When Romano awoke several hours later, the world outside his bedroom window was pitch black, and it was still raining. The windowpanes were streaked with long streams of water, pouring down in little clear rivers. He could still hear the steady shhhh as the rain fell outside.
Damn, it's really pouring buckets out there, isn't it?
Yawning, he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake himself up a bit. The blanket fell off him, and he felt a warm, slight weight fall from his chest. The sudden soft mewing noises from somewhere near his navel woke him up completely, as he looked down and saw, to his surprise, Amato, trying to snuggle back into his body to keep warm. Uh oh, I must've woken up Amato when I sat up.
Romano wasn't really that good with comforting others, but it was clear that his little friend was cold again, and he didn't want that. Sighing softly for being so mushy, he scooped his tiny companion into his hands and held it up to eye level, saying gruffly, "It's alright, little guy, so no more whining, ok? I'll warm you up." The tiny blob shivered slightly in his hands, before, to Romano's shock, opening its eyes up, revealing a pair of large emerald orbs, staring at him sleepily. A soft purring noise broke the steady pattering of the rain outside.
Damn, that's a nice shade of green. Amato's never opened his eyes before, huh? Well, first time for everything, I guess. Little guy started making noises yesterday, so maybe he'll talk soon too.
Romano felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the thought. Maybe he could teach Amato how to speak some Italian...
Well, if I do that, I can actually talk to someone I like, for once.
The thought, he had to admit, was rather tempting. No more having to bore himself with just the mindless chatter and annoying arguments of the other nations, no more standing to the side and feeling left out while Spain was too busy with his stupid friends, no more being ignored because stupid Feli got so much attention. No more having to deal with his crazy sibling babbling away about all the stuff he did when he hung out with the Potato Bastard and that Japan guy.
No more feeling second best. Not while he had something, someone of his own to be around and actually enjoy being near, without being forgotten in favor of others. Someone he might even be able act nice to.
Even if that someone was a tomato...blob...thing. It still counted as friendship, dammit!
His musings were interrupted by a sudden rumbling noise; Romano realized, after a moment, that it was his stomach. Crap, I must've slept through lunch and snack time, and now it's almost too late for dinner.
Looking down at the tiny creature in his hands, he wondered if his new friend was hungry too. Could he even eat? He had a mouth, after all...
And if so, could he feed Amato tomatoes? He had come from a tomato plant, after all, even if his crazy Nonno had used some kind of weird magic crap to cause Amato to grow out of said plant in the first place.
Would that count as cannibalism, then? Hmm, maybe not, he's not really a tomato, after all. But what if he can't eat solid foods? I could make tomato sauce and try getting him to eat that...
He glanced down at his little companion to find Amato staring at him, big green eyes shining with what Romano realized, with a jolt of surprise, was affection. Affection for him.
Why's he looking at me like that? Nobody ever looks at me like that, except Feliciano and Sp-...
The thought quickly shut itself down before he could ponder it further. No sense in going down that particular mental road, after all. Not right now, anyway.
Serious thoughts could wait until later, perhaps in the next decade or so. For now, the important thing is to get food for himself and Amato.
Cupping his hands together and interlocking his fingers into a basket shape, he carried Amato from the room, heading to the kitchen to see if there was any pasta left.
There wasn't. Dammit, Feli, the next time you come over, tell me if you eat all the damn pasta!
Sighing, he walked over to his refrigerator, placing Amato in the counter nearby so he could open up the door to peer inside to artificially-cooled space to see if there were any leftovers. There was nothing, and the realization made Romano rather annoyed. Dammit, this means I'll have to actually make something. Let's see, what is there...
Shutting the refrigerator door, he looked over to the counter to find Amato shuffling forwards, to his surprise. I didn't know he could move that much yet...
It appeared that his little friend was moving towards something, and as he looked into the direction of Amato's movements, he saw, to his inward amusement, that his little "tomato" was actually headed straight towards the blue-green ceramic bowl of freshly picked real tomatoes he'd gotten from his garden a few days before. However, the bowl was clearly too big for Amato to get into it and actually eat anything inside, and his little friend didn't have any arms and legs to help him climb in, either.
Well, he definitely can't eat those if he can't even get in. Looks like it's tomato sauce for the little guy after all.
He scooped several of the tomatoes from the bowl, taking them to the sink to wash. When that was done, he pondered what kind of sauce would be best: uncooked, barely cooked, or simmered?
Hmm, maybe the uncooked is best for this. The tomatoes are perfect for that kind of sauce this time of year anyway, and it's too damn hot to try and heat anything up. The seasonings quick too... Alright, uncooked it is. But maybe I should peel them first, I don't want him to choke on the skin if it's too big a mouthful.
Nodding to himself in the logic of the decision, Romano took the tomatoes back to the counter and began preparing them, removing the seeds and peeling the skins, before chopping the red fruits up into very small, bite-size chunks, which he scooped up with his hands and dropped into a small, very shallow bowl from the cupboards (he normally used this bowl to hold sauces or dishes of cream for Feliciano's cat). After this was done, he grabbed the olive oil bottle from his kitchen table, pouring a spoonful or two into the sauce, and mixing it in along with a pinch of salt and pepper, and some chopped parsley flakes from his spice rack.
The "meal" thus prepared, he walked over to Amato, who'd stayed by the ceramic bowl, a puzzled look in his green eyes as he stared at the ceramic bowl keeping him from the tasty red things. Gently poking his little friend on the "forehead", he gestured to the bowl of sauce, and the little blob stared at the red mass in the bowl, clearly confused. Romano wasn't very surprised; until yesterday afternoon, Amato had still been living in the tomato garden, soaking up sunshine and water and nutrients from the warm, rich soil. There had been no tomato sauce to eat then.
Deciding to give his companion a hand, he swiped a finger into the red sauce, bringing it up to his lips and licking it clean, before returning to the bowl, bringing the rim up to his mouth, and miming eating the sauce that way. When Amato still gave no sign of understanding, Romano decided it must be because his friend had no hands or fingers to use.
Well, I suppose I could always feed him until he can eat by himself.
This was admittedly a rather embarrassing idea, him feeding someone/something else, but what else could he do? Amato couldn't feed himself yet.
Sighing in half-amused exasperation, he went to a nearby drawer and pulled out a spoon, returning a moment later to dip the spoon into the sauce, filling the shallow silver basin almost to the brim, before bringing it to Amato's mouth, and saying, "Aah..."
Amato apparently understood this way much better, because the spoon was all but gulped down, much to Romano's inward amusement. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a faint grin at seeing his efforts rewarded, especially when Amato started cooing and trying to lick away the tomato sauce at the corners of his mouth. Clearly, the sauce was well appreciated.
"Good boy."
Amato cooed at him, big green eyes full of happiness. Romano wiped the leftover tomato sauce from Amato's mouth before gently pulling the spoon away, and then refilling it with more sauce. The bowl was soon emptied, and bits of sauce ended up on Romano's tank top, but that was okay.
He'd gotten to make his little Amato happy. That was worth far more than any damn top.