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thatsamericano · 3 years

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Careful, Throwing Snowballs May Result in a Kiss

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano. Background mentions of Seborga, Veneziano, Canada, and France.

Ratings/Warnings: T for cursing and mildly suggestive dialogue. Pure fluff with no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2103

Summary: America throws a snowball at Romano when he’s trying to build a snowman with his brothers. Once Romano tackles America, he has to decide what he wants to do with him.

A/N: Written for @hetalia-fanart-memes, who requested Romerica with the prompt “Don’t throw that snowball” on @helltalia-inc. I hope you enjoy this.

It was snowing in the park only a block away from where the nations had gathered for the world meeting. Romano was never the biggest fan of the cold, so if it had been up to him, he would have gone straight back to the hotel. He was looking forward to taking a flight back to Rome the next day, where he hopefully wouldn’t be dealing with this snow crap. In the unlikely event that it was snowing in Rome, Romano would go to Naples or another city in South Italy not affected as strongly by the winter.

But for today, Marcello, who had come along on this trip with Savino and Feliciano even if he couldn’t attend the official conference, had practically begged Savino to come build a snowman with him after the meeting. Feliciano had begged too, and under the force of two sets of puppy dog eyes, Savino had folded like a paper napkin.

This wasn’t so bad, Romano reflected. Sure, it was cold as shit, but he was relatively protected in his scarf, hat, and gloves, and he got to spend time with his brothers. At least he hadn’t been pelted with a snowball, which many of the nations had, thanks to America and Canada.

Romano glanced up when he heard France fussing about his appearance as he attempted to brush snow out of his hair. America, who was obviously the one who had thrown this particular snowball, was laughing in his usual obnoxiously bright, ridiculously loud, attention getting way. So, of course Savino turned to glance in that direction instead. He didn’t really have another choice.

Savino hated how his heart started pounding as soon as he looked at Alfred. It wasn’t fair, damn it. No one should look that handsome while just fucking standing there, hunched over a little as they laughed at their own joke like they were God’s gift to comedy. Alfredo was laughing so hard at himself that his cerulean eyes were narrowed into thin slits and tears were leaking from the corners. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, creating a bright light Savino couldn’t manage to look away from. Alfred’s grin was so big it could swallow the sky whole.

And the bastard had dimples, as if God hadn’t blessed him with too much beauty already. Savino wanted to kiss the corner of the idiota’s mouth, just to feel those dimples under his own lips. Savino swallowed heavily at the thought and told himself to focus on the snowman he’d been working on for the past half hour.

But he was too late. America’s smile had already softened, and he had already noticed that Romano was looking at him.

“What’s up, Little Italy? You feel like joining in on the snowball fight?”

Savino scoffed and forced himself to go back to reshaping his snowman’s head. “Hardly. As you can see, I’m busy at the moment.”

“Are you suuure? It could be a lot of fun.”

“If you want to go run around with America, that’s fine,” Seborga told him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Romano wasn’t looking at his baby brother. He was looking at America, because he knew that mischievous tone of voice from back when they lived together, and he knew that Alfred was planning something. Fredo was never good at subtlety.

America was rolling a snowball together in his gloved hands with a smirk on his face. Because of course he was.

“I swear to God, if you throw that fucking snowball at me—”

The snowball went sailing through the air, and it hit him square in the chest. Savino was stumbled backwards a little, because Alfred had used way too much fucking force with that throw because of his super-strength. It wasn’t enough to really hurt him, but it was almost enough to knock him off his feet.

The sounds of laughter rang out around him. Alfred, of course, and Feli and Marcello nearby. Canada seemed to be chuckling, though he was too quiet for Romano to actually hear him, and so were the other nations nearby, even the ones like France who had been America’s snowball victims.

And that just wouldn’t fucking stand.

Romano glared at America as viciously as he could manage when he was more irritated than truly pissed off. “Now you’re gonna get it, stronzo!”

Alfred took off running, shrieking with laughter, and Savino chased after him. They ran for a couple minutes, because America could be pretty fast when he wanted to be. But he couldn’t outpace an Italian.

Eventually, Savino tackled him in a snowbank and fell right on top of him. If America had really wanted to get away, Romano would have had no hope of holding him down. But America wasn’t struggling. He relaxed back against the snowy ground, panted for air, and smiled up at Romano sheepishly.

“Looks like you caught me.”

“I guess I did.” Savino moved one of his hands to the side to gather up some snow in his palm. Alfred didn’t notice. He was still too busy grinning up at him.

Alfred giggled, because apparently, he found the idea of being in this position inherently hilarious for God knows what reason. “Now that you have me, what are you gonna do with me?”

Savino gazed down at him thoughtfully. He took a moment to examine the golden blond hair tousled underneath his knit cap and how it perfectly framed his rosy cheeks. He stared at the goofy smile and the electric blue eyes that had distracted him so thoroughly before. He memorized what it felt like to have Alfred’s firm, solid body laid out underneath him.

“I can think of a few things,” Savino admitted quietly. “Not all of them would be appropriate for a public park.”

Alfred’s eyes widened comically behind his glasses, and his face turned red. No, not just red, practically scarlet. His face practically matched the poinsettias that had been decorating the lobby of the office building they were in earlier today. “Vinny, that’s um, that’s, wow, I…”

Romano chuckled at how flustered and tongue-tied he was. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Alfred nodded frantically, with a desperate look in his eyes. ��Please.” He might have been embarrassed, but he was eager too. It was too adorable for Savino to resist.

He started to lean down, and America closed his eyes, because he was innocent and gullible enough to do that. He couldn’t see Romano’s arm lifting with the snowball he’d make earlier. A millisecond before their lips touched, Romano shoved the snowball he’d made earlier directly into the crook of America’s neck, right above his coat collar and scarf, where he was unprotected from the cold.

America’s eyes flew open, and he squawked indignantly. “You tricked me!”

Romano laughed at the offended look on his face. “You made it so fucking easy.” He couldn’t believe America had actually fallen for the oldest trick in the book.

Alfred growled at him, and the low noise sent a tingle down Savino’s spine. “That was evil. I really oughta do something about it.”

Savino snorted. “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, Mr. Tough Guy?”

“This.” Before Romano could ask what “this” was, America flipped them over, and in the space of a second, he was pinned underneath someone a lot stronger than him. He couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to. Savino couldn’t breathe properly, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the sudden body slam or the fact that Alfred was on top of him.

To repeat, Alfred was on top of him. His brain couldn’t function at half its normal capacity when he realized that.

Then Alfred was kissing him, and it wasn’t soft, nor gentle, nor sweet. America’s tongue shoved its way into his mouth immediately, without any build-up or finesse, and Romano could feel how frustrated he was. He must have been suppressing this desire for as long as Romano had, because it didn’t just feel like something America wanted. It felt like a raw, animalistic hunger, like he was kissing Romano hard enough to bruise because he might die if he didn’t.

Savino felt the same way. He groaned in the back of his throat, clutched the collar of Alfred’s coat, hauled him close enough to feel the edge of his glasses digging into his face, and kissed him back just as forcefully.

After a while, it had to end. They couldn’t kiss forever because of that whole inconvenient “need to breathe” thing. Alfred disconnected their mouths, sighed happily, and scooted down a little to nuzzle Savino’s cheek.

“Best revenge ever,” Alfred declared triumphantly.

Savino huffed out a laugh. “I’m not sure if that counts as revenge. Revenge is supposed to be something the other person doesn’t like.”

“And you liked kissing me a lot, didn’t you?” America sounded so smug and sure of himself, and ordinarily, Romano would have been annoyed by anyone with that kind of attitude. But with Alfred, the fondness tended to outshine his annoyance. That didn’t happen with most people.

Savino rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“I liked kissing you too. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages. I could kiss you all day long. Well, except for when I have to go to the bathroom or something like that. But other than that, pretty much all the time.”

Savino shook his head and laughed again. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out, because they were so easy to say. Fredo was a dork who would openly admit to wanting to kiss Savino all the time, and he wasn’t even exaggerating. He looked like a goddamned movie star, but even with his occasional moments of arrogance, he never seemed to realize how ludicrously attractive he was, much less how he could have anyone in the world wrapped around his pinkie finger. America made Romano laugh and smile more than anyone else ever had. Of course Savino loved him.

Alfred blinked in shock, he’d just seen the face of God, but somehow more astounded than that. Then he grinned, with the adoration of a child to its mother or a puppy to its owner, but somehow purer and more loving than that too. Savino’s internal similes were failing him.

Alfred’s words were failing him too. “I love you too! I love you so much, I just—” He didn’t finish his sentence and resorted to covering Savino’s face with ecstatic kisses.

Savino giggled at his overexuberance. “Tesoro, I believe you. You don’t have to prove it, okay?”

“But I want to.”

Fair enough, Savino supposed. He laid there, grinning like an idiot in the snowbank, and let Alfred keep kissing his face. His hat had been knocked off earlier when Alfred flipped them over, and the cold at the back of his head and the nape of his neck was starting to get to him, but he was trying to ignore that.

When he noticed Savino shivering, Alfred sat up and pulled him into his lap. “Better?”

“Much.” Romano saw his hat on the ground and frowned in indecision. It had been laying in the snow for a long time, so it would probably only make his head colder, not warmer.

So instead of reaching over to get his hat, he nestled his head into America’s shoulder. America wrapped both arms around him in a clingy embrace.

“Now it’s perfect,” Savino decided.

Alfred kissed the top of his head. “Damn right it is.”

Savino wasn’t quite warm due to the temperature outside, but he was content and drowsy. The rhythm of Alfred’s breathing was oddly soothing.

That rhythm was interrupted by an abrupt laugh. “Dude, I just realized. If someone came by looking for us, they’d find you curled up in my lap instead of running after me and throwing snowballs. They’d be confused as hell.”

“Let ‘em be confused. I don’t really care what they think, do you?”

Alfred squeezed him a little tighter, and Savino didn’t have to look up to know that he was smiling.

“I never did. I’m just happy to be holding you.”

Savino’s face was warm, and he was blushing at least as badly as Alfred had been earlier, after Savino had implied he might do something to him that wasn’t appropriate for a public park. He wasn’t used to this much affection, and maybe he never would be.

But Romano didn’t care who might walk by and see him blushing with a cheesy grin on his face. He was happy, Alfred was holding him, and that was all that fucking mattered.

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