Summary; It's Lovino's first winter in New York. One morning, he goes out only to later finds that he has lost his mittens and decides to retrace his steps. What he didn't expect to find was the Spanish bum who stole them.
Rating;T for now, but it may go up.
Warnings for this chapter; Language.
Pairings;Spamano. I may think of more as the plot develops in my head.
Disclaimer;I do not own Hetalia or the characters. I am only using them.
Notes; I am not giving up on my other fanfiction! I'm just taking a little break.
So... I want to explain this setting a bit, because it's kind of confusing.
I didn't want there to be much technology, and as of late I've been obsessed with 1920s America.
However, I wasn't sure if I could accurately pull it off. So! This setting, the general culture and some of the language is inspired from the 1920s, but it's not exactly supposed to take place then.
Simply put, it's an alternate universe based loosely on the twenties.
Understandable? If not, well, I don't know what to tell you, but enjoy the story!
His first experience with ice wasn't all that fascinating. No, not something as simple as an ice cube, though the clusters of frozen water and trapped pockets of air were admittedly just a little bit fascinating... It was that early December morning was his very first snowfall, which he hadn't even seen pictures of prior to that day. At first it wasn't anything too spectacular; he'd stirred awake in the middle of the night with a scratchy throat and decided to trudge down to his kitchen for a glass of water (was it ironic that he had not put ice into this particular glass?), and that was when he saw it. White, feathery blobs that seemed to dance carelessly past his window, landing on the frigid ground, adding to the slowly growing sheet of virgin snow that was already there prior.
Lovino was Italian born and raised. Not once could he remember it actually snowing in Rome - sure, there were a few, large rainstorms, but for it to actually snow in Rome was almost unheard of. Not even his grandfather had experienced such weather in sweltering, sunny Italy. He could remember being able to sunbathe atop his roof well into the fall months and only being a little bit chilly. Many afternoons were spent sprawled out next to Feliciano, his little brother, pretending to be annoyed with his constant chattering, but actually feeling completely content and even a bit lethargic in the lazy afternoon sun. That was when life was easy and simple...
And then they had to move to fucking godforsaken America. New York, to be exact. It wasn't too bad at first. They'd arrived in late April, when the Earth was warming up and the weather wasn't so terribly chilly. After taking out a few loans the pair was able to rent out a small building with a kitchen and open up a small, Italian restaurant just like Feliciano had always dreamed of doing. It wasn't easy, for their English wasn't the best at first and there were some Americans who weren't so keen on the new foreigners, the degos. Quite aware of the stereotypes that Italians had (violent, controlled by the Mafioso) and because of that Lovino really did try to be on his best behavior. Italy was miles away and he missed his home, but he and his brother had a pretty good life here, and Lovino wasn't about to jeopardize that.
But enough about that... Because it was snowing, damn it!
And to set the current scene, he was living on the eighth floor of a rather small apartment complex that overlooked an unkempt, overgrown garden (he estimated that no one had cared to prune the area in at least four years, and since the Italian quite enjoyed gardening, he would know) populated by gnarly, old trees and browning crab grass. In truth, he hated that he had to pick a room that looked out over this ugly plot of land, but it was cheap and he didn't have the funds to go and buy some pricy flat deeper in the city. Scowling out the window, he trumped back to his undersized bedroom and crawled under the heavy blankets, taking a short moment to reach over and flip his room heater's switch up to a cozy level nine. It was then that he decided he didn't like the snow, especially not when he lived in a much-less-than-gaudy apartment with horrible heating.
Some hours later he awoke to a shrill screeching that was definitely coming from outside his window; it took him a moment to realize that it was just the sounds of the harsh winter winds and his alarm clock's bells ringing mixed together - not some kind of ghost or abandoned child left out on the streets. With a dissatisfied grumble, the young man sat up, slamming a hand down on the annoying electronic before rubbing the crusty sleep out from the corners of his hazel eyes. The snow seemed to have become much more relentless, the wind was so harsh that the screen on his window seemed to have been ripped out and blown away (he noted, rather annoyed, that he'd be the one who had to pay to replace it). Well, at least he had an excuse to call into work today and say that he couldn't make it. Not that he thought Feliciano would be too keen on opening up the restaurant in weather like this.
Hours were spent just staring out of his porch window, huddled underneath one of his thick blankets and glaring at the fast-falling flakes of ice as well as the clouds, which were giving absolutely no indication of this appalling weather letting up any time soon. Just great. He'd read through all of the books sitting on his shelf and the radio signal wasn't coming through (thank you, shitty weather) so there wasn't much to do. With a sigh he lifted the steaming cup of coffee up to his lips, nursing it with care as the bitter liquid trickled down his throat and warmed his insides up. Something about the snow gave him a sense of isolation and heavy loneliness; he felt as though he was the only living being in this quiet world, for even his neighbors, who were usually arguing quite loudly, had become deathly silent.
For most of the day the only sounds in his apartment were of him sipping at his coffee or quietly padding across the chilly wooden floor to brew a new cup. Lonesome, but peaceful. Maybe he could get used to this weather (now that he had moved far up north, he expected to see it quite often), given that the next time a blizzard started up, he'd get to enjoy this kind of relaxed quiet again. A 'winter wonderland' was truly an appropriate description. That unkempt plot of land behind his apartment suddenly didn't seem too ugly; the way the snow piled up on the limbs of the dead trees looked almost beautiful, and there were enough of the fluffy flakes that the dead grass was no longer even visible...
Of course, this wasn't something that was going to last forever, nothing ever did. "Lovino!" His door slammed open as his overly-affectionate brother clambered in and decided to rip the peacefulness away from him. "Do you see the snow? It's beautiful!" Feliciano smiled cheerfully, kicking off his snow-covered boots and throwing off his jacket before practically skipping over towards the elder Italian. "Yeah, sure..." He muttered, placing his coffee down and offering an arm. "Come here, it's cold." He offered, wrapping the blanket around Feliciano once he cuddled up to his side. Although he had decided that he didn't like this weather, it had put him in an oddly compliant mood. "Thanks, big brother." Feliciano cooed happily. Not much more was said as the pair turned their gazes out the window, save for Feliciano's occasional chatter about something that Lovino only half listened to. Every now and then he would make them each a cup of coffee, but the majority of the day was spent watching as the icy snowflakes collected outside of his suddenly not-as-ugly apartment view.