Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a little one-shot thing in spirit of the Christmas Holiday. There's a brief mention of Supernatural in there (I don't know much about it so I made up some stuff), which I don't own. Disclaimer, haha. Again, it's in Colorado, the mountains. I'm sorry, I live there, the mountains are gorgeous, and I love the state.
If you like this, and you haven't already, feel free to check out my currently on-going story called Winters Gifts (not really Christmas related at all). Which, for those of you who have been keeping up, I would like to apologize for. I've been trying to type out this AND that at the same time so it's out a lot later than I wanted it to be, but I figured hey it's gonna be Christmas so I can just release them both on the same day, right?
Anyway, no one wants to hear me talk, so on with the story.
Disclaimer, I don't own Hetalia.
It's nice and bright outside, curtains of snow piling on the ground like blankets. Romano's curled into the couch with a cup of coffee in his hands, a blanket around his shoulders, feet tucked underneath him as he stares at the tv. They're in the mountains of Colorado in a hotel for the week, him and America. Romano glances to the side, breaking his eyes away from the television, trying to ignore the feeling that he should be watching what was going to happen on one of his new favorite tv shows, Supernatural.
Texas is on the night stand next to him and Alfred's in the shower, the door open, steam flowing out of the room in tendrils, evaporating as it mixes with the neutral temperature of the room. The water shuts off and Romano stares at the door as America struts in with a towel around his neck, the rest of him bare and dripping with perspiration. Romano swallows dryly and takes a long drink from his coffee, eyes trailing down the idiot's body.
America eyes him and grins, flexing under Romano's gaze to tease him. Romano snorts and tears his gaze away, falling back on the screen as Dean is shoved into the trunk of Sam's car. He's hardly paying attention, mind wondering to what he – what they – could be doing to each other in bed. Or you know, in the shower. Against the window, or the wall perhaps. Or not against anything at all – America was pretty strong, and Romano knows that he could hold him up. They'd tried it before and mother of Jesus – well Romano didn't have words for it.
He's pulled from his thoughts as arms wrap around his neck from behind, America's nose nuzzling into his ear. Romano stifles a laugh and turns his head away, looking for purchase for his coffee. America reaches around easily and takes his mug, setting it down on the nearby table before nuzzling into Romano's ear again. Romano laughs aloud this time, America not willing to let the sound go unheard. "You're a bastard," he mumbles, hand pressed between his ear and America's face as he tries to push away, America not budging an inch.
"Yeah but I'm your bastard and that's all that matters," America mumbles, nuzzling into Romano's hand, his voice deep and husky. Romano swallows again and tries to ignore the warm feeling that pools in his groin. He's well aware that America is still buck ass naked and he's trying to keep the images of America hovering on top of him, pounding –
"Babe don't ignore me," America says and Romano growls, giving him a hard push. America just laughs and moves back, leaning over to search their hotel room for a pair of boxers. Romano glances back and gets a good view of America's ass and he licks his lips and has to tear his gaze away again to stop himself from staring. "I'm not ignoring you idiot, don't blow into my ear."
America smirks as he hauls his boxers up his legs, secured around his waist, looking for a pair of jeans. "That was nuzzling, which makes you laugh. Blowing into your ear and biting it gets a whole new reaction. Like the thing you do when I nuzzle and kiss the back of your neck, how your back arches and you suck in a breath, and –"
"Shut up before I pour this steaming coffee on your junk," Romano interrupts, his face red as America continues to tease him. America just grins and pulls on a pair of jeans, his favorite pair, the one's Romano picked from Wal-Mart that actually fit nicely and show off his figure. Of course Romano is still mad at him because they're from Wal-Mart, but they ended up working out for both of them in the end. So he can't really complain much.
"Alright, alright, babe. Are you going to get ready?" Romano gives him a dry look, reluctantly climbing out of his cocoon of warmth. "No," he says, even as he toes off his socks and crosses his arms, pulling his shirt off and over his head. Unlike America, he folds it and sets it on the bed, hands dropping to untie the strings of the sweats that America let him wear. Instead, a pair of strong arms wraps around his waist and untie the knot for him, the sweats, easily a few sizes too big for Romano, drop and pool around his ankles. He's not wearing any boxers, and America makes sure to run his hands down Romano's sides and up his front, dangerously close to his privates.
Romano growls, just the way America likes it. "I love it when you wear my clothes. I love it even more when I get to take them off of you." He's got that deep and husky voice again, his lips pressing into the back of Romano's neck, urging a small moan and an arch from him. Romano struggles and breaks free of America's grasp, sending him a glare. "Stop, we're not doing this again," he argues and steps out of the pool of clothes, picking them up and folding them. America leans back and stares as Romano leans down, a smile on his face.
"That's not my Christmas present?" America jokes and Romano flips him the bird. "Stop fucking around and I just might reconsider not going with you."
America pouts at him and settles on the bed, "Fine, fine. I'll sit here and be a good boy. But I get a treat in the end, right?" Romano stares at him for a long moment, enjoying the way those jeans hug Alfred's waist, show off his figure, and the way his chest is still damp from his shower, still shirtless. America eyes him and grins, "Do you like what you see babe?" Romano turns on his heal and heads into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He hears a laugh outside and America's muffled voice through the door, "Okay, I'm sorry!"
Romano decides not to answer and jumps in the shower, quickly washing his body and his hair. He stands under the never-ending stream of hot water for a while before reluctantly leaving the warmth and exiting the bathroom with a towel around his waist. America's staring at him from the bed, a pout on his face at seeing his lover covered by the standard white hotel towel. He's still shirtless and focused on the tv, Sam with a double barrel pistol in his hands as he kills a demon, or something.
"Are you so hopeless you can't even dress yourself?" he asks as he walks towards his suitcase, flipping it open and sifting through it. America doesn't answer for a moment and Romano turns to look at him. "What? Oh uh, y'know, that's what I got you for babe," he smiles at Romano all innocent like and Romano ignores it, a small blush creeping up his face.
"Shut up, you're cheesy," he remarks and pulls out a pair of his black jeans, a dark red t-shirt decorated with a flurry of snow flakes trailing down the side and wrapping around his waist, his favorite red scarf and a black beanie. He pulls out a simple black, long-sleeve shirt for America, knowing that a jacket would just cover it up anyway.
America pulls the shirt on with ease and he watches, as Romano get's dressed. "Mnh I forgot to tell you babe," he says as he walks over, arms looping around Romano's waist from behind as he stands in the mirror, making himself look presentable for the public, like he wasn't ever. "Forgot to tell me what?" Romano asks absentmindedly, pulling down his shirt just a smudge before his hands trail up and over America's arms, settling over his hands.
America leans around and Romano turns his head to him, their lips pressing together for a long moment before America breaks it, his lips dangerously close to Romano's as he mumbles, his voice barely audible, "Merry Christmas." Romano breaks out into a smile, slowly at first, barely the twitch of the corner of his mouth before it spreads across his face. He presses his lips against America's again and turns to face him, hands trailing up America's clothe clad chest to lock behind his neck.
"Buon Natale," Romano says back and America crushes his lips against Romano's, hands dropping down to cup his ass and grind against him. Romano let's out a low groan and bites down on America's lip hard enough to make him let go, a small pout on his face as he worries his now injured lip. "I just got dressed jackass, I'm not stripping down for you just because you suddenly get the urge to fuck."
America continues to pout at him and brings their hips together, no friction, just pressed up against one another in an intimate matter. "I can't help it babe, I love when you speak Italian. It's a huge turn on – you know that."
Romano chooses to ignore the statement and he leans up and presses his lips to America's, "There, better? You big baby." America just smiles at him and nuzzles his nose against Romano's, reluctantly dropping his hands from Romano's waist. "Okay, I'm done. And better."
A roll of the eyes tells America that Romano doesn't believe him, but that's okay. He doesn't mind. "So what are we going to do today bastard, you never told me?" Romano's pulling on a pair of shoes, his gloves, beanie, and his scarf and jacket. America decides to brace himself for the cold as well and pulls on his jacket, beanie, and gloves along with his shoes. "I was thinking ice-skating, maybe go skiing or snow boarding."
Romano looks contemplative, knowing that no matter what he'd pick they'd end up doing all of them anyway. It's their only day out here together – for Christmas. Their little getaway for each other. There's a little tree in the corner of the hotel room – America insisted on bringing it along, since they'd gotten gifts for each other and what not. "It's traditional!" America had told him, "There needs to be a tree!"
So here they are, the mountains of Colorado, staying in a hotel room, a small Christmas tree in the corner with a few presents littered underneath it. They're not far from an iced over lake, and the ski slopes aren't too far off either. Romano wonder's if America knows that he has no idea how to do any of those things. He's just about as clumsy as Feliciano is on his feet, and America wants him to stand on ice wearing a pair of boots with the sharp end of a knife digging into the ice to keep him balanced. Yeah, that will work out just well.
He'll go anyway, because it's something new, something he and America have yet to experience with each other. Romano's not too sure how he feels about being put on the top of a mountain with two long boards strapped to the bottom of his feet, only to be sent sailing down with trees and slopes to try and kill him. And then he wonders if America really knows anything about him at all – and it's a preposterous thought. He pushes the thoughts away and glances towards his lover, who is staring outside and bouncing excitedly in his boots.
"I hope you know that I can't ice-skate, or ski, or snowboard. Or whatever," he says and America just beams at him, bouncing happily on his toes. "Yeah, I know – we went that one time remember? You uh – you kicked me in my shin. I still think I have a bruise from that. Man do ice-skates hurt." Romano sends him a dark look and America just laughs, "I'm kidding, you'll do fine. Besides, I'll be there to catch you if you fall right? Or we could do something like from a movie I saw – or no it's those uh, those ice-skating completion things where they have partners and they dance together. Except for I won't pick you up and spin you around with my hand holding you up – unless you want me to of course. Anyway they do this thing where they skate together – and I can like have my arms around your waist to keep you steady and stuff, although they're sideways when they do it. And they twirl around and stuff – we won't do anything about that, I thought you'd chopped off my leg when you kicked me the first time."
Romano sometimes questions how he deals with America. He's always been a sort of quite guy – [cough]halfnation[cough] – and even he had limits on how much he could listen to Feliciano blabber on, about God knows what. He wasn't sure how it worked with America, or how he seemed to stand him when he went off on a tangent, or sometimes even at all, but he seemed to manage.
America brings him back from his thoughts as he Eskimo kisses' Romano's nose, pushing Texas up by the arms of his glasses. "Earth to 'Mano! America calling," he jokes. Romano snorts and pushes him away. "I should say that to you, you're the one who goes off all the time, half the time I don't even know what the fuck you're talking about when you try to explain it to me.
This just earns a laugh from America and he does a double check before they leave the room. Keys, wallet, 'Mano, keycard to the room. Check, check, check, and check. He pulls Romano out of the room and they're on their way out. "I figure we could try ice-skating first. I know you're not the best at it, but I won't let you fall. I promise."
Romano just rolls his eyes and goes along with it, because he knows that America won't let him fall, whether he's somehow dug his grave in the middle of the ice-rink, stuck spinning around in circles, or flying down a mountain with ski's stuck to his feet with no knowledge of how to stop or get off. "Yeah, yeah. You'll be my hero, huh?"
America smiles at him, pulling Romano against his side. "Yup! Just call my name and I'll be there babe," he presses a kiss to Romano's temple and leads him outside. Romano hisses as the cold hits him immediately and he suddenly remembers that he had a hot mug of coffee in the hotel room, which has now been abandoned on a table somewhere. He thinks about telling America, but the jackass will just laugh it off and tell him that he'll buy him another one or something. So Romano see's no point to it.
They're there, Romano's not sure where exactly that is but as long as America knows then it doesn't matter. Romano's sitting on a bench, two outside heaters placed on either side of it, the floor fake and plastic-like, soft and firm under his feet. He leans down and starts untying his shoes, going slowly because he knows it's going to be cold once they're off. America had to run back to his car – he'd forgotten their skates in the backseat, so Romano's waiting for him to show back up.
There are some girls standing on the ice-rink, laughing with each other. Romano notices that they're eyeing him and nudging one of the girls to go and talk to him. She's pretty – long, wavy red hair, skin tan with dark freckles littered over her face, eyes a blue-green color. She's kind of short too, but he's not paying much attention. She hobbles over in her skates, wringing her hands nervously as she approaches him. "Hi there," she says, her cheeks a rosy color now that Romano can see her better. He's not sure if it's from the cold, or because she's blushing.
"Hi," he responds casually, gesturing to the seat next to him. Just because he's with America doesn't mean he's going to be rude. The girl sits next to him, sending a look to her friends, who make hand gestures and smile at her encouragingly. "My name is Lucy," she says and turns to him, holding out her hand for him to shake.
Lovino takes it and lifts her mitten clad hand and places a kiss on her knuckles, smirking, "Lovino," he says, letting her hand go. If she wasn't blushing before, then she is now. She stops for a moment, just staring at him before she pulls herself together. Yeah, Romano's still got his charm. Why would being with America stop that?
"I – that's an interesting name. I've never heard it before. You're not from around here are you?" she asks, fighting down her blush.
"No, I'm from Italy, but –" he's stopped as a pair of skates dropped next to him, cut off as Alfred tilts his head back and leans over him, pressing their lips together in a rough kiss. Romano knows it's because America wants to show the girl that he's his, but he doesn't have to be an asshole about it. Romano gives into the kiss anyway.
Eventually he pulls away and Romano is left breathless, turning to face the girl – Lucy – whose face is full of surprise and is a dark shade of red. "I'm so sorry!" she starts off, standing up, "I didn't know you – I didn't know you had someone. Were with someone."
Romano shakes his head, offering her a small smile. "No I was actually going to say that I'm here with my boyfriend, but he's a possessive airhead and I didn't get the chance." America's arms are around Romano's neck and he's nuzzling into his ear. "Say sorry to her you jackass," Romano says, nudging America with his elbow.
America just whines and reluctantly pulls away, looking sheepish and offering his hand, "Ahaha sorry about that, I kind of got carried away." Lucy shakes his hand and nods in understanding, saying she's going to go meet up with her loser friends. Romano and America wave her off as she goes and America pulls him in for another kiss.
His arms drop, ready to wonder, but he stops when Romano elbows him again. "Not in public you jerk! Now help me put these stupid things on." Romano kicks off his shoes and America helps him tie on his skates.
"That feels alright, yeah? If they wobble on your feet then they're not tight enough, you could hurt your ankles like that." America pats his ankles and Romano shakes his head, testing to see if they're wobbly or not.
"No, they're good," he says as he stands, arms held out to help him balance, though he tilts to the side anyway. America has to grab him and he helps Romano sit back down, kicking off his own shoes and pulling on his skates. "I hope you know I'm going to die out there," he comments, watching as people, couples, families, and friend's alike skate around the large rink.
"You'll do fine," America says, standing with ease, holding out his hands for Romano to take. He reluctantly does so, gloved hands clutching desperately tight to America's as he stands, walking with America, who's going backwards. He stalls as America steps onto the ice, unsure if he's ready for this yet. "It's okay babe, I got you."
And that's enough for Romano to take another step, sealing his fate. He slides easily, his weight shifting backwards, and America has to shift and place his hand on Romano's waist to keep him upright. If not, Romano would have slid underneath America's legs and who knows what would have happened then.
America knows Romano well enough to take it slow, skating backwards at a slow pace as Romano tries to adjust to the sudden change. He's slipping sometimes, leaning too far backwards or too far forwards – but America's holding him and he's not letting him go. And that's all Romano really cares about. Eventually he gets the hang of it, balanced almost perfectly, only being led by one of America's outstretched hands. His mind wanders to a movie scene where a prince and princess walk side by side, arms outstretched, holding onto each other's hand.
"You doing okay?" America asks him and Romano just nods, letting out a yelp as he slips and slides before regaining his balance without America's help. He lets out a shaky breath and America slides closer to him.
It's America skating forward, Romano pressed into his side, one of America's arms wrapped around his waist, the other holding Romano's hand. It's chilly outside, a little wind blowing, and Romano decides that he's definitely going to make America buy him another coffee to warm up. He's still not sure how he feels about skiing and snowboarding or whatever, but he's sure he'll manage somehow.
Idly he feels like they're dancing, positioned the way they are. Lucy and her friends skate by a few times but Romano's not really paying attention to them anymore. America spins him around so now he's skating backwards, and Romano grabs a hold of his shoulders to keep up. It doesn't really matter anyway though, because America's arms slide around his waist and he's not even touching the ice anymore. Romano thinks he prefers ice-skating this way, but he doesn't have all that much time to dwell on it because America is kissing him again and he doesn't even care that they're in public.
So he just gives into the kiss, his eyes slipping shut, hands moving from America's shoulders to around his neck. He's half tempted to wrap his legs around the idiot's waist, but decides against it. He's practically got knives stuck to the bottom of his shoes and he doesn't want to risk anything.
It's a long kiss, but eventually Romano nips at America's lip and he reluctantly lets go, grinning up at Romano like he's the best thing in the world.
Romano is more than worn out and bruised up and cold. America has his arms secure underneath Romano's thighs as he holds him up piggy back style. Romano has his arms loosely draped over America's shoulders as the latter skates slowly towards the benches so he can get 'Mano out of his skates. Romano shivers and gives America a squeeze, pressing his cold nose into the side of his lover's neck.
America squawks at him and steps easily onto the rubbery bank, depositing Romano down onto one of the benches. He reluctantly lets go and leans over, untying his skates and grabbing his shoes. He pulls them off easily, and pulls his shoes back on, wiggling his toes inside of them. "Fuck they're cold," he says as he ties his skates together as America had shown him earlier. America chuckles as he pulls on his own shoes as well, grinning at Romano. "I could warm your feet up for you 'Mano, I'm pretty sure you could fit your foot into my hand."
Romano scowls at him and throws his skates, which America dodges weakly and ends up falling back into a bank of snow. Romano laughs, and yells out in surprise as America tackles him down into a pile of snow. Romano squirms, yelping as snow creeps down his jacket and shirt, pooling mostly at the base of his neck.
Eventually America relents and gets up, earning a painful hit from Romano. For being such a small man, he sure does pack a punch. Not to mention that they're nations, and stronger than the average human, but he's not going into that too much. America offers his hand and Romano gladly takes it, standing and dusting himself off. "You asshole, now there's snow down my clothes and they're wet."
America grins slyly at him and leans in, voice just a whisper against his ear, "All we have to do babe is take it off, and I'm more than capable of doing that."
Romano turns red and hits America softly, pushing him away and storming towards the car. "Get my skates, i-idiota!" he calls back and America lets out a bellowing laugh. He grabs his and Romano's skates and chases after the little Italian, hooking an arm around his shoulders once he's caught up with him. "Okay, okay, 'Mano, how about we grab something to eat, get some coffee or something, and head back to the hotel. We've been at it for quite a while and I know my little Mediterranean can't really handle the cold. So we could… warm each other up," he says and wriggles his eyebrows playfully.
Romano scoffs at America and sends him a glare, a slight blush adorning his face, "What's up with you today?" America quirks an eyebrow, looking curious and amused.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, all day you've basically been implying sex. When I was watching tv, when you got out of the shower, when I got out of the shower, at the rink, and even now. Is there something you're not telling me?" Romano explains, arms folded over his chest as he waits for America to unlock the car door. America makes a face at Romano's explanation and slides into the car, Romano doing the same.
"Have I really?"
"Yes idiot."
America looks thoughtful as they strap in and he starts the car up, blasting the heat to warm the car and Romano. "Huh, I hadn't noticed. Maybe I'm implying that that's your Christmas gift."
Romano scoffs, holding his hands in front of the car vents as he waits for the heat to kick in. "Yeah right. It was yesterday's gift, and the day before that, and the one before that."
America turns to him, amused. "Do we really have sex that much?"
A blush answers his question and Romano nuzzles into his scarf to hide and Alfred just laughs at him, pulling out of the parking space and down the path to head home. He couldn't help it if he almost constantly thought about having sex with Romano. He was a very…fine man. A very fine Italian mat at that. And sometimes Romano could do things to America that he had no idea was possible.
Romano shuddered next to him, rubbing his gloves together. "Is my little Mediterranean freezing?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.
"That's quite the understatement," Romano replied, shifting forward in his seat to point all of the vents at him. He was built for warm weather, not this cold shit that America was throwing at him. But, Romano figured it was worth it in the end when he and America got to settle down and cuddle together.
Romano remembers briefly how surprised America was when Romano had revealed that he'd been the touchy feely type. North was always like that, throwing himself all over everyone, practically begging for cuddling and shit like that. But Romano wasn't, or at least America didn't think so. He was much quieter and shy about it, though he reveled in it just as much as anyone else did, if not more. Blame his grandfather for not giving him that much attention when he was young, but he'd be damned if he'd let a chance slip by now. Especially if it happened to involve doing it with a special someone that Romano loved deeply.
Not that he'd ever admit that.
Okay maybe he would, but only for America. And even sometimes that was debatable.
He's brought back to attention by America, who's standing outside his door, giving Romano a weird look. Huh, he hadn't even realized they'd gotten home. Er – to the hotel. Whatever, the place they were staying at. He crawled out after waiting for America to move from the other side of the door, only to end up shoving the door open since the idiot wouldn't move.
America just grinned at him and lifted him up without another word, turning on his heal and walking to their hotel room. Flustered, Romano fought against him with great reluctance before just giving up. The idiot wouldn't notice it if a car hit him with the way he just evaded Romano's attempts to get free.
He's deposited on the bed, bouncing as he hits the mattress. America kneels down in front of him and slides Romano's shoes off ever so slowly, trailing his eyes up from Romano's sock-clad feet to lock eyes with him.
Romano swallows hard, leaning back onto the bed on his hands. America removes his socks next and he curls his toes at the sudden coldness. Next comes his mittens, scarf, beanie. Jacket. Shirt. Pants. And then he's left in nothing but his underwear and the look that America is giving him is dark and full of lust and Romano's completely ready to just give himself up to America.
Except the idiot drops a blanket around him and searches for something else for him to wear. Romano's baffled as he stares at the spot where America just was, feeling confused and concerned. Was – was something… wrong with him?
America smirks at him from kneeling over his suitcase, "Sex isn't your present babe. I mean, it can be but it's not. We could always go a round or two anyway," he says and pulls out some of his clothes – two sets – dropping a set near Romano so he could change. "Don't wear boxers," he says, stripping down himself.
Romano begrudgingly complies and kicks off his boxers, pulling on the outfit America gave him. The clothes fit comfortably enough and Romano folds his and puts them away, America just tossing them into his own suit case. Romano wants to tell him something about it but changes his mind as the idiot walks over out into the living room.
He gets up to follow but hears a, "Ah, ah, ah! Stay in there Romano," and plops down on the bed, arms folded over his chest with a scowl plastered on his face. He vaguely hears America say something along the lines of, "Yes it's here!" before he pops back into the room with a wrapped box in his hands.
He quirks an eyebrow at his lover and America moves over, sitting next to him. He stares down at the box before letting out a long and slow sigh, handing it over to Romano. Romano takes it, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He's not sure what it is (duh Romano, it's a present) and America nudges him to open it.
So Romano does. He might end up kicking America's ass later, but right now he doesn't really care. Reaching in the box, Romano pulls out a small calico kitten, its eyes mix matched blue and green, meowing weakly at him. It's probably the most adorable thing he's ever seen and he knows for sure that if Spain were here then he'd have an aneurism because of how cute it was. The kitten meows weakly again and lifts its head to look up at Romano and that's when he sees it.
Peeking out from the ridiculous amount of beautiful fur, Romano catches sight of the collar – her collar. But more importantly, what's attached to it. Suddenly his throat is dry and he's more aware of, well everything. He licks his lips and tears his gaze away from the ring looped around the kitten's collar, looking at America, who's smiling like he's never seen before.
He's almost scared to ask, and he can feel himself shaking as he carefully supports the kitten that's now purring and nuzzling against his hand. "America?" he croaks out weakly, his voice cracking.
America laughs softly, shifting around to kneel down on one knee in front of Romano, taking the kitten from his hands and holding it up. "Romano, Lovino Vargas, will you marry me?"
If Romano had ever imagined getting proposed to, it was not like this. Not in the snowy mountains of Colorado as he and America celebrated Christmas together. Not sitting in some hotel room in America's clothes with their dinky little tree in the corner. But if he were to think about it way later on, then he wouldn't have had it any other way.
His eyes are watering up and he reminds himself to care later, but for now he just lets his tears free and nods rapidly, hugging America around the kitten, who's pawing at him and meowing. And America's just smiling at him and it's so bright Romano's surprised he's not going to go blind. He's pulled in for a long and deep kiss, reluctantly pulling away as the kitten climbs his way up between them and paws at their faces.
"What are you going to name her?" America asks, scratching gently under her chin. Romano stares at her for a long while before letting out a content sigh and replying, "Dolce. Her name is Dolce."
America nods in approval and unsnaps Dolce's collar to slide the ring off, snapping it back on and taking Romano's hand to slide the ring onto his finger.
"Merry Christmas, Romano."
"Buon Natale, mio Tesoro."
And there's that. I'm sorry if anything is translated wrong, please feel free to correct me and I'll change what needs to be.
Please review, those always make me happy.