Bonjour! Right, this is a oneshot that I wrote for one of my best friend's birthday. One of her current favourites is Engano...
*squees loudly with intense enthusiasm*
Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway, I've been persuaded (read 'ordered') by her and my other friend to upload this... I have such nice friends, huh? Hehe love you both really Joanne and Rowan-chan ^^
Also thanks to Maiya for beta-ing this ^^
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please review with comments or constructive criticism.
UPDATE: I have been persuaded to continue this, so please bear with me! Much love to all of you who showed your interest in this!
Title: Malinteso
Rating: M for very mild yaoi. Plus it's Romano. His mouth should have a rating all of it's own...
Summary: Having decided to accompany his brother to the World Meeting, Romano is already reaching his breaking point. Of course, Spain and France do nothing to help matters...
Pairing: Engano (England x Romano)
Romano was furious. Not just his normal pissed off demeanour. He was absolutely livid. They had just persuaded Germany to let them take a break in the meeting after three hours of discussing the current Euro crisis. Well, discussing was the polite term. It had ended in another confrontation between Turkey and Greece, America being hit round the back of the head with England's notes for yet another solution involving superheroes and Italy running around with white flags. Romano had facepalmed several times. Then Prussia had broken into the meeting again and general chaos had erupted. Germany had finally called a break while he went to round up his elder brother. The last thing Romano had seen before slamming his head onto the table had been his stupid tomato bastard being dragged out of the room by the perverted bastard. Romano's cheeks burned as he stalked through the corridors, clenching his teeth. Where are you tomato bastard? He growled inwardly. With his right foot he kicked out at a nearby door. It swung open slowly. Hungary looked over her shoulder at him.
"Romano! Come in!" The Nation grinned cheerily. She was sitting at a computer with Liechtenstein, who was staring at the screen, enraptured. Romano took a few steps in the door.
"Have you seen the tomato bastard?" He asked abruptly. Liechtenstein giggled suddenly. Suspicion rose in Romano's eyes as Hungary attempted to keep a straight face. He stormed closer and glared at the computer screen.
"What the hell is fanfiction?" He said, confused. Then he read some of the text, his eyes widening in horror. Spain... and France? That perverted bastard? Chains? Ropes? Fluffy handcuffs?
"Like what you see, Romano?" Hungary sniggered. Even Liechtenstein was giggling. Romano thought his brain was about to explode.
"What the fuck is this?" he swore loudly, backing away from the computer. The door opened behind them, making all three nations jump.
"What is all the noise coming from here? Liechtenstein, what are you looking at?" Switzerland walked purposely forward. Hungary went pale and started clicking rapidly on the mouse. Too late. A cold fury came over Switzerland's eyes as he read the word displayed on the screen. "Hungary..." He growled. "This is not suitable for Liechtenstein! What do you– Where are you going? Hungary! Liechtenstein! Come back here!" Romano stepped backwards as Switzerland chased after the female Nations, one hand on his gun. The Italian Nation was still in shock from what he had read. He had never even considered the possibility of something going on between France and his former Boss. Sure, they were good friends; they were the part of the Bad Touch Trio after all... But that was like saying something was going on between France and Prussia. Wait, could there be? The perverted bastard says he's slept with nearly every Nation at least once... Oh God, bad memories... Romano tried to stop the images from flooding his mind as he walked out of the door and straight into England.
"Watch where you're going, bastard!" He swore, rebounding. He would have fallen to the floor if England hadn't grabbed his arm.
"You should do the same, Romano," the Englishman said disapprovingly. Romano glared at him.
"Shut up tea bastard!" Romano scowled back, yanking his arm out of England's grip. England raised his eyebrows.
"Is there something the matter, Romano? You seem to be in a worse mood than normal..." He trailed off, looking expectantly at the Nation. Romano glared at him.
"None of your fucking business, bastard! Have you seen the tomato bastard?" He asked, clenching his fist in frustration.
"The last time I saw him he was heading off somewhere with France," he replied. Romano facepalmed. "Is there something wrong?"
"None of your business," Romano growled. It wasn't that he was worried about England's reaction if he told him. Hell no. It was just that he couldn't be bothered to deal with his pirate side if he completely lost control. After all, the on-and-off relationship between France and England was common knowledge among the Nations. It wasn't his self-preservation instincts that stopped him, it was laziness. Honest. England raised an eyebrow.
"In fact I was just looking for Francis myself. Shall we look together?" Romano was just about to tell him exactly what he thought of his idea when something occurred to him. If France really was attempting to seduce Spain, England would go just as apeshit as he would. And his pirate side was well known for cruel and unusual punishments... Romano almost sniggered.
"Fine," he muttered, stomping off. England smiled slightly to himself and followed. They walked together in an awkward silence for a few minutes.
"So why–" began Romano.
"What's up–" England said at the same exact moment. He smiled weakly. Romano glowered at him.
"I was speaking first, tea bastard! Why are you looking for the perverted bastard?" England blushed slightly.
"I saw him leaving with Spain, and well..." He coughed, not looking at him. "Why are you looking for Spain?" Romano snorted, enjoying the Nation's discomfort.
"None of your fucking business," Romano said shortly. He noted England's raised eyebrow.
"It's not because I care about that tomato bastard," he added sourly, choosing to ignore England's knowing smile.
Just then, the Nations heard a distinctive laugh echo down the corridor.
"Ohonhonhon~" England and Romano shared a look before speeding their pace considerably. The laugh was followed by another.
"Fusosososo~" Romano sped up even more, jogging down the corridor with England close behind. They stopped outside a seemingly innocuous door, like all the others in the building. But the sounds coming from behind the door were far from innocuous.
"Ohonhonhon~ I didn't know you enjoyed this sort of thing so much..." The perverted glee in the Frenchman's voice was overpowering.
"Fusosososo~ you never asked, mi amigo~"
"I didn't think it was your type of thing..."
"Really? No, don't...! Gah! Why did you~ ugh!"
"Ohonhonhon~ Right there, non?"
"Not there...! Wait, there! Yes there!"
"Ohonhonhon~ So you like it rough, non?"
"The best way to have it..."
There was a few seconds of pants and growling. Then:
"So am I as good as your Romano, mon ami?" Romano nearly burst a blood vessel. He could feel his skin going bright red. He was apoplectic. How dare that perverted bastard attempt to seduce Spain! It's cruel and inhumane! After all, if the tomato bastard thought France was being serious, it was Romano who would have to pick up the pieces and listen to the bastard whining all day until he got over it. Continuing his mental tirade, Romano glanced over at the English Nation beside him in an attempt to judge his reaction, and nearly fell over in surprise.
Never in all his long life had he seen England so angry. The Nation's face was a bright red colour, his knuckles white from the sheer force he was clenching his fists. His green eyes were glaring at the closed door as if he could disintegrate it with sheer willpower. It was almost amusing until he saw something change in his eyes. Reacting fast, Romano grabbed England's arm and dragged him away from the door, almost jogging down the corridor. I've got about ten seconds... Romano thought to himself, scouring the corridor with his eyes. Where is the damn...? Ahah! There's the bastard!
He dragged the stiff English Nation over to the door, opened it, threw the Nation inside and slammed the door behind him. He locked it and leant all of his weight against the door. Three... two... one... Now.
Just as Romano thought the last word, something hit the door with such force he was surprised it didn't break. Then a voice practically shut his ears down with its volume sounded loudly through the door.
"Arr... So that scurvy frog thinks he can cheat on me does he? I'll show him what we do to adulterous Frenchmen... He won't be walking the plank, that's for sure. He won't be walking at all! And he sure won't be able to have children ahaharr~!" Romano cringed. He could remember the state Spain had come home in after encountering England in pirate mode and he had no wish to meet the same fate. He was distracted from his memories when something hit the door again, cracking it along the hinges.
"Please hold you bastard door," Romano muttered to himself, straining against the door.
"Eh? What be I doing in a cupboard? Arr~ Ouch! Scurvy mop! I'll string you up for the crows! If I had some crows. Or even some string. What be this? Aharr~! Rum!" There was a few seconds of silence. Then:
"Gack! Bleh! That be not rum! That be bloody bleach! Who puts bloody bleach in a bottle? I'll string 'em up! Still don't have no string..." The Nation's disjointed ramblings continued for a few minutes. Then all of a sudden it stopped, and an embarrassed cough sounded.
"Erm... hello? Is there someone out there? Hello?" Romano listened carefully. He wouldn't put it past the tea bastard to pretend to be normal while still in full blown pirate mode. He listened a little more.
"Hello? Can anyone hear me? I'm locked in the cupboard! Hello?" Romano decided to trust him. Just this once.
"Shut up for a minute tea bastard! I'm unlocking the door," he said in an annoyed tone, moving away from the door.
"Romano?" England sounded surprised. "Why did you lock me in here?"
"You would have gone pirate on me if I hadn't, bastard!" Romano snapped back, ripping the lock back and booting the door open. It hit England on the nose.
"Ow! That hurt! Why would I have gone pirate on you?" England replied, rubbing his nose. Romano rolled his eyes.
"Because I was closer than the perverted bastard and the tomato bastard," he said. England raised an eyebrow. "Yes... But my pirate side isn't that bad!" he protested, stepping out of the cupboard. Romano stuck his head around the door to see the carnage that lay inside, then thought better and closed the door.
"I saw Spain after the Armada, bastard. I think I'm pretty well aware of how bad your pirate side is," he replied sourly, turning away and marching up the corridor. I'm going to sort those oversexed bastards out once and for all! It is not my job to take care of crazed pirate bastards, even if they are pretty sexy... Wait, where the hell did that come from? Romano could feel himself blushing again. Damn it all to hell and back! He growled mentally.
"You don't think they were really... do you?" Romano jumped when England spoke. He had failed to notice the Englishman following him; he was so caught up in his own thoughts.
"Chigi! Don't do that, bastard!" He said vehemently, blushing bright red again. England raised his hands slightly.
"Sorry old chap. Didn't mean to startle you," he said apologetically. Romano glowered at him.
"You didn't scare me bastard!" he snapped, storming off in the direction of the meeting. England stared after the irate Italian, confused. What did I do to annoy him this time? He thought bewildered. Shrugging, he followed him at a much slower place.
England just made it back into the meeting before Germany entered, looking rather worn out.
"Can ve settle down now?" Germany called wearily. No one heard him; they were too involved in their own conversations. Germany stared at the assembled nations for a few seconds, a vein pulsing in his forehead. Italy looked over, finally noticing the German's presence.
"Ve~ Germany!" He yelled happily, bounding over to hug him. Germany stood stiffly, still staring at the Nations. Then he lost his temper slightly.
"VILL YOU ALL SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE HELL UP!" he yelled loudly, surprising the other Nations into something resembling quiet.
"You have found Kalingrad, da?" Russia said mildly, a childish smile playing on his lips. Germany glared at him.
"Nein," he growled. Russia shrugged.
"Perhaps you should phone him, da? He will always have his phone turned on," The Russian said, his childish smile in full force now. Germany narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Russia was being unusually cooperative. He scanned the room quickly. Vait a minute... No, no one appears to be missing... Slowly, still regarding Russia suspiciously, he pulled out his phone and rang his elder brother.
"Silence bitte!" Germany shouted. The Nations went silent, each straining their ears for Prussia's distinctive ringtone.
"I'm awesome! No you're not, dude don't lie." Germany's head whipped round to stare at a stop directly in the centre of the table. His face went bright red with rage and his hand shook slightly from the force he was gripping the phone with. In one swift movement he dropped the phone and picked up his end of the table.
There in the centre of the carpet lay Prussia's phone, blaring the ringtone for all to hear.
No Prussia.
Germany nearly had a fit.
Ten minutes later the meeting was cancelled when Germany received a text from an unknown number, saying "Kesesesese~ You'll never find me West. I'm just too awesome for that XD". He completely snapped and threw the phone straight through the wall.
On the opposite side of the room.
.oOo.
Stupid stupid stupid other potato bastard! Stupid tomato bastard! Stupid perverted bastard! Stupid tea bastard! Romano was ranting again. Once Italy had managed to calm Germany down with liberal application of pasta and wurst, another hunt for Prussia was organised with Italy, Switzerland, Germany and Hungary searching. Romano declined to join them on the grounds that he was waiting for France to return to the meeting room. The current Mafia boss was all too happy to send some of the boys up armed with the aptly-named "Nutcrackers". An evil grin spread across the Nation's face. Unfortunately, this did not go unnoticed.
"Hey Romano, what's up dude?" America was suddenly in Romano's field of vision, grinning inanely and holding a hamburger. "You're like totally glaring for real at the wall hahaha!" Romano eyed the hamburger thoughtfully. There were many uses for a hamburger. Especially when Romano was in Mafia mode... He was distracted by the doors to the meeting room swinging open. France and Spain staggered in looking exhausted, their clothes rumpled. Romano was fully prepared to give them both a thorough bollocking when America pushed him into the chair.
"Chigi!"
"Hey dude, calm down! You totally look like a tomato for reals!
Romano snapped.
"Gah! Urchk...! Gahgle...!"
"Roma! You should not put your hand in America's mouth! It's not hygienic!" Spain had a look of astonishment on his face.
"Ohonhonhon~ 'E is simply showing 'is love, non?"
"I do not believe that is what he had in mind when he inserted the entire hamburger into America's throat, France-san," Japan said in horror.
"Ze entire...? Mon dieu, no wonder 'e is going bleu..."
"Gak chkk ughle!"
"Bloody hell!" England had finally noticed what was going on. "Someone grab America! I'll deal with Romano," he stated grimly, heading over to the pair. Spain looked at him indignantly.
""Roma is mine, you~ mmph!" He was cut off abruptly as France slapped his hand over his mouth. He could see the muscle jumping in England's forehead and had no desire to see his friend in several pieces.
"Mon ami, per'aps we should save Amerique, non? 'E is losing consciousness... Ohonhonhon~ Zen again..." France had adopted his rape face, surreptitiously attempting to grope Spain. Japan facepalmed.
Meanwhile Russia had grabbed America by his sides, a dark aura emanating from his body.
"Silly Amerika. Kolkolkol," the Russian grinned creepily. America didn't answer. He had finally managed to swallow the burger, but Romano had merely countered by attempting to strangle him instead. England grabbed the maddened nation under the arms and literally dragged him away from America. The American coughed and choked, his skin a fetching purple colour, slumping so Russia was supporting him. Romano's struggles had lessened slightly. Until the moment when he looked up and saw France groping Spain.
He was not amused.
.oOo.
England finally managed to drag the apoplectic Nation into the hallway outside the meeting room. Romano was hissing something in Italian that definitely was not polite. England regarded the Nation. He's fuming mad and he still looks ridiculously cute... How the hell is this possible? England just realised what he had thought and almost facepalmed. Almost. However he refrained from doing so, as he would have to remove one of his hands from Romano's shoulders where he was pinning him against the wall and that would have resulted in his face becoming intimate with Romano's fist. Not a desirable situation. Intimate with Romano himself however... England drifted into a fantasy. It was M-rated. Enough said.
"You can let go of me now bastard." England was brought abruptly out of his fantasy, staring at Romano in surprise.
"What the...?" England spluttered. Romano glowered at him.
"Che, I said let go bastard," Romano scowled at him. England was ridiculously confused.
"You're not going to hit me?" he asked warily. Romano raised an eyebrow.
"It's the perverted bastard I want to hit, not you," he replied acidly. England smirked.
"You already did," he chuckled, releasing his grip on the Italian. A small smile ghosted across Romano's lips before being replaced with his customary scowl.
"Che, not hard enough apparently," he muttered. He suddenly grabbed England by the forearm and began dragging him down the corridor.
"What the-? Unhand me git!" England protested.
"Shut it bastard! I'm hungry and you're coming with me!" England wisely chose not to argue. After all, Romano was in charge of the Mafia, and England was pretty sure that he had been phoning them earlier. He had no desire to be added to the hit list.
So the Nation allowed himself to be taken to the cafeteria. They ended up sitting in a corner with coffee, since Romano point blank refused to even attempt to eat the pasta. England didn't blame him. Even he didn't like the pasta. There was an awkward silence as the two Nations sat and sipped coffee. England half expected the Italian to complain about the coffee but he was uncharacteristically silent for once. It was quite unnerving.
"So," England started, more to break the silence than anything. "Why did you come with your brother this time, Romano? Normally it's only Veneciano who attends the meetings." There was silence for a moment. England had just given up the hope that the Italian would reply when he spoke.
"Che, don't read too much into it, bastard. Fratello has been spending too much time with the potato bastard recently and I came to make sure he didn't do... that at the meeting." A pink tinge crept up Romano's neck to flood his face. It was quite cute really. England hid his smirk behind his cup.
"Oh, well did you succeed?" The Italian shot him a glare.
"I punched the perverted bastard in the face and got dragged out of the meeting. Do you think I succeeded, bastard?" He replied, sarcasm dripping from his words. This time England couldn't hide his smirk.
"Seemed to be a pretty successful venture to me," he grinned. England hadn't forgotten what France and Spain had been doing earlier, and he didn't intend to. Just because France is the self-proclaimed 'Nation of l'amour' doesn't mean he has to go off with anything in a skirt. Or anything not in a skirt for that matter... Especially that Spanish twat. England unintentionally gripped his coffee cup fiercely, turning his knuckles white. Romano eyed his hand warily.
"If you break the cup bastard, you're cleaning the mess up," he said pointedly. England's eyes flickered to him, and then followed his gaze to the cup. He sighed, forcing his hand to relax before putting the cup down gingerly.
"Sorry, I guess I took it a little hard," England said sheepishly. Romano glowered at him.
"Don't be such a soppy bastard. He cheated on you, so get revenge!" England considered the prospect for a moment. It sounded rather appealing.
"Hmmm... sounds like a good idea actually. But how? It's not like I'm in charge of the Mafia," he replied, attempting to drink his coffee before realising the cup was empty. He tapped the rim of the ceramic on his teeth in an attempt to hide his mistake. From the look of amusement on Romano's face, he guessed he failed.
"Che, no. But I am." England shot him a look.
"Are you offering your help, git?" He asked in surprise.
"Chigi! No bastard!" Romano burst out, turning, in Spain's words, "as red as a tomato". England could see why it had amused the Spanish Nation. He almost missed Romano's mutterings.
"What was that?" He asked mildly. Romano shot him a death glare.
"I said bastard, not unless you're asking for it," he replied acidly before standing up and heading to the dispenser for more coffee. England remained silent until the Nation had returned.
"I'd like your help," he mumbled. Romano nearly choked on his coffee.
"What was that bastard?" he said in surprise. This time it was England glaring.
"You heard git," he growled. Romano wanted to snigger. He didn't.
"Well then," he smirked. "If you won't tell me what you said..." He trailed off. England wanted to strangle him.
"I said," he replied through gritted teeth, "I would like your help." Romano made no attempt to hide his grin.
"Say please."
"Git."
"Bastard."
"Wanker."
"Arsehole."
The Nations grinned at each other. They were both unused to this kind of friendship, but neither of them wanted to give it up just yet.
"So what do you have in mind, git?" England said curiously. Romano grinned evilly.
"Well," he replied nonchalantly, "after the Mafia boys have finished with them–"
"You sent your Mafia after them?" England was surprised. Romano shot him an annoyed look.
"'Course I did bastard! You expect me to let them get away with that? Chigi!" he exclaimed vehemently. England was surprised at the Italian's fury. Were he and Spain...? he thought, noting the red flush on the Nation's face and the tightened skin by the corner of his eyes. If there was something going on there... England chose not to finish that thought. It was well known that his relationship with France was more of a friends-with-benefits sort of relationship than a proper one, but no one really knew about Spain and Romano. Some Nations said they were, some said they weren't, and England had been too much of a gentleman to ask them outright. He was distracted from his thoughts as Romano poked him in the forehead.
"Are you even listening to me bastard?" he scowled. England blinked in surprise.
"Sorry old chap, I was miles away," he admitted. He expected Romano to yell at him, and so was surprised when all the Nation did was roll his eyes and swear in Italian.
"I said," he began again. Then for the second time he was interrupted. However, this time it was by an entirely different scenario.
France came running through the double doors like the hounds of hell themselves were after him. He cast his eyes about wildly before spotting England and sprinting over towards him. Unfortunately he was so intent on getting away from whatever was chasing him he forgot to look where he was going. He hit his hip on a table, knocking coffee all over the floor. The force of the impact caused the Nation to spin in a circle, before staggering forward again. He was a few feet away from England when he slipped on the coffee he had knocked everywhere and went flying forward, landing in England's lap.
"Angleterre," France whined, gazing up at England with wide blue eyes. "Angleterre, save me from ze demons s'il vous plait!" England smirked in reply.
"Oh? What demons would those be, Francis?" he replied nonchalantly, as if the Nation wasn't half laying on him.
"Ze demons de l'Italie! Zey want to... To remove my man'ood avec un garlic press!" England couldn't help it. He took one look at the expression of malevolent glee on Romano's face and burst into laughter. He laughed until tears ran down his face. The hurt expression on France's face was so comical it sent him into fresh peals of laughter. Romano lasted six seconds before failing. The two Nations laughed and laughed, to France's growing bemusement. When a strong Italian accent came from the direction of the doorway they laughed even harder at the expression of panic on France's face and the speed he employed in order to escape through the other door.
It was many minutes later that the Nations managed to get some sort of control over their amusement. At some point during their giggles they had both slid to the floor to sit next to each other, still crying with laughter.
"Thanks git," England gasped, tears still trickling down his face. "That's the most fun I've had in years."
"Welcome bastard," Romano replied, equally out of breath. "Truth be told, I wasn't expecting the garlic press."
"The look on France's face!" They lost another few minutes in their sniggering. Eventually Romano staggered to his feet.
"Come on bastard, the meeting probably half way through by now," he said, trying to regain his composure. He grasped England's arm and pulled him upright. Still grinning broadly, England checked his watch.
"Not much point in going to the meeting now, Romano. It's nearly over," he commented, showing Romano the time. The Italian shrugged.
"Che, might as well go back to the hotel then," he replied. England shuffled uncomfortably. Romano raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out bastard."
"Well," he started, "France was going to give me a lift back to the hotel today, but I don't want to be stuck in a car with that git now…" he trailed off, looking expectantly at him. Romano sighed, muttering a curse in Italian.
"You want a ride to your hotel then, bastard?" he said reluctantly. It wasn't that he didn't like the English Nation: on the contrary, he considered them good friends now. The problem was them staying good friends if he kept pouting like that. Romano was either going to end up hitting him or kissing him, maybe even both. Kissing the bastard? Fucking brother of mine, he's sent my entire mind into mushy crap! Romano growled internally. Even so, he couldn't help but admire England's arse as they walked to the car park.
.oOo.
"So where's your car then?" England asked as they left the building. Romano snorted.
"Che, I got a ride with mi fratello," he replied, holding the key up and pressing the fob. A sleek white Lamborghini Gallardo Spyder flashed its lights. England's mouth dropped open. It was one bloody gorgeous convertible, even with the top down. Romano glanced at the Englishman's face and smirked. Everyone looks like that when they first see the Gallardo, he thought, amused.
"Bloody... hell..." England spluttered, still gawking at the car. "You came here in that?" Romano was annoyed.
"I wasn't going to fucking walk now was I?" he scowled. Still slightly in shock, England could only follow Romano as they headed towards the gleaming convertible.
"What about Veneciano?" England asked as they reached the car.
"He'll get a lift back with the potato bastard anyway," Romano shrugged before opening the door and sliding into the driver's seat. England followed him in, stretching out in the passenger seat and carefully closing the door behind him. Romano was watching him with an amused expression on his face.
"This car is bloody gorgeous," England stated.
"Che, sure is, bastard," Romano replied, smirking slightly.
"Like you." England hadn't meant to say it. He had never meant to say it, but he had, and he could hardly deny it when they were the only two people in a silent car.
"W-what did you say?" Romano asked in shock, smirk dropping from his face, not even adding 'bastard' to the end of his question. England went bright red and stared out of the side window, face turned resolutely away from the Italian.
"You heard," he muttered, completely mortified. There was silence for a moment. England hardly dared to breathe. Then he heard a sort of strangled sound. Like someone was choking, but attempting to do it quietly. He twitched his head around slightly, peeking at Romano from the corner of his eye.
Romano was blushing bright red, his face screwed up, eyes clenched shut, shaking in... laughter? England went from mortified to an embarrassed fury.
"Sodding git!" he burst out. "I admit that I like you and all you can do is sit there and laugh at me!" Romano placed his forehead against the steering wheel, still shaking with suppressed giggles. England made to get out the car, but Romano's hand shot out and grasped his arm tightly. He raised his head to look at England.
"Che," he giggled, "don't storm off in a huff bastard. I'm not laughing at you."
"Then what the hell are you laughing at then, bloody git?"
"Myself." England was totally confused. Romano decided to enlighten him.
Their lips met in what felt like a burst of flame. Hot breaths mingled as they tasted each other's lips, hands moving to delve into tangled hair. Neither had expected this, but neither was complaining. Their tongues tangled as they explored each other's mouths, pulling each other closer. England moved to nibble on Romano's earlobe before laying little kisses down his neck to end in the hollow of his throat. Romano moaned in pleasure, gripping England's hair as he tried to press his aroused body against him. England chucked deep in his throat, reaching down to stroke Romano's member.
"Kesesesese~ Looks like someone's taking some vital regions!"
"CHIGI!"
"ARR! I'LL STRING YOU UP FOR THE CROWS, YOU PEEPING TOM!"
.oOo.
Germany cut off mid speech as the doors to the meeting room were kicked open. Literally. Romano's boot stayed up in the air for a moment before England stormed in, in full pirate mode, dragging Prussia by his white hair. The only sound was Prussia's cursing in German as he was dragged across the meeting room floor and unceremoniously dumped in Germany's arms.
"Deal with this scurvy dog! He deserves a good fifty lashes!" Germany facepalmed, dropping his brother in the process.
"Verdammt! Hey, West, that hurt scheißkopf!"
"Vhat did he do?" Germany asked, ignoring Prussia's whining.
"That scurvy dog decided to glumph!" England was cut off as Romano punched him in the stomach as he blushed a furious red.
"Chigi! Shut it bastard!" he hissed. Then he let out a strangled squeak as Spain crushed him in his arms.
"Roma! Where were you? I had to play with France all on my own!" Romano would have punched the overtly cheery Spaniard if his arms had been free.
"Chigi! Shut up tomato bastard! I don't want to hear about your fucking sexual exploits earlier with that perverted bastard!" Spain paused.
"Eh~? What sexual exploits? Call of Duty counts as sexual exploits?" Romano froze. Slowly he turned his head to meet England's eyes.
"Call of Duty," he said blankly. England's green eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Well m'fellow, some landlubbers would call it a duty, eh?"
Two seconds later France realised what they were talking about.
Eight seconds after that he exited the building via the window thanks to Romano's foot.
Ten seconds later the rest of the Nations cottoned on.
Four seconds after that Hungary was taken out of the room for an emergency blood transfusion.
Three seconds later she was followed by Liechtenstein.
Germany gave up.
I really fail at writing yaoi...
This was actually quite fun to write, despite the severe case of writer's block I got about halfway through. Call of Duty (and most other FPS games) actually sound incredibly dirty if you don't know what's going on... Yes, I have experienced this. Yes, I was mentally scarred until I found out what was going on. Yes, it has become a focal point of amusement for me ever since ^^
The Lambourghini... Fuuuuuuuuu~ I would kill for that car. It is a gorgeous car and more awesome than Prussia. It is also more expensive than I like (somewhere in the region of £160,000) but it is absolutely bloody gorgeous!
Virtual cookies will be given to you lovely people who review, because I love you lots for caring about my writing...
Do svidanya!
Anactolica ^^