Originally written for a contest in a group on deviantART
Pairings: Spamano, established GerIta
Summary: March 16th is not the Italies' birthday, Spain. Romano, sit down and listen for a change. "Luuuudwiiig! I caught the streamers on fire!" "Italy! Step aside and get me a fire extinguisher!"
Warnings: Randomness, Romano's mouth, possible OOC-ness (I dunno... Romano feels a little off to me)
Word Count: 4,093
Feliz Cumpleaños, Buon Compleanno
"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why does that jerk have to be so stupid?!"
Lovino Vargas was throwing a fit. A loud, violent fit. His younger brother could hear him from downstairs in the kitchen where he was making lots and lots of pasta. Feliciano knew that when his brother was done ranting to himself and beating up his, and Feliciano's, pillows, that Romano would stomp angrily down to the kitchen, demanding food and tomatoes. Sure enough, minutes later the moody older twin came trudging loudly into the heart of the house.
"Damnit! That stupid jerk! That bastard had no right to do that!" Romano noisily opened cabinets and riled through their refrigerator, searching for his favorite red fruit.
"Ve~ Fratello? Would you like some pasta? It's fresh and I made a whole pot of tomato sauce for you."
Romano turned and glared at his twin. He stalked over and grabbed the proffered plate, sat down at the table with a huff, and poured the entirety of the, rather large, post of tomato sauce over his spaghetti.
"Ve~ Lovino, what happened with big brother Spain?" Feliciano asked, sitting at the table next to his twin.
"W-what makes you think something happened with that bastard?" Romano responded.
"Because, fratello, he is the only one that you call "stupid", "jerk", or "bastard" so lovingly."
"W-what?! Feli! Are you pazzo?! Me-that bas-I mean, Spain? Lovingly? Feh!" He crossed his arms petulantly.
The younger twin hummed, smiling, stood up, and made to leave the room, stopping at the door to tell his brother: "I'm going to go over to Ludwig's house for the day. Ve~ Try to work whatever this is out with Tonio."
"Hn. Stupid potato bastard. A-and don't call Spain pet names!"
"Yes, fratello!" came the reply from halfway out the front door.
"Ch'… what does that airhead know? He's just… full of potatoes! From hanging around with that stupid potato head!" Romano harrumphed, stealing a glance at the open front door. Sighing, he pushed away his lunch and rushed out the door to catch up with his brother.
The door slammed open with a bang!
"Ve~ Lovi! What're you doing here?" Feliciano exclaimed from his perch on Germany's lap. One of Ludwig's arms was wrapped around the younger Italian's waist and the brunet's slender hands were on his ally's broad chest.
The scene made Romano sick to his stomach, but he swallowed his fury (and his pride) and addressed his brother calmly. "Feli. Feliciano, I wanted t-to talk with you."
"Of course, fratello!" He looked down at his boyfriend. "You don't mind, do you, amore mio?"
"No, of course not, mein schatz. Go." The German smiled lightly, motioning the other to go with his sibling.
Romano was sitting in the backyard of the German household. The sun was shining, the sky was a clear blue, and the only clouds in sight were far off in the distance, fluffy and white. The whole scene made Romano more depressed. As he sighed and held his head in his hands, he heard the "tap, tap, tap" of his brother footsteps on the floorboards. A slight hand rested delicately on his shoulder.
"Lovino, what is wrong?" Feliciano asked as he sat down on the deck. When Romano didn't answer, the younger Vargas pleaded further, "Please, fratello. Please, tell me what is wrong. What happened?"
Romano shook his head. How pathetic he was, that he had to get re-relatio-- advice from his younger, idiot of a brother…
"It has to do with Spain," Northern Italy commented matter-of-factly. "It must be serious if you came in on Ludwig and me like that and didn't yell or throw anything."
"Alright damnit! Dio, you talk too much! S-Spain… that empty-headed ass… He… He k-k's'd m'…"
"What was that, Romano? Ve~ You said it very breathlessly."
"He kissed me, damnit!"
"Oh, Lovino, that's wonderful! We should make some pasta to celebr- Romano? Ve? Romano… why are you crying?"
Romano sniffled and scrubbed at his face. "'M not crying! I-I just… got something in my eyes. Hmph! Stupid German insects attacking me!"
"Romano," the younger admonished. "Don't change the subject. Ve~ And don't deny it."
"'M not crying damnit!" He paused and sniffled, is lightly-tanned skin flushed rosy.
"Ve~ Romano, I am confused. But Antonio-nii kissed you. Shouldn't you be happy?"
"Ye-NO! No, I shouldn't be because he's jerk and a bastard and I hate him!"
"Nii-chan! Don't say such things!"
"I h-hate that man! He-He…" Romano trailed, re-thinking his words and feeling quite silly, like a human schoolgirl.
"Romano…?" Feliciano prodded.
"He… The only reason he would do something like that to me, is because you already have your… gross whatever it is with that stupid muscle-head…"
Feliciano blinked. Romano had serious self-esteem issues, he realized.
Then again… well, if Italy really, really thought about it, he came to realize that his older brother always seemed to come in second compared to him. Not that the bright-eyed brunet really thought about what he did much. He just did what he liked to do (making pasta, eating, sleeping, painting), which just so happened to be what he was good at, and he never really had to think much when he did what he was good at. It was just natural for him.
Not to mention, he was the one that got all the love from the older countries, like France, Spain, and Hungary. Even Austria had been nice to him sometimes. Grandpa Rome, too, had spent a great deal more time with his younger grandson…
And Romano…
Ignored by his grandfather and forced to sit and watch as the countries in control of Italy vied for only one sibling while whoever lost got stuck with the older, stubborn, hard-to-deal-with Romano.
A look of understanding blossomed on Feliciano's face, as he came to this epiphany.
"Oh Lovino…" He murmured, enveloping his twin in a hug. He sniffled; the crying was almost contagious.
"Gerroff me," Romano grumbled, with an unenergetic shrug of his shoulder to dislodge his brother.
"Romano! You mustn't think like that!" Italy shouted, returning to the subject at hand. "I'm sure there was a reason why Spain-nii-chan did that!"
Romano winced both at Feliciano's loud voice and his adopted tendency to use Japan's terminology, adding suffixes to people's names… "Hmph! Oh sure…"
"And you can talk to him tomorrow!" He said excitedly.
"Wh… what's tomorrow, damnit? Why the hell should I see him tomorrow?"
"Romano… Did you forget our birthday?" Feliciano blinked. Romano could've screamed.
Fuck.
At their age, even being some of the younger countries in the world, it might seem like a birthday would be no big thing. Or so the German thought, as he made his way over to the Italies' home. Feliciano had insisted that the two go home, as Romano was an emotional wreck, though the stubborn, elder Vargas refused to admit it. Ludwig's… boyfriend (he still turned red every time he thought about it) had given him a nice, long, good night kiss. His brother, thankfully, had merely glared and turned away. And then they went home.
The next day was, of course, their birthday. And while the twins were hosting the celebration at their own home, it was America who was putting it all together. Germany's stomach sank at the thought of a chaotic party, but he loved his little Italy so he came anyway.
It was only noon when the German arrived at their house, so he was able to enjoy the relative peace and quiet (and got the chance to mentally prepare himself for the pandemonium to come).
"Ludwig!" A flying bundle of brown, red, green, and white latched onto Germany. Fortunately, said German was used to this.
"Ah… buon compleanno…" he said, awkwardly attempting to use the meager amount of Italian he knew.
For his troubles, it earned him a high-pitched squeal of happiness from the brunet in his arms.
"Grazie, Ludwig!" Feliciano exclaimed, as he threw his arms around Germany's neck and kissed him senseless.
"Ah! Feli! W-why don't we go inside?" He said, his face a bright red.
Inside, Romano was lounging on the couch, a basket of tomatoes on his stomach, as he gazed listlessly at the ceiling. Germany raised an eyebrow and mumbled a curt but polite "Happy Birthday" in his direction. No yelling ensued. No cursing. No throwing of sharp, pointy objects or the rotten tomatoes that Romano thought that Ludwig didn't know he kept in a special cupboard just for use against the German (and occasionally Spain).
"Ve~ Romano is still upset," Feliciano whispered as he and Germany entered the kitchen. "I had hoped he would cool off with a good night's sleep but he is just as upset as yesterday. Just… quieter." He sighed and stirred a pot of sauce and checked the temperature of the boiling water for the pasta.
Ludwig nodded silently, not sure what to say. Italy had, surprisingly, not told him the whole problem with his brother. Not that Germany cared much for Romano's problems (as they were all too frequent and best if left to Romano to fix) but if it concerned Feliciano, then it concerned Ludwig.
He cleared his throat and asked, "When are the other nations going to arrive?"
"Eh?" The brunet hummed. "I think they're going to start arriving soon."
The blond sighed at the abstract answer. He stood up and began to clean the counter, where some sauce had spilled over the top of the pot, to keep his hands busy.
Romano sighed and set aside the basket of tomatoes. He had barely eaten any. He refused to admit that he was moping, however. There was no way that he was moping over that stupid jerk.
With slumped shoulders, he made his sullen way up the stairs and flopped onto his bed. Who cares if it's my birthday, damnit? I don't. I'd rather stay the hell away from all those bastards. They don't care about me anyway! With a "hmph!" Romano buried his head underneath the pillows, trying to block out the rest of the world.
Why did it have to be like this? Stupid Spagna… Romano thought with a growl. He does the stupidest things! It's not like I even wanted him to kiss me. His face went red at the memory.
"Lovi!" The cheerful voice sang out when Romano answered the call on his phone.
"What do you want, idiota? It's 00:01 in the fucking morning. Go back to sleep!" And with that he hung up.
A moment later, he was answering the phone again. "Fucking Spagna! I said-"
"Lovino, will you come outside please?" Antonio interrupted.
"Fine!" Romano snapped his phone shut, his cheeks bright red.
He made a point of stomping as he came down the stairs. Scowling, he stepped outside the house and closed the door calmly (though he was very tempted to slam the door, he knew his brother was sleeping). Spain was standing there with his ever-present smile. He wore his uniform but it looked clean and neatly pressed.
"What the hell is this all about, bastard? You'd better have a damn good reason!"
"Well, Lovino… I just wanted to tell you something…"
The Italian glowered unattractively. "Idiota! You woke me up at fucking midnight to have a chat?! Fuck this, I'm going back to bed!" He made to leave, but Spain stopped him quickly, putting his hands on Romano's shoulders.
"Wait! I just want this to be special, Lovi… So… please stay for just a bit long…"
"Well, hurry it up alre- Ouf!" His words were silenced with a kiss.
His mind was reeling at a mile a minute yet all thoughts had disappeared. He'd kissed plenty of girls before, but no feeling that he'd every gotten from them was like this. He stood stock still for the duration of the entire (admittedly short) kiss. When Spain finally pulled away, he looked Romano in the eyes. "Please listen, Lovino. I just wanted to tell you… how much I do truly l-" He trailed off. It was unusual for him to not be able to openly express what he felt. Recomposing himself, he continued.
"I know I've tried to replace you with your brother in the past because you were stubborn and hard to deal with. And honestly, you still are. And a lot of the time you act very uncute, unlike Feliciano…What I'm trying to say is that I love y-"
The door started to open and a bleary-eyed Feliciano stood there.
"Feliciano!"
Hazel eyes widened as Romano's selective hearing picked up on something he never wanted to hear out of Antonio's mouth: "I love Feliciano."
He glared with every fiber of his being at Spain. "I hate you!" He whispered and ran back into the house, locking both the front door and his bedroom door.
"Ve~ Spain-nii-chan, what happened?" Italy asked.
"That stupid idiot!" He grumbled into his mattress. "Nerve to say something like that to me…"
Romano continued to fume in his anger at Spain and embarrassment at his own feelings for him. Sure, he was mad at his brother for it. For being cuter and nicer and better than him at everything and for everything that disgusted him about his younger twin but he was so focused on willing himself--albeit unsuccessfully--to genuinely hate Spain that he didn't have time to hate his brother.
Downstairs, a knock sounded on the door and Antonio was greeted happily with a hug from Feliciano.
"Feli!" He shouted, returning the hug and stepping inside the house. "And Germany too!" A nod in Spain's direction.
"Is Romano home?" The curly-haired man asked the little brunet country.
"Ah… yes. He is. He was on the couch earlier," Feliciano answered, looking at the now Romano-less sofa.
"Ah, Italia, when did America say he was coming over?" Germany asked.
"America is coming to visit?"
"Yes! He is going to help set up for the party!" Feliciano explained excitedly. "And then everyone else is coming too!"
"Party? For what?"
"Our birthday! Did you forget, too, Spain-nii?"
"Birthday? But I thought that was… yesterday."
"Ve~ No, it is today."
"Oh." Spain got quiet.
The door opened suddenly and the silence was broken. All at once, there were seven nations in the Italian's living room. America had arrived, his brother dragged along with him. With Canada came Prussia, and with Prussia came France. Alfred whooped a loud "HAPPY BIRTHDAY ITALY!" to said nation, and joined the brunet in the kitchen for planning. His arms were full of a plethora of things for the party's preparation. Streamers, balloons to be inflated, and various other useless party favors.
Prussia, Spain, and France were, predictably, huddled together, laughing and conversing. Germany sat awkwardly on the couch next to Canada and both were quiet. The two seated blonds looked up as someone came down the stairs.
Romano gazed at the scene before him. He had come down to get food, because he was hungry damnit! Not because he was curious about the sudden commotion downstairs. Spying the trio in the corner, he hurried quickly to the kitchen to grab something to eat. He heard Spain shout at him from the living room, but promptly ignored him, in favor of food.
"Hey, Romano! Happy birthday!" Alfred shouted, not quite as loudly as he had for the younger Vargas, but still enthusiastically.
"Hn." He grabbed some form of sustenance and shot back up the stairs before a certain someone could catch him. He made sure to lock the door and slid down it, his head resting against the wood with a thunk.
"Lovino!" He heard his name being yelled up the stairs. His phone vibrated in his pocket and when Spain's ringtone started to play. He took the phone and throwing haphazardly across the room.
"Stupid bastard has no right to call me…"
"Come on, Espagne. The boy is not answering and he is not going to leave that room for anything. He is certainly acting comme un enfant petulant," France said, placing an arm around his friend's shoulder.
"I don't understand, though, Francis. I tried to tell him my feelings and he ran away before I even finished."
"Ah, but he is merely frightened of l'amour. He will see reason. You just need to wait for the opportune moment to make him yours forever!"
"Kesesese~ I'm surprised Tonio hasn't invaded his vital regions yet. It's obvious that you both want to fuck each other like bunnies."
"Prusse, you should refrain from using such vulgar language."
"I'll use whatever fucking language I like to."
"Come on, Artie! Don't be an old codger!" America shouted to his phone.
"Luuuudwiiig! I caught the streamers on fire!" Italy came crying out of the kitchen into Germany's arms.
"Italy! Step aside and get me a fire extinguisher!"
Amongst the chaos, only two individuals were not yelling or in hysterics. Antonio came to sit in the German's vacated seat by Canada on the couch. The Spaniard stared alternatively at his phone and at the stairs, not taking notice of the other's presence whatsoever. Matthew stood up to answer the door as a knock sounded and let in Austria and Hungary, Poland and Lithuania, and the trio of Kiku, Herakles, and Sadiq. Each entered the fray of the living room and each was greeted with an exuberant hug from Feliciano.
Romano sighed in his bedroom, listening to the merriment downstairs. He could smell the pasta that his brother was making and the abode seemed to get louder and louder as each nation drove up to the house.
Depressed, he collapsed onto his bed, and once again, attempting to block out the rest of he world, this time more literally. Morose thoughts passed through his mind. How he was unneeded, unwanted, useless. It was his birthday and no one even seemed to take notice of the fact that he was missing. Normally, at least Feliciano would have come running to him by now, begging his brother to come out of the room.
The commotion got louder. He picked up on some of the conversation and guessed that they were opening presents. Not that I care, he thought, rolling over onto his back.
France had presented his gift, a three-tiered birthday cake, beautifully decorated in red, green, and white. The whole presentation was stunning.
America was next. He showed off his newest Hollywood blockbuster, which he had supposedly made just for the Italies' birthday present, a story of two Italian twins living in New York.
"Okay, time for Mattie's present!" America shouted. The nations were gathered around in the backyard--as the rooms of the house itself were too small to contain all the nations comfortably--with Feliciano in the very middle.
The Vargas looked confused for a moment and then recognized the meek blond standing right in front of him with a small smile.
"Here you are," he said, handing a neatly wrapped parcel to the brunet. "It's from Gilbert and me, so you know."
"Matt!"
"Gil, you know you forgot about their birthday until I reminded but it was too late to get a present."
"Kesesese~ I'm too awesome for stuff like that."
"Well, anyway," he turned to Italy again, who was gingerly undoing the gift's bow. "I had the foresight to pick up something of interest as Gilbert's present."
"The history of pasta! Grazie Prussia-nii and… Canada-nii!" Matthew laughed and pointed out another box. "There's more."
Italy blinked at the box, the fragrance of maple wafting deliciously in the air. "I made them myself," Canada said, smiling.
"Grazie!"
Next, Austria and Hungary performed their gifts: his own composition for violin, accompanied with a solo dance by Hungary, who had donned her traditional dress. Feliciano was delighted, clapping his hands with the music and laughing as the woman danced around him. The music drifted up, through the house, faintly reaching the bedrooms. Romano could hear the frivolity and glared up at the ceiling from his position on the bed.
Outside, the festivities were loud and distracting. No one noticed Spain slip back into the house.
He made his way up the stairs to the bedroom. He knocked twice on the door.
"Romano?"
No response.
"Please, Romano. I know you're there."
"Go the fuck away, bastard."
"No, Lovi. I don't know what I said that made you so upset."
"Oh sure. You know exactly what the fuck it was that you said." Romano's voice filtered through the door, but Spain could hear the choked tears in his throat.
"Honestly, Lovi, I don't. I never even finished what I was going to say," he replied, anxiously trying to convey his point to Romano before the younger nation began to cry. How he hated making his beloved Lovi cry.
A pause. "…Y-you… Yes, you did."
Spain could hear Romano's glare in his voice. "No, Romano, I didn't. Por favor, Lovi. Open the door?"
"No!"
"Lovino, please!" Desperation was creeping into his voice. Perhaps it was hearing this that made the Italian break down and crack open the door, one glaring hazel eye peeking out.
"You said everything you needed to say the other night. What more do you want damnit?"
"Please listen, Romano. I am un idiota. I thought your birthday was yesterday," Spain smiled sheepishly.
"Oh yeah? And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?" Romano asked, opening the door a little wider.
Spain moved to enter the room and Romano backed off as he came closer. They ended up as such: Romano sitting on the bed, glaring up at the Spaniard standing before him.
"Lovino, I said I had wanted to make what I am about to say special. I said this because I thought it was your birthday. I say it again because it is your birthday now. So, I am hoping that it will still be special when I say it."
The Italian squirmed a little and opened his mouth to yell at Spain to just say what he was going to say already but he beat him to it.
"Please don't interrupt, Romano."
"Hmph…"
"Romano, what I said before was true. But despite the fact that you are more stubborn than your brother and act much less cute than he does, I want you to know that I would never have you any other way."
Romano glared harder, turning red.
"And now, mi tomate," he continued, kneeling down to eye-level with the Italian. "I want you to know that I truly, passionately, and whole-heartedly love you, Lovino Vargas."
Romano stared. He sucked in a breath through his nose; he could hardly breathe. He shook his head in disbelief and his hazel eyes held something akin to fear in them. When he caught hold of his voice, he said, "N-no… No! You're… You said that you love Feliciano! You said it! No. You're just mocking me! Get the fuck away from me!" Tears leaked from his eyes as he continued to ramble in incredulity. Spain leaned forward to wrap his arms around him in a hug and was met with strained resistance. He pulled away to look at Romano's face. He cupped his cheeks and whispered to the stubbornly disbelieving Italian. Over and over, he murmured "Te amo" and other sweet nothings.
When he had quieted, he glared at Spain through wet eyes and sniffles. "Y-you… b-bastard…"
"Sssh, Lovi. Ssshh…"
"No, you jerk…" A sniffle. "Why did you say that you loved Feliciano?"
"I never did, querido."
"Like hell you didn't. I was standing right the fuck in front of you!"
"Romano," Spain laughed. "I was trying to tell you how much I love you but Feliciano opened the door and I said his name in surprise."
At each emphasis, the Italian turned redder and redder. "W-well… I…"
"It's okay, Lovi."
"Well, I should probably answer you, damnit. Shouldn't I?" The other just shrugged. "I... Ch-chigi! …I-I love you, you stupid, dense, air-headed asshole, damnit!"
It was not the sweetest love confession in the world, but it was music to Antonio's ears. He laughed, pulling Romano up off the bed, and dipping him into a very passionate, theatrical kiss.
Suddenly, raucous clapping and cheering interrupted from outside the door. The door had been left ajar and outside stood Feliciano, Prussia, France, and America--who were making the loudest noise--along with Germany, Canada, and a few others who were smiling at the scene.
"Feliz cumpleaños, Lovi!" Spain said, directing the Italian's attention back to him. Romano blushed.
"Grazie, idiota."
"Let's have pasta and France-nii-chan's cake to celebrate!"
Translations:
pazzo - crazy, mad, insane (Italian)
Mein schatz - my precious (German)
comme un enfant petulant - like a petulant child (French)
querido - darling (Spanish)
Ve - a nonsense sound that Feliciano makes
Chigi - a nonsense sound that Romano makes (usually when frustrated, angry, or someone is pulling his ahoge xD)
nii-chan or -nii - Japanese suffix for "big brother", sometimes in endearment to someone who is not literally your older brother