Chapter One
Spain strode through the fields, carrying a basket of tomatoes. "Romano! Wherever you are, want a tomato?" Hidden in the taller grasses, Romano watched the Spaniard search before launching himself on Spain's back.
"Yeah, I want tomatoes, bastard!"
"There you are, Roma! Here's a nice, ripe one."
"I'm not thankful, asshole!"
Spain reminded himself that he should really try and get that bad habit fixed. Roma swore too much, but he was adorable, so Spain usually let it slide. Besides, Romano was still a child; the bad streaks would surely be fixed when he was an adult, right?
Wrong.
Roma was living with his brother now, at his own house. Spain was always the one to visit him; Romano had not been to the Spaniard's fields in years. When Spain provided him with a basket of tomatoes, his answer was the same as it had been.
"N-not thankful! Not at all, asshole!"
And, of course, Spain still found his little Roma adorable, although much manlier. "So, Romano, how is your place going?"
"Just fucking fine, bastard."
The swearing! Spain chided himself for not fixing that when Romano was a child. Back then, I thought it was just a phase... But it was now clear that Romano's swearing would be staying for some time. "Romano."
"What is it, asshole?"
"You should stop swearing at Boss."
"So what if I don't, demanding bastard?"
"Then Boss will do this." Spain leaned in and gave the other country a long, slow kiss. What am I doing?
The Italian was stunned. "Wh-what? You fucking bastard..."
"Again, no swearing at Boss..." This time, Spain pulled on Roma's stray curl. "Chigi! You-!"
"What is it, Roma?"
"Don't...pull on that, bastard..."
Spain decided to pull it again. Romano's reaction was interesting. Why doesn't he slick it down or something? What does it do? The cranky Italian had never let Spain go near the curl ever since he'd pulled it when Roma was a child.
"A-asshole! Get the fuck away from me!"
The handsome, tan-skinned Spaniard decided not to listen to him. He pulled it yet again.
"Don't! Vaffanculo!"
After four consecutive pulls the Italian was pleading. "Spain, please, you piece of-chigiii! Ahhh~" Romano bit his lower lip, hard, to prevent any other noises from escaping. Face colored like "a tomato, Roma! You're so cute!", he tried to wriggle out of the other man's grip. Spain had, using one strong arm, pinned Romano's arms to his sides. "Bastard-nnnn!"
"Every time you swear, Roma. This is Boss's grown-up version of washing Roma's mouth out with soap, you know."
"Bullshi-aiiii..." Romano no longer had the strength to stand. His legs gave way and he found himself leaning against the Spaniard with a bloody lip, in a state of euphoria. "I-I was saving m-my first kiss for a p-pretty girl, you..." He left the sentence hanging, making sure to avoid another tug on the sensitive curl. Shit, what the fuck was that...
Spain walked away, satisfied that the Italian wouldn't be swearing again. He still wasn't sure why Roma had gotten sick right when he pulled that curl, but the method seemed to work. The cheery, oblivious oyabun went back to picking tomatoes.
^.^ O.O ^.^ O.O
That was so fun to write XD Oyabun Kobunnnnn
R&R? Thanks for the read!
