[Fanfic] Educating America 11

[coffeefate.livejournal.com]

Title: Educating America
Author: coffeefate
Genre: Humor/Romance(?)
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. 

 

Romano stomps his way down the pavement to where they're parked, internally in turmoil. He's trembling, because he's angry and flustered and confused, but more than anything else he's...scared. This whole situation is starting to worry him.

For all his bluster, the half-nation knows very well that no-one is ever interested in Romano for Romano. For Grandpa Rome's inheritance, maybe. It wasn't like his country had anything else to offer- South Italy had always been weak and poverty-stricken. As far as countries go it's relatively undeveloped. It's prone to volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, and more recently, riddled with mafia activity.

He's well aware he doesn't have any good points, either- he's lazy, and clumsy, and irritable. He isn't talented or friendly like Feliciano, or strong like Grandpa Rome, or cheerful and easygoing like Spain. Everything he tries to do seems to fall apart.

He kicks one of the motorcycle's tires, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Hell, even Grandpa Rome had chosen Feliciano over him. Spain, too, was always trying to trade him for his little brother, or get him to act more like Feliciano (the jerk had even proposed to North Italy. Twice!). And Feliciano preferred the potato-bastard's company over his, even though they were the same damn country!

None of which bothered him at all, really. He didn't need his stupid brother or Spain or any idiot friends. He was just fine on his own, dammit.

So why the hell is America here? As far as Romano could remember, his country had only ever caused troubles for the other nation, not least in the form of organized crime.

So what could America gain from associating with him? The moron was a freaking superpower. He could have anything, be anywhere he wanted. And anything of value South Italy had, the other nation had in spades. What could his small nation conceivably offer?

So why the hell was he here?

The stupid American is wreaking havoc on his emotions, and it's driving Romano nuts. He crouches, staring at his reflection in chrome plating, trying to figure out the other's motivation.

It has to be a crazy whim on America's part. There's no way he could possibly be interested in Romano, is there? He's got to be just...curious, or bored, or something. The taller nation's probably just killing time. Once he's had his fun, he'll move on and forget the half-nation entirely.

Which is why the way Romano's starting to respond to the other's attentions is worrying him. The feelings the American is evoking in him are dangerous. He's making the half-nation feel like he cares, like the Italian's thoughts and opinions are important to him, like...like someone actually wants to be with Romano, for once.

The corner of his mouth still tingles where America touched him. He scrubs the spot with the back of his hand to erase the sensation, and exhales through his nose.

It can't possibly be true, though. America's a friendly guy, he probably treats everyone this way.

He looks up with a sigh, and catches sight of America's present. Reaching up, he takes it down, turning it over in his hands. He traces the icon on the back with his fingertips.

America didn't give everyone gifts like this, as far as he knew. He was pretty sure he'd have heard about it at meetings if so. That bastard England would have said something, for sure. Or Feliciano, who was friends with practically everybody, and usually up on the latest gossip. But he'd given this to him. Had it made for him especially, even. So, that must mean something, right?

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around the helmet, holding it close to his chest. It probably didn't matter, anyway. America would lose whatever interest he had soon enough, and move on to whatever caught his attention next, leaving Romano alone again. Probably forget him entirely.

Which is fine. He's used to being on his own, dammit. He doesn't need the idiot around, messing up his life with his crazy schemes. Who cares if he remembers him or not?

(England might follow his former colony around and pick fights with him all the time to get his attention, but Romano has more pride than that, dammit. Besides, it probably wouldn't work. England and America had way more history together, even if it wasn't necessarily good history. It was still definitely more memorable than a couple of meals and a shopping trip.)

Even if the American keeps saying those...things, and acting like he does, and looking at him in that way that makes part of him hope, in spite of himself.

...Where is that idiot, anyway? He should have been here by now. Though, knowing the blond, he probably got lost on his way out the door. Or distracted by some food laying on the ground.

He'd better go save America from himself. Who knows what kind of trouble he'd get into, otherwise.

As he stood to go and rescue the dimwit, Romano heard voices coming from outside the tailor's shop. Had Nino helped the stupid bastard find the way out? Figures he'd-

OH shit, no- that was definitely not the tailor.

He ducked behind the motorcycle again before he could be seen. Dammit, dammit, dammit- what were they doing here? Why now?

He sat trembling, tears welling up, heart pounding now for an entirely different reason. This wasn't good, not good at all. Dammit, what was he going to do now?

---

AN: Just for the record, Romano's really selling himself short, here. What he says about South Italy is true in some respects, but it's hardly all there is to it. The landscape and architecture is amazing, and it's turned out tons of extremely talented leaders, musicians, craftsmen, poets, scientists, and so on over the centuries. Poor guy just has a bit of an inferiority complex, since North Italy tends to get all the attention.