Romano sighed in irritation as his younger brother flitted around him fixing his hair or straightening out a crinkle in his shirt. "Veneziano! Stop it!" He snarled, smacking the younger's hand away. "I look fine." he growled.

"Sorry, fratello. I just wanted to make sure you look nice for your date." Italy apologized a smile on his face.

"I-it's not a date!" Romano stuttered, feeling the blush flood to his face. "It's just ice cream," Ice cream with a person he might have, sort have liked and that he had been seeing for the past few weeks. But in no way was this a date!

"Okay, Romano. Oh, you're hair!" Italy said, reaching his hand towards his brother's hair, only to be smacked away again.

"Stop it! I'm leaving now and it'll be your fault if I'm late!" Romano growled, grabbing his jacket then headed for the door. "And I don't want that potato bastard here when I get back!" He added, checking to make sure he had his keys in his pocket. The older Italian then glanced to his brother, voice unnaturally quiet. "Um...I-i look nice right?"

"Si, very nice!" Italy smiled widely. "Now go before you're late for your date."

"It's not a date!" Romano growled, scowling. "Don't wait up," He said gruffly, leaving out their large home to his car. He drove quickly-as only an Italian can-hands griping the steering wheel nervously. "It's only ice cream, Romano." He said to himself as he pulled up to the little shop they had agreed to meet. "It's not like you're obliged to hug him or tell him he looks nice..."

Exiting the vehicle, the nervous Italian slowly walked into the ice cream shop, still muttering encouragements to himself when he stopped. There he was. America. He was sitting down in a booth, a small smile on his face-much different than his normal expression, one could that be counted as anxious or...nervous. He looked around the shop before his eyes landed on Romano and his expression changed from nervous to as if hearing he had won the lottery. He smiled and waited for his companion-not date-to join him. "Hey!" The American greeted him enthusiastically. "You look really nice," And there went that damn, embarrassing blush again! Romano wouldn't admit it but so did he. The American had traded in his normal attire for a crisp, white button down shirt-a tiny flag on the breast pocket-and black dress pants. He cleaned up nicely.

"Tsh, what ever." The Italian muttered, sitting on the other side of the booth, facing the blond. He couldn't help but be rude, it was just the type of country-half of a country at least-that he was yet it didn't even seem to phase America. He just smiled his dopey, America smile. It unnerved the southern part of Italy but also sent butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He flushed at the sensation and stared down at the table wondering why it was only America that could make him feel like this.

Just then a waitress appeared, two bowls of ice cream in her hands. One looked like a rainbow had thrown up on it and was covered in sprinkles-she set it down next to America, thank God-and the other was simply red, set next to Romano. "I hope you don't mind. I kind of already ordered for us." America said, almost shyly as though he hoped he hadn't made a mistake in doing so. Romano frowned at him and picked up a spoon, poking the dessert.

"What flavor is this? Strawberry? I swear to God Alfred-" He then gasped and stopped, biting on his lip. Romano never called anyone by their human name except for his brother and even then that was far and few. Yet here he was, on a da-hanging out with America that was in no way romantic and he just blurted out the American's name like he'd been doing it his whole life! 'Dios!' He thought, knowing his face was glowing red. In the words of Spain-bastard-he probably looked like a tomato. "I-i mean I-" The American then started to laugh, starting out as a giggle then crescendoed. He thought it was funny? "Hey! W-what are you laughing at, bastard?" Romano asked, wanting to just disappear.

"I'm sorry!" The American wheezed. "It-it's just your face!" Before the brunette could even cover his blushing cheeks in embarrassment, America had caught his hands. "Don't. You didn't let me finish. Your face, it's cute." He giggled again. "It's like a strawberry."

"Strawberry?" The Italian blinked slowly. Well...it was slightly better than a tomato he figured(though why everyone kept comparing him to a damn fruit was a mystery).

"I like strawberries," America said, smiling gently at the blushing country, still holding his hands.

"I-i-i..." The amber-eyed man stuttered, trying to think of something to say-anything!-but his tongue failed him. What was wrong with him today? His mouth didn't want to work properly. Finally, Romano just decided to take his hands back and eat his ice cream. Tomato flavored...his favorite. He looked to the blond in surprise, eyes wide. " It's tomato. How did you know?" He asked.

"You like tomatoes. I took a wild guess,"

"Stalker!" America giggled while the Italian swallowed another spoonful down. "That's um...nice-for a stalker at least. Uh...thank you," The blond paused then smiled his thousand kilowatt smile, teeth gleaming. He looked so stunning, Romano forgot to breath for a moment and the spoonful of ice cream he was aiming for his mouth grazed his cheek instead.

"Lovino?" America said, snickering. It took the stunned country a moment to remember that was his name.

"W-what? I wasn't s-staring." The blond giggled as the Italian's face began to glow again. 'Just shut up already!' He snarled to himself, frowning gently. The American giggled again then leaned in gently, Romano's eyes widening as he gently brushed his lips against the side of his mouth.

"You had some ice cream right there. I got it for you." America said pleasantly. The Italian made a strangled noise than furrowed his brow, attempting anger but it failed him every time he thought about the American's lips-soft and wet.

"D-don't do that," He stuttered, eating more of the ice cream-taking care to eat more carefully. "I could have got it, thank you very much!" He growled.

"Sorry. Besides I wanted to try some." The blue-eyed man smiled at him and Romano could feel his heart jump in his throat momentarily before adverting his eyes.

"If you wanted some, you could have just asked...bastard." He gently pushed the bowl forward, offering the creamy dessert. The American lighted up and dipped his spoon in, taking a giant spoonful and stuck it back in his mouth. He closed his eyes in contentment then licked his lips.

"You wanna try some of mine?" He offered, pushing his own bowl forward. Romano blanched, staring at the colorful mess.

"Uh no," He said bluntly, pushing it back. "It looks like a rainbow took a shit on it," he added, watching the American's face fall for a moment before he smiled again.

"If you say so," He said, between a mouthful of ice cream. The blond then looked around for a moment before motioning for his friend to come closer, as though he had a secret to tell him.

"What is it?" Romano asked, leaning in a little then caught the look on America's face. Once again too slow, before he could pull back their lips collided. The first thing the Italian noticed was that the blond tasted like...cotton candy. Sugary sweet, as though he had just gotten done eating a bag full. But underneath that was the underlying taste of hamburgers-he should have known-but something else...apple pie? Somehow the mixture should have turned him off but he felt himself actually liking it-or was it just the fact that America's tongue was gently massaging his?

Finally, America pulled back, a smile on his face. "Good huh?" he asked as though he hadn't just shared one of the most disgusting-if strangely sweet tasting-kisses in Romano's life!

"You...you bastard!" Romano growled, scowling. So yeah he might have liked it but it wasn't like he was going to tell this bastard. "Don't you ever do that again!" Unless of course he said so but once again, he wasn't going to admit that.

"Hehe, sorry. I just wanted you to taste it and that was the only way I could think of. It wasn't too bad was it?" His tone of voice made Romano wonder if he was talking about the ice cream or the kiss. Grinding his teeth together the Italian stood up, scowling fiercely.

"Stupid cocky fucker!" He snarled. "I'm leaving!" He growled, beginning to march away but was grabbed by the American.

"Please don't leave," America pleaded, blue eyes wide. "I-i'm sorry. If I knew you were going to get mad I wouldn't have done it." Romano glared at the man then folded his arms over his chest. "Please don't leave. I...I'll make it up to you." He offered.

"How?" The Italian growled.

"Movies tomorrow?" He smiled gently, hopping that would appease the angry Italian.

"You pay?" Romano asked, a hint of a smirk on his face.

"For everything!" America smiled then pulled him back down onto the booth, seating him next to him. He then sighed and glanced to the boy. "I'm going to run out of money at this rate." He said.

"Well, if you didn't fuck up every time we went out you wouldn't have to pay for everything." Romano scolded him, dipping a bit into his ice cream.

"I'm sorry. I promise, tomorrow, no fuck ups." America said, placing his hand on his heart.

"Good. And I swear next time you try to kiss me with a mouth full of ice cream I'm punching you in the face so hard England will feel it." America sniggered gently then placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I wouldn't expect anything less,"

A/N: Strange. I seemed to have suddenly fallen for America/Romano all of sudden. I've always like Romano/Spain(in that order thank you very much) but for some reason I think I like America/Romano better. -shrug- Me and my weird shippings. I can't just flow with everyone else, first Prussia/Italy now America/Romano. I don't even want to think about what's going to be next on my list. But whatever! I hoped you enjoyed this short little fic! Now back to writing the next chapter of my other story. Please comment, grazie! ~Ciao! Love Stripes!