"Are you sure you don't need help with that, Italy?"
He looked down from the ladder he on, hanging up silver tinsel. "I'm fine. Don't worry."
"Trust me, I worry," I groaned. "Please be careful."
"Okay!"
I rushed over to the Christmas tree and continued putting on decorations. I sentimentally patted my key necklace. I remembered putting up ornaments with my dad when he still lived with us. But now was no time to get sappy. I grabbed a red and white one and hung it on a branch. It was strangely fitting against the green background… (Remind of a certain flag?)
Crash!
I did a face-palm and ran back to Italy, who had fallen off his ladder and onto his head. He have a weak "ow…" and got to his feet. I righted the ladder and rolled my eyes.
"I told you to be careful!" I scolded. "Go finish the tree, I'll stay in here."
Italy nodded and bolted off to hang the ornaments. I wondered if this was how my mom felt with me.
"What's all the noise out her-" Romano waked out of his room, his words getting cut off when he noticed his home drowning in festivity.
"Goooood morning!" I greeted happily. Italy bounded in and smiled at his brother.
"What's going on?" Romano asked, crossing his arms and dreading the answer.
"We felt that there was only one option left to get you into the spirit: Force it," I answered. "But we did a nice job, didn't we?"
"If you're referring to ruining the next few days of my life, then yes, you did a wonderful job. Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to bed." He turned to leave, but I grabbed him by the arm.
"You can go wash up and such, but you're not going back to bed!" I told him sweetly. "Go on, now."
I pushed him gently towards the hall. He gave me a bit of a glare, but continued to his room.
"So what're we going to do now?" Italy asked, sitting on the couch, kicking his feet absentmindedly.
"We…" I thought for a moment. "We need to make the Christmas gifts for the other countries. It's all food, so you can help. Japan taught you how to make onigiri, right?"
Italy nodded. "Yeah."
"Good!" I dragged him into the kitchen and put on an apron.
We worked like there was no tomorrow, running like an assembly line. Stir this, beat that, knead this, bake that. But we had a number of meals in front of us within an hour.
"We did good," Italy commented, looking proud of himself.
"True," I agreed. "I'll have Britain come over and deliver these for me, if he doesn't mind. He seems nice enough."
Italy grimaced at the mention of the Ally, but didn't say anything.
"Go get your brother," I ordered. "I swear, he went back to sleep. He never learns."
As Italy went off to get Romano, I realized I sounded exactly like a mom waking her kids up for school. I gave myself a little slap to the face. They weren't my kids, they were my friends. Friends. I shook my head and picked up the phone. I dialed Britain's number (which proved difficult with the old-fashion model) and listened to the rings.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Britain, it's Bella!"
"Oh, Bella. Did you need something?"
"I need you to do me a favor. I would do it myself, but I'm too busy...babysitting."
I heard Britain laugh on the other end. "I get it. I deal with the same things with America. What do you need?"
"I made food for all the countries for Christmas, but I can't deliver it myself. You mind?"
"...Does that include Germany? I still don't forgive him for shooting a bazooka at me."
"I'll give him is in person," I replied. "Come in an hour or two, okay?"
"Right."
We said bye to each other and I hung up. "Italy! Did you get Romano?"
I got Romano cursing at his brother as a response. I rushed over, untying my apron and draping it over a chair. Italy pushed Romano towards me and we glared at each other.
"Hey, I got ready," he shrugged.
"But why'd you go back to bed?" I asked sternly. "I swear, you're no mature than an American toddler. (I ignored the fact that I kinda said something racist about my own country.)
"Don't overreact," Romano snapped. "I-"
"Ahem." Italy cleared his throat, grinned at pointed to the roof. We both looked up angrily to see we under a mistletoe.
"Crud," I groaned. (Although that was no match to the expletive Romano said.) I met his eyes reluctantly. "No."
"No way."
"You know how it goes!" Italy giggled. "Stand under the mistletoe and you need to kiss!"
"I thought I told you not to put one up," I growled.
Italy nodded his head in response. "Well, I did." He looked sickeningly proud of himself.
Still, Romano and I didn't move, just staring at each other. I sighed. "Let's get this over with."
"No!"
"Quick," I reasoned.
"NO!"
"The kid's watching!" I pointed at Italy, who cocked his head. I actually couldn't believe I was going along with this, but I knew Italy would bug us until it happened.
"What part of-"
I pressed my lips to Romano and shut him up. Two things went through my mind: 1) I was kissing him Bad. 2) He wasn't talking anymore. Good.
I quickly parted and sagged my shoulders as Romano gave me a bewildered look.
WHAT DID I JUST DO?!
*Bella and Roma, sittin' in a tree…
Romano: *hits Shadow*
Ow. Can't write. Bye.
k bye. (again)*
