Once again, when I should be working on other things, I do this instead.
This will be a short, multi-chapter fic.
For far too long that bastard Spain had been missing, leaving his charge alone in his way too fucking big house. Romano scowled, pulling the down stuffed blanket he ripped off of Spain's bed closer to his chest as the flamers in the hearth dwindled down to a lazy flicker, spouting out the same amount of light and warmth as a melted candle. "Bastard..." His growl echoed out into the barren mansion, rebounding against the walls before fluttering away under the pattering of rain on the roof three floors up. A sniff scuttled into the winter chilled air, but it went unanswered.
Days before, Belgium and her brother absconded to tend to political matters in their countries and all of Spain's human servants departed at the first flickering of night to visit their families, leaving Romano with the Tomato fucker. Or that's what it would've been if the bastard hadn't disappeared earlier that day without a single word. At first, the Italian assumed Spain was playing some kind of cruel game, waiting for Romano to cry out for his boss, but after the sun died behind the western seas and rain began to howl against the sides of the house, Romano became fretful for the safety of the elder nation.
Grumbling over the whine that threatened to pour out into the frigid air, Romano scooted closer to the dying flame, reaching out and splaying his tiny, pudgy fingers against the faltering aura of warmth radiating from the hearth. He hated this. This was worse than a disappointed frown plastered on Spain's face before he would retreat to his room, not to emerge until the next morning. Smoldering heat pricked at his hazel eyes, slithering down to tighten its willowy fingers around his neck and squeezed, catching Romano's breath before it could scratch out of his throat. Thunder bellowed amongst the clouds, cackling its fingers across dip of the overcast sky and flicked light down to the water-drenched fields, earning a yelp from the trembling child.
He whimpered as tears trickle down his cheeks, impossibly wide eyes frantically jumping between the curtained windows. A screech tore through his lips at the second roar of thunder, crumbling what little resolve Romano had remaining in his tiny frame, and he wailed, weeping into the blanket for his caretaker. But a pair of arms didn't wrap around his shoulders, cooing to him in those sweet Spanish whispers like he desperately desired and the comforting warmth failed to encase him in the coverlet of security he needed.
"S-Spa-ain, y-you b-ba-" His curses slurred against his tongue as tears streamed down into his mouth, bubbling up on his lips and staining the cloth pressed so tightly to his lips. Hiccups and yelps segregated the wails roaring through his throat and they drowned out the pattering onslaught of rain on the stone roof. Where the hell was he? Why would he leave Romano all alone for so long without telling him where the fuck he was going?
A yelp scraped through his teeth at the bellow of something heavy slamming against the front door, followed by the handles furiously clicking and more loud bangs. Romano remained frozen in his protective blanket, covering everything but his eyes with the silky, feather stuffed fabric as the pounding relentlessly persisted. It grew louder, roaring over the rain but Romano only whimpered. Many times over, Spain scolded him for answering the door without his knowledge... but it was raining outside, and he didn't even want to begin to think of how furious Spain would be if he came home to find a dead guy on his veranda.
Thick wads of nervousness gathered in Romano's throat, uncomfortably restricting his airways as he gulped the lumps down and rose to his feet, dragging the blanket behind him for a few feet before he reached the door. The rapping upon the door ceased shortly before Romano reached it, remaining eerily silent under the pattering of the rain and thunder. Unlocking the door with tender, trembling fingers, he pulled it back just far enough so he could peek at whoever was outside... finding his vision empty of anything as he stared up where an adult's face usually was.
But the strangled groan from his feet startled the poor child. His eyes shot down to the form laying sprawled out on its side, tattered red clothes and a mop of curls sticky with water meeting his sight. Whoever it was, breathed as if they had something around their neck, cutting off their airways as they tried to gulp down air to only find that it was nearly impossible. "H-Hey..." Romano nudged at the man's head with the tips of his socked toes, jumping back when he groaned and twitched from the contact. "B-Bastard, get up... You can't die out here... I'll get yelled at..."
The man twitched again, bracing his arms against the wooden beams of the veranda as he moved closer to the child, dragging his face on the ground while he grunted. "R-Roma..."
A cold jolt surged through the little one's body as he instantly recognized the raucous voice crackling from the man's lips and the glint of pure emerald in his fragile eyes. With a panicked gasp, Romano seized Spain's arm between both of his hands and used his entire body to drag the nation out of the cold, digging his toes into the wooden floor to keep himself from slipping. But he still lost his footing, tumbling back and smacking his head against the ground. He whimpered, clutching to the rear of his skull with pudgy fingers as he rolled to his side and curled up, desperately choking back the tears leaking out of his lids.
"Roma...nito..." An arm found its way around Romano's torso, pulling him into a warm chest once it reached his coiled body. "Rom...ani...to..." Spain's tomato scented breath washed over the child's forehead before his lips followed, surprisingly accepted by the little one curled up in his arms. "You're... not hurt?"
"B-Bastard-d." He cried into Spain's tattered coat, clutching the fabric between his fingers as his caretaker rubbed lazy circles into his back and hoarsely cooed to him with that silly charm he only used for Romano. The child hiccupped between sniffles, pulling away from the older nation. God, he looked terrible... his coat was torn in so many places, looking like a rabid animal attacked him and his hair stuck to his skin in clumps from the foul mixture of sweat, rain and blood. That jubilant glimmer was missing from his dulled emerald eyes, blankly staring at his charge and following every movement he made as he grabbed at the Spaniard's arm, tugging him away from the door and from the cold.
Romano slammed the opening closed, staring down at the puddle of water swirling with slivers of blood and small scraps of cloth. Spain shifted, dragging his head across the floor as he curled up and stretched out his hand against the wooden beams, reaching for his charge who was still standing by the entryway. "Ro…ma…" he croaked out from chapped lips, tenderly grinning at the quivering child and wordlessly beckoning him to his side.
Within seconds, Romano was clutching to that arm so much larger than his own, trying so feverishly to pull Spain closer to the warm flames flickering in the mantle, but he didn't have enough strength in his tiny body to drag the Spaniard's weight across the room. Bursting into sobs, Romano slipped on the floor again before he crawled on his knees to the smiling bastard and plopped down in front of him.
"Roma…" Spain cooed to the young nation, using what was left of his strength to pull himself over to the crying child. He wrapped his arms around Romano's waist, nuzzling his cheek into the soft apron that the child forgot to remove after his hard day of work and he weakly sighed, dampening Romano's slacks with his moist breath. His gestures of admiration only fueled the tears spouting from the Italian's finger squashed eyes and the sobs sputtering from his mouth. "What's wrong… mi tomate?" Oh, his voice was so grotesquely weak and jittery, sending painful chills down Romano's spine.
"Y-You, b-b-astard.." he managed to weep between hiccups and sniffling coughs. "H-How can you t-t-take care of me if you're… you're hurt?"
"Ah~ Roma." Spain sighed through his teeth, shifting his face so he could gently gaze into his sweet charge's eyes as he grinned, prying those fingers away from his eyes and taking the child's hand into his own. His kissed those pudgy little digits and Romano's tears hushed for a moment. "You're so.. thoughtful..." Suddenly, air hissed though his lips, matching the harsh jerk rippling down the muscles in his back.
"B-Bastard…?" What the hell was happening to that idiot? His grip tightened on the boy's hands, cutting off the blood to the tips of his fingers and digging his nails into the much paler skin, forming painful half moons. Thunder roared outside once more, accompanied by several bright flashes of lightning that flickered off of the rain dripping from Spain's body and forced another flinch in his muscles. Harsh, jittery breaths huffed from the elder nation's lungs, scraping past his teeth as it poured down Romano's legs, scalding them with every gasp and harsh clinch of the child's wrist.
Those nails finally breached the wall of flesh, biting into his skin and drawing blood as if they somehow grew sharper over the last few seconds. Ashen steam fluttered up into the air from his body, lazily forming shapes in the air and encircling the child more with every moment that passed and blocking out his sight. He couldn't move his arms in Spain's grip, nor could he jump away from the sudden burning heat eating away at his legs. "Rom…aagggghmmsss…" came a groan from the direction where Spain was supposed to be, but his weight was slowly dying away with every shift of his body, matching the gasps hissing through clinched teeth. His grip slipped off of Romano's wrist, allowing the child to finally scuttle away from whatever was happening to his beloved caretaker.
He couldn't even see the bastard anymore.
But… he could still hear those horrid groans and wheezes screeching from his throat like a dying beast, slowing growing weaker and laden with harsh breaths that scratched against the floor like his nails. Deep and frenzied they were, calling for Romano among every cough and heave. Just as the child considered reaching out to help his boss, atrocious cracks and pops reverberated in the air, resembling that of snapping a tree in two, and a screech bellowed from the folds of Spain's lungs.
He was hurting… in pain from some force that was alien to the child and it was only worsening, matching the scratching of his boots kicking at the floor. Oh god… Spain was in pain… fucking hurting and there wasn't a damn thing Romano could do about it.
Tears streamed from wide, fearful eyes and he shoved his fists against his mouth to keep a matching sob from weeping out. Romano stumbled back, hiding behind one of the wicker chairs his Spanish caretaker always kept at a safe but warm position in front of the fireplace, completely torn between staying where he was and rushing over to help Spain. But what the hell could he do? The smoke tore his view away from the man and the flashes of light from outside only made everything seem even more terrifying, freezing the child in his spot.
He had to get help… Spain needed someone dammit! Someone who could lift his fat ass off of that damn floor and fix whatever was making him hurt so bad… but everyone was home, far away from Spain's mansion out in the middle of fucking nowhere. And that screaming… it just wouldn't stop.
Spain screamed… and screamed… then screamed some more, each time crying out for his youngest lackey, yet he was met by only sobs and hiccups from the child keeping his distance. He squeezed his eyes shut as hands were thrown over Romano's ears, tiny palms trying to block out the horrid shrieks from his caretaker, but it failed to mute Spain's voice. More tears leaked from the boy's eyes. He was useless. Utterly useless, just standing there crying like a human child as one of the only people who ever showed that they cared for him was sprawled out in some fucking smoke, yelling for the one who couldn't help him.
And Romano had no idea how long had passed before he registered that the only noises in the house were his own sobs, the roar of thunder and the pattering of rain. No screams… no grunts from his caretaker. Just… silence.
He pried his stubby fingers away from his ears, and allowed his eyes to crack open. No smoke either. But Spain's clothes were still sprawled out as if the man evaporated while he was wearing them, leaving the outline of his body on the floor. Romano stared at the clothes and matching boots. The hell? Where the fuck did Spain go? With hesitant feet, Romano made his way over to the remains of his caretaker, noticing how Spain apparently was on his back before the smoke dissipated into the air.
"Spain?" Romano called out, searching around with his eyes for the elder nation, knowing that the bastard had to be somewhere. People just don't disappear in a cloud of smoke… well, except magicians and Spain was too much of an idiot to be one of those. "Dammit, bastard! This isn't funny!" Only the rain answered his grumbling. He could already feel the fear bubbling up in his stomach, spreading its cold fingers to every nerve in his body. Spain wouldn't do this… he wouldn't leave Romano if he was in tears. That bastard would coddle him until he stopped crying, and then coo and sing to him even more, as if to prove that everything was going to be okay.
So where was he when burning tears finally streaked Romano's cheeks? Or when sputtering whimpers pried apart his lips? "Sp-Spain…." He glared down at the clothes once more, clinching his tiny fists as he contemplated kicking the garments to make everything better. But, just as he cocked back his foot, he noticed a small lump in the center of the clothes… a moving lump. Breathing, if there was a better word to describe it. Romano stared at it, feeling the hair on the back of his neck prickling up as cold tingles washed down his skin.
Yet, that irritating curiosity that seemed to come with being a child got the better of him, and he crouched down, carefully bringing his tiny fingers up to the folds of Spain's favorite coat and parted the opening. Then, he unbuttoned the pale shirt underneath, brushing his nails against something soft and warm.
Soft…
Warm…?
More cloth gave way to his fingers, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the furry creature lying where Spain was only moments before.
A cat.
Quite large for its kind and its short fur was the same shade of brown as Spain's mess of frail curls, but the animal was soaked. It shivered under the onslaught of cold air, tail and ears twitching at the weak choking noises sputtering from Romano's throat. It couldn't be… Spain couldn't… no…. He couldn't be a cat!
"B-Bastard…?" The cat twitched again, making a strange groaning meow as it languidly tried to pry open its eyes. Such a brilliant green they were, so bright in comparison to its dark fur and it stared at Romano for only a moment before its eyes rolled back and its lids gently shut over them. He considered reaching down for the animal, but froze as he saw Spain's cherished necklace around its neck, glittering from the light of the dying flames in the mantle. Oh god… it… it really was Spain, wasn't it?
Panic buried itself into Romano's bones. What would he do? He couldn't care for an animal, much less the one who was supposed to be taking care of him! Not to mention, Spain never allowed animals in the house and his servants always enforced that idea for him. But they couldn't just throw the now cat turned Spain out into the fields…. And they probably wouldn't believe the child if he tried to tell them the truth. Romano stared down at Spain, still unsure what he should do.
Spain's consistent shivering caught the child's attention, and immediately, he scurried to pick up the cat. He groaned under the animal's weight, cursing his fatness as he drug him over to the blanket still piled up in front of the fireplace. Plopping down, Romano gently nestled Spain into his lap before he grabbed the corners of the duvet and wrapped it around the two, praying that it would keep his caretaker warm. Carefully, he unraveled the jewelry from around the cat's neck, slipping it into his own pocket.
Romano sighed, staring down at the animal in his lap.
Why was this bastard always getting into trouble?