He heaved a deep sigh as he stood there, studying the massive building before him. He knew this mansion all too well. Indeed, he'd grown up within those walls. His copper eyes narrowed slightly as he thought. If that cheery jerk hadn't so enthusiastically invited him over, there was certainly no way he'd have come all this way. He had far more important things to do! At least, that's what Romano told himself. With another sigh, the brunette Italian made his way over to the large double doors and knocked loudly. A small growl escaped him as he waited impatiently. That idiot Spain must have forgotten he was coming. The nerve of him!
Just as Romano began to contemplate kicking the doors down, they swung open in a fluid motion. Before he could react, Romano felt himself pulled into a tight hug by an all too familiar Spaniard.
"Romanooooooooo!" Spain sang out cheerily, emerald eyes sparkling with obvious joy.
"L-let go of me, you jerk!" Romano spat as he tried to break free.
The Spaniard chuckled as he released the Italian "Take it easy, amigo! Is that any way to greet me?"
Romano crossed his arms in response.
"Oh come on Romano! Tell me, how was your flight? I bet you're hungry, am I right? ¡Tengo la comida perfecta planeada para la cena!" Spain went on excitedly as he ushered the Italian inside.
"You're so stupid, Spain! I can't understand you when you talk so fast!" Romano snapped. Though that wasn't entirely true, it did silence the Spaniard for a few moments.
Spain ran a hand through his messy brown hair sheepishly "I'm sorry, Romano. It's just so good to see you!"
Romano felt his cheeks color and he averted his gaze. Mannaggia! Why did Spain always have to say things like that? Whenever he said things like that, Romano always felt as if he were still a small, bedwetting child under the Spaniard's care. He hated that. Couldn't Spain see he was all grown up?!
"You're tired from your flight. I understand; mi hijo" Spain said with a smile "If you need anything I'll be in the kitchen fixing dinner."
Romano blinked slowly as he watched the Spaniard walk away. Slowly, Spain's words sunk into his mind and he blushed furiously "W-wait a minute! Spain! I'm not your son, you jerk! You hear me?! Mannaggia!" he called out.
"Just calm down, Romano!" Spain called back; clearly unfazed "We're having a real treat tonight! Paella!"
"You can keep your stupid paella!" Romano shouted "I hate you so much!"
He waited several moments, but gained no reply. The Italian felt his heart sink a little. It figures. That jerk didn't even have the decency to acknowledge he'd said anything! Stupid Spain. Romano clenched his fists, wondering why Spain had to be so irritating. When he spoke, he always said the most ridiculous things… and then he'd turn right around and ignore him! Not to mention, Spain was always so happy, like nothing could ever get him down. It was disgusting! No one in their right mind was happy all the time! Though that wasn't the most annoying thing about all this. No, perhaps the most annoying part was that he knew that Spain was his father. Maybe not by blood, but the Spaniard had raised him and cared for him.
Romano heaved a sigh as he felt his anger dissipating. He didn't really hate Spain. On the contrary, he loved the feeling of being accepted and cared about, regardless of his flaws. Not only was Spain his father, but perhaps his dearest friend. But then again, that was what was so frustrating. Spain would forever see him as a tiny toddler in an apron! It was humiliating to always be seen as 'little' Romano, 'blushing red as a tomato.' Just once, he wished Spain would stop coddling him like a little child and treat him with the respect of a fellow man. He cursed silently as he resigned himself to the fact that was never going to happen.
Meanwhile, Spain worked busily in the kitchen as he hummed a cheery tune.
"Tonight's paella will be the best Lovino has ever tasted! Surely then he'll calm down and we can have a wonderful visit." Spain thought to himself.
The Spaniard placed a large carrot on his cutting board and began chopping expertly. This was only one of the many ingredients he'd need for the paella. Perhaps the most crucial ingredient was rice. There were many variations of the dish, but paella without rice simply wouldn't be paella. Spain was confident his particular recipe would be superior to all others. After all, any and all vegetables he used were grown in his own garden- that in itself would enhance the flavor.
He could just imagine when the dish was ready. He'd serve Romano first and then take his own portion. Romano would shovel his food in impatiently, perhaps burn his mouth. Spain would chuckle as Romano grew red as a tomato. The younger nation would avert his gaze and take another bite. His eyes would widen and he'd be in awe of the awesome flavor. Romano would thank him for the wonderful food…
Spain sighed happily as he let the scenario replay over and over in his mind. It was so nice to have Romano in his house again. Not that the younger nation didn't visit him often, but there were times when Spain missed the constant companionship. It was mornings when it really hit him. How he missed little Romano's efforts to wake him up, the bouncing on his stomach, the yelling for him to make breakfast! He hadn't truly understood how precious those moments were until they were gone.
Spain chuckled lightly and shook his head "I'm getting too distracted, time to focus on the paella" he told himself.
He looked over his ingredients thoughtfully and snapped his fingers "I must be losing it, I almost forgot the tomatoes!" he announced.
The Spaniard made his way over to a large pantry that stood on the far wall. Peering inside, he scanned the shelves for the object of his search. Sure enough, a crate of tomatoes sat on the top shelf, admittedly out of his reach. Spain faintly wondered what he'd been thinking putting something he used as often as tomatoes several feet above his head. What's more, what had he been thinking when he'd initially had such a large pantry built? He pushed the thought away and promptly began the search for his wooden stepladder.
It didn't take him long to find the ladder and he set it up without fail. The steps screeched in complaint as he made his way up the stepladder. Spain chuckled nervously; he didn't like the straining sound of that wood. He really ought to invest in a new ladder… Up two more steps.
Screee! The wood groaned.
"Just grab the box of tomatoes and get down, Antonio. This ladder has lasted you over fifty years, it's not going to break now" he coached himself mentally.
His hands closed around the crate, grasping it firmly. He stood perfectly still a moment and then hefted the crate up into his arms…
The silence grew uncomfortable and Romano let loose a sigh "I'd better go see if that jerk needs any help cooking dinner." He told himself "Maybe if I help him, he'll forget about 'cute little Romano' and realize how responsible I am." He realized that was highly unlikely, but he really wished something like that could happen.
Without warning, a sickening crash and a cry of terror simultaneously filled his ears.
Romano blanched "Spain! Are you alright?!" he shouted, darting for the kitchen.
The eerie silence that greeted him twisted his stomach into knots. Frantically, the Italian raced inside the kitchen, eyes scanning the room. His heart pounded, his concern growing with each passing second. His eyes locked onto their target and all at once brimmed with tears "SPAIN!" he cried out as he rushed over to the older man.
The Spaniard's body lay crumpled on the floor beside a very much broken ladder. Soft, red liquid pooled onto the floor around his head. Romano took a shaky breath as he realized that a box of tomatoes nearby was the source of the emission and not Spain. However, this was of little comfort, as Spain was unconscious and quite possibly had hit his head. Kneeling beside the Spaniard, Romano attempted to rouse him.
"C-come on, Spain! Wake up, you stupid jerk!" Romano blurted, voice wavering with concern.
A soft groan filled the air.
Romano felt his heart skip a beat as he watched Spain- hoping it was merely the shock of the fall that had caused the Spaniard to fall unconscious, and that he would awaken with a bit more coaxing. Sadly, his hopes were dashed as Spain remained unconscious.
His first instinct was to pull the older nation into his lap, to check his head for injury. Surely then he could help Spain. He shook his head to clear it. No, that wasn't the right choice. Romano seemed to recall something about not moving an unconscious person- especially if there was a head injury involved. And while he couldn't confirm exactly how Spain had fallen or landed, a head injury seemed likely. Taking a deep breath, he realized he'd have to call an ambulance right away.
With this in mind, Romano stood to his feet and dashed out into the hall where Spain's telephone sat atop a decorative table. He dialed with haste, waiting impatiently as the call rang through.
Finally, he was greeted by a thickly accented male voice. "Hola, esto es 1-1-2. ¿Cuál es la emergencia?"
Romano bit back the urge to shout and spoke as clearly as possible.
"Escucha... Antonio Carriedo es inconsciente-se cayó de una escalera y creo que golpeó la cabeza! Por favor, usted tiene que hacer algo! Él no se despierta!"
"No intente mover a él. Un equipo médico será enviada inmediatamente. ¿Sabe la casa dirección?" the man replied calmly.
"…Sí" Romano said flatly and relayed the address.
"La ambulancia está en su camino" the man replied, sounding almost too cheerful. It made Romano shudder. Were all Spain's people carefree and happy regardless of the situation?
Hanging up the phone, Romano made his way back into the kitchen and over to Spain. The red puddle around his head had only grown in size and seemed to have darkened swirls drifting throughout it... Was part of that blood?
"Mannaggia Spain! Why did you have to fall off of that stupid ladder? Do you hear me, you jerk? Why! Mannaggia! Why?!" Romano felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks as he yelled at the unconscious nation "I s-swear! If I find out this is all some stupid joke I'm going to kill you, Spain! I'll kill you!" Romano screeched as the tears continued to fall. He was incredibly worried for the older nation. Sure, Spain had hit his head before- but he usually didn't fall unconscious. Furthermore, if he did fall unconscious he usually woke up with very little prompting! This had happened so very quickly, and Romano felt rather beside himself at the moment. He was torn over what to do. If Spain was bleeding from the head, he should try to stop it… but then he wasn't supposed to move Spain. Mannaggia. With a deep sigh, Romano decided the best thing to do was to wait for the ambulance to arrive and hope to God he was doing the right thing.
Author's Note:
Hello everyone, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of my newest Hetalia Fanfic. As you may have guessed this isn't a 'sick fic'. However, this story will continue with the Friendship/ Hurt/ Comfort themes of my previous Hetalia fics- as you can probably already guess by the handy categorization. Yes, I injured poor Spain before he could finish making the paella. I certainly hope no one is offended by my vague portrayal of the dish, but for what it's worth I did some research on it before throwing it into the story. Funny thing is, after writing this chapter I listened to Spain's character songs and noticed they mention paella! *laughs* An unplanned coincidence, but somehow fitting. =) And I actually looked up Spain's Emergency number to be more authentic as not to repeat a mistake made in Lean on Moi (That I may very well fix eventually. Thanks to Ms. Britain for pointing it out). I'll let you infer what will take place next chapter; though I'm sure it's quite obvious. I also included translation notes due to the fair amount of Spanish in this chapter =) Reviews make me happy and see you in Chapter 2!
***Translations***
¡Tengo la comida perfecta planeada para la cena! (Spanish)- I have the perfect meal planned for dinner!
Mannaggia! (Italian)- D*** It!
Mi hijo (Spanish) - My son
Paella (Spanish) - A Spanish rice dish that originated in the 19th century near a lagoon in Valencia on the east coast of Spain.
Hola, esto es 1-1-2. ¿Cuál es la emergencia? (Spanish)- Hello, this is 1-1-2. What is the emergency?
Escucha... Antonio Carriedo es inconsciente-se cayó de una escalera y creo que golpeó la cabeza! Por favor, usted tiene que hacer algo! Él no se despierta! (Spanish)- (You) Listen… Antonio Carriedo is unconscious- he fell off of a ladder and I think he hit his head! Please, you have to do something! He will not wake up!
No intente mover a él. Un equipo médico será enviada inmediatamente. ¿Sabe la casa dirección? (Spanish)- Do not attempt to move him. A medical team will be sent out immediately. Do you know the house address?
Sí (Spanish) - Yes
La ambulancia está en su camino (Spanish) - The ambulance is on its way