This is the third and final request.
Winner: boredandwaiting
Pairing: Spain x Romano
Title: Unwanted
Probably not as much fluff as you had wanted, but I hope you can still enjoy it! And sorry for the generic title.
The first thing that Spain noticed upon returning to his home was a figure on his veranda. Of course, this was a nightly occurrences (people of all kinds frequently visited) and in no way fazed him. So he made his way to his front door.
"Good evening."
"Evening. Took you long enough to get here, bastard." Spain laughed.
"Come in, Romano." The shadow figure stepped into the light, revealing his familiar scowl. He looked at the house.
"Why are you living in this old hut again?"
"Times are hard," Spain explained, scrutinizing the peeling paint on his house. "I had to cut back on my spending and move back here." When they entered, he hung his coat on the dilapidated rack and loosened his tie. "I expected Prussia or even France tonight, but not you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I—I ran out of tomatoes. Anyway, why are you still hanging around with those idiots?" Romano's stuttering was that of someone making up a hasty excuse.
"They're friends!" Spain said lightheartedly. He walked into the small kitchen, followed by the other nation. "What do you want to eat tonight?"
"I don't care." There was a scraping of chair legs on the floor, then a screech as the legs were pulled back in place. Then—"Got any wine?"
"Of course." Spain retrieved the Cabernet Sauvignon from the pantry and presented it with a flourish. From his place at the kitchen table, Romano raised an eyebrow.
"French wine? Tacky."
"France sent it to me for Christmas." The wine glasses were brought and Romano poured a generous amount of red liquid into each. Spain reassumed his position in front of the stove. "Paella, then."
"What? No steak, no lamb?"
"I don't think I have any of that in the house right now."There was a grumbling from behind that went along the lines of "It figures that you wouldn't." Spain didn't mention that he hadn't had steak or lamb in the house for a while. After all, he didn't want Romano to worry about his failing economic state. He finished making the paella and served it. "So, what brings you here?"
"I can't check up on you from time to time? Without me, you'd be a mess." The Spaniard laughed.
"Isn't that true!" Neither man acknowledged that Romano had not visited in months. "How's your brother?"
"Fine. As oblivious as ever. As clingy as ever."
"To Germany?"
"Who else?" Romano spooned some rice into his mouth and chewed, looking pensive. After a while he stated, "So, I did come here for a reason."
"You said you were running out of tomatoes?"
"No! Well, yes, but I can always run to the fruiter's for that. It was an excuse, idiot. I wanted to ask you something." He put down his spoon.
"What's that?"
"Well—wipe that goddamn smile off you face, this is serious!—well, um… how do I put this…" Romano trailed off. "Okay, um… if you had the choice between a white dog and a black dog—no, never mind. If—if you had to choose either a big house or a small house—no, that doesn't work either. How about… if there were two tomatoes, a perfectly round one and a deformed looking one, and they both tasted the same and were generally the same size, well… which one would you pick?"
"Is this a trick question?"
"Just—just answer it!" Romano churned out, flustered. There seemed to be a knowing sparkle to Spain's eyes.
"Well…I think I would choose the deformed looking one. Perfection is nice, but if it's admired so much then is it so special anymore? That's not to say that it's bad, but… I think imperfect things have more flavor and variety to them. They're more interesting. Don't you agree, tomatito?" Romano understood and growled half heartedly.
"You knew what I was really talking about all along."
"Yes," Spain admitted, reaching over to take the other's hands. "Do you still think that Veneciano is better than you?"
"No, of course not," Romano sniffed. "I just wanted to know your opinion on the topic is all."
"Well, if you were willing to compare yourself to a deformed tomato, then I felt that it was my duty to reassure you."Spain laughed, then winced in pain. "Ow! I'm just kidding, Romano! It wasn't like I had to force myself to reassure you. Hitting me isn't cute at all!"
"Shut up and take it like a man, bastard!" Their little mock scuffle nearly upset the contents on the kitchen table, but it stopped when Spain recaptured Romano's hand and brought it to his lips.
"You are my one and only, Romano," he murmured against it, sending shivers down the other's spine. "By the way, where were you these past few months?'
"I was busy." The reply was rushed and vague.
"With what?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Judging by the way Romano was averting his eyes, something big had been going on.
"Please tell me?"
"No."
Why?"
"It's personal."
"Pleeeease?"
"You're annoying!" Spain finally decided to utilize the voice that he reserved for moments when his former charge was being stubborn.
"Romano. Tell me." But even that did not suffice. Therefore, threats were now necessary. "If you don't tell me, I'll call either France of Prussia over right now. Maybe even both." The tactic was starting to take effect. The other nation's eyes widened.
"You wouldn't."
"Then tell me. Or I… I won't help you at all if they decide to harass you," Spain declared. He added in one of his smiles from his conquistador days for good measure.
"F-Fine! I'll tell you. Just don't smile like that again, it makes you seem almost menacing." Romano sighed and slumped back into his seat. He looked to the side. "I was… considering dissolving." His companion was aghast.
"Why would you even think about something like that?"
"Why not?" the other shot back. "Veneciano is practically the face of Italy now. Nobody cares about me!"
"That isn't true," Spain stated quietly. "I care about you."
"Sorry to break it to you, Spain, but not everybody has that same mentality. Not everybody gives a damn about who South Italy is."
"Do you need everybody to, though?"
"That would be nice, yes," Romano said sarcastically. Then he let out a shaky breath. His eyes were dull and bitter. "Sometimes, when I walk through Veneciano's place, the people don't even know who I am. Do you know what that feels like? Having the citizens of your own country fail to recognize you? That's why I was considering dissolving." He suddenly seemed wistful. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with all of this and I could see Grandpa again. Even if he did like Veneciano more."
"But don't you think it's a little selfish to dissolve? What about the people who do care for you, like your brother and I?" Spain asked gently. Romano appeared to contemplate this. However, he muttered,
"What difference does it make? I've been selfish all my life."
"Don't think like that—"
"I came here tonight to decide," Romano interjected. "If you chose Veneciano over me, then I would definitely have done it."
"But I chose you. So what now?"
"… I don't know." They were both silent. All of a sudden, Spain stood up.
"So it's settled! You won't be dissolving," he said cheerfully.
"What? I didn't say anything yet!"
"Listen, Romano. You've seen me at my best and worst times and I've seen you at yours. If I can find the strength to keep on existing, then shouldn't you?" The other nation paused for a moment. He already knew that the notion was not going to be put into fruition. Perhaps it had never even been a possibility.
"… Tch. As if you're a good role model to look up to," he finally scoffed. The way that he was trying to keep from smiling revealed his ultimate decision. Spain grinned beatifically. He suddenly swept Romano into his arms and dramatically dipped him backwards.
"Now that that's over," he whispered huskily into the other man's ear, "how about if we focus on something else?" Romano slapped at him.
"Pervert! I just poured out my heart to you and all you can think of is getting me into your bed!"
But he didn't seem quite as unwilling when they reached Spain's bedroom.
Thanks to everyone who won/ participated/ reviewed/ read the fic/ all of the above!