A/N: I don't know what spurred this on. I like America. I like Romano. The hair curl intrigues me. Enjoy the drabble.
Romano always knew America was an idiot. He knew from the first moment he'd laid eyes on him, even before any ludicrous words slid out of his mouth. The way he stood, the tone of his voice, the carefree look in his eyes; it all screamed "I'm a moron!"
The first time he'd seen the foolish blonde, he'd had a hamburger in his mouth. A hamburger. Of all the inane things he could have been putting in his body, he chose to swallow grease taking a solid form. It didn't take long to know, that after a couple more times of seeing him, it was his favorite food.
Even now, as it was present day, he still saw the man munching and slurping away as if there wasn't a care in the world. Romano grit his teeth in frustration. This. This –this barbarian was leader of the free world? He couldn't believe it; wouldn't believe it.
"On your right!"
Romano was torn violently from his thoughts upon hearing a shout behind him. He turned halfway, completely alarmed as said nation who was plaguing his mind plowed through him. He hit the floor with a loud thud, shutting his sharp eyes in a wince. A bruising pain rose up his tailbone as more weight fell atop him.
"Fuck!" he yelled in protest and opened his eyes slowly to see a head of blonde hair tickling his chin. The man groaned above him and sat up slowly, making sure to rub his sore head. Romano placed his hand on his chin noticing the sting coming to the surface. This doofus had nearly broken his jaw.
"Get off of me!" Romano growled shoving at the broad chest hovering in front of his face. He could feel his face heating up in anger at the heaviness resting on top of him. It was uncomfortable.
America blew out a terse puff of air through his lips and opened his eyes to see what he had run into. He squinted behind his glasses and came face to face with a deeply frustrated Italian.
"Woah!" he sprung back a bit and landed on his butt in between said Italian's legs.
"Don't 'woah' me! I said get off!" he attempted another shove and frowned as America's knees were digging into his sides.
America ignored the smaller man's protests and attempted to stand up. "I said 'on your right'. You should have moved," he chided with a pout and leaned forward meaning to grab the wall for balance.
Romano froze instantly as the American's gloved hand trapped his curl against the wall, his eyes as large as dinner plates. A sudden stirring pooled like warm lava in his belly, collecting in a throbbing mass at the bottom. His jaw clenched and cheeks heated up, the reason the farthest from anger one could get. His face felt warm.
No sooner had the hand been there, had it left. America was on his feet in no time quickly scurrying away. He was out of sight in a quick panic before Romano even had time to react. He sat in a stunned, tense pile on the floor, his eyes glued to the wall straight across from him.
What was that about?
He slowly willed his muscles to relax and jaw to unclench as the brief feeling of warmth dissipated filling him with relief. That American…how dare he. How dare he touch…that. Even if it was an accident, how dare he!
Romano bit his lip and furrowed his brow. That man seemed to frustrate him with everything he did. Leaning forward to stand, Romano paused, his eyes catching something on the floor. Curiously he reached out and picked up the piece of paper. America must have dropped when he scrambled away.
Unfolding the paper with attentive eyes, Romano was surprised to find various envelopes wrapped up, all addressed to Russia. He blinked in surprise. What was the American doing with these?
He stood up and casually started walking down the hall, the opposite direction of the blonde. A wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he frowned. All five envelopes were addressed to Russia…
It suddenly hit him as the light bulb went off in his head. He stopped in his tracks and his eyes widened.
Of course. The Cold War.
Romano slowly began his decent down the hall again, a light, yet devious smile crawling on his lips. He knew America and Russia had been at odds during the Cold War only a few years ago, but who knew it was this bad. Stealing mail, now?
Even though they had announced the war was over and everything was fine, it obviously wasn't. Both nations still were on edge and didn't trust each other. So America had thought it was a good idea to snoop through the Abominable Snowman's mail? Not a good call, as usual.
Romano couldn't help but feel a requirement for blackmail against the naïve blonde. Who would have thought? Change was on the horizon.
"Hello?"
Romano peered up over the book he was reading, his leg crossed as he sat against a small table. America peeked his head curiously through the door and his blue eyes stopped upon seeing the Italian. He stood up and entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
"One of the Italians?"
The Italian brother frowned and placed his book down on the crease, minding not to lose his page. America scratched the side of his cheek.
"Are you the one who gave me this?" he asked stupidly and held up a small card that said to meet in the business hall on the second floor after the world conference was over. America had no idea who placed it in his bag but followed the instructions anyways since it said it was urgent.
"Yes," Romano muttered blankly. He could feel the anticipation crawling under his skin like ants. Oh, how he'd never dreamed of a moment like this. To take this blonde imbecile down a notch or two.
"Well what for? What's so urgent?" he asked leaning against the door and crossing his arms. Believe it or not he actually had other things to do.
Romano smiled and shut his eyes, tilting his head down. With a small chuckle he reached inside his uniform pocket and pulled out the envelopes. America blinked confused.
"What are those?"
"I found these on the ground yesterday," the southern Italian nation admitted. "I don't know exactly what they are but I thought you might know of them. They're all addressed to a," he paused to hold one up towards the light. "An Ivan Braginsky."
Glancing over he saw the American stiffen. Something akin to amusement filled his abdomen. He knocked his smile off and stared straight at the boisterous nation, cocking his head. "They belong to you, don't they?"
America didn't move. Somehow he managed to make his lips move. "W-where did you find those?" he asked, feigning ignorance.
"Falling out of your jacket."
Oh.
With a light sweat, America smiled and pushed off the door. "Hey. There's no harm done. I don't see what the big deal is. Sometimes my mail is missing too. I don't see why we would have to bring…Russia into this."
Romano caught the distinct hitch in the American's voice as he stumbled over the Russian's name. He knew, no matter how strong America claimed to be, he was still intimidated by the giant Russia who found it necessary to carry around a lead pipe.
"I think he has a right to know who's stealing his mail," Romano interjected, holding back the envelopes as America took a few steps towards him. He saw the blonde's eyes narrow slightly as he came to near eye level with the pointy-faced Italian.
"You want to tattle on me?" America asked incredulously. Romano could see the tendons in the Western nation's neck as his muscles tightened.
"Yes and no," said the brunette with a frown. "It really depends."
This caught the American off guard for a moment. He raised his eyebrow. "Depends on what?"
Romano let his knowing smirk slide on his face and relished in the unease filling the younger nation's blue eyes. It was a rare moment for him to knock this 'cowboy' off his high-horse. He was going to enjoy this.
"Depends on what you're willing to do for me."
It took a few moments for America to understand. "What I'm willing to…"He stopped, his eyes widening. With an accusing finger he shot back frowning. "Hey, wait! You're trying to blackmail me?"
Romano winced at how loud the blonde's voice rang; it was like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. He scowled and clutched the letters closer to his chest. "I guess you could call it that."
"Why would you blackmail me? What did I ever do to you?" America asked, his eyes wild and disbelieving. He'd never expected this from…uh…what was this guy's name again?
Romano scowled, his eyes narrowing at the unruly blonde. "You're so obnoxious. You never shut up and you constantly have something in your mouth. You act like you're God's gift to the world and you always stick your nose in everyone's business without even being asked. It's almost painful to watch day after day!"
America chewed on his bottom lip confused. "But…I don't see how that should bother you."
The Italian nearly fell over at the denseness of the blonde. "Of course it's going to bother me! You're annoying!"
"So you want to blackmail me because I'm annoying? Oh for the love of –" America stopped and put his hands up shutting his eyes. Taking a calm breath he stared at the angry Italian. "Look. I deal with England even though he's always yelling and insulting people, and I deal with France who gropes everyone constantly, and I deal with Russia even though he freaks the living hell out of me. It's just something we all have to do. You don't see me going around and blackmailing people, except for Canada, but that was one time…"
Romano huffed indignantly. "Blackmailing is more frequent than your unobservant brain is aware of. I'm just smart enough to take the opportunity when I see it."
America pouted at this, thoroughly unamused. "Dude, not cool."
"Tough. So are you going to take me up on my offer, or will I have to return these to Russia?"
At this, America shifted uncomfortably. He glanced to his side and rubbed the nape of his neck cautiously. The Italian stood patiently across from him waiting for a response before America sighed overdramatically. He stepped forward and stuck his hand out in silent surrender. Romano blinked curiously, tucking the envelopes inside his coat pocket. With a small smile he placed his own in America's for a brief shake. Good. So this idiot did know when to choose the better of the two offers.
Suddenly, to the brunette's surprise, a glint appeared in those two blue eyes, a large smile sliding on the western nation's lips. America's fingers squeezed tightly over Romano's as he jerked the smaller man forward into him.
"You should know better. The United States of America never surrenders," America said, mirth in his voice as he stared confidently down at the stunned Italian with wide brown eyes. The hand moved up to Romano's arm as playfulness seeped the American's eyes. "But I will be taking those letters, if you don't mind."
Romano scowled when America's other hand started wriggling in his coat way too close to Russia's envelopes. With a push, Romano managed to put a good deal of space between him and the blonde. "Don't be cocky. Like I would give them to you that easily. I'm not weak you know," he snapped.
America feigned surprised before looming over the smaller nation. Romano's breath caught in his throat unwillingly as America began to herd him towards the back of the room. His back bumped against the wall and he couldn't help but sneer.
"Weak? I never said you're weak."
"It's written on your face, you hamburger scarfing cowboy!"
America couldn't help a smile that appeared on his face. Cowboy? That wasn't an insult at all. For some reason this wiry Italian resembled a certain big browed mentor he knew. America placed his hands on either side of Romano watching the angry man glare fiercely at him.
"I can't control that."
Romano grit his teeth. "Stop laughing! I don't see what's funny."
"You're face," America said suppressing another giggle that wouldn't be appreciated. Calming down at how easily the tables turned, America took a serious turn. "Alright. Enough. Just give me the letters and I'll get out of your hair."
Romano smiled bitterly and crossed his arms over his chest. America sighed at the childishness of that act before trying to pry Romano's arms away from his coat pocket. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't weak. Romano kept his arms perfectly attached, gritting his teeth and gripping his arms like grim death.
"Come on, let go!" America whined frowning annoyed.
"Never. You let go!" The older Italian nation barked in defiance. He winced as America pressed closer, their legs now touching. Sucking in his breath, Romano jerked his head forward and ran his forehead into the blonde's.
America faltered, a small whine falling out of his mouth. He let go of Romano's arms briefly giving the brunette an opportunity to put a distance between them again. Romano ducked down ready to get away from the wall and America when America's arm shot out again blindly.
He had intended to grab the Italian's shoulder. Really he did. So when a pleasured cry echoed against the walls and traveled down his ears, America couldn't help but freeze in shock. He withdrew his hand as if it'd touched fire and stared with wide blue eyes confused at the flustered brunette. Romano slumped against the wall slightly, his own eyes darting at the taller nation, wide in disbelief.
Again. He'd touched it again.
And this time he hadn't been able to suppress the cry that flew out of his mouth traitorously when America's warm fingers grabbed his curl. The American was not wearing his gloves today so the searing heat that traveled through his bloodstream was that much more intense than the time in the hall.
"What is wrong with you?" he managed through a clenched jaw, his eyes full of fury. Romano did not want these feelings invoked by this clueless narcissist. Never in a million years would he willingly let this man touch him like that.
"W-wrong? I don't…uhm…"America stammered confused. His ears turned red just remembering the sound. What had happened? Why did the Italian make that noise out of nowhere?
"Don't touch that. Never touch that!" Romano growled unable to contain the anger he was feeling. His knees weakened, still affected by the touch.
"Touch?" America asked unsure. What had he touched? He leaned over the brunette, who stiffened, and peered down to what Romano seemed to be shielding with one arm. The small brown curl bounced off to the side carelessly as if completely unaffected by the circumstances around it.
"You mean this?" America asked, his eyes moving to look at horrified brown ones below him as he raised his hand. Pinching the curl between his fingers, he had no choice but to acknowledge that this was indeed the source of Romano's outburst.
At the feeling another wave jumbled down the smaller nation's body and he froze instantly. The heat gripped him from the inside out, sending a ball of mush rumbling to his lower regions and stroking every nerve in sight. America immediately let go of the curl with large eyes, unsure what to do when Romano bit his bottom lip almost painfully, his brown eyes nearly rolling back in his head.
"W-w-what's wrong with you?" America choked on his words yet still unable to back up. His feet were glued to the floor it seemed at the strange sight in front of him. "Why are you making that face all of the sudden?"
Making sure not to let any noises out, Romano attempted to keep his composure, despite the slight crimson dusting his cheeks. With shaky hands, he pushed feebly at the broad chest in front of him, his glower not nearly half as powerful as he'd have liked it to be.
"I s-said not to touch t-that, you ass," he growled. He lowered his head slightly, not wanting the blonde to see his face at the moment. It was pathetic.
"Why? Why do you do that when I touch it?" America, slightly more composed, decided to flick the curl once more, double checking to see if it was really the cause for that face. Yep. It definitely was.
Romano sucked in a breath, his shoulders tensing, as he curled his fingers almost painfully into the material of America's shirt. He looked about ready to collapse.
"F-fuck…Stop it, I s-said!" Romano grit out, the spot in between his legs tightening in bittersweet agony. He cursed anything and everything at that moment, trying to will away this infectious heat caressing his lower belly.
America found himself at a loss for words. This was strange. No – strike that. This was really strange. One moment this guy was like a smug little firecracker going off on him, now he was practically a shaking pile of mush gripping onto him like grim death.
"Fuck…"Romano breathed again, attempting to straighten himself. He was not going to miss his opportunity to blackmail America just because the dope was forcing him to get excited. That was completely unacceptable and vulgar!
America glanced between the composing Italian and his curl before his brow furrowed slightly. Suddenly an idea popped into his head. It went against everything he stood for, once his mind wrapped around this situation, but he figured it was better than being skinned alive by Russia. Taking a deep breath and praying to God for forgiveness later, he reached forward and surprised the brunette, nearly making him go pale.
Delicately America slid his fingers down the side of the strand of hair, his eyes analyzing the nation below him. At the gentle action, Romano's knees weakened all over again, his face flushing. The pool of heat sunk deeper in him, tickling along his length and sending a jolt down his spine, the pleasure resting at his tailbone.
He cursed at letting an involuntary moan fall from his lips, his forehead resting against the man in front of him for support. Romano's shoulders shook almost violently, his chest heaving as if he'd been underwater too long. What did America think he was doing? This was uncalled for! He wouldn't stand for this; he was going to kill him. He was going to – "Ooh…E' caldo, è così caldo..."
A lump started forming in America's throat, his hand shaking. He looked off to the side nervously and felt suddenly guilty. Not just for doing this, but for witnessing it. It felt wrong to randomly do this to the Italian, but it felt worse to look at it. It was like…he wasn't supposed to or something.
As if thinking the same thing, Romano kept his head down, almost buried in America's shirt. He wasn't supposed to see this face; ever. Another stroke and Romano couldn't help a bit of saliva escape the corner of his mouth. He would not let America see.
A brief image of a smiling brunette crossed his mind for an instant making his chest squeeze. Yes. This face was only for one person.
"I'm sorry," America said thickly, Romano barely registering the suddenly boisterous nation now timid, talking. He was confused a moment as another pleasuring stroke twisted his gut, until his eyes widened in understanding. America's other hand was busy making its way into his coat, his fingers snaking around for the envelopes.
Shutting his eyes tightly, Romano tried to push back without lifting his head. He removed one desperate hand from America's shirt and gripped at the invading arm.
"N-no. Why would I let you t-take these that easily? I said I w-wasn't weak, remember?" he said with a trembling voice. It sounded more desperate than anything.
"I'm not asking you to be," America said, still pressing forward for the papers against the offending grasp. "I just want these letters."
"No."
Annoyed at how persistent the brunette could be, America twisted his finger in a loop around the strand causing the Italian's head to press down harder against his chest. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Romano's breath ghosted across the thin material, leaving it moist and tickling America's bear skin. "Non toccarmi. Smettila. Non guardare, non guardare. Non devi vedere questo..."
"W-what?" America asked uncertainly at the quivering man below him. He sounded pleading yet angry at the same time. It made something stir inside the American as he focused on the spot just above Romano's head. He didn't really expect an answer anyways.
His hand started moving deeper into Romano's coat, the fingers gripping at his wrist not a threat anymore. They futilely gripped at his jacket sleeve but could not hold off the invader. America's heart lifted as he felt paper under his fingers. With a quick clasp of his hands he pulled the envelopes from the jacket and held them close.
He was about to step back when a hand shot out and clasped around his own. America jumped slightly before slowly glancing down. The panting Italian clung to him for a jumble of reasons. America had to give him credit; he was persistent.
"Let go," he said as calmly as he could. When no such action happened, the blonde rubbed slowly down the curl causing the smaller nation to jerk against him.
"A-ahnn…"Romano cut off with a gasp. He no longer could support his full weight. There was no way. His knees were too weak. Grasping onto the material that was America's jacket Romano resisted the urge to buck his hips. He would maintain some control, even if he had to fight for it.
Despite the growing heat vibrating inside his lower belly dancing under his skin and wracking his body with shivers, Romano refused to let go of America's hand. He was not weak. He would not give in this easily.
Apparently America realized this too and sighed into the top of his brown hair. "I'm sorry," he repeated again before sending a frenzy of tweaks against his curl. An explosion hit behind Romano's eyes as the heat dripped from the closest opening it could escape from, a wetness started to seep the front of his pants.
He gave a last shout of desperation, the sound coming out more like a euphoric sob as his head threw back. Both he and America met eyes for a brief moment before brown eyes rolled behind lazy eyelids.
America's blue eyes widened at the pink cheeked Italian, his forehead slick with sweat and a coating of need resting behind his brown eyes. Unwillingly the hand let go of America's as the brunette slumped back against the wall and slid to the floor in a panting, heated mass.
America hovered over him in slight awe for a moment before willing his legs to move away. He did not want to be around when the hotheaded Italian came back down to earth. Slowly, with a tight throat and pink ears, America exited out into the hall, envelopes grasped tightly in his hand.
Romano sat on the cold ground coming down from his unwilling high. When the black dots stopped invading his vision he peered around the room to find it empty. Anger began bubbling up where pleasure once was and he bit his lip almost to the point of bleeding.
He'd let that…that…he'd let him…
He couldn't even finish that thought and covered his face with his hands. How could he have let that happen? No – the real question was how was he to know? America was one of the last people he expected to do that to him, Sea land being the absolute last.
He felt so stupid and full of self-resentment. All he was left was the feeling of humiliation and a stickiness that coated his pants. Sighing and counting his losses, Romano stood up on wobbly legs and started to adjust his clothes.
Whilst fixing his jacket he paused, his eyes widening. Reaching inside he pulled out envelopes all addressed to Russia. He stared at them shocked when it suddenly dawned on him.
America reached inside the wrong pocket. All he'd took out was some dumb pictures and letters his brother had made for him. Standing in the silent and cold room, Romano slowly tucked the letters back into his pocket.
A slow smirk started crawling on his lips.
Perhaps he would have another chance to get even with America, especially considering what he'd just done to him. What he'd made him feel. Good things come to those who wait, or so he'd been told.
Carefully making his way toward the door he gripped the handle, a new found confidence inside him.
He would have another chance at this blackmail thing. And this time he would do it right. Only now, he was going to get more than what he'd intended the first time around. He was going to make America pay.
He still had a chance to show that blonde buffoon just how strong he really was. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.
A/N: Oh goodness. I don't know why I wrote this. It's so vulgar lol Title might not match the story. I just liked how it sounded.
R&R if you would. This is a rare pairing so I wonder what people have to say about it.
Translations:
E' caldo, è così caldo... – warm, so warm
Non toccarmi. Smettila. Non guardare, non guardare. Non devi vedere questo... – Don't touch me. Stop. Don't look, don't look. You cannot see this…