itaromano:

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

Romano relaxed as soon as Antonio responded to the kiss. He was half worried that the other would slap him or push him away. The fact that he was kissing him back was all the proof Romano needed to know that he won. He wrapped his arms around the Spaniard, kissing him and pulling him close until his breathing was ragged. He pulled away slowly, just far enough to see Antonio’s eyes. “Ti amo, idiota…” He mumbled, kissing his cheeks and his lips again. This kiss was brief and chaste, lasting only moments before he pulled away again, sighing softly.

“You know how fucking stubborn I am, Antonio.” Romano mumbled softly. “I’m not going anywhere. They tried to make me disappear and I came back because I’m Italia, too. I’m getting stronger again.” He assured him, smiling just a little. “So have faith in me, okay?”

He knew that, he knows how stubborn the Italian can be especially if he is really determined to get what he wants, he experiment it firsthand anyway. However this will probably the first the he appreciate his stubbornness that whatever he says (or lie) Romano won’t give up, he won’t give up the Spaniard even if the Spaniard is ready to. Antonio is too thankful for the hard headedness the Italian posses that he snap back to reality or realize how cruel it was for him to reject Romano even if he really want him in his arms.

Even if the last kiss was chaste and brief, Antonio can still feel the warmth the other’s lips feels, the lingering feeling of being loved…again, be him…again. The Spaniard can just die from both happiness and anxiousness he feels. “Si…I know” he answered in a  hushed tone, looking back at the Italian’s eyes that even until now he’s still afraid to look at it. “I’ll try…” Because even if he gives in to the other, the Spanish man still can’t shake off that fear of losing him again no matter how firm Romano is. 

“Jerk.” Romano mumbled again, laying himself practically on top of the Spaniard. “Tell me you love me, bastard. I’ve waited too many years to hear it.” He demanded, leaning down and running his fingers through Antonio’s hair, pulling his head close and bringing their lips together again. 

Romano hated cheesy things. He hated being sappy. But kissing Antonio made him feel like every sappy love scene he had ever seen. He felt like he was melting, like there were fireworks. He had kissed Antonio before this twice already, but it was still as electrifying. His fingers tightened in Antonio’s curly hair, holding him closer. It felt comforting, it felt like he belonged there, at that moment. The same feeling washed over him when he was home in his bed. He felt like he really just belonged with Antonio at the moment, wrapped in his arms, inhaling the scent of Spain. The thick smell of tomatoes, mandarin oranges, the crisp sunlight and earthy farmland. He wanted to devour the scent. He wanted to kiss Antonio until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

He finally pulled away, breathless and flushed. He shifted his weight off of Antonio and moved down next to him, “I’ll be right here… I’ll be right here and we can fall asleep together. You’re going to get some fucking sleep, alright? I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.” He wrapped an arm around Antonio, moving close to him and finding his hand. He laced their fingers together and rested his head against Antonio’s arm. 

He resigned and gave in to that kiss, such warm and soft yet passionate kiss the Italian gave him. He can just live with just kissing him and holding him like this. He never though he would see this aggressive and sappy side of Romano. All this time he thought he could never taste those sweet lips again, hold and touch his beautiful body. The Spaniard pulls the other and pressing Romano closer to him as he kisses back, moving his lips in synch with the other’s as his hands wandered around the Italian’s back. How he wanted to kiss him all day/night to make up for the lost time and the past years. He loves him and that feeling will never go away no matter how hard he tries or if he would try again.

With flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes, Antonio was in a daze after Romano pulls away from him. It was like waking up to a dream from another dream. The feeling was surreal and amazing. It was meant to be, they are meant to be together no matter what the obstacles is thrown at them. “Te quiero” he whispered as he tightens his fingers around Romano and gives it a small peck. He turns to his side and curls his arms, where Romano’s head is lying, around so he can stroke the other’s hair. “Gracias” he whispered shakily and leans down to kiss Romano’s forehead again. It seems like he’ll have some sleep tonight, a wonderful sleep indeed.

itaromano:

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

Romano grumbled, wincing and trying to grab the warm pillow again. He frowned as Antonio was bothering him to get up. “Five more minutes per favore….” He whined, grabbing the pillow and burying his face into it. A few seconds passed before he realized he would probably suffocate himself by doing that, so he pulled away. 

He sat up a little, frowning at Antonio and then blushing, trying to ignore that they had slept in the same bed. They were just friends, they did it as kids, there was nothing odd about it…

“What time is it?” He mumbled, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He blinked a few times, looking around for a clock. He winced, “Ugh… I don’t want to deal with Nonno today…” He whined, slowly climbing out of bed, combing his fingers through his messy hair.

“Its pass 9 in the morning already” Antonio answered after glancing at his clock as he stretches and cracks his back before climbing off to proceed to his small bathroom casually. “Don’t worry you still have a lot of time before I walk you back to your house so you and your grandfather can talk and straight things out.” Antonio said before washing his face and does his morning ‘rituals’ after that. After fixing himself and walking out his bathroom he beckoned the Italian to fix himself as well. It’s pretty late for breakfast yet too early for lunch so Antonio lies on his bed again and opens his television. Even with a small space, Antonio makes sure that his room is clean and clutter free. He’s able to fit a television, a drawer and a closet. “If you want I can hold your hands while you talk to the old man?” he teased as he skip through many channels to find a good program.

Romano fixed himself up in the bathroom and walked out, still in the pajamas Antonio lent him. “Oh shut up. I can deal with the old man yelling at me a bit more.” he muttered, shuffling through his bag and dumping out a few things to grab his clothes. He sighed, changing into his clean clothes and brushing himself off. “Although, just warning you, he’s probably going to have a few choice words for you, too, but I’ll try to dull him down, first.” 

He reached down, shoving a few things back into his bag but pausing when he was about to put away his small sketchbook. It was something he had liked when he was younger. Of course, Feliciano was a lot better than he was, but he found it helped him remember. It helped him calm down when he was thinking about his parents or his childhood. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bed and chewing on the end of his pencil, staring at the blank paper. “Hey, Antonio, what do you remember about my parents? Do you remember what they looked like at all?”

“Don’t worry about me, I kinda expect that will happen besides it’s not like this is the first time your grandfather will…is mad at me” Antonio said, glancing at the Italian near the bathroom door and watches him until he settles down to the floor and shoves things inside his bag and took out some. He was partly curious on what Romano took from his bag that he leaned over and sneak. He was surprise to see a sketch book and some pencils. The Spaniard always knew that the Italian do have this passion for art and that the both of them really liked painting or just sketching but Romano would usually get angry with him and sometimes bites his hands every time he touches the precious sketchbook, Romano was very determined not to show his art from back then.

A long pause accompanies Antonio’s stare as the Italian asks him about his parents. On the outside it would look like the senior is just staring and, maybe, thinking about the question but on the inside he is actually panicking, he would prefer if Romano and his grandfather will have a serious talk so that the old man will be the one to explain it to Romano. Although the question is really harmless since the other is just asking a physical description of his parents, considering him taking out a sketchbook Antonio assumed he’d like to draw his parents. He rolled over the bed and stares at the ceiling, with the TV making noises, he closes his eyes and tries to remember.

“I don’t remember that much, but I know your mom is beautiful. She has the most mesmerizing eyes I’ve ever seen! No wonder you father fell for her. She’s kind of a klutz and very, very hot tempered, she’s one heck of a stubborn yet determined lady… much like you, except for the lady part. And I think, if my memory serves me right, you have the same eyes as your mother…captivating eyes. As for your father, I think he’s the most understanding man on earth…well I thought it was that…but I really can’t remember. I remember much of your mom than your dad”