Two halves of chaos (hetalia-Countryhuman-crossover)

Chapter 12

Romano, Spain, Spain, and Vatican City were now sitting in a kitchen, situated upstairs, on the first floor. Somehow, with much arguing (obviously) they had went from a room in the basement filled with some cluter- slightly organized, but not very much- and when the group went upstairs, they walked to the well-lit kitchen, where Spain realized it was near lunch time. And with that in mind, the Spaniard chose to start making lunch.

But as they were walking upstairs, Romano consistently glared at both Spain and Vatican City. Spain had chidded Romano just a few minutes before, and now the Italian was mad- and sad, but that was hidden- and Romano was muttering insults, calling Spain a bastard, the two strangers were being called idiots- well, you get the gist. Hopefully.

Anyhow, as he was cooking, Spain tried to start up a few conversations. Like so;

"Who are you? I am Spain!" 

"I am also Spain."

"No, there is only one Spanish bastard, and it's him." Romano stated, pointing at Spain, who was now focused on putting a platter of uncooked pizza in the stove. He turned around, closing the stove door, when he heard his name. His grin could light up the world- and the Spaniard wrapped his arms around Romano, taking him in to a tight embrace. Romano wore a frown, the frown being fake (he secretly liked the hug), and Spain cried out;

"Lovi~!!! Am I really the only Spain for you~?"

"Get off me, you damn bastardo! Sto-"

"Uh... Sorry to interupt the love, but he is not the only Spain here...? Not the only people here as well, there is me and Vatican City here- Please stop hugging your bible and stop glaring, please-"

Indeed, Vatican City had begun to glare and he was also griping one of his millions of Bible's he had collected over the course of time.

Spain, a light blush on his face and a small tear in his right eye along with a huge grin that was resisting the urge to laugh, turned back to the cooking pizza's, as Romano had brutally pushed the Spaniard away, complaining, and spouting bullshit such as;

"I don't like him, he hugged me, I didn't hug him, and I didn't want to hug him, you damn bastards! You fucking assholes!"

Vatican was now whispering rite passages from the Bible, asking for the forgiveness of the Lord, all the meanwhile looking at the scene before his eyes.

"Thee needeth to wend to church. All of thee!" (You need to go to church. All of you1)

Vatican finally snapped, using his 'priest' voice. Or, as most of the other countries would say, 'obnoxious and annoying voice'. As America calls it; 'Smart-ass-asshole voice'. Canada called Vatican City the same way as America, just a lot less rudely, and in a kinder way (*cough* Maple syrup hating piece of yellow snow *cough*)

Just as Romano was about to unleash his fury, Spain turned around, with a cheery smile with a hint of some unknown feeling hidden in his eyes (France would call it love).

"Pizza is ready, Romano!"

.

.

.

Denmark, now officially having visited every site and attraction he could without being an official visitor who paid for entry, moved to get some food. 

What? He was hungry! 

As he walked to the stand, where they were selling whatever food they sold (I'll leave it up to your imagination), Denmark accidentally- ACCIDENTALLY. KEEP THAT IN MIND- bumped into a man who was passing by- the same man who had seen him matearalize from thin air and had been watching him earlier. With the moment of imbalance from bumping into the man, Denmark took a small step forwards, somehow stumbled on his own feet, and tripped over the lady-in-line before-him's feet. Besides the Denmark, who was now laying on the floor, slightly stunned, lay a bag with- presumably- food that was spilling, and getting slightly ruined. Especially when a kid tread over it.

Denmark let out a small yelp, picked up the bag, put the food back inside, and looked up to find a man glowering at him. And, there was the cute- cute, in a little-sister-cute, or you're-such-a-bean-cute sort of way- girl behind him, and she was acting slightly nervous and fidgety.

Holding the bag up, to give it back, Denmark saw food fall out of a hole that had torn the paper brown bag. With a nervous chuckle, feeling like crap, Denmark offered;

"How about I just buy you a lunch, in exchange that I don't get killed for ruining your lunch?"

Seeming to find that somewhat acceptable, the glowering blonde man nodded. 

And with that, Denmark bought a not very expensive lunch for himself and for the other two. 

The lunch area, quite crowded, had only one table free. Denmark was the first to be sitting down, and a few minutes later, after their search for a table came to a defeat, the man and the girl sat down at the same table as Denmark.

.

During the lunch, Denmark introduced himself- kindly, of course- but the man simply ignored him. Well, that was, until Denmark said he was 'Denmark'.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Welp. I tried-