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hetalia2010-06-30 11:00 pm
kakkobean.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-06-30 11:00 pm
Entry tags:
[fanfic] When You Least Expect It
Title: When You Least Expect It
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kakkobean
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Romano/Spain
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Fem!Spain--sort of.
Summary: English curses ruin everything!
The soft haze of morning light drifted in through the old windows, and the soft chirping of birds brought a sleepy smile to Spain’s face. He stretched under the covers, and sighed deeply as his muscles readjusted to the new positions of the sheets. The pull of the fabric enchanted him; Spain could imagine the soft rustling to be sweet whispers, honeyed promises of sweet dreams if only he would stay in bed for just a little longer. He chuckled, and dug his nose into the lumpy softness of his pillow and inhaled deeply. Maybe a few more minutes…
Suddenly, Spain felt hot all over.
“Dios—“ His eyes flew wide open, and all hopes of a late morning dissipated in the face of a creeping haze of pain that Spain had all but forgotten. He threw off the covers as the heat in his body rising to uncomfortable levels, and doubled over in agony as he felt a scream ripped away from his throat. He closed his eyes as tight as he could keep them as even sight burned him, and a wave of nausea hit him, which caused him to lose his precarious balance on the bed. The invisible world toppled over, and Spain was vaguely aware of meeting a hard surface before the pain began to abate at last. Spain gasped, and the drastic return to normal body temperature left him feeling chilled. A few minutes passed with labored breaths, and when Spain felt it safe, he opened his eyes.
As he expected, his hands were far slimmer than normal. The curse had struck.
“Ay, dios mio”, Spain mumbled, and then paused to wonder at the unfamiliar tone. It’d been at least a century since last time England’s curse had taken effect, and he’d forgotten how his voice had sounded like this. Spain frowned, and then worked up into a sitting position to take full stock of the damage.
“…Maybe it has been more than one century?” Spain wondered off-handedly as he stared down at himself. Well--herself, to be precise. “I don’t think my boobs were this big last time—“
A loud banging sound interrupted Spain’s musings, and she winced at the piercing pain in her skull; the side-effects of being transformed by magic tended to make Spain’s senses a little on edge for a while after. She sighed, and tried to stand up, only to fail miserably. Her legs were jelly; another temporary side-effect. Oh, but it wouldn’t do to let whoever was banging on her door keep at it—Spain felt a little guilty at just leaving a visitor unattended to. She gnawed on her lower lip, and then grabbed hold of the bed frame for support.
“No English curse is going to stop me from saying hello”, Spain said through gritted teeth, and finally managed to get her legs under her. The banging on her door had kept on, but the piercing pain had gone down in severity—and Spain had faced worse things than a splitting headache in her lifespan. She snatched a t-shirt off from the floor, a bright and happy yellow, and started to pull it over her head as she left to tend to the poorly abused door.
“Who would visit me at this time, anyways…?” Spain wondered idly as she got one arm through a sleeve, and barely avoided tripping down the stairs. Whoever it was, they were very persistent for so early in the morning. Her door was strong, but not that strong.
“Coming!” Spain finally got her arm through the other sleeve, pulled the shirt down over her torso, and then swung the door open—
--and found herself looking up to a very red-in-the-face-from-anger Romano. What an adorable sight to start her morning off with!
“Bastard Spain, what took you so—Spain?!” Romano sputtered, and Spain saw the color drain from his face.
“Romanito!” Spain beamed through her fatigue. “It has been too long—you have grown taller since last I saw you—ohh, you look kind of blurry right now…” Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she thought she heard Romano call out something—her name, perhaps?—before she fell forward as the world went black.
~*~
The second time Spain awoke that day, it was to the smell of brewing coffee. She pinched her eyes closed briefly, and then turned her head on its side before opening them.
She hadn’t expected to see Romano sitting nearby, looking so horribly distraught. It was almost as if worry had completely possessed her former charge, and she could almost see it manifest in his eyes.
“Ay, Romanito, cheer up! Such an expression did not suit your adorable face,” Spain chided softly, and started to get up from the sofa.
Romano was at her side in a second, and she found herself forced back down into lying on the couch with a cool hand pressed gently against her forehead. Spain’s eyes widened with shock, and she looked up to Romano’s face to find it completely unreadable.
“I-Idiot Spain, don’t get up so quickly”, Romano sputtered (Ah, there was her rude little Romanito at last!), “you—you just fainted. I just barely caught you, so you’re lucky you’re not hurt—but what the hell is going on here?”
Spain blinked.
“What do you mean by that?”, Spain wondered aloud, and screwed her eyebrows closer together in confusion.
Romano huffed, and bit down on his lip. Spain could tell that he was angry; Romano was always angry about one thing or another, it was in his nature. But usually, Romano had no reservations about letting all of his anger out, and he made an effort to never make such strange faces as he was making right then. Now, though, Romano was actively trying to keep from blowing up. Spain found his efforts very, very strange.
“I…I mean, all this—“ Romano began, and then sighed—actually sighed--and gave Spain a level look. “How are you a…a girl all of a sudden?”
Spain opened her mouth to say something, and then paused. She frowned, and then her mouth dropped open in shock as understanding finally hit.
“You don’t know about England’s curse!” Spain shouted out, and then smiled wide. “Oh, but of course you don’t know about it—silly me! It happened some time after you and Veneciano started your unification, and you left my house. No wonder you’re acting so strange!” Spain laughed, and took hold of Romano’s hand on her head (which almost seemed like it didn’t want to leave—she had to pull quite hard to get it off. How odd) before sitting up.
“Very well—your boss Spain will explain everything! There was a night when I went out drinking with your older brother France—I call him your older brother, because for me, he is my younger brother—ah, but you knew that, right? Wait, your face tells me otherwise—ah, but that is another story. We were drinking, and then England came out of nowhere, piss drunk. He started calling us mean things, and we got into a fight—and then he said that he was going to curse us to death.
“Well, he tried—but curses, even I know this much about curses—they are very tricky things. Even brujas do not cast them lightly, and most of them are sound of mind enough not to cast them drunk. Well, England is no bruja, and so he slurred his way through some incantation, and there were a lot of strange flashing lights, but nothing else seemed to happen. France and I, we passed it off as a fluke. Unfortunately, something did happen. This.” Spain made a wide sweeping gesture with her arms, and sagged into the couch.
“Not long after it first took effect, of course, France and I had a little revenge by helping England’s America gain his freedom. Of course, that didn’t really help get the curse removed…but it doesn’t really occur regularly enough for it to be inconvenient.”
“When does the curse take effect?”
“When I least expect it.”
Romano furrowed his eyebrows in what Spain could only describe as a disgusted expression.
“I do not pretend to understand English humor—that is just the way it is. In the beginning, the curse took effect far more often, but now…well, I’d forgotten to expect it, and look at me.”
“That England ba—“ Romano suddenly covered his mouth with his hand, and gave Spain an almost apologetic look. Spain raised her brows in confusion.
“…Are you trying to be polite?” Spain asked, smiling with amusement. “You don’t need to be so strange, Romano—England really is a bastard!”
“B-but, you…” Romano fidgeted (awwwwww!), and Spain tilted her head to the side as she watched him seem to fumble over his words. His face was red as a tomato now, again, and Spain was almost about to comment on that (she’d never been able to resist pointing it out to him), when—
“It’s not right to swear in front of a lady.”
Spain’s mouth dropped open.
“…But I’m not a—“
“I know!!” Romano yelled, and stood up from his position by her side. “Damnit, I know it’s your idiotic, bastard self in there, but—but—“ Romano huffed, and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to look cool (so Spain thought—well, it did look kind of cool.)
“But—when you’re…when you’re like this, I don’t—I don’t know how to—“
The coffee maker made a beeping sound.
“Oh, the coffee—I’ll get it”, Spain started to get up, but once more found herself shoved back into the sofa. This time, she was not in the least bit willing to concede.
“Romano, you’re a guest—I can’t just let you get the coffee—“
“You fainted!”
“But I’m better now, see?” Spain placed her hands on her hips and pouted, before she began to climb over the sofa. “Your boss is much stronger than some silly curse, just you wait and see—oof!”
Before she knew it, Spain felt herself pulled back—but not just by a hand, no. In fact, if she was right, she had two arms wrapped around her midsection, and the hard surface behind her was Romano’s chest. Goodness, her favorite henchmen Romanito had been working out!
“Idiot”, Romano mumbled, the sound muffled in Spain’s hair—and Spain realized that the warm weight on her shoulder was his chin—“even when I ask you nicely, you don’t take care of yourself…”
Spain laughed; she couldn’t help herself. But before Romano could jerk back in surprise, she simply held onto his arms around her and gave them a soft squeeze.
“Silly me—I forgot that you are all grown up now”, Spain said with a sigh, and closed her eyes; just to appreciate the foreign feeling of Romano hugging her for once. “I’m so proud of you!”
“W-what the, I’m not—what are you—I—“ Romano began to sputter again, which made Spain only laugh harder. She then took hold of his hands and peeled them free, and turned to face him.
“When you care for the welfare of others, that is a true sign of maturity, Romanito”, Spain said with a smile, and caressed his cheek. “Cherish that, alright? Now, I’m off to get the coffee.” Spain let go at last, and this time was able to climb over her sofa without any restraint.
“But you’re the only one…”
“Hmm?” Spain called back as she turned off the coffee machine. “Did you say something?”
Romano flushed red, and turned his head away. “N-Nothing! I didn’t say anything.”
“If you say so”, Spain shrugged, and brought over two cups filled with coffee. “But, you know, you’re dressed awfully formal today; that watch is Bulgari, no? What’s the occasion?”
“No reason!” Romano snapped, looking horribly embarrassed. “Absolutely no reason! And if there was a reason, it wouldn’t be because of you at all! Because it’s not because I wanted to look nice for you or anything mushy like that!”
“Oh, okay”, Spain smiled, and handed Romano his cup. “I was just asking…”
The next few minutes were spent lazily sipping coffee in the morning sun. Spain would have described the silence companionable, except that Romano spent a good lot of it fidgeting in his chair. As she carefully looked him over, she couldn’t help but notice that Romano really was dressed nicely; it wasn’t just the watch, but his whole suit was fancier than he normally bothered with on his visits. Ay, to be so well off that he could afford to wear such nice things for no reason at all—Romano must have been doing pretty well for himself…
“I should get going.”
Spain raised her eyebrows at how quickly Romano got out of his chair, and marveled at how he didn’t spill his coffee everywhere in his haste. Before she could get up, Romano was already at the door.
“Wait, wait—“ Spain got up, and hurried after him. “Why did you come here today?”
“I—“ Romano bit his lip, and turned his face away. “Today’s not a good day for it.”
“Oh…Okay”, Spain pouted, and felt just a little sad. Stupid curse—she couldn’t even properly address her guest like this! Once this had worn off, she was going to tell off England so bad—
“Ah, wait!” Spain grabbed Romano by the shirt sleeve, and looked up to him expectantly. “You can’t leave without getting a goodbye kiss from your boss! Here, come on”, Spain reached up to bring his forehead to her lips—
--and was incredibly surprised to find herself way off her intended mark.
Romano, her former henchmen, her Romanito—was kissing her. On the lips, in the true fashion of Italian romantics—and it was kind of nice. Very weird, since he had never seemed interested in kissing her before, but very nice all the same. She wrapped her arm around his neck and massaged the hairs at the base of his neck in encouragement, and was rewarded with what sounded like enthusiasm reverberating in Romano’s throat. Just as she felt herself getting light-headed (lack of air, perhaps?), all too suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulders shove her back.
“Shit”, Romano spat, and he really looked far too adorable right then for Spain to complain. “This—I can’t do this right now. Not now, when—“ And Spain recognized that look; Romano was very close to tears. He let go, and dashed out the door—
“Romano?”
“I’ll come back and do this right”, Romano shouted back, keys already in the ignition of his car (had he left the door open when he parked? That was a very silly thing to do in this neighborhood), and looked out the window. “You better be normal when I get back, you hear? Idiot!”.
“Wha—Romano!” Spain called out, but in vain; Romano’s Ducatti was out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. She felt drained, all of a sudden, and slumped against the door frame until she sank all the way down to the floor.
“Hijo de puta”, Spain cursed with a frown. “Now I really will have to kill England.”
--notes:
Italian Unification--the period designated as the Unification of Italy began in the year 1815 and kept on through until 1871, though some protectorates weren't officially a part of Italy until WWI.
"he's my younger brother"--that's just my personal head canon, folks, nothing to see here.
"when you least expect it"--yes, I know that the Monty Python sketch with the Spanish Inquisition didn't exist way back in 1815, but I figure that England probably had weird ideas regarding the Spanish Inquisition even before the invention of television. He was probably saving that line until Monty Python showed up.
Hijo de puta--that's Spanish for "son of a bitch".
Author/Artist:
kakkobeanCharacter(s) or Pairing(s): Romano/Spain
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Fem!Spain--sort of.
Summary: English curses ruin everything!
The soft haze of morning light drifted in through the old windows, and the soft chirping of birds brought a sleepy smile to Spain’s face. He stretched under the covers, and sighed deeply as his muscles readjusted to the new positions of the sheets. The pull of the fabric enchanted him; Spain could imagine the soft rustling to be sweet whispers, honeyed promises of sweet dreams if only he would stay in bed for just a little longer. He chuckled, and dug his nose into the lumpy softness of his pillow and inhaled deeply. Maybe a few more minutes…
Suddenly, Spain felt hot all over.
“Dios—“ His eyes flew wide open, and all hopes of a late morning dissipated in the face of a creeping haze of pain that Spain had all but forgotten. He threw off the covers as the heat in his body rising to uncomfortable levels, and doubled over in agony as he felt a scream ripped away from his throat. He closed his eyes as tight as he could keep them as even sight burned him, and a wave of nausea hit him, which caused him to lose his precarious balance on the bed. The invisible world toppled over, and Spain was vaguely aware of meeting a hard surface before the pain began to abate at last. Spain gasped, and the drastic return to normal body temperature left him feeling chilled. A few minutes passed with labored breaths, and when Spain felt it safe, he opened his eyes.
As he expected, his hands were far slimmer than normal. The curse had struck.
“Ay, dios mio”, Spain mumbled, and then paused to wonder at the unfamiliar tone. It’d been at least a century since last time England’s curse had taken effect, and he’d forgotten how his voice had sounded like this. Spain frowned, and then worked up into a sitting position to take full stock of the damage.
“…Maybe it has been more than one century?” Spain wondered off-handedly as he stared down at himself. Well--herself, to be precise. “I don’t think my boobs were this big last time—“
A loud banging sound interrupted Spain’s musings, and she winced at the piercing pain in her skull; the side-effects of being transformed by magic tended to make Spain’s senses a little on edge for a while after. She sighed, and tried to stand up, only to fail miserably. Her legs were jelly; another temporary side-effect. Oh, but it wouldn’t do to let whoever was banging on her door keep at it—Spain felt a little guilty at just leaving a visitor unattended to. She gnawed on her lower lip, and then grabbed hold of the bed frame for support.
“No English curse is going to stop me from saying hello”, Spain said through gritted teeth, and finally managed to get her legs under her. The banging on her door had kept on, but the piercing pain had gone down in severity—and Spain had faced worse things than a splitting headache in her lifespan. She snatched a t-shirt off from the floor, a bright and happy yellow, and started to pull it over her head as she left to tend to the poorly abused door.
“Who would visit me at this time, anyways…?” Spain wondered idly as she got one arm through a sleeve, and barely avoided tripping down the stairs. Whoever it was, they were very persistent for so early in the morning. Her door was strong, but not that strong.
“Coming!” Spain finally got her arm through the other sleeve, pulled the shirt down over her torso, and then swung the door open—
--and found herself looking up to a very red-in-the-face-from-anger Romano. What an adorable sight to start her morning off with!
“Bastard Spain, what took you so—Spain?!” Romano sputtered, and Spain saw the color drain from his face.
“Romanito!” Spain beamed through her fatigue. “It has been too long—you have grown taller since last I saw you—ohh, you look kind of blurry right now…” Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she thought she heard Romano call out something—her name, perhaps?—before she fell forward as the world went black.
~*~
The second time Spain awoke that day, it was to the smell of brewing coffee. She pinched her eyes closed briefly, and then turned her head on its side before opening them.
She hadn’t expected to see Romano sitting nearby, looking so horribly distraught. It was almost as if worry had completely possessed her former charge, and she could almost see it manifest in his eyes.
“Ay, Romanito, cheer up! Such an expression did not suit your adorable face,” Spain chided softly, and started to get up from the sofa.
Romano was at her side in a second, and she found herself forced back down into lying on the couch with a cool hand pressed gently against her forehead. Spain’s eyes widened with shock, and she looked up to Romano’s face to find it completely unreadable.
“I-Idiot Spain, don’t get up so quickly”, Romano sputtered (Ah, there was her rude little Romanito at last!), “you—you just fainted. I just barely caught you, so you’re lucky you’re not hurt—but what the hell is going on here?”
Spain blinked.
“What do you mean by that?”, Spain wondered aloud, and screwed her eyebrows closer together in confusion.
Romano huffed, and bit down on his lip. Spain could tell that he was angry; Romano was always angry about one thing or another, it was in his nature. But usually, Romano had no reservations about letting all of his anger out, and he made an effort to never make such strange faces as he was making right then. Now, though, Romano was actively trying to keep from blowing up. Spain found his efforts very, very strange.
“I…I mean, all this—“ Romano began, and then sighed—actually sighed--and gave Spain a level look. “How are you a…a girl all of a sudden?”
Spain opened her mouth to say something, and then paused. She frowned, and then her mouth dropped open in shock as understanding finally hit.
“You don’t know about England’s curse!” Spain shouted out, and then smiled wide. “Oh, but of course you don’t know about it—silly me! It happened some time after you and Veneciano started your unification, and you left my house. No wonder you’re acting so strange!” Spain laughed, and took hold of Romano’s hand on her head (which almost seemed like it didn’t want to leave—she had to pull quite hard to get it off. How odd) before sitting up.
“Very well—your boss Spain will explain everything! There was a night when I went out drinking with your older brother France—I call him your older brother, because for me, he is my younger brother—ah, but you knew that, right? Wait, your face tells me otherwise—ah, but that is another story. We were drinking, and then England came out of nowhere, piss drunk. He started calling us mean things, and we got into a fight—and then he said that he was going to curse us to death.
“Well, he tried—but curses, even I know this much about curses—they are very tricky things. Even brujas do not cast them lightly, and most of them are sound of mind enough not to cast them drunk. Well, England is no bruja, and so he slurred his way through some incantation, and there were a lot of strange flashing lights, but nothing else seemed to happen. France and I, we passed it off as a fluke. Unfortunately, something did happen. This.” Spain made a wide sweeping gesture with her arms, and sagged into the couch.
“Not long after it first took effect, of course, France and I had a little revenge by helping England’s America gain his freedom. Of course, that didn’t really help get the curse removed…but it doesn’t really occur regularly enough for it to be inconvenient.”
“When does the curse take effect?”
“When I least expect it.”
Romano furrowed his eyebrows in what Spain could only describe as a disgusted expression.
“I do not pretend to understand English humor—that is just the way it is. In the beginning, the curse took effect far more often, but now…well, I’d forgotten to expect it, and look at me.”
“That England ba—“ Romano suddenly covered his mouth with his hand, and gave Spain an almost apologetic look. Spain raised her brows in confusion.
“…Are you trying to be polite?” Spain asked, smiling with amusement. “You don’t need to be so strange, Romano—England really is a bastard!”
“B-but, you…” Romano fidgeted (awwwwww!), and Spain tilted her head to the side as she watched him seem to fumble over his words. His face was red as a tomato now, again, and Spain was almost about to comment on that (she’d never been able to resist pointing it out to him), when—
“It’s not right to swear in front of a lady.”
Spain’s mouth dropped open.
“…But I’m not a—“
“I know!!” Romano yelled, and stood up from his position by her side. “Damnit, I know it’s your idiotic, bastard self in there, but—but—“ Romano huffed, and ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to look cool (so Spain thought—well, it did look kind of cool.)
“But—when you’re…when you’re like this, I don’t—I don’t know how to—“
The coffee maker made a beeping sound.
“Oh, the coffee—I’ll get it”, Spain started to get up, but once more found herself shoved back into the sofa. This time, she was not in the least bit willing to concede.
“Romano, you’re a guest—I can’t just let you get the coffee—“
“You fainted!”
“But I’m better now, see?” Spain placed her hands on her hips and pouted, before she began to climb over the sofa. “Your boss is much stronger than some silly curse, just you wait and see—oof!”
Before she knew it, Spain felt herself pulled back—but not just by a hand, no. In fact, if she was right, she had two arms wrapped around her midsection, and the hard surface behind her was Romano’s chest. Goodness, her favorite henchmen Romanito had been working out!
“Idiot”, Romano mumbled, the sound muffled in Spain’s hair—and Spain realized that the warm weight on her shoulder was his chin—“even when I ask you nicely, you don’t take care of yourself…”
Spain laughed; she couldn’t help herself. But before Romano could jerk back in surprise, she simply held onto his arms around her and gave them a soft squeeze.
“Silly me—I forgot that you are all grown up now”, Spain said with a sigh, and closed her eyes; just to appreciate the foreign feeling of Romano hugging her for once. “I’m so proud of you!”
“W-what the, I’m not—what are you—I—“ Romano began to sputter again, which made Spain only laugh harder. She then took hold of his hands and peeled them free, and turned to face him.
“When you care for the welfare of others, that is a true sign of maturity, Romanito”, Spain said with a smile, and caressed his cheek. “Cherish that, alright? Now, I’m off to get the coffee.” Spain let go at last, and this time was able to climb over her sofa without any restraint.
“But you’re the only one…”
“Hmm?” Spain called back as she turned off the coffee machine. “Did you say something?”
Romano flushed red, and turned his head away. “N-Nothing! I didn’t say anything.”
“If you say so”, Spain shrugged, and brought over two cups filled with coffee. “But, you know, you’re dressed awfully formal today; that watch is Bulgari, no? What’s the occasion?”
“No reason!” Romano snapped, looking horribly embarrassed. “Absolutely no reason! And if there was a reason, it wouldn’t be because of you at all! Because it’s not because I wanted to look nice for you or anything mushy like that!”
“Oh, okay”, Spain smiled, and handed Romano his cup. “I was just asking…”
The next few minutes were spent lazily sipping coffee in the morning sun. Spain would have described the silence companionable, except that Romano spent a good lot of it fidgeting in his chair. As she carefully looked him over, she couldn’t help but notice that Romano really was dressed nicely; it wasn’t just the watch, but his whole suit was fancier than he normally bothered with on his visits. Ay, to be so well off that he could afford to wear such nice things for no reason at all—Romano must have been doing pretty well for himself…
“I should get going.”
Spain raised her eyebrows at how quickly Romano got out of his chair, and marveled at how he didn’t spill his coffee everywhere in his haste. Before she could get up, Romano was already at the door.
“Wait, wait—“ Spain got up, and hurried after him. “Why did you come here today?”
“I—“ Romano bit his lip, and turned his face away. “Today’s not a good day for it.”
“Oh…Okay”, Spain pouted, and felt just a little sad. Stupid curse—she couldn’t even properly address her guest like this! Once this had worn off, she was going to tell off England so bad—
“Ah, wait!” Spain grabbed Romano by the shirt sleeve, and looked up to him expectantly. “You can’t leave without getting a goodbye kiss from your boss! Here, come on”, Spain reached up to bring his forehead to her lips—
--and was incredibly surprised to find herself way off her intended mark.
Romano, her former henchmen, her Romanito—was kissing her. On the lips, in the true fashion of Italian romantics—and it was kind of nice. Very weird, since he had never seemed interested in kissing her before, but very nice all the same. She wrapped her arm around his neck and massaged the hairs at the base of his neck in encouragement, and was rewarded with what sounded like enthusiasm reverberating in Romano’s throat. Just as she felt herself getting light-headed (lack of air, perhaps?), all too suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulders shove her back.
“Shit”, Romano spat, and he really looked far too adorable right then for Spain to complain. “This—I can’t do this right now. Not now, when—“ And Spain recognized that look; Romano was very close to tears. He let go, and dashed out the door—
“Romano?”
“I’ll come back and do this right”, Romano shouted back, keys already in the ignition of his car (had he left the door open when he parked? That was a very silly thing to do in this neighborhood), and looked out the window. “You better be normal when I get back, you hear? Idiot!”.
“Wha—Romano!” Spain called out, but in vain; Romano’s Ducatti was out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. She felt drained, all of a sudden, and slumped against the door frame until she sank all the way down to the floor.
“Hijo de puta”, Spain cursed with a frown. “Now I really will have to kill England.”
--notes:
Italian Unification--the period designated as the Unification of Italy began in the year 1815 and kept on through until 1871, though some protectorates weren't officially a part of Italy until WWI.
"he's my younger brother"--that's just my personal head canon, folks, nothing to see here.
"when you least expect it"--yes, I know that the Monty Python sketch with the Spanish Inquisition didn't exist way back in 1815, but I figure that England probably had weird ideas regarding the Spanish Inquisition even before the invention of television. He was probably saving that line until Monty Python showed up.
Hijo de puta--that's Spanish for "son of a bitch".
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thanks for reading!
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I also think that you should do a sequel for when Romano comes back (if you feel like it). I enjoyed reading this too much for it to be over.
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I have plans >.>