Romano had been greatly underestimated. Of course, he assumed that came naturally when you've been eternally living in the shadow of something younger, yet bigger than you. Feliciano had always received the mass praise when he finally did something right like cook or clean. Even though the idiot couldn't do something as simple as tie his damn shoe laces. Or even walk in a damn straight line. How that fool seemed to have enough balance to maneuver around the kitchen yet fall when he stands on a stool to reach something from the top shelf –but as Romano noticed, whatever was on the top shelf ended up being taken down by Ludwig anyway- was forever going to be a mystery.
But Romano was, in fact, a magnificent cook. He was incredibly intelligent. After all, he spent a lot of time with the renowned artist and scientist Galileo. Fuck, he was the one who told Feliciano about the sciences. But of course, once it started up until modern times it's just him who gets all the credit. Damn idiot. He along with everyone else would still be hanging each other and mingling in their own filth if it wasn't for him. But did he get any goddamn credit? Fuck no. He supposed he should have just grown used to it by now. The only official that really ever took him seriously of his own government had been busy in recent days, something to do with a flurry of mistresses.
"I see you, Roma." Stupid. It was all so stupid. As strong, tanned arms wrapped themselves around Romano's hips he could feel all the tension leave his body. As lips met his neck he could feel his scowl slipping away.
"You're the best lover I've ever had, Romano." And he thought about it for a split second. Even if everyone thought Feliciano was better than him in every way.
Romano was still the greatest damn lover Spain's ever had. And that was all that really mattered.
Surprisingly short but hey, I'm going through old documents.