Romano had just barely managed to open the side door to get into his kitchen, when the front door came down with a sharp, echoing crash. He swore immediately, ducking behind the doorway to peer out at the people invading his house.
His formerly-immaculate front door was now a mess of broken wood, cleaved into bits. Stepping over the mess and into the house was Spain, a look of grim satisfaction on his face, and a wickedly sharp axe in one hand, dust and wood splinters coating his body. Hungary all but threw herself through the doorway after him, looking as if she was caught between grinning maniacally at Spain's rage, and going out of her mind with worry due to the apparent situation. Germany and Feliciano followed behind, Germany's expression concerned at the lack of discernible movement in the house, Feliciano looking worried as well, calling out, "Ve, Romano, where are you? Are you hiding? We want to talk to you!"
Austria and Prussia stayed in the car, choosing to keep watching from a distance, rather than be potential targets for Romano's inevitable wrath at finding his home invaded by crazy nations. Prussia, judging by the annoyed look on his face, was trying, and failing, to get Austria to agree to place bets on which nation would get their butt kicked first.
Romano didn't respond, instead struggling to figure out how to best clear out his home of the idiots that had come in. Amato hid underneath the handkerchief, peering out from under the fabric edge to whisper questioningly, "Mama, who is it?"
Romano shushed him, whispering back, "Idiots. If they find us, I don't know what will happen. But you need to stay quiet, or they might see you and freak out. I don't want them to take you away..."
Amato blinked, before mumbling in agreement, curling back under the fabric. The people that had come into his mama's house sounded scary, and he didn't know if they were bad or not. All he knew was that his Mama would protect him, that much was sure.
Spain walked into the house, eyes full of fiery wrath, the usual sunny green shade darkened with so much rage so as to seem almost black. He passed his axe from hand to hand, fingers gripping the hilt tight enough to make the metal creak ominously. "Lovi, are you in here? Come on out, we need to talk!"
Germany surveyed the silent, empty house. There was no movement, no sound, save for the tapping caused by the twitching motions of Spain's fingers as he squeezed the axe handle, and the nations' own breathing. "Spain, zhere's no one here. Maybe Romano went out to buy groceries. So calm down and put zhat damn axe of yours away, it's too dangerous to have you swing it around like zhat. Besides, if anyone is actually here, I doubt zhey'll vant to talk if you're holding a deadly weapon. "
Spain glowered at him, but relented, setting the enourmous axe against the hallway wall by the ruined front door, a scowl on his face as he began wandering through the house, calling for Romano. Germany sighed, muttering under his breath about idiot nations, and then picked up the axe and took it back to the car parked outside, locking it in the trunk and giving his brother a warning not to pick the lock (under threat of no beer for a month). Feliciano walked through the halls, whispering timidly for his brother, and wondering fearfully if he was alright.
By this time, Spain had managed to make his way to the kitchen, fingers still twitching madly for an axe that was now out of his reach. "Lovi, are you in here? Come on out, it's just Boss!"
There was no answer; Romano, spotting the approach of Spain, fled his hiding place behind the doorway, Amato still hidden in the basket dangling from his arm, dashing out to seek refuge in his tomato garden. Hopefully, he wouldn't be followed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BACK WITH SPAIN AND THE REST OF THE MANHUNT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Somewhat unfortunately for Romano, Spain was not about to give up so easily. He was determined to find his former "underling" and talk to him, even if he had to break down every door in the house to find him. Although that's probably not such a good idea. Lovi will already be upset with me for breaking his front door into bits...
As he surveyed the kitchen, empty of other people, he began thinking. This wasn't as uncommon as some might think.
Spain wasn't unhappy that Romano was a mother; on the contrary, France had been right, Spain found such a concept quite cute. However, he felt sad that Romano hadn't told him about the child, he would have came over to visit them.
He wondered what the child was like. After all, Feliciano had only told them that Romano had become a parent, not actually about the child. But Romano, he thought, probably wouldn't have more than one. Too much attention would be needed to take care of a child for him to want to take on another one without help, and from the looks of the empty house, there was no other help whatsoever.
An adopted child, maybe? Maybe a toddler, I don't know if Lovi would be able to take care of a baby without getting frustrated and mad a lot, since babies take a lot of work and care... And what would the child even look like? Does he have a daughter, or a son? Does the child look like him? Can they talk yet, walk yet, eat on their own? Has he started trying to teach them things yet?
Spain realized, with a jolt of dismay knotting up his insides, that he wasn't even sure he even wanted to know that much. For all he knew, Romano could have had the child ages ago, and hidden them away. This house was certainly remote enough to do that. And since he didn't ever really have company over, and he didn't like being around most of the other nations very much, it would make sense that even Feliciano wouldn't have known about the child's existence until recently.
How old would this kid even be? Nations live for a long time, after all. This child might have been around for years, and no one noticed.
The sudden urge to smash something with his axe surged through him, and his fingers twitched automatically, trying to grip the handle of a weapon that had been locked safely out of reach. If I ever find that miserable excuse for a father, he's going to taste the blade of my axe. Stupid excuse for a person doesn't deserve to have a kid with someone as good as Lovi.
The house was empty, the windows shut and covered with curtains in order to help keep the rooms cool and dark. There was no noise to be heard, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen, and the creak of the floorboards as the nations walked around, looking futilely for Romano.
Spain leaned back against the living room wall, feeling drained and very confused, anger still surging through him. I need a break. If I don't calm down, I'll probably try to smash something else, and then Lovi will be even angrier.
Searching for something with which to distract himself, he felt a slight squirming sensation in one of his jacket pockets, accompanied by faint rustling from the fabric lining. He grinned slightly upon remembering what was hidden in his jacket pocket.
Reaching in with tan fingers, he gently pulled out the tomato-print handkerchief, letting it fall open in his hands. Sitting in the middle of the little square of fabric was the creature he'd taken with him from the jail.
Spain studied the tiny blob in his hands. The little creature was about the size of an orange, with greyish-white "skin", that little dark brown "hair" curl that looked so much like Romano's curl, and those big golden-brown eyes that stared at Spain as if he was an idiot.
Definitely the right name for him.
"Hello, Little Lovi," he whispered softly. "The car ride wasn't too bad, was it? My pocket was comfy enough?"
The blob glared, eyes shining with childish annoyance as it stuck out its little strawberry-pink tongue and blew a rasberry at him. Spain laughed in response, feeling the anger from earlier drain out of him at the cute sight. He pressed the squishy creature against his cheek, nuzzling the tiny body as he cooed, "You're so cute!"
Little Lovi, as he had been so strangely named, bit his cheek in reply, as if trying to make Spain take back the cuteness comment, but the blob had no real teeth to bite with, and so merely created a soft tickling sensation, the grainy surface of the little body making a faintly scratchy feeling. Spain laughed again. It's like he's trying to give me a little kiss.
There was a sudden squeal, a sound like a flash going off, and a sharp click from behind him, and Spain turned around to see Hungary standing behind the door frame, a camera held in her hands as she giggled happily.
She waved a hand in dismissal as Spain opened his mouth to speak to her. "Oh no, don't mind me. Just carry on like I'm not even here."
Upon catching sight of Hungary, Little Lovi immediately turned around to face away from Spain, pointedly refusing to look either nation in the eye. Spain's face fell slightly at this, and he gave an upset look to Hungary, who gave him an apologetic look in turn and hid the camera in the pockets of her apron. He could hear a grumble of, "Stupid tsunderes and their darn shyness for public affection...".
There came a shout from another part of the house, and both nations rushed out of the living room to find Feliciano in the kitchen, staring into Romano's refrigerator with an expression of utmost horror on his face. Hungary gave him a concerned look, moving across the kitchen to give him a hug as she said gently, "What is it, Feli?"
Feliciano let out a terrible wail of misery. "I CAN'T FIND ANY PASTA, VE!"
Germany, who had been looking through the back of the house when he'd come rushing in to respond to his friend's yelling, sighed, a look of tired resignation on his face, and reached into one of the pockets of his jacket. A small box of dried pasta was held out to Feliciano. "Here, go make your damn pasta and stop vith all zhe yelling."
The camera in Hungary's apron pocket was whipped out and snapping pictures within the space of only a few seconds, as the Italian grabbed his friend in an enthusiastic thank-you hug.