Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's note:
This has been sitting on my computer since I wrote "Italy Just Had WHAT?", which was like a week ago. All I had to do was proofread, which I'm thinking that I did that that day, but there were some mistakes this time, but I'm lazy. And, my best friend has been calling me like nonstop-I cannot concentrate on reading, let alone proofreading, while talking on the phone-I love talking on the phone with him, but I wish I could multitask! All well, I didmultitask by spamming up his Facebook wall to piss off his girlfriend...(Man, I hate that girl.) Great best friend, right? We've even thought about going to each other's homecomings (I'm going to a different high school than him.) next year to piss her off too, but I can't wear a hat like he can. Why is it unacceptable to wear a hat with a dress?
Oh my, I'm ranting too much. Go on and read.
EDIT: Thank you to the person who was too lazy to log in. I have now fixed the translation error. I only know English and abuse Google Translate constantly when I write Hetalia fanfiction. Thanks again. =)
Translations (In order of appearance):
(Italian)
stupido Spagna: Stupid Spain
(Spanish)
querido: honey
(Italian)
cazzo voi: fuck you
(Spanish)
si sabes lo que quiero decir: if you know what I mean
(Italian)
sesso: sex
(Spanish)
ahora: now
(Italian)
fratello: brother
va bene: okay
"Ugh, stupid potato bastard thinks he can get away with having sex with my brother. I hate him so much!" Romano mumbled, walking back and forth in the living room.
"Mm hmm," Spain replied as he lounged back on the sofa; he had the newspaper in his hands, reading over the day's headlines. He didn't even bother to listen to the oldest Italy brother's rant.
Romano, to help his anger, grabbed a nearby lamp and smashed it against the nearest wall, "That's practically rape! Italy has relatively no clue what sex is and that potato bastard goes and—ugh—does things tp him!"
The younger nation started towards the liquor cabinet, only to find that it was locked. He turned to his boyfriend—he cringed at the thought of it, but they truly did love each, well, in between the smaller nation's hissy fits—and glared, "StupidoSpagna! Where the hell is the key to the liquor cabinet?"
The Spaniard shrugged and continued to read his paper.
"Where's the fucking key, tomato bastard? I want some damn alcohol in my system."
"Do you really think that that's a—"
Spain was only cut off from his sentence.
"Fucking give me the fucking key so that I can fucking get so damn drunk so that I can fucking forget about my stupid fucking brother being fucking raped by some fucking potato bastard!"
"You don't have to use that word in between every few words."
"Where's the fucking key, stupid Spain?"
"You don't need any liquor, querido."
"Fine then," Romano replied.
Spain crunched himself into a fetal position, expecting to be hit with some object, whether it had been glass or porcelain or something else that could have cut him, but nothing was hit against him. He looked up to see the Italian nation starting towards the door.
"R-Romano, where—where are you going?" Spain stuttered out.
"I'm going to kill the potato bastard; I'll be back shortly."
"You are notdriving anywhere."
Romano swiftly turned around on his heels, "And why is that?"
"You're a horrible driver."
"Cazzo voi."
"Wait," Spain grabbed the other's wrist, "I had something else in mind."
The Spanish man winked at the other, "Si sabes lo que quiero decir."
The smaller nation's face went tomato red, "But—but I was going to go kill the potato bastard. Sessocan wait."
"No, let's do it ahora."
And, the Spaniard kissed his lover tenderly on the lips. The Italian couldn't help but to give into the other's demands. Without any more words, Spain scooped Romano into his arms and carried him up to their bedroom.
"Ultimate revenge," Romano smiled as he dialed his brother's number. He waited for the cheerful Italian to pick up.
"Fratello! Guess what!"
"Wait, I have to tell you something first."
"Va bene."
"I just had sex!"
"Ooh! Now me! Doitsu and I had sex again!"
"Fucking potato bastard! Now I'm definitely going to go kill him!"
"Don't kill Doitsu!"
But Romano didn't hear it; he had already hung up the phone.
Author's note:
I think that I may do another sequel where Romano actually goes to try to kill Germany.