All the Hetalian Ships [DISCONTINUED]

||:Spamano: True Heart of an Italian Child :||

"Spain, you bastard! Come clean my room! It got messy again." The little Italian boy in a brown maid dress, named Romano, yelled out.

"Ah, Romano! Can't you clean your own room yet!" Romano's guardian, Spain, said sighing, slightly stomping down the hall. He turned the corner to find an even messier room than the last time, his face scrunched up.

"You know what?! I think it's about time you learned to clean on your own!" And with that, Spain left the room, closing the doors and locking it behind him.

"And I'm not letting you out until it is spotless!" He knew he was being a little more than hard on him this time around, but he needed to learn even something that's useful other than eating pizza, and picking tomatoes. Spain sighed, slightly worried about the poor boy, even though he had dragged him into this.

"Stupid bastard..." Romano began to pout, sitting against the wall. He waited and waited and waited until finally he gave in and began cleaning ever so little at a turtle pace. He first began to straighten his bed sheets, and threw his old clothes into the little chest against the wall... But before he moved on, pizza break. Back to business, he cleaned up his little drawing corner. While in the process, he found the picture he was working on, before • • •

Well, he fell over in his chair, causing him to fall back and hit his head. Which in turn causes him to roll around on the floor shouting ow, and he bumps into his wardrobe, which falls over, almost hitting him, and spews clothes everywhere. His bed? Well, that was already messy to begin with, not enough energy to move a few pairs of clothes.

Back to the task at hand, he placed the unfinished picture on his nightstand and finished straightening his little corner. He took a glance at his wardrobe, and could tell there was no way he was lifting that up, so, instead, he made a pile, not a neat one, of the strewn-around clothes. He was finished with what he could manage to do. Total time of cleaning; 5 hours and 37 minutes. Like I said, turtle pace.

Judging by the lighting coming through his window, it was evening, and about the time Spain would be picking his tomatoes for him and Romano to share. Romano was too tired to call out for him, so instead, he grabbed the unfinished picture and sat back down to draw. He scribbled a lot with the brown crayon especially, as it was the color of his, and Spain's, hair.

"Tomatoes~! Tomatoes~!" Sang the happy Spaniard as he came back with a basketful of delicious, ripe tomatoes.

"I hope Roma will like them! Wonder if he's done cleaning yet?" His cheery smile, prominent as usual, as he practically skipped down the halls to share his catch. Being careful not to drop the basket, he unlocked Romano's door, to find an almost spotless room besides the pile of clothes that need to go into the over-turned wardrobe.

"Guess I couldn't expect him to lift that... Hm?" Spain's glance slid over to that of the little Italian resting his head against his desk. Spain set his basket on the bed and walked over to the boy.

"Romano? Are you awake?" The cheerful man asked, lightly stroking the Italian's little curl, causing Romano to shift his head, and swat the hand bugging him. Spain chuckled and noticed the drawing that was hidden behind the little one's head before. He smiled softly at the drawing, and kissed Romano's forehead, earning him a smile.

"Great job, Roma! I knew you could do it if you really tried." The Spaniard smiled and set a tomato on his desk before shutting the door quietly.

'To: Tomato Bastard
From: Your Soon to be Ruler
Thanks for all your hard work, and for putting up with me, and for not leaving me like everyone else... Also, I want a tomato.'

"Te amo"

"Ti amo"