Title: Lying In
Author: s41k1
Rating: T on the safe side.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Romerica
Warnings: Romano's mouth, of course.
Summary: Fail title is fail, of course. Romano wanted a lie in after the BTT crash his house. America comes barrelling in their stead. Romano Is Not Very Happy but it turns out pretty good for him.
Notes: They're probably just needing a little push. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. That's why I made Romano go on an uber denial spree (?). I don't know what I'm typing by the way. Following the style I post on LJ because it looks neat. By the way, I'm really unable to type much but in recompense, I'm drawing a lot. However, I have to get them scanned via my friend so I can't get them up as much as I like to. So shameless plug here; watch out for my art dumps on DA. I'm drawing more Romerica (and others) just so.

Romano really wanted a lie in. He deserved it, dammit, after having to put up with the Bad Touch Trio suddenly crashing into his house. Drunk. But of course they were drunk. They seemed to hardly do anything else. He had unsuccessfully tried yelling himself hoarse trying to get them out before trying to shove them off his compound. Now, he had a sore throat and was desperately clinging to sleep. Naturally, the world hated him and decided to dump another annoyance on him.

"Ro~ ma~ NO!"

Great. Great, great, great, fuck. Romano buried himself as deep as he could into his sheets. He did not want to deal with anything right now. "Fuck off, America."

"Whaddya say, Romano?"

Shit, just how loud is this guy? He groaned. There was silence for a while. It was too much to hope that America had left. Sure enough, the sheets were being insistently tugged. Romano just let him. He was too tired to put up a fight. Thus America found the half nation face down on his pillow, seemingly dead. "… you aren't really dead, right?"

A "No" was muffled by aforementioned pillow. The hyper superpower decided to actually 'read the atmosphere' today and found that the poor guy was completely exhausted; though if he was usually alert to others, he wouldn't have to specially do so, but never mind. He was bored, but being a hero, he won't want to trouble him! What could he do now? How about… sleep? Hey, that sounded great! He was quite tired, really, and he's accompanying a fellow nation! Two birds with one stone! Um… there should be a reason why he came here in the first place, right? … he can't remember, so oh well. Let's sleep~

…

Romano awoke later and was somehow not surprised to see America sharing his bed. Perhaps he was not quite awake. That explains why he ruffled his hair. He was just really sleepy, okay? Everyone's all mushy when they're drowsy. That's also why he made some pasta for him. He was hungry after his nap too, so it's not just for that idiot, got it? He was definitely not thinking about how cute he looked when he was sleeping and his glasses askew. He also took off his glasses and put it on the side table because he'll crush it in his sleep, not that he looked younger and more adorable with it off. And everyone looks more innocent in their sleep, obviously.

He yawned; still a little tired, but better. He slowly chewed the pasta he just cooked. The smell was quite strong. No, he didn't do that on purpose so that the bottomless pit currently on his bed would wake up to food. Of course not. It was the recipe. Because he's still sleepy, he's eating slowly. He wouldn't want to get his clothes dirty by eating like some slob. He's not waiting for someone to wake up. Why are you assuming something like that? There's no way in hell he likes that idiot.

He took some of the pasta up, because he'll definitely be hungry when he wakes up, like him. He was wondering whether to wake him up or not. I mean, some get pissed when you just poke them awake, right? "Roma…?"

"Took you long enough, bastard."

"Mmm… is that food?"

"What do you think?"

America stared into the half nation's golden-brown eyes. "Feed me."

"What? Why the hell would I do that, you hamburger bastard?"

He shrugged and stretched, cat-like, on Romano's bed. He found the sight a little distracting. No, actually, not, of course. How could an idiot like him distract someone like himself? He harrumphed. "What's up, Romano~? You're not going to feed me?"

Damn, damn, damn, what the hell, puppy eyes? He swallowed thickly. "Why should I?"

"Just because?"

He picked the fork up and speared some of the pasta. "I-I'm doing this so that it won't go to waste, got that, bastard? And you better sit up. I'm making you clean if you hack it all over the place."

"I won't do that." He sat up anyway.

"F-fine. Here," he almost thrust the fork into the other nation's mouth. "And you better chew it slowly and savour the damn thing."

America responded with a thoughtful 'mm' as he followed the Italian's snappish orders. He swallowed the first morsel then gave a loud exclamation. "Oh, oh, Roma! I wanted to tell you something really important! France helped me realize it!"

"… France. Of all people. France," he emphasized the last word.

"He's very good at this sort of thing," which wasn't a very clear explanation.

"What… sort of thing?"

America turned serious as he put aside the pasta and fork which Romano had held onto for dear life. He then held the half nation's hands and said in a low tone, "I love you, Italy Romano."

To say he was shocked would be a gross understatement. He was completely frozen, mouth agape. Some life returned to him in the form of his face changing several fetching shades of red. "CHIGIIIIIIII! WHAT THE HELL WAS T-T-T-T-THAT YOU BASTARD?"

"I hardly think confessing warrants calling me a bastard," he pouted, but his eyes twinkled. This was the usual Romano, after all. And the fact he wasn't attempting to pull away was good enough. "So, what do you think Roma?"

"I-I-I," he stuttered incoherently. Something snapped and he roughly got his hands out of America's grasp, pushing the other down onto the bed and kissed him fiercely. When they broke off, he asked a little breathlessly, "How was that, you jackass?"

"I'm all yours."