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Fandom: Hetalia
Pairings: Eventual Spamano and GerIta with slight USUK.
Rating: T (For Romano's Mouth)

Hetalia never has been and never will be owned by me. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Chapter 2- Excuses, excuses.
"Ve~ Welcome back, Fratello!" His brother chirped, bouncing into the hallway to hug his brother. "You're all wet, what happened? I thought you were going to your doctor's?"
"Oh, yeah. Well, you see..." Romano trailed off, suddenly annoyed at himself. He'd forgotten his excuse! What was it again...?
"Your eyes are red, Roma. Did you get something in them?" Spain wondered, wandering into the room to give him a hug as well. Romano smiled a bit inside, mentally thanking Antonio of reminding him of his alibi.
"Yeah, that's right. I got something in my eye, and my shirt's wet cuz I was trying to wash it out of my eye. But it's all good now. I got it out. So, stop looking at me." Spain laughed a little to himself, and hugged him one more time. Then, he dragged Romano into the kitchen with him while Feliciano went to go put his coat away.
"So, Roma." Spain said, handing the Italian man a freshly washed tomato, picked straight from his personal garden. "What did your doctor say, hm?" Romano froze, holding the tomato to his lips in mid-bite. His cautious eyes slowly looking into the Spaniard's curious ones. He felt his hands begin to shake as he realized he never came up with a fake doctor's report. What would she have said? What did I go there for again? Let me see, it was...
"Roma? Your checkup. How did it go?" Spain asked, sounding a bit concerned. Romano didn't normally freeze up like that, unless he was caught off-guard. But that's silly. He thought to himself, watching Roman's face contort in subtle confusion and desperation. He knew I would want to know what his doctor said, right?
"Oh, yeah. Well, she said that... everything was fine... but..." Come on Lovino, think! What's something believable? "but... she said that... my mental state was unhealthy and I need to be outside more and crap like that."
"Isn't that normally something a psychologist would say?"
Oh. Yeah. Shit.
"Well, you see..." Romano said, mentally scrambling for something to say. When did I get this bad at lying?! Just last week I was convincing Feliciano that if he didn't eat more than pasta, he would turn into a box of angel hair! And now here I am, pathetically failing at creating a fake doctor's result! Come. On. I know you can do this! Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to try again.
But he couldn't think of anything.
He felt his face heat up as he watched Antonio's face change to look worried and then, to his horror, slightly suspicious. Spain opened his mouth to say something, and Romano felt all his hope drain right out of him. Well, this is it. He's going to ask, and I won't be able to help myself. I'll tell him. He'll panic and try to find some way to stop or at least delay it. Then it'll just be even more painful for me when it actually happens.
But it never happened.
To Romano's relief, and slight annoyance, Feli chose that exact moment to skip in, singing a little song about rotini, and guide his brother to the kitchen table of Spain's house, gibbering about having invited Germany and Prussia to dinner. Romano sighed and sullenly slid into the chair his peppy brother led him to. Looking around the table, he noticed that Germany and Prussia were indeed there. Germany was asking Feli something about his chair and moving it back and forth. It was probably squeaking, judging by the fact that Italy left the room and came back with another one. Prussia, on the other hand, was saying something loudly to Spain and rolling bits of his roll into little balls. Romano rolled his eyes. Prussia always did this with Italian bread. He claimed it 'tasted better smushed' and had then proceeded to force Romano to try it to prove his point.
It had just tasted like slightly dirty, flat table bread.
"So, How's everything going over in good old Deutschland?" Spain asked, spinning his pasta around his fork and looking over at the two Germanics. Germany went to wipe his mouth before he spoke, which gave Prussia the opportunity to interject with his opinions.
"You know what?" He started. "I think West has been spending too much time by himself with his paperwork and such. Honestly, It's like he's lonely or something." Germany sighed and set his napkin down.
"Bruder... I have a lot of paperwork. And work can't wait." He scolded, giving Prussia a stern look. "As for the country, it's doing surprisingly alright, judging on the amount of time I spend away from it."
"Sorry, Doitsu. But you know how much I hate the rain! I can't sleep on stormy nights! Besides, it's so lonely at home..."
Normally, this would be where Romano would interject with some comment about him finding it disgusting that Feli and Germany shared the same bed almost frequently. Today, however, his mind was anywhere but the dinner table. He silently pushed his pasta around the plate, even though Spain had made his favorite recipe, Bolognese with diced tomatoes and extra cheese, with a few small meatballs mixed into the sauce. He just didn't have the stomach for food at the moment. He was trying to make a mental checklist for his last few days. Watching Feli reach across the table and steal a small piece of tomato from Germany's plate, he ran through it again.
Romano's Checklist of Last Activities:
1. Buy a giant tomato and see how much of it I can eat before I feel sick.
2. Finally teach that German bastardo a lesson he'll never forget.
3. Try to make Feli try to not be so happy-go-lucky all the time.
4. Write a will or something.
5. Tell Antonio how I feel.
6. Throw up in trashcan after talking to Antonio.
7. Probably buy some fucking tums or something to help with the barfing.
8. Buy Feli a cat.
9. And finally, make sure I go with no one else around.
"What do you think, Lovino?" Spain asked, turning to him. Startled, Romano's head jerked up, realizing he hadn't been listening. He noticed everyone was looking at him, even Germany. Whatever it was, it had probably been an opinion question, and their opinions were usually different from his, so he went with a relatively safe answer.
"Not really." He said, glancing back down to his plate. Spain raised one eyebrow.
"Really? But I thought you would like your walls to be yellow instead of brown." Pleased with himself for accidentally answering truthfully, Romano shook his head.
"I hate the color yellow. The only place that color belongs is on cheese, pasta, and some breads. Anywhere else is horrid."
"If you say so, Lovi." Spain sighed, turning back to the meal. Of course, Romano thought, going back to picking halfheartedly at his portion. It won't matter. I'll be dead in a week anyway.
As he popped a bit of bread in his mouth, trying to look normal, he felt an unusual dizzy spell settle over him that forced him to grab the table to stay upright.
Maybe sooner.
End of Chapter Two

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Fandom: Hetalia
Pairings: Eventual Spamano and GerIta with slight USUK.
Rating: T (For Romano's Mouth)

Hetalia never has been and never will be owned by me. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Chapter 2- Excuses, excuses.
"Ve~ Welcome back, Fratello!" His brother chirped, bouncing into the hallway to hug his brother. "You're all wet, what happened? I thought you were going to your doctor's?"
"Oh, yeah. Well, you see..." Romano trailed off, suddenly annoyed at himself. He'd forgotten his excuse! What was it again...?
"Your eyes are red, Roma. Did you get something in them?" Spain wondered, wandering into the room to give him a hug as well. Romano smiled a bit inside, mentally thanking Antonio of reminding him of his alibi.
"Yeah, that's right. I got something in my eye, and my shirt's wet cuz I was trying to wash it out of my eye. But it's all good now. I got it out. So, stop looking at me." Spain laughed a little to himself, and hugged him one more time. Then, he dragged Romano into the kitchen with him while Feliciano went to go put his coat away.
"So, Roma." Spain said, handing the Italian man a freshly washed tomato, picked straight from his personal garden. "What did your doctor say, hm?" Romano froze, holding the tomato to his lips in mid-bite. His cautious eyes slowly looking into the Spaniard's curious ones. He felt his hands begin to shake as he realized he never came up with a fake doctor's report. What would she have said? What did I go there for again? Let me see, it was...
"Roma? Your checkup. How did it go?" Spain asked, sounding a bit concerned. Romano didn't normally freeze up like that, unless he was caught off-guard. But that's silly. He thought to himself, watching Roman's face contort in subtle confusion and desperation. He knew I would want to know what his doctor said, right?
"Oh, yeah. Well, she said that... everything was fine... but..." Come on Lovino, think! What's something believable? "but... she said that... my mental state was unhealthy and I need to be outside more and crap like that."
"Isn't that normally something a psychologist would say?"
Oh. Yeah. Shit.
"Well, you see..." Romano said, mentally scrambling for something to say. When did I get this bad at lying?! Just last week I was convincing Feliciano that if he didn't eat more than pasta, he would turn into a box of angel hair! And now here I am, pathetically failing at creating a fake doctor's result! Come. On. I know you can do this! Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to try again.
But he couldn't think of anything.
He felt his face heat up as he watched Antonio's face change to look worried and then, to his horror, slightly suspicious. Spain opened his mouth to say something, and Romano felt all his hope drain right out of him. Well, this is it. He's going to ask, and I won't be able to help myself. I'll tell him. He'll panic and try to find some way to stop or at least delay it. Then it'll just be even more painful for me when it actually happens.
But it never happened.
To Romano's relief, and slight annoyance, Feli chose that exact moment to skip in, singing a little song about rotini, and guide his brother to the kitchen table of Spain's house, gibbering about having invited Germany and Prussia to dinner. Romano sighed and sullenly slid into the chair his peppy brother led him to. Looking around the table, he noticed that Germany and Prussia were indeed there. Germany was asking Feli something about his chair and moving it back and forth. It was probably squeaking, judging by the fact that Italy left the room and came back with another one. Prussia, on the other hand, was saying something loudly to Spain and rolling bits of his roll into little balls. Romano rolled his eyes. Prussia always did this with Italian bread. He claimed it 'tasted better smushed' and had then proceeded to force Romano to try it to prove his point.
It had just tasted like slightly dirty, flat table bread.
"So, How's everything going over in good old Deutschland?" Spain asked, spinning his pasta around his fork and looking over at the two Germanics. Germany went to wipe his mouth before he spoke, which gave Prussia the opportunity to interject with his opinions.
"You know what?" He started. "I think West has been spending too much time by himself with his paperwork and such. Honestly, It's like he's lonely or something." Germany sighed and set his napkin down.
"Bruder... I have a lot of paperwork. And work can't wait." He scolded, giving Prussia a stern look. "As for the country, it's doing surprisingly alright, judging on the amount of time I spend away from it."
"Sorry, Doitsu. But you know how much I hate the rain! I can't sleep on stormy nights! Besides, it's so lonely at home..."
Normally, this would be where Romano would interject with some comment about him finding it disgusting that Feli and Germany shared the same bed almost frequently. Today, however, his mind was anywhere but the dinner table. He silently pushed his pasta around the plate, even though Spain had made his favorite recipe, Bolognese with diced tomatoes and extra cheese, with a few small meatballs mixed into the sauce. He just didn't have the stomach for food at the moment. He was trying to make a mental checklist for his last few days. Watching Feli reach across the table and steal a small piece of tomato from Germany's plate, he ran through it again.
Romano's Checklist of Last Activities:
1. Buy a giant tomato and see how much of it I can eat before I feel sick.
2. Finally teach that German bastardo a lesson he'll never forget.
3. Try to make Feli try to not be so happy-go-lucky all the time.
4. Write a will or something.
5. Tell Antonio how I feel.
6. Throw up in trashcan after talking to Antonio.
7. Probably buy some fucking tums or something to help with the barfing.
8. Buy Feli a cat.
9. And finally, make sure I go with no one else around.
"What do you think, Lovino?" Spain asked, turning to him. Startled, Romano's head jerked up, realizing he hadn't been listening. He noticed everyone was looking at him, even Germany. Whatever it was, it had probably been an opinion question, and their opinions were usually different from his, so he went with a relatively safe answer.
"Not really." He said, glancing back down to his plate. Spain raised one eyebrow.
"Really? But I thought you would like your walls to be yellow instead of brown." Pleased with himself for accidentally answering truthfully, Romano shook his head.
"I hate the color yellow. The only place that color belongs is on cheese, pasta, and some breads. Anywhere else is horrid."
"If you say so, Lovi." Spain sighed, turning back to the meal. Of course, Romano thought, going back to picking halfheartedly at his portion. It won't matter. I'll be dead in a week anyway.
As he popped a bit of bread in his mouth, trying to look normal, he felt an unusual dizzy spell settle over him that forced him to grab the table to stay upright.
Maybe sooner.
End of Chapter Two