Work Text:
It happened in a bar, one evening. Spain, France and Prussia had gone out for a drink together after a day full of meetings. Really, it should have been business as usual: France chatting up the nearby humans, Prussia cheating at drinking games and Spain losing them. But then, history was made. A human girl, nationality not remembered (but hotly debated later on), sidled up next to Spain with the intention of taking him home. That in itself was not all that uncommon. But this girl, this girl was persistent. She tried several different tracks to accomplish her goal:
Pick-up lines. (“Did you know your hair and my pillow are perfectly color coordinated?” “Huh? Do you have a yellow sheet set too? I got mine for my birthday, oh, about ten years ago, I think. It’s one of my favorite colors!”)
Laughing at his jokes. (“See guys? She thinks the turtle story is funny! Why are there two of her?”)
Actually introducing herself. (“My name is— are you alright?” “Yes. Yes? I’m trying to remember my name; I came up with it myself, you see. Uh. Er. I think it has an ‘A’ in it… France, do you remember?”)
Getting along with his friends. (“You! Girl! I’ve invented the most awesome game there is!” “Okay…”)
Suffice to say, several shots later the unidentified human was a little worse for the wear. And a little depressed: she had her arms around her target’s waist and her head in his lap and he was still trying to balance a coaster on his nose! What was wrong with him? “I wanna have sex with yooooooou.”
“Hm?”
“I bet you’re reeeeeeaaall good at it, heeeee,” At that point, she fell off her stool, and into a strange dreamland where the mysterious stranger from the bar and his two friends really did go home with her. She woke up, extremely disoriented and vaguely disappointed, alone on the front stoop of the bar six hours later.
But before that, back when she’d just propositioned the Kingdom of Spain, she received an answer she would never remember. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tried.”
And even though France and Prussia didn’t say anything then, didn’t remark in surprise or astonishment, they remembered. And in less than twenty-four hours, the two of them managed to tell the rest of the world. When the next world meeting took place, Spain was extra confused as to why everyone was staring at him; for about three seconds.
After that, he forgot about it and began folding his conference notes into little paper airplanes. Unbeknownst to the content nation and his paper fleet, a flurry of gossip was running around the large conference table. All the other nations of the world were grouping together and whispering. And for once, it wasn’t about delivering 'stimulus packages' to Greece.
“He thought I was rebelling again the last time I tried to put my hand in his shirt; I still have the scars from when he flipped out.” She took a sip of her coffee as she finished relaying her failures to France.
Unfortunately, her brother had been listening in. “Belgium!”
“What?” she shared a smile with France, who was all too happy to sit in with each and every group and gather information on his friend. “I’m a grown woman. You really shouldn’t be surprised…”
The Netherlands was. “You told me you were just rebelling again.”
“Oh. Oops?”
At the other end of the room, two latecomers arrived to what they thought was supposed to be a conference on the world economy. They had let their siesta last for just a little too long, and had apparently missed the biggest news wave since the end of America and Russia’s little rocket competition. Romano straightened his tie while Veneziano flagged down Prussia to get him to explain. “What’s going on?”
“Didn’t you know?” Prussia finished stuffing a few slips of paper into his suit pocket. “Spain’s a virgin! We’re all taking bets on how long that’s going to last… hey, Italy! And… other Italy!” Romano scowled. “Either of you a gambling nation? The best money’s on France right now, but you,” he stuck his finger on Romano’s nose, “are coming in second. Personally, I think everybody should vote on the most awesome choice, me, but—”
Veneziano and Romano ran straight out of the room before they had to listen to any more. Prussia noticed, but he didn’t care and kept talking anyway.
- - - - -
“Ve, Romano, what would you do if I said that I wanted to have sex with Spain?” The brothers had returned to their room after escaping from Prussia. Both had taken off their suits again (It’s easier to feel the breeze like this, ve!) and were lounging on their shared bed.
“Offer to help you,” Veneziano looked over at his brother in surprise. Romano was staring at the ceiling, and he didn’t look disgusted or even angry! Just rather bored. “He’s such an idiot it would take both of us to pierce the fog of his stupidity long enough to score anything.”
This was great! “Really? That’s great! I thought you’d be jealous!”
Romano turned over to face his brother. “And I thought you married a plate of manicotti in Monte Carlo in 1923.”
Veneziano pouted and batted at his brother’s curl (stop touching that!) “…ve, I’d had a lot to drink that night, brother. You know that.” He was a force to be reckoned with when he’d had too much wine; it was one of the greatest state secrets that their leaders had to keep. Along with Romano’s sleepwalking and both brothers’ pasta budget.
“I’m the other half of you; it’s not like you need to justify these things to me stupid.” Romano thoroughly enjoyed whenever he could get one over on his brother. Whenever he could be even a little bit superior to anyone, really. “Now let’s plan how to do this properly before France figures out that putting something in his drink will probably work just as well.”
“Romano! Big brother France wouldn’t—”
Romano kicked his brother off their bed and sat up. “Call him your ‘big brother’ one more time and I’ll make you go to meetings with the boss by yourself for a month.” He smirked. “Just you and him.”
All alone with their current boss? “You’re mean Romano.” He held out a hand and pleaded with his eyes for his brother to pick him up off the floor.
“And you’re an idiot and Spain’s an even bigger idiot.” But the south of Italy still helped his brother back onto their bed. It would have been too pathetic to leave him on the floor. Back at square one, the halves of Italy began to brainstorm. How could they get to Spain before everyone else? How could they get him to understand what they wanted? And most importantly of all, how could they deflower him without sustaining any physical harm?
Three hours later, they still hadn’t had any breakthroughs. “We can’t just go up to him and ask him outright, ve, that’s not very romantic.” Veneziano was on his front again, lying next to his brother. They had unplugged their room’s phone from the wall after it hadn’t stopped ringing earlier; they had more important things to do than go to the conference!
“It’s the only way that’ll work.”
“Ve, you keep saying that, Romano.”
“Because,” he drew the word out, “I should know. I was the one who lived with him for hundreds of years, remember? Spain’s a thick idiot; he wouldn’t know the difference between a date and a night out with friends. Or a bouquet and the world ending and me giving him flowers.” That wasn’t bitterness in his laugh. That was superiority, because Romano knew the difference between all of those things. “I’m surprised he even knows what the word ‘sex’ means.”
“If you say so… ve, maybe we could try to be subtle about it? It will feel all funny if we don’t.” Veneziano puffed out his cheeks. “We should be showing Spain how nice it is! Not just trying to be the first ones to have sex with him, ve. Then maybe he’ll do it more often; I bet it would make him happier.” He thought about it for a moment. Could Spain be happier than he usually was? What would that even look like? “Ve, what I meant was maybe his people would start feeling happier… our people influence us so the other way around should be true too, right?”
Romano frowned. “Spain doesn’t need to be doing anything with anyone.” He carefully avoided his brother’s eyes and added, “Except for with us. As soon as possible, if we don’t want France to get to him.”
“Ve,” Veneziano nodded his agreement, “that wouldn’t be any fun.”
The conference ended that evening, and the next day, both Italy brothers stood in the sun and the dirt in front of Spain’s main country home. It wasn’t the same one that Romano had spent so much time in, which was probably a good thing. Romano didn’t know if he could stand having to come on to the idiot in such a confusing house.
“Do you think Spain is the type to want to do it in the dark the first time?” Veneziano had opted to wait in the grass near the door when Spain hadn’t answered their knocking. Or their phone calls. He had to come home sometime, right?
Impatiently leaning against the door, Romano was not of the same opinion. If Spain didn’t answer the door in five more minutes… “He can get over it.”
“Hey Roma?”
Spain had three minutes now. Just because his brother was being annoying. “What?”
“Ve…what if Prussia was wrong?” Veneziano watched the clouds floating by. One looked like a sheep; another like a fluffy little cat. “What if Spain isn’t a virgin?”
The glare from the sun made it hard for Veneziano to read his brother’s features, even though he was standing in the shade of the porch. “Does that mean you don’t want to do it anymore?”
“No…”
“Then we don’t have any problems.” Romano fiddled with the items in his pockets; they’d brought all the materials necessary for a good time with the thought that Spain wouldn’t have any of his own. If Spain was really a sex maniac and his idiot friend had been lying… Romano didn’t know who he would hurt first, but he would get the both of them eventually. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more likely it was that Prussia was just off his rocker and Spain had already done it. Why wouldn’t he? And those thoughts made Romano angry, angry enough to cup his hands around his mouth and take desperate measures. “SPAIN! Open the fuck up or I’ll piss on your house again!”
It took a moment, but soon after Romano finished shouting he heard the hurried thumping of footsteps taking the main stairs three at a time inside. And then the front door opened, to a worried, disheveled looking Spain. “Roma?” He realized that Romano’s hands were nowhere near his fly and that there was, in fact, all of Italy on his doorstep. “And Venecia too?” Spain’s worry floated away, to be replaced by a sunny smile. “I love it when you two visit! Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
Veneziano had to ask as he followed his brother and Spain inside. “Spain, ve, were you sleeping?”
Spain paused next to his living room. “How could you tell?”
“Your shirt’s on backwards.” And his pants were dangerously close to falling off, but Veneziano didn’t feel the need to draw anyone else’s attention to that.
“It’s more like you look like you’ve just fallen out of bed, moron.” Romano walked straight through Spain’s rooms like he owned the place and sat down at the head of the Spain’s table. “Now get into your kitchen and start cooking, we’ll explain things to you when you’re done.”
Spain just shrugged and skipped off to make something for his guests, too used to Romano to mind his rudeness. “Brother,” Veneziano hissed once he disappeared into the pantry, “I thought we were being romantic, ve.”
“What’s romantic?” Since when had Spain had such good hearing?
Luckily, Veneziano was a master of both light conversation and confusion. “Ve, don’t you think pasta’s romantic, Spain?”
Spain’s voice was coming from the main part of his kitchen now; so maybe he had been walking in between rooms when he’d overheard Veneziano’s remark. “I guess so. I like paella too; and France was showing me some of his food earlier today and it wasn’t that bad, and—”
Romano cut in, hoping against hope that they hadn’t been beaten. Maybe they shouldn’t have stopped for lunch on the way to Spain’s house? “That bastard was here already?”
“It’s the weirdest thing, Roma.” Spain stuck his head around the corner. How had he gotten flour in his hair in under two minutes? “Usually nobody visits me except for you and my brother and France and sometimes Prussia when his brother kicks him out. But today it felt like everyone stopped by to chat!”
Veneziano and Romano were not twins; but sometimes they spoke in deadpan unison because it scared their boss and America and that was always fun to watch. And sometime they merely had the same thoughts. “They did.”
“Yeah! America wanted to show me one of his inventions, but I was still asleep, so he just left a note about it on my door. Japan called and said he wanted to watch a movie with me, which I thought was weird, but then Greece came and he wanted to wrestle and guess what?” Romano didn’t like where this was going. Greece knew his stuff… “I won! Really quickly too, I don’t think he’s in the right condition to fight nowadays; he went down after only a few hits.” Veneziano sighed and Romano winced outright. Poor Greece; he’d probably tried to get a few gropes in and all Spain had done was kick him in the balls. But Romano could have predicted that easily. Spain was too stupid to realize when someone was trying to set a mood; it was what he’d been trying to tell his brother all day! “And then France came around lunchtime and now you two are here! Today’s been a great day for Boss so far!”
“Hey Spain…” Oh great; Veneziano was using the ‘talk to cute girls’ voice. Hadn’t Romano told him that wouldn’t work? “Want to know something else that would make your day really great?”
Spain wandered out of the kitchen. Sometime during the conversation he had acquired an apron and a spoon covered in some sort of red sauce. Romano approved. “Oh! Let me guess! Let me guess!” He appeared to think for a moment. “Sex?”
Wait.
What?
“V-ve…what would make you say that?” “Fuck, you bastard; tell us what you know!”
Somehow, Spain managed to take the pan of pasta sauce off the burner, set down his spoon and pick Veneziano up off the floor all before loosening Romano’s grip from his collar. “No need to shout, Roma. It’s just that that’s what everyone’s been asking about when they’ve come around. Weird, right?”
“I knew it was too good to be true!” Romano and Spain turned to look at Veneziano after his outburst. All the disappointed nation had to offer was a shrug and a “…ve?”
Romano knew how worked up his brother could get in the pursuit of love (Or tail. It was hard to tell sometimes, with Veneziano). Spain, however, didn’t. “Venecia? What’s wrong?”
This was getting them nowhere fast. And it was looking dangerously like Romano would need to get some of his guys to kneecap Prussia; and he hated having to ask those guys for anything (Stupid muffins). “Look, have you or haven’t you slept with anyone before?”
But Spain had already gone back into the kitchen. Romano had to drag him out again, complete with his stirring spoon. Which he was licking. Bastard. “Sorry, I like having something to fiddle around with; my boss says I have a really small attention span. Who would have thought of it?”
“Everyone.”
“Roma?”
Veneziano couldn’t believe that they had been wrong… but it wasn’t looking like they had been right. Had he and Romano wasted a whole evening discussing how to get into Spain’s pants when they could have been talking to pretty girls instead? “Spain… how could you?” Maybe if he cried, Spain’s virginity would come back? (Perhaps he wasn’t being very rational, at the moment. But he’d really wanted to be Spain’s first time with Romano... it was looking like a lot of wine bottles before he would feel better again)
Romano didn't feel like being particularly rational either. “Then what were you doing with all of your colonies and 'trading' partners back then?” Everybody knew where little colonies came from… when they didn’t just pop up from behind a really large tuft of grass like they usually did. And even then, everybody knew what used to happen to colonies back in the 1500s. It was the reason why half the Americas still tried to trip Spain whenever he walked past them, right? Prussia had been wrong, so Romano was allowed to be angry, right?
“I don’t understand.” Luckily for Spain, he had already licked his spoon clean by the time he decided to start scratching his head with it. “I don’t have any colonies anymore.”
Veneziano felt his brother was justified in headbutting Spain to the floor.
“NO. You idiot. Did you ever have sex with your colonies?!”
Finally, Spain got it. Or part of it, at least. “I didn’t have sex with my colonies, Roma you should know that!” Spain looked genuinely alarmed. “You were one! And I never touched you like that; I never touched any of you like that. That would have been wrong of me.” Was that… was that a tear? No. Fuck no. Spain was not crying over this.
He was.
Veneziano was of the opinion that Spain had been watching too many of his own people’s television shows, but knew it wasn’t the time to say something like that; not if it was looking like somehow, Prussia had been right. Not if he and Romano wanted to get any! “Brother?”
Romano had his arms crossed and his head down and to the side. It was the position he usually assumed whenever he was about to delve back into his childhood nightmares of loneliness and abandonment. “…I always thought it was just me that was left out.”
“Roma!” Spain sniffled and wiped his eyes against his sleeve. Eyes dry, his emotions turned one hundred and eighty degrees, exactly, to his normal 'mildly pleasant.' “Do you need a hug?”
“No! You stupid bastard,” Romano snapped out of his temporary depression. It had taken a few hundred years, but he had gotten very good at it (It came from hanging around Spain so much, no doubt). “What kind of a nation are you if you haven’t done it yet?”
Spain tilted his head to the side and let his mouth fall partway open. “It?”
How had he lived with this moron for so long without dying? “You know what I mean.”
Veneziano decided to take the safe route. Maybe Romano had been right the night before. “Ve, brother, maybe he doesn’t.”
Romano scoffed and waved his arms. “Spain’s not that stupid, Veneziano.”
The country in question was, at that moment, chewing on a wooden stirring spoon and kicking his legs back and forth. At some point he had jumped up onto his kitchen counter. “…Roma… what’s going on?”
“Fine. Maybe he is.” That only meant that Romano got to be even more blunt than he’d originally planned to be. Enough was enough, and he’d gotten enough frustration out of this encounter already to give him enough steam to keep Spain going for hours. Damn but he couldn’t wait to just tie Spain down and get revenge for his stupidity… “Oi, Spain, my brother and I want to have sex with you.”
The spoon dropped to the floor. “Wha—”
“Shut up.” Veneziano helpfully picked up Spain’s spoon, and helpfully tossed it into the sink. Spain looked sad to see it go. “You’re too thick for us to romance properly, because we’re the real nation of love and usually we do things the right way…” Romano realized what he was saying and hurriedly backtracked. “Not that I would want to romance you!”
Veneziano skipped over to his brother’s side, now that things were progressing, and tried to work in at least a little romance before Romano could stop him. “What Romano’s trying to say is that we both like you very much.” He smiled before slyly whispering out of the corner of his mouth. “Ve, I think he’s also trying to not say some other things that he should probably be saying, ve, but that’s not really my place to say.” Or maybe he hadn’t been so sly, because he hadn’t seen his brother’s face that red in years. Not since Monte Carlo. “Do you understand now?”
At some point, Spain had stopped listening to Veneziano and started looking out the window. “The weather is really nice out today, oh!” He looked at the brothers as though he was seeing them for the first time in weeks. “Roma? Venecia? Did you two come to have a picnic with me?”
Veneziano was a little sorry for his brother; he hadn’t realized what he’d had to live with for all those years… sure Austria’s food was bad, but at least he had been able to hold a serious conversation (Luckily Hungary had saved the both of them from Austria trying to stumble through ‘the birds and the bees’). “Ve, not unless you want your first time to happen outside.”
Spain was now playing with his apron strings. “Hm?”
Romano had had enough. “I told you, Veneziano, nothing will work on him except the most direct route,” He grabbed both of Spain’s hands, just to still them. “Spain! We” he pointed to himself, his brother and Spain in turn “are going to have sex now. It will be the best fucking fuck you’ve ever had. Ever will have. And you will be goddamn thankful it was us and not anyone else.”
“Wait…” Spain looked down at his hands in Romano’s and then up at Veneziano’s chin on his shoulder. “You want to have sex with me?”
“Yes.”
He thought about it for a second. Well. He thought about something for a second. “Does this mean you both love Boss?”
Romano opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and looked away, blushing furiously. It was very silly, Veneziano thought fondly, that he had to do all of the work here. “Ve, just think of it as a gift for now, Spain. You’ll have fun, don’t worry.” He wrapped his arms around Spain in a loose hug. When Spain didn’t react violently, he tightened his embrace by a tiny bit (Moving too fast had earned Greece a ticket to the hospital, and while Veneziano planned to wake up to an unfamiliar ceiling, he absolutely hated hospital food).
Spain had thoughts again. They may or may not have been about sexual intercourse, or Veneziano or Romano or all three at once, but they were probably were, given how confused his face was. “Oh. Okay. But how am I supposed to put it in you two when there are two of you and one of me and neither of you is a woman?” He really wished he had his spoon back; it would make illustrating his points a whole lot easier.
Fully recovered, Romano shared a wolfish grin with his little brother. He then snapped his fingers in front of Spain’s face (“Stop looking at the sink, idiot!”) and proceeded to explain as Veneziano began unbuckling all three of their belts. “That’s cute, you bastard.” He winked, and somehow the gesture broke through Spain’s ever present daydream (Ah, it was just a few hundred years ago that I was telling Roma he was so cute in his apron. Time sure does fly). “You don’t have to worry about any of that today, caro, we’ll take care of you.”
And when Spain’s voice cracked when he spoke, (”O-Oh?”), Romano wasn’t quite sure if it was because Veneziano had begun licking Spain’s fingers or because he, Romano, had put a hand down his pants. Either way, he was proud that Spain had finally, hopefully, gotten it. When there were no more protests, comments about the weather or questions about why Veneziano’s fingers needed to be there or why Romano’s tongue was now doing that, he finally stopped worrying about it.
They had won.
Viva l'Italia.