Christmas Crashed On My Head [Reader x Romano ]

Holy crap, my arms hurt. I've been decorating all day, and finally, I'm finished.

Taking a glance around my small apartment, I review my work. Lights are strewn across the small fireplace, a tree stands tall in the corner with many ornaments and lights adorning its gloriousness, neatly wrapped presents sit under the beautiful tree, and the windows have little snowflake pictures taped onto them. Finally, I am finished...with my living room.

Exhausted, I slump onto the couch, limbs aching from all the back-breaking work I've done so far. It's almost Christmas, and I was chosen at work to hold the annual Christmas party this year. Oh, jolly. I usually really like the Holiday season, but I'm not so sure this year. What's worse, is my colleagues are all going to be packed into my tiny-ass apartment like freaking sardines! Bah, humbug. Can't I just skip Christmas this year?

No, (name)! You can't give up now! You've already gotten so much done, and it looks terrific!

Sadly, I still need to cook cookies. Oh, God. Oh, God oh, God. Maybe if I kill myself...

I slap myself, dispelling such terrible thoughts. I can't start thinking like that! However, I will take a nap.

As I stand up to grab a pillow from the adjacent couch, my phone starts ringing. Who on Earth could that be? Picking up the phone, I look at the caller ID. Lovino? I answer it.

"Hello?"

"(N-Name)? Uh, hey, this is Lovino. I need directions to your apartment. All the fucktards at work decided it'd be fun not to tell me."

"But there are directions on the party invitations.." I'm not kidding. I had to look up where everyone lived and write specific directions to my apartment building. It's a company policy. (And a stupid one, at that.)

"My fucking dog ate the invitation. I'm not even kidding."

Youch.

"Alright, uhm..here, let me send you an e-mail with the directions, alright? You should have them within fifteen minutes." I bite my lip a bit.

"Alright. Hey, make sure you bake sour cream cookies! If not, I'm leaving before the party even has a chance to start."

I roll my eyes a little. Lovino has been bugging me to make him some sour cream cookies since we all learned I was holding the party. He even sent me the recipe. Apparently, his grandmother used to make them for him, and he can't go a single Christmas without some. I personally think it's really cute.

"Right, right. Will do, Lovi. Now how 'bout you let me go so I can, you know, make them?" I grin a bit, looking at my couch-bed wistfully.

"Alright. Ciao, ragazza." I hear a click from the other end.

I put down the phone, putting off my nap and logging onto my computer, typing away and then getting ready to bake cookies.

As I'm baking, I think about how long exactly I've known Lovino Vargas. He's worked at our company longer than I have, and he trained me when I was the newbie. Instantly, my curiosity locked on to that gravity-defying curl of his, and not knowing any better, I pulled it.

Let's just say I was never that curious again.

Anyways, other than that experience, Lovino's always been sweet to me (as sweet as the man can possibly be), but that could just be because I'm a woman. I've seen how he treats his brother sometimes, and it's not pretty, let me just say. But to tell the truth, I guess I've developed somewhat of a crush on the Italian. Call it cliche, or what you will, but hey, he's really handsome. However, right now, I think it'd be best I don't say anything and we just stay friends. It's quite obvious he doesn't feel the same.

The flour explodes in my face as my hands slip, and I sigh.

~~~

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Today's the day of the party, and I'm still not done making all the food. The pasta's in the oven, the pies are still chilling, and I haven't even put the last batch of cookies in yet! On top of that, my hair is still a mess, and my clothes are covered in flour.

Shit shit shit shit.

I hear the ding of the oven and take out the pasta. Whew. Now I can put in the cookies and go take a quick shower.

I take out the pasta and it smells great. Good, it even looks like the picture from the recipe. I put in the cookies, set the timer, and run to the bathroom.

**

Finally, everything is finished, and I look presentable. Looking at the clock, I see I only have about fifteen minutes until people start coming. However, I hear a knock at the door. Blinking, I go and answer it. It's Lovino.

"Well, you certainly are early." I smile a little, stepping out of the way to let him in.

"It took less time to get here than I thought. I didn't get lost like I normally would, either." He walks inside, taking off his jacket.

"That's because I'm amazing at giving directions." I raise an eyebrow and take his jacket, hanging it up. He walks into the living room.

"Damn, your apartment is tiny, ragazza." He has his signature frown on.

"Well, excuse me for not expanding my living space before having guests over." I purse my lips, a little annoyed. "Go ahead and sit down."

He obeys, sitting on my couch as I hear another knock on the door.

~
Soon, my apartment is full of colleagues from work, and everyone's either munching on a cookie, drinking a beer or soda, or chatting happily. Several times have I been nearly knocked over or had someone step on my foot. God, it pays to be tiny. Thankfully, nothing has been spilled yet, but a couple of the ornaments have fallen off the tree and shattered. (Cleaned by yours truly.)

Before I know it, most of the food is gone, half the people are drunk and patting my shoulder, and people are filing out the door, waving goodbye and wishing me a Merry Christmas. Soon, it's just me and Lovino, and I see him munching on a sour cream cookie. I walk over, smiling a bit.

"How's it taste?" I ask, wondering how terribly the moody Italian would critique my cooking.

"Not bad, but the pasta was terrible." He just continues to munch, not looking in my direction.

"What? That was my mother's recipe! I thought it was delicious." I frown, offended.

"It was terrible, nonetheless." he glances at me, finishing his cookie. As he does so, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wrapped box. He holds it out to me.

"Merry Christmas, ragazza."

I blink, looking at him, and then back at the box. I pick it up, slowly untying the bow, and unwrapping the paper. A small wooden box is revealed, and I open it.

Inside is a small ballerina, and a music box begins to play as she turns. The song is a piece from Swan Lake, one of my favorite ballets, and the ballerina is supposed to resemble Odette, I think. My mouth slightly gapes open in awe as I look back at him.

"It's...perfect. Thank you, Lovi." He scoffs a little bit as I call him Lovi, but he nods, slightly looking at me. Then he looks up.

"Don't tell me that's..." I look up as well.

Yeah, you guessed it. Mistletoe. Christmas's greatest cliche ending prop.

Lovino looks back at me as I lower my eyes back to him. And then he kisses me.

For a moment, I stand there, shocked. And then I give in and slowly kiss back.

A perfect close for a great Christmas.