Hey, guys! This is Dreamnorn again with a little oneshot. It's sort of something to keep people occupied while I write the next chapter of "Two Halves of a Whole", but it's also centered around a pairing I wanted to experiment with.

People like to play around when it comes to pairing up Belarus. Some pair her up with Russia, some with Lithuania. Hell, I know a good writer who paired her up with SPAIN and made it believable! So I'm going to fiddle around with this and pair her up with, of all people, Romano. As much as I love Spamano, I couldn't resist giving this a try. I mean, why on earth not? It could be an interesting CRACK!pairing.

Anyway, enjoy!

Sun-Grown Tomatoes

Belarus brushed her foot on the ground sadly, sitting down hesitantly on a bench in the park. Her cheeks and eyes were stained with tears—evidence of another rejection from her brother. Natalia was a strong country and a tenacious woman, but her emotions and advances constantly being thwarted by Russia's resistance was beginning to wear her down.

She loved him. She loved him to the point that she would stop at nothing to force him into loving her back. But force seemed to not be working. This bothered her. Force brings people to submission, so why won't her brother surrender to her affections? It didn't make any sense.

In the hopes that it would calm her down, she took a flight to the sun-filled land of Italy. As soon as she stepped out into the warmth of this Mediterranean land, she felt herself stop crying, although it wasn't quite enough to cheer her up.

"What's wrong?"

The familiar voice caused her to turn her cold eyes to a certain man who sat down on the opposite side of the bench. He had light brown eyes and dark brown hair, with one stray curl that came to the side. With his typical scowl, he corrected, "I mean, why the fuck are you upset? And better yet, why the fuck are you here?"

"Good to see you too, Romano," Natalia snarled, turning her head away. Damn it. She didn't want anyone to know she was crying like this—especially not someone she knew.

"The hell it is," he huffed, crossing his arms. "At least answer one of my questions, psycho bitch."

Belarus stiffened. She despised it when he called her that. "I'm here to cheer myself up, but your presence is only making the pain worse."

Romano looked at the ground in irritation, face red with anger. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out something, holding it out to Natalia.

"Here. Take this."

"What is it?" she deadpanned.

"A tomato, damn it. Trust me. They make everything better."

"Of course. The solution to curing one's ailments is eating a bright red confused plant that doesn't know whether it's a vegetable or a fruit. How could I have not guessed?"

"I'm trying to make you feel better, you bitch. Just eat the fucking tomato and it'll save us both an argument."

Belarus hesitantly took it. She didn't believe a word Romano said about it making one feel better, but she was rather hungry, at any rate. Biting the fruit, Natalia instantly felt some of its juices sliding down her chin. The flavor was cool and subtle, as if it was picked in the sun right at the time of its prime. It was… tasty? She hadn't tasted anything that was quite so good in a long time. What surprised Belarus was that eating it actually did calm her down. She wasn't jumping for joy or anything, but she felt better.

"It's very good," she said honestly.

"Picked it myself just this morning. Italians grow the best fucking tomatoes on the whole damn planet."

"Oh?" Natalia murmured. With her coldness being absorbed by the sunny afternoon and the warmth of the tomato, she found herself genuinely curious. "I think that Spain grows good tomatoes too."

"Bastard," Romano spat. "He's too fucking lazy to pick them when they're just right. He always has to have his freaking siesta in the afternoon. Frigging Spaniard. If you don't pick them between noon and one, they'll become overripe and so fucking disgusting that even rats wouldn't bother with them."

In spite of herself, Natalia couldn't help but be amused at his statement. "I didn't know that."

"You didn't grow up with the bastard."

Belarus finished her tomato with a satisfied swallow. She could tell that her face was probably sticky and red from the juice, but she possessed no napkin. Before she could thank Romano, there was a feeling of soft cloth on her chin.

She turned to look at him. His face was bright red and angry looking, and on eye-contact he looked down, pulling his hand away and sitting up straight. "Just cleaning that up for you."

The faintest of smiles appeared on her face. "Thank you, Romano. For everything."

"Bullshit. It was nothing."

Natalia stood up to go and curtsied politely to the Italian. Romano swore something under his breath. As she turned to go, she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. "Wait!"

She turned around, a little surprised at his behavior. "Yes?"

He noticeably avoided looking her in the eye. "I… I fucking hate people who pry. I really do. But… I'm so damn curious I just can't help it. Can I ask you something?"

He was nice to me. I see no harm of it. "Of course."

"What got you so upset in the first place?"

Belarus's good mood instantly vanished. "What do you care?"

"I don't, goddamn it! I'm just curious!"

"If you must know," she hissed, "I simply don't understand what I'm doing wrong. Every move I make for Ivan ends up exploding in my face. I just don't get it."

"Oh," Romano breathed. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't think Russia and I are anything alike in the fucking least, but I feel I can sort of sympathize with him on that. Spain won't leave me alone, and he's always flirting with me, trying to make a move or some shit like that. Maybe all he needs is personal space."

"I give him plenty of personal space, but my question for marriage is always given the same answer." Without warning, small tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I feel as though he hates me."

"Like fuck he does," Romano said, dismissing the idea. "He's your brother, for Christ's sake. The likelihood that he DOES hate you is so goddamn small that you can't see it with a fucking microscope."

"He's scared of me!"

"And whose fault is that?"

Natalia gave a tiny gasp. As his words processed in her mind, she came upon a realization. It really was her fault that Russia feared her. But did he hate her? She didn't believe so. He was always so nice whenever she came to visit—it was just when the prospect of marriage showed up that he grew scared.

"Then what do I do?" Belarus asked.

Romano shrugged. "Take it a hell of a lot slower. I'm not going to lie—I think it's fucking weird that you want to marry your brother. But if that's really what you want, then try and make it so that he's not pressured into a relationship. Ask him to hang out with you as a brother first, and then let it become progressively more intimate or something. Your personality is frigging strong, and I think that you can accomplish anything you fucking set your mind to, Belarus."

Belarus. He called her by her country title instead of his typical 'psycho bitch.' Something about that warmed her heart a little. Maybe someone does care after all. She placed a finger under his chin, turning his head and forcing him to make eye-contact with her. "Thank you for everything. But Romano…"

"Wh-what?"

"Call me Natalia, okay?"

"Whatever."

With a small smile, Natalia turned away and began to head towards the airport. She was ready to go home. Waving, she called, "Goodbye, Romano! I hope to see you again soon."

"Sh-shut the fuck up!"

She really meant it, too.

This story is comprised of so much crack and fail I don't know what to say about it. Why is it everything I try to make sound believable in stories ends up being narm?

Comments? Feedback? Corrections? Feel free to write me a review or PM and tell me how much I suck! Thanks for reading!