Unforgotten - RomaCan

8 - Italian Activities

Canada's POV

We took the next boat to Italy, which conveniently, was the next day. The entire day was literally just enjoying a nice boat ride, and just being on the ocean altogether. Needless to say, we nearly got hit by a ton of seagull poop, and avoided being attacked by birds several times, due to having food.

This was actually my first time travelling with someone who wasn't family, because I always hop across the border to get a ride with America when the meetings aren't in an American nation.

We arrived at the coast of Italy really late at night, maybe even the morning, but I was extremely tired. So tired that I fell asleep on the way to Rome. I didn't get to have a good look at the country, as my last look was when war was extremely present, and I was asleep this time.

I was woken by a slight tap on the shoulder, and by slight, I mean quite vigorously.

"Wake up, we're here." I hear Romano say. I rub my eyes and groggily reply with a small yeah.

We get out, and I swear this country is magical, everything was so... Italian.

"Come on, we can sightsee tomorrow, its half eleven, you need rest." Roma says, pulling me into what I'm going to assume is his house. It'd be kinda weird if it wasn't.

He shows me my room, and leaves me to just get on with sleeping. I'm halfway through getting changed into my nightwear when he comes in with a glass of milk.

"I brought you som- OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY!"

"It's fine, my pants are on, and we're both guys, right?" I try to reassure him. He does calm down a little thankfully.

"I brought you some milk." He sets the glass on the side and leaves abruptly.

"Good night." I hear him say through the door before he goes to do what he needs to do.

I finish getting dressed and proceed to get some sleep.

I wake up at about six in the morning to someone singing downstairs.

"Vieni su, vieni su, come along through the years..." The song is interrupted by Romano yelling.

"FRATELLO, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

"I thought you might want some company, and the Pope is here, I like taking to him."

"You came here to chat with the Pope?"

"And to keep you company."

"The one day I actually have company. Typical. Just go, go gossip with the Pope."

I walk downstairs to him to ask what all the fuss was about, despite knowing exactly what happened.

"Hey," I say, waving awkwardly, "what-" my question was cut short.

"Italy. The only thing he can invade is peoples privacy. And Germa- actually no, I'm not going to go there." He jokes. "What'd you want for breakfast?"

"Do you do pancakes?" I question.

He shakes his head. "No, but Belgium taught me how to make waffles when I was small. They're basically the same thing, aren't they?"

"Oh God, no. How dare you say such a thing. Come on, I'll teach you." For someone who claims to be a good cook, he is oblivious to the delicacies. Because of all the tom-foolery that happened trying to make the pancakes (which was mostly just getting flour everywhere), it took us until around seven o clock to finish making them, and another half hour to add toppings and eat them.

"These are so good! How have I lived my life not tasting one of these?" Romano gushes over the food, understandably, it was delicious.

"If you cook them slightly differently, you can make this weird British pudding thing that always comes out really badly. It's not even a pudding." I say.

"How did this come from that? But anyway, I think it's time to get on with the activities I planned." He smiles again, but this time slightly cockily as if he knows something I don't. I don't like not knowing.

We finish getting ready and set out.

"Since you made me do sports, I am getting my own revenge by making you play the classic Italian sport of football." He explains.

"Isn't football from-"

"No! It's Italian!" He cuts me off. I've never tried playing football, but I may be good at it, I'll never know until I actually play.

"Ciao Romano!"