Chapter Text
It was May when Spain caught word that his Grandfather Rome had passed away, leaving behind his two little cousins, Italy and Romano. With no other close, safe family to go to, Spain decided to be the young boys’ new guardian. He already had alot of responsibilities, like running a café as a young business owner, and bearing the weight of his chaotic family life. There is no other stable adult in their life; I have to be their caretaker, Spain thought to himself, dreading the idea of letting his cousins live with their messy extended family. Having a strained relationship with his cousin close in age, Spain didn't want to repeat his family's cycle of conflict. had already gone through the pain of an unstable home life, as his parents divorced and left him to fend for himself, and he wouldn’t be any better than them if he left his cousins in the dark.
“As of today, you will now be their permanent legal parent.”
Hearing these words meant that the painstaking kinship adoption process was finally over, allowing Spain to breathe a sigh of relief. He went to the foster care center to pick up his little cousins, Italy and Romano, to take them back to his flat. The drive home was unusually quiet - when Spain was younger, he never struggled to socialize with his younger cousins, but it had been a few years since he last saw them, and grief wasn’t treating them well. Speaking of grief, Spain had been so caught up in adopting his cousins that he forgot he lost his Grandfather too. Maybe all of them cried on the way home, but Spain didn’t have it in him to check the rear-view mirror.
“And this will be your guys’ new room.” Spain had carried both Italy and Romano’s luggage up the stairs to his flat, setting up the guest room as their bedroom. The little boys started to warm up to the idea of their new life upon examining the bedroom: a bay window with a reading nook. Perfect for young ones who love to nap in the sunshine. There was a nautical-themed mobile that swung gently between the two twin beds, matching the ocean view from their window. Both boys quietly unpacked their luggage, taking out what mattered to them most, such as quaint stuffed animals and children’s books. Spain watched them quietly from the doorway, planning to periodically check in on them as he continued to tidy up the flat.
He started by cleaning up the kitchen, making room for two new seats at the small dining table that sat in the corner. Spain thought it would be a good idea to make cups and bowls more accessible to his tiny cousins by placing them on lower shelves, and moving the knives and cast-iron pans to places they couldn’t reach. He laughed at himself, remembering how he used to pretend to be a knight by wielding a knife and a cast-iron skillet as a makeshift shield, anticipating that Italy and Romano would have the same playful imagination as he once did. “I think they like tomatoes too,” Spain muttered to himself, having fed his cousins fresh tomatoes from the garden from time to time in the past. He plucked some small cherry tomatoes from his windowsill garden and placed them in a ceramic bowl on the table, up for grabs.
After some time of kid-proofing the kitchen, Spain checked the time and realized it was almost 6 o’clock. They must be pretty hungry, Spain thought to himself as he went to go check on Italy and Romano again. “¡Oye! Dinner is soon, you two.” Spain knocked on the door before heading into their room. Much to his surprise, both boys were passed out on the floor, clutching their stuffed animals. “Ay, mis bichitos…” Spain crawled onto the floor to observe his little cousins and gently wake them up. He brushed the hair out of both of their faces, softly shaking their shoulders at an attempt to awaken them. Italy yawned and stretched out his arms, still holding the tiny stuffed cat he snuggled with. “I’m hungry…” Italy mumbled, still half asleep.
Romano on the other hand was still out cold. It would take a while until he was ready to wake up. “It’s dinner time, Italy,” Spain smiled warmly, stroking Italy’s soft hair. “What should big brother Spain cook for you?” Italy’s eyes widened with joy at the mention of dinner. To no one’s surprise, he happily exclaimed “Pasta!”
“But what kind?” Spain giggled, he had some dry pasta in the pantry and could whip up a quick sauce, as long as Italy let him know specifically what he wanted. “Um, al pomo.. pomodoro!” Italy held a finger to his mouth as he decided on what exactly he wanted to eat for dinner. I guess it doesn’t matter what type of pasta it is, as long as it’s pasta with tomato sauce, Spain thought. “Can I help?” Italy asked as he stood up to face Spain. “Of course, mijo.” Spain grabbed Italy’s hand and led him to the kitchen, a part of the flat he hadn't seen yet. “Woah…” Italy gasped as his eyes met the colorful cabinets and tiles of the kitchen, admiring the plates and produce on display. “Is this where we will be eating? Forever?” Italy asked, craning his neck to see what lied on top of the counters. “Forever’s a long time!” Spain replied. “So I’m not staying here forever?” There was a hint of sadness in Italy’s voice upon hearing Spain’s response.
“For you, Italy.” Spain remembered that children’s concept of time is much different from adults'. “Yes, this is where we will be eating. Forever.” He squeezed Italy’s hand as an act of reassurance, hoping that the little boy would know his cousin would never leave him behind.
Spain brought out some measuring spoons, olive oil, and a bowl for Italy to use. “Do you think you can fill up this spoon 3 times with oil and place it in the bowl?” Spain asked as he handed Italy a 15 mL measuring spoon. “Yes!” Italy replied cheerfully as he carefully attempted to measure the olive oil. He spilled some here and there, but overall, he did a pretty good job. “Done!” he proudly exclaimed, waiting for the next task. “Great job, Italy!” Spain gave Italy a quick round of applause before grabbing some larger tomatoes from a fruit bowl near the oven. “Now, I am going to have you wash these under some water, okay?” Spain directed Italy as he placed 4 tomatoes on the counter near the sink. He brought up a stool as well so that Italy could reach the sink.
Italy began washing off the tomatoes as Spain brought out a large pot. When Italy was finished, Spain filled the pot with water to boil the tomatoes. Once the tomatoes were boiled, Spain started to make a simple sauce with garlic, the olive oil Italy measured, and then of course, the tomatoes. As the sauce was simmering, Spain started another pot of water for the pasta. Linguine, this time, as Italy couldn’t decide what pasta he wanted. Spain preferred Linguine as it was the perfect middle ground - not too thick, not too thin, and long enough to be considered a real noodle. Well, to Spain, atleast.
“Fratellone is so good at cooking!” Italy exclaimed, waiting patiently at the dinner table for the pasta to be done. Spain laughed off the compliment; it really was a simple recipe, difficult to mess up. But he still appreciated the praise. “Thankyou, hermanito.” Spain responded as he was stirring the pomodoro sauce, careful as to not let it burn. Suddenly, little footsteps approached the kitchen.
“Che fai…” Romano said, as he hobbled into the kitchen with a thin blanket wrapped around him.
“Fratellino!” Italy spun around to greet his little brother “È ora di cena! Linguine al pomodoro! Il tuo preferito, no?” Italy hopped out of his chair to hold Romano’s hands and spin him around, clearly excited for dinner. A small smile appeared on Romano’s face as he whispered a small ‘grazie’. So Italy wanted pasta with tomato sauce because it’s Romano’s favorite… Spain thought to himself, impressed by Italy’s compassion. “You’re a good brother, Italy!” Spain called out as he poured the pasta into a colander.
Spain began to serve the pasta into 3 bowls and brought them to the table. He then went to grab forks and serviettes, placing them beside the bowls. “Alright, mis hermanos, before we eat, we have to give our thanks,” Spain said as he folded his hands together. All three cousins began praying over their food, El Padrenuestro for Spain, and Padre Nostro for Italy and Romano. Despite the linguistic differences, the Lord’s prayer was relatively the same and an integral part of Catholicized Europe. As they finished up the prayer, Spain mentally gave thanks for his cousins joining his quiet life in this corner of the world.
Romano ate his pasta relatively fast, much to Spain’s surprise, as he seemed to be less energetic than Italy. “Eat up as much as you would like so you can grow up to be as strong as big brother Spain!” Spain laughed as he began flexing his muscles. Not a single noodle or spoonful of sauce was left behind, and all three cousins finished dinner with bellies full and eyes heavy. “Ay, bichitos, let’s get you two to bed!” Spain wiped off excess sauce from the boys’ faces with their serviettes and then ushered them to their room.
Once Italy and Romano settled into bed, Spain tucked them in and began an Oración de la Noche, praying for the protection of his little cousins as they slept and for sweet dreams. “En paz me acuesto y en seguida me duermo, porque solo tú, Señor, me haces vivir tranquilo…” Spain closed the bible softly as both Italy and Romano quietly snored. “...Amén.”