Muahahahaha! The accidental hiatus is coming to an end (at least, I really hope that it's coming to an end… seriously, I've been going through writer's withdrawal studying for AP exams and crap when I really wanted to be writing -.-) Please forgive me for how long it's been taking to get these updates up; I swear I would've written this sooner if it wasn't for those bloody tests…
Anyways~ I've kind of been obsessed with the Hobbit lately, especially since my parents bought me the movie for Easter and I saw how absolutely amazing Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage are… And, well, this just kind of…. Happened. So, for all of you guys who have been wanting some Spamano family, here it is! Also, I'm so sorry but there are spoilers here for those who haven't read the books, so… you've been warned?
Spamano:
Cielo Romano Carriedo-Vargas: Sicily
Isabella Maria Carriedo-Vargas: Madrid
Margarita Luciana Carriedo-Vargas: Barcelona
Antonio frowned down at the small stack of books that had been shoved unceremoniously into his hands, his emerald eyes flickering warily back to the smug expression on Arthur Kirkland's face.
"Ah… Gracias, amigo (Thank you, friend), for these… Ah…"
"It's called The Hobbit," England interrupted impatiently. "I figured that those children of yours could use some entertainment and Mr. Tolkien's works seemed like a good choice."
"I see…" Spain muttered, his brow still furrowed in confusion as he gingerly lifted one of the books closer to his face.
"What are you doing?" the British nation demanded exasperatedly, his bright green eyes flashing with slight amusement despite his best efforts.
Spain shrugged unapologetically and shot England a quick, half-hearted glare.
"I'm trying to find the catch," he explained flatly.
"The… catch?" England repeated slowly.
"Sí (Yes)," the other nation agreed. "Did you think that I had forgotten our past so easily, amigo? We have been enemies many times in the past."
"Yes, well, unfortunately our children haven't exactly gotten that memo," Arthur snapped. "Look, Spain, I'm not going to pretend that I suddenly want to be your best friend or something, and there are times when I would like nothing more than to sink your armada all over again-." The Briton paused and smirked slightly at the barely-perceptible flinch that Spain gave in response to that particular statement.
"However," he continued. "It seems that both of my children have gotten rather close to your children, and I… I have been alone for too long to wish the same lonely fate on my children. Any friend that they make is a blessing, and I wanted to offer you those books as a token of my gratitude."
Antonio blinked slowly, his mouth falling open into a small "O" of surprise. After a moment, the Spaniard managed to close his mouth and nod in acknowledgement of the Briton's words, his gaze going back to the three slim books in his arms with a little less suspicion than before.
"Thank you, Arthur," he said finally. A small smile flickered across the Spanish nation's features as his eyes travelled over his shoulder to the three children that were currently clutching onto a red-face Lovino as the Italian struggled to leave with his brother. "I think that these books might come in handy with Lovi out of the house for a few days."
Arthur smirked and nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I can't even tell you how many times Doctor Who has saved me from having to deal with Aedan and Alyson whenever their father isn't at home."
Spain's smile widened and he thanked England again, his legs already taking him back to the spluttering Italian that had just called his name. Arthur watched him go, his smirk slowly widening into a wicked grin when he was sure that the Spaniard couldn't see him.
*Spamano*Spamano*Spamano*
"…Che diavolo è questo? (What the hell is this?)"
Antonio shot his thirteen-year-old son a stern look, his gaze sweeping nervously across the identical expressions of confusion on the faces of his nine-year-old daughters as the twins inspected their books.
"Books," Spain explained hesitantly. "Those are books. They were given to me for you by Mr. Kirkland. He said that he thought that you might like them."
"Papa, what is a 'hobbit'?" Isabella asked quietly, her curious expression half-hidden by the long auburn hair that had fallen out of its braid to fall freely across her face.
Spain smiled tenderly and reached out to tuck a few strands of hair behind his daughter's ear, his smile widening when Margarita hastily tugged a few strands of hair out her own braid and glared at him challengingly.
"I don't really know, querida (dear)," he admitted as he moved to tuck the newly-freed strands behind Margarita's ears.
"So, you're making us read a book when you don't even know what's in it?" Barcelona stated flatly.
Spain gave his children a blinding smile and nodded cheerfully.
"That's right~!" he sang happily. "Oh! I need to get some paperwork done this afternoon, vale (Okay)? I'll see you at dinner!"
The three siblings watched as their father practically skipped down the stairs to his study, the silence between them broken only by the dull smack of Cielo's hand meeting his forehead.
"Dio (God), why is that moron our father?" Sicily moaned.
Madrid gave her older brother a tentative smack on the back of his head, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment when the action only caused the Italian to laugh.
"We might as well start reading this," she murmured. "How bad can it be?"
*Spamano*Spamano*Spamano*
Less than three hours later, Antonio pushed himself away from his desk and stretched his arms over his head, his expression twisting as the cramped muscles protested at the sudden movement. The Spaniard slowly pulled himself out of his seat and made his way to the kitchen, his brow furrowing when he failed to hear anything from the three children that he had left upstairs. Spain hesitated and slowly made his way back up to the second floor, his emerald eyes locking immediately on the door that led to Cielo's bedroom.
"Cielito?" Antonio called cautiously as he carefully eased the door open. "Rita? Isabella?"
"What?" three voices snapped irritably before he could fully open the door.
Antonio blinked in shock, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. Cielo glared back at him from his position on the bed, his amber eyes flashing between his father and the book in his hands. Isabella and Margarita were huddled together in the corner, their auburn heads barely visible above the small nest of blankets and pillows that had been built around them, their emerald eyes sweeping frantically across the pages of their books.
"Ah, dinner will be ready in about half an hour," Antonio said slowly.
Three grunts of acknowledgement greeted his statement. Antonio frowned, slightly alarmed by the lack of enthusiasm.
"Do... any of you want to help?" he tried again.
"Papa," Cielo growled irritably. "Not now! Bilbo is trying to escape from Gollum!"
"Ei! (Hey!)" Barcelona snapped. "Spoilers!"
"Well, maybe if you two would fucking read faster we wouldn't be having this problem!"
"Cielo!" Antonio barked, only to be ignored as the twins shot Cielo identical glares.
"We can't help it that you're older than we are!" Isabella objected.
"Fíli and Kíli are younger than everyone else and they have no problem keeping up," Cielo shot back.
"We're not Fíli and Kíli," Margarita snapped. She paused suddenly and exchanged a curious glance with her twin. Isabella cocked her head to the side, her emerald eyes glimmering with a rare flash of mischief.
"Well..." Madrid murmured slowly.
"Maybe a little," Barcelona added. "... Does that make me Fíli?"
"Kíli," Isabella corrected immediately. "I want to be Fíli."
Margarita huffed and shrugged, her lips twitching with a barely-concealed smile.
"Indiferent (Doesn't matter)," she muttered. "Kíli is better, anyways."
"Hold on!" Cielo barked irritably, apparently oblivious to the confused glances that his father was sending between the siblings. "Who the hell am I, then?"
The Spanish twins glanced at each other again, their lips curling into identical wicked smiles.
"Thorin," they declared in unison.
Cielo's eyes narrowed dangerously for a moment as he glanced back down at his book, his expression suddenly thoughtful.
"...I can live with that," he decided finally.
"So," Antonio said slowly, causing the three siblings to shoot him irritable glances once again. "About dinner..."
"Can we bring the books?" Margarita asked eagerly.
*Spamano*Spamano*Spamano*
Over the next few days, Antonio noticed his children's odd behavior with increasing levels of alarm.
He could have lived with having his children reading books at the table and their sudden decision that books were more important than food (although he couldn't help but notice that several tomatoes had mysteriously gone missing from the pantry over the last few days), and the odd level of quiet that settled over the house for hours at a time was actually helping him get more work done when he wasn't worrying that the three usually-loud children had suddenly dropped dead somewhere. And Antonio supposed that he couldn't really complain about his children's sudden insistance that they need to learn how to wield axes and swords; he had been trying to convince Romano that battle training built character, after all...
Of course, there were certain things that the easygoing Spaniard couldn't easily explain away, such as Isabella and Margarita's sudden habit of shadowing Cielo's footsteps wherever he went and Cielo's sudden interest in Lovino's maps of Mount Vesuvius. Granted, it had been entertaining to see the look on Greece's face at the last meeting when Margarita had loudly decided that Achilles should be Bilbo because he 'acted like a hobbit', even if Spain was still sore from the Greek's surprise attack after the meeting. And then there was that alarming moment when Margarita and Isabella had burst into tears yesterday after Spain had informed them that no, they probably wouldn't be able to grow beards.
All things considered, Antonio was surprised that he didn't tackle Lovino the moment the irritable, blessedly normal Italian stomped through the front door grumbling about idiotic brothers and ass-hole prime ministers. As it was, Spain only waited for the Italian to lower his suitcase onto the floor before he pulled the spluttering Romano into his arms and buried his face into the Italian's hair.
"Gracias a Díos (Thank God)," Antonio moaned. "Por favor (Please), Lovi, make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!"
"What the hell is wrong with you, bastard?" Lovino yelped, his amber eyes widening in alarm at the Spaniard's behavior. "Wha- Where are the kids? So help me, if something happened to them-."
A loud, piercing cry of sorrow and dismay echoed down from the stairs, causing the two nations to freeze. Lovino's eyes widened in alarm and he ran up the stairs with a speed that only an Italian could match, Antonio scrambling after him. Spain skidded to a halt when he realized that the muffled sobs and cries were coming from the door to Cielo's bedroom, his heart sinking suddenly as he wondered what England's books had done now.
"Lovi-," he called warily, trying to warn his husband before it was too late.
Lovino burst into the room before Antonio could finish his sentence, only to skid to a sudden halt as he took in the room in front of him, his eyes flickering back towards Antonio with frightened confusion.
"Ma che cazzo? (What the fuck?)" he hissed.
Antonio sighed heavily and made his way to Lovino's side, silently cursing Arthur Kirkland to the deepest depths of hell.
Cielo didn't even glance up at them, his thin arms wrapped tightly around the two girls that were huddled against his sides, their tear-stained faces buried in the folds of his wrinkled t-shirt. One of England's books was lying on the floor in front of the three siblings, its pages already marked with drying tears.
"Cielito?" Antonio called cautiously. "Isabella? Rita? What happened?"
The girls glaned up at him, their green eyes reddened and clouded by tears.
"F-Fíli," Isabella choked.
"And Kíli," Margarita wailed.
"And T-Thorin," Cielo whispered brokenly.
Spain sighed heavily and crouched down until he was level with the three siblings, his arms held open in invitation. Margarita and Isabella ran into his arms without hesitation. After a few moments, Cielo came after them, his arms wrapping tightly around Spain's shoulders as he buried his head in the nation's neck.
"W-Why?" Sicily hissed into the Spaniard's skin.
"Why what, querido?" Spain murmured. Dimly, Antonio realized that Lovino had also knelt to join the huddle, his amber eyes wide and concerned as he ran a comforting hand along Cielo's shoulders.
"Why do people need to die?" Cielo whispered brokenly.
Antonio simply shook his head, his thoughts flying back to all of the men and women that he had outlived in his life, his chest aching with a familiar pang of despair.
"I don't know, querido," he admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."
"B-but, Papa, Isabella sniffled. "We loved them..."
"You don't have to stop," Lovino told her softly. "Death doesn't change what someone meant to you- it only lets you appreciate them more."
Margarita choked slightly and left Antonio's embrace to rush into Lovino's waiting arms.
"Cielo," Barcelona called, her voice muffled by the fabric of Romano's shirt.
"What?" Sicily responded brokenly.
"Don't you dare banish Achilles," she said fiercely. "I like him."
Cielo snorted and reached out to lightly smack Margarita across the top of the head, his shoulders shaking with something that was either a laugh or a sob.
"Fine," he whispered. "But I swear to God if either of you ever die for me, I will murder you."
The twins started to laugh suddenly, causing a small, cautious smile to spread across Cielo's lips. Antonio felt a chuckle rise to his own lips and glanced over to see that Lovino was barely holding back a smile, his amber eyes soft.
Maybe I won't murder Inglaterra just yet...
*Spamano*Spmano*Spamano*
Antonio lingered in the doorway of the living room, his emerald eyes flickering across the small mob of teenagers that were clustered in front of the enormous flatscreen. A small, unsurprised smile rose to his lips when he noticed that Isabella and Margarita had taken their customary places on either side of Cielo, their fingers intertwined on Sicily's lap. The twins had never really resigned from their self-appointed positions as the boy's bodyguards, and Antonio had often caught the twins guarding the hallway that led to Cielo's room whenever the young Italian was having a 'secret' meeting with his Greek boyfriend. Said Greek was currently sprawled on the floor at Cielo's feet, his slim hands moving occasionally to tug at the dark green kerchief that Sicily had tied around his neck shortly before the movie started.
Margarita shifted suddenly and leaned across Cielo to whisper something in Isabella's ear, earning herself a small smack from her brother and a quiet chuckle from her twin. The three siblings stiffened suddenly as the mountains began to move across the screen, small cries of fear breaking through their lips when a handful of...dwarves?... disappeared from view as a giant made of stone slammed into the side of a cliff. Low sighs of relief rose from their place on the couch moments later when those same dwarves reappeared, and Antonio couldn't help but notice that his twins seemed to be clutching each other even tighter than before.
Spain chuckled quietly and finally pulled away from the room, his eyes travelling down to the three worn, slightly tattered books that had been placed on the small lampside table just outside of the living room. Antonio cocked his head to the side and reached out to pick up one of the books, suddenly curious.
Lovino would find him about two days later huddling in a corner, his voice raw with emotion as he cursed England and all of his authors for being so damn cruel and perfect.
Somewhere across the English Channel, England would laugh and turn back to the book in his hands, carefully ignoring America's confused looks even as his children smirked at each other behind him.
Arthur had to remember to tell Tink to send his regards to Mr. Tolkien later.
