Unforgotten - RomaCan

6 - The Kind of Date

Monday came. And it came really, really, really slowly. So slow that I have decided that time is against me, like everything else in this world.

I had rung Romano on the phone and told him my address and the directions to my house. He should be arriving on a boat, so I'm going to wait at the port. I can't wait!

He arrived on time, and everything running smoothly for once.

"What are we gonna do?" He asks. Glad he did, because I had planned the best day ever for us! I hope he likes it.

"I was thinking, since this is Canada, we could go skiing?" I kind of say and kind of ask, unsure of his response, he is a very unpredictable person.

"Sure, sounds cool." Phew. He likes it.

We go up the mountain and down it at a much faster pace. It all goes well until Romano decides to fall on his face and we have to take him to the emergency room.

"How was I supposed to know what the hell to do? I've hardly ever seen snow, and I'm older than I look." He complains to the nurse as she tells him the correct way to ski down the slope.

"You should take him home and get him rested, he could have broken something if he were going any faster." The nurse says. No, commands.

Back at my house, I make Roma a cup of hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows and cream. I did ask if he wanted syrup but he said it was fine.

"So, what did you do exactly?" I ask curiously.

"I leant 'too far forwards'" he says, mimicking the nurses accent to a point where it sounds more American than Canadian. I wonder how Japan and America went on as I laugh gently.

"Have you ever tried tomato sauce on hot chocolate?" I was cut off from my thoughts.

"No? That is the most Italian thing I have ever heard you say, and I thought you couldn't get any more Italian."

"You put maple syrup in yours, Mr can't get any more stereotypical." He fires back.

"Maybe we're just as bad as each other. It's nothing compared to America. He dips fries in milkshakes." We laugh at my brother's eating habits, however fries and milkshake is quite nice to his defence.

We stay in silence for a bit before I notice that Romano has fallen asleep. I take the empty mug out of his hands and take it to be washed later. I pick him up, carry him up to the guest room and lay him on the bed. After deciding something was missing, I go and grab a stuffed toy for him too.

I sit on the rocking chair that I've had since I was a child and read until he woke up. His hair had become messy, and he was grumpy (even more so than usual) from waking up.

"Good morning." I say sarcastically.

"It's 5 o clock. And how did I get here?" He asks obliviously.

"I got a catapult and catapulted you into bed." I am on a roll here.

"Really?"

"No."

"You carried me didn't you?" He finally clicks.

"Yes. And it's also dinner time, what do you want?"

"Do you know how to make pizza?" He asks.

"Of course, who doesn't?"

So we made pizzas, and with a little of Romano's special touch, it was delicious. He can REALLY make a good pizza.

The next day, we, again, did some ultra Canadian activities. Aka we played hockey and half of that time was spent teaching Roma how to skate. He never really got it, so he decided to sit and watch, despite my protests.

About half way through a game, I spot him smiling. Again. I don't know how much he used to smile before I met him, but he does so a lot more than you'd expect. I might have to consult someone about that.

By the time the game had finished, I was exhausted. I say was, I still am. I should probably have stolen a few of America's crappy players rather than my professionals. I may be good, but I don't play frequently enough to be able to beat them.

I skate to the edge of the ice to find a smirking Italian waiting for me.

"I have an idea. How about we take the next boat to Italy, and try some classic Italian activities, spend some time in the warmth." He concludes. I smile and nod.

"Sounds great."