Disclaimer:
I own nothing, not even (but I want to) the characters, mister Hidekaz Himaruya-sensei does. I own only this story.
Warning:
Warning for our dear lovely Romano colourful vocabulary. But England has his own portions of colourful vocabulary. Human's name used.
Hope you all like/love it and this two chapters are edited.
'Fuck the stupid-tomato-loving bastard, he really does have tomatoes for brains! Che cazzo! Now I'm stuck with captain Eyebrows or is it Caterpillar?—well that doesn't matter. Shigi... it could be worse, at least he's not so bad like that perverd-frog-face bastard of a France or the albino-potato bastard of a Prussia! Mio Dio, I can kill that Spain, I don't wanna know what I will do to him, Dio, he's so stupid... Either way, I'm still screwed, I'm still going to be with captain Eyebrows-Catapillars. Hey that's a good name for him, yeah, that will do for now.' Romano sighs frustrated, 'So,...okay,... now how the fuck did I end up here again?'
~~Flashback~~
Romano just sat on the rails of the ship, gazing at the endless big blue ocean. It was new for him to go with Spain on a journey, the Spaniard mostly didn't let him come in case something bad happens, which is most likely to happen. So it didn't bother him too much. Until he noted someting, "Hey tomato bastard, is it normal that I see a English pirate ship?" Romano yelled, Spain who is clueless and obvious as ever, has no idea what Romano is yelling about.
So he crossed the deck and look at what Romano was pointing at, "Ah~, it's the damn, cabrón Inglaterra." Antonio said in a sing-song tone, obviously annoyed, he had a sickening sweet smile on his face, obviously a strained smile. It was—is and always will be—creepy!
Spain shouted in a commanding tone, "Prepare the ship, amigos! We are going to kick some English ass~!" He turned to face Romano, with pleading eyes, and asked Romano who is stil sitting on the rails, "Lovi~ will you please go to the captain cabin? Wait there for me por favor, I have to fight some English bastards, " he muttered the last part, Lovino doesn't know if it was meant for him or Antonio who was just talking to himself like a creeper he always was, "who thought it would be fun to mess with me." His eyes shine with danger and in a flash it's gone. "Can you do that for me Roma~?"
The Italian looked in his eyes, with his light hazel-brown, with soft emeralds and golden specks in his irises, those eyes shone with little anger and, also dread?
the other brunet huffed, clearly bothered with the baby tone the curly brown haired said. "One it's not Roma, but Roma-no, get it right, you bastard, and stop shortening my name, bastardo. Two, no, no I don't want to." He said childishly.
"But why not?" He whined like a child, confused by the other brunet. "It's going to be dangerous here! So you have to go, per favor, it's for your own safety." The brunet pleaded again.
"Because, I don't want to!" Romano said crossing his arms irritated.
"Don't act like a child, Roma!" Antonio snapped displeased.
"Then, don't treat me like a child!" He shot back annoyed.
"Touché." He said out loud. "Listen to me for this one time! Please..." His voice trailed off, in a soft whimper. How could he not see I care for him? Was it that difficult?
Silence.
"When did I ever listened to you?"
"Um, never?" It sounded more like a question then an answer.
"See?..that is what I mean." The Italian deadpanned. "No." He stated abruptly, "Because you're always fighting, and... and, I just can't stand to see you in pain." The Italian looked away with a hurt expression in his irises even though...never mind.
"Fussosososo~ so you do care about Boss~! Boss is so happy~!" Spain was back to his usual carefree self, clearly happy with what his little Tomatito said. It was weird for his little Tomate to say something like this.
Romano who is now beet red, "Chigiiii~ i don't c-c-careaboutyou, pomodoro bastardo!" He said talking fast and head butted Spain in his stomach.
"Aww! Roma~ that really, really hurts!" Antonio said, cringed in pain.
"Please Tony, let me stay here on the deck, I'm not going to fight, I promise."
Romano who knew that Spain never can stand him using his cuteness and his big puppy-eyes, and what Spain said 'cute' pout, also Romano used his secret weapon the shortening of Spain's human name. Combining those 4 things, Spain cannot say no to Romano. Not. Ever. Even how much he wants to resist those things, he always give Romano what he wants.
"Roma~ you're so cute~!" Okay. But you have to promise me that you're not going too fight. Do we have a deal?"
"Deal."
Spain gives him his hand and Romano gladly shakes it.
"Good luck ! Don't let England kick your ass to much!"
"He won't Roma~, he won't." He whispered in a cold tone.
Romano runs and climbed up in the crow's nest, just in time to see that the ship from England is close. "Spain, he's coming!"
"Ah~ gracias, I can see him already. Man, prepare to fight!"
Meanwhile on the other ship.
"Prepare to fight man, we're going to kick some Spanish bloody arse!" A certain British accent barked, that person is well known under the nations as England, and under the humans as, the most dreadful pirate on the 7 seas, pirate captain Arthur Kirkland and he is not for noting the pirate King. He's the ruler of the sea, and ruler he will stay.
His man is ready, so is himself, with two swords loosely in his hand; he's ready to fight.
It's show time.
Meanwhile on Spain's ship
"They're coming, prepare!" Spain is ready, so is his man, with his grand grand battle axe in his hand, victory wil be (finally) his. He will have his revenge for his precious Armanda.
It's show time.
England's ship docked right on the left of Spain's ship.
England who is now wearing a evil smirk, and his electrifying green eyes shone dangerously at Spain, "So, Carriedo, are you prepared to let you're bloody arse kicked, wanker?"
Spain who now is also wearing a smirk, that face doesn't belong to him, to his cheerfull self. Spain narrowd his forest-jade green eyes at England, they shone with, anger, fury, but the most, it shone with pure hatred, "Fussososo~, I don't think that will happen today, Kirkland," he spat Arthur's name with pure bitterness, it always leaves a sour taste on his tongue, "Because, the victory will be mine."
"Oh, really? When did you ever kicked my arse, you twat?" He asked incredulously.
"Let us make a bet, shall we?" The Spaniard said out of the blue, his usual carefreeness coming back again but his eyes still shone with hostility.
'Huh, he just suddenly changed the subject.' Arthur thought. But he is curious at what the wanker has on his sleeve. "A bet? What kind of bet?"
"It's a simple one~. If I win, than you have to do whatever I please. But if you win," the conquistador voice lingered in a sort of a mocking tone.
"What if I win? Spill it already, you wanker!" England snapped impatiently, count on the stupid Spaniard to be a drama queen. He would never change.
"If you win... then you can have Romano/S. Italy, for a entire month."
England raised one of his bushy eyebrow, and then, he smirked maliciously, "Oh, really? Are you sure?" Spain nodded, "Alright then, you made yourself a deal." He said, compleiying by the other st
They shakes their hand, and when they prepare theirselves to fight a bloody fight, a loud, yet familiar voice shrieked,
"Chigiiiii~?!" They both looked up to see, a very, pissed and furious Romano.
In the crow's nest
"They are going to fight soon." Romano mused, "I wonder who will win. Probably England, I never saw Spagna beat England."
England was wearing a long blue captain's coat that reached a little bit past his knees with matching golden emblems and epaulettes, the labels each engraved with a Tudor rose. The blond wore underneath his coat a plain white ivory shirt, fastened with a cravat around his neck—which supposed to be more "gentlemanly", yeah, right, they're pirates not high ranking officers. What a joke—and a green silk sash around his waist that concealed most of his brown leather belt holding two Flintlock muskets and two sheeted British officer rapiers which was rare and uncommon among the Pirates that rested dangerously on his hip. He was rumoured to be a legend with those swords, very precise and deadly. He donned a dark brown loose trousers tucked in knee-high black combative boots, laced all the way to the top along with a pair of white gloves made with the softest fabric for a good grip and a black tricorn captain's hat adorned with a lavish white plume. He has small pendants in his ears, mostly rubies and emeralds and a blue silk blue ribbon—that machted his captain's coat—tied in his somewhat sandy golden long blond hair and his usual smirk adorning his handsome face.
If Romano doesn't now better, he would say that England is hot, very hot, but also scary with that evil smirk adorning his handsome face. He wil never voice that out loud. That will be plain embarrassment for Romano. It wil be Romano's own, little dirty secret.
Spain was wearing something similar to that of England, only his captain's coat was red and it reached almost to the ground with the same golden emblems and epaulettes, the labels engraved with the Spanish Royal House. The conquistador wore underneath his coat also a simple ivory shirt, fastened with a white cravat around his neck and a yellow silk sash around his waist with a brown belt underneath, holding two silver pistols and his usual grand battle axe in his most dominant hand, even with that big killing weapon he's still fast and feline. He donned a black trousers tucked in brown knee-high combative boots without laces and a pair of dark gloves and a brown captain's tricorn hat adorned with a green lavish plume. A red ribbon tied in his curly chocolate brown hair and two small rubies in each of his ear.
Yep, that's what Spain usually wears, the only thing that seems odd, is that he is wearing a smirk. Similar to that from England's smirk. He will never say that Spain is hot, no. Not. Ever. Spain is his 'Boss', the man who raised him, cared for him, he see Spain like a brother to him, maybe even a father. It's weird to call your brother/father hot, well in his opinion, that is.
All of them has a dominant aura around them, everyone knows that if they fight it was pretty close. All of them are legends. You do not wish to cross their path, nor want to make them mad, only if you have a dead wish but even so, a fool would never dare do something stupid and foolish like that. Beware for what you say and speak. Get on their bad side and your done for, you're a feast for the crowds or sharks whatever fits their mood at that moment.
"What the fuck are they talking about? Wait a minute... He want to bet me away?! Chigiiiii~ ?!" Romano shrieked.
The heads from Spain and England shot up looking for the surge of the noise. They found Romano looking at them with wide eyes.
"Roma~ don't worry, Boss, will win," he said confidently, grinning—in the italian's opinion stupidly—his eyes flickers in the blond's direction waiting for his response.
"I don't think so, Carriedo, you wanker!"
"Don't worry," Romano shrieked, "Don't worry?! I have all the reasons in the world to worry, you pomodoro bastardo!"
"But Roma~ I promise I will win, I can hear my voices say that I'm going to win." He said, confident in his voice and determination shone in his eyes.
"Your voices!? You're voices, my mother fucking ass! You're voices don't like you, Antonio." He stated harshly.
"They do like me, Roma," the conquistador pouted childishly, "When did my voice ever said something wrong?" Spain questioned.
"Wel you kindly asked, for starters:
One; you thought that a fucking linx would make a perfect pet for me.
Two; they told you too let those Bulls lose without completely taming it."
"Hey, it's now my country's national sport!" He defended himself.
Romano gives Spain a death glare, to tell him to 'shut the fuck up or someting terrible will happen'. Spain who cannot read the mood, even if it can saves his life—most of the times—for once sensed the mood and wisely shuts his mouth.
3, they also told to you to skinny dip with, fucking sharks in Tenerife," Arthur snickered at that one, Antonio shot him a dirty glare. "Face it, Antonio, your so called 'voices' hates you... Cazzo! Hpmf, you now what? Fine... fine, do want you want! But if you lose,"
"I won't."
"Yes you will, you twat!"
And they're bickering again.
The Italian who has enough of there constant bickering, shouted on top of his lungs, "Will you, bastards, shut the fuck up!?" England and Spain immediately stopped at seeing Romano's scowl. "Thank you." He huffed, " Bastard, if you lose, I will come downstairs and kick your sorry ass around so that you cannot stand for a entire fucking week! Do you understand?"
"Sí, sí, I understand." Spain rolled his eyes.
With that said, they looked in each other eyes. All the same look in there eyes, power hungry, even with murderous looks in there eyes, and the same evil smirk on their faces whenever they fight against each other.
"Ready to lose again, Carriedo?" The blond spat, poison and venom lacing his every word.
"I'm ready to kick your ass anywhere, Kirkland." The brunet has a devilish grin plastered on his face.
With those words said, their weapons clashed.
"Chigiiiii~?!"
A familiar voice shrieked, if Spain's crew members doesn't now better. They would exactly chouted those words, but only different, of course.
The crew members where shocked, because they never saw there captain manage to beat that English bastard.
And the cherry on top, is that their captain is betting his 'cute' little henchmen away. They all know is that their captain will do everything for his henchmen—so they thought, but they should have known better. So...way betting him away? The idea only is already absurd, impossible, but they all know that it's true. They only can hope, pray and wait that their captain would win.
They stood across each other like they did multiple times already, but, this time things would get nasty. Spain was spinning his axe back- and forwards, his eyes sharp to every moves, breaths his opponent made. England was scrutinizing Spain, his eyes drawn to the Spaniard's form, he was trying to read him and he had his officer's rapiers loosely in his hands. None of them were moving, but they did circle each other like an eagle waiting to strike his prey. But the question is; who would land the first blow?—and who has the most dangerous attack? Britain or Spain?
"Ready to lose again, Carriedo?"
"I'm ready to kick your ass anytime, Kirkland."
Their macabre dance has started, the brunet and the blond were first to swing at each other, trying to land a blow—equally were fast—their weapons clashed. The sound of metal clinging rhythmically in their ears, pushing each other off, resulting in them sliding a few paces back.
Spain was the first one to recover and the first to strike, the blond, too, was fast to react and blocked it with ease and practiced skill. His left hand was breaking through Spain's attack, swiping his rapier at the brunet's neck. The Spaniard senses were on sharp, he leaned backwards and falling on his knees purposely to hook his dominant foot under the Brit.
The pirate collided on his back, Spain who was naturally taking advantage of the situation rose back steadily on his two feet and swinged his grand battle axe down at the man underneath him. The Brit rolled over and takes his two pistols out, he shot the first bullet and the other managed to rebound it with the blade of his axe and it took another path. The second bullet, however, the brunet couldn't avoid and took the hit in his shoulder—just a flesh wound, nothing too bad.
Spain's finger drifted to his new wound—it's not so deep—and smearing the red, thick liquid on his digits, eyeing the red substance before licking it and spitting it out like the most disgusting thing he has ever tasted in his entire lifetime.
England looked at him boredly, "Do you like it?" He asked. "Your blood, I mean." Britain clarified and grinned like a insane person—maybe he was insane?—his electrifying green shone diabolical, sadistic and malicious.
"Maybe." Spain hummed at the question, it wasn't an obvious answer but it would do. "But I like your blood better!" He stated abruptly while swinging his grand battle axe down vertically to England. The blond blocked it expertly with his rapiers crossed and started pushing back.
This was a test of strength, the first one to back off was the loser. And believe me, they aren't going to back off anytime soon and neither of them wanted to loose either.
"Why don't you back off, Kirkland?" The brunet spatted venomously.
"In your dreams, Carriedo." The blond responded with venom lacing his words, "ah wait, I take it back, even in your dreams you can't win from me." England smirked sadistically.
"Why do you want to win?" He asked annoyed and clearly pissed off.
"Maybe, because I have a reputation to uphold." He snapped, what a bloody, shitty question!
"Let me rephrase my words," he started pushing harder, "what is Romano to you?"
"Good question," he started pushing equally harder, "but before I get to that point. It's, "who is Romano to you". Your henchman is not a thing, Carriedo! He's a damn living person!" He barked, pushing even harder—if that's even possible.
Spain needed to take a few steps backwards otherwise he would fall and resulting in his probably—more likely—loss. "I know that!" He shouted angrily, "I was thinking that maybe you are the one that views him as a thing!" He pushed harder, how dare that, that devil think that he views him as a thing! He would never do that!—right? "And answer my damn question, Cabron!" Spain was pushing a notch higher.
"I don't know! That's my answer! Now shut up about it, you moron!" fury was evident in his electrifying green, he struggled to keep up with the pace, but that doesn't mean that he would give up. Maybe he doesn't know why, but one thing is sure, he had his pride on stake and he won't lose it. He wouldn't dare to.
"I thought so." Spain mumbled inaudible, even with how close they were—face to face—England couldn't hear him.
They backed rapidly off when a dagger whizzed past them and stuck in the hard wooden deck floor. A strong wind gusted by the dagger, it was going at an abnormal speed, no human or even a nation could've thrown that and precisely too, or was it a lucky throw? They discarded the second thought—it was way to real to let it be luck.
"What the bloody hell?!" England shouted.
"Qué mierda!?" Spain yelled loudly and looking frantically to his left and right.
"We're the fuck did that came from?!" England shouted.
"I think, Cabron, that it came from above." The brunet said whilst pointing a finger in a random direction in the sky.
"No shite, wanker!" England snapped irritated. He knew that!
They all looked around but the only one they saw was Romano and he wouldn't hurt a single fly, all bark but no bite. Oh how wrong they're. And they don't believe in miracle or magic either—aside from England but he's the only one. They don't think that a bird randomly flyed by and dropped a dagger right in front of their noses. As if that would happen, right..? So Romano is their only logical choice but even that seems impossible. It doesn't make sense at all!
They looked where Romano supposed to be, he looked down on them with mild interest, leaning over the support railings on his elbows with a bored expression on his face, scrutinising and scanning the area with hawk's eyes and searching for every single detail. "What!?" The younger brunet barked loudly when he couldn't handle the staring anymore.
"Roma, I know this is a weird question, but, did you throwed that dagger?" Spain questioned softly like he was a porcelain doll and holding the said dagger in his hand. It was certainly a beautiful piece of weapon and certainly crafted expertly with the best materials and with love?—, Spain noted.
"Do you really think a bird would drop it?" Romano inquired in a sarcastic manner, venom seeping in his wounds like poison.
The Spaniard flinched by the harsh tone, "Well, no, off course not!" Spain stuttered in panic, not sure of what to say next or even better, explain why he accused Romano of such things. He coughed awkwardly, drawing all the attention of the rest to himself, "You promised not to fight, remember?" He changed the subject.
"I didn't fight, I interfered." Romano stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Isn't it practically the same?"
"No, it's not, dumbass."
"Ouch, Roma, my heart." He said dramatically, posing like he was fainting.
"Whatever, you moron." The younger brunet rolled his natural coloured eyes.
"Even so, " he began, "no fighting or interfering." He said with a seriously look in his jade eyes.
"Fighting? Sure, no problem. Interfering? No promises."
"Roma..." He said in a warning tone, looking at him with a dark look in his eyes.
"Fine, fine! Whatever, bastardo!" He snapped bitterly, if he didn't have interfered, Spain would most likely lose their strengt test. But, he should let it be for now, there isn't much things he could do now any ways... After all, he needs to wait when the timing is right.
Meanwhile
Romano had climbed off the crows nest a while ago, he looked at the scene with an unreadable expression on his face, there's a storm of emotions in his eyes that most of the crew couldn't place but his face blank to mask his eyes, but they weren't fooled by it. They could see the conflict in his hazel-green eyes.
He stood by Spain's crew members. He got a hand on his left shoulder from Spain's first mate, he looked in his eyes and saw pity, sympathy but also a unsure look in those dark brown eyes, those eyes said, 'It's going to be alright, you don't have to worry.'
He just nodded and looked away, but they all know it's not gonna be alright and that nothing would be fine. But it's doesn't hurt to hope, right? Well, his hopes didn't last long before he saw the older Spaniard trapped against the wall with not much room to wield his halbert.
The brunet saw Spain trapped against the wall, he wanted to scream, shout, yell, everything to make him escape, but he can't, it's not his fight. He can't do a single fuck. But maybe... No, he can't. He shook his head, not this time...
The older brunet saw the horrid, painful look in those beautiful hazel-emeralds with golden specks eyes. And it saddened him. Because he was the cause of it, his beloved henchmen would never react like that, he was foolish to think he would win against nemesis. Now he has to give his Tomatito away. It's all his fault, he will never win against that Cabron. Why did he even suggested it in the first place
'No, you can't lose, do this for Romano.' with that single thought in his mind, Spain manage to pull one of his pistols out just in time when the blond decided to make a blow to his neck. A rapier in Spain's neck and a pistol on England's temple. Who would win? What is faster, a rapier wielded by England or a pistol wielded by Spain?.. They glared in each other eyes with the same hostile glint and taking deep breaths, panting heavenly from exhaustion even if they didn't know why.
After a few more moments, Spain took the first step and pulled the trigger, England—thanked the gods that he was granted with fast reflexes—he stepped aside letting the bulled passing swiftly through the air, the brunet took advantage from the newly made distance, dropped his pistol and swiftly took his halbert to land a heavy vertical blow and thrusted his axe as fast that it would allow him to.
"Bloody hell!" England cursed loudly, he expect something along those ways but he didn't thought that Spain would make his combos this quick. He was thrown off his balance with the thrust attack, and a bloody wanker that he was, the brunet swung his metal dead machine down at the other empire, if the Brit didn't rolled over on his left side he would probably be cutted in two slices and he whished to stay whole. He rolled a bit over and swung his legs 'till his foot touched the hardwood planks all in a matter of two seconds, the blond blocked the upcoming charge attack with his swords crossed and rooted his foot on the ground, not wanting to lose his balance now in the heat of moment, otherwise he would be in big trouble.
"Maldito sea!" Spain cursed indignantly. He was so close and for the first time winning! The Spaniard wielded his halbert back with two hands—like it's supposed to—to create even more power. He may have the upper hand now, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be wary around Inglaterra, he could turn situations with a flick of his writs and Spain doesn't want to risk to lose because he was being ignorant and arrogant that he though he still had it under his control. He attacked in a matter of seconds, more specifically aiming to chop England's head off in a not much of a graceful fashion.
They contiunued on and on like that, sparks literally flyed and shooted everywhere out the metal, taking their macabre dance to a whole higher level, they couldn't see the speed that they were clinging their weapons only feeling the slight gush of wind that erupted with it.
Romano followed every moves with wide, open eyes. He was definitely happy at Spain's comeback. But how long will it last? How long would it take for England to beat Spain? He know whatever Spain will do, England would still win. It's a shame though, he hoped that the older would win, but the chances are low.
He can see it, sense it, after all, he knows it, it's takes a good fighter to know a good fighter, only, Romano is better, way a better fighter than England. He has a lot of experiences that he would carry with him for his entire immortality, sometimes upon a night, he wished on fallen stars that one day, he would be freed from his duties to live a free life without much worries about his creed—their creed.
Spain doesn't know, doesn't have to know his secret, and Romano doesn't want it another way, Spain doesn't need to know his 'dark' secret; the darker side of him. He doesn't have to know that his beloved henchmen is not so innocent as he thought. With time, when the time is right—but the question is; when is the time right? He would reveal his secret to the whole world, but for now, it's better to stay hidden in the dark, in the shadows. Something, he's good at... He doesn't have to know how much people he killed and assassinated, rich or poor, woman, man, children, young or old, everything and anything would do for him, because he could care less about how many people he killed. He just wanted justice to prevail, nothing more nothing less. But sometimes, their dead faces follow him in his darkest nightmares, hunting his memories like a long dead ghost seeking vengeance. It was better that way; to kill them quick, clean and swiftly before they, the childeren, would become like their family. He has no remorse but sometimes he questioned his own sanity.
When he is a assassin and a damn good one as well. He is called Romano because it means 'a man from Rome' and Shadow Death—mostly because he hides in the shadow and nobody has ever seen his face, he's practically a ghost, a rumour—he is the second most feared assassin—if they even know he was an assassin. A bed time story for little children who had been bad, it's just only a rumour... right?
But that is besides the point, the point is that:
England has fast reflexes and good fighting skills. He is a expert with swords—he noted that much, hell, he is probably good with knives too, it wouldn't surprise him if England has knives in his boots or somewhere else. Romano saw England using a gun before, that bastard is although quite handy with a pistol. Romano may not be skilled with pistols but he has few trump cards of his own. The pirate bastard is very skilled when it comes to one on one fight, he has a powerful right fist, and a good left kick. The younger brunet also heard this certain rumour that the Brit killed the whole Man 'O War crew on his own whilst laughing and cackling maniacally and sadistically like he was the devil in person...but it was just a stupid rumour, but the Italian wouldn't be all too surprised if it was true.
From his close observations, England has quite a few special moves. Romano still don't know what, but with time, he will know all the weaknesses from England. After all, he is a professional assassin. Romano wants to use his weakness against him. When he has to fight or assassinate him or something else. Better safe than sorry, right? But something was hindering him from going further in his scrutiny, something to do with a long past memory.
Somehow, England lost his two rapiers a long the way, it went flying in two opposite directions and got stuck in the hardwood, England couldn't retrieve his weapons, it was too far away from his current position. He was trown out of balance with the next set of fast combos, he could mostly dodge them all but he lost his footing and stumbled. England who was hopeless but also not quite, he maybe doesn't have his swords but he still have his knives. With one swift moment he got up from the deck floor. Gracefully pulled his knives from his boots and blocked the upcoming attack.
"How many weapons do you have!?" Spain was flustered, not because he has to go on defense again, oh, no, not because of that. Each time when he want to attack, England blocked or in this case pulled knives from his boots. Oh come on, who still does that?
"As much as I needed, you bloody wanker! I don't have to tell you that, do I? I think you also have other weapons hidden on some parts of you're body." Wh does this idiot keeps on nagging? Can't he not just shut up for a few moments! Stupid Spaniards.
"Well, yes of course, better be prepared, sí?"
"Yes indeed."
Spain blocked few fast thrust attacks coming from the Brit and countered with his own. He got an advantage, his weapon is made for long range combat while knives are made for fast, quick strikes, it has a short range unless you throw it, of course. If he can manage to make England stay away from his rapiers he would be fine. But even so, wielding a large weapon like an axe takes a lot of energy and power.
'Huh, the wanker is tired, he is losing his strength with each time he blocked and swing. When I can feel the change I will strike, when he last expected it.' England smirked at that thought, 'Then his cute henchmen will be mine for taking. Wait a bloody minute... did I just called South Italy cute? Yes indeed, I did called him cute.' England blushed, 'Damn the frog for giving me those perverse thought of his. I really should stop listening at the damn bloody frog!' England shakes his head clearing those thoughts of him and getting rid of his blush.
'They are both tired, but they don't show it,' Romano mused, 'Tomato bastard, is more tired than, scone basterd, he is going to lose his strength sone. When that's going to happen, scone basterd will strike. Powerful, quick, but above all, professional. Spain has no chance in winning at this rate, actually, he never has a change to begin with. He cannot win from him, why don't he just accept it?' Romano shakes his head in disapproval. 'Aah, the bastard is smirking, he knows it, when the time comes he will strike.' Romano mused, 'Huh, why the hell is he blushing?' The younger brunet questioned to himself, 'Must be a stupid thought.' He looked again at the fighting scene in front of him.
'Dammit, he knows it. Stay sharp. Be alert...'
Spain blocked the attack from England. But what he doesn't know is, is was a feigned attack. Spain was flustered, England who saw his chance swiftly cut Spain's arm, out of reflection Spain axe fall out of his hands, grabbing his hurt arm and stumbled backwards. "Mierda!" Spain cursed, rage visible in his eyes, you can't let emotions get the best of you, España!
Arthur swiftly hid his knives back in his boots in one movement and clenched his fists tight together. Arthur landed a hard blow on the Spaniard's stomach, who automatically bend over from the pain. Arthur landed another blow on his left jaw, another on the right, grabbing the Spaniard's collar and slamming his right fist in his stomach, making the latter bend over and stumble backwards. Arthur who made use from Antonio's confusion and pain, grabbed his wrist and throw him over his back. Antonio who tried to stand up again got a foot against his shoulder blade. Man, what does that hurts.
He managed to get away when the Briton tried to slam his foot back against his shoulder. He rolled away just in time when the Briton's foot comes down, he stand back on his feet, trying to ignore the pain on his body. He really lost count on his bruises delivered from the said Brit and spits the blood out of his mouth. And he took a fighting position, his jade eyes following every move the blond made. He blocked the fist with a single hand and countered with his his left fist which is blocked by the Brit, England took advantage from the split momentum, he brought his leg in the Spaniards knee. His knee twisted in a weird angle, Spain took a risk and kicked at England, aiming for his foot, and successfully sending the blond stumbling backwards, before quickly reversing their position, forcing the Brit on his back. The brunet grabbed a handful of his collar and charged his dominant hand, landing a heavy blow on the other's jaw, and sending England flying a few feet away—heavily panting.
England stood back on his foot, and regaining his footing and balance, he didn't got all that much time and change to defend himself when Spain rammed his fist in his opponent's chin, delivering punch after punches. Without giving the blond time to retaliate, the brunet continued to alternate his punches and kicked the shorter male away to create a distance again. Not once has the blond toppled over from Spain's blows. He did, however, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, smearing the red substance on his white shirt and glaring pointedly and sharply at the brunet with his vibrant green eyes. Which is why that the brunet smirked.
Spain charged at him again, the right hook that was aimed to his face was expertly dodged, and the right swing aimed for his stomach was also quickly blocked with England's right hand. The slight transfer of momentum sended the Spaniard flying over England's shoulder—à la England style—flipping Spain on the ground. England didn't have enough time to pin the brunet down and he took advantage for it to sweep the Brit's foot of the ground causing him to lose his balance.
"I know all your tricks, Diablo Inglès." Spain spat whilst England regained his footing.
"Obviously, you don't know them good enough." England remarked dryly, sarcasm and venom lacing his words. As Spain moved to kick him, his English opponent countered with his own kick—a perfectly high kick that propelled the Spaniard a few paces and with a perfect and calculated timing he made a high roundhouse kick that made him fly and crashing down the floor. Before he could stand up again, the Brit had him already pinned his wrists above his head with his left hand and whit his right hand pulled a knife out his boot and held it against the brunet's throat. The blond made sure with his knees that Spain could not stand back on his feet.
"I won again, Carriedo," England stands up with a triumphantly smirk on his face and panting, exhausted and worn out from their fight. Giving Spain his hand and pulled him up. "But I have to say, Carriedo, it was our longest fight that we ever had. And it's not because that someone interfered us." The blond looked for the Italian brunet, but he couldn't find him anywhere, it was like he simply disappeared.
Spain looked at his feet. Oh, how much he wanted to cry right now. Not only did he lose to his arch enemy, but he also have to live without his dear Romano for a entire month. Life sucks.
"Sí, it was our longest fight and I lose... again,"
"Chin up, mate! You did fight good. Next time better, I guess." He responded amiable.
Spain's head shot up looking in the Brit's electrifying green eyes for someting he cannot place his fingers on. But he only saw sympathy.
"Sí, next time better. But Roma is still going to kill me."
England raised a eyebrow, "Romano wouldn't kill you, you raised him and all," but he had a unsure look in his eyes, and quickly added, "I think?"
Antonio laughed a little bit at the last comment. "You don't know mi Tomate like I do. He always comes back to his words. I'm going to be so dead." Antonio groaned and complained.
The brunet received a pat on the shoulder from the blond, "I don't think it would be that bad. If you are lucky, he does it quick." The blond gave a encouraged smile.
The brunet doesn't know if he should take comfort in those words and smile, but he doesn't.
"Yeah, if I'm lucky, that is."
Taking a few deep, calming breaths. Spain turned around to face his Roma, but his henchman was nowhere to be seen. The only persons that he saw where his and England's crew members. The crew from England where proud of their captain. His crew members where disappointed at the loss of their captain. He cannot blame them, the only one who is the blame, was himself, he was foolish enough to challenge the king of the 7 seas.
"Do you guys saw my Romano?" The Spaniard asked.
Either shook their head or shrugged like they don't care.
"I'm not your 'Romano', asshole," a familiar voice yelled behind the Spaniard's back. "I never was. Other than that you raised me. I never was your 'Romano'." Spain quickly turned around to see that the Italian is already stands beside the Brit.
The Brit was stunned and chocked. What the bloody shite?! How could he not hear or saw him coming?
He looked up to see that Romano had already packed everything he needed for his stay on England's ship in a shouder-bag but what Spain saddened the most was the violin case in the Italian's hands.
When he was very upset, the latter would express his emotions by singing or playing instruments. When he is very pissed, angry or furious or both, he will trash the ship upside down and scream bloody murder. Now, that was a sight you don't want to see.
One time Romano was so pissed and angry that he begins throwing books and chairs, then with bookcases and beds, than throwing knives at lightning speed, at that moment he and his crew members retreated in a small cafe or pub, not far but also not close from the harbor. Waiting for the storm to calm down.
When they thought that the Italian should be cooled of, they returned back to the ship. When they reached the harbor they saw the Italian sitting on the dock with his legs against his chest and his head on his knees, looking at the beautiful sunset.
Romano who knew that there was a present behind his back just shrugged it of and stared at the beautiful sunset in front of him.
But what traumatized them the most was:
One; there was nothing left in piece or not damaged.
Two; his armada was sinking, yes... sinking. That was one of his best armada, it cannot just sink like that!
Three; his armada was on fire, oh hell to the yes... on fire. So far that he knows he doesn't have explosives or something that can go on fire on his armada. So, why in the name of the holy Mother Maria is his armada on fire?
At that moment they eyed eachother and silently vowed to never make Romano that pissed or angry. Hey, you cannot blame them, they don't want to be ripped to shreds and for a unknown reason standing on fire.
He didn't dare to look Romano in the eyes in the eyes. Taking a few, deep calming breaths to calm himself down. It wouldn't be too bad, it wouldn't be too bad, he chanted in his head.
He looked in those rare yet beautiful eyes, those hazel-emerald colored eyes with golden specks screaming so many emotions, anger, mad, pissed, furious, sad, betrayed and depressed, after seeing so many emotions boiling deep in Romano's core. The Italian didn't show how mad he really was, or how hurt he really is. Romano is so strong, Spain is so proud of his little henchmen. But after seeing so many emotions in those gorgeous gems, and all directed to him. That make the Spaniard look at his feet again. "Roma, I'm so sorry that I cannot make my promise true." regaining his posture, and that he knows for sure that he will not run away and cry in a dark corner or dig a deep hole for himself.
Man, what do he need to man up! The Spaniard looked Romano back in the eyes.
"Don't. Call. Me. Roma. How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that, dumb as fuck tomato bastardo." His voice was deadly calm it hold no emotions, but his eyes betrayed him... badly. The younger brunet looked away from the Spaniard, looking at everything but not at him.
He was deeply hurt, who was he kidding? His boss bet him away because of his foolishness, and now Romano has to suffer, he has no say in this stupid bet of theirs. Spain took a step to Romano whitch Romano took a step back, Spain took a step Romano took a step back, again, again and again until the Italian back the as flat against the wall of the ship.
"Roma, I am so,"
"Don't finish it, bastard. If you are truly sorry, than you wouldn't have bet me away, asshole! So... that means that you are not truly sorry."
"Romano, I am truly sorry." shaking his head, regret clouding his eyes.
Arthur just looked at the scene in front of him, he didn't want to interfere at their argument or be the victim of the Italian's wrath—he heard of what happened to Spain's armada.) He didnt want to get caught in their screaming match. "Don't finish it, bastard. If you are truly sorry than you wouldn't bet me away, asshole! So that means that you are not truly sorry."
"Romano, I am truly sorry! I made a big mistake! Please, just please forgive me!" Spain begged of the Italian.
"Forgive you, bastard?! Forgive you at what you done to me!?" His shrieked, his voice cracked. His eyes started to be a color of a pool of smelting gold with here and there emeralds specks but it didn't shed tears yet, he wanted to, but be didn't. 'Only weaklings show their emotions all the time. I'm not weak, I'm not as weak as fratellino.' With a confident nod, the Italian looked back in the Spaniard forest-jade gems, holding no emotions at all, like it's was never there to begin with. It was gone, vanished.
Now the Italian was glaring at Spain with a icy glare, daring him to take a step in his direction if he did he will undergo a slow and painful torture and then death. The Spaniard was oblivious to that but he did sensed the deathly aura coming from Romano and wisely lifted his arms in a sign of surrender and backed of.
Romano ran a hand trough his neatly tamed auburn hair, turning a lock around his finger and gently tucking on it, tucking a few strands behind his ear with his left hand, but they just fell back. Still glaring at Spain when he suddenly said, "Dio, I don't have time to deal with this shit." He pivoted on his heel, with his back facing the Spaniard and his glare focused on the Brit in front of him.
England was a little bit shocked that the Italian's wrath was now directed to him. Coming back out of his shocked state he returned the glare. But England was a little bit uncomfortable under the tension of Romano's glare, so he is the first one to break the ice, "What!?"
Romano still did look England in his electrifying green eyes but he didn't glare anymore, much to everyone relieve.
"Scone bastardo, you have to live with me for a entire month, because of someone," he turned his head over his shoulder and shot Spain a dirty glare, Spain's vision clouded with shame and guild. Romano looked back at England. "You have to live with my, like the most people like to call 'moody' and 'shitty' attitude. So don't you dare try to complain about my 'moody' and 'shitty' attitude, do you understand?"
England just nodded he doesn't have the strength to deal with a certain angry southern Italian nation.
"Alright, I can deal with that." He nodded. "I have to deal with a pervert-frog face and a way to energetic Alfred."
Romano raised a eyebrow in a 'I don't give a single fuck ' look, but he did have a curious glint in his gems.
England didn't understand way Romano is being curious, but soon his coin fell. "Ahh, Alfred is America, you know, from over seas."
"Oh?" He said confused, " I think I saw him once time... Yeah, he reminds me of my stupid, idiotic, pasta-loving fratellino. I don't understand where their energy is coming from."
England cracked a smile, "There are some mysteries that you just cannot solve."
Romano give England a half subtle smile in understanding how it feels to himself.
England could only admire the rare, yet beautiful smile, it would only be more beautiful if it was a full smile.
He gave Romano a gentle smile and his hand for him to shake, "Truce?"
"Truce... for now." He shakes their hand confirming their deal with a playful smirk.
England returned the playful smirk, "Yeah, for now."
"Come on, scone bastard! I have to stay a whole damn month on your damn ship, I can make it for us both a little bit better!" 'Maybe it would not be so bad as I thought. We'll see.' Lovino mused.
"My armada is not a damn ship, wanker! We'll see, you daft little git!" His words may come out harsh, or many because it was? But it's was more playful and a little bit joyful. "Come on! Step on my ship, git! I don't have all the time of the world, you know!" He said it with a little playfull smirk on his lips.
Arthur's crew were already on their ship and he hopped back on his ship. Only Romano was still on Spain's Armada.
He turned to see the Spaniard, he had no emotions in his eyes, but there is someting, someting in the way he eyed the Spainiard, like a look of a killer when he was going to kill someone, cold, heartless and no regret, he is going to do what he has to do. But he also has a different aura someone who has power and is not scared to use it.
Why does it felt like he saw those eyes once a time. It was a long time ago, but he still remember. How could he not when he saw such a brutal murder, the walls painted red with the blood of the assassin's victims.
No, it can't be, it's just can't! It's just a hallucination! Nothing more, nothing less.
The older brunet knows that he lost his henchman thrust from there on. He could see it in his eyes.
"I hate you." the words carried by the passing wind. A look of shock and bewilderment on Spain's face and leaving his heart cold.
With that he calmly pivoted on his heel and the dress swirled with his sudden movement and calmly walked away and hopped on the English grand ship. He gave a little finger wave and shouted, a smile on his face—a pained one, "Bye, figlio di puttana!" and said it in Spanish.
But not before he saw the broken and shattered face that the Spaniard made.
England ship sets sail, slowly fading away in the beautiful sunset.
~~End flashback~~
That takes us back to the present
Snap!
A.N.:
*Walks out the door named 'Hell'* Hello, it's me, JessicaStarCrossed, the horrible writer with shitty updates. You all are probably angry if you have actually a writer like me. I know if I wasn't the writer of this, I would be mad too. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed it! It's almost been a year since I have last updated it. I didn't change much, only the fighting scene took a lot of my time and I was being lazy! *rubs neck* Hehe, sorry guys! I really want to make that scene awesome, but I think I epically failed, *shrugs* whatever. I'm just damn happy that it's updated, it has been a while!
Well, that's also lifted of my chest. I want to thank a few people for favouriting and following also thank you for your time to review! It means very much to me!
There are not much changes only except that instead of 'Lovino' it would be 'Romano' but I have my reasons, you guys would figure it out when this story actually does progress. Also, this is going to be mystery because I have my reasons *twirls hair*.
Oh, I write most of my things on paper first, the very reason why update is so slow, I just mostly type it over when I have time and am not being lazy (which happens a lot btw). So, yeah! I'm a slacker. Don't judge, you know your like that too! But even so, I'm a perfectionist (a surprise right?), that's why I edit it a lot and am not always completely satisfied with it most of the times.
Im going to stop rambling now! Thank you for staying with me! Thank you for everything, your support and the like! I'm grateful for that!
Sincerely,
-JessicaStarCrossed
(ps: if you pester me enough, I might update frequently or as soon as humanly—for me—possible)
