Gig from Soul Nomad

[Fanfic] The Wonderful Delights of the Secret Paella 1/?

Title: The Wonderful Delights of the Secret Paella
Characters/Pairings: Spain, Romano (a slight chance on SpainxRomano)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cursing
Summary: Sequel to 'The Paella's Secret Recipe' (can be found in my profile journal entries in two parts or by the profile name of Cha0tic-Foxy.) Lovino and Antonio are off to a long drive to enter for the festival event in Calle del Buen Vecindario for participating the paella competition. The two nations will spend two weeks there. However, things will happen later on...

  The lovely warmth from the sun basked all over the centre of Calle del Buen Vecindario. The streets were crowded with the townspeople who were making preparations for the upcoming festival event. Few of the visitors who arrived in early came from long hours within driving distance from main cities or either near or far foreign countries to not to miss any of the special openings.

  Nobody else could contain their excitement for this greatest event occasion; not even Spain. Romano, on the other hand, scowled intensely as he looked at the speeding blurs of sight-viewing mountains, valleys, and few lovely villa towns as Spain was driving his Kia grand Carnival at a reasonable speed limit on the highway.

  "How much longer does it take to get to whatever we are going, you bastard?" grunted Romano with displeasure. He had been sitting on the car seat for at least five long hours and could feel his whole body, including his ass, falling asleep and sore. He turned his head towards the backseat as he searched around for some grocery shopping that both he and Spain brought along for the entire journey if they ever felt hungry. Growling with hunger, he stretched out his arms for the plastic bag and brought it to his lap as he rummaged through the containments. So far, the snacks for the whole journey were childish ones such as Fonzies, Kinder Bueno, Kinder Penguí, Esta Thé, etc. Luckily, they did pack some great goods: bakery foods like fresh bread and pizza bianca, which were picked freshly from early morning before the departed for the journey; the white and succulent mozzarella, a couple of Cacciatori salamis, and prosciutto crudo where selectively chosen by Romano from a small butchery shop; and finally few juicy fruits like grapes, apples, and mandarins for a healthy diet.

  Licking his lips, Romano carefully retrieved a wooden board from his side of his seat and set it to his lap. He then finally dug out the white pizza, mozzarella, salami and prosciutto crudo from the shopping bag and placed the whole thing together onto the board base. Trying not to fall out the items off the cutting board from the constant movement of the car, he opened the little front door facing in front of him, and took out a sharp looking kitchen knife, which dangerously looked like could be used as a murderous weapon. If Romano were to be dressed in a burgundy shirt tucked under a luxurious black suit and elegant shoes, not to mention brown shaded sunglasses and a black Homburg hat, he would have mistaken to be part of the mafia group if he were found carrying that knife around. Feeling satisfied, he went back to slicing up the salami into individual thin pieces.

  For the past five minutes, Spain has been eyeing at Romano but maintained his glances lasted only for three seconds for not bringing attention from Romano; not to mention, making an accident. Unfortunately, Romano caught him red-handed after Spain did his sixth glance.

This seriously pissed him off big time.

  "Che cazzo stai facendo?! Are you trying to cause an accident and injure us badly?! Don't take your eyes off the word, you bastard!" Romano glared alertly at Spain who was chuckling as a tense reliever to avoid any confrontations with the Italian. He grunted with annoyance when he mistook Spain's nervous smile for his usual goofy and amusing self. "What are you laughing at?" growled Romano.

  "N-nada! It's really nothing Romano. But can't you offer your friend some food as well?" His face suddenly transformed into a pitiful puppy-like whiny expression. "I've been driving since we left my place at 10:30 am, and I only had some tea and few biscotti since you've been quite a heavy sleeper and I couldn't wake you up for the past 2 and a half hours because you are such a cute, dozing bebecito…" His sentence was cut off when a sudden sharp pain came from his upper arm. Spain gave out a loud yelp, turning his head as he looked at Romano, who was holding up his hand in preparation for his next hit. That would seriously a bad bruise in a few minutes.

"Don't you dare blame it on me, Spain! How the hell can I get up at 7:00 am in the morning?! It's too early!"

  "But Romano. We could have made it to town by 2:00 pm. Think of all the traffic we could have been avoided. Now it's already 2:45 am, and we're still about two hours away. Seriously Romano, look at the time we could have saved if you haven't overslept!" Spain's smile turned into a disappointed frown, keeping his focus on driving.

  "Well, guess what you, tomato-jerk? I'm going to have this delicious pizza sandwich filled with mozzarella, prosciutto AND salami and you won't have any!" Romano gave out a 'hmph" sound as he goes back at this sandwich he already finished preparing and began to sink his teeth in for his first bite.

  "¡¿Como?! ¡ Vamanos Romano! You can't do this to me. I'M STARVING!" Spain began to plead madly through his whines as Romano continued to munch on his meal, ignoring the Spaniard's demands.

"Don't be so cruel. At least help me feed me those snacks. You don't want me to be dead while driving, do you?"

  "Va bene! Cavolo. You seriously a pain in the butt, you know that?" Setting his sandwich aside, he took out the Fonzies snack bag and began to squeeze out the air from the lower bottom until he heard a 'pop' sound. As he unsealed off the top layer of the plastic bag to widen the opening, he shoved the snack right in front the side of Antonio's face.

"Here's your dumb snack," grunted Romano as he shook the item furiously.

"You have to feed me Romano. You know I'm driving right now."

  "WHAT?! Fuck this! I'm not hand-feeding you. DO IT YOURSELF!" Romano's screaming could have made Spain's ears deaf in just a few seconds.

  Spain knew that his friend was seriously stubborn in many situations. If anything that Spain has been taught and learnt through centuries living with the Italian, he should have to play along with him and play fire against fire.

  Yes. Spain has his secret plan. An avoidable and unbeatable weapon made by the awesome boss. Something that Romano cannot refuse. That would drive him nuts to the ends of the world.

  "Aaaaaaah~ Tengo haaaaambreeeee~ Loviiii no quiere conseguirme comiiidaaa. Estoy murieeendo de haaambreeee~" Spain emitted fake baby wailings as he continued his childish actions. Lovino was beginning to lose his patience as he slapped one of his ears with his free hand, trying to block the irritating sounds from his dumb boss.

  "Alright! I'll feed you! SO STOP CRYING YOU IDIOT!" Feeling pleased, Spain shut his mouth in a flash as he grinned happily at Romano.

"Muchas gracias. I know you won't let me down."

Note to self: Spain is the Devil himself.

  Sighing with defeat, he picked a few cheesy maiz sticks and groaned with disgust as he placed them into Spain's mouth. Antonio took his time ingesting before he licked around his lips for any leftover crumbles that might have stick to. When he finally finished 'cleaned' his mouth, he slightly leaned his body towards the side in Romano's direction while keeping his eye on the road.

"Oye Romano. Pio pio~" chirped Antonio happily as he left his mouth wide open hanging in the air.

  Lovino wrinkled his forehead with shock look as he gawked at Spain as if he were a mentally retarded person. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You?" He cannot actually express his individually dictated words into a whole, single sentence. He could, but his amazement on the Spaniard's stupidity never ceased to astound him, leaving him unable to process the situation he was in.

  "I'm acting like a baby chick, como Gilbird lo hice. What do you, think? Do I sound like him?" He laughed at himself as he grinned warmly.

  "Just shut up and eat these dumb snacks!" He quickly shoved a quite large amount of snack sticks into Spain's mouth, which disrupted Spain's laughter. As he cautiously chewed on the sticks to avoid any large shards that might have lodge into his esophagus, he swallowed the whole thing into his stomach before he let out a pleasing 'ah' from his replenished hunger.

This is good. The bastard is finely full and I can finally have the time all myself...

"Oh Romanooo."

Fuck. Now what?

"Tengo sed. Could you take the ice tea from the cooler? You really don't need to help me drink it. I can do it myself."

  "Fine but no more favours. Sei propio un rompe palle, lo sai?" He opened the cooler lid that was lying on the floor underneath him. All he could see were a bunch of small kiddy sized Esta Thé cups with straws, a pack of Kinder Penguí, and some other things that could be seriously consider food for any kid's age in kinder and primary school.

  Romano raised his eyebrow as he picked one of the cups and stabbed the plastic straw through the hole. "Spain, why did you buy a kiddy size? You do realize they have these in bigger sizes?"

"I know but I thought it would be more convenient to buy in small sizes for easy travelling out in public, no?"

"Sigh. I guess you're right."

  He passed the drink to Antonio; as soon he had the drink into his hand, Antonio already began to sip the cool peachy liquid into his mouth. Feeling the boredom crawling into him, Romano reached his hand for the radio knob to listen for any interesting news or songs when he realized a few tips of his fingers were already covered with those Fonzies sticks.

He tried to look around for a napkin to wipe them off but he found no luck with them. Oh well. He might as well lick them off.

  As soon as he placed his finger into his mouth, he licked off the edges of his finger as he took his time savouring each taste of the crumbles. He exhaled with delight as the flavour of the cheese and maiz melted onto his taste buds. This situation reminded him that one commercial where a girl was in the library and was dumbfounded for finished her last Fonzies bag but realized she already had a few crumbles left in her one finger. But of course, there has to be some comedy; in result, her talking finger came to live and demanded her to lick him off the crumbles. Of course, feeling embarrass, the girls tried to shush him off until, overwhelming with desire, she quickly laid her finger into her mouth, sighing with relieve.

  Yeah. That would have been weird if it ever happened to Romano. Of course, he would have guess that wouldn't have happen to him since it was the Spaniard who tasted the—

Hold on a minute....

If I've been feeding Antonio those stick snacks and I sucked off those crumbles, that means that I—

Romano stood there stiffly as he felt a horror feeling creeping through his skin.

  "Fuck! That's disgusting!" said Romano hysterically as he banged his head against the glass window. Spain was alerted by the abrupt reaction from the Italian.

  "Gah! Romano! What's wrong?! You're going to hurt yourself or even cause some trouble if you don't stop that!" shrieked Spain.


"How is this MY fault?!"


Fucking Spaniard. He just gave me an indirect kiss! Fuck, you'll pay for this.

A/N: Hi everyone. I expect you did not expect a sequel to 'The Paella's Secret Recipe' when I said there won't be. ^^ Haha. Sorry about that. I don't know how long this story will go but don't expect it to finish it too soon. xD SO enjoy.


In Italian:

"Che cazzo stai facendo?!" = What the fuck/hell are you doing?!

"Va bene! Cavolo." = Alright! Damn/Fuck.

"Sei propio un rompe palle, lo sai?" = You are such a dick, you know that? (Rompe palle literally means 'breaking balls/testicles" but in this case, it means how annoying the person or the situation is, etc.)

In Spanish:

""¡¿Como?! ¡ Vamanos Romano!" = What?! Come on Romano!

"Aaaaaaah~ Tengo haaaaambreeeee~ Loviiii no quiere conseguirme comiiidaaa. Estoy murieeendo de haaambreeee~"" = Aaaah~ I'm hungry~ Lovi doesn't want to get me

some food. I'm dying from hunger.

"Oye" = Hey.

"Pio pio" = "Chirp chirp." That's what the chick sounds like if you write it in Spanish.

"Tengo sed" = I'm thirsty.

Food Background Details

Pizza Bianca, prosciutto crudo, mozarella and Cacciatori salami = white pizza bread, raw salty ham and a special salami named 'Hunter's Salami'. Usually the main ingredients to make a sandwich using either any kind of bread or a white pizza, of course with some lettuce on. It's delicious. If you ever go to Italy, buy those things and make them yourselves (though I had one made by the guy working in the supermarket do it for me when I was like 7 years old. ^^ He, or was it my mom, tried to cheer me up cuz I had the mumps. Xc)

Fonzies = I guess, the European version of "Cheetohs"? It's actually delicious (to me). Mainly it tastes like corn and cheese. ^^ *licks lips*

Kinder Buendo/Penguin = I think everyone know Kinder Bueno but I'm not sure if you know about Kinder Penguin. Sigh. How can I describe it? I guess it's like "eskimo pie" or a "klondike bar" (never tried those, well except once for the eskimo pie) but the snack is not really an ice-cream. It's a cool chocolate bar with cream milk inside with a thin line of chocolate in the middle. Damn. I miss those having snacks back in kinder/primary school. x;

Esta The = One of the known ice tea brands, mostly in peach and lemon flavours. ^o^

Let me know if I miss any translations, food details or any grammar mistake. English is not my first language. D:

I hope I made everyone mouth-watering. xD

And yes. Such commercial (and many others) like that do exist. xD Search 'Fonzies pubblicità' in Youtube. I can translate what they were saying if you want to.

Gig from Soul Nomad

101 Things Romania Should not do...

1. I will not rant about that bitchy Hungarian and her stupid frying pan.
2. Even though I wanted too…
3. I will not curse at Russia for taking Moldova away after his independence…
4. Which, in result, made Moldova “Russified”
5. Which it made hard for me to talk to him.
6. I will not dress up as a vampire and scare the shit out of America, telling him “I vant to suck your blood!”
7. Even though his reaction is absolutely priceless.
8. Hehe.
9. I will not get angry at Hungary for taking my brother Transylvania during the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
10. That little tomboy bitch.
11. I’m banned for forming an alliance with Prussia just to beat the shit of Hungary…
12. In which we’ll get owned by her frying pan skills.
13. Those fucking pans hurt like hell. *rubs head*
14. I have to restrain myself for beating anyone who thinks I’m a gypsy.
15. That also includes having a bad reputation.
16. Because I’m neither of those things.
17. I will stop shouting “Me and Moldova share a special and close relationship!” during the meetings and other public areas because both of us share quite a common language and history together.
18. We’re just good friends.
19. Though it was worth it to see Moldova’s interestingly blushing face.
20. I will not make fun of Hungary for thinking she was born male and that nations will grow their penises out when reaching a certain age.
21. Fuck #14! That shit is funny as hell. HAHAHAHAHA!
22. THONK!
23. Ouch! *mumbles* Stupid Hungary….
24. Even though both I and Hungary signed a treaty back in 1996 to settle our disagreements, the fact is that we are still enemies and we’re always WILL be. Don’t get the wrong idea!
25. I will not go over and whine to Russia, telling him to return my Romanian Treasure that I sent to him during WWI as safekeeping.
26. Because so far, we can’t seem to reach an agreement, which in return of the treasures, I must become one with him if I wanted them back.
27. Fucking psycho. I’ll take what belongs to me someday.
28. Even if both Moldova and I have a great relationship, we somehow can’t reach an agreement to things, like that bilateral treaty for example.
29. Why are you playing hard-to-get Moldova?
30. I must be at least approximately five meters away from Greece during the meetings.
31. Because we have quite a ‘strong’ relationship due to that fact the Greeks lived in my country for the past 27 centuries…
32. And that he gets all fuzzy and clingy on me….
33. And purring like a cat…
34. Though I don’t mind if he did that.
35. I won’t ask to Moldova why he can’t act more like Greece.
36. In which will enrage him and will turn out like Russia, all scary and shit.
37. I’m disbanded from joining with Turkey for an out-social drinking because of some havoc will might cause.
38. Pffft. Yeah right. Don’t try to diss my buddy-bud.
39. I will not steal and hide Hungary’s pans.
40. Same goes to her stash of yaoi books.
41. Though seeing her wondering around, panic-stricken and screaming is like being in heaven.
42. What? The bitch totally deserved it!
43. I will try to conduct an anger management counselling to overcome my issues with Hungary.
44. Fuck this shit! Like hell I want to be nice with that tomboy!
45. *grumbles*
46. I will not stab America for thinking that there are vampires in Transylvania and that we have funny accents like those Hollywood movies.
47. I’m no longer will talk with Russia in Russian (even though I was forced to learn it during communism but thankfully this was stopped around 1990).
48. This will end up in exchanging words of insults and gore violent phrases.
49. And nobody wants to see the day we both try to kill each others’ guts.
50. That’s not a nice image I wanted to see either.
51. I will, I repeat, I will NOT go paranoid when people mistaken my capital city, Bucharest, for Hungary’s: Budapest.
53. *deep breath*
54. I feel much better.
55. I will not act like a dog.
56. Seeing the fact that I and Hungary have a ‘cat and dog’ relationship.
57. In which Hungary, ‘the cat’, is all bitchy, aggressive, and needy.
58. And as for me, Romania, ‘the dog’, is brave, loyal and much more sophisticated than her.
59. I will not say that both Austrian and Hungary’s relationships remind me of one those people who are into the S&M activities.
60. It was Prussia who mentioned it to me.
61. Which means it’s not true.
62. Though it’s ever so fitting for the bitching Hungary.
63. *smirks*
64. SLAM!
65. OUCH! Stop hitting me with that dumb pan!
66. Stupid Hungary inspecting over my stupid ‘Not to do’ list…
67. I refrain from all the bad things mentioned in the list on Hungary.
68. Because she’s not a bitch, neither a tomboy, nor a dominatrix.
69. Why are you giving me that look Elizaveta? You told me to right nice things about you.
70. THUNK!
71. I… hate….you… so much
72. When approaching to Italy and his brother, I have to remind myself not to be in foul mood…
73. Because I know what some of those Romanian gypsies did living over there…
74. In which would terrify the Italian brothers for life, leaving them a bad trauma.
75. *sad sigh*
76. I and Hungary will not engage into a murderous fight during any UN meetings…
77. In which other nations will just shout at us that we should leave and get a roo—
78. Hold a second! Those bastards!
79. I will not involve in some weird negotiation with Hungary that she’ll promise me to be back with Moldova, in exchange writing a yaoi doujin/fanfic about us.
80. Even though that sounds promising.
81. I will not form an alliance with Mongolia and Turkey, just to find an excuse to bully Hungary like the old times.
82. Though I would like to see her frustrated face again.
83. I will shut my mouth on depicting that Vlad III the Impaler was the greatest hero of all time.
84. I don’t care if other nations think he was a blood-thirsty vampire and all, I still think he was great!
85. I will stop making a list during the UN sessions on “101 reasons why Hungary is a fucking bitch”
86. Is she gone now?
87. Good. She is.
88. I take that back all the good things I mentioned about Hungary.
89. I mean, who wants to be with her? Even Prussia hates her guts.
90. Except Austria. Can’t see what he sees in her.
91. She’s all bossy, and pushy…
92. And bitchy, and fugly…
93. And scary…
94. Shit. She’s coming!
95. Oh wait. It’s just Moldova.
96. Phew.
97. Where was I… Ah yes!
98. Hungary’s true weight is over 900 pounds.
99. And so does her breasts! BWAHAHAHAHA!
100. BONK!
101. Damn…. You…. Hungary *collapses*

~Signed (forcibly) by Romania

I had to do my research of Romania's relations and all that. xD I was thinking that Moldova being a girl but then I came up from the wikia Hetalia that Himaruya did a chibified version of it (that one about the European collapse in economy and all that), and it looked like a male, collapsed next to a fainted Hungary as well, while Austria looks all fine. And I think Romania should be a male. ^^;

If I find anything new listing points, I'll add them. xD I hope these are accurate enough.
Gig from Soul Nomad

[List]79+(3) Things that Spain will not do or say. Period.

1. I will not act like a pedophile to any other cute little children.

2. Because Lovi told me to--

3. Cause he cares.

4. What do you mean you don’t?

5. Sigh.

6. I no longer will be part of the ‘Bad Trio Friends’ with both France and Prussia…

7. Because either Austria or Romano doesn’t like me to go with them.

8. I must not act like a clueless and oblivious target, even if I can’t read the atmosphere.

9. I was told that France would take advantage of me.

10. Huh? Really?

11. I must not tell Portugal that his language sounds like a retarded version of Spanish.

12. It would offend him deeply.

13. And also would bring us again centuries of rivalry war.

14. I must not talk about pirates…

15. Because it brings nasty memories about them…

16. ….That includes England as well.

17. Brrrr….. *shivers*

18. I must not talk how nasty and hideous looking his cookings are.

19. Because both England and Portugal will get mad at me.

20. Since they’re best friends ever since.

21. I must not lure Mexico with hot chilli peppers or any hot spices.

22. Even though his reaction is amusing to watch.

23. I will not bombard the UN meeting with tomatoes.

24. Same thing goes to England`s house.

25. However, I can do so in my place.

26. I will not think or say that Romano looked kind of chubby when he was a kid.

27. Even though he looked cute, like a big, fat, red toma- -

28. Argh!

29. I will refrain from what I said in #24 and #25

30. Because Romano said so.

31. Even though it’s true.

32. Gah!

33. Duele… Mucho…

34. I will not consider the turtles as part of my family.

35. Or Romano’s…

36. Or even our’s…

37. Because he’ll get mad… again

38. The turtles aren’t our children nor will they address me either Mama o Papi.

39. Same goes with Romano.

40. Though Romano will be a great mother… or father.

41. Ah! Sorry Lovi!

42. I will not name the turtles after me…

43. Or Feliciano…

44. Or even Romano…

45. I will not say that Germany’s wursts and potatoes are the best.

46. I’ll stop asking why Romano keeps on head butting in my guts every time I pulled his curl.

47. Because he won’t tell me.

48. I’m not allowed to ask Romano to dress up as a matador.

49. It would end up me forcing me to undress him up.

50. Resulting in more head butting.

51. I will no longer mistakenly flirt with any other nations…

52. Wait? Do I flirt mistakenly?

53. I’m not allowed to hang out with France.

54. This would result my flirtiness that I’m not aware of…

55. I must not be tempted by the delicious sight by the tomato

56. Even if France told me to get undress for a whole boxful of them.

57. I must not smile for no reason at all.

58. It would irritate some people.

59. I must not wear my matador costume in either public view or in the UN meetings.

60. It would only make my ass vulnerable to France’s sexual predation.

61. And would be groped at in the end.

62. I will not mope about Romano’s love denial.

63. Because he’s not in love with me.

64. Though he still cares about me.

65. Those previous two points doesn’t even make sense Romano!

66. I will no longer question him about our relationship.

67. I will not beat the best record on making the largest paella in the world.

68. I will no longer buy any strange spices for the paella’s cooking. (This refers to the fanfic story of The Paella’s Secret Recipe I wrote)

69. It would upset Romano very much.

70. Even though I have no clue why.

71. I will not make any awkward talks with anyone else.

72. Even if I did say some weird things from that guy in the coffee shop I worked in.

73. I will no longer do any flamenco with Lovino.

74. Even though he blushes so furiously.

75. Which made him even cuter.

76. Oops! Mi culpa.

77. I will not say `I`m the best boss of Spain`.

78. Because I`m not.

79. And I will no longer invade Romano`s vital regions.

80. What?! ¿¡Porque no?!

81. ¡Vamos Romano! Not even for a sec—

82. Nnrgh.

Note: Uhm, I hope this is fun to read. xD In #68, this refers to the fanfic The Paella's Secret Recipe that I posted here in my journal entry, in the fanfiction.Net site, and also in the Deviantart site, flamefox324. So yeah. ^^;
Gig from Soul Nomad

The Paella's Secret Reciped (Part 2) (RomanoxSpain)

Continuation from:

Title: The Paella's Secret Recipe (Part 2)
Author: flamefox324
Characters/Pairings: SpainxRomano
Ratings: PG-13
Warnings: Profanities in both English and Italian, sex, grammar mistakes
Summary: Romano continued to sleep until Spain showed up in his room. Something felt different about Spain. Romano felt as the Spain he knew was gone. What will happen?


It felt hours passed by as Romano slept peacefully and happily like a cat sunbathing under the sun. His tranquility didn’t last long as he felt a hand nudging constantly against his shoulder. A soft, gentle voice called out his name into his ear. Romano grunted in annoyance, struggling to go back to sleep.

“Oye Romano. Wake up.”

He felt once more the stranger’s hand. He slowly opened his eyelids and stood up straight, facing the blurry image in front of him. He stared blankly at the figure for a minute; he rubbed his eyes to clear his blurriness and stare back at the person in front of him.

Spain was sitting on the bed, smiling at him. But something felt unusually different about him. He cannot put his finger on it but he could perceive something strange was going to happen.

“What is it, you bastard? I’m trying to sleep here.”

The Spaniard continued to smile. He leaned close to Romano’s face; his dazzling and intense emerald eyes pierced into his. His mind stood frozen for a moment, not able to make a reaction.

“W-w-what the hell are you doing?! Don’t scare me like that you idiot! You seriously are making me angry.”

Antonio didn’t pay in mind to his insults. He moved his body closer to Romano’s, lightly pushing the Italian down on the bed. Now he has the upper hand, revealing his devilish smile. Romano gulped.

“Aww Lovi. You sound cute when you get mad at me. It makes me want to gobble you up whole.”


He cannot believe what he was seeing. The person in front of him wasn’t Spain at all. This guy in reality was a wolf in disguise, ready to attack his prey with his predatory, hungry eyes.

He never knew that Spain was this kinky enough to do such things. Okay, he had to admit he can a bit kinky at times but there are certain levels of kinkiness and for sure this is OVER of Spain’s line.

Romano was lying there, paralyzed. Spain, chuckling at such a sight, sealed his lips into Romano’s.

He could feel his hot, warm breath rushing into his body. He closed his eyes shut, unable to break off the kiss. He felt himself uncomfortable as Spain’s tongue wrapped around his, feeling the wet and slimy foreign saliva entering into his mouth.

Romano flushed in embarrassment. His body suddenly felt hot and tight. He had no clue what was going on.

Both of their lips were finally broken off. Romano gasped in agony. The oxygen finally rushed back into his lungs. The kiss was seriously deep and painful for him to breathe. He slowly opened his eyes halfway, dazing at Antonio.

Spain reacted to his gaze with a smile; he once again leaned forward to the side of his neck and gnawed gently on the flesh. A small pale red colour appeared.

“Gah! Stop it Spain! Don’t make me head butt in your stomach like I usually do!” His response to the hickey wasn’t at all pleasant.

“Oh? If you really hate it so much, wouldn’t you have done that about minutes ago while I was kissing you?”

His expression turned diabolical. Spain has become a flirtatious and sex-maniac incubus.

O dio mio. What the hell is going on?! What’s with Spain?! Why he’s acting like this?!

Spain was still at Romano’s neck, licking his love mark. He then followed down to the chest area, sucking and licking on his left nipple. He gave few gentle nibbling, causing to Romano to squeal with horror.

“Spain! C-cut it out!”

Antonio did not heed to his words. He continued to suckle on his nipple.

His right hand took its next destination on the waist area. He slowly tucked his hand under the sides of the boxers, tenderly stroking the hip. He tugged deeper on the boxers’ behind, savagely grabbing on the buttocks. Romano whelped.

“What the hell think you’re doing?!”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to have sex with you,” said Spain firmly.

What’s with the direct response?!

His boxers were suddenly removed, leaving him fully naked on the bed.

“Now then. Shall we?”


Spain began to undress himself and leaned his body close enough for intimidate contact.

Suddenly, everything turned black.

The house became silent. Series of panting and moaning sounds echoed in the room.

“N-no... Stop it..”

Romano felt himself shaking helplessly under Spain’s embracing arms. Antonio kissed at his nape, his hands wondering all over the body. The hands were then unexpectedly lowered to his vital organ region.

Romano gave out a surprise jolt.

“Ah! Not that! Please...”

He could feel Antonio’s warm breath against his neck. His body reacted with intense desire for sexual pleasure and hot, passionate sex from Spain. He couldn’t understand what was happening to him.

Spain’s hands began to invade the lower parts. He spread the legs wider, sliding in between the butt cheeks. He raised his left hand to his face, licked his index and middle fingers and went back to slide them into Romano’s vital hole.

“Hey! Spain! A-ah...”

He twitched uncontrollably as Spain’s fingers shoved around in circles. His body sweated profusely and moaned seductively.


The way he called out his name lovingly seemed so off for him but he can’t help to feel great.

The fingers gave its final and deep push into the hole. Romano’s mind went into a blank state. His eyes cannot see his surroundings but he can hear his crying on Spain’s name.,.

“N-no... Antonio... Aaah.... Stop..... it... CUT IT OUT!”

His body jolted from his bed, his eyes widen with panic. The room radiated a dim, dusky darkness. Romano looked at the alarm clock on the night stand.

“It’s 17:30 o’clock?”

Shocked by how late he slept, he came to his senses and looked around for Spain. It seemed he was nowhere to be found.

Was it..... a dream?

He gulped down really hard. He hoped it was. It better be. But how would he know whether the dream was true or not? He thought alternate ways to answer his question.

He looked under his bedcovers. The sheets looked clean and he was still wearing his boxers. It still wasn’t enough to justify his answer. He began to whisper his prayers.

He tossed the sheets away and jumped out off the bed. Standing on his two legs, he became puzzled. His butt didn’t hurt at all. He patted it to make sure of it. It wasn’t sore at all.

“Thank god. My ass is still fine.”

This justified everything. The sex he had with Spain was all just a dream... just a dream.

His stomach began to make uncomfortable growling sounds. He clutched to his stomach to quieten his stomach. Somehow his body acted weirdly today. He thought he might take a visit to the kitchen and drink some water or medication to make his body better.

He picked up the bed sheets, wrapped it around himself, and left the bedroom. He walked slowly down the corridor. As he walked by, he could hear the snores coming from a meter away. With a sense of curiosity, he followed the source of the snoring and stood in front of the door.

He twisted the doorknob as slowly and quietly as he could possibly do; he poked his head into the room, seeing a motionless figure under the bed sheets.

Spain was still sleeping. Thinking that it wasn’t the best time to disturb him, Romano shut the door as he went downstairs to the kitchen.

He began his search around the kitchen cabinets, trying to find any kind of medications he could take. It’s not the fact that he felt sick or he was about to throw up, but it felt that his body had a strange tingling sensation; that it wanted to burst out of its surface and be free. Whatever it was, it didn’t make him pleased at all.

He wondered if the spice that Spain used was the cause of it. He doubts that the food would be the accomplice to his strange reaction. He went to the kitchen table and found the spice container Spain was showing to him earlier. He took the bottle and read the label contents glued onto it.

There was no ingredient contents section, nor any of those dietary contents. He only found just one single phrase in curse handwriting. He read it out loud.

Tus profundos y íntimos secretos serán revelados

It seemed it was written in Spanish. He tried to translate into his head what the phrase meant (all thanks to Spain’s Spanish lessons and the fact that both Italian and Spanish are similar languages).

“’Your deepest and intimate secrets will be revealed?’ What kind of shit is this?! Some hell of advertisement it is.”

His words broke off. He looked back at the bottle once again and went back on processing his thoughts. Something just struck him in his mind and it wasn’t a nice thought as well. Romano gaped with terror as he stared back at the innocent-looking bottle.


Back at upper floor, Spain was still snoozing in his bedroom. He laid on the coversheets, drooling on his pillowcase. He muttered out the words “tomatoes” and “Romano” countless times. Made people wondering what he was dreaming out (Uhm, he’s dreaming about Romano and tomatoes? xD).

A sudden thudding noise from downstairs woke Spain. With his eyes feeling droopy, he looked questionably what was going on. His question has finally come with an answer.


The door suddenly busted open from Romano’s kick; Antonio’s expression turned surprised. He wasn’t sure what was going on but for sure he hasn’t done anything wrong. I mean, just minutes ago he was sleeping. Expecting a punch, Spain shut his eyes as a reflex.

Instead, he felt a couple of arms embraced around him. He re-opened his eyes, seeing Romano hugging him. He flinched with shocking realization of such a rare event.

“Spaaaain! Your stupid spice did something to me! I just had the weirdest dream and I cannot relax now!”

The Italian wailed desperately. Spain could feel gushes of water spilled from him. He patted his head, trying to calm him down.

“Eh, sorry. I didn’t know the spice would be that bad for you. If it would make you sleep better, you could stay with me till morning.”

Romano looked up to him, his eyes still wet from his tears. So far, his body didn’t feel strange at from the minute he stepped into the room. And knowing that he’s a coward, he didn’t want to spend the night alone.

Without much saying, Romano pushed away from Spain and dug under the covers like a rabbit. Watching at his strange ramped behaviour, Spain chuckled under his breath before he settled back to his bed. Both nations continued with their slumber.

The silence was then broken off.

“Hey Spain.”

“Yes Romano?”

“If you do ANYTHING to me while I’m sleeping, you’ll pay.”

“W-what did I do?!”

“S-shut up! Go to sleep!”


Next morning has arrived. Both nations were up and fully dressed.

Looking at the bottle in his hand, Romano began to talk with Spain if anything strange happened to him.

Spain looked at him confusingly.

“Huh? Did I feel strange yesterday? No, not really. Wait... are you saying that the spice did something to you in your dream that you were talking about yesterday?”

Romano coughed.

“Of course not! What crappy nonsense are you talking about?! Just shut up and concentrate on your competition!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, not sure people would be pleased if they ate spice that does weird things to them,” said Spain teasingly. He went back on chopping the tomatoes.

Looking back at the bottle, Romano was lost in his thoughts. He kept thinking why the spice reacted to him instead of Spain.

He had to admit, it was one heck of a spice to be able to work on him.

"It’s because Spain is an open-minded person compared to Romano. Spain’s emotions are free to be expressed and not to be concerned into concealing themselves. As for Romano, his were trapped, not wanting to express due to timid behaviour. Just one pinch of spice is enough to unlock your emotions, going wild and free and also revealing out deepest secrets."

Author's Note: Forgive if the ending sounds crappy. D: I promised I'll be done today so I rushed along the story. Sorry if anything made no sense at all. :C The last quotation phrase, you could say the narrator (-coughs- The Gypsy-coughs-) explained the essential role the spice played in. Yes. I know, it's corny. ^^;

Gig from Soul Nomad

[Fanfic]RomanoxSpain (The Paella's Secret Recipe)

Title: The Paella's Secret Recipe (Part 1)
Author: flamefox324
Characters/Pairings: SpainxRomano (mentioning of Germany/Italy)
Ratings: PG-13
Warnings: Profanities in both English and Italian, sex (coming up), grammar mistakes
Summary: Spain came back from his grocery shopping when suddenly Romano visited his house. The Spaniard offered him his Paella cooking for an upcoming competition. Suddenly, Romano felt sleepy. What will happen?

Spring has finally arrived at this town. The birds from the trees nearby chirped their sweet, melodic music; the flowers bloomed beautifully with their fragrance drifting in the air; and the cool, fresh air rushed along with the blazing rays of the sun. Around the neighbourhood streets, a young Spaniard hummed as he walked back home, carrying a bagful of grocery shopping. Spain was in his usual good mood.

Every step he took he made a little leap of joy, enjoying his carefree life. He swung the entrance gates open, showing his usual bright smile as he shoved the key into the keyhole of the door.

“¡Ah, que emoción! I cannot wait till I work on it,” said Spain gleefully. It seemed that Spain was eager on something exciting. He walked straight ahead to the kitchen, laid the groceries on the counter, and opened the windows wide, letting the fresh breeze rushing in. While Spain observed the landscape, he placed his hands on his waist, smiling at the wonders and tranquility of spring.

However, the peace didn’t last very long. Somewhere nearby, he could hear an angry screeching of profanities.

“Maledetto a quella brutta e grossa patata! Farò a pezzi a lui e a suoi muscoli schifosi!”

Romano came storming at Spain’s front door with a dangerous glare on his face. He banged against the door many times, waiting for Antonio to open it.

“Spaaaain! You bastaard! Open this stupid door!”

Spain sighed, knowing already who his guest was. He went for the door and opened it. He greeted his usual sunny smile.

“¡Hola Romano! ¿Que pasa?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Spain. You know exactly what’s going on. My fratellino is still with that darn potato-brain bastard! God I hate him!”

Romano intruded into Antonio’s house without much of needing his permission to enter. He kept grunting with anger as he threw himself onto the couch, with his feet on the table.

Antonio heaved a huge sigh as he shut the door. He sat on the sofa facing opposite to where Romano was sitting.

“Santos cielos Lovino. What did Ludwig have done this time?”

“I’ll tell you what he has done. He’s still hanging with Feliciano and manipulating him!”

Spain let out a nervous laugh. He never understood why Romano gets over-reacted with Germany, even though he has no ill intensions with Italy.

Guess it is normal for Romano to concern about Italy. They ARE both brothers after all, thought Spain.

Romano continued on his ranting on how Germany was a sly bastard into tricking his brother and etcetera. It may not be the most exciting topic to be constantly talking about but Romano didn’t really have anyone else to talk about these things except Spain. Antonio would always listen his ranting and not get bored from him. He would always go back to Spain whenever he gets upset or felt he was being targeted at.

Spain restlessly looked at the wall clock. Romano stopped his conversation when he noticed Spain wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Oi, bastard Spain! Pay attention to me, dammit! I had one hell of a day and you got the balls to ignore me!”

Spain turned his head quickly. He said in an apologetic tone, “S-sorry Romano! It’s just I had to do something that’s really important.”

Romano raised his eyebrow curiously. “Something important?”

“Sí. There’ll be a cooking paella competition in this town and I just bought some ingredients for making the best paella ever!” Spain’s eyes glowed with happiness and excitement for competing on the upcoming cooking event. Romano couldn’t have cared less.

“Eeh? You’re making your traditional food?”

“Yup. The problem is that I’m not sure if it’s delicious enough to be considered the best paella and I haven’t even made it yet.”

Spain was giving an impression in hinting something to Romano. Romano stood up straight and crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.

“So? What’s your point?”

“Well, I need a food taster to evaluate how good it is and since you’re here, you could be the food taster.”

Spain looked at Romano with his pleading, twinkling emerald eyes. Romano responded with a disgusted look.

“Fine, fine. I’ll taste your dumb paella.”

“¡Ah! ¡Gracias Romano! You will not regret it!”

Antonio got overly agitated; he grabbed on Romano’s arm and pulled his arm hard out from the couch.

“Aiya! Watch it, cretino!”

Both of them entered the kitchen; Spain has set up the cooking tools and ingredients out, wore a white apron on him and began to make himself busy. Romano just laid his head on the other side of the kitchen counter, observing Antonio’s passionate cooking spree.


The rich spices and food soon filled the room with its exotic aroma. Just one swift smell of it was enough to make your mouth watering. Romano cannot handle under the pressure of his hunger anymore.

“Gaaah! Damn it Spain! When will the food be ready?!” He banged his fists furiously on the dining table. He swore he could hear Spain laughing at his childish behaviour in the kitchen.

“It’s actually done. Just wait a sec,” said Spain. As he turned off the fire stove, he brought out a wooden board and placed it on the dining table and went back for the paella pan. Romano could see the steam rising from the rice food as Spain set the pan on the board.

“Finally! Ho una fame da lupi.” Without considering his table manners, Romano scooped onto his plate a bountiful of paella rice and savagely shoved the spoon in his mouth.

Just one bite was enough for Romano’s insides going wild with explosion. The fiery taste of the sweet spices melted on his taste buds, the fried calamaris were cooked to a golden-colour and had a wonderful crispy texture, and bits of other vegetables, seafood, and chicken were done nicely. Romano hadn’t taste anything like this in his entire life.

“Holy crap Spain! This is AMAZING! I’m quite surprise it tasted differently from the others you made for the past years. Just what did you put in this one?”

Spain gave a smirked look. “That’s because I used a special ingredient that I bought.”

Romano looked at Antonio from his plate, raising his eyebrow suspiciously. “Special? The hell you mean by that, you idiot.”

Spain didn’t take much offense to Romano’s insults. He just happily grabbed on a chair next to Romano and sat on it, telling his story.

“Well. At first, I went to the wet market to buy some fresh meat and seafood since it would be much better if I serve my paella nicely done and fresh without buying those industrialized, chemical supermarket goods because you know they—“

“Can you stop side tracking and get onto the topic you idiot?!”

Spain realized his side-tracking of the story; he gave an apologetic smile to Romano. He has the tendency to be excited on telling a story and get side-tracked to another event that happened that has nothing to do with the main point of the story. Romano must give credit to Spain that he can be the most foolish and clueless bastard he ever meant in the planet (well okay, same goes to Feliciano).

“Haha. Sorry. Got a little excited over here. Anyways... I just came from the wet market and thought to take a visit to the farmers’ market to grab some vegetables and spices. I was just roaming around when this Gypsy woman was calling onto me to her market stand.”

Romano suddenly gave a smirk chuckle. “Eeh? A Gypsy woman? Never knew you’re suddenly becoming popular with the ladies, Antonio.” Hoping to see a hint of embarrassment from his teasing, he leaned over to Spain’s face, looking at it.

Spain was taken by surprise, blushing furiously. “N-no! She wanted to sell some things to me. That was all.” Spain felt himself awkward as he spattered out his words. Romano can’t help himself to laugh inside his head. Spain took his time to compose himself.

“Well, she showed me her market sell on vegetables and spices she was selling. Then all of the sudden, she showed me this.”

A small thud came out as he placed out an object on the table. Romano stared at it blankly. It was a small, cream-coloured curved bottle with writings on it.

“Che cavolo? The hell is this thing?”

“It’s this new spice recipe she made it uniquely.”

“Uniquely? What nonsense are you sprouting about, you tomato-freak? Explain it.”

“Well, she said it’s not like the other spice brands. Guess you can say it’s special. “

Special, thought Romano. How in the world would a spice be so damn special? The way Spain described it sounds as if it was from a fantasy world where England would go about with his mythical friends.

Maybe I’m just imagining things.

“She even said she only made these in VERY special occasions and were very limited. She only made five of them and hadn’t sold them to anyone but me. Must be lucky to be to catch these babies, no? And like you said, the paella I just made tasted WAY better than the others I made!”

“Well, yeah I did. I’m sure you’ll win that competition Spain. If not, then I’ll be pissed for real at the judges for not choosing you and kick them in their culi!”

Even though his tone sounded stubborn and tough, underneath him he was just a pitiful coward like his brother. Spain laughed uncontrollably out loud to his remark.

“Heh. I appreciate your support very much. It means a lot to me. Now, let’s feast on this deliciosa paella before it gets cold.”

Romano nodded in agreement and continued to eat his plate. Spain began to fill up his plate and ate up the rice. The two men continued to enjoy their lunchtime peacefully.

The clock hanging from the wall ticked every second it went by. It was 2 o’clock and the two nations were done with their best feast they ever had.

“Damn Spain. The paella is seriously good! And those fried, black squids that you served as appetizer... what is called again?”

“Ah! You mean the Arañitas.”

“No wonder you called them like that. They DO look like little spiders.”

Romano laid back on the chair, stretching out his legs and arms. He suddenly felt his body feeling clumsy. He gave out a big yawn as he slumped back on the table.

“Feeling tired?” Spain leaned forward to make sure Romano was feeling okay.

“Yeah, somehow I am. I felt as if I could collapse and fall asleep any moment.”

“Ahah. Guess that’s what good food does to you. I’m feeling tired as well.”

He stopped and thought for awhile, trying to compromise something.

“If you want to sleep now, you are welcome to stay here. I still have the guest room.”

He lifted his head at Spain, his eyes dragging him to sleep. “If you say so,” said Romano drowsily.

Spain watched him as he brought himself up from the chair. “You’re not coming? Thought you said you’re tired?”

Antonio replied back with his smile. “I will. Just thought I should clean up the plates and store the leftovers and the ingredients before they gone bad.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want to do. I’ll just head back to bed.”

He left Spain with his cleaning duty and took the stairs. If I remember correctly, the bedroom room should be upstairs on the far corner. His hand moved upwards on the handle as he climbed to the second floor. Once he finally reached the floor, he walked along the corridor leading to the bedroom. Even though Spain’s house remained the same for over the centuries, he noticed the Spaniard has changed drastically the decorations and furniture inside. He noticed he kept some antiques as household decorations.

On the wall, he saw paintings of Spain’s conquistadors, his kings and queens, and his latest country leaders. He stopped on his steps when he caught a glimpse of one painting.

It was Spain on this one. But something about him looked different on the portrait from the usual Antonio he used to know. This Spain was wearing in his conquistador clothing, holding his sword on his hand. Next to him was his national flag pierced onto the ground. The landscape had a river flowing by with forest tress scattered all over. This must have been Spain’s Conquistador Age while he was guiding with his Spanish rulers into the American continent.

His usual, bright smile wasn’t shown on this portrait. He looked serious, determined, and had a dark-look on his face. This wasn’t the Spain that Romano used to know.

But what the heck, it’s not like he wanted for Spain to tell him about his colonization era. It was just Spain never mentioned him on what he did every time he travelled to the outside seas or his journeys through the lands of the New World or the thought of Spain fighting the natives of the American Empire...

His thoughts suddenly snapped; he brought his senses back to reality. His body suddenly became heavier and heavier every minute. He better move faster to the bedroom if he didn’t want to fall asleep on the floor.

Why should I bother thinking over pointless things? I should better go to the bedroom.

The Italian finally reached to the bedroom door and entered as soon as he turned the doorknob open.

There was a sense of familiar atmosphere hanging in the room. The room actually had a bedchamber in it; an exquisite Persian carpet from the Islamic period; the colour of the wallpaper was stained with a bloody maroon texture; and finally the ceiling engraved with golden spiral shapes decorated on its white, soft marble.

It’s been awhile since he visited his old room. It may not be long ago since he was been here but it felt like an eternity.

Romano went to the window and opened wide the two doors wide. The fresh, cool breeze blew gently into the room, making the room temperature pleasant. He then closed the curtain drapes to block the sunray shining through the window. He might as well enjoy his sleep in a dim room.

He hoped under the warm covers of the double-sized bed, cuddled under its sheets, and he dozed off in his sleep. The distant noises of chirping birds and the grasshoppers sang in harmony as the young Italian fell deeply into his unconscious mind, silencing all his senses from the outside world.


Author's Note:
Woah! xD I guess I have to explain some things in this story like translations (since I know many of you don't know Italian and some in Spanish ^^;). I also I have some facts about this story I want to point out. :3

Translations in Italian

"Maledetto a quella brutta e grossa patata! Farò a pezzi a lui e a suoi muscoli schifosi." = "Damn at that ugly and big potato! I'll rip him and his disgusting muscles to pieces." (Pfft. Perfect Italian insults for Romano to describe Ludwig.)

"Fratellino" = "Little brother" (the "-ino" suffix is used to describe someone or something small)

"Cretino" = "Ass" or "Jerk"

"Ho una fame da lupi" = "I have a hunger of wolves" or "I have the wolves' hunger" (This is the literal translation. It basically means that "I'm starving to death")

"Che cavolo?" = "What the hell/fuck?" (cavolo can also mean cabbage xD)

"culi" = "asses" or "butts" (it means same thing in Spanish but spelled "culos" -snorts- :3)

Translations in Spanish

"¡Ah, que emoción!" = "How exciting!" or "What excitement!"

"Hola! Que pasa?" = "Hello/Hi! What's up/What's happening?"

"Santos cielos" = "Dear heavens/Oh my god"

Arañitas = is fried squid/calamaris that were covered with flour/bread crumbs and are fried. They have this "little spider" appearance cuz of their legs and all. ^^

True fact: When me and my family used to eat the arañitas for lunch, me and my dad would usually feel sleepy and it happens all the time. xD That's why I thought it would be amusing if Romano and Spain became sleepy because of them (and the paella as well). x) Funny to mix real experience to a fictional story.

Next part will have sex and something weird and exciting will happen. ;D

Gig from Soul Nomad

(no subject)

Title: A Cupful of Memories
Author: flamefox324
Characters/Pairings: America/England, (mentioning of Canada)
Ratings: G
Warnings: Uhm... Possible grammar mistakes, rusty and uncreative story writing, "wtf" moments xD;;
Summary: Finding a couple of old handmade mugs from his two colonial nations, England began to reminiscence his Imperial days... until America showed up.

It was 11:30 am on a Wednesday.

England sighed heavily as he watched outside the window from his living room. The view wasn’t at all pleasant from what he saw. The rain started to pour down madly; the sky looked grey and gloomy; and the wind began to wail like dying ghosts. He knew very well that the weather forecast mentioned that there would be rain showers but he never knew it would be this darn depressing.

It’s not like he planned any special arrangements today, but it would be nice if he could have some warm, sunny daylight to enjoy, instead of watching an unpleasant climate.

“Hmph. There’s no way in hell I’ll let a simplistic rain into ruining my mood,” said England out loud as he stood away from the window sill and sat onto his armchair. While he sat down, he reached out for a book he was reading and turned to the page where he left out. He silently read his book as the wind howled outside. This somehow set a perfect scary atmosphere since he’s reading one of Stephen King’s books: The Stand. In fact, he actually borrowed this book from America. He hated into admitting things, but this author is extremely superb! He had to say (for America’s author), that his stories were fantastically horrific and ingenious, and England loved it! As for America, he wasn’t fond in scary stories (as usual) and urged into lending his copies of Stephen King’s books to England.

America can be such a baby at times, thought England.


England was taken surprise when a lightning struck down from the sky. He tried to calm himself down as his hand was clutching onto his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding madly from the shock. “Bloody hell,” grunted England as he broke a cold sweat. He felt in need of some warm drink to calm and enjoy his evening with his book. He rose from his armchair and left the room as he walked towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

As he entered, he went to the kitchen counter and took a kettle, filling it with water. He then set aside it and turned the gas on from the stove. He took out a flamer to set the fire and he placed the kettle onto the stove in initiating the boiling of the water. While he was at it, he laid out a tray and placed out all the necessary items he needed for the preparation of his tea.

With everything set, he walked face ward to the wall cabinet and opened the tiny door. In it where all sets of teacups and other fancy chinas. They were in different sizes, shapes, and colours. But that didn’t matter to England. All he wanted were the mugs. If he wanted to want his tea last longer, it was logical enough to use a much bigger drinking cup instead in using a tiny teacup. He searched into the cabinet were he placed the mugs.

While he searched for a suitable mug for him, something caught within his eyesight on the far corner.

A couple of dusty and old handmade mugs were facing him. England looked at them questionably as he grabbed onto both them.

“What the?! What are couple of mangy and old mugs doing in there? Why would I--“. His words were trailed off when he saw tiny words engraved on the bottom of the two mugs. He looked first at the smooth, aquamarine curved mug and read out the elegant cursive handwriting on the side of the mug.

Brother England is the best! Love Canada.

England smiled tenderly as he stroke at the mug, as if he just remembered something. This mug was surely made by Canada but it seemed England sensed he was missing important behind the mug. A faraway memory that was hard for him to grasp on.

His eyes shifted to the second mug. This mug wasn’t at all that elegant as the first one. In fact, it has this bumpy and rough shape and the colour texture looked woody. It has these little drawings of fuzzy animals on it: a white bunny, a squirrel, a grizzly bear, and lastly a deer. Same as the blue mug, there were words written on the mug.

However, the handwriting was unreadable and hard to figure out some of the words. The writing style looked ugly and squiggly. England took his time into figuring out the words. Luckily, it didn’t take him much longer until he understood what it said. He read the words out loud:

Happy B-day England! Wish I could be stronger as you are! Love America.

England began to choke himself after he mouthed out the words. After recovering from the most horrifying and “near-death-experience” from a saliva attack he was choking on (poor England, having hard time breathing for not being able to swallow properly –chuckles-), England went back to the handmade mug from America.

Now England knew what kept bothering him about these mugs. They were made for him, especially for his birthday. Both of them were from Canada and America. He has been wondering why he kept them.

England heaved a huge sigh. Recalling his old times wasn’t the pleasant thing for him. It made him looked old (and also SO tsundere). He set the two mugs back to the counter and messaged his fingertips against his temples, as if he was developing a migraine. Not wanting on letting himself down, he went back on baking some scones. With that decision, he tied his flowery patterned apron around his waist.

The doorbell rang.

England turned his head curiously. He never remembered inviting anyone at this time of the hour. The doorbell rang again.

“I’m coming,” yelled England. He removed his baking mittens and placed them on the table. The number of doorbell rings grew numerous as England approached to the door.

“Be patient, dammit! Didn’t I say I was comin—“. His words were broke off when he opened the door. Right in front of his face was a drenched, grinning young male with bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hey there England! What took you so long in answering the door?”

The Englishman just stood frozen with a shocking expression on his face. The young nation looked back at England, noticing the apron he was wearing.

“Pfft. Nice apron you’re wearing. Hope I’m not interrupting to one of those imaginary friends tea party, aren’t I?”

“A-America?! The bloody hell you’re doing here?!” spattered England.

“Just walking pass by,” answered America innocently.

“There is NO bloody way you could just walk by in front of my house casually. Now bugger off!”

“Cooome ooon, Iggy. Just let me shelter in your house till the showers are over?” America gave out a pouty, baby face.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make that face again. It creeps me out. And make sure you wipe your shoes under the entrance carpet and place your jacket on the clothing rack.”

“Aaaah, you’re so persistent England.” American showed his usual stupid smile as he stepped into the house. He took off his brown jacket and hooked onto the racket. He placed his hands into his jean’s pockets as he wondered aimlessly around the entrance. England was obviously not pleased for America’s constant poking into his things.

“Would you mind stop moving around like a dim-witted duck and just take a darn seat?” grunted England.

“My, aren’t you a very kind host,” said America jokingly. England gritted his teeth with anger as America comfortably sat down on the couch in the living room. An unsettling silent fell upon them.

“Would you like some tea?” asked England. Obviously, he wasn’t trying to be polite or offering anything to America. It’s more like a ‘make-fun-with-me-and-I’ll-kick-your-arse” statement.

“Tea? Seriously, England. Who wanted to drink something that tastes SO tasteless? I rather have something strong like coffee.”

America’s response didn’t helped England’s temper at all. His anger began to boil within him as he mumbled profane words under his breath. He stomped furiously towards the kitchen and went to one of the cabinets were he usually kept the coffee (in case America randomly shows up into his home). At the same time, the kettle was hissing in a high pitch. Forgetting about the water boiling, England rushed to turn off the gas.


America exhaled heavily and looked out of the window frame. He had an obvious reason for him to drop by England’s house unexpectedly: his fears on horror movies. Ever since he was a small child, he would always read horror stories even though England told him not to. Every time he read those books, he would cry with fear and would have trouble sleeping alone. The only solution would have been sleeping with England to help him to feel safe.

Previously, America just watched a horror movie from the cinema. The story took place on a country town were strange things happened during the heavy rain falls. In fact, some people were traumatized mentally after their encounters of a mysterious black creature and after that those occurrences, they were—

America felt a cold shiver travelling down his spine (whether it was the cold weather or the movie, he wasn’t sure). He could feel the goose bumps crawling up onto his skin. Hoping to find some distraction to cheer him up, he looked his nearest surroundings in the living room area. He caught sight of the book on the armchair England was reading. America heaved himself from the couch and peeked at it curiously at the book’s cover.

America moaned. This was the book he lent to England since it was too scary for him to keep it. Just looking at the front cover of the The Stand is enough for him to shriek. He helplessly tossed the book back at the chair.

A sudden thought came up to him. He might as well go to the kitchen and just chill in there for awhile. He straightened his face, not wanting to give the impression to England that he got himself scared again and with that, he moved onward to the kitchen.

America poked his head out of the kitchen’s door to see what England was doing. He could see the Englishman setting up his own tea and taking out a trayful of scones from the oven.

“Hope those scones weren’t meant for me, are they England?”

The Englishman gave himself a jolt and turned around.

“Blimey hell America! Don’t scare me like that!” England’s face began to flush with red.

America snorted. “Geez England. You surely love to use those weird British slang words of yours.” America came out from his hiding spot and stepped into the kitchen, looking around. “Is the coffee done yet?”

“Does it look like its ready?” snarled England.

“What’s with the hold up? I thought you were making me the coffee.”

“Are you THAT daft?! I was busy making these scones! If you don’t want to wait, why don’t you just make the bloody coffee yourself?! The water is still warm. I already placed the filter and coffee out on the counter.”

He looked at the counter where England pointed him at. Sighing in defeat, he unscrewed the coffee container and took a spoonful amount of the brown powder into the filter. With his hand holding the filter, America looked around questionably.

“Hey Arthur. Where you usually keep the mugs?”

“They’re at that wall cabinet.” It seemed England wasn’t paying much attention to him. Knowing trying to draw his attention was useless, America simply moved on to the cabinet.

He reached out for the cabinet’s door and swung it open. His blue eyes traveled aimlessly inside the cabinet, as if there wasn’t really anything in there. He stopped his movements when he saw the two mugs lying on the counter.

“What’s this?” He went for the blue mug and looked at it curiously. England looked back at America to see what he was doing.

“Gah! Put that back America!” England became suddenly panicked. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression to America that he still kept those mugs. America made a strange face at England. He looked back at the mug again.

“Eh? Is this mug from Canada? When did you get it?”

It seemed America was clueless of the other mug. As long as America doesn’t see it, England was fine with that.

“Y-yes, it is! He actually made it for me as a birthday present,” spattered England.

“Eeh? A handmade mug made from Canada? Actually, I’m not at all that surprised. Making handcrafts are for sissy boys.... well, except for you England (even though you do those girly embroideries). You’re too violent and used to be a delinquent, hehe.”

America casually laughed. England, on the other hand, did not find it amusing. He glared bitterly at him. Sensing his glare, America’s laughter was cut off.

“Ah come. I was just kidding. I’ll just put this mug back where it belon—Hey! There’s another crummy-looking mug.”

“A-Alfred! Stop poking around! Leave it!”

Unfortunately, England’s words did not reach to America. For now, America was standing there, holding the brown mug, staring at it.

“Wait a second, England. This mug is also a birthday present for you, but it says it was made by me. I don’t remember doing any dumb handcrafting. But, it looks familiar with those drawings...”

His words stopped. America took his time re-collecting his thoughts. He turned his face at England, his expression looking stunned.

“Wasn’t this from long ago, when I was still a kid?”

England turned his face away from America, flushing with embarrassment. America widened his eyes with surprise.

“Seriously England. These presents are seriously cheap. I mean, I guess I understand why you would keep Canada’s since his is SOO nice-looking, but gezz. Mine’s?! Is someone being a bit TOO attached?”

England looked back at America dangerously. He has gone too far.

“Stop being such a damn prick and shut up already! I kept them because they meant something to me, got it you dumb, snotty-bastard?!” England’s yelling hurt America’s ears. He puffed heavily, trying to control himself. He could feel his throat unrestrained and hurtful for him to swallow.

“S-sorry England. It was just a joke.” America knew his excuse wasn’t good enough in asking forgiveness from England.

“Damn right you’re sorry. You made it mainly for me. You kept on asking back then on what sort of gifts I like and I replied anything from you will do. For Pete’s sake America, I did it for you!”

“F-for me?! It took me awhile on what present I should get for you. I mean.....I thought you wouldn’t like anything that weren’t handmade so I thought I might as well do mugs with Canada, since he was making one and I needed his help and all....”

America has put himself in an awkward situation. He scratched his head and smiled nervously. England gawked at him.

“Seriously Alfred, you should know by now that I don’t care how good or expensive the gifts are. Is the thought that counts. Just don’t give me something vulgar like France does in everyone’s birthdays. Then you’re asking yourself a ticket to ‘kick-in-the-arse’ land.”

This time England laughed all heartedly. America watched him as he was having his own fun time. The young nation let out a sigh of relief and smiled back.

“Yeah. You got a point there.”

Both the blond men spent their time in the kitchen, preparing their hot beverages and eating hot scones (which turned out to burnt, of course). The two men hadn’t realized the rain stopped moments ago as they spent their time together chatting away.


The grandfather clock from the living room struck at 4:00 in the afternoon. The bell’s sound travelled to the kitchen.

“Blimey. Is it really that late? It feels we’ve been here for ages!”

“Haha, yeah. And look, the rain is gone too!”

“Well, you won’t have any problems in getting back to your house, do you America?”

“Eer, yeah.”

Both the two nations rose from the small kitchen table and went to the entrance door. America slowly reached for his jacket from the clothing rack.

“Uhm, well. This is goodbye then,” said America.

“Indeed it is,” replied England.

America slowly went for the doorknob. His hand stopped in midair.

“Erm, England?”

“What is it, Alfred?”

“Can I stay over here tonight?”

“Let me guess... You saw a horror movie.”

“H-how did you know?!”

“Sigh. I know you too well, America. I know you too well.”


Gig from Soul Nomad

(no subject)

Sorry if the writing is too small or unreadable. Dx I re-sized it down from the original size since I thought it was too big. :c Blargh. -fails-