Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.

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Minimal fluff 09!

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Tomato Power

It wouldn't really have been a big deal otherwise, but as Romano enjoyed Spain squirm (almost sadistically, some might say), he couldn't let this perfect opportunity pass. Barging into the peninsula's house unannounced to find some food, he came across the curly haired nation sitting outside, scratching himself feverishly.

"Whoa, Spain. I didn't know you were part dog," Romano mocked, chewing on the dried tomato he found. "I knew you were an idiot, but this is ridiculous."

"I have a reason!" Spain replied cheerfully, as if acting like a canine was normal if one had some circumstances behind doing so. Holding up his arm, he displayed a couple of bug bites, red and obvious like war scars.

"You have rabies."

"No! It's mosquito season." Turning back to his work, Spain continued scratching himself as Romano watched amusedly. "I was working outside and then I started itching. It's sort of stopping me from being productive."

"Heaven forbid," Romano replied sarcastically. He popped another piece of dried tomato in his mouth. "Why don't you relieve your itching with cold water or ointment?"

Spain stopped, looking up at Romano blankly. "It never crossed my mind."

Grumbling, Romano pulled Spain from the gazebo to the house. "Where would you be without me?"

"Well, certainly that seventeenth century vase would still be on display in my parlor."

"I was little! Forget about it already, dammit!"

Romano hadn't lived in his house for centuries already, but Spain was still amazed how the boy found his way around the numerous rooms in his house. He had only been sitting on the couch for a moment, reaching to make the itching go away when Romano had returned, ointment in hand and a glare on his face, daring him to touch the sores. Quickly taking his hand away, Spain stayed still as Romano tended to his wounds (whoa!! How many times when they were younger did he wish this would happen instead of the Italian beating him for treading blood onto the carpet?! Dreams do come true!).

"How do you still remember this place so well?" Spain asked, after breathing a sigh of relief as the cold cream stilled the irksome tremors temporarily. Romano smeared another dollop of cream onto the q-tip he had been using.

"Let's just say I only spent half of the time actually 'cleaning'," he muttered, pressing the cream against a particularly nasty bug bite. Spain hissed, before deflating completely and letting himself be at the mercy of this ointment wielding nation. "I still got lost though."

"Did you ever end up finding the bathroom anyway?"

"Yes, three days after I needed to use it! Dammit, I always say your damn house is too big." Slapping the red mark on Spain's arm like it had just insulted his mother, Romano looked up at him. "Any more troubles?"

"No." As Romano cleaned up the cream he spilled on the sofa (ar, another piece of furniture bleached by Romano), Spain cocked his head. "Say, Romano. You never complain about bugs. Surely you can't have that strong of a bug spray?"

"I don't use bug spray."

"Then how are you fine?"

"There are other ways of keeping bugs away!" Leaving the uncapped cream to ooze onto the carpet, Romano crossed his arms. "For example, since I live in a place full of tomatoes, our villa is basically shielded against pests like yours."

"Tomatoes keep bugs away?"

"Obviously, as I'm living proof."

"But I have tomatoes too." Spain pointed to a bag he left sitting on the table, already anticipating Romano's visit. Romano tutted like an inpatient mother.

"Not enough, you idiot. It wouldn't hurt to take a bath in tomatoes."

"You bathe in tomatoes?" He knew Romano loved the fruit (not vegetable!), but he didn't think the latter had it in him to actually immerse himself in the stuff. Then again, he shared the same house as Italy, and Italy hung around Germany, where all the weird stuff came from. Maybe it was rubbing off.

But a tomato bath? Maybe he had heard wrong. But no, he actually had, as Romano continued. "I'm not talking about just tomatoes, idiot. I mean, you run a bath and along with the soap, you put in some tomatoes. It's actually quite comfortable. I sort of want one now."

"Whoa."

"There's also tomato paste. You don't just keep it on though, like my stupid younger brother. Germany almost had an ulcer when he thought someone had attacked him. Nope, you just leave it on briefly before taking it off. It really works." Romano stopped as he noticed the look Spain was giving him. "What?"

"So it would be beneficial to put tomato paste on yourself to keep the bugs away?" Spain asked slowly. Romano nodded, looking annoyed at this apparent slowness.

"Would it hurt to put it all over?"

Romano stared for a moment. "All over as in…?"

"All over."

The brunette smirked. "I guess it's okay. But it would be frustrating to do it all by yourself."

"I'm not doing it myself! You like the stuff, so I'd want you to be with me! Besides," Spain purred, leaning closer onto the smiling Italian, "I wouldn't want you to be attacked by blood suckers while we're working on me."

"And how exactly are we going to get all this tomato paste off ourselves when we're done?"

"Oh, I was thinking along the lines of licking it off…" Before he could even finish his thought, Spain was pulled up by Romano, who had one hand grasped around his collar, the other holding the bag of tomatoes. Stumbling over each other to a vacant, dark room, Romano smirked in his ear.

"I like your idea for once, idiot."

"I knew you would."

Owari

Omake~

"Hey, stupid little brother, do my laundry."

Italy shot up from the lunchbox he was currently constructing for Germany, including foods shaped into the German flag along with the Italian flag with little hearts in between them. Romano looked over his startled brother's shoulder and shook his head. "I understand you're willing to bring yourself down to that man's level, but please don't include me."

"B-but Germany l-likes my lunchboxes!" Italy protested. Romano ignored him as he shoved his clothes and sheets into his brother's currently empty arms.

"Wash these."

"Can't you wash them?"

"No." Plucking a tomato from the German flag, Romano plopped himself on the couch, in front of the television showing a soccer match. Italy was speechless as he fought internally between scolding his brother for ruining his work or crying for the same reason. Well, this was Romano they were talking about, and he still had to do his laundry anyway. Giving up, Italy started for the laundry room when a spot of color caught his eye.

"Romano! What is this?!" Dropping the armful of laundry, Italy jumped over next to Romano, holding up the sheets in question. There was an ugly red smear across the pearly white.

"Bed sheets," Romano replied, not tearing his eyes from the match.

"But…" Italy sputtered. "You're not a girl, so this isn't normal at all! Oh! It's Spain, isn't it! Has he been hurting you? How dare he! Did he do this to you?!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Romano! I can't believe you! Oh, I'm going to kill him! He can't hurt my brother!" Crying out, Italy dashed out of the house in the direction of Germany's house, off to cry about his brother's apparent abuse and plea for help to crush Spain.

"Oh well," Romano mumbled carelessly, reaching for the forgotten lunchbox.

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Note: What?! OCC Hetalia? But yes, I think Romano's gotten over his denial in this one and Italy's pretty fierce. Yep, I'm ending my hiatus as I finally got back from my trip, which actually inspired this fic. I watched this ad on TV about some cream made from tomatoes or something that keeps mosquitoes away. What else to do but write a tomato-centered fanfic? Yeah? I actually don't know if this is true, but it's quite funny. Review!