Title: Madre a mio Messico
Author: Darkmoonphase
Rating: T
Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort
Summary: "You can do it. You may not be able to clean but you can love and take care of people," England had said.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or characters thereof.
Author's Note: I found this while looking through some stories I'd written and decided to post it. XD Enjoy.
"You know Mexico? He was... Spain's, really. Romano, please, he needs a place to stay... I... I just can't look at him anymore. He was a mistake. I don't want to hurt him but I can't keep him."
Romano paced the living room, watching the front door. His heart was racing with anticipation, worry, hope, and fear. Every time he heard a sound outside, he'd jump and run to the window, only to be disappointed to see that Germany's car still wasn't there. He was getting frustrated. He hadn't even asked Spain, had just told England yes. What would Spain say? Would he have the conviction to stand up for his decision? A sudden knock on the door made Romano start. It took him a moment to gather his bearings again and answer the door.
His brother and his boyfriend stood there, a little boy with dark hair and bright green eyes in Germany's arms. "Fratello!" Veneziano cried happily and threw himself into his brother's arms. When he pulled back, Germany had stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "How are you?"
Romano sighed. "Alright; things are still a bit rocky..." Recently, in an angry fit, he'd decided to challenge England. Unfortunately for him, this resulted in the Brit telling him all about Spain's promiscuous behavior. And this caused Romano to dump Spain, almost permanently. But something in Spain's apology, in his shining green eyes, made him give back in. Short-lived as their break-up had been, Romano noticed the change in effort his boyfriend put into their relationship now. How he kept so hard to keep him pleased. "But it's okay. He's trying..."
Veneziano smiled brightly. "At least he's trying." Then he brightened even more and gestured at the little boy who had been so very quiet up to this point. We brought you Mexico!"
"I noticed," Romano grumbled, scowling. But little Mexico had other ideas about the Italian's expression.
The little boy stared at Romano a moment and then asked, in a small and heavily accented voice, "Mamá?"
Romano's expression immediately softened and he reached for Mexico, who let go of Germany to hold onto him. "Yeah, I guess that's right..." He lifted the child into his arms, setting him on his hip. "I will take care of you..." And, despite his best efforts not to, he smiled. Mexico gave him a small smile himself before trying to hide it behind a little fist. He looked back at his brother and Germany, who both looked rather pleased with his reaction. "Oh, stop staring at me like that!"
Veneziano giggled. "We're just happy that you two will be getting along!" He grasped Germany's hand in his own.
"Well, we told England we'd stop by to tell him how Mexico reacted. So we have to go if we're going to get back before midnight. We don't want France mad at us," Germany grumbled in his responsible way.
Romano nodded and they said their goodbyes. After they'd left, he looked at Mexico. His green eyes were trained on his face, as if knowing. Something in his expression reminded him indefinitely of Spain. With a sigh, he shifted Mexico to his front and sat down on the couch. "Papá will be home soon..."
Mexico stared at him and reached for his face, pressing a small hand into it. Romano made a noise between a grunt and a giggle. "Where padré go?" he inquired softly. His voice sound a lot like Spain's but with more innocence. It seemed that the little boy had already accepted who his new parents were.
"He had to go to...work," Romano tried, a smile on his face as he removed Mexico's hand. He wasn't entirely sure how well he was going about this but the child seemed to accept it well enough. Though he felt a deep pleasure in the fact that Mexico sounded happy as he chattered away in Spanish, he was also terrified by the idea that he would be taking care of this little boy. For so many years, he had denied his desire to have children because Spain didn't want the commitment - though he was dedicated to Romano. But now he had a child in his arms and he felt a sort of completeness, more of England's words from their earlier conversation ringing in his ears. "Thank-you for taking him, Romano... You don't know how much that means to me... He will be in great hands, I know." He still didn't know how he had been so sure...
Unexpectedly, Mexico yawned hugely and rested his head on Romano's chest. The Italian put a hand on his back and gently rubbed soothing circles. He wasn't sure but he'd watched England raise three kids, so maybe he knew enough to care for Mexico. He stood up, carefully bouncing the child in his arms as he walked to his room. It was around nine at night; he figured he must be tired. The room was dark so he had to stumble around to find the bed. He couldn't really clean - had never been good at it - and Spain just didn't normally so their room was full of little cluttered messes. When he finally made it to the bed and had sat down, he lay Mexico down and looked at his sleeping face. Gently, hesitantly, he brushed his fingers down his cheek. How could his heart already have love for this child?
"Romano?" Spain called and the Italian jumped, looking toward the door. He hadn't heard the garage door open but there was Spain, standing there with his face shadowed by the light in the hallway. Slowly, he walked in and Romano's chest tightened. "Romano...Who's that?" He didn't have to answer as the Spaniard stepped up the bed and peered down over Romano's shoulder. "I...Is that...Mexico? What is he doing here?"
His voice was beginning to rise so Romano stood up and gently pushed Spain toward the door. "Shhh. Don't wake him up..."
"Romano!" Spain whispered, hysteria creeping into his voice as he was shoved into the hall. "Dang it, answer me, Romano! Why is he here?"
The Italian closed the door most of the way and headed into the living room. "Well, England has been taking care of him. But he's causing some problems between him and France. He said he was yours, so..."
Spain scoffed angrily as he followed his boyfriend. "He was every bit involved in that as I was! How dare he try to blame me..." He gestured toward the bedroom and then crossed his arms, looking a little like he was pouting. "But that doesn't explain why he's here."
Suddenly, Romano was furious. "I told England I'd take him," he stated, facing Spain fully as the other man gawked at him. "You know, this might not have been just your mistake, but he is yours. Spain, you have a chance to face and fix this one. Don't try to back out of this. You can finally do something!"
That was obviously something Spain had not wanted to hear. "Why would you take him without asking me? What makes you believe I want to look at him any more than England did? And I'm sorry for what I did. I thought we got past this?"
"We did! I'm just saying..." Romano replied, starting to lose his confidence in the face of Spain's anger. "And I said yes because I want a child!" They both paused, the anger draining from his boyfriend's face. "I want to take care of Mexico," Romano said, voice quieter.
Spain frowned, looking puzzled. "I thought we decided we didn't want kids..."
"No, you decided that and I just went along with is because I didn't want to argue over it," Romano corrected bitterly. "But I had a chance to raise a child and I seized it. Either you accept it or I leave." Then, taking a deep breath, he went back to the bedroom. Mexico was standing in the doorway, peering out with wide eyes. All of Romano's anger fled him as he approached. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry, Messico."
"Mamá?" he asked as he was scooped up and taken back to bed, the door slammed behind him. "You sounded like..." He trailed, as if unsure who was who now.
Romano sat on the bed, back to the door, and cuddled the boy. "England and France?" Mexico nodded. "I'm sorry. But it's okay. It doesn't matter what Spain says. I will take care of you. It doesn't matter that Spain doesn't understand that I just want to be respected; I just want to be seen as his equal. I give him the utmost respect...or as much as I'm capable of. And I've given him what he wants for years. Yet he can't let me do something I want - he throws a fit about it. But it's okay..." Mexico whimpered, giving Romano a warning before he started crying. He checked the toddler's pull-up to make sure it didn't need to be changed - he'd be in trouble - before making a fuss. He wasn't sure what was wrong. "You can do it. You may not be able to clean but you can love and take care of people," England had said.
"Oh, Messico, it's okay. Mamá is just upset. Everything will be okay..." he whispered, tears streaking his own face as he rocked back and forth. He held the boy to his chest and began to softly sing in Italian,
"Se potessi saltare sulla luna,
per impressionare voi,
Lo farei.
Se potessi imparare a brillare,
come una lucciola,
per andare a guardare me,
Lo farei.
Cosa ci vorrebbe,
per farti notare
me?
Cosa ci vorrebbe,
per farti sentire
me?
So di essere normale.
Io so che non sono realmente
tutto ciò che eccitante.
So che può essere difficile
da ottenere.
Ma se si è tentato,
Mi piacerebbe provare anche.
Se si è tentato di conoscere..."
As he started to forget lyrics, Mexico quieted down and a square of light fell onto the bed. Spain walked in, closing the door behind him. He sat down next to Romano with a soft sigh. Mexico turned his head to look at him, still leaning close to Romano. Hesitantly, he reached out and rested a hand on the child's back. "I'm sorry, Romano..." he said softly, eyes on his boy. "I didn't realize what you wanted. I thought we'd be more in tune but you still...you still need to tell me. Talk to me." He shifted a little and reached for Mexico. Finally, he raised his eyes and met Romano's golden ones in a silent question. Without saying a word, the Italian passed the toddler to him. "You're right, by the way," he muttered as he held Mexico close to him and stroked his hair. "I do have a chance to fix this...mistake. And what a beautiful mistake he is. I'm sorry, Romano."
Romano leaned toward him, putting a hand on his cheek. "I love you, you jerk. That's why I'm still here." Gently, he pressed his lips to Spain's. After a few minutes of kissing out their apology, he pulled back and looked down at Mexico, running a hand through his short, dark locks. Smiling, he murmured, "He fell asleep."
"Maybe we should, too," Spain replied with a slight chuckle. He stood and let Romano wiggle under the covers. Carefully, he passed his sleeping child to Romano before pulling off his suit and draping it over the chair in the corner of the room. Then he crawled into bed, trying not to disturb Mexico, and pulled the blankets over his boyfriend and son. Smiling a little, he put an arm over them and kissed the top of Mexico's head before kissing Romano again. "I love you, too, bebé. That's why I'm still trying." With a soft sigh, Mexico snuggled into his father; his mother's arms were still around him comfortingly.
"Oh, and Spain?" Romano mumbled tiredly and his boyfriend made a small sound of acknowledgment. "You need to go get pull-ups tomorrow morning. England didn't send any with Veneziano and Germany. Or clothes..." He paused at this, brow furrowed. "Che idiota!"
Spain chuckled halfheartedly. "Of course he didn't send any of that stuff..." His laughter died and he moaned. "I'm scared. I've never bought stuff for a kid before. Will he need toys?"
Romano cursed. "This is going to be a pain." A foot abruptly slammed into his stomach and all the air left him in a whoosh. "Great," he squeaked weakly. "Mexico kicks." Spain tried hard but was unable to stop his snickers.
:3
Author's note: The entire poem and it's (supposed to be) translation:
Se potessi saltare sulla luna,
per impressionare voi,
Lo farei.
Se potessi imparare a brillare,
come una lucciola,
per andare a guardare me,
Lo farei.
Cosa ci vorrebbe,
per farti notare
me?
Cosa ci vorrebbe,
per farti sentire
me?
So di essere normale.
Io so che non sono realmente
tutto ciò che eccitante.
So che può essere difficile
da ottenere.
Ma se si è tentato,
Mi piacerebbe provare anche.
Se si è tentato di conoscere me,
Potrei essere diverso,
rispetto a come tu mi vedi
ora.
If I could jump to the moon,
to impress you,
I would.
If I could learn to shine,
like a firefly,
to get you to look at me,
I would.
What would it take,
to get you to notice
me?
What would it take,
to get you to hear
me?
I know I'm normal.
I know I'm not really
all that exciting.
I know that I can be hard
to get.
But if you tried,
I'd try too.
If you tried to get to know me,
I could be different,
compared to how you see me
now.
Hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. It's based off of an idea my friend, Feliciano Luigina Holmes, and I had. It wouldn't go away until I wrote it out. I tried hard to make everything look okay and for it to make sense. Hopefully it's not too terrible. But in case you didn't get it - for I'm afraid you might have missed this fact - back in the pirate days, England and Spain "created" Mexico and then Spain left. So England had to take care of Mexico. And this story is sort of AU because my facts were a little...erm, messed up. Technically, for Mexico to be so young, it wouldn't have been too long after their pirate days. Meaning, no cars. But I panicked at the idea of having to fix that. So you have to bear with me. XD
Anyway, please review. :D