Laundry

"Please, Romano?"

"No, I'm too damn little to be doing my own laundry."

"You're not like this when you have to wash your own sheets after yo-"

Romano's face heated up instantly at Spain's words, "OK, fine, I'll do the damn laundry as long as you shut up!"

"Yes," Spain shouted cheerfully, "thank you, Romano."

"I'm not doing this for you," Romano spat as he began making his way down the hall toward the laundry room. Even if he didn't like doing the laundry, he was glad it gave him a brief reprieve from Spain's hovering. If it meant avoiding the Spaniard, he would do it.

When Romano reached the room he pulled a stool up to the washer so he could reach it. He was still too short to get the clothes and the sheets into the top; he was growing, but not that much. And, being the stubborn child he was, decided against asking Spain for assistance.

Romano picked up a bundle of sheets and threw them into the washer, and when he had that done, he stepped back down off of the stool to retrieve Spain's shirts that needed washing. Romano picked them up and balled them up haphazardly in his hands - much like he had done with the sheets.

He held them close as he stepped onto the stool, but doing so gave him a huge whiff of Spain. Out loud Romano said 'nasty' but inside, he said 'nice'. It was Spain's scent, the scent he had grown used to over the years; so earthy and natural from spending so many long days in the tomato fields.

Romano gave in and breathed in deep, just once. He always smelled Spain, but the smell was concentrated on the shirts. It was nice.

"So cute," Romano heard from behind him.

Romano whipped his head around, only to see Spain peeking in from around the door frame. He was trying to hide, but his idiocy wouldn't let him go unnoticed by the little Italian.

To hide his embarrassment, Romano got angry, as he always had. He threw Spain's clothes in the washer, dropped the lid, stepped off of the stool, and throttled Spain.

Spain let out a heavy 'oomph' and fell to the ground in a heap with Romano on top of him, punching his chest. His hands were small, as was his frame, but that didn't mean he didn't have any kind of strength. Spain learned that the hard way.

After a heavy beating dealt by Romano, Spain retreated to his bedroom with multiple injuries. However, these injuries were not all for naught as he still had a clear mental image of Romano smelling his clothes.

Spain sighed happily.

A/N: Wow, I don't know why it took me so long to get out another chapter.