Title: Educating America
Characters/Pairings: America, Romano. Some background pairings in passing.
Ratings/Warnings: PG13 for language, I guess. Rapid tense change. Awkwardness!
Summary: America wants to get to know Romano better. Romano just wants to fix the idiot's tastebuds.
Notes: Again, I'm not sure how this works yet, so if I screw anything up, just let me know
When the Italian brothers entered the kitchens, they were immediately fawned upon by attentive kitchen staff. After requesting a plastic bag and some towels, Feliciano waved them off, and they obediently went about their business until the brothers might require their services once again.
Still dragging his brother, the younger Italy went to the ice machine, where he scooped crushed ice into the bag, sealing it tight. Wrapping it in a towel, he took his brother's bandaged hand, and applied the makeshift ice pack gently to the injury. Romano mumbled some token protests, but allowed his brother to fuss over him.
"Does it hurt much?" Feliciano asked, as he satisfied himself that his brother's injury was being sufficiently tended to.
"Cheh, as if a little thing like this could hurt me, idiot." Romano scoffed.
"That's good~." the younger brother lifted the ice pack to examine the bandages. He prodded the area gently, making sure it wasn't too cold or not cold enough."Ve~ How did you wrap it so neatly with only one hand?"
"Actually, that bastard America put some stuff on it and bandaged it up. I guess the idiot's not always completely useless." He made a mental note to find out where America had found that salve, and get some for himself and Feliciano. It was pretty effective.
"America did? Where did he learn to wrap injuries like this?"
"His imaginary 'invisible brother', apparently."
"The hell? You mean he's real? That bastard actually does have a little brother?"
"Yeah, Mr. Canada."
Huh. "...Is he really invisible?"
"Mm, not that I know of. I don't think he attends the meetings, but I've seen him sometimes with big brother France or America." he elaborated, unwrapping the pack and adding a little more ice. "He looks a lot like America, but he's not as...energetic. He seems very nice, ve~."
Romano rolled his eyes. As if his brother was a good judge of character. The idiot thought France was 'very nice'.
"So~." Feliciano smiled, reappling the ice pack."You took him to Nino's."
"Cheh. I, I didn't have much choice." Romano defended. "I was going to take him to a regular shop, but" but then the idiot had done something kind of unexpectedly sweet and thoughtful (but still stupid, dammit) and thrown him off, "the bastard's so ridiculously huge it would have taken forever to find anything, and I didn't want to waste any more time on that asshole than I had to."
"Ve~." the younger nodded understandingly."So, what did Nino and Amata think?"
"They seemed to like him, for some reason." Romano reluctantly confessed. "Amata even tried to feed the idiot. But," he added, "They like everybody." (Which wasn't entirely true, he admitted to himself. Though they were friendly to most people, it was rare for the couple to welcome someone as wholeheartedly as they had the blond nation. Especially someone new. Unlike his little brother, they were very good judges of character, and he usually trusted their judgement. But still.)
"Nino gave him his personal card, though." Feliciano observed."He doesn't give those out to everybody."
Romano pursed his lips, still a little sore about not having known about that. "Cheh, I guess. I wasn't around when it happened." He scowled. "I don't know why that stupid bastard suddenly needs more suits, anyway." he muttered sulkily.
The younger Italy looked at his brother's sulky expression and sighed inwardly, wondering how his usually perceptive brother could be so blind about things that concerned himself. "Ve~, well, maybe he wants to make a good impression." he offered.
"Who does that bastard have to impress? He's freaking America, dammit." his frown deepened, and he'd have crossed his arms if his brother wasn't still holding his hand.
Feliciano smiled, and moved in to wrap his free arm around his brother, resting his head on the other's shoulders. "Why don't you just ask him directly, Romano~? I think America would be happy to tell you if you asked."
"As if I care why that idiot does what he does." Romano scoffed (and he wasn't leaning into his brother's embrace, dammit, the idiot was just pulling him off balance, that's all). "That bastard can do whatever he wants. It doesn't concern me." He reluctantly wrapped his free arm around the other's waist, resting his chin on top of Feliciano's head (not because it was comforting, but because he had to keep his balance somehow). "And don't get so touchy-feely with me, idiot." he grumbled, as an afterthought.
"Ve~, just a little bit is fine, Romano." the younger responded, contentedly snuggling closer. Romano didn't often show affection, so he revelled in it when it occurred.
"Just don't get used to it, stupid."
"Mhm~." He shifted to press his face into his brother's neck, enjoying his warmth and closeness while he could. "Hey Romano~, what are we having for dinner?"
"I was thinking cuscus estivo and spaghetti con melanzane for the main course, and fennel and artichoke salad and bruschetta on the side."
"No antipasti?" Feliciano asked, surprised.
"No, there's no point. That bottomless pit would eat it all before it even hit the table. Might as well just dive right into the main course."
"Ah~. What about dessert?"
"Torta di mele ed amaretti."
"Ve~, that sounds so good! I can't wait."
"Of course it's good, idiot. I chose it, didn't I?"
"That's true! Could we get something with potatoes in it for Germany, too?"
"Hell no! That loser can eat what everybody else does, and like it!"
"But brotherrr~" the younger pulled back to give his brother puppy-eyes."Pleeaase? He really likes them! Really!"
"Who cares what that bastard likes, idiot? He can go home and suck on wurst, for all I care! Chigi!"
"Don't say that, Romano~! Germany takes really good care of me! I just want to do something nice for him, too." Feliciano whined, flushed and teary-eyed.
"S-stop whining, dumbass!" Romano ordered, pushing his brother away. "Besides, wasn't he yelling at you earlier? You should just forget about that asshole, stupid little brother."
"That wasn't what it sounded like! It's a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding! It's not Germany's fault!" he protested.
"Oh yeah, stupid? What exactly was going on, then?" the elder demanded, slamming his uninjured hand down on a nearby table.
Feliciano blushed and looked down, shifting and rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly. Romano's eyes narrowed.
"...Forget it, idiot." he growled. "Just get out of here, dammit. Go back to our table."
"Go away, moron! Get the hell out of here!" he yelled, throwing a towel at his brother. "Back to your precious potato-bastard!"
"Don't be mad, Romano! I'm sorry!" Feliciano apologized tearfully. He leaned over to drop the ice pack on the table next to his brother. "Keep that on your hand, okay? I'll wait for you at the table~, brother!" he sniffed, scampering out of the kitchen with a final, "Don't be mad, okay?"
"Shut up! I hate you!" Romano scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. He wasn't crying, dammit. Some dust had gotten into his eyes, or something.
He picked up the ice pack, staring down at it as he gripped it tightly. Why were they always fighting over that worthless potato-bastard? They'd finally been reunited, dammit, and that asshole was always coming between them. He sniffed, swallowing hard. That blond bastard should just leave his brother alone, so they could be together in peace.
Throwing the ice pack down, he leaned on the tabletop, face in his hands. Not crying, dammit, it was just...just...
After a while, he lifted his head, swiping at his eyes. Dammit, he was a mess. His nose was running all over the place, and his eyes stung. He'd better go clean up, or people might get the wrong idea. He wouldn't want the others to think he'd been crying. He was fine, dammit. Sighing deeply, he went to find the restroom and wash up. He'd come back and place their orders afterwards.
AN: I guess Romano has allergies. To stupid little brothers, maybe? Or Germany. :x