Flower

Romano puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms over his pink cladding chest. His face was red with anger as he muttered to himself, trying to avoid his annoying little brother. He had been walking through the large house, kicking and breaking things in his anger.

"Stupid tomato bastard!" He snapped. "Why do you want my stupid brother instead of me? What's wrong with me!" Romano gave the table a hard kick. The next thing he knew, a large vase crashed down on him, pushing him to the floor. He let out a strangled cry as it cracked on top his head and left cuts on various places of his body.

The little nation waited. He waited for Spain to have heard his cry and come check on him. That was what happened when the bookshelf fell on top of him. No, Spain wasn't coming, he had resolved after some time of sniffling from the throbbing feeling in his forehead. Romano reached up and touched where his head hurt most, expecting a large bump to have formed there. Instead, he pulled his hand back to see the crimson color of fresh blood.

Just seeing the red liquid made him squirm and sent jolts of pain through his whole body. Romano hated blood. Hated it so much he couldn't stop as little tears sipped out of his eyes without his control.

"Why are you crying little girl?"

Romano looked up when he heard the voice. He didn't recognize the face and stayed silent, examining the boy standing in over him. He had blonde hair slicked back, hidden under a pirate like hat. His eyes were so bright blue that they could have been stolen pieces of the sky.

"I asked why you were crying," he repeated, finally really looking. At seeing the blood running down Romano's forehead, his sky eyes widened. He reached out and offered his hand, taking the Italian's without a question. "You're bleeding. We have to stop that." The boy started pulling Southern Italy away, not giving him a chance to say a word.

When he finally regained his voice, Romano cursed violently. "Hey! Don't tell me what to do you bastard!" He pulled his hand away, moving it to swipe blood away before it fall into his eyes, already feeling it running passed his eyebrows. "I can take care of myself!"

"That is no way for a lady to speak!" The blonde snapped back, glaring. "Now, come on, we need to stop the bleeding before it gets worse!" He latched onto Romano's hand again, tugging him along in a grip tight enough not to pull out of but lose enough so not to hurt.

The little Italian didn't get a chance to protest as he was pulled through a door and into what seemed to be a bathroom. He was shoved into a seat. The blonde walked over to a cabinet, pulling a white wooden box, and setting it on the floor in front of Romano's chair. He took a piece of fluffy white cloth from it and started dabbing at the forehead wound.

Romano pulled back, hissing. "What the hell are you doing?! That hurts you little bastard!"

"Please stop cursing like that, it is not proper," the boy stated, then started dabbing at the blood again, gentler this time. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I need it cleaned before I can bandage it."

"I said I don't want your help!" The nation shot to his feet, only to have the world start spinning. He fell back into the chair, holding his head. "Dizzy."

"That is what happens when you do not treat your wounds," the boy explained. He poured some type of clear liquid on a fresh piece of white fluff. "This will sting," then pushed it lightly against the cut.

"Chigi!" Romano gripped onto the chair's arms so not to jump. The boy pulled the cool liquid away soon enough the quickly placed a large bandage over the cut. The Italian tried to twitch his eyebrow, only to discover it was covered by the bandage. "Damn it bastard."

"You're welcome," the blonde stood, putting the white box away. "The least you could do is thank me without adding all those inappropriate profanities. It truly isn't proper."

"Why should I fucking thank you?"

He turned around, looking Romano straight in the eyes. "Ms. Hungary told me head wounds bleed the most and to always treat them right away. You're welcome."

It took him a moment, but the nation's eyes widened when he realized what the blonde meant. He could have lost a lot of blood if no one had helped. "Fine! Thank you bastard."

"I asked for one without profanities," he sighed. The boy held out a hand, offering it to Romano. "Now, come on, I'm showing you back to the front of the house so you do not get lost again."

"I wasn't lost!" He raised a blonde eyebrow. "I was only a little lost! Besides, I don't want to see that bastard Spain."

The boy raised both eyebrows this time. "Mr. Spain is here? I did not know." He sighed, looking slightly annoyed by this. "No one tells me anything! Come on now, you are going to accompany me to meet Mr. Spain." Romano opened his mouth to protest, but the blonde continued, "You don't have to go with him. You can stay here with me. I just would not feel right leaving someone like yourself here alone."

Huffing, Romano stood up and muttered a fine. The boy smiled and took the Italian's hand, causing both their face's to heat up, before leading the two of them out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The little nation found himself staring at the blonde, trying to figure out why he looked do familiar. When they had gotten to the main room and he still didn't know, he let out a sigh and gave up.

The two found Spain playing with the youngest Italian. It seemed as if Veneziano didn't know what was happening as the Spaniard tried to teach him a game of some kind.

Neither noticed the new occupants until the blonde boy cleared his throat. "Mr. Spain."

Spain looked up, eyes widening when he saw Romano. "Roma! There you are! I couldn't find you so decided to try and teach Veneziano a dance." He turned to the youngest boy and did a motion, causing him to spin.

Northern Italy smiled when he had caught his balance, running over to hug Romano's legs. "Big brother! Mr. Spain said that you disappeared when he brought you over. I got worried and was about to come looking for you!" Veneziano stated, nothing but truth in his voice.

Despite how hard he tried, Romano couldn't be angry with his little brother. He simply ruffled the littlest boy's hair then pried him from his legs. "That's because the dumb tomato bastard annoyed me."

"Big brother!" Veneziano reached up on his toes and ran a finger across the bandage on the older child's head. "What happened? Were you hurt?"

"I-I took care of it Ita," the blonde stuttered.

That was when both the Italians realized the other boy was still standing there. Romano watched as his face turned a bright color of red, pieces of sky pointed to the ground. So, this nice blonde boy who had been there to take care of him favored his baby brother over him as well? He let out a growl of annoyance. Everyone favored Veneziano! Even that bastard Spain!

"Idiot!" The eldest snapped, pushing the blonde's shoulders and running out of the room. He had hoped that someone would finally like him better than his brother, but he was obviously wrong.

"Roma!" Spain called, moving to run after him, but stopped when the littlest Italian stepped in front of him.

"Big brother Spain, can you give me a pig back ride?" He asked sweetly.

The Spaniard smiled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Of course Ita," he picked him up.

Veneziano looked to the blonde before Spain pulled him away. "Holy Rome, go talk to fratello!"

Romano had wondered outside into a garden by now and was stomping at a flower bush, trying to destroy all the budding blossoms. "Stupid, idiot, bastard!" He said a new word every time he crushed another flower. Water was picking at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would not cry over a boy who's name he did not even know, over a boy who had been kind to him, over someone with stupid pieces of the sky as eyes. "I'm just as good as my brother!"

"What did I say about those profanities? They aren't proper."

The Italian froze in his antics. He watched as a pale hand reached forward and grabbed the single flower he hadn't crushed yet. The blonde smiled, putting it behind Romano's ear. "There, so the whole bush doesn't go to waste."

He pushed the boy's shoulders, trying to get him onto the ground. Romano couldn't understand why he had to be so weak. When he'd realized it wasn't working, the Italian glared at him. "Shouldn't you be inside playing with Veneziano?" Saying his brother's name with so much hatred in his voice caused his heart to hurt.

"No, I wanted to play with you," the blonde said. "I'm Holy Rome. Can you tell me your name?"

"Romano," the Italian muttered, tensing his jaw.

Holy Rome tilted his head to the side a little then reached forward and swiped at the corner of the other's eyes. "Romano, why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying bastard!" He answered back immediately. He rubbed at his eyes quickly, making sure the salt water hadn't slipped out when he wasn't playing attention. "Now, go away! You obviously want to play with Veneziano!"

The blonde smiled. "No, I want to play with you Romano. Maybe later all three of us can play together, but I'm playing with you right now."

Not knowing what to say, the little nation growled. "Damn it! Why are you being so nice to me?" Now I can't be mean to you, he wasn't going to admit.

"Those profanities again," Holy Rome sighed, rubbing his forehead, "a young lady should not be talking like that."

The Italian hissed, "I'm not a girl! I'm a boy just like you!"

This seemed to take the blonde by surprise. He did a double take, looking over the pink dress Romano was wearing. "But only girls wear dresses."

"Stupid bastard Spain made me wear this!" He snapped. "If I had the choice I wouldn't be wearing it!"

Holy Rome just nodded, figuring it wasn't his place to ask. "It still is not proper for a boy to be mouthing so many profanities either. Please refrain from doing so around myself. Plus, Ita is your younger sibling so you shouldn't be saying that around her either."

"Her?" Romano laughed. That was why his little brother was in a dress, not because Austria was like Spain, but because he was stupid. "Veneziano is a my little brother. He's a boy too."

The blonde's eyes widened and he stumbled back a little. "Do all the boys in your family wear dresses?"

Romano shrugged. "I'm not sure. I never saw Grandpa in one but I'm sure he would have worn it," he rolled his eyes.

"Well then," Holy Rome cleared his throat, "even if you are a boy, you look pretty in your dress Romano." He face turned red and he looked toward his shoes.

The Italian was glad for that. If the blonde had been looking at him, he would have seen Romano's cheeks turning a red that could have matched the crimson of his blood. "Come on potato boy, let's go find Veneziano!" He snapped, grabbing Holy Rome's arm and pulling him out of the garden, all the while making sure the flower didn't fall out from behind his ear.


I really can't help it. This couple is just too adorable for me not to write about. I mean, there is nothing wrong with Chibitalia/HRE, but Chibimano needs some love too! Besides, I think this is cuter than Spamano...(waits for flaming attack) I'll probably end up writing more of these two(being more than ninety percent sure.

Thanks for reading.

~Goddess of the Multiverses.