Short piece written for 2014 Romerica Secret Santa Exchange on tumblr!

For lonelypaperclip! Who wanted piggy back rides! The idea was just so cute, I hope I did it some justice with this! Title from one of those weird e. e. cummings poems, woop.

"Don't! Don't touch it!"

America leapt to his feet—well, he leapt up from the sofa onto one foot and windmilled his arms in an attempt to keep balance. He ended up hopping away from Romano as he listed to the side, still flailing.

Romano held up his hands, placating. "I just have to look at it, okay?"

America looked at him suspiciously. He was standing on one wobbly leg. "No touching?"

"No touching," he promised.

America managed to look entirely skeptical despite the fact that he was about to fall over. Eventually, though, he hopped back to the sofa and sat, allowing Romano to look at his ankle.

Romano hissed out a breath as he knelt down to look at America's extended leg. The foot was only twisted slightly but the joint was swollen and bright purple bruising had already appeared.

"How did you manage to do this while playing a video game?" he demanded.

"I had just beaten the colossus in the desert and I was really excited and I kicked the coffee table kinda hard?"

Romano eyed the remains of the table. "Well at least you took less damage than the table."

"Or the colossus! I kicked its colossal ass!"

"...Right. But you shouldn't stand on that foot. And you should probably see a doctor or something, you might have broken something."

America blinked at him. "Can I get a doctor to come here?"

"Seriously?"

"Well it's not like I can walk anywhere," he pointed out.

Romano huffed. "True. Okay, I'll give you a ride."

"A ride in a car? To the doctor's office? Like that's nice of ya and all but I still need to get out to the car. I can probably hobble my way out somehow, I guess."

"No I mean this. Here." He turned around in his crouch, offering his back to the other nation. He put his arms behind his back and waggled his fingers. "Get on."

America made a choked noise, so Romano looked back to find that his face had turned red and he actually looked more distressed than before.

"You can't carry me!" America sputtered.

Romano raised an eyebrow, turning back around to give him a full-on look. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it too embarrassing for you? Because you've already hurt yourself during a sedentary hobby, you really have no reason to be shy now. And it's not often I offer piggy back rides, you know. Bastard."

America fidgeted. "No I mean I—I appreciate the offer but—I don't think you can? Carry me? Um."

Romano rocked back on his heels, considering. That was right, America had some issues about his weight, didn't he? It seemed to him it was mostly in the blonde idiot's head because he looked pretty in shape at the moment. With all the running around and fad exercising and (on one memorable occasion) climbing a giant redwood with his bare hands, America's weight may fluctuate but he wasn't overweight.

But Romano wasn't a stranger to self-doubt or image issues himself.

Different tactic.

Romano put on one of his best glares and leaned in. "Are you implying that I'm weak? I can carry you just fine, idiota, don't you fucking dare doubt me."

"I'm not doubting you—"

"Then let's go already, Dio!" He turned around again.

After a few moments, he felt tentative hands on his shoulder and heard America shuffling forward to put his legs carefully through the loops of Romano's arms. One he had a secure grip, Romano stood with only a minimal pause to adjust to the load. America was a warm but tense line against him. As Romano started walking, America gradually relaxed—draping along his back and letting his arms slide forward and around Romano's neck—realizing he wasn't going to be dropped. He placed his head on Romano's shoulder and grinned.

"You are pretty strong, huh?"

"Yeah," Romano agreed. "But you're not really heavy so this isn't really a good showing of my full strength."

"Uh-huh." America was practically beaming now. "You'll have to show me sometime."

"Oh I will," he replied with a smirk.

That got a laugh. "And maybe I'll show you what I can do. I used to pick up buffalo as a kids, you know. Throw them around and stuff."

"You're kidding."

"Nope!"

Romano looked down surreptitiously to eye America's forearms, revealed where the sleeves had ridden up. They were extremely attractive forearms. "Huh. I'd like to see that."

"Not a lot of buffalo left though," America mused. "I could pick you up instead. Bet I could do it with one hand."

"Tell you what, next time you can give me a piggy back ride."

"And pick you up with one hand!"

"And that," he agreed.

"And maybe we shouldn't be wearing shirts," America continued. "For all this lifting."

Romano did falter in his steps a bit hearing that.

America continued, "You know, in case we overheat. From all the lifting."

"I will drop you on your ass, don't think I won't."

"No you won't!" America laughed.

No, he wouldn't. Not ever.