Flower [Hetalia]

❥ chapter IV

The next morning, you were standing in the kitchen, dressed and prepared for the day, and making breakfast for both Antonio and you, although you didn't know when he was going to wake up. Just then, a pretty hung-over Spaniard trudged into the room, scuffing his feet over the tiled floor. Speak of the devil.

"Good morning, Toni," you said extra quietly so as to not make his headache worse and poured a quarter of a cup filled with batter mix into a pan standing on the stovetop. "I'm making crêpes."

"Buenos días, preciosa," Antonio replied in a gruff voice and stifled a yawn. You heard him walking up to you and your back began to tingle lightly as an indication of his presence behind you. Seconds later, he rested his chin on your shoulder and his hands on your hips, pressing his firm chest against your back.

Antonio was like a totally different person when he was hung-over, and so were Francis and Gilbert. To be honest, it had freaked you out a lot the very first time you had seen them this way because you had only been used to the carefree Antonio, the egoistic Gilbert, and the overly affectionate Francis, and you had suddenly and utterly unexpectedly had to handle the complete opposites of their personalities.

"Hey, easy there, Toni," you laughed, wriggling free of his grip and playfully jabbing your elbow in his ribs. "I'm not one of those girls you picked up last night. You can't pull that on me." You turned your full attention back to the pan, but added, "There's a glass of water and some painkillers on the countertop over there."

The tingly feeling in your back caused by Antonio's very close proximity to you vanished when he stepped back. "Gracias." From the corner of your eye, you saw him downing the entire glass of water along with two painkillers and then sitting down at the kitchen bar.

There was a pleasant silence between the two of you. The only sounds you heard were the clattering of cutlery against the frying pan and the quiet sizzling of cooking oil in said pan, until you finished making breakfast. Carefully laying the last crêpe on top of a small crêpe tower on a plate, you carried the plate and two empty ones over to the bar while Antonio got a package of powdered sugar, a little sieve, a bottle of chocolate syrup, and two forks.

You sat down next to him at the kitchen bar. After shovelling a couple of crêpes on your plate, you dusted them with lots of powdered sugar and drowned them in chocolate syrup.

Antonio did the same, but not as exaggerated as you. He even shot you a look with a raised eyebrow à la "Are you serious?" to which you bowed your head in affirmation and shoved half of a crêpe dripping with dark brown syrup into your mouth.

The breakfast was spent in silence as well. Antonio was a man of very few words when hung-over, and you didn't want to carry on a one-sided conversation. Trying to get him to talk was like pulling teeth. You noticed that he was constantly rubbing over the dark circles under his dull eyes and yawning, obviously still tired as hell.

After he had finished up his crêpes, he made a move to take the dishes, most likely to put them into the dishwasher, but you placed a hand on his arm and said, "Thanks, but I'll do that. You better go catch some z's to get rid of that nasty hangover."

A rather forced-looking, yet genuine smile flitted across his face as he handed you the plates and forks. "Muchas gracias y hasta más tarde."

"No problem, Toni. And, by the way, I'm gonna go into town later, just so you know. I'll be back soon though."

He gave you a brief nod of his head, strolled over to the couch, and unhesitatingly hurled himself onto it, causing it to give an alarmingly loud creak. Without doubt, he fell asleep near-instantly.

After cleaning up the kitchen, you threw on the same leather jacket from very earlier this morning, slipped into heeled boots and put your smartphone, your bunch of keys, and your wallet in your pockets. You checked on Antonio one last time—he was sleeping soundly—and then, you left your house and drove into the city.

About fifteen minutes later, you reached your destination, having parked your car at the outskirts of the town center and moving through the streets by foot. You were standing in front of a little flower shop which you would have easily failed to see because it was squeezed between two bigger and more eye-catching stores, if Tim hadn't told you the other day that he was buying his flowers and seeds here. You hoped that you also would be able to get what you were looking for in this shop.

Without further ado, you entered. A pleasantly chilly temperature replaced the warmth of the sun and of many people moving around in one place; it was accompanied by the scent of countless different flowers, almost overwhelming you. Shelves, tables, wooden boxes, and every other possible storage place was crammed full with large, colourful buckets of flowers of all kinds and colours, even the ground, thus only leaving a narrow path to the checkout counter. You had never seen so freaking many flowers in one place before. You hadn't even deemed it possible to fit this many flowers in a shop as small as this.

While eyeing the plethora of beautiful flowers and looking for something that caught your eye, you manoeuvred around the buckets as cautiously as humanly possible. You didn't want to knock over one of these water- and flower-filled buckets under any circumstances.

"Good day! What can I do for you, Miss?"

Upon suddenly hearing a female voice, you lifted your head to look at the young woman who had mysteriously appeared behind the counter although you hadn't heard footsteps or any other noise that could have indicated her appearance. "Good day, Miss," you returned her greeting, smiling at her. "I'm looking for a bouquet as a gift."

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buenos días, preciosa = good morning, gorgeous

gracias = thanks

muchas gracias y hasta más tarde = thanks a lot, and see you later