A/N: This is my first Spain/Romano fanfiction. They are actually my second favorite couple after US/UK and I always wanted to write something for them. So, when someone asked for a commission I figured I'd give it a try. As for the next chapter of 1953-1962, it's coming….really!
It was that time again. Oh, how Spain loved it. He longed for it, for the rush, the thrill, the feeling of his heart beating at the ultimate speed. It made him feel alive. It made him feel young. He could smell the excitement in the air as others, hundreds, also waited for the time. The adrenaline of the crowd pumped through his veins. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand, his eyes dilate and his legs unable to stand still.
He hopped slightly on one foot as his patience grew weary and he quickly swiped at his nose. Taking a deep inhale to soak in all of the frenzy, he turned to the irritated man beside him. "Are you ready?" Spain asked with his voice loud and chipper, a large grin shining.
"No!" Romano replied with bite. Despite holding his usual scowl there was something in the way that his eyes quivered from side to side that eluded worry. There was also the way he crossed his arms so tightly that he nearly appeared to be hugging himself. "You're crazy. You're all crazy." He shook his head as he eyed the insane crowd.
"Aw, Roma…" The Spanish man's smile lessened for only a few seconds before returning to its full size. "But, we've been doing this for years!"
"Great." Romano smacked his lips. "So, you've been crazy for years." At this, Spain laughed heartily, wiping a tear from the corner of his right eye. "I guess so." He said once catching his breath.
Spain's admittance to being at least slightly bit insane did nothing to calm Romano's nerves. He sighed as he took another glance around at the large group of people. He didn't understand any of them. As an Italian, Romano took great pride (if you can call it that) in avoiding anything and everything that could cause him any bodily harm. He wasn't a big fan of pain and would not consider himself a risk taker by any means. A quiet time in the backyard picking tomatoes was all he needed.
Unfortunately, his Spanish companion seemed to have a death wish. So did his citizens and other countries' citizens as well. Romano didn't get it.
"Come on, Romano." Spain said with a pout. "Running of the bulls is tradition and its fun."
"Until someone loses an eye…." Romano mumbled mostly to himself.
"It doesn't even last that long. 4-5 minutes tops." Spain placed an attempting-to-be-comforting hand on the Italian's shoulder. He smiled when he felt Romano finch under his touch. He didn't really understand the concern. His little tomate was one of the fastest runners he'd ever known. He bolts when he thinks a scary dog is after him. So, with running cattle with sharp pointing horns after him, he'll be fine.
Romano stood up straight, Spain was right. It was just a quick race. A fast scrimmage. There was many of us and only so much of them. So what if they were fast animals, that weighted a ton and could maim you? Romano inwardly groaned. He should just stop thinking sometimes.
There was no need to panic. He could do this. Romano exhaled after some soothing mental meditation. Some meditation that was not doubt accompanied by some frantic turmoil in between, that's how he rolled. But, just as he was truly beginning to calm himself the singing began. "Not the singing, anything but the singing. Nothing good comes from the singing." He pleaded almost silently, for the song meant it was coming.
The Italian again began to turn his head warily into the crowd, the sound of Spanish lyrics echoing all around him. He turned to the man next to him, the one of many really, but the only one that mattered. Spain smiled at him as he continued to chant as well. Romano didn't return the gesture, of course. Instead, he just opted to stare at the red sash around his waist.
"Listo?" Romano looked up at the shining green eyes and shook his head. Spain once more stopped his singing and placed a hand over the Italian's head, it quickly getting swapped away. "You'll be fine. No te preocupes." He winked just as the melody ceased and yelling ensued.
Romano ignored his words knowing there was no way he would not worry.
The crowd was getting rowdier. Taking a deep breath, Romano looked down at his watch that he refused to look at until now. He cringed at the small golden arms as the practically performed a countdown.
As the people around them became antsier, as some braced themselves, as some positioned themselves in a running stance, and as Spain looked back with a smile, Romano concentrated on his breathing. He didn't want to pass out before the run even began.
He stared back at this watched as those around him began to count down aloud, his heart exploded. This was it. With a swooping sound and a roar of the crowd, the first rocket was released into the sky.
Romano ran.
A trial of dust was left dancing where he once stood or Spain imagined anyhow.
Spain blinked at his absence, ignoring those zooming past him. His lips lifted at the corners as his eyes began to glisten in pride. He knew his Tomate was going to be okay. Looking up to find him, his smile brightened further when he saw Romano dashing through the crowd. Yes, he always knew the Italian was going to take this in stride. He knew he was going to zip through it all, knew he going to run to the finish, knew he going to run…behind a fence…
That was not anticipated.
Spain shook his head, clearing it from his thoughts. Moving his legs, he ran at a much less rushed pace than those around him as he made his way to the Italian huddling behind one of the barrier fences. "Roma—"
"I can't do it!" The Italian yelled as he shook his head frantically, catching the attention of several people standing beside him. They looked on confused, not understanding the panic when the bulls were still not in sight.
"But Romano…" Spain began and abruptly stopped, unable to think of any words to say. Any attempts to convince would be extremely difficult.
"I can't." Romano repeated, his knuckles becoming white as he gripped on to the wooden fence. "You go!" he said furrowing his brows deeply.
"Pero…"
"Just go!" The feisty Italian commanded once more.
As they stared at each other for a few seconds that seemed like thousands, Romano's state of panic rose even further when the running crowd began to shout. It was a clear indication of the whereabouts of the big animals. As Romano looked up and away from Spain, his eye widened. The bulls were coming in the distance, now fully visible.
Spain could too hear the difference in everyone's tone as he looked back towards the bull's direction. The people who were once trying to run around him or to swerve were now bumping into him. They no longer cared about being polite, not caring about pushing him forward if it meant they could get ahead and away faster.
Uncertain of what his next step should be, his own wide eyes turned back towards the scared Italian. "Run, bastardo!" Romano shouted, and with one last shove from a passerby, Spain obliged.
Watching Spain running in the distance, his brown curls bouncing with every step, Romano winced when the pack of bull came darting through. He immediately snapped his sights away from the running nation and looked down at his own hands grasping the fence. He could not handle seeing just how big they were, how fast they were. He could felt the wood rattle underneath him as he heard the people cheer and shout, the runners and watchers alike. But, he could not bring himself to a make a sound. If he was scared and nervous before then now he was a terrified mess.
He no longer feared what the large animal would do to him. They had come and gone, though he could still see them when he finally lifted his head. He swore that he could still make out the sound of their strong steps. Yet, he should be fine now unless one particular bull had he it out for him and decided to come back. No, now that he saw the retreating figures, Romano only had one thought on his mind.
Spain.
"Idiota..." Romano whispered with a shake of the head, his voice being drowned out by the loudness of his surroundings.
His face grimaced as he groaned, rubbing the side of his face with a sweaty hand. He was uncertain of what to do. Should he wait there? Should he run? Should he find his way to the finish? He saw others that stayed behind the safety of the fence make their way over to the end. They wanted to keep up with how things were going. Others stayed in their positions, now just conversing with those around them.
A couple of times the young gentlemen beside him would turn to him with a laugh. An invitation perhaps? But, Romano made it perfectly clear he was in no mood for chatting. That was one thing the Italian did know. The other was that Spain had better make it out okay.
A run doesn't last too long and Romano knows he hasn't been standing there long enough for it to be over. Yet, time around him seemed to be running on a turtle's pace. With each slow passing second his heart seemed to beat harder, faster, and louder than the last. He couldn't help but to imagine difference outcomes, all resulting in Spain getting injured. His favorite scenario was Spain getting stabbed right though his chest and getting dragged along.
Romano sighed deeply as he leaned completely upon the fence in front of him and buried his head in his arms. As he shook his head, he cursed everything; the day, the bull, Spain, but mostly himself. He could hear the sounds of a Spanish speaking voice asking him if he was ok. He knew it was the same young man as before but he didn't have the energy or courage to reply.
He continued to whisper curses. He knew if anything were to happen to Spain that it would be his fault. It had to be, didn't it? It was his fault for being such a coward, for wasting Spain's time. If he wouldn't have given up and leaped behind the barrier, Spain wouldn't' have been distracted. Spain lost a lot of time standing there, waiting for him. Yes, he had let Spain down because he was too weak and scared. Spain was probably out there running away from a bull that was only a few feet away, all because of him.
Romano groaned once more as he pressed his palms against his closed eyes. Why couldn't he ever do something right? Do what other's expected of him? No, failing was what other's expected. Instead, he should be fighting to prove them wrong. To show them the he didn't have to screw everything up and let people down, or humiliate them.
Romano was stuck in his world of self criticism and depression when he heard a young girl near him gasp. The Italian's Spanish was rusty at best, but years of hanging around the country of Spain himself did help him quite a bit. He narrowed his brows as he tried to make out what an older woman was telling the girl who released the surprised sound.
As Romano strained his ears and brain, his eyes widened when he finally understood enough. His heart beat faster than ever when he heard about several people that had been hurt. His nightmare had become a reality but he was still confused about what to do.
Fortunately for the flustered Italian, the sound of the final rocket helped him make his decision. The last rocket signified that the bulls were officially in the ring, thus making the run over and the outdoors safe. With the new found information, Romano wasted no time in jumping over the fence and running down the street.
Romano panted as he made his way down to the arena, occasionally having to zigzag around others still strolling down the road. Though the Italian ran, he had no idea how he was expecting to find Spain with so many people around.
As Romano turned from side to side, glazing at his surrounding it dawned on him. If Spain was truly hurt they wouldn't just leave him, lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from his abdomen wound from the bull stabbing. Romano shook his head to remove the image of a bull standing on two legs stabbing the Spanish nation with a knife.
Despite his ramped imagination, Romano's reasoning was logical. Why would they leave a hurt young man that was hunched over in pain suffer alone? Romano squinted with a tilt of the head as he saw just that.
That was not anticipated.
There in the short distance he saw him in his white outfit, his red sash, and brown curls. He was slightly bent over as he walked. Romano couldn't tell if he was holding his stomach or nursing his arm but it was apparent that something was wrong. How could they just leave him here? Their own country (not that they knew) stranded. The bastards…
Angry and throwing out multiple curses, the Italian sped his way to the injured Spanish man. He made it close to him, only a few feet when his usual sense of guilt and self loathing came crashing in. This of course, made him stop as images of him running for cover while Spain watched with confusion came seeping back. Embarrassed, but knowing full well that he had to confront the man; Romano took a deep breath and before he opened mouth.
"I'm sorry." he shouted, immediately dropping his head down to the ground at the first movement Spain made to turn around. "…You bastard…" Romano cringed at his own words, frustrated that he couldn't even do this right. "I'm sorry, ok?" He repeated, lifting a hand when he heard Spain attempting to say something. "Let me finish." He commanded, still not removing his sight from his black shoes. Shoes that Spain told him probably weren't the most comfortable for this but, hey, they looked nice.
"It's my fault." Romano said lower than he meant to. "That you're hurt, I mean…" his eyes shifted from one foot to the other. "Damn it." He growled to himself. "I couldn't stop being myself and took the cowards way out and—and now you're hurt." He closed his lids and shook his head. It was hard getting any words out. They were never one his strong suits.
"You had to wait for me." He slightly groaned. "That's what kept you behind." Romano took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting, not knowing what to do. He ultimately decided to put them into his pants' pockets. "So, I'm sorry I ruined the run."
Just as Romano was going to lift his head he backed out, still too full of embarrassment and self doubt. "And—I'm sorry you're hurt. I hope it's not too bad." He paused. "The stupid bull didn't chew off your arm or anything, did it?" He asked as he released a nervous fake laugh. Quickly quieting down, Romano swallowed nothing except for some of his pride (the little he had now anyways). "I was worried…"
"Roma…" Spain's voice lingered through the air behind the Italian. Behind him? Eyes widening, Romano stiffened as he turned his head around immediately coming in contact with the Spanish man's stare.
Spain was grinning, his teeth practically shinning as if the sun was reflecting its rays. But, what pained Romano the most was the way Spain's brows curled with sympathy. At least that's what it thought it was.
"Whaa..I.." Romano gargled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Spain didn't look injured at all. In fact, he seemed to be quite the opposite. He looked a little tired, a little sweaty but, all in all just fine, especially as he held onto numerous churros wrapped with pastry paper. Romano blinked several times as he studied Spain up and down, ignoring the smirk that now covered the man's lips.
He was too busy trying to solve the grand mystery. Now, that Spain was behind him there were only two explanations that were possible. Spain was either a ninja or he had been embarrassing himself in front of a stranger. Romano really hoped Spain had somehow received special ninja training from Japan. Yet, Romano's luck was never that great. So, after blinking several more times to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he bit down on the inside of his cheek and turned back around. "Please be no one…" he whispered so softly to himself. To his despair there was a pair of lovely yet incredibly confused brown eyes staring back at him.
"Hola?" The man said with a one sided nervous smile.
"I…" Romano again mumbled as he now studied the new Spanish man.
He was about the same size and height of Spain. He had similar brown curly hair. He even held his own pack of churros in his hands. Clearing, Romano was wrong about him nursing an injured arm. So many similarities, but no…that was not him and the coffee eyes told him so.
Romano was speechless. Thoughts came rushing into this mind about what to say but only a couple of syllables were able to leave his mouth at a time. So, he just continued standing there, gawking, knowingly disturbing the stranger that had to endure his ranting. The man was obviously feeling uncomfortable, his eyes shifting from side to side occasionally.
They stood there in silence for who knows how long until Romano heard Spanish being spoken from behind him. He flinched surprised by the sudden sound; he had kind of forgotten he was back there.
He noticed the brown eyes of the stranger look up over his head and smiled as he replied back. They went on with small talk for a while. Romano was just happy the attention was away from him and was hoping that the man hadn't understood what he had said earlier. Then again, did that make it worse? That just means he looked like a crazy person yelling at a stranger that doesn't understand him. Fortunately, he didn't have enough time to over analyze the pros and cons of language barriers when he heard the man say his goodbyes and walked away.
They were alone now, Romano stiffed at the thought. This time was much more frightening then the last. "Roma?" Spain said as Romano refused to acknowledge him. "Romano?" Spain said again, causing the Italian to step back in surprise when he was hit face to face. Maybe Spain did receive special ninja training. "It's okay." Spain smiled at him. "I told him you confused him for me." He paused. "He was a very handsome man." Spain snickered at his own joke.
"Tch…" Was the only thing Romano could say back.
"So, what did you say to him?"
"Nothing!" Romano replied much too quickly and loudly, causing the Spanish man to raise a brow in questioning. "I was just yelling at you for leaving me." Lie. "You just left me there at the fence stranded." Lie. "I was there waiting forever with no sign of you." Super lie. Romano had no idea how fast or long it took Spain to come back to the fence, if at all. He hadn't spent a second there after the last rocket flew. Fortunately for him, Spain nodded regrettably.
"Si, I took a long time but, this really good bakery was having a special on churros to celebrate he run." He grinned, lifting up the package in his hands.
"Bastard…" Romano said as he crossed his arms and looked away.
"Was that all?"
"What?" Romano responded snapping his frowned face towards the Spanish man.
"Was that all?" Spain lifted a lip. "That you told him."
"Oh." Romano blinked before frowning further. "Of Course, I didn't have time to yell some more." Romano inwardly cringed.
"Okay." Spain said with a wide smile, happily going along with what he said. Man, sometimes Romano just wanted to punch him in the face. "Churro?" Spain offered, handing the powdery dessert to the shuffled Italian who hesitantly accepted. He had to admit that they were rather good.
Nodding, knowing that Romano was enjoying the treat despite not wording his approval, Spain ruffled the Italian's hair before beginning to walk off. Romano scoffed, quickly attempting to fix the damage done to his head. When he figured he did all he could to look presentable, Romano power walked back to the Spain's side. Feeling the Italian's presence next to him once again, Spain smiled but continued looking forward.
They walked in silence, the only sound being the soft chews they made while eating the sweet pastry. Romano again was lost in his own world, this time simply enjoying the atmosphere and the light breeze around them. However, his world was again interrupted in a flash.
"I'm happy that you were worried about me." Spain said cutting through the silence. He soon stopped his steps and turned around to the still Italian when he noticed he was walking alone.
Romano had frozen. He had heard him but, how much? Romano should be defending himself, shouting out denies, anything yet, he couldn't. So, instead he stared back at the green orbs that looked back at him shinning.
"Oh." Spain chuckled, walking towards the already stunned Italian and grabbed his chin, tilting it up. Still unable to move, Romano clinched his fists as Spain's eyes changed from bright and cheery to something much more serious. The smile that danced on his lips had also shifted to a smirk as he leaned in and closed the gap between them.
Romano eyes widened at the pressure against his lips. He didn't respond, couldn't, he was too in shock.
Opening his eyes just slightly, Spain smirked against his lips. He brought his hands up, cupping the Italian's face, tilting it even further. As Spain deepened the kiss, he practically demanded for Romano to open his mouth and with a gasp he did just that.
Sugar and cinnamon was all either tasted, the flavors adding some sweetness and spice to the already passionate kiss. Though Spain did clearly demonstrate his skills he cut it off short. Pulling away slowly, he opened his eyes, watching as Romano did the same. As Romano's eyes swiftly shifted to slightly petrified, Spain's playfulness gradually returned to his face.
"Te perdono." Spain whispered close before standing up straight, the glee now fully back. Wasting no time, Spain promptly spun around and began to walk again without another word.
Romano blinked once, twice, as he awoke from his trance. Seeing Spain up ahead of him in the short distance, Romano tried his hardest to comprehend what he just happened. He was finding it an impossible task however, his brain wasn't working. So, all he could do was place two fingers on his lips, took a deep breath through his nose, and took the first step.