Hi everyone! This is the first story I am posting on this account, which I share with my friend Justice. :) Some of the stories will be written by me, some by her, and some by both of us.
So, I am the Romano to her Veneziano. Hence the name "pastafreaks" :D I say that because she is a happy, bubbly girl and I... am a complete dick D:
Anyways, onto the fic... It's rated for Romano's language, I don't own Hetalia, and this was written on my phone with no spell check. Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors... Also, this is when Romano is little, so I guess it's sort of Shota. D: Please read and review! :)

When Spain walked into his house after returning from the grocery store, he noticed and was immediately relieved that the living room wasn't in shambles as usual. He let out a breath of relief. It seemed Romano hadn't tried to clean today, thank God. Just last week he'd had to replace yet another lamp the little Italian had accidentally shattered to pieces whilst trying to dust.

"Romano?" he called out into the empty, quiet house. There was no response, not that he was really expecting one. He sighed and slipped his shoes off, padding down the hardwood hall to his kitchen. He set the plastic bags onto the counters and began unpacking them. As he was reaching up to put a bag of flour in the top shelf of a cupboard, he noticed the back door was open, letting a warm, tomato scented breeze waft in from the tomato fields in his backyard. Frowning, he went over to go close it, thinking vaguely about Romano's carelessness, when he heard something coming from just beyond the tomato plants.

He bundled up the empty plastic bags and stuffed them into the garbage, barely caring if the lid closed properly before rushing out the door to see what was going on. As he approached the fields, he noticed that someone was singing; it was a pure, melodious voice that sent shivers up his spine. The tune was almost chilling, a lonely, sad sounding song. He wondered then where Romano was; generally when someone random was sitting in your backyard singing, that person wasn't in their right mind. Or maybe that was just the part of him that watched too many horror movies talking. Either way, he wanted to know Romano was safe. It was getting dark, the sun setting low over the field.

"Romano?" he called again, less loud this time. The singing stopped for a second, but started again a second later. Spain's frown deepened and he walked closer. Where was the voice coming from? It seemed to be inside the field. He sighed and shoved the plants aside, being careful not to drop any good tomatoes, following the voice until he reached the source. He finally reached the little empty space he usually used to take a break while planting and taking care of the plants, and what he saw there made his jaw drop and heart stop.

There was his Romano, his precious little Romano, sitting cross legged on the ground, green dress pooled around his legs and slightly marred with dirt. His back was to Spain, face tilted up to the faded red and pink sky. Spain was too enchanted to speak. Romano was singing. Romano, who always felt so inferior to his brother in everything, was singing, and it was so beautiful and sad Spain felt tears gathering in his green eyes. His lips formed Romano's name soundlessly.

After what seemed like an eternity and way too short all at the same time, Romano finished his song, the last note fading into the darkening sky. Spain let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and Romano's head whipped around, his hazel eyes wide.

"B-bastard!" he stammered, scrambling to his feet. He hastily wiped his eyes, and Spain saw the boy's cheeks were wet. He realized with a start his were too. Romano's cheeks were flushed. "How long... how long were you there?"

"I don't know," Spain whispered. "Romano, you never told me you could sing. That was..." He trailed off, swallowing. "It was beautiful."

Romano looked touched for a moment, his glare faltering, but it was back a second later, although less fierce. His eyebrows furrowed, he looked away and muttered, "Thanks. It wasn't that great though. It's just something I do sometimes." He picked at his apron, not meeting Spain's eyes.

"It wasn't that great? Are you kidding?" Spain approached Romano, crouching to his level. The Italian flushed and looked away but made no move to push Spain away. "It made me cry, look. It was beautiful," he said again. "Why haven't I ever heard you sing before?"

"I don't like to let people listen," Romano said, so quietly Spain had to strain to catch it. "It's embarrassing."


Romano 'tch'd. "Because it's girly."

"No it's not! You should show people how good you are!"

"I don't want to. It's personal." Romano glared and looked away. "Plus, no one would care anyway. They're too hung up on Veneziano." He seemed sad near the end, but covered it up with a haughty curl of his lip. "You're the only one who's heard me sing now, and if anyone finds out, I'll kill you, bastard." His eyes softened for a moment and he looked terribly vulnerable as he whispered, "Please don't tell."

Spain immediately said, "Of course I won't tell." He thought about how sad the song had sounded. "What were you singing? It sounded familiar."

Romano turned pink and yelled, "Bastard! I'm not telling you! It's none of your damn business!" He tried to storm away, but Spain caught his wrist and tugged him back. Romano stumbled and ended up falling half onto Spain's lap. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment and anger and he squeaked, "Pervert! Let me go!"

Spain grinned but didn't deny it. After all, he did have a sort of crush on Romano, who was centuries younger than he was, which sort of made him a paedophile. He didn't care, though; he loved Romano and that was that. "Shh, Roma', just tell me. I already heard you singing." He laughed as Romano growled and head-butted him, narrowly missing the family jewels, before sighing and flopping back against Spain's chest. "Why did it sound so familiar?"

Romano huffed. "I'm not telling."

"Romano. You don't want Boss to punish you, do you?"

Romano turned red up to the roots of his hair. "You really are a pervert, old man!" he accused. "Che palle! Fine. You're so annoying and I hate your stupid guts."

Spain just grinned wider. "Well?" he urged, since Romano was just grumbling.

"I'm going to regret this," the Italian muttered. "Do you remember when you first got me and I always got nightmares?" He still had those nightmares, ones where Spain traded him for his brother and he ended up in the clutches of France and Turkey. Spain still didn't know what they were about, just that they often had Romano screaming for him in the middle of the night. They weren't as frequent, but when he did have them, it was bad. Spain nodded in response to his question, and Romano swallowed. He was glad the sun had set and the only light was the silvery moonlight because he was sure his face was as red as a tomato.

"Do you... remember the tune you would hum? It was like a lullaby. Whenever I woke you up, you'd hold me in your arms and hum it to me." Romano spoke uncharacteristically softly, picking idly at Spain's sleeve.

"Si, I remember."

"I made some lyrics to it. In Italian. That's...what I was singing."

Spain's heart felt heavy and he blinked, moved by Romano's mumbled confession. "Why did it sound so...sad? It's supposed to be happy."

Romano looked up to the sky, where the stars were sparkling like white diamonds on black velvet. "I don't want to say," he said quietly. "I don't want you to know. It's none of your business." He was obviously trying to sound like his usual bitter self, but the hushed emotion in his voice showed otherwise. Spain remained silent. He didn't want to push, and if Romano really didn't want to say anything, he didn't have to. After a long while of just listening to cicadas buzz and crickets chirp, Romano asked, "Do you really want to know?"

"Only if you want to tell me." Honestly, Spain was surprised Romano had already said this much. He must have been feeling lonely tonight, since rather than pushing Spain away as usual, he seemed to be opening up and letting him in.

"Okay. It's... I... the nightmare. It's about that and how much I don't want it to come true." Romano balled his fists and clenched at his apron. "Don't ask me to tell you what the nightmare is about. I won't. But that's what the song is about and... It's... how I don't want... I don't want you to..." He cut himself off, knuckles turning white. "Never mind. Forget it."

Spain moved his hand to Romano's head, running his fingers through the dark red locks fondly. He made sure not to touch that one curl that made Romano really angry all the time. "You can tell me, mi tomate. I won't laugh. You know that right? I love you."

"Don't say that. Especially since it's not true," Romano snapped. "Everyone knows you want Veneziano."

Spain sighed. "We've been through this before. At first I did want your brother, but I want you a million times more than I ever wanted him. You're my fiery little Romano." He stopped petting Romano's head, wrapping his arms around the boy's tiny waist and pulling him into a back-to-stomach hug. "Te quiero, mi tomate. Stop thinking so low of yourself."

"Okay," Romano whispered, voice thick like he was going to cry. "It's about how I don't want you to leave, okay?" He flushed and tried to pull away. "Now let me go, bastard!"

Spain flushed happily. "You don't want me to leave you?" he asked, squealing excitedly. "That's so cute!" He wrapped his arms tight around Romano, rolling back and forth with the Italian in his embrace. Romano screeched and kicked as Spain exclaimed, "Cute cute cuuute!"

"Stop!" Romano cried, but Spain heard a giggle. "Damnit, bastard, I said stop!" His voice was breathless and his fists were beating at the Spaniard's chest. Spain finally stopped rolling, flopping onto his back. Romano jerked out of his grip, glaring.

"You're such a freak," he muttered, dusting off his apron and green dress. Spain grinned at him. Romano scowled and said, "What?"

"I really love you. I love when you're like this. When we spend time together and you're not biting my head off." His head fell back and he stared up at the twinkling stars. "You should be like this more often."

Romano flushed. "Stupid," he murmured, flopping down next to Spain. "You're stupid. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Spain responded, looking down at him. Romano grumbled and hid his face behind his bangs, scooting closer to the Spaniard as the chill of the night started seeping through his clothes. He curled up to his side and they fell silent, Spain grinning and Romano blushing as they looked up at the stars.

After a while, Spain said, "You should sing again."

Romano glared up at him through dark red bangs. "Don't push your luck, bastard."

"You will sing for me one day though, won't you?"

Romano muttered something, but Spain didn't quite catch it. "What?" he asked.

"I said maybe! Now shut the fuck up, you asshole. You're ruining the moment."

So, that's the end of that. This is my first fic on this account, so I hope everyone liked it. I do have another account, but I'm not going to advertise myself. ^^" At some point this account will have a fic where it's my friend and I co-writing, but as I said, not all the fics will be like that. Look out for her as well! She's really creative and her ideas are phenomenal. GO JUSTICE! :D
Please leave a review, I would really appreciate it! :) If you don't... I will cry. D': Just kidding I'll just get over it and go cuddle my Edward Elric plushie. T_T
Thanks for reading!