Title: Popsicles for Lovi
Summary: It's siesta time, and Antonio hears special music... Spamano fluff. Which means SLASH, so... don't like don't read. Human names used.
Warnings: Slash, sticky popsicles. And a cute Lovi. And swearing.
Rating: K+/T
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, I don't own the characters, I don't even own a freaking popsicle. Is it too much to ask for some nice weather?
Notes: D'aww... Lovi is so cute... I hope I kept them in character enough... Credit for the insult "assface" goes to webcomix, who wrote the awesomeness called World Wide Story.
Antonio smiled and watched the sleeping face of his cute little Lovi, the scowl on the tomato's face adorable and permanent as ever. The hot summer day, smelling of crushed grass and sweat, had left them beneath a tree in the neighborhood park at siesta time, and Lovino had wasted no time in falling asleep. Ordinarily, Antonio would follow him quickly, but his eyes had caught upon the cute eyebrows drawn down in a frown, the pink lips pouting in dreamy quiet, and his inner — because, really, he would wake him up otherwise — self had squealed at the absolute adorable-ness.
Watching the lone car in the parking lot pull out, Antonio listened to the birds chirping. Their notes turned oddly musical, and his face brightened in recognition. Quickly, he stood up and raced to the edge of the grass, peering down the street to see if it was... It was. That song, that truck, yes, it was. Looking back at his Lovi, his faint smile widened into a full-blown, face-hurting grin that stretched his lips and puffed his cheeks. He ran down the street after the truck, waving without noise — Lovi was still sleeping, after all.
Lovino woke slowly, awareness coming back first before he sat up, stretched, and rubbed his eyes, opening them... and finding that Antonio was gone. The bastard, probably wandered off in his sleep or something. What if he fell over or into a ditch and got hurt? N-not that Lovino cared, of course, he just didn't want to deal with Antonio's weird friends or get the tomato-bastard's ass to the hospital. Besides, he didn't want to get up to go look for him.
He fell into a light doze in the five minutes it took for Antonio to get back, leaning back against the tree.
Antonio grinned even wider, hurrying back to his Lovi with both hands wrapped tightly around the two pieces of crinkly plastic. He couldn't wait to see how his tomatito would react. He hoped it didn't involve head-butting him in the stomach. That really hurt.
He approached the tree with his prize, smiling happily at his Lovi, who'd shifted position in his absence. Quietly, he settled down beside him, wrapping his arm around him.
"Hey, Lovi, I brought you something," Antonio said, gently shaking his shoulder.
Lovi mumbled and shifted, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "Bastard, I'm awake already." Smiling, Antonio handed him the cold treat. Lovino scowled at it. "What's this?"
"It's a popsicle! I didn't know what flavor you wanted, so I got you strawberry. Don't tell me you've never had a popsicle before!"
The Italian scowled. Again. "Of course I've had a popsicle, assface." He shoved the flavored pink ice back at Antonio. "Unwrap it already," he growled.
Antonio smiled and pulled apart the plastic, handing it back to Lovi before unwrapping his own popsicle — orange — and sticking it in his mouth. His tomatito licked it, frowned, and licked it again.
"Bastard. I hate strawberry," he said, settling back against the tree and eating it all anyway. Antonio just grinned and licked melted syrup from his fingers. Lovino blushed. "What, dammit?"
"You look so cute, just like a toma—"
"Don't. Finish. That. Sentence. Chigi!"
Inner Antonio squealed at the cuteness. And poor outer Antonio got headbutted in the stomach.