Family Ties [Part 32]
Apr. 6th, 2010 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Spain, Romano, WDF and Portugal
Rating: 15
Warnings: Madness, me getting back into the swing of perspective writing.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
The villa was quiet. This was probably the most disturbing thing.
He'd not come late enough for Spain to be in bed already. If memory served Romano, and it usually did, his old Boss wouldn't hit the hay for another three hours or so. Right now, there should have been a cheerfully hummed tune wafting from the kitchen, with the smell of some late night snacks. Maybe the stereo playing some rhythmic acoustic guitar, Spain making up some sort of random song to go with it.
But no. There was nothing.
Romano pushed on the door, fighting back the urge to run. He had to check. God only knew what that stupid bastard had gone and done to himself. Maybe he'd tripped on a turtle and knocked himself out. Yeah, that had to be it. Stupid Spain.
Portugal joining the war was no reason to get all upset and storm off when he'd gone to the trouble to rearranging to have dinner the second time.
"Spain?" He called, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the hall lights. "Hey bastard, you in?" No response. Passing by the living room, he was surprised to see all the pillows in disarray. One was even on top of the TV. Spain was actually a relatively tidy person, and they all looked tossed about like a small child had been allowed to run rampant. Romano swallowed fear.
"Spain?" He peeked in the kitchen, which looked untouched. Also weird. "H-hey, you bastard, this isn't funny."
Something moved upstairs.
Dread settled in the pit of South Italy's stomach as he ascended the staircase. The upstairs hallway was just as dim. Spain's bedroom door was open.
"... Spain?"
A pillow sailed out of the door and hit the wall with a soft thud and a poof of feathers. Romano stilled his breathing, crushing his fleeing instinct and the memories of the last time they'd ended up in this situation.
"Boss, it's me. Don't be an idiot." he carefully leaned round to look into the bedroom.
The room was trashed. Bedsheets were everywhere, ripped in places. The shutters were half open and one of them seemed to have had the slats broken off, leaving moonlight to illuminate the room. The lamp on the dresser was on it's side and dangerously close to rocking off the edge. The mirror above it was shattered.
"Lovi..."
Spain was slumped against the wall in the corner, hands gripping each side of his head. Romano crept closer, making sure Spain had nothing within reach to hurt anyone with.
"What's happened to you, you moron..." he asked quietly, kneeling down next to him. The Spaniard curled up a little more.
"I... I'm splitting again, Lovi." his voice was hoarse but cheerful in a way it really shouldn't in this sort of context. The only thing echoing in Romano's mind was 'conquista, civil war, inquisition'. "There's so many... I want to fight but I don't. I want to help Gabi but I want to help Francis, but I want to stay neutral, but I need to help someone and I'm splitting, Lovi!"
Spain's fingers were digging in to his head in a worrying way, forcing Romano to pry them off and hold onto them himself. The Iberian Nation rocked forward, resting his head on South Italy's shoulder.
"Stupid, stupid brother, going off to fight when he'll get killed. I hate him. I hate him, he's dragging me into this. I'll help the NWO instead..." he growled, then switched. "No, brother, don't, please, why won't he listen, he's even talked Brazil in and now some of mine want to and I have to go with him and save him..." Romano kept a firm hold on his hands. "If I shelter everyone that doesn't want to fight, would that save us? No, that's cowardice. I can't. I can. I can't!"
"Shut up, idiot." Romano muttered. Spain smelled of spice and tomatoes and sunlight, and salt and iron and blood. "You're babbling and that won't make things better."
Antonio drew in a shuddering breath. "Lovi, why can I never agree with myself?"
Lovino sighed. "You're the country of passion; getting fired up is what you do."
"All of me? For different reasons?"
"I never said it made sense." Romano grumbled, glancing around. "What happened to your rosary?"
"Broke it trying to pray."
A few beads gleamed in the moonlight over by the window. "Stupid." Lovino muttered, letting one of Spain's hands go and reaching around his own neck, pressing his personal prayer beads into the Spaniard's hands. "I'll teach you how again."
---
Wales wondered how this must look from America's perspective.
It wasn't very often that the former colony got to see England when he got like this. England was aware of his reaction of Portugal's presence, and generally tried to keep any and all meetings a secret.
Or maybe it was Portugal's reaction to him that he didn't want anyone to see.
"Did you know that your blush always starts right in the middle of your cheeks?" Portugal cooed, half teasing. True enough, the blush blossomed from exactly where he'd pointed out, a fact Wales hadn't noticed in the full 2000 years he'd known his brother.
"Gabriel, not now!" England hissed, as Ireland giggled behind her hand at him and America stared with some kind of strange look between fascination and jealousy in his eyes. "Can you just tell us when you're going to arrive at headquarters already so we can brief you proper?"
"You can brief me any time, amor."
"I certainly could-" England caught himself, but Ireland was already wolf whistling. Canada snickered as England went as bright red as the roses he loved so much. America's expression was opting for disturbed now. Wales half-wished he had a camera. "I mean... oh sod it. Just get over here ASAP."
"Will do! Adeus!" The link ended with Brazil reaching over and rolling his eyes. England sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"Artie and Gabby, sitting in a tree~!" Ireland sang, grinning like a cat. Wales bit the inside of his cheek to prevent the escape of laughter. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Oh don't be so juvenile!" England snapped. America raised his hand.
"Question. How long has this been going on?"
England sniffed. "700 years or so now."
That strange look returned to America's eyes. Wales wasn't sure if there was something he could really define it as; a mix between curiosity, disturbed fascination and jealousy. "... damn you're old." he said finally.
"Yes, thank you for that, America." England grumped, face still red. "Aine, stop giggling and bring up the map. Portugal said he could bring in more than just Brazil if given time."
"You're not the boss of me." she stuck her tongue out, but did it anyway. "What do you reckon, will he drag in Peru or Chile or someone?"
"Don't use the word 'drag', they'll come only if they want to."
"That's what she said." America interjected, and Wales couldn't hold back the slightly immature laugh that time. Ireland was lost to giggles and Canada phased back into everyone's attention by breaking down into laughter, all the worried tension from earlier released in sniggers. England threw up his hands, standing up out of his chair and causing America to smirk triumphantly. Had he just done that so he could prove he could make England go just as red in the face as Portugal? From the smug expression, Wales supposed yes.
"I call a tea break! Honestly, it's like dealing with six year olds!"
Notes:
- Conquista, the Spanish Inquisition and Spanish Civil War numero uno and numero dos, aka the bigger one. - Spain has a big tendency to go a little... doolally. Nuts. Insane. Spain, darlin', I love ya, but you're just not all that stable.
- I am extremely tired. Please excuse mistakes that I will not see until after I have slept. <3
Part 33
Characters (in this chapter): Spain, Romano, WDF and Portugal
Rating: 15
Warnings: Madness, me getting back into the swing of perspective writing.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
The villa was quiet. This was probably the most disturbing thing.
He'd not come late enough for Spain to be in bed already. If memory served Romano, and it usually did, his old Boss wouldn't hit the hay for another three hours or so. Right now, there should have been a cheerfully hummed tune wafting from the kitchen, with the smell of some late night snacks. Maybe the stereo playing some rhythmic acoustic guitar, Spain making up some sort of random song to go with it.
But no. There was nothing.
Romano pushed on the door, fighting back the urge to run. He had to check. God only knew what that stupid bastard had gone and done to himself. Maybe he'd tripped on a turtle and knocked himself out. Yeah, that had to be it. Stupid Spain.
Portugal joining the war was no reason to get all upset and storm off when he'd gone to the trouble to rearranging to have dinner the second time.
"Spain?" He called, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the hall lights. "Hey bastard, you in?" No response. Passing by the living room, he was surprised to see all the pillows in disarray. One was even on top of the TV. Spain was actually a relatively tidy person, and they all looked tossed about like a small child had been allowed to run rampant. Romano swallowed fear.
"Spain?" He peeked in the kitchen, which looked untouched. Also weird. "H-hey, you bastard, this isn't funny."
Something moved upstairs.
Dread settled in the pit of South Italy's stomach as he ascended the staircase. The upstairs hallway was just as dim. Spain's bedroom door was open.
"... Spain?"
A pillow sailed out of the door and hit the wall with a soft thud and a poof of feathers. Romano stilled his breathing, crushing his fleeing instinct and the memories of the last time they'd ended up in this situation.
"Boss, it's me. Don't be an idiot." he carefully leaned round to look into the bedroom.
The room was trashed. Bedsheets were everywhere, ripped in places. The shutters were half open and one of them seemed to have had the slats broken off, leaving moonlight to illuminate the room. The lamp on the dresser was on it's side and dangerously close to rocking off the edge. The mirror above it was shattered.
"Lovi..."
Spain was slumped against the wall in the corner, hands gripping each side of his head. Romano crept closer, making sure Spain had nothing within reach to hurt anyone with.
"What's happened to you, you moron..." he asked quietly, kneeling down next to him. The Spaniard curled up a little more.
"I... I'm splitting again, Lovi." his voice was hoarse but cheerful in a way it really shouldn't in this sort of context. The only thing echoing in Romano's mind was 'conquista, civil war, inquisition'. "There's so many... I want to fight but I don't. I want to help Gabi but I want to help Francis, but I want to stay neutral, but I need to help someone and I'm splitting, Lovi!"
Spain's fingers were digging in to his head in a worrying way, forcing Romano to pry them off and hold onto them himself. The Iberian Nation rocked forward, resting his head on South Italy's shoulder.
"Stupid, stupid brother, going off to fight when he'll get killed. I hate him. I hate him, he's dragging me into this. I'll help the NWO instead..." he growled, then switched. "No, brother, don't, please, why won't he listen, he's even talked Brazil in and now some of mine want to and I have to go with him and save him..." Romano kept a firm hold on his hands. "If I shelter everyone that doesn't want to fight, would that save us? No, that's cowardice. I can't. I can. I can't!"
"Shut up, idiot." Romano muttered. Spain smelled of spice and tomatoes and sunlight, and salt and iron and blood. "You're babbling and that won't make things better."
Antonio drew in a shuddering breath. "Lovi, why can I never agree with myself?"
Lovino sighed. "You're the country of passion; getting fired up is what you do."
"All of me? For different reasons?"
"I never said it made sense." Romano grumbled, glancing around. "What happened to your rosary?"
"Broke it trying to pray."
A few beads gleamed in the moonlight over by the window. "Stupid." Lovino muttered, letting one of Spain's hands go and reaching around his own neck, pressing his personal prayer beads into the Spaniard's hands. "I'll teach you how again."
---
Wales wondered how this must look from America's perspective.
It wasn't very often that the former colony got to see England when he got like this. England was aware of his reaction of Portugal's presence, and generally tried to keep any and all meetings a secret.
Or maybe it was Portugal's reaction to him that he didn't want anyone to see.
"Did you know that your blush always starts right in the middle of your cheeks?" Portugal cooed, half teasing. True enough, the blush blossomed from exactly where he'd pointed out, a fact Wales hadn't noticed in the full 2000 years he'd known his brother.
"Gabriel, not now!" England hissed, as Ireland giggled behind her hand at him and America stared with some kind of strange look between fascination and jealousy in his eyes. "Can you just tell us when you're going to arrive at headquarters already so we can brief you proper?"
"You can brief me any time, amor."
"I certainly could-" England caught himself, but Ireland was already wolf whistling. Canada snickered as England went as bright red as the roses he loved so much. America's expression was opting for disturbed now. Wales half-wished he had a camera. "I mean... oh sod it. Just get over here ASAP."
"Will do! Adeus!" The link ended with Brazil reaching over and rolling his eyes. England sat back in his chair with a sigh.
"Artie and Gabby, sitting in a tree~!" Ireland sang, grinning like a cat. Wales bit the inside of his cheek to prevent the escape of laughter. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
"Oh don't be so juvenile!" England snapped. America raised his hand.
"Question. How long has this been going on?"
England sniffed. "700 years or so now."
That strange look returned to America's eyes. Wales wasn't sure if there was something he could really define it as; a mix between curiosity, disturbed fascination and jealousy. "... damn you're old." he said finally.
"Yes, thank you for that, America." England grumped, face still red. "Aine, stop giggling and bring up the map. Portugal said he could bring in more than just Brazil if given time."
"You're not the boss of me." she stuck her tongue out, but did it anyway. "What do you reckon, will he drag in Peru or Chile or someone?"
"Don't use the word 'drag', they'll come only if they want to."
"That's what she said." America interjected, and Wales couldn't hold back the slightly immature laugh that time. Ireland was lost to giggles and Canada phased back into everyone's attention by breaking down into laughter, all the worried tension from earlier released in sniggers. England threw up his hands, standing up out of his chair and causing America to smirk triumphantly. Had he just done that so he could prove he could make England go just as red in the face as Portugal? From the smug expression, Wales supposed yes.
"I call a tea break! Honestly, it's like dealing with six year olds!"
Notes:
- Conquista, the Spanish Inquisition and Spanish Civil War numero uno and numero dos, aka the bigger one. - Spain has a big tendency to go a little... doolally. Nuts. Insane. Spain, darlin', I love ya, but you're just not all that stable.
- I am extremely tired. Please excuse mistakes that I will not see until after I have slept. <3
Part 33
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-06 10:45 pm (UTC)Oh you poor baby.
DON'T GO BATSHIT, NOT AGAIN!
PLEASE.
oh Iggy, you're so adorable! God I love those two together. ♥ And for some reason jealous!America is oddly endearing.
Question: how do you pronounce Ireland's name?
no subject
Date: 2010-04-06 10:49 pm (UTC)"Oh you're having a world war? Sorry, can't join you, too busy having a mental breakdown."
Hehehe such a dork in front of his hubby. <3 Jealous!America is also dorky.
"Anya", but with an Irish accent, so it's more like "Awn-ya". Left it in a note in the last chapter update. <3
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 01:17 am (UTC)Spain just can't get his shit together, it seems.
Ffffffu-- I just realized I missed the last few paragraphs. Whuuut. OH, AMERICA. DON'T WORRY, I CRACK THOSE JOKES ALL THE TIME TOO. Six year olds indeed.
Gaaaaaaah how did I miss that?! Okay good now I know. I can stop pronouncing it 'Ah-een' in my head. Yikes...
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 04:00 pm (UTC)You didn't actually miss them. I felt like it was a weak ending and I wanted to add more so I did. <3
S'cool, I always go back and add things. I didn't add the Aine note until a day after I posted the fic.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 04:10 pm (UTC)Ff-ffffff, dude, stop making me flip out! I went back to re-read and I was like, WOAH HOW DID I MISS ALL THAT.
orz
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 04:16 pm (UTC)I'M SO SORRY MAN I'M JUST A HUGE PERFECTIONIST. D8
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 02:12 am (UTC)I asked my question about pairings too early, it seems. OH ENGLAND, WHY SO ADORABLE?! Ahahahaha. xD America made me laugh too.
Poor Spain. :/ He needs to join WDF and just follow his brother since they're side by side and can provide each other with support. Contrary to popular belief, Spain is actually a very fragmented country. There are a crapload of different cultures, nationalities, religions, etc. who all live in Spain. It's different than everyone just being different races, like in America, Canada, Argentina, Chile, Brazil, etc. who are made up of immigrants but share a base, similar culture and viewpoint on the world (even if that culture and viewpoint is a culture and viewpoint that allows for other cultures and viewpoints... yeah getting a little off-topic here). I think this is why, historically, Spain is indecisive in joining war when he/his colony isn't being invaded.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 03:34 pm (UTC)Poor Spaaaaain, his people are split on deciding again. <3 You make excellent points. Amusingly enough, I know little to nothing about Spanish culture. I'm just going on how history likes to repeat itself. But yeah. What you said. ^^;;
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 04:05 am (UTC)And omg England. YOUR DERE-DERE. IT'S SHOWING. XD Of course Port is equally buhyooo around him so that doesn't help. He knows him so well. The Romantics make such interesting in-laws haha. I love Ireland's reactions omg. She's such a tease. And Brazil's "...ugh daaaad" face. Poor England, I bet he wishes he were having this conversation with Port in private orz. XD
jealous!America is always so much love omg. Yessssss. He's so adorkable and triumphant and why do I see him inadvertently challenging Portugal to a competition for England's attention the moment he arrives? orz And Wales sees all but Port doesn't notice and England's too busy ;dlfkf'ING. TEA BREAK. <3
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 03:41 pm (UTC)HE CAN'T HIDE THE LOOOOOVE. Ireland is greatly enjoying seeing Mr Stoic himself go all blushy like a schoolgirl.
You know, since he was a dick to her for like everOh yes, the Romantics are the quirky in-laws that everyone invites to the party because they will be the ones with all the best music, food, stories and gossip. I bet he was wishing he could do a lot of things in private with Port ohoho.He has no idea he's even jealous, poor dear. America, you suck at reading the atmosphere so bad that you don't even notice your own feelings. Wales sees all and knows all and WHEN IN A TIME OF CRISIS, CALL A TEA BREAK.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 09:56 am (UTC)....This is the second time I blame you for kickstarting a pairing love. Love the rosary bit...Ah America, someone else got England's attention~~ Is this the same concept as when you sibling starts getting cuddly with their boyfriend/girlfriend right in front of you? 'I don't even wanna thinki about that thanks!'
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 03:43 pm (UTC)akhfskdjh thank you <3Haha he's such a kid. "But making him get all red faced and flustered is my job! D8"
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 04:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 05:21 pm (UTC)Pfft. Portugal and England's interactions are hilarious. And so is Ireland's teasing.
hee hee. That's what she said jokes Never get old.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 05:28 pm (UTC)Hahaha England and Portugal are just amusingness incarnate. <3 So much love.
NEVER. OLD. NOT EVEN 10 YEARS INTO THE FUTURE.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-10 06:35 pm (UTC)Have I mentioned that jealous!America is very amusing?
I would make those jokes all the time if my friends didn't yell 'Pervert' every time, if they DO get it T_T.
I honestly wish we were of age already so they can deal with it and actually LAUGH goddammit.