Just a short drabblefic, felt like writing some good ol' tomato loving.

El Disclaimero: No, I sadly do not own the world. Oh the things I could do...


Spain loved Romano, he really did, but he didn't think he was perfect. Whenever people saw them together, they saw the angry cursing Italian and the pushover Spaniard who was too dense to see the other's faults. And yes, Spain did think Romano was adorable when he was mad. But after seeing him happy, He knew that was what he truly wanted.

Because Romano was beautiful when he smiled.

He knew if he told the Italian this he would be promptly head-butted, but he also knew he would never tell Romano. Because despite everyone's belief, Romano tried his hardest to make Spain happy. And he knew that fake smiles formed for his behalf would not be beautiful. They would not be adorable. They would be masks.

And why would someone hide Romano's face behind a mask?

So he tried his hardest to make the other smile on his own. He gave him flowers, he prepared for him, and he knew to be sentimental, not expensive. And one day, Romano noticed. Or more correctly, Romano had noticed, and was now pointing it out to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly. They were in the kitchen; a medley of Mediterranean smells intoxicating the room.

"What do you mean Lovi?" Spain chimed, chopping tomatoes for the paella.

Romano leaned against the counter, scarlet sauce bubbling behind him. "Why have you been doing all this stuff?"

"What stuff?"

"The flowers, the fancy picnics, coming over and cooking…"

"You're cooking too Lovi."

Romano pouted and crossed his arms, "That's not what I mean, what do you want bastardo?" There was the cursing.

"Can't I treat you well? I just want you to be happy."

Romano blushed and stared into his chest, as if expecting it to open up and speak for him, "I-I'm happy when I'm with you, Spagna." He mumbled.

Spain lit up at this and pounced on the smaller boy. "Aw Lovi! I love you too." He looked down curiously at the Italian, who had his face covered by his hands. Or more precisely, the huge oven mitts he had on. "Why are you covering your face?"

"I- I don't want you to see me smiling." He confessed, the muffled voice perfectly reaching the Spaniards ears.

Spain stared at Romano for a few seconds, the sentence finally registering in his brain. "You mean-" he started, hesitating a second, "You mean all I have to do to make you smile, is tell you I love you?" He could see Romano's ears growing bright red, and he pried the oven mitts away from the younger's face.


"Romano, mi pequeño tomate, te amo."

Yes, when Romano smiled, he truly was beautiful.

Three years of Spanish and I can do just about this. I am truly proud.


Bastardo: Bastard (Italian)

Spagna: Spain (Italian)

S-sì : Y-yes (Italian)

Romano, mi pequeño tomate, te amo.: Romano, my little tomato, I love you. (Spanish)