There was dead silence in the house. It was looming, dreaded silence that could make anyone's ears ring. There was only a few small noises in the house; the buzzing of the ceiling fans in the downstairs rooms, the pleasant hum of the AC on full blast. Shallow, broken breathing came from the bathroom, startled eyes of the brunette male staring down at the item in his wavering, tan hands. The item was a light pink color, a small stick, and it had two pale blue lines running down the inside part. The breathing hitched.
Romano Vargas had been feeling ill lately. Throwing up one minute, feeling fine the next. He couldn't eat as many tomatoes anymore, or he would throw them all up. Headaches were another thing, and he always felt dehydrated. As much water as he drank, Roma always had to refill the glass and chug more down. His stomach was doing strange things, tightening and then it always felt super hard under his hand. He'd talked to Feliciano, as his brother was one of the few people he actually trusted with the information. The Northern Italian had offered him the pregnancy test. Though Lovino had scoffed and rolled his eyes, he'd taken it.
Now, he had taken it, and his hands were frozen around it, still shaking like a leaf.
"Roma!" The heavy Danish accent broke the suffocating silence, and dispelled any tension in the Italian for a moment.
Then it came crashing back and he forgot what he was going to say. Swiftly disposing of everything that had to do with the test, but the stick, which he wrapped in toilet paper and shoved in his pocket. He had to tell Mattias; he refused to be like the girls in his sappy romance novels who wait another month to tell their partner...he just wouldn't tell him right now.
"Roma? Are you home?" The voice again. Feeling the weight of the test in his pocket, Romano shoved the test and its wrappings into the garbage can and then straightened himself out. He was going to wait a while.
"Sí, I'm right here." He padded downstairs, where he was pulled into a huge hug. Guilt hurt his insides and he pulled away quickly, afraid that Matthias could feel the small bump residing on his waist. The Dane furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, "You usually love my I'm-home hugs. What's wrong?"
Lovino cursed himself. Why was he so easy to read? He was like an open book; anyone could read him. He was expressionative, and he couldn't help it. The Italian was sure he was pale and his eyes bloodshot, worry etched in his features. He was always open to Matt, no matter how hard he tried not to be. Italy forced a smile, "I'm fine."
"See, you're not fine. You don't ever just smile and say just that. You usually swear and push me away, muttering about how I worry too much. What's up? Have you been feeling any better?" His arms wound back around his boyfriend and Romano let himself fall against the sturdy chest. His mind was reeling. How did this happen? Is it even possible? Well, obviously, the test results were positive, so it had to be true. There was no reply from the brunette, so the blond cupped his cheeks and tilted his face up. A gentle kiss was pressed to his lips and that's when Romano broke.
"Matt." His voice was quiet. Delicate; so unlike the Italy that Denmark loved and knew. "Matt. I took a test today."
To try and dispel the tense air, Matthias gave a tight smile, "Oh really? You actually did something today?"
Lovino didn't react. He just kept talking, slipping his fingers into Matt's. He went on, eyes blank and voice monotone, "Surprise, bastard. You're going to be a father. I'm pregnant."
Denmark blinked. After a moment, he let out a loud 'whoop'.
Lovino watched with a slightly shocked look as the Dane began to jump around and babble on about how perfect this was and how amazing their baby was going to be; how spoiled he or she would be and how loved it would be. Romano let himself smile lightly. Having a kid...the smile fell. Although Denmark was a fully grown adult, he was still a child in many aspects. It was going to be like having two kids. The Dane was always hyped up on sugar or beer or something. Like a six year old..minus the beer part on the six year olds behalf. The frown he had was replaced with a grimace. He had to puke again. And Matthias was right there to help him to the toilet and rub his back; there to fix up his toothbrush with the minty toothpaste for when he was done. Always there to give him a comforting hug.
Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.
