Spanish Lullabies
By: Melody Syper Carston
Oneshot: Cold.
A quiet sniffle made its way into the spacious living area, alerting the Spaniard on the couch. The sound was followed by the shuffling of feet and the whisper of blankets being tugged along with the feet. As the sound came closer, another muffled sniffle could be heard. The Spaniard watched with mild amusement as the monstrous mountain of thick blankets wandered towards him, completely concealing the person that was wrapped in the pile.
The mountain stopped directly in front of the Spaniard, swaying precariously from side to side. It emitted what sounded like an attempt at suppressing a cough before a brunette head—and with it, a lone curl, pallid skin, hazel eyes, flushed cheeks and a pouty mouth—popped out from within the mixture of various pillow and blanket.
"What are you doing out of bed, Lovi? Shouldn't you be resting?" Antonio asked, a curious look flickering in his eyes, swirling with the concern for the younger boy that stood in front of him.
Lovino didn't answer the Spaniard's questions. He merely muttered a quiet, "Don't call me Lovi, Jerk," before collapsing on top of Antonio. He buried his head in the crook of the other's neck, inhaling the familiar, spicy scent of Spanish sunlight and musky earth and something sweet like cinnamon.
Antonio could feel the heat radiating off of the smaller Italian man in waves of varying intensity. He frowned, leaning down to press his cheek against Lovino's forehead and noted that the Italian's temperature had risen once again. "Aren't you hot, mi amor?" Not only was the Italian hot-tempered, but he had also always been hot-natured, complaining any chance he could about how hot it was in Spain or how uncomfortable he was when the Spaniard would try to hug him because it was apparently 'too hot for hugs, get off of me.' But now, with the feverish Italian practically curled around him, Antonio was tempted to say the same thing.
Lovino shook his head, pulling the blankets around him tighter and shivering to add emphasis.
"Wouldn't you be warmer in bed rather than out here, though?" Antonio could feel the other male's face heating up, presumably due to blushing. When Lovino shook his head, Antonio answered back with a curious, "Why not?" to which the Italian answered in a completely incomprehensible mumble. "Lovi, you're going to have to speak up for me to understand you."
Lovino pulled away from the Spaniard's neck, cheeks now a bright scarlet and too embarrassed to make eye contact. "I said I was lonely, dammit."
Antonio grinned, "Aw, Lovi, you're so adorable! And you're face is so red like a cute little tomato~!"
Lovino decided to punch him—albeit half-heartedly—for the remark. He then sniffled pitifully, ruining the venomous glare he was aiming at Antonio. "Sh-shut up, jerk," he muttered, a yawn slipping into his voice.
The Spaniards chuckled, wrapping his arms around the Italian's waist and scooping him up bridal style. "Come on, Lovi; you should still be in bed." He carefully moved through the halls, making sure not to jostle the now dozing Italian in his arms. He'd rather not be lectured today, especially by a not only short-tempered but also sick Italian, thank you very much. Once Antonio made it to his own bedroom, he skillfully shifted the other's weight—enough to free one of his hands—and opened the door before slipping in and shutting it deftly behind him. He moved across the room and sat the Italian down on the fluffy pillows and extra blankets. Momentarily leaving the younger man's side, Antonio readjusted the blankets and shrugged out of his shirt. A shiver from Lovino alerted the older of the two; he quickly ducked under the covers and pulled the Italian against his chest.
A hazy warmth settled over the two, like a cloud covering the merciless Spanish sun—warm but not uncomfortable. It pulled the two into a peaceful half-awake state, eyes drooping more and more with each passing second.
In this drowsy state, Lovino didn't even complain as Antonio carded his hands gently through the younger brunette's silky hair—careful to avoid that lone curl—and murmured a soft, sweet lullaby in soothing Spanish as he did so. The ministrations continued to pull him deeper and deeper into a dreamless sleep.
"Duérmete mi niño
Duérmete mi sol
Duérmete cariño
de mi corazón.
Duérmete mi niño
que en tu cabecera
Por velar tu sueño
Un ángel te espera..."
X~*~X
A/N: I wrote this while getting over a case of the flu during the first week of school—I've decided I'm officially allergic to the first week because I catch something every time. And it's always on the third day back too. Anyway… Yeah. Reviews and stuff are cool. Thanks guys.
—Melody Syper Carston—