Hetalia One-Shots

Spamano : Christmas Preparations❄️

Festivities have never been my thing. Everyone's so bright and cheerful, that kind of attitude is so tiring. If all the flickering lights and traditions weren't enough, you have to rush around the world to buy gifts for your "friends" and "family"... Like who even appreciates any of that? One thing worse than having to live through Christmas season, is having to live through it with Spain of all people.

Now I know my brother isn't much better, but the Spaniard clearly abuses! I mean, I have to wear ugly, scratchy, stinky sweaters everyday during the whole month of December (just the week before Christmas if I'm lucky), I have to help decorate and "convey the Christmas spirit" in our house, and I have to eat apple pies, stuffed turkey, candy canes, fondues and drink hot wine. Well, I guess I can't complain about the last category, I love eating and that Spanish bastard is a great cook (so am I, I just don't like putting effort in things that are not sleep or eating), so that part isn't so bad.

But I still have to go through all that commotion for one stupid holiday. It gives me the chills how children get so excited to open gifts one certain morning from an imaginary old man, then go outside and build snowmen, yes, out in the cold. How?

Speaking of that old man, I have many questions for the creators of that legend. How does he fit in a goddamn chimney? How does he travel around the world in one night? How come I've never met him (and I've lived long enough)? Why is he pictured as old and fat (Finland doesn't even have a beard and he's our Santa)? I've asked the Nordic about this and all he answered me was something about magic or believing crap... But most importantly, why the fuck do we have to leave him cookies and milk? Like who do you think you are? Every year I smell the delicious and dreamy odor of baked cookies from the oven, only to get swatted away with the following words, "Ah-ah-ah, these are for Mr. Santa Claus, you can't eat them otherwise you'll get coal instead of gifts in your stockings!"

Like I care if I get nerf guns or a new soccer ball... I know Spain buys all that for me anyway... By the way, the guy sucks at buying gifts. I'm probably just as bad but come on! For someone who claims that he loves me more than the world, he doesn't have the slightest clue what I could possibly want. I don't want toys (just a little is fine), nor do I want jewelry (unless it's a certain ring), I want to spend a quiet, antisocial evening watching stupid Christmas movies which will make both of us cry. I just want to be alone with Spain for the holidays, not always wrapped up in his flamboyant parties.

Spain says I'm like the grinch in real life. I've watched the movie (I watch it every year), and I do relate to the character. If he were real, we would be the best of buddies, I'm sure of it. Last year, Spain gave me a hideous Christmas sweater with the grinch's face on it saying "Merry Fucking Christmas." I love it, but it's itchy. I get a lot of those every year. Once Prussia sent me a red one with two ornaments and "balls" written in cursive. I wore it all season.

Right now there is one more week before Christmas and we're still decorating the house (well Spain is, I make him believe I'm doing something). After the complete transformation I hesitate to actually move out of the house for one month it being to much for me to handle. Then I think of my brother's house and laugh my ass off remembering he has ugly German decorations dangling from his door.

Our house ends up being a lighthouse seen from outer space, Spain being very influenceable by America (who's house puts ours to shame by the way). I like decorating some parts of the house, making sure Italian traditions are still respected. What would Nonno say if there wasn't at least one of us asserting our customs?
*

"Romanoooooo! Come down and help me with the tree please!"

I sigh and close my journal. The worst part of decorating is the tree. Its pines shed everywhere, they stick into your skin like needles and it's tall and hard to decorate.

"I'm coming," I shout back, pushing myself off my chair. I descend the stairs and head towards the front door. A freezing breeze crawls up my spine causing me to shiver. I arrive at the entrance and stand shocked.

Out of all the stupidest decisions Spain has made during the Christmas holidays, this is probably the dumbest. Stuck in our front door is a ginormous Christmas tree. Spain is clinging onto it with a cheerful grin. He is way too happy for such an occasion.

"Spaiiiiiin," I whine, "We talked about this..." I switch to his native tongue to make sure he understands I'm not pleased. His smile doesn't fall and he simply grabs both my hands.

"Romano... There is nothing wrong with wanting the best Christmas for the best person on this planet!" he exclaims kissing my nose. I raise an eyebrow and place my hands on my hips.

"Are you sure you're talking about me? It seems more like you're doing this for yourself," I trail on as he squeezes under the tree to go outside.

"Nonsense! I do it all for you, mi amor," he shouts over the green branches excitedly. I shake my head and grab the front of the tree. I begin pulling as he pushes. We manage to enter the festive plant and place it in our living room. I sit on the couch as Spain adjusts its position. The thing is so huge that everywhere I turn, its spiky, green shards poke me in the face.

After finding its perfect emplacement, Spain sends me to fetch the ornaments. I do as told, and slide them over to him. I watch, amused, as he tries to wrap the lights around the tree. It's far too wide and tall for him to manage, so I just leave cackling. I hear him whine at my departure, and come back soon after with a ladder for him to stand on. I sit down on the floor and pull out the little stars and candy canes from the cardboard box.

"Ornament please," he sings joyfully. I raise my eyes to hand him the glittery glass and freeze as he holds his hand out. He's stepping on the ladder with his face towards the tree and hand stretching backwards trying to meet mine. His body is contorted in such a way his godly ass was the only thing I focus on. I stare as I mindlessly hand Spain different ornaments. We finally reach the top of the tree and the golden star is left to place.

"Would you mind holding down the ladder as I go higher please?" he asks with an oblivious smile. I nod and rush over, almost tripping and falling head first in his perfect butt. I grasp both sides of the ladder and watch him carefully place the golden star on the top of the tree. He steps back down and stares at his work proudly.

"Hey, um, Spain? Don't you think we should decorate the fireplace too?" I ask with a plan in mind. The brunet's face lights up as he claps his hands together. He pulls me in for a kiss and runs out of the living room.

"You're right mi amor, I'll go get more ornaments!" he hollers from the hallway. I sit down in front of the hearth and wait. He quickly comes back another cardboard box in hand. He empties it and hangs tinsel around the fireplace. I simply sit back and watch him work, being able to fully admire my lover's forms.

"It's lovely!" he exclaims sitting next to me. His arm snakes behind my back and pulls me next to him. I unwillingly let him cuddle me as I admire our living room. "Hey Roma..."

"Mmh?" I respond lazily.

"How about we spend Christmas just the two of us this year? We could just watch movies, read books, bake cookies and pies, watch the snow fall... What do you say?"

I turn my head in surprise and see him staring at me dearly. Happiness engulfs me and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing his lips passionately. "I could never ask for more," I murmur against his smiling lips. Spain chuckles and ruffles my hair. He turns on our CD player and the song All I Want For Christmas plays. We both smile and entwine our fingers together as we listen to it and watch the blazing fire.