lemonsandmelonsandpearsohmy:

Romano walked flat footed down the hallway, enjoying the way his sticky feet made a quiet smack on the tile. He was in a good mood. He had managed to snatch one of the worker’s baskets of tomatoes and eat at least a dozen tomatoes under the cool shade of the tree in the hot field. Now he was padding down the hallway, heading to the kicten for someone to wash off the sticky juice.

Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, he was surprised to find the open room lacking the presence of the soft-faced kitchen maid. He furrowed his brows and bit the inside of his cheek, slightly upset by this. He liked that lady. She always was gentle and gave him sweets and never yelled at him. Not even when he ruined the delicate cake she had been making for someone’s wedding by adding starch instead of flour. Instead, the only one in the kitchen was Spain, who sat with his back to the doorway.

Romano walked into the room, treading heavily for attention. Gaining no attention, he ran his knuckles against the wooden cupboards, making a knocking noise as he marched to the opposite end of the table. Glaring, he pressed the bridge of his nose into the edge of the table so only his eyes and up were visible. He watched as the man twisted red paper into the shape of a rose. Spain had a whole basket of them sitting on the table and didn’t seem to have any intentions of stopping his work anytime soon.

Romano watched Spain’s fingers curiously, waiting to be found. Glancing up, he saw how exhausted Spain was but ignored it, fed up with waiting. He pushed the table with an angry grunt. Spain snapped his head up, startled by the violent jerk of the table. His eyes searched frantically for the caused, relaxing when they landed upon Romano’s curl. He smiled softly and ran his fingers through his hair, rolling his shoulders.

“Hey there, bud. What’re you doin’ here?” Spain asked, putting down the finished flower and giving his full attention to Romano. This pleased the small child and he lifted a red-stained hand to spread wide on the table.

“What are you doing making those stupid flowers?” he demanded to know before his eyes lit up and he stood up a bit straighter. “Are you having a rose party?” He loved the parties the Spaniard hosted. The whole house was lit up with bright, magical lights and decorations that somehow managed to reach to the high ceilings in the large dance halls he somehow had room for in this huge house of his. Romano loved the way everyone went all out to dress in the brightest and most expensive colours possible, everyone trying to outdo each other with high quality silk and lace. He liked hearing all the languages mixing together as he ran through the crowds, no real destination in mind, narrowly missing the waiters that would stumble over his small body. It was also a time Romano was able to see his brother he had been taken away from.

He snapped back to the present, eyes shining with hope as Spain chuckled, shaking his head.

“No, no parties. These are, a-ah… they’re for my boss…” he trailed off, glancing down at Romano’s hand, eyebrows furrowing in worry. “Lovi! Your hands! What happened?!” Romano withdrew his hand, eyes widening in fear, mistaking his caretaker’s worry for anger.

“N-nothing! Nothing, dammit!” he cried, lowering himself so Spain couldn’t see his juice stained face. Spain quickly stood up, taking just one step to get the other end of the table. Romano cursed his long legs and his tallness and scariness and—

“Ch-chigii!” he screamed as he was swooped up into Spain’s arms. He struggled frantically, feeling like a trapped animal. “Let me down! Let me down! Let me down, dammit!”

Spain cooed softly, waiting for Romano to tire himself out and finally relax in his arms. “What did you do to yourself? Why are you all red and sticky?” Spain raised an eyebrow, setting Romano down on the countertop. He picked up facecloth, dipping it in the water basin. He gently began to clean off Romano’s hands.

“I…. I got hungry…” he muttered, looking away as he held out his other red hand. Spain laughed loudly as he wiped the facecloth across Romano’s face. The boy squirmed against the cold cloth, trying to get away.

“Tomatoes? Oh, Lovi… You’re gonna make yourself sick if you eat so many at once. Look at this mess…! It’s even on your feet! How did you even…?” Spain trailed off, incredulous. Romano angrily pouted.

“I had to hurry, dammit! Or else the man would’ve found me and yelled at me!” Romano cried, swinging his feet as Spain tried to catch them with the wet cloth. Spain glanced up, cocking an eyebrow.

“Lovi… What did I tell you about stealing…?” he asked, throwing the now red cloth back in the basin and lifting Romano into his arms, bringing him back to the table. Sitting, he set Romano in his lap. “Stealing is wrong, Lovi… No more. If you want a tomato come into the kitchen and the nice maid will give you one. Come on; come help me make some flowers!”

Romano stared at the flowers suspiciously. He picked up one in his hands.

“Fine, bastard. But if I get a paper cut, I’m kicking your ass!”

(Source: jadeharleyquinn)