I thought of this one day when my cat licked my hair, and then I thought what would happen if a cat licked Romano's curl. Then I thought of a story, and realized Romano didn't have a cat. Then I thought of Spain's Turtles. More thoughts occured, and boredom drove me to write this.

It was longer on paper...

I do not own Hetalia! If I did, we'd all stick to our own genders.

"Dammit Spain!" The pouting charge's voice rung through the too-big-of-a-house, sending silence tailing after the harsh words.

Muttering profanities from God knows where he learned them, Romano charged out of his room, down the stairs, and to the kitchen.

He quickly spotted the owner of the house, and ran over, kicking his shin. He crossed his arms, glaring up at the chocolate curls of hair that belonged to the man with the now hurting leg.

"Ow! Lovi, that is so not cute!" Spain crowed, dropping whatever was helping to make dinner to attend to his throbbing shin.

"Serves you right, bastard! You made me come all the way down here to see what was taking you so long with my dinner!" Romano huffed, turning his head to glare at the wall. No, he was not regretting kicking him!

"Awww! Was my little Lovi was worried about me?" Spain cooed, and bent down to squeeze the now red cheeks of the stuttering and embarrassed eight-year old.

"Was not!" Romano managed to squeak out.

"Awww! Lovi's so cute when he looks like a tomato!~" Spain couldn't help but to pat his hair, then twirl his finger around the distinct twirl jutting from his favorite colony's head.

"CHIGIII!" The instant reaction was a fierce headbutt to the stomach.

The pain in his leg was a pinprick compared to the pain searing in his stomach. Unable to stand, Spain doubled over in pain.

"Pervert!" With a huff, the Southern half of Italy marched away, leaving a dying (over-reacting) Spain rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach. "And hurry with my dinner! I'm hungry!"

After around 8:00, they finished dinner.

"How about a bath with Big-Boss Spain?~" The only response was another headbutt to the gut.

"Fine, but while I'm in there, you need to take care of mi amigo! I haven't been able to play with him, so you can! Turtles can get very lonely, you know." Before Romano could reply, his hands were greeted with a small, hampster-sized turtle.

Not that he'd ever say this, but he could feel his heart flutter as he held such a small body of life.

"He's fast! So, don't let him out of your sight!" With that, Spain was off to the bath, snapping Romano out of his thoughts.

he set the little green reptile onto the carpet, and then straightened. After a few seconds, Romano began to glare. Spain lied! This turtle was NOT fast! Romano looked up in the direction Spain went, debating whether or not to charge at him lying. He eventually decided against it (no, he was not being nice, it was...just...too much trouble, dammit!) The first thing he noticed when he looked back down was the lack of turtle.

His eyes dashed around frantically, grateful when he found a flash of green.

"Hey!" He darted over, picking up the turtle. "You need to- Hey! Look at me when I'm talking!" He held the turtle to where it looked at him, but it kept squirming, wanting out of the grasp and to explore. Romano got angry.

He even tried for a good minute to get a good eye contact with the turtle, but then it looked away.

Frustrated, he set him on the floor.

This time, the turtle kept moving around, turning itself away. So the eight-year old had to get down on his hands and knees, grab the turtle to keep it still, and laid his chin flat on the ground.

"Now, listen to me!" Romano chatted, his chin never leaving the ground as he talked, so his head bobbed up and down.

So, Mr. Turtle got annoyed. He did what any normal turtle would do- get the person annoying him to shut up.

And he did so.

By reaching up, and snapping his mouth onto the bobbing hair curl.

The effect was instant, though not permanent.

It began with silence. Then, his eyes widened with realization. Cue the screaming. Romano shot up(turtle still clinging on), and began to frantically run around the room, panicking, unsure what to do. It even clamped tighter, causing Romano to scream bloody-murder, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

"R-Romano?" Spain could hardly be heard over the yelling. He stood in the doorway, confused, though with a look on his face to murder whoever was making his little Lovi scream like that.

Romano turned, charging to the half-naked Spain. He had just burst out of the tub, pulled on some pants(no boxers), and dashed out.

Romano clung onto the pants for dear life, tears flowing down his face.

"Get it off! It hurts!" He tried to sound brave, but it only came out in sobs through his tears.

"Can't we just pull it out?" Romano paled, and cried even more.

"Just, get it off!" Romano cried some more, gasping slightly as Spain took ahold of the turtle.

He gently began to stroke the underside of its neck, shushing, and it let go.

Romano gasped, being so surprised he accidental tugged down Spain's pants...

"And, why, may I ask, is that your favorite childhood memory? Out of all the important childhood memories, that one is your favorite?" Romano and Spain sat on their bed, cross-legged, facing each other.

"Yep!" Spain piped up happily. Spain had been the one to ask about their favorite childhood memories. Thus pulled up the previous story.

"Do I even want to know why it's your favorite?" Romano rolled his eyes, hoping his rhetorical question would go unanswered for once.

"But of course Lovi! Two very important things happened that day! I found out you hate it when turtles grabbed onto your curl, and that was the very first time you ever saw my-" Spain was cut off by a hand flying to his mouth.

"GODDAMMIT IF YOU SAY IT!" Romano spluttered out, his cheeks flaming red.

"Awww, Romano!~ You look like a tomato!"

"So says the bastard where exposing his manhood to the innocent is his favorite memory..." Romano growled, rolling his eyes.

"But, that wasn't the only thing I remember from that memory! I said you hate it when turtles grab your curl." Spain smirked.

"Yeah. So?" Romano wasn't catching on.

"Well, you never said you hated it when I did it." Before Romano could process what he had said, Spain reached up and roughly tugged on the curl.

Instead of a headbutt he would have gotten back then, he got a bruising kiss from his little Lovino.

The ending line was originally 'a mouthful of Lovi', but that confused many of my friends, making them think VERY dirty thoughts...you know, it would be kind of hard(or painful) to suddenly thrust upward...and...yeah...so, I changed it.

Tell me how I did! I love reviews! And do tell me about typos, etc.

Oh, and mi amigo means my friend.