In a Galaxy Far Far Away
Red lights flooded the corridors of the Pomodoro as the warning sirens blared over the com-system. They should have known they were in trouble the second they saw the Anatolian ship appear on their radar. But Spain had been lazing about on his job, so no one had been notified until it was too late.
And so Romano stood, warily eying airlock five and shakily holding his blaster. Damnit Spain. It's all your fault that this happened! Ugh!
A violent clang echoed down the corridor as the Anatolians attached their docking ramp. They were coming aboard. Romano glared at the airlock. They were coming aboard right on the level Romano was guarding and this was all that bastard Spain's fault. Romano gulped as the airlock was forced open and the ship shuddered. The Anatolians had tampered with the nav-system and most likely were trying to take out the com-system too.
"Oi Spain!" Romano yelled into his earpiece. "They're at airlock five. They're..." Static crackled.
"They're...where you are, Romano?" Spain asked, far too casually.
"Get your loser ass down here!" He snapped in reply. There was no way he was going to fight these guys. Jeez, what was Spain thinking?
The line crackled again. "I can't. They've locked down the ship, Romano."
"What? What the hell do you..." He trailed off as the airlock door clattered open and three looming figures stepped into the corridor. "Spain. They're here."
"All the doors are locked down," Spain said, a little too calmly for Romano's taste. "Just hang in there, Romano."
"Spain, you bastard! Don't you dare leave me down here!" There was nothing but static in reply. "Oi, jerk!"
His earpiece emitted a loud piercing whine and started to smoke. With a curse, Romano grabbed it off his head and tossed it to the ground. They'd overtaken the com-system. Completely and totally fried.
Warily, Romano glanced around the corner at the three approaching figures. Two of them were distinctly Anatolian, large and burly creatures with ugly brownish faces and thick hairy fur covering their entire bodies. But the third, and obviously the leader of the group, was a humanoid male whose face was obscured with a white mask. He caught a glimpse of Romano and grinned.
"Oh ho, what's this? Looks like we've found our prize. Whaddya know, our source was right. There's an Italian aboard."
Romano balked. He'd heard about this man, a collector if you will, that would seek out certain races across the galaxy. Gripping his blaster tighter and willing down the urge to cry, the russet haired man leveled his gun at the intruder's chest.
"D-Don't move."
"Well what about that. He's got a little fight in him. Do you know who I am, Italian?"
Romano mustered up a bit of courage. "Y-You're Turkey."
The man grinned smugly. "I see my reputation precedes me. Then you oughta know exactly what I'm here for, Italian. You're my prize. The rest of the crew will be killed or sold off, depending on their value; and the ship will be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now why donchta put down that blaster and come quietly. I might spare a few more lives if I'm inna good mood."
Damnit. I can't do anything against him. And he's gonna... Romano's eyes went wide as the full implications of Turkey's threat hit him. Spain. He's gonna kill Spain.
With a renewed sense of bravery, Romano steadied his aim. "N-No."
The two Anatolians seemed to chuckle at this while Turkey just confidently strode forward. "Try it, Italian." Shaking, Romano pulled the trigger; the shot not even coming close to hitting his target. Turkey just laughed. "Not very good fighters, Italians. But their Earth-heritage is such a good selling point."
Tears prickled at his eyes. He was going to be captured, Spain was going to be killed and damnit, he couldn't do anything. "Damnit Spain, come save me," he mumbled.
He felt Turkey's rough grip on his shoulder, and was just about to fire another futile shot when a voice called down from above. "H-Hey, it's not nice to steal other people's partners."
As the three intruders looked up to see where the voice was coming from, the ventilation shaft grate came clattering down onto Turkey's head, knocking him unconscious.
"Yakalayın onu!" The taller of the two Anatolians cried, both of them aiming at the shadowy figure perched in the vent.
But the man was the faster draw, quickly aiming his blaster at them and firing as he jumped down from the vent in front of Romano; one Anatolian hitting the ground as he landed.
Romano's eyes widened as he saw just who his savior was. Rubbing the forming tears from the corner of his eyes, the Italian cursed, "Damnit Spain, what the hell took you so long!?"
Spain just chuckled, his eyes never leaving the remaining Anatolian. "Didn't ya know Romano? When the door system is locked down, I ain't got a choice but to do take the long route through the vents."
The remaining Anatolian leveled his large gun at Spain, speaking with a thick and growling accent. "You are not necessary alive. You can be disposed of."
They fired simultaneously; Spain's blaster skidding out of his hands and onto the floor, the shot grazing his arm. The Anatolian grinned cruelly. "Ölmeye hazır ol."
Before the alien could even pull his trigger, a blaster's shot hit him square in the chest and he toppled backwards. Spain just smiled.
"Ya should really not try and kill me when there's an armed Italian who is rather protective of me standing by." He turned to Romano, his smile turning distinctly fond. "You managed to hit him. Thanks."
"Sh-Shut up!" He snapped, face bright red.
Spain chuckled, using his toe to push the prone forms of the stunned and unconscious intruders back onto their docking ramp. "Better get 'em back over there and get our nav-system back up before they realize their friends ain't coming back."
Romano nodded, leaning down to help Spain push the heavy Anatolian back onto his own ship. They sealed the ramp off and Spain fired a blaster at the docking joints to detach them. Spain and Romano quickly retreated into the airlock and from the safety of their own vessel, they watched as the ramp broke away and the ships started to drift apart.
Rubbing his injured arm absently, Spain just sighed. "That could have gone much worse."
Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms wrapping around him and a face buried against his chest. "Don't act so damned casual about this you jerk!"
"Romano..."
"Damnit Spain!" The Italian pulled back, leveling him with an intense gaze. "You could have been killed."
Spain shrugged. "Well, there's always that risk that--"
His words were cut off as Romano pressed a fierce kiss to his lips and the Italian shoved him back against the corridor wall.
When they pulled apart, Romano couldn't meet his eyes as he mumbled a few words. "...Thanks, you idiot."
A fond smile crept onto Spain's lips as he reached up with his good arm and ruffled Romano's hair. "Don't worry. I'll try not to do anything stupidly heroic anytime soon."
Romano huffed and turned on his heel, crossing his arms. "Let's get you to the infirmary, loser. You're bleeding all over the floor."
Spain laughed, wrapping his good arm around Romano's shoulders as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Love ya too, Romano."