Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Took a week or so off from writing (not entirely intentionally, but its been interesting anyway) and glad to be back at it! I realised that now I have about 6 steady WIPs and if I work hard enough to update once a week then it'll still be 6 weeks between updates for each story, which is a bit lousy, I must say. Though I suppose I can't count 'Thaw, because that's my 'writer's block' fic and I don't have writer's block to combat (knock on wood), or 'Misconceptions' because that is my 'updates once in a blue moon because I have unrealistic expectations for it' fic (XD) but that still leaves me with 4. So, um...I don't actually know where I was going with that, if anywhere.
Anyway, here you go!
His cell phone was ringing (again). He ignored it (again), choosing instead to throw an arm over his face and hope that the damn noise would just go away and whoever kept calling would just take a hint and go away so he could continue sleeping.
Finally, the ringing stopped, and peace reigned once more. He was given no time to enjoy the blessed silence, however; because just as he was dozing off again the house phone rang. He groaned, throwing both arms over his face this time in defense against the grating ringing. After six or seven rings the answering machine picked up.
The greeting echoed through the house along with his brother's voice (Veneziano always had the damned thing turned up as loud as it would go, so that on the off-chance that Germany might possibly call he would be able to hear it no matter where he was in the house).
"Hello~~, this is Veneziano and Romano Italy's house! We're not in, or Romano's not answering the phone, so leave a message! If you're a pretty girl, we'll call you right back! If you're Germany—" (here his own voice cut in) "Don't call this house, you macho potato asshole! Leave my brother alone! I'll kill—" (here there was scuffling in the background, and several grunts and curses as a struggle for the machine ensued) "Don't say that, Romano~! Sure, Germany's a little scary, but he's not a bad—" "Don't defend that bastard! He—" "Ve, ve, ve, but Roman—" *Beeeeeeep*
His cell started ringing again just as the beep ended.
"Hey, Romano~! Are you there?" Veneziano's voice came over the machine. "I'm calling you on your cell, too, so pick up, okay? I won't be home today—" (Romano snorted. Figured.) "so I wanted to make sure you're going to watch Forever is Not Long Enough again today! It's going to start in half an hour, so make sure you watch it! Are you there? Are you there? Romano? Romano? Romano? Ro~Ma~No~? RomanoRomanoRomano—"
With a growl, he scooped his cell off the floor. "VENEZIANO."
"Romano, you're there!" Veneziano exclaimed happily on the other end of the line. "You sound like you were sleeping. Were you taking an early siesta?"
"What?" Romano rubbed his face, and looked around a little groggily. Siesta? What time was it? Crap, it was after noon! How long had he— oh right, he'd watched the premiere episode on repeat last night, eight— or was it nine?— times...Amando—
"—mano? Are you listening, ve~?" His brother's voice cut through his drowsy mental wandering.
"Hm? What is it, Veneziano?" He asked, rubbing sandy eyes again. Argh. He needed a drink. Water, lots of water. He peeled himself from the couch and staggered towards the kitchen, kicking aside the clothes that lay on the floor on his way.
"Well, I left you a message about it, but I'm not going to make it back today. Germany and I are going out to eat tonight, at that new restaurant that opened in Berlin, I told you about it last week, do you remember? It serves fusion cuisine? Prussia says it's French-Arabic, or was it Thai-Chinese? Or maybe it was Spanish-French. Well, either way, it sounds exciting! So we're going to go tonight and try it out, and if it's good maybe I can try to make you some when we get back! And if we like it, maybe we can start a restaraunt in Italy, but I don't think that would go over very well, do you? Well, maybe Spanish-French, but if it's something else probably not. It sounds interesting, but not something I would want to eat every day! But maybe it's good. Prussia says it's good, but I don't like beer or wurst very much, and Rollmops aren't very tasty either. And he eats a lot of French fries, too, did you know? He eats them with ketchup and mayonnaise, and I caught Germany eating them a few times too, and I'm starting to worry. Sometimes he mixes the ketchup and the mayonnaise together, and calls it rot-weiß, or at least I think that's what he calls it, ve~. He gets it all over his shirts, and Germany complains because he has to do twice as much laundry now! Prussia said if Germany's going to complain so much then he's going to take over the laundry, 'cause Prussia says he can do it better anyway, 'cause Germany always forgets the softener and Germany says he prefers starch, 'cause it makes the clothes look so nice and crisp and neat, and Prussia says that's fine for shirts but not for underwear, and honestly I agree, because my socks are always very stiff when Germany washes them, and when he makes me wear underwear it chafes, it's very uncomfortable, Romano! So I think he should let Prussia do the laundry. But Austria says when Prussia does the laundry his underwear disappears, but Prussia says that's not his fault, because—"
"Is there a point to this, idiot?" Romano asked finally, lowering his glass. Bleah, he may have drank too much. He felt a little sick now.
"Oh! Well, I wanted to make sure you're going to watch Forever is Not Long Enough again today, because it's going to start in half an hour; or wait, it's twenty minutes now."
"What!" Romano dropped his glass in the sink and scrambled for the living room. "Why didn't you call me earlier, idiot!"
"Ve, ve, ve, I'm sorry, Romano! It's just that I didn't remember we were going to watch it together until a little while ago, and I called you right away as soon as I remembered but you didn't pick up the phone and—"
Romano ended the call, focused on getting ready to see Amando. Shit! There was so much to do! He grabbed his dirty clothes off the floor, tearing down the hall to throw them into the laundry, keenly aware that he was sticky and dirty and badly in need of a shower. Shit, he'd have to be fast. Shit! He needed to clean the couch! Well, it was leather, he could clean it pretty fast. After the shower. No, fuck, before the shower or he'd just get dirty again. He dashed back down the hall to the bathroom, grabbing the supplies he'd need to clean the couch, and ran to the living room, skidding to a stop in front of the soiled article of furniture. He scrubbed quickly, drying it off as soon as it was clean and hastily rubbing it with a little conditioner (leather couches were expensive, okay?) to make sure it didn't dry out. That done, he kicked the cleaning supplies under the couch and dashed back down the hall to the bathroom, hopping in to take the quickest shower of his life. Scrub, rinse, condition, rinse, exit. Shave? No, he was fine. He spent a few precious minutes on his hair, styling it with a special cream he mixed himself, that made it especially sleek and glossy, even in low lighting. Cologne? Did he need cologne? Better safe than sorry. Which one? Amando was an outdoors-y, earthy kind of guy, spent a lot of time in the stables, surrounded by ...leather, wood, hmmm...'Knize Ten', then. That would compliment the rosemary scent of his hair cream, too. Okay. His hair looked good, he smelled good, and he — shit! He was running out of time!
He darted out of the bathroom, and threw out a hand to catch himself on the door. Wait! Clothes! He couldn't watch the show naked! What would Amando think? He had to get dressed! He spun on his heel and tore up the stairs to his room, knowing exactly what he wanted to wear. He had a light saffron shirt in raw silk that would match Amando's hair, and a nice pair of designer jeans in dark blue that would complement the lowlights in his eyes. Nicely casual, didn't look like he was trying too hard. He pulled them from the closet, dropping the hangers in his haste, and struggled into them, pulling the shirt on and hopping across the room to his accessories as he tugged on the pants. Watch! He needed a watch. Gold watch, blue face, brown leather band, that worked. Good. Okay! Shit! Shoes! He launched himself back into the closet, pulling on a suitable pair and and launched back out again, sliding down the banister and skidding into the living room with two minutes to spare. Yes! He was good.
He threw himself on the couch and snatched up the remote, turning the TV on just as his cell began to ring. He grabbed it off the coffeetable with his other hand, snarling, "What."
"...Roma?" Belgium sounded concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Embarrassed, he slapped a hand over his face, guilt welling up. Dammit, he hadn't meant to yell at Belgium. He should have checked the caller ID. "...No, I'm fine. I...I thought you were Veneziano."
"Oh, I see." She laughed. "I was just calling to ask you..." she lowered her voice, "I'll be recording all the episodes of Forever is Not Long Enough, so I was wanted to know if you wanted copies? I can bring them by every Friday for you, would you like that?"
"Y, yes please. That...that would be nice." Romano stuttered in embarrassment, and flushed a little guiltily, for different reasons this time. Not that he had any reason to be guilty or embarrassed, it was perfectly natural. Belgium said so!
"Okay," Belgium said cheerfully, adding kindly (understanding the reason for his stutter from years of experience), "and don't be embarrassed, okay Romano? It's perfectly natural!"
He mumbled something unintelligible in reply, blushing deeper. It was bad enough anyone knew, but if someone had to he was glad it was Belgium. "Y-you didn't tell anyone, did you?" He asked, although he knew she knew how to keep a secret (except when she was tipsy, but that was rare. Belgium could hold her liquor surprisingly well for such a petite woman).
"Nope. And nobody knows I'll be making copies for you, okay? Now I have to go; the show is starting, and everyone will be wondering where I went! I'll see you later this week, Roma~!"
"Ciao, bella." He murmured, setting the phone on the couch beside him as the opening to Forever is Not Long Enough began to play.
"Holy shit." Prussia's eyebrows went up as the introduction ended and the opening sequence began. "They changed the opening already?"
"It seems so." France nodded, watching the new cutscenes being played out on the screen under the theme music. "How unusual."
"I wonder why—" Spain scowled, and he pointed accusingly at the television. "America! He made them change it to add Amando!"
Indeed, it seemed likely. The new opening sequence included several appearances by the newest 'background character', Amando, the horse trainer from the Americas. They found themselves being drawn into the action despite themselves, as Amando fought off a group of bandits, and Catalina danced with the powerful but ruthless Juan de la Barca, her eyes burning with fury; then Amando rescued Catalina from a blazing fire, then Catalina turning, hair flowing in the wind, looking alarmed and surprised, chest heaving; Amando leaping off a high cliff into the oceans, scene after rapid, drama-packed scene.
"Why is his shirt ripped in all these scenes?" Prussia wondered, reaching for the popcorn.
"I'm not complaining." Belgium grinned, eyes sparkling. "Oooh!" She leaned forward in delight when a brief scene of Amando, shirtless as he washed a horse in the courtyard, afternoon sun gleaming on tanned skin and smoothly rippling muscles, accented by rivulets of sudsy water sparkling in the sun.
"You can't find him attractive, Belgium!" Spain objected, scowling afresh. "He's far too young for you!"
"Oooooh." Prussia murmured, the clang of Hungary's frying pan echoing through his memory. He knew a 'frying pan' comment when he heard one. France slapped the back of his friend's head at the same time, pushing Spain down and leaning heavily on his back to smile charmingly at Belgium.
"Ignore this idiot, ma belle. He is simply jealous, I assure you. You are the very picture of youth and beauty, darling Belgium~"
Belgium spared him a distracted smile, not really having been listening anyway, her attention still fixed on the screen. "Oooh!" She exclaimed delightedly, hands flying to her mouth as the next scene lingered on Amando holding a flushed and dishevelled Catalina in a passionate embrace, kissing her neck and caressing her hair and the curve of her breast. France's eyes widened, and so did his smile, and he squirmed in delight.
"What are you so happy about, France?" Prussia looked at him oddly, as Spain struggled out from under France, looking ruffled and sulky.
"I'm so proud! He learned something from me after all!" France wriggled joyously, eyes sparkling, and threw his arms around Spain, kissing his cheek and giggling madly.
"Ooh." Prussia winced in sympathy as Catalina slapped Amando forcefully, sending his head snapping to the side and improving Spain's mood considerably.
"Do it again, do it again!" He crowed, bouncing in his seat as the scene changed again to show Catalina rushing out into the night, carrying a blazing torch as she searched urgently for something, Amando galloping to the rescue of a strange woman on a runaway horse, "Well, he is good with horses." Spain admitted grudgingly, and the scene ended on Catalina in a chapel, radiantly beautiful in a wedding dress as she stared defiantly into the (obscured from the camera) face of her groom, in what was obviously a forced wedding.
"Well, this looks like a fun season." France leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, his entire posture a pleased, anticipatory smirk.
"Doesn't it?" Belgium agreed eagerly, as Spain grumbled a little under his breath, reaching over to swipe France's glass of wine. Prussia leaned back against France's legs to steal Spain's bowl of popcorn, wondering, "Seriously, why is his shirt ripped or off in every clip?"
"Perhaps they're all scenes from the same episode." Belgium offered in explanation.
"That would be one hell of an episode."
"Romanoo~, are you in? I have something for you~!" Belgium sang as she entered Romano and his brother's house (Belgium was always welcome at the Italy's, so she never had to knock— well, neither did anyone else, but Belgium wasn't expected to, unlike the others, who never knocked because they were uncouth bastards who barged into people's houses whenever they pleased without so much as a by-your-leave). She set the bags she carried on the floor and pulled off her jacket, hanging it up before she continued. "I would have called before I came over, but I forgot my phone at Lux's. Can I use yours to call him and ask him to drop it off for me?" She scooped up her bags again, looking around. The house was unusually silent. "Romano? Are you home?" She walked through the halls, glancing quickly into the rooms as she passed. Finding nobody there, she stopped in the kitchen, deposited her bags on the table and pulled an apron from one of the drawers, deciding to make dinner while she was here so that she and Romano could eat together when he returned. Tying the apron around her waist, she went to the window, throwing it open to let in some of the warm, early spring air. The lemon tree blooming in the yard smelled so good— oh! There was Romano! She grinned at the sight of her little Italy working in the garden, dirt smudged on his nose and cheek as he knelt in the earth, uprooting pesky weeds. Silently, she slid the window open and leaned on the sill, enjoying the opportunity to watch him work in peace for a while before he realised she was there and got all flustered and sputtery (which was cute, too, but watching him relaxed and unguarded in his element was a rare treat that she wanted to relish).
There was a warm breeze, too, which carried his voice to her as he argued with the weeds. "I suppose you thought I wouldn't notice you there, bastard," he said, pouncing on a weed hiding behind a young eggplant. "there's no escaping me, haha! There!" Having succeeded wresting the tenacious invader from his soil, he huffed victoriously, throwing it into the wheelbarrow along with the other weeds he'd uprooted. "You can burn with the others, bastard! Ah! What's this?" He dug through the broad leaves of a nearby kale, careful not to damage the vegetable in his search for whatever he thought he'd seen, frowning in concentration. "What's— oh, it's just you." Carefully, he reached in to grab something off the stalk, cupping it in his hand. He withdrew it and lifted it up, opening his hand to purse his lips sternly at the frog that sat in his palm. "I thought you were a caterpillar, idiot. You need to be more careful next time. Have you been eating all the caterpillars and snails and shit, bastard?" The little frog shifted to face him, and ribbited. He nodded, once. "Then you can stay." He set it gently back down on the kale, adding, "But watch out for cats, got it? You won't do any good if you're eaten."
Belgium smiled as South Italy continued tending his garden, talking to the plants and creatures he found there, and energetically pouncing and tackling weeds and the rare pest. Romano was in a very good mood today, she mused. Actually, he'd been in an unusually good mood for a while. For the last month or two, it seemed. Since...her smile grew. Of course! His mood had lightened around the second week of this season of Forever is Not Long Enough, right? About a week or so after he'd confided in her about his deepened attraction to 'Catalina'. Aw, it must be because little Romano was in love! That...that was adorable!
She left the window and her Roma-watching lest her little gleeful bouncing and squeeing, knuckles pressed to her lips in an attempt to...she wasn't sure, hold back the excitement?— catch his attention and disturb his peaceful gardening time. This was wonderful! She giggled, glancing at the bags sitting on the table still. The present she'd gotten him was all the more appropriate, now, too! Yay! She bounced a little more, and took a deep breath to calm herself, going to the pantry to retrieve ingredients for dinner. Romano was growing up! She was so happy! This was like a little milestone in his growing-up process~! She couldn't wait to tell the other girls.
Oh, wait, no, she'd promised Romano not to tell. She pouted a little about that, but sooned cheered. Well, that was okay. It could be their little secret, that was kind of nice, too. She'd have liked to have shared it with the girls, and maybe big brother and Spain and Luxembourg, and France, too, could always be counted on to share her glee about things like this, but Romano trusted her, so she wouldn't say anything. Maybe he would relax a little in time, and then it wouldn't be a secret anymore, but for now she could rejoice in secret and be happy with Romano.
She paused, placing a finger against her lips as she considered. Perch braised in red wine sounded good, and she'd gotten some particularly plump sweet shrimp in the market today, too, intending to have them for dinner with Netherlands; but her brother was perfectly capable of finding his own dinner. She set about preparing everything, turning on the oven and pulling the saucepans from their hooks, and wondered briefly if she should have Romano bring her in anything from the garden. Most of the vegetables weren't ripe yet, but perhaps some of the herbs? She checked her bags and the 'fridge, and found everything she needed there.
Her mind wandered as she worked, the actions almost automatic from long practice. What was it about Catalina that drew Romano to her? She wondered if he could be coaxed into telling her what he liked about his crush— no, love interest. Her smile widened, and she slit the last shrimp with a little flourish. Obviously he was attracted to her, and that was understandable; Catalina was quite pretty, as women went. Vivacious and beautiful and spirited and interesting. Belgium quite liked her, herself. She could even admit to a slight crush, perhaps, but of course now that Romano was emotionally invested she'd quite willingly abandon that. Romano didn't have to worry about competition from her! Besides, she always had Amando. Who knew America had grown to be such a handsome man? She grinned again, squeezing a fresh lemon into the marinade, and made a mental note to bring copies of last season and what she had so far of this season's episodes to the next girls' night out. It was time to get the other girls into the series! She needed more girls to gossip over the story with, not to mention America's surprising development. Pedro had been quite handsome, and Francisco was hot and charming in a cavalier sort of way— until he'd turned out to be a cheating cad, that was; but Amando was much more intriguing, and she really couldn't talk about it with the boys; they got so threatened about things like that. It was silly, really.
Hm, Romano had liked Catalina from the beginning of the series, hadn't he? She wondered if he liked the actress, too, or just the character. She'd looked up the actress, Theresa Álvarez, early in the first season. She seemed to be a sweet, charming young woman, from the interviews and articles she'd found. Playful and levelheaded; not quite the fiery bombshell that was Catalina, but that just went to show how talented she was. A good first love for Romano, she decided.
She uncorked the wine, pouring it liberally over the fish, pursing her lips in thought. Hmm...when was her next meeting with America? Did she have anything scheduled before the next world meeting? She didn't think so, but she'd have to check. Perhaps she could ask him to introduce (herself and Romano) to Miss Álvarez. That might be a nice surprise for Romano! Maybe they could even visit the set! But would America agree? She considered, recalling everything she knew about him. Most likely he would. He'd always been a nice boy, full of energy and enthusiasm. Sweet, but a little naive, too. Oh, but he was a man now, wasn't he? Growing into one, anyway. Just like little Romano. Ahh, they grew up so fast! She smiled nostogically, remembering when they both were chubby-cheeked little babies, not so very long ago at all. Only a couple of centuries, wasn't it? It seemed like only yesterday she was wiping dirt from Romano's face after he'd been playing out in Spain's gardens, and sending him to wash up for dinner. And now he was taking his first steps into adulthood, and becoming a man. It was wonderful!
"I thought you weren't coming back for— B-Belgium?" She looked over her shoulder to see the subject of her thoughts standing in the doorway, looking surprised (and already blushing and flustered). "Wh, wh..."
"Hello, Roma!" She smiled in welcome, lips twitching a little as she wiped her hands on her apron and picked up a towel, crossing the kitchen to wipe dirt from his face. His blush deepened, but he didn't fuss, busy fisting his hands in the hem of his shirt. "You've gotten so tall," she exulted, feeling proud of his growth as she scrubbed the dirt from his nose and cheek and chin now, too, "and so handsome, too! Well, you were always handsome," she winked, although he looked about ready to combust as it was, "but you're even more handsome now somehow. Is it because you're in love, hm?"
"Ch-, buh, wh-, it-," Romano sputtered incoherently, making her giggle.
"Dinner will be ready soon, Romano. Why don't you go and wash up, hm?" She patted his cheek and handed him the towel, gently pushing him out of the kitchen towards the bathroom down the hall. Belgium grinned as she turned back to her dinner preparations. He may be growing up, but he'd always be her adorable little Romano.
He returned a little while later, scrubbed clean and changed for dinner, and she threw a smile at him over her shoulder. "Would set the table, please, Romano? You can set my bags over there." He muttered his compliance, and went to do as she bid, setting her bags by the window and pulling the tableware from cupboards and drawers, setting two places at the table.
"Are you home alone again today, Romano?" Beligum asked, frowning briefly at the settings.
"Yeah," he acknowedged, unperturbed, "Veneziano went back to the potato bastard's this morning."
Belgium watched him out of the corner of her eye, a little surprised at his lack of ...well, complaint. Usually the younger Italy's tendency to spend so much time with Germany brought anger and frustration and distressed Romano, but here he was, setting the silverware out relatively calmly. He was wearing his customary little frown, true, but that was habit more than anything else. His mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely, instead of on his little brother's relationship with his hated 'enemy'. Interesting. Was it because he was thinking of something else, then? Or...someone else? "Did you see today's episode of Forever is Not Long Enough?" She asked nonchalantly, settling the fish in a serving dish. She nodded in satisfaction when he blushed, fiddling with one of the forks.
"Yes," Romano admitted readily, despite his blush. "it was pretty good."
"Wasn't it?" She agreed a little excitedly. "I can't believe the Baron would do something like that! And Juan! Taking advantage of Gaspar's disappearance to try and take over the manor and force Catalina to marry him! It's so cruel! I knew he wasn't very nice, but I didn't think he was so heartless!"
"I know, right?" Romano agreed, indignant, and slammed a glass down on the table with more force than was strictly necessary, "and can you believe that bastard had Amado arrested on that stupid false murder charge? Everyone knows Amando wouldn't do that! I can't believe he got away with it!"
"I know!" Belgium agreed wholeheartedly. "It's a good thing Father Parador helped him escape, don't you think? Do you think he'll be able to make it in time to save Catalina from marrying Juan?"
"Of course he will!" Romano stated emphatically. "I bet he'll run that bastard through with a sword, too, just like he deserves, haha!" He jabbed the butter knife he held as if running said bastard through himself. "And then he'll save Catalina and prove the charges are false and show everyone just what's been going on!"
"I'm sure you're right." Belgium agreed, setting the serving dishes on the table and serving them both, smiling her thanks at Romano when he pulled out her chair for her as she seated herself to eat. "I'm very glad you got over your dislike of Amando, Romano! He can be quite winning once you give him a little time, can't he?"
"..." Romano said, and blushed again, finding his own seat and bowing his head. She bowed her own, folding her hands as they said grace,
"Bless us oh Lord, and the food we are going to have, let it not to lack to anyone anywhere in the world, especially to children. Amen."
"This is really good," Romano complimented after a few bites, "where did you get it?"
"I did some shopping in Cagliari today, and the fish were so lovely I just couldn't resist!" Belgium smiled. "The shrimp are especially sweet and plump, it made my mouth water."
"Mm," He agreed, mouth full.
"There's another world meeting coming up soon," she remarked, watching him curiously, "will you be coming to this one?"
Romano frowned a little, poking at his fish. He had been forced to come to terms with the fact that America actually did play Amando, but he wasn't exactly comfortable with it. He didn't want to see the bastard and be reminded of that fact, and...well, in his memory Amando and America didn't even look alike, and he was a little scared of what might happen if he was wrong, and America was there being America wearing Amando's face. It would just be...weird. He wouldn't know how to deal with it. But if he didn't see America, then it'd never come up. "I don't think so." He confessed eventually.
"I hope you do, Romano," Belgium pouted a little. "It'd be very nice to see you there. You should come to the meetings more often, it'd be good for you!"
"Veneziano goes to enough meetings for both of us." Romano said stubbornly, frown deepening. "You don't need me around when he's there."
"But you and Veneziano aren't the same, Romano," Belgium pointed out, "and you're Italy, too. It's best if you both come." He only grunted noncommitally, unconvinced, and focused on his plate. Belgium watched him for a moment, letting it go for now, but making a note to try again sometime later.
"How about the G-8 meeting, will you be going to that? There's one of those coming up soon, isn't there? France was saying something about it the other day."
Romano wrinkled his nose, and she had her answer. She sighed, pouring them both some wine. "You know, Romano, it's fine if you really don't want to go," she said gently, "but you shouldn't give up before you try, honey. You have a lot to offer, you know."
"Can we talk about something else?" He asked, not meeting her eyes.
"Alright, if you'd like." She relented, smiling kindly, "How about your garden? You said you were going to try some new vegetables this year, didn't you? How are they coming along?"
"Oh," he straightened again, nodding, "the honeydew is coming along pretty good. I have to tie the vines to the trellis again everyday, it grows so fast. It gets so big, too! I might have to give it a bigger spot next year if I like how it turns out. The rhubarb is coming up fast, too; and if the heat doesn't kill it like last time then we should be good. I had to pack ice around it for a couple of days in order to get it started, but now that it's going it seems healthy. I don't know, though," he frowned thoughtfully, "I'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get too hot. I have a lot of new plants used to cooler climates, and so far they're doing pretty good, but it's been pretty cool so far. I think maybe next year I'll plant some of them earlier, mid or late winter, it's closer to the temperatures they're used to."
Belgium nodded and smiled occasionally, making interested noises as he went on. She didn't garden much, herself, outside of flowers occasionally, but she knew enough to ask questions to sound as if she knew more than she did. She liked to listen to Romano and Spain talk about their gardens. They enjoyed it so much, and it was nice to see Romano be confident about something. Did Theresa Álvarez like gardening, she wondered? Did she know anything about it? Catalina didn't seem to, much, although her aunt had often been in the garden tending her flowers before she'd died of consumption, the poor woman. But it was probably hard to develop an interest in gardening when your life was as eventful as Catalina's, so she could understand that. Maybe she could ask America about Miss Álvarez's hobbies, see if perhaps she and Romano shared any common ground.
"...and it's no good as a compost. Too much carbon." he continued, ladeling some more fish onto his plate. "So I'll probably just burn it for ash."
"That sounds like a good idea." She agreed, feeling fairly safe in the assumption that if he said it it probably was, and he wouldn't know her mind had been wandering. "Brother's garden is doing well, too. Well," she amended, "it was, but then the rabbits got in and ate all his chilis and ...herbs." He snorted, and she giggled.
"I bet he was happy about that. Did he eat them?"
"We may have eaten rabbit stew for a few days." She admitted, grinning. "Brother was not very happy at all, but he has plenty of other sources, so that's fine. Mostly I think he was angry because they'd eaten the ones that America's brother had given him, he was very fond of those plants."
"America has a brother?" Romano asked, brows furrowing in surprise. "Since when?"
"Yes, since...always, I think. Don't you remember? Candida." She tilted her head, thinking. "I think that's his name."
"'Candida'?" Romano repeated. "That's an Italian name, but I don't remember a Candida in the 'New World'." He shook his head, wondering rhetorically, "Why did we give the bastards such girly names, anyway?"
"That's a good question, Romano." Belgium grinned teasingly. "Perhaps it was because they're so pretty? Oh, and speaking of pretty," she continued cheerfully, before he could respond, "I picked up a little present for you, too. It's in that bag over there, along with your copies of this week's episodes."
"Oh?" He glanced interestedly at the bags sitting on the counter next to the window. "What is it?"
"You'll see!" She grinned again, standing and picking up their empty plates. "You can open it after dessert. Do you want coffee with your pie?"
"Yes! And extra whipped cream on my piece, okay?"
"Yes, I know." She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Extra cream for an extra-sweet boy!" Extra cream for my fussy little kitty, she added to herself, grinning as his cheeks flamed at her comment. "In fact, you worked so hard today I think you deserve an extra piece, don't you?"
"Th-that's right!" He blustered, flustered by the attention. "I worked really hard!"
"I know you did!" She agreed, putting the dirty plates in the sink to soak and turning to the coffeemaker, tapping her chin with a finger. "I should make the coffee first, shouldn't I? Now, how does this machine work again? You press this button here, and...?"
"Uh," Romano hastily got up and interjected himself between her and the espresso machine, suddenly remembering how badly Belgium's coffee always turned out. "th, that's okay, Begium. I'll make it, okay? You don't have to worry about it."
"Are you sure?" She inquired doubtfully, going up on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder at the machine. "I don't mind doing it."
"I, I want to help." He insisted. "Really."
"Alright then," she agreed cheerfully, turning to go to the 'fridge and retrieve the cream, "you take care of the coffee, and I'll take care of the pie."
"Okay." Romano sighed in relief, pulling out the beans to grind. "Don't forget, extra whipped cream on mine. Don't forget, okay?"
"I won't, Romano, I won't~."
I should probably tell her. Romano mused, feeling guilty as he added the disks Belgium had brought to the collection. He glanced back at the present she had brought him sitting on the coffeetable: a signed, limited-edition poster of Catalina. It was a very nice poster, he had to admit. And he could definitely appreciate the sensual, provocative pose and atmosphere of the piece, the camera work was excellent. Catalina was exquisitely beautiful, and he'd be lying or dead or both if he said he didn't find her attractive.
But...when he looked at the poster... instead of Catalina, he couldn't help but see blue eyes, and blond hair, and golden skin, and a warm, gentle smile...
But he couldn't tell her, because although she would keep the secret she might think he had a crush on America, and that was unthinkable. And he couldn't even buy Amando posters or merchandise, 'cause if anyone saw him and found out he was interested in Amando, they might think he was attracted to America, and then meetings would be even more unbearable than they already were, because nobody would ever let him live it down. And someone would be sure to tell America, because nations gossiped like nosy old women, and then America might think he was attracted to him, and that would be humiliating. And completely wrong.
Why did that bastard have to play Amando? Couldn't they have found someone else, dammit? It wasn't like America and Amando had anything in common. Aside from being from America, but that didn't count. Augh.
At least he had the episodes, though. Sixty-seven of them so far, counting today's episode, all of which featured Amando to some degree. At the beginning of this season he only had a few scenes per episode, but by the end of the second week he had almost as many appearances as Catalina; and now he was an equal character with her in the show, with a complicated storyline of his own, intricately tied in with Catalina's. And he was wildly popular, too. He and Catalina were the hottest couple on television, and the fans wanted more of both of them. There was even word that they were considering extending the episode length from one hour to one-and-a-half hours. And everybody, including himself, was dying to learn more of Amando's mysterious past! Why had he come to Spain? What had happened that made him keep his distance from Catalina whenever they started getting close, despite the fact that he obviously loved her? Why wouldn't he say anything about his life before he'd rescued Catalina on the beach? Why was it such a secret?
Oh, there were hints. Little things, moments where his control slipped, scenes where you thought, just for one moment, that you were finally going to understand. Scenes where you got a tiny hint of what was going on behind his warm smile and charming manner. For instance...this one. Romano pulled a disk out of the collection, one of his favourite episodes, and the first instance in which Amando really let down his guard and let his passion shine through.
He slid the disk into the player, turned on the TV and settled onto the couch, the barest hint of an excited grin crossing his lips. He hadn't been able to rewatch these episodes with Veneziano around, it would have aroused too many questions; but now that his brother was finally gone he was free to watch all the Amando he wanted. All of Amando's best moments, all in one night! Well, maybe not one night, because there were a lot of good Amando moments and he wouldn't be able to fit them all in one night, but he could get in some of his favourite favourite moments, and rewatch some of the episodes that he hadn't memorized yet. He couldn't wait.
"Amando." Romano mouthed the words as they fell from Catalina's trembling lips, her face shining with tears as she turned to look after the retreating Amando, who paused, but didn't turn around, "...Why is it when you say 'sorry'...it sounds like 'goodbye'?"
Amando didn't respond, still and strong in the silence in the stable, and Catalina brushed her hair over her shoulder, taking a step towards him, eyes flickering in concern as she reached out with a hesitant hand. "Amando?"
Amando chuckled softly, and although he didn't turn around, the camera angle changed to show his face, still facing away from Catalina. His charming, easy smile was back in place, but his eyes were shadowed and full of pain which belyed the casual friendliness of his voice, "I've overstayed my welcome, don't you think? It's about time I moved on. Stop imposing on your and your father's hospitality."
"..." Catalina's eyes blazed, and her hands clenched into fists at her side. "Is that it, then?" She spat, furious. "You don't get what you want, and so you're just going to..." she cast around for the words, gesturing sharply, "ride off into the sunset? Just like that?"
"I don't belong here, Catalina." Amando said, infuriatingly gently. "This isn't where I need to be. It's time for me to go. There are things I have to do."
"'Things you have to do?'" Catalina repeated, eyes narrowing. "What about the things you do here? The promises you've made to my father? To me?" She swiped angrily at a tear, her voice shaking with fury and emotion, "You said you loved me. Was that a lie? Does it mean nothing to you?" She lowered her voice, choking out, "Or was it just something you were saying to get me into your bed?"
"No!" Amando denied vehemently, spinning on his heel, his own eyes blazing. He strode forward, gripping her arms tightly, and pulled her close as he said urgently, "No. I love you, I do. I swear it."
"Then why are you leaving?" Catalina cried, angry and confused and hurt as she leaned against his chest.
"Because I have to!"
"Why!" Catalina demanded.
"Because I—" Amando started, urgently, lowly, but then another voice rang out in the darkness.
"Catalina?" Juan's voice called through the night from somewhere in the courtyard. "Are you out here, darling?"
They both stilled, eyes growing wide as they realised what they were doing, what it would look like to an outside observer. Amando glanced towards the door, but Catalina reached up and cupped his face, turning it back to her. "You're not going anywhere." She stated.
"Catalina, you have to go." Amando gently moved her back from him, whispering, " You can't be seen with me like this, you—"
"I don't care." She declared, eyes determined. "I'm not going anywhere until you promise me you're not going anywhere."
"Catalina, be reasonable." Amando tried to reason with her, as Juan's voice called for her again, closer this time. "This isn't—"
"Promise me." Catalina demanded. "Promise me on your love. You won't leave me."
"Catalina..." Amando said, at a loss. She caressed his face, her eyes searching his, and her expression softened.
"Amando," she said softly, even as Juan called out for her once more, "there's something I need to tell you. But not here. Not now. Promise me. Promise me you'll be here?" Her pleading eyes looked into his confused, hesitant ones, and when Juan called out for her, closer than ever now, he gave in, and nodded.
"On your love." She whispered, brushing her thumb across his lips, and he closed his eyes, lips parting under her touch.
"On my love." He promised, and released her, pushing her towards the door. "Now go."
Trusting Amando to keep his promise, Catalina hurried away to meet Juan de la Barca in the courtyard, and the scene faded to commercial; and as he always did, Romano cursed Juan's timing. Amando had been just about to explain why he was there! Maybe. Or it could have been a clue, or perhaps a confession or who-knew-what; but they'd never know now, because Juan was a bastard who interrupted important scenes and imprisoned people on false murder charges. He couldn't wait 'til the asshole got his comeuppance. Amando would teach him what for!
He indulged in some anticipatory gloating as he imagined all the things Amando might do to bring the wrath of God down on the undeserving Juan's head. Next episode, or maybe the episode after, Amando would stop the wedding, expose de la Barca's treachery, and rescue Catalina and her father's property from his evil clutches, haha! He couldn't wait!
AN: So there you go. This chapter brought to you by 'Strip Polka' as sung by the Andrews Sisters, which almost inspired a oneshot of its own but I've resisted so far, ahahahaha!
(Sturm and drang, my author's notes have escaped my recollection! Alas, alack-a-day! Etcetera.)