It was afternoon, and Romano was sitting in a tavern, waiting for America to show up. He was drinking something that he was pretty sure had some alcohol, but of course, he couldn't fucking taste anything, dammit. He wasn't about to trust the water in this world any time soon, though...

On the table in front of him was the dull and dim Golden Crystal. It looked like a carnation blossom in crystal form.

"Hey Romano! I'm here!" America called out, finally entering the tavern. Took the bastard long enough. He grabbed a drink for himself and took the seat opposite of Romano at the table. "Time to compare info! Let's see… An old lady told me that her husband proposed to her in front of that Crystal like fifty years ago! Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh. Yes. Very sweet," Romano replied, and his sarcasm could almost be considered tangible. "Did you find any useful information, moron?"

"Hm… Nope!" And then America punctuated that annoying statement with an annoying slurp of Unknown Drink.

Romano huffed and leaned back in his seat. "Well, that fucking figures. From what I heard, our best bet would be to ask a priestess of the shrine."

"Oh yeah? And where could we find her?"

"That's the thing!" Romano sat up and waved his hands for emphasis. "This shitty city hasn't had a priestess for decades! Even before all this Crystal bullshit went down!"

"Huh. That sucks."

"Yes, America, that sucks. The fuck are we supposed to do now? Look through the library? The whole fucking library? Because God knows that no one works there anymore!"

"Well… why don't we just go on ahead to the next Crystal? Maybe there'll be a priestess there who can help!"

"Are you fucking serious? That—! Wait." Romano paused and blinked up at America. "That suggestion was actually reasonable."

"Of course! Why do you sound so surprised, man?"

"The fuck kind of question is that? Do you even remember the bullshit you spout at the meetings?"

"Oh yeah! Yeah, haha. Those are great!" When he saw Romano's scowl deepen, America continued, "Come on, do you think anyone besides Germany takes those meetings seriously? I'm pretty sure you don't, either."

"...Fair point."

"There you go! Now come on, let's see where the next Crystal is."

Begrudgingly, Romano pulled out the map; he frowned after giving it a good look. "...The next closest one is fucking far."

"Oh yeah?"

"Looks like it'll take several weeks..."

"Whew! Damn. Guess we better get ready for the trip, huh?" Romano simply groaned in agony. "It shouldn't be too hard, with that magic infinity bag of yours! Why don't you pick up food and supplies we can take along on the journey? I'll see if we can't take some horses with us to help!"

"Horses...?" Romano hadn't thought about that.

"Yeah, man! I bet they've got some stables around here. I'm really good with horses, you know?"

Romano snorted, fighting down the blush that was creeping up his neck. "Yeah, bastard, I know." It's not like Romano helped make a bunch of westerns back in the day. Or generally obsessed over America's cowboys at all. Or fantasized about America himself being a cowboy after that one rodeo the Italian brothers were invited to...

No, of course not. That'd be fucking stupid, dammit!

"...Yo, you okay? Mission control to Romano?" America snapped his fingers in front of Romano's face a few times.

"Shit what—the fuck do chaps have to do with this?!"

"Chaps? Uh... nothing?" America had a confused look on his face, and Romano wasn't going to mentally describe it as cute any time soon, but... fine, fuck it. His face was cute.

"...Exactly! They have nothing to do with what we were talking about or even thinking about just now. I was just, you know... testing you! Good job passing, you... you... deep-fried, burger shoveling, uh... assface."

"Hahaha! Whatever you say, man."

"Hey there. How about a treat? A nice and tasty treat?" America cooed, holding up some colorless treat to a colorless horse. Romano rolled his eyes as the horse barely took notice of America. After a moment, it simply snorted and turned to pay attention to... fuck if Romano knew. Probably a piece of hay or something.

"Good job, America. We're still stuck here without any horses," Romano said. It was the next day, and they were hoping to leave by now... but America was still stuck on getting any of the horses to work with him.

"Hey, it's not my fault, man! The horses here are all just as bored as the people..." America stepped out of the horse's stall and shut the gate behind him. "What about you? Did you get food and stuff?"

"Of course I did!" Romano patted the bag slung over his shoulder.

"Sweet! Lemme have a look!" Without waiting for a reply, America approached Romano and opened the bag; he dug around inside for a few moments before he finally found some food and withdrew it.

When America saw what he grabbed, he frowned. "Dude. This is flour."

"For making pizza, dumbass!"

"Uh… you know, we can't exactly make pizza out in the woods…"

"Says you! Tasteless bastard."

America tilted his head to the side, seeming to consider what Romano said. And then he replied, "...you know it's not gonna taste like anything anyway, right? None of the food has flavor."

"...Shit. I forgot! Fuck."

America slipped the flour back in the bag and gave Romano a little pat on the shoulder. "I know your cooking is supposed to be amazing and all… but not much we can do now, right?"

"Shut up."

"Anyway, we just need to grab something that'll keep while we're out there!" America spared another glance at the listless horses. "Especially because I think we're gonna have to walk after all."

America took the lead then in getting supplies for the trip—food, drink, bedrolls, anything he thought they needed. At the very least, Romano could appreciate that the shopkeepers were currently too apathetic to care whether their stores got raided—though of course, America would politely ask every time whether it was okay to take things.

For all of the proper supplies that America picked up, however… nothing could prepare Romano for the actual trip. For the toll that he would take from being in this lifeless world for even a few weeks.

The first week was awful for Romano. It was just... camping. And eating nothing but tasteless food, in a colorless world with no weather.

By the second week, Romano was starting to feel fatigued, just in general all the time. Even though they stopped at a town with actual soft beds for a night, Romano could only feel his spirits drop. Despite their efforts and asking around, the pair was still no closer to reactivating the Crystal, and just… what if they could never figure it out? What if this world was too far gone to even help them anymore? And the food was really getting to Romano at this point… it was so tasteless that it was unsatisfying, and lately he'd just been feeling constantly hungry and empty on the inside.

Romano started losing track of the days sometime during week three. By this point, America had well learned that Romano wasn't feeling conversational, so he had been surprisingly quiet most of the time. Annoyingly cheerful, but at the very least, quiet.

At first, Romano welcomed the silence. Soon enough, however, he was starting to grow desperate for some conversation—even if it was annoying—just to take his mind off of everything else. So he tried to strike up some discussion or something, but despite his best efforts (as lame as his best was in this state), the silence just dragged on and on. Dammit.

The only thing Romano could do consistently, besides walking and more walking, was think about his home world. In fact, as the days wore on, he kept thinking about it, even when he didn't want to.

Shit, he could just picture Veneziano weeping in the arms of that damn potato muncher. His stupid brother was too attached to Germany. Romano could imagine them going out for some stupid German dessert now, and it would taste so damn nice that Veneziano would give a stupid airheaded smile. (even though his brother had disappeared.)

How long would it take his brother to move on, anyway? They spent so much time apart, and their reunion wasn't exactly anything special… Veneziano was probably closer to Germany and Japan than he was to his own brother, dammit. Not like it really mattered that much—Veneziano was also a fucking moron who cried every time someone tried to get him to be halfway useful, so in a way, maybe being separated would be better. At least then Romano couldn't make the idiot cry every damn day.

So maybe Romano wasn't so close to his brother, and okay, fine, he could come to terms with that. But he missed Spain, his closest… relative? The fuck would he call Spain, in relation to him, anyway?

God, he was so desperate now, he could actually (internally) admit to missing Spain. It was nice to have someone look out for him and take care of him and actually care to keep in touch.

Although they had been more distant in recent times. Romano supposed that Spain was glad to have him out of the house, no longer messing up the study, making guests feel uncomfortable, and forcing the guy to lose sleep.

Shit, did he ever thank Spain for taking care of him? God he felt like an ingrate. Maybe Spain wasn't always around the house, and maybe he tried a few times to trade Romano for his brother… but fucking shit, could he really blame him? Romano was a shitty kid, and even as an adult, he was an asshole who couldn't give proper thanks to the guy who took care of him for some centuries. Hell, he couldn't even go five minutes in Spain's presence without cursing out the poor guy… and Romano couldn't even remember very well what Spain did that was so annoying in the first place...

Romano blinked out of his miserable thoughts one night when the light of the fire suddenly went out, thanks to America. Bedtime, already. At least, when Romano slept, he couldn't be hungry or depressed. As Romano settled into his bedroll, he tried to give a quick gauge of the time that they spent here by now. Was it still week four, or did they already move into week five? Maybe it was already week six, even… but it couldn't be later than that, right?

"Sweet dreams, dude!" America called out, cheery as ever, and Romano instinctively snapped his head to the side to face the other nation. Fuck, America hasn't shown a single sign of worry or weariness this whole time. Didn't he care about how their world was faring without him? ...Did he think about England at all? Romano couldn't really tell what was up with their relationship… though to be fair, he never cared in the first place. Did America have any other relatives worried about him? Hmm… Maybe? Now Romano was just drawing a blank.

It wasn't long before the thoughts of Veneziano and Spain moving on without him continued their infinite replay. Though... he supposed he shouldn't be selfish. If he could never make it back, then it'd be for the better if they just forgot about him...

The nights here were so damn dark and dead quiet. By now, the makeup of the forest had changed slightly from when they started; the trees were more thin and winding, with sparser canopies. Some moonlight could actually filter in, and every night before he fell asleep, Romano could see stars through the leaves.

Back on Earth, darkness and silence would dominate over life and color in the middle of the night. It was during times like these that this world felt just a tiny bit familiar… familiar enough for Romano to drift off into a fitful sleep...

He didn't know how he got here, but now Romano was swimming in the middle of the water, actually blue and beautiful. He couldn't tell how deep he was, but somehow… he didn't care. He had no trouble breathing.

Suddenly, there was America, approaching him shirtless, and… with a fish tail? Oh, damn, was he a merman now?

"Hey, Romano, it's great at the bottom of the sea, isn't it?" America said. God, America's stupid blue eyes… they were even more captivating than the ocean.

After a moment, Romano pried his eyes away and glanced up. "We're all the way at the bottom?" He still couldn't tell how far they were.

"Sure are! It's easy if you come prepared." America held his hands out to either side of Romano's face, and suddenly the Italian realized he had some kind of round… casing, or something, around his head.

He couldn't tell what it was made of. He reached up to touch it as America withdrew his hands, but before he could really think about it, America spoke up again: "Hey, Romano, you ever wonder how humans and merfolk do each other in all those legends?"

"...Well fuck, you read my mind, bastard."

"Then I'll show you!" America swam to him and wrapped his tail around Romano's legs, and held his shoulders from behind. "But first I gotta tell you something! Merfolk are super good at lying. So instead of sex, I'm just gonna go ahead and eat your arms now, all right?"

There was a searing pain in his arm, and Romano bolted upright, reflexively shouting curses.

He looked around. He was back in the damn forest now, middle of the night, and his arm had gotten stuck in some gnarled roots. Fuck, shit, ow.

"Dude, you all right?"

Romano screeched at the familiar voice and felt his heart pick up when he turned and barely saw America's face, lit up in the dim moonlight.

"Hey, calm down!" America reached out, and Romano flinched instinctively.

Until he realized that America was not, in fact, some crazy fucking merman bent on eating his arms. Romano let out a deep breath and finally relaxed. "I'm fine now, bastard."

"Had a nightmare?"

"...Yeah. But whatever, it doesn't matter. Go back to sleep, dumbass." Romano lied back down, rubbing his injured arm. Luckily, it didn't seem to be hurt too badly, and already the pain was wearing off.

The noise of America rustling back into his covers sounded, and for a moment, it seemed like there would be peaceful silence again. But of course… America had to go and ruin it. "You been sleeping okay?"

"Tch. What do you care?"

"Of course I care! You're my sidekick, you can't be tired!"

"I can and I will. Just watch me, bastard." Romano pointedly pulled up his covers and rolled to face away from America. Even though he knew America wouldn't be able to see the gesture in this darkness. It's the thought that counts, dammit!

"Aw, come on, don't be that way. Do you want to sleep with me?"

Romano shot back into a sitting position and glared at the other nation. "What!? The fuck are you getting at!?"

"Hm? I thought maybe it'd help. I, I mean… well, you know… when I was little, and I had a bad dream, I'd, uh... well, I'd go and sleep with England for the night." America said the last part rather quickly.

"... Oh."

"Yeah! Yup! Geeze, haha… you didn't think I meant the other thing, did you?"

"Shut up! It—it doesn't matter, anyway! I'm sleeping on my own, thank you very much! Don't need to get flattened by a fat monster like you during the night."

And then there was silence, and that was that. As Romano settled back into his covers, he could feel his heart sink. Okay, maybe it'd be weird for him to just cuddle with the burger bastard all of a sudden... But shit, he did miss his friends, and general human contact...

Romano didn't know how long the silence dragged on for, and he could've sworn that the other nation was asleep by now… but finally, America spoke up again. "Romano. I get that we weren't exactly friends before all this happened... and I get that you're not exactly my biggest fan, but... well... right now, we only have each other. We'll have to rely on one another to get out of here, you know?"

Romano tightened his grip on the blanket and felt his chest clench and throat dry. What was he supposed to say to that?

"... Romano? You there?"

"Y-yeah. I'm here." Romano rolled over and faced the vague blob of a shadow that he knew was America. "You. Um. ...If… if sleeping next to me is going to make you feel better, then just say so, bastard."

"Ah, right! Haha. I'll keep that in mind for next time, then."

With that, Romano moved his bedroll over and settled back in. He could feel America roll up next to him, even though they were separated by their blankets. At this moment, they probably looked like... like two burritos cuddling up next to each other.

...Shit, Romano, what the fuck kind of comparison was that?

Behind him, Romano heard America hum in pleasure, and then could feel his breath just brush behind his ear. Romano would not admit that it made him feel warm.

"Man, it'd been a while since I could interact with someone who actually has a body temperature. I forgot how nice it felt!"

"Don't get any funny ideas, bastard."

"Haha! I wasn't thinking of it like that. I think you're the one who's got all the funny ideas, Romano."

"Shut up!"

"Hey man, don't worry about it. It just feels nice now, right?"

"...Maybe. I dunno."

America let out a quiet laugh, and Romano could feel the vibrations from it through his blanket. "Come on, you must've shared your bed when you were little, right? At least, when you were scared?"

Romano scoffed. He really didn't want to answer that. But... he could tell that America was reluctant when he himself volunteered that information. And it was true that they'd need to rely on each other, so they'd have to build trust and that sort of shit. "Hm... Yeah, I did do that, bastard. Spain was always there and let me into his bed when I had a nightmare. And before that was Grandpa Rome..."

Remembering the love he got from Spain and Rome was nice for Romano. In the peace and quiet of the night, laying next to America, the nostalgia truly struck him. The way they'd hold up the blanket and smile at him, and it was always so cozy, even when it was cold outside. Spain would stroke his hair and promise to play with him, out in the sun, the next day. Grandpa would tell him how everything was okay and he'd always be there to take care of his grandson...

It was... nice, to think about. Pleasant. Romano didn't think he felt this nice ever since he arrived in this world.

Next to him, America relaxed and let out a breath, which again ruffled Romano's hair. "That sounds really nice. I didn't get to spend a lot of time with England in the end... but, well… the memories aren't all bad, you know?"

It... It made Romano happy to hear that. He knew America had a short childhood and a rough parting from his mentor... so it was good to know that the time wasn't completely bad.

Romano felt so warm on the inside.

And now that he thought about it, he was warm on the outside as well. But it wasn't coming from America...

Simultaneously, the two of them perked up and glanced at the source of the warmth: it was coming from Romano's bag, which currently gave off a yellow glow.

They sat up and Romano pulled the bag over, fishing for the source of the light and warmth. He withdrew the Golden Crystal, which was now brilliantly shining, a golden yellow color, and feeling extremely pleasant to the touch.

"Look at that! It's back!" America said, leaning in for a closer look. "It's nice."

"... Yeah. I wonder why..." Was it because they felt happy just now?

"Hm. Well. Who cares! What matters is that we finally got it working again!" America pulled the Crystal out of Romano's hands and tucked it in the covers, between them. "Also, this is going to make sleeping awesome."

At first Romano was at a loss for words, but then... well, shit, the bedroll did feel fucking heavenly now. "You might have a good point."

"'Course I do!" America flopped back into bed and pulled up the covers. "Damn this is great. Good night, Romano!"

Romano's breath hitched, and even though it was the middle of the night, he felt like he was bathing in rays of sunshine. Slowly, he lowered himself back to bed. His throat felt tight again, and he couldn't make himself say anything, even though he wanted to.

For the first time since arriving here, Romano felt truly blissful, and he could drift off to a pleasing and fulfilling sleep.

...Good night to you too, America.

Author's Notes:

Translation/Culture/whatever notes:

Romano sticking with alcohol in the beginning: Not sure how commonly known this is, but the bacteria that contaminates fresh water and causes diarrhea and dysentery and all that fun stuff, can't thrive in alcohols. Back in the day, before on-demand, clean water was a thing, people would mainly drink some type of alcohol.

Romano and his westerns: I heard it was a thing some few decades ago that western movies were really popular in Italy, and that that country made a hell of a shit lot of westerns themselves! Yeah, I'm not so savvy on film knowledge. XD Still though, I will totally take this little bit of information to mean that Romano has totally 100% got a thing for cowboys and watching America do rodeos and like… cowboy stuff! That headcannon can't be tamed, man.

Extra Notes:

Nothing particularly unique I can think of this time. But as always, I can't thank you lovely readers enough for sticking with my little story so far! Each of you is an awesome person, and I hope you all enjoy the chapters to come! Until next time~!