Tarantella by nightxiniall.
Oh wow. Been a while. OH NO I JUST REALIZED PEOPLE WILL HATE ME FOR WRITING FANFICTION WHEN I SHOULD BE UPDATING MY OTHER ONES. I'M SORRY DRAGON AGE, I'VE LOST INTEREST IN YOU. MAYBE WHEN YOU COME OUT WITH A NEW CAMPAIGN.
So I got this idea forever ago when I was zoned out in my bed, sick. Mafia boss!Romano is smexy. O3o I am sorry if my terrible writing, overuse of , obvious time spent researching random-ass things like cars and flowers, and weird story freak you out and/or blind you.
And Lewis Carroll is amazing for inventing such silly words like portmanteau. XD
I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. If I did, as I'm sure I said before at one point or another, THE SERIES WOULD SUCK, and no one would like it. I also do not own the (yes it is real) Cantinetta Antinori. It's a restaurant in Florence, Italy. :D
A sleek silver SEAT Ibiza slowly pulled by the curb in front of a pricey looking one story house. The house had grass green paint on the walls, the roof was covered in newly placed black coal shingles, and the front door was a pleasant yellow. The lawn was clean cut, and had a small patch of aquilegias, magenta in the almost-evening light, growing a little to the left. As soon as the car had stopped, the passenger seat door sprung open, and a fair-skinned blonde man pranced – yes, pranced – out. His light royal blue eyes gazed at the view from the steep hill across the street. You could see a field, looking from bottom to top, blending into a beach, then sea, and finally the yellows, oranges, pinks, and purples of a sunset.
The man sighed in appreciation. What a beautiful thing to paint, it would be. As soon as he returned home to Paris, he could sell each painting for a fortune! But no, he had come to South Italy for good. Well, at least, until he and his companion get kicked out. Again. How many countries had they been restricted from again? Ah well, that didn't matter.
Behind him, another man climbed out of the sports car. His slightly tanned skin nearly glowed in the light. He stretched, face contorting into a mix of respite and anticipation for the inevitable. Moving. He let out a groan, and fussed with his monotone brown hair. He leaned back into the car, and flicked a button. The trunk popped open. He looked at his friend; the blonde was admiring a daily occurrence. He shut the car's front door and walked to the trunk.
"N'est-il pas beau, Antonio? Especially at sunset?" the Frenchman clasped his hands together, and turned to his Spanish friend. Antonio didn't spare him a glance as pulled out his modest two suitcases. "Francis, you should grab your stuff before I dump it in a lake." Antonio was rather irritable. He had driven to Italy all the way from Spain, and not to mention Francis' talking. How can someone talk so much?
Francis' eyes widened, as he yelped, "B-But, my painting collection!" He ran to the back of the car and grabbed his suitcase. And his bag. And his other suitcase. Oh and don't forget the purse (it was a purse no matter what way you looked at it, but Francis always claimed is was merely another bag). "Jeez, how did we even fit all of those in the car?" muttered Antonio, slamming the trunk door closed. Francis slid the duffel and purse over his shoulder, and grasped the handles of the portmanteaus in his hands.
"Francis, the movers won't be here until tomorrow--," Antonio was interrupted by a loud squawk.
"What?! Where are we supposed to sleep, then?!" Francis had dropped the suitcases, and ran back to his accomplice, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. Antonio quickly grabbed the other man's wrists, and explained, "I have a friend here, and he'll let us stay at his house for a night, calm down!" Francis was silent for a couple seconds, then sighed in relief.
"So, who is he?" Francis asked, picking up his bags once more, and turning back towards the house. The two walked the path consisting of large flat unnaturally-natural rocks. "Someone I met in back in Spain. He was my friend for a while, but he left for Italy," Antonio said vaguely. Francis raised an eyebrow and smirked, "What kind of frie-- ahh! Ow!" Antonio laughed at his fallen friend on the doorstep.
"Antonio! What was that for?" Antonio stepped over the man and laughed, "Hurry up Francis, or do you want to sleep there instead?"
It was late now, the light pollution was high so hardly any stars were seen as Francis and Antonio walked to wherever this "friend" was. Many people were still awake, some drunkenly roaming the streets with maidens, some busy looking hoity-toities. Plenty of restaurants were passed, as well, making Francis' mouth water. On several occasions, Antonio had to physically pull the man away. Though half the time, he thought it was less about the food, and more about to attractive Italian women serving said restaurants.
Eventually, Antonio and Francis stopped outside of a three story building. The walls were lime green with a section baby blue. The windows and doors had red paneling, a stark contrast to the rest of the building. Two stories up above the front door read, "Cantinetta Antinori". Antonio pushed the door open. Inside, circular tables were all around, and the chairs that were usually on the ground were now placed on top of the tables. They walked further inside the building, and suddenly, a stern, yet calm voice was heard, "It is eleven twenty three, this establishment closed about an hour ago."
A pale man walked out from seemingly nowhere, and Antonio gasped in recognition. "Roderich! I haven't seen you in forever!" The Spaniard walked up to him, and wrapped his arms around the other. Roderich frowned crossly. He would push Antonio off, but his arms were trapped. "Antonio, do you mind..?"
"Oh right, sorry," Antonio let him go and grinned apologetically. The tanned man remembered why he was there in the first place, and put on the most pitiable face he could muster; he whimpered, "Roddy, could you do me a huuuuuuuge favor?" Roderich merely raised an eyebrow in response. Antonio leaned back on a table, nearly knocking off a chair. "Could we, ah... stay here for a night?"
Roderich was silent, pushing his dark brunette hair behind his ear, and stared. He glanced between the two (slightly sketchy looking) men, with a wary look. Finally he sighed and said, "I really don't kno--."
The manager was interrupted by a loud BANG!, and all three pairs of eyes looked towards the door in surprise.
In the doorway stood a man. This, however, was no ordinary man. His hair was platinum, with a barely noticeable shade of extremely pale blonde. His ferocious red eyes were starkly contrasted to his pale skin. On his face was what could only be described as a devilish grin, and he stared at Roderich like a predator his prey. His attire was odd as well. A black pinstripe coat, tightened by a belt around his waist, and a navy blue dress shirt underneath. Along with slimming matching pinstripe pants constricted halfway by boots.
"C'mon, Mr. Manager," the pale man smirked, and walked up to Roderich, and grabbed his collar, "It's about time you paid up." He dragged him out the restaurant. Antonio and Francis were shell shocked, unable to move anywhere but the window.
Outside, there was another man. Chestnut hair, sun kissed skin, and a normal white dress shirt with the collar popped, and black slacks. His face was out of view, though.
They couldn't hear the conversation, but the scene was scary enough. The pale (could he have been albino, even?) man shoved Roderich to the now empty street, where he stared up at the plainly dressed man pleadingly. He looked absolutely terrified, and Antonio couldn't help but think that he could only have a sadistic expression on his face. The albino seemed to laugh at whatever Roderich said, and kicked him to the ground. The other man finally turned, and Antonio gasped at the beautiful honey colored eyes that looked up at the sky.
(But he was right about the sadistic expression.)
Roderich said something, and the other man looked back at him. He said something that seemed to slightly relax Roderich, and waved him off. He and the albino stalked off, and moments after, the streets were crowed once more.
The owner of Cantinetta Antinori walked back inside, and looked at the two shakingly. "Alright, Antonio, you can stay. But you have to work for me. For two months." Antonio's eyebrows turned up in concern, but he simply replied, "Okay."
End of chapter 1. WOO.
Well, I hope you guyssssss liked it. This is only the first chapter; there will be plenty more, trust me. AND I PROMISE I WON'T GIVE IT UP. : D