Characters/Pairings: America/Romano, Norway, Iceland. Mentions of Italy and others.
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, Romano's mouth.
Summary: For the kink meme prompt: Hurt/comfort, whereby one nation feels lonely/down/depressed and another nation cheers them up. Romano overhears something on the flight home that makes him depressed, and deals with it in a very Romano fashion.
Romano sighed as he leaned back in his seat and waited for his flight to take off. He didn’t particularly mind it when the meetings were in Australia, but getting home was such a hassle. Veneciano had left the day before with Germany, Spain was planning on staying an extra night with France and Prussia, and America was flying in the opposite direction, so he was by himself on this flight, bastards.
He took a sip of his wine as he made himself more comfortable in his first class seat. Airline wine was always crap, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.
“…America’s new lover?” Romano peeked out behind his seat to find that he wasn’t as alone on this flight as he originally thought. Norway and Iceland were apparently taking the Sydney-London flight as well, not that Romano was much better off, as he never talked to either of them anyway. In fact he wouldn’t even have bothered with eavesdropping on them if they hadn’t mentioned him.
“Yeah, I heard he got one,” Iceland was saying, “But I didn’t hear who it was.” Because Romano had requested that, instead of going to his Twitter/Facebook/Myspace and announcing their relationship to the world like America usually did, they kept it on the down low, telling only the nations/people who needed to know and no one else. Naturally, the word got around rather quickly anyway.
“Well, Denmark was talking to Prussia last night and he says that he said that Spain said that America was seeing Romano now,” Norway sighed, “Of course knowing Denmark and Prussia, they were drunk at the time.”
“Romano? South Italy?” Iceland asked in disbelief, “I honestly doubt that. America isn’t the kind of guy to settle for someone so below his league.”
America was settling for him? America was out of his league? He was half of Italy, the nation known throughout the world for having some of the best lovers! Hell, having an Italian lover is equivalent to being in heaven! America was lucky he gave him the chance.
“That’s why I was thinking they probably just got it confused,” he continued, “I’m thinking he actually meant North Italy.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Iceland nodded in agreement, “I can see Italy fitting much better with America than Romano.”
So that’s what they think? That just because America and Veneciano are fucking happy balls of sunshine all the damn time they’d make a perfect lollipops and fucking rainbows couple? Shows how much those Nordic idiots know. If America was with Veneciano who would be there to yell at him for completely misreading the situation or stop the idiot from eating whatever’s in front of him and getting sick?
“I know, I mean, if you were a superpower like America, why would you settle for anything less than the best you can possibly get?”
What? That was…that was…
That was exactly what Romano had been thinking ever since America first asked him out. Hearing someone else say it made it much more real. Why would a superpower like America, who could have just about any nation he wanted, settle for a walking complex like Romano? He was aggressive, rude, and a coward who’s bark was much worse than his bite. America probably really wanted Veneciano as his lover instead, but decided to settle for Romano because he was always all over Germany. Everyone else in Romano’s life always preferred his brother over him, why should America be any different?
Iceland and Norway’s conversation switched topics as the plane took off and Romano snatched another piss poor wine when the flight attendant came by.
It was going to be a long flight back to Europe.
Romano spent most of the London-Rome flight convincing himself that America was a no good cheating bastard who was planning on leaving him at the drop of the hat for his cuter and all around better little brother, who, by the way, was also a no good cheating bastard.
These thoughts filled his mind, making him depressed and sad, which he hid behind pure rage and fury as he sped his Lamborghini through the streets of Rome and up to his house, almost crashing into the plane parked on his front lawn. As Romano got out to investigate what the hell a plane was doing on his lawn, a giant blur tackled him to the ground.
“G-Get off me! Help! Spain!” he shouted as he tried to fight off whoever it was.
“You were supposed to call me when you got to London!” oh, it was just America. Romano stopped struggling and let his (for now, at least) lover bring him into a tight hug, “I was worried! I called England and your brother but neither of them had seen you so I grabbed the first plane I could find and flew here to see if you were okay!”
He called Veneciano? That bastard…they were probably planning on running away together as soon as he left his sight! Romano mercilessly shoved him off and stomped over to his front door.
“Hey wait,” America chased after him, “What’s wrong? What happened? Who should I bomb to make things better?”
“Just shut up and leave me alone!” Romano screamed as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys, “Why don’t you go bother my brother if you’re so fucking in love with him!”
“…Who told you that?”
That was all the conformation he needed; stupid Veneciano for ruining every good thing in his life with his perfection. Romano gave up on finding his keys and leaned his head against the door as he heard that traitorous bastard walk up the steps and stand behind him.
“Does it matter? You…you’re just going to walk out on me like everyone else at some point anyway. Might as well just do it now…” He wasn’t crying damnit. He was still feeling the aftereffects of those onions he chopped three days ago is all, and he held onto that thought as he slowly sunk to his knees.
Suddenly Romano felt a not entirely unwelcome pair of arms around him and a head on his shoulder.
“Sure he’s a nice guy, but I’m not in love with your brother, I’m in love with you,” America said in his ear, “if I wanted to be with your brother, I’d be with him, but I don’t. I want to be with you, and I’m not going to walk out on you,” Romano felt a soft kiss on the back of his neck before he continued, “and I’m not letting you go that easily either.”
“But…but…” he tried and failed to hold back his tears, not that he was crying or anything like that, “he’s just…better. Why settle for me when you can do so much better?”
“Settle?” now that he was actually listening to what America was saying, he sounded confused, “Babe, do you honestly think I’m the kind of guy who would settle for anything? Ever?”
“Then why me damnit?” he pounded his fist against the other’s arm, although it seemed to do nothing, “If you could have anyone in the world, why pick me? I’m useless, annoying South Italy. Nobody wants me…”
“No, that’s wrong. And whoever told you that is an idiot,” America pulled him closer, “You’re amazing and unique and I want you. And if I could pick a lover out of anyone else in the world, it’d still be you babe, always.”
“I-idiot,” the Italian turned in his arms, wrapped his arms around America’s neck, and buried his face in his shoulder, “stop calling me babe.”
“Sorry babe,” he chuckled, clearly not sorry at all, jerk, “So, if we’re done with all that, can you make dinner? I didn’t eat in DC, and I’m starving.”
“Fine,” Romano scoffed as stood up and searched his pockets for his keys again, “but not because you asked. I was going to do cook for myself anyway, but since you’re here, you can eat with me.”
“How thoughtful of you,” America smiled as he stood and dug a hand into his lover’s back pocket, pulling out the house keys and offering them to Romano.
“Bastard,” he probably knew they were in there the whole time and didn’t say anything. As he snatched them away, Romano decided he should reward America for his…key finding efforts and leaned up to sneak a kiss from him, “…ti amo,” he muttered as an afterthought.
Blushing red, because it was hot out, damnit, he quickly turned away towards the door, but not before America was able to sneak in a kiss on the nose and an “I love you too” of his own, which certainly did not make Romano feel all fuzzy and loved.
As he got the door open and let America inside, Romano realized Norway and Iceland had no idea what they were talking about. He and America fit perfectly together, like spaghetti and tomato sauce. Sure they were probably just as messy, but Romano knew he wouldn’t trade what they had for anything, and if the way America was smiling and holding him now meant anything, he wouldn’t either.
Life, Romano mused, was good.
-ti amo - I love you.
-Romano's flight: Sydney-London-Rome
-Iceland and Norway's: Sydney-London-Oslo
-America's: Sydney-Los Angeles-Washington DC-'express' to Rome, and by express, I mean he stole a plane and disobeyed any and all air traffic laws to get there.
In case you were wondering.