hetalia | [Fanfic] Educating America 12

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

Keep in mind I had a fever when I wrote this... XD

Eventually we're going to get to the restaurant. America has to be starving by now. Aside from that biscotti, who knows when the last time he ate was?

This is unmitigated cheese, and I admit it. (/shame) I shouldn't post it yet, since I am too frickin' tired to edit it properly, but hey.

A lot of perspective shifting here. Try to keep up!

Adonis ('Donny' to his friends and...associates), local mafioso underboss, was not having a good day. Things had not been going well lately. Profits were down, a recent string of high-profile arrests was causing unrest in the ranks, and anti-mafia sentiment was on the rise. He'd spent a harrowing day being yelled at by the Boss, who informed him in no uncertain terms to deal with both the police and lack of profits, or...well, the consequences of failure were never pretty. He'd just felt lucky to get out of there all parts intact.

And to top it all off, on the way to the restaurant for a nice evening with his girl, his car had gotten a flat tire. Which is why he was here, accompanied by his lackey Dio (he'd left his other goon to help the driver change the tire), killing time, looking to work off some steam.

But when that blond American stepped out of Nino's, he could tell that his fortunes were about to change. Lady Luck was smiling on him at last. Here was a prime patsy if he'd ever seen one. That somewhat flashy, expensive suit promised ripe pickings (though he had to admit, for such an obviously oblivious American, he had very good taste), and that clueless face was just begging for someone to come along and relieve him of his excess cash. Another rich American on holiday, most likely. Welp, Donny was always willing to make a tourist's life a little more interesting. Give 'em a taste of the culture, as it were. An educational experience.

Normally, Donny would leave this sort of thing to his goons, enjoying the show from a distance. Today, however, he waved Dio to stand back, welcoming the chance to vent his frustrations. A little action would do him wonders.

He was going to pluck this pigeon himself.

America had gotten all of two steps out of the door before a voice called out. "Hey there, Flash!" Curious to see who was shouting in the streets, he looked around to see a slick-looking Italian man saunter up from apparently nowhere, hands in his pockets. A much larger man stood a little ways off, watching them both.

"You look a little lost there, pal. You lookin' for somethin'? Perhaps my friend Dio here and myself can be of some assistance." Donny greeted with a little wave, and flashed a winning smile at the blond.

"It's nice of you to offer, but that's OK." the American responded with his habitual sunny smile. "I'm actually here with my friend Romano. He's waiting for me..." he looked around, noting that person in question appeared to be absent, "uh, well, he was supposed to be waiting for me right over there, actually. Huh. I wonder where he went."

"Romano? As in Lovino Vargas?" Donny couldn't believe his luck. This day just kept getting better and better. The elder Vargas had become increasingly difficult to handle, and the Boss had been trying to find a way to get him back under control. This bozo right here could be the leverage they'd been looking for. Whomever he was, he was rich, foreign, and if the older Vargas thought he was worth his time, he must be someone important. Change of plans- this mook was coming home with him.

"Yep!" replied the blond, turning back to the Italian. "You know him?"

"Oh yeah, yeah! Vargas is a good friend of mine. The best. You know, I bet I even know where he went," Donny grinned congenially, attempting to sling his arm around the tall American's shoulders, and settling for placing a guiding hand on his lower back. "You come with me, Flash, I'll take you to him. Donny will take good care of you."

"Well..." The blond said doubtfully. "I don't know. I should probably wait here in case he comes back." He glanced back at the motorcycle again.

"Trust me." replied Donny. "You want to find Vargas, you're going to want to come with me."

"Well, if you're sure you know where he is." America gave in with an amiable smile. "Thanks for the help."

"Anything for a friend." Donny winked, gesturing expansively, leading the idiot American along. This was just too easy. "C'mon Dio, let's show our new buddy here where Vargas is." He called over his shoulder. A heavy thud was his only answer, and he turned around. "..Dio?"

After his initial panic, it occurred to Romano that- wait, this was America, the guy who could carry around a damn car with one hand for over an hour without breaking a sweat. The one who, according to the brow-bastard, juggled full-grown wild bulls around as a baby. The ridiculously powerful idiot with the hero complex. So what was he worrying about? He should just sit back and enjoy the show. Watch that evil bastard Donny and his thug get what they deserved, for once.

With a vindictive chuckle, he turned around, peering through a gap in the motorcycle's machinery to watch. Oho, he gloated inwardly, this was going to be good. Those scum-suckers had no idea what they were up against.

As he watched, though, his glee faded. Why was America being so friendly with that bastard? What was with that idiotic smile? Didn't America know what that guy was? No, dammit, that idiot probably couldn't tell mafia from muffins, outside of movies. That's alright, he assured himself. Donny and his goon would try to threaten or attack the other nation soon enough, and then America would figure it out.

Wait, what if he pulled a gun on America? The moron might be stupidly strong, but he could still be shot.

...Crap, why wasn't that idiot doing anything? Hadn't anyone ever told him not to talk to strangers, dammit? Did he want to get kidnaped? Romano ground his teeth in frustration and worry.

And then Donny, that filthy, no-good, rotten loser, started touching America. Had his damn hands all over America's shoulders, pawing at his back. Was that asshole flirting with the oblivious bastard? What. The. Hell.

Underneath his friendly smile, America was not a happy camper. He wasn't an idiot- he knew mafia when he saw them. And even if he hadn't, this guy's smile just screamed 'trouble'. The obvious goon lurking in the background did nothing to alleviate that impression.

When a quick glance 'round revealed that Romano was not to be seen, his displeasure increased. And with every word coming out of Donny's mouth, he grew angrier. By the time the mafioso made to lead him away, America was pissed.

For his own sake, this guy had better not know where Romano was. He was pretty sure it was just a ploy (most likely Romano was hiding somewhere nearby), but when another quick check showed that Romano's helmet was missing, too, he had to admit that it was a possibility, however unlikely.

Well, America wasn't the hero for nothing. He itched to take care of business right here and now, but they were standing outside Nino's and he didn't want to cause trouble for the couple. Besides, he couldn't risk Romano's safety, on the off-chance this guy wasn't lying. So he'd keep playing innocent, and let this sleazeball drag him back to his buddies, and they could all have a little...talk. If these guys did have Romano, well, he'd have to show them why that was such a very, very bad idea.

Either way, these were the guys who put that haunted, guilty look on Romano's face back in the diner. And America had some things to explain to anyone who made Romano unhappy. A little lecture detailing why that was not a wise course of action; complete with bullet points and a hands-on demonstration, to make sure there was no confusion on the matter.

If Romano was hiding nearby like he suspected, then he'd probably be upset that America had left, but he'd find a way to make it up to him. He'd just have to get this over with quickly, and give the half-nation a call when he was finished. He was pretty confident he could finish this before dinnertime. Maybe Romano would even be impressed with his heroism- he might even thank him! Okay, he had to admit that it wasn't very likely, but a hero didn't do it for thanks, anyway.

And then Donny stopped and turned around, and America followed suit to see what the holdup was.

Both males gaped at the sight before them. Romano stood, flushed and furious, helmet in hand, over a prone and comatose Dio. The small Italian raised a shaking hand to point at Donny. "Y-you get away from him, you worthless bastard!" he snarled.

Donny stared for a moment, then smirked. "No, I don't think so." he said, reaching into his jacket. "You see, the Boss feels you've been kind of uppity lately. Not rememberin' your place in the order of things." he pulled out a gun, and pointed it in America's face.

"Whoa, hey there." America said, leaning back slightly, blinking cross-eyed at the barrel.

"Y'see, I was hopin' Flash here was someone important to you, somethin' we could use as leverage to get you back under control," Donny explained conversationally. "and I see that I guessed right. So this is what is gonna happen;" he continued, grin widening, "you're gonna stand there and do nothin', and I'm gonna take this idi-" his 'explanation' was unceremoniously cut short when Romano darted forward, slamming his helmet over the gun, and his fist into Donny's face.

Donny dropped like a rock, crumpling to the ground, gun falling from limp fingers. Romano kicked it away, stepping over the mafioso's prone body to grab America by the wrist.

"C'mon, idiot, we gotta get out of here before they wake up." he ordered, hauling the taller nation towards the waiting motorcycle. America let himself be dragged, staring at the Italian in awe. That had been the coolest thing he'd ever seen, and he said so.

"That was the coolest thing I've ever seen." he breathed.

"Talk later, run now." Romano ordered, grabbing the American's helmet and jacket off the motorcycle and shoving them at him. "Unless you want to find out how bulletproof this helmet actually is."

"Haha, alright." America agreed, donning his helmet and pulling on his gloves. "That was a Baretta 92F S Italy, though, and your helmet can withstand a 9mm easy, so don't worry."

"...Why am I not surprised you recognized the gun." Romano muttered, slipping the worry-free helmet down over his head. Somehow, it made him feel alot safer all of a sudden.

"I have the American version, of course! Plus, he sorta shoved it right in my face." America answered, ignoring both the rhetorical nature of the statement, as well as the fact that he hadn't been meant to hear it. "Hey, c'mere." he leaned over, and to Romano's surprise, draped his bomber jacket around the Italian's shoulders.

"W-what the hell are you doing, bastard?"

"You're the hero, so you wear the hero's jacket!" America explained, as he adjusted the jacket around the smaller nation, zipping it closed.

"I can't wear this! It's too big! I'll fall off the 'bike!" he protested, slipping his arms into the sleeves. The jacket practically engulfed him, falling halfway down his thighs.

"Psshht, I won't let you fall. I'm the hero!" the other argued, starting up the motorcycle.

Romano slid behind him, bunching up the too-long sleeves so he could reach around the American's torso. "What the hell does that have to do with anything, bastard? Besides, I thought I was the hero, remember?"

"Of course! So you won't let yourself fall, either!"

"...That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." They fell silent as they took off, one focused on driving and the other lost in his own thoughts. America's jacket was warm and unexpectedly soft, and smelled like leather and machine oil and America (a surprisingly comforting combination). The hero, huh? He exhaled shakily, sinking deeper into the jacket with a deep blush, and leaned into America's back. So this...whatever this was... probably wouldn't last, and America would probably move on and forget him pretty soon; but for right now, Romano decided to take what he could get for however long it lasted.

Besides, if today had proven anything, it was that the idiot couldn't be left to his own devices. Obviously somebody had to keep the moron out of trouble, and it looked like Romano was the best candidate for the job.

(When Donny woke several hours later, it was to a massive headache, a missing gun, and a message on his cell from his girl, dumping him for standing her up. Guess Lady Luck wasn't smiling on him, after all.)

AN: This chapter brought to you by Hetalia strips 'Boy Who Can Do It If He Tries', 'Boss Spain Doesn't Understand', the first half of 'In Just Two Minutes You Can Grasp the Exterior of the European Economy'; and the recent bust/arrest of over 300 high-ranking mafioso in South Italy. I figured that last was cause for celebration. Go Romano, Go!

(And I wanted an excuse to put Romano in America's bomber. A-freakin'-dorable.)

[Fanfic] Educating America 12

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