull him back. He had to go before the jug filled with his unrequited love overflowed and spilt.
Romano felt a large, warm hand grab his thin wrist and jerk him back. He stumbled and faltered, falling to the floor. He collapsed in a heap on the wooden floorboards. Oh, how jealous he was of those floorboards. They could never fall in love and feel the pain of it. His shoulders shook violently as the first few tears escaped.
"Let me go, jackass." He sniffed, using his free hand to wipe away the tears, "I don't want this." Spain knelt down beside Romano, still holding tightly onto his wrist, afraid that if he were to let go then he'd never see the Italian again. He brushed Romano's fringe out of his face, unveiling his crying face. His eyes were darker and shimmering, his body trembling, and there was a small blush on his cheeks.
Why are you
What's the matter?" Romano couldn't take it anymore. He seriously couldn't. He was probably never going to see Spain again anyway, so why not just tell the moron what he could never realise.
"I LOVE YOU, YOU BASTARD! THAT'S WHAT THE FUCKING MATTER IS! I'VE LOVED YOU FOR AS LONG AS I CAN REMEMBER, AND YOU HAVE NEVER LOVED ME BACK! WELL FUCK YOU, IDIOT! I'M TIRED OF THESE UNREQUITED FEELINGS, AND I'M TIRED OF HOW DENSE YOU ARE! NOW FUCKIN' LET GO OF ME BEFORE I HURT YOU! I'M A PART OF THE MAFIA, BASTARD! I CAN GET PEOPLE TO CUT YOU UP AND SHIT!"
Spain recoiled from the sobbing Italian, loosening his grip on his wrist. All this time, he never realised how he had felt. It was all becoming clear now. Why Romano blushed around him so much, and why he got nervous when they touched. He never could have guessed it himself. He scowled.
"That's not fair, Lovi!"
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY, BASTARD?!"
"It's not fair that you thought I never loved you! I do love you!"
"YEAH, AS A FUCKIN' FRIEND! PISS OFF, SHIT HEAD!" Cried Romano. Spain growled at the Italian's stubbornness and ignorance.
"If I loved you as nothing more than a friend then why would I do this?!"
"DO WHA-" Romano's cries were interrupted by a pair of soft, warm lips being pressed passionately against his own. His tears stopped flowing as he felt the Spaniard's warm breath upon his face. It felt awkward to be staring at him as they kissed, but Romano was far too shocked to close his eyes. They stayed like that for a mere moment, but it was enough to make Romano's heart jump out of his chest. Their lips then left one another as Spain leant back to examine Romano's bewildered face. Spain smiled jovially at the Italian once the kiss ended, saying nothing, intending for his expression to do all the talking.
Why did you do that?" Breathed Romano, staring dead into the sincere eyes of the Spanish man.
"Because I love you, idiot!" Laughed Spain, ruffling Romano's mess of hair.
But that can't be, idiot. You like Belgium."
"Hmm? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Today in the field, you seemed to get jealous when I was talking to Belgium, so you interrupted our conversation. That's evidence enough, moron!"
"Ah, not quite." Said Spain, moving his hand to the Italian's soft cheek, "I was actually jealous of Belgium talking to you. And you seemed so smitten with her; I couldn't stand there and watch as you were snatched away from me before my very eyes, so I got in between the two of you for my own selfish reasons."
But I thou-"
"And don't forget that you also got a little jealous today."
"Huh? WHEN DID I DO SUCH A THING, JACKASS?!"
"When Italy came over just now. If I'm not mistaken, you got a little jealous when he was talking to me. Actually, a LITTLE jealous would be an understatement."
Spain laughed as Romano blushed a deeper red, remembering his embarrassing, unnecessary outburst. He had thought of Spain as an idiot for not realising his love, and yet he had been just as oblivious as Spain. Wait, did that make them a perfect match then? Romano wouldn't mind being an idiot if it meant he could have something more in common with Spain.
"Lovi, you're ripe! You're ripe! I can eat you!" Exclaimed Spain, hugging the blushing Italian. That time, Romano did not pull away. He accepted the hug, leaning into Spain's safe torso, crying again. But these tears were not due to sadness they were tears of happiness and relief. Spain slowly tilted Romano's face upwards, wiping away his tears with his thumb. They gazed into each other's eyes for a moment green into gold and gold into green before locking lips again.
Romano pushed Spain away every now and again, gasping for breath, but the Spaniard continuously dragged him back into the kiss. Their tongues explored one another's mouths every individual taste bud and all the dents in the teeth that wouldn't be noticed in daily life. Spain effortlessly lifted the gasping Italian up from the floor, trapping him against himself and the wall, fearful of him becoming too embarrassed and escaping. Romano let out a pleasured cry as Spain groped him, clutching onto the Spaniards clothing. Spain then proceeded slivering his hand down Romano's pants. Romano began shaking violently with the ecstasy, his curl twitching insanely fast and furiously. His knees shook, beginning to give way. Spain noticed this, and so, lifted him up, propping him up against the wall. Romano eagerly wrapped his legs around Spain's waist, leaning down from his new great height to gain another fervent kiss. Spain happily obliged, licking his lips before going in for it.
Romano savoured the taste of the Spaniard. Tomatoes and Churros which was exactly what he smelt of too. It was becoming hard to keep his legs around the Spaniard. The pleasure was far too much to take. He moaned as Spain ripped open his blouse and began planting kisses all along his torso.
"S-Stop it, Spain! Chigi!" Cried Romano, grabbing a tuft of the Spain's soft, dark brown hair.
"I can't when you're so delicious." Purred Spain, pinching Romano's nipples, causing him to moan more, "And when you're seducing me with your voice."
At LEAST let me rest, bastard. It's tiring in this position, idiot!"
"Is that so?" Chuckled Spain. Romano pouted, turning to face away from the tantalising Spanish man, before suddenly being lifted away from the wall and carried away to the Spain's bedroom.
"I can walk, bastard." Breathed Romano.
"As if, Lovi." Laughed Spain, "Your knees are giving way."
How did YOU know that?!"
"I could feel your legs weakening when holding onto me."
"C-CHIGI!" Cried Romano, "You're a bas-" Romano got some of the wind knocked out of him as Spain flung him onto his bed.
"BASTARD! Aren't you meant to treat people you love like delicate possessions, idiot?!"
"Ah, but you're not delicate at all. You're a harsh tyrant."
"Charming." Huffed Romano. Spain crawled on top of the red-faced Italian, staring into him with his lustrous green eyes. Romano's heart missed a beat as Spain continued to shower him with kisses. He grabbed Spain's head, forcing it against him, wanting more attention from the Spanish man. It was rather spoilt of him, but he had been waiting for this moment for as long as he could remember, and dammit he was going to enjoy it! Spain licked Romano, all the way up from his stomach to his neck. This caused Romano to shiver, moaning and thrusting his hips slightly. Spain noticed this and once again put his hand into action, swiftly tugging down Romano's pants. Romano gasped at the dexterity of the Spanish man. How was he so good? Had he done this often? He blushed angrily at the thought of Spain being like this with another before him, glaring at him, his golden eyes like raging flames.
"What is it, Lovi~?" Asked Spain, noticing the Italian's anger.
I'm not your first, am I?" Replied Romano, looking down at his bare chest where he could already see hickeys arising. Damn bastard! At this rate he wouldn't be able to go topless again in public for a while, and just when the weather was beginning to get very hot.
"Eh? Well, I've had it away with many women before you." Sighed Spain, "But, I never loved any of them as much as I love you. In fact, I didn't love them at all! Ahahaha~"
"Bastard. You should only do it with someone you love."
"Well, I'm doing that right now. Aren't I?"
"How should I know?!" Romano really didn't know if he should believe Spain's confession. Maybe he was just going to be another one of Spain's past whores that he laughed about with another to-be past whore only to be used and then thrown away.
"Lovi, how can I prove my love to you?"
"You can't! You'll
You'll have to earn my trust, dammit!"
"And how do I do that?"
I don't know. By being faithful I guess. And r-romantic. And giving me three meals a day and letting me have a siesta."
"That's a lot to do."
"It's barely anything, bastard!"
"Fine." Chuckled Spain, drawing circles on Romano's chest with his dextrous fingers, "But you have to do something for me too."
"And what would THAT be, pervert?"
"Tell me you love me. Every day. And I want a morning kiss, every morning. Oh, and a good night kiss every night."
THERE'S NO WAY I'M DOING THAT, IDIOT!" Exclaimed Romano, jumping up from where he lay and rapidly trying to refasten his blouse buttons, "Fuck that, you pervert! Kiss my ass!"
"Will do!" Said Spain, puckering up and grabbing Romano's rear end.
"NOT LITERALLY!" Gasped Romano. Cringing as Spain's touch got him excited again. Dammit, how did Spain do that?! All it took was a brushing of his fingers, calloused from Guitar playing, or the sound of his voice, like the hum of crickets in the hot evenings, to get him exhilarated.
"Wow, Lovi~ I never would have guessed you'd have been like this!" Cooed Spain, "And you call me a pervert! What a hyprocrite~"
"SHUT UP, JACKASS! Ahh~" Cried Romano as the country of passion continued to grope him, "I-I SAID I'M NOT DOING THAT, BASTARD!"
"Actually, you said you weren't going to say you loved me," Smirked Spain, "But you never said anything about not expressing your feelings through body language."
Romano turned even redder, if that was entirely possible considering how red he already was. He clenched his little fists and screamed, "CHIGI!" however nothing he said could deter the Spaniard now, as he licked the inner-thigh of the stubborn Italian.
Romano sighed as he looked up at the dark ceiling, the only dim source of light coming from the moon outside Spain's window. With a slight blush still lingering on his cheeks, he contemplated the last hour spent doing
'that' with Spain. His Boss Spain, whom he thought he would be nothing but a subordinate to forever. He looked down at the stupid face of the Spanish man as he slept on the Italian's chest. Romano smiled and ruffled his dark hair a bit, lovingly. He then saw a great opportunity to do something he had always wanted to do, and so, leant forward to sniff Spain's hair. It smelt of the usual thing Tomatoes and Churros and rolling Spanish fields. He sighed. Though that was the only smell he got from Spain, he never got bored of it. He could smell that beloved Spaniard for hours, relinquishing from the struggle of the economy and floating into a world of Spain and nothing but.
"Romano's a scent pervert." He heard the Spaniard mumble. Romano blushed fiercely once again and hit him over the head.
"GO TO SLEEP ALREADY, SHIT HEAD!"
He smiled as the Spaniard grumbled in pain. Today had been a good day for Romano.