Spain hummed cheerfully as he lay on the sofa, for once enjoying a moment of peace. It wasn't often that he got a day off, but his boss said he'd been working far too hard lately and had given him the day off to make up for it. For the first time in far too long, he'd spent the day how he liked, playing guitar, tending to the tomatoes and taking siestas. It had been blissful.

Lazily, he opened one eye and glanced out the window to check how late it was. To his surprise, the sun was only just peeking above the horizon, and the top of the sky was a tranquil navy blue. How had it gotten so late already? Romano would be demanding his dinner soon.

Right on cue, a small voice chimed from the other room. "Oi, bastard! Make some food, damn it. I'm hungry." This was accompanied by a short bang, probably from Romano throwing something against the wall to emphasise his statement.

Spain sighed. No rest for the wicked, after all. Sometimes he wished Romano would learn how to take care of himself sometimes. It'd take a few jobs away from his overworked caretaker.

A vision of the kitchen in flames, engulfing his tiny henchman as he clutched a frying pan in terror suddenly flashed before Spain's eyes. Then again, Romano cooking might not be such a good idea. Perhaps when he was a bit older.

Still humming, he wandered into the pantry to investigate what there was for dinner. He'd noticed yesterday that they were fairly low on provisions, but he hadn't particularly fancied spending his day off going to buy food, so he'd put the job off until tomorrow. But it looked like that had been a bad decision.

The shelves were bare save for bottles of spices, and the cupboards only held empty packets and the final crumbs of odd ingredients. Nothing that would combine to make a meal for a single person, let alone two, especially with one of those two being a hungry child.

Spain bit his lip as he searched further, but quickly withdrew from the cupboards as he discovered nothing but dust. This wasn't looking good. Perhaps underneath?

He ducked under the cupboards and, to his delight, spotted a half-full sack on the floor. Sacks in pantries held food, and that was what he was after. Dinner was back on! He scrabbled at it, pulling the coarse material out, and peered inside. His face went suddenly blank, then turned swiftly to pure terror. Not this. Anything but this. The sack was full of-

Potatoes.

Spain's heart sank in despair and he leant against the wall in an effort to keep himself upright. He himself was perfectly fine eating potatoes, but Romano... There was no way that he'd eat this. He hated potatoes with unequalled passion.

In short, Spain was dead.

Just as he was about to go admit defeat to Romano and accept his charge's fury, his natural demeanour kicked in. He couldn't give up yet. There had to be something he could do. With the sack of potatoes in one hand, Spain walked into the kitchen and looked around. How could he make potatoes edible to Romano?

Well, there was a bit of sugar on the cabinet, but that wouldn't work. That'd just make everything worse. There was some olive oil on the sideboard – that'd be good for cooking the potatoes with, but it wouldn't help in the slightest in getting Romano to eat them. He was running out of ideas fast, and time even faster.

Then his eyes fell on the bowl of tomatoes on the side.

An idea sparked to life in the back of his mind. Romano may hate potatoes, but he loved tomatoes. Would one the benefits of the former cancel out the drawbacks of the other? He had no choice but to try. Knowing there wasn't all that much time before Romano came investigating after the food, he grabbed a frying pan and a knife and got to work. He was a fairly versatile and imaginative cook, after all. He had to be able to come up with a way to make things work.

OOooOO

"Roma~! Food's up!" Spain called nervously some time later as he laid the plates out on the table.

There was the sound of scurrying footsteps less than a second after he finished talking, and a few moments later Romano crashed into the room. "'Bout time, damn it. I'm starved." Spain gave him a nervous glance as he took his own seat. His stomach twinged in anticipation of the painful headbutt he was probably about to receive.

The boy clambered onto the table and seized his fork, then saw what was on the plate and gave Spain a disbelieving look. "The hell is this?"

"Patatas bravas," Spain answered tentatively. "It's potatoes with tomatoes, some chilli peppers and paprika. I just invented it."

Romano scowled. "You expect me to eat this? They're potatoes, bastard! Potatoes are disgusting! You better be hiding some really delicious food behind you if you want to get away with this joke."

"We don't have any other food, Roma. This is all there was in the pantry. I'll go to the market tomorrow." Spain was desperately trying to save himself before Romano got mad, but he knew the boy was unlikely to listen to logic.

"No! I want something else! I hate potatoes!" Romano yelled, standing up on his seat so he was at the same level as Spain, who could sense the tantrum level rising steadily.

He had perhaps a minute left. "It's nice, I promise! Look, I mixed some tomatoes in and you love those, so it's like a neutral ground.

Romano looked horrified. "You put tomatoes in with potatoes? That...that's heresy! How could you?"

"I know, but it's all we had, Roma. Look, you either wait until tomorrow lunchtime without any more food or disregard your hatred for potatoes and eat this."

A growl from Romano's traitorous stomach supported Spain's latter argument. The boy scowled and reluctantly speared a piece of potato. If looks had the physical effect that they expressed, the potato would be a charred crisp in the centre of a roaring fire about now, Spain thought.

Romano chewed the mouthful slowly, and Spain saw his young charge's eyes widen ever so slightly. "It's squishy and disgusting, like a potato," Romano said thoughtfully, "but it's tangy and delicious like a tomato." Still scowling dubiously, he scooped up another mouthful for a second opinion.

Spain watched him carefully as he picked at his own meal, and, to his never-ending surprise, within five minutes Romano's plate was clean.

"Well, Roma? What did you think?"

Romano levelled his fork at him. "You got lucky this time, bastard, as the alternative was starvation. But if you ever try feeding me those damn potatoes again, I'm going to stick this in your eye." With that, he threw down his cutlery and stalked out of the room.

Spain laughed to himself. It looked like this meal was a success. He'd have to write the recipe down somewhere.

Patatas bravas (literally 'wild potatoes', as far as I know, correct me if I'm wrong), is a Spanish dish made of potatoes and tomatoes, among other things and is usually served with fish. I had it for the first time a few months ago and as soon as I learned what it was, I thought 'I know where this came from'. And thus, this was born. Spain was very fortunate in getting away with such heresy.

I've been meaning to write this story for a while actually, but I had patatas bravas for dinner today, and it reminded me.