he brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously;
title: Glaring, Staring Dark-Eyed
pairing: Spain/Romano
rating: PG-13
summary: Smiles seem like war to Romano.
☆GLARING, STARING DARK-EYED
Romano was looking at him with glaring dark circles under his eyes as they sat across from one another, and with those dark circles he was blaming him in the kinda way he always did; his hands of useless revenge were lying peaceful ivory on the table, hands for fighting, not taking action against the one person he could win against: Spain. But seemingly not today; Spain gave a little smile between confusion and appeasement, but he wasn't able to will away that paintstreak of little affection that made Romano's soldiers so damn angry.
Little affection, lemon spark; Romano scowled deeper from where he sat but his hands did nothing. Spain laughed, and it was that distinct laugh that laughed at him; he didn't falter and he said, "Why are you so grumpy, Romanito?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking kid," Romano snapped, the words curved off a gray curb; he annexed to that, as an afterthought, not confidently, "-And don't treat me like me like one either." Dark circles from wondering too much about the man before him, his skin and hair, and his strength.
"Mijo, you get silly ideas," Spain answered, slipping his hand over Romano's; "When I laugh, when I talk, it's to you; for you- I'd love to see you smile for me."
His easy laughter was the sound of the cherry smoke that slipped between them and blurred anything beyond feeling. Though Romano could only do it with glares and fists and acid tongue, Spain more than made up for his lacking, that smile was like a mirror tattoo on Romano's eyes.
Romano gave a haughty "tch," he thought as his eyes turned, Your smiles are like warfare.
NOTES;;
Thanks for reading! :D
pairing: Spain/Romano
rating: PG-13
summary: Smiles seem like war to Romano.
☆GLARING, STARING DARK-EYED
Romano was looking at him with glaring dark circles under his eyes as they sat across from one another, and with those dark circles he was blaming him in the kinda way he always did; his hands of useless revenge were lying peaceful ivory on the table, hands for fighting, not taking action against the one person he could win against: Spain. But seemingly not today; Spain gave a little smile between confusion and appeasement, but he wasn't able to will away that paintstreak of little affection that made Romano's soldiers so damn angry.
Little affection, lemon spark; Romano scowled deeper from where he sat but his hands did nothing. Spain laughed, and it was that distinct laugh that laughed at him; he didn't falter and he said, "Why are you so grumpy, Romanito?"
"Don't talk to me like I'm a fucking kid," Romano snapped, the words curved off a gray curb; he annexed to that, as an afterthought, not confidently, "-And don't treat me like me like one either." Dark circles from wondering too much about the man before him, his skin and hair, and his strength.
"Mijo, you get silly ideas," Spain answered, slipping his hand over Romano's; "When I laugh, when I talk, it's to you; for you- I'd love to see you smile for me."
His easy laughter was the sound of the cherry smoke that slipped between them and blurred anything beyond feeling. Though Romano could only do it with glares and fists and acid tongue, Spain more than made up for his lacking, that smile was like a mirror tattoo on Romano's eyes.
Romano gave a haughty "tch," he thought as his eyes turned, Your smiles are like warfare.
NOTES;;
Thanks for reading! :D