"I'm fine, really Romano." Spain tried to assure the boy, as he covered his body in bandages. England had beaten him up yet again, and left cuts and bruises all over the lithe, tan body. He tried to give a reassuring smile, but that can only work so well with a busted lip, swollen and angry red.
"I many not be able to hurt that pirate prick, but I can still rough up that stupid little kid of his." Romano spat back, ignoring the protests of his "boss".
"Do you know how strong America is, Romano? It's inhuman!" Spain tried to keep him from picking a fight with the superhuman new world, but the fire in his green eyes said that resistance was futile.
"What, you don't think I'm strong, stupid bastard?" the tween nation dared his caretaker to say "no", the threat conveying solely through his deeper than usual scowl.
"Well, I uh…"
"Exactly, I'm going to kick his ass so hard, he'll never leave that pirate prick's side again." Romano spat, not even giving England the title of "bastard". Honestly, one had to be fairly special to him to get that added to their name, like Spain, or even Prussia, who was one of the few people that the Italian could get along with.
Romano stormed off, intent on finding the British colony and kicking him in his teeth.
"Britain, I can't believe that you let yourself get hurt again…" America said, patching his big brother up. He had a large slash across his chest from Spain's cutlass, as well as a black eye, conveniently covered by his eye patch.
"I got him back, America, don't worry. It's all going to be fine." England ruffled those corn silk locks, the innocence of the boy making him feel alive, no matter his injuries.
"Still…I don't like the idea of you getting hurt. I'll go and make sure he knows how I feel every time I see you hurt. I'm gonna pummel that useless Italian he's always toting around." The younger English speaker decided, his cobalt eyes setting in determination.
"I don't know, he's a pretty violent kid…" England said, though he wasn't really worried for his tyke. America had flung buffalos around for fun, after all, and he was in no danger from the Spaniard's spoiled brat.
"I can take him, England. Don't worry, I won't need so much as a pat on the head when I'm done with him." England sighed as he watched the boy run off, presumably to find the little Italian.
The two boys met on the streets between their homes, and glared at each other.
"I'm gonna rip you apart for what your brother did to Spain!" Romano shouted, drawing a dagger that he had stolen from Spain's armory for just this purpose.
"Keep talking, looser. You're the one who's gonna pay for what that idiot did to England!"
"Don't you dare call the great Espana a looser!" Romano ran at Alfred, tackling him to the ground, and landing a punch while the other was dazed. As soon as the stronger one gained his senses back, he threw the brunette off, and scowled.
"Or what? Are you going to bury me in pocket lint? It's about all you can afford, after he had to protect your useless ass." America spat back, shoving Romano into a wall, and chipping the cheap brick.
"At least Spain cares enough to protect me and not tax me for it!"
"Shut up! I'm happy to help Britain when he needs it. I'm not useless like you!" America attacked again, but this time, he was sidestepped, and Romano landed a kick to his back, causing him to once again fall.
"You can be strong all you want, but that's worthless if you can't hit me, stupid." Romano bashed his face into the concrete before lifting the small boy up and tossing him across the road.
"And what good is being fast if it feels like a mosquito bite when you hit me? By the way, that's a bug from the place your brother couldn't take over. North of the places he loves more than you."
"It doesn't matter how much Spain loves me! Only that I love him! I'm not a selfish jerk like you!" Romano went to punch him in the face, only to find a fist connecting with his stomach first. He nearly blacked out, and a small bit of blood came from his mouth as he fell to the floor.
"I love England more than anyone could love another. You don't even WANT to be a part of your brother."
"He's not my brother, or my boss, or my leader. He's my best friend, and that's something an underling like you could never get." Romano said, waiting for the blow that would mash his brains across the concrete.
"Romano!" He heard the Spanish accent, and looked up to see Spain holding the American boy with his good arm, the other in a sling.
"Put America down, you git!" England called, limping to the scene.
"Don't talk to him like that!" Romano shouted, glaring at the pirate.
"And don't you yell at England."
"Why? It's not like he came to rescue you when I was pounding your face in. That proves that Spain loves me more than the pirate prick loves you."
"No! You love me, right, England?" America begged, his blue eyes pleading as he stopped squirming.
"Of course, but why are you fighting about it…?" England said, looking from one boy to another.
"Would he ever let you do this?" Romano grabbed Spain by the collar, and dragged his shocked face down, putting a clumsy, rushed kiss to his lips, trying not to hurt the bruised portion. America's eyes went wide, and he jumped down as Spain let him go in surprise.
"W…would you…England…?" America looked at his caretaker, eyes watering.
"You're just a child, America. Maybe when you're older." England said, staring at the floor with a blush.
"Romano…he's right." Spain pulled the little boy away, though it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Those little lips were so soft, and his face was so pitiful.
"So then…you don't love me?" America asked, his voice no longer holding anger, or pleading, or sadness, only a blank emptiness that was worse than them all.
"I do, but I have common decency, America."
"I guess neither of them loved us, America. After we cleaned their wounds, and fought for them. We're still just annoying kids." Romano said, his voice holding the same numbed pain.
"Lovi, it's not-"
"Shut Up! Don't talk to me, you prick!" Romano yelled, running off. With a final, agonized glance, America followed him, though they split to different parts of the city along the way.
Both of them found an old building, and set to sobbing inside it.
Romano couldn't help thinking how lucky the other was that he had a home far away from his prick, where he could start anew without ever having to see the Brit again. He, on the other hand, had lived with Spain right there so long, he had become dependant on him for the simplest of things.
America thought that the other had the best end of the bargain. After all, he had a home to go to that didn't hold all of those memories. Instead, America would have to go back to the same home and sleep in the same bed that he had shared with England on nights when he could. He had to sit there and wait for the other to work up an apology that had nothing to do with actually accepting him.
"Romano, there you are." Spain said, finally finding the boy with his small frame huddled in the building, shivering in exhaustion and the chill of the night air around them. Light from the full moon shone through a broken window, the sharp, jagged glass giving the small room a darker appearance than it already had.
"Go away." He said, his voice cracking and weak.
"I'm so sorry, Romano." He said, getting closer to the boy, hoping that it would excite anger if nothing else. At lest then he wouldn't have to listen to that empty, hopeless voice.
"YOU SAY THAT YOU'RE SORRY AFTER YOU CRUSH MY HEART?" Romano shouted, turning around and smacking the other, who simply looked at him, pain in his eyes. "You're just like the rumors say. You're a piece of shit that cares nothing for the feelings of others. You just didn't want to be the guy who didn't have an underling in a colonial world."
"Please stop crying, Lovi." Spain said, wrapping his arms around the sobbing boy.
"I'm not crying…"
"Then smile. I-I love you as well, but a relationship between me and a kid is-"
"I'm six hundred years old, Antonio! And people get married with their bodies as youthful as mine in your country to older men all the time." Romano argued.
"I never thought of it that way, Lovi. I just wanted to maintain your innocence until you were grown enough to make real choices."
"I'm plenty grown. And I choose you…" Romano slumped into his embrace, no longer sobbing. Spain smiled, and lifted the boy's chin up, placing a kiss to those lips.
"Antonio…" the Italian breathed, even the small, feather light touch of the other's tongue as it snaked out making him arch his back a little.
"Yes…" The Spaniard placed a large, calloused hand up the other's shirt, causing the boy to moan wantonly.
"Say it…" He didn't have to specify what he wanted said.
"I love you so much, Lovino. I love you more than anything else in this world or the next."
"Get out of my sight, you ass." America said, glaring at the Brit with red, puffy eyes. His head hurt, and even the light of the moon seemed to be blaring to his sensitive eyesight.
"I know that you're angry with me, but I can hardly defile a child. Maybe a few years ago, but I'm trying to change. To set a good example for you."
"I don't need a good example. I know what you want me to be. And any time I try I always mess up. I'd rather have the pirate. At least he isn't so judging and uptight. And I'm hardly a child. You make me fight in wars and pay taxes, so how can you treat me like a little kid now?"
"I suppose not. But you could hardly forgive me." England lowered his head, spiky gold going over his green eyes, gleaming with anguish.
"I was never mad at you." America said, standing up and looking the other in the eye. "I was mad at me, for not being at least as good as the tavern wenches you seemed to like so much."
"Never compare yourself to them, Alfred Jones." England snapped. "I use them as I use a horse. I do not wish to hurt it, but it is hardly human. But I want to please you, while still maintaining what is best for you. I love you, Alfred, but how can I act upon that without be-spoiling you?" he asked, bringing the boy into a tight hug.
"How is love capable of spoiling? Would you think my heart more pure if it was instead filled with hate?" America nearly whispered, blue eyes looking desperately into green, as if they were his only answer. England smiled. America had been studying those poetry books he gave him.
"Never say I gave you no choice…" Arthur said, placing a small, chaste kiss to the other's lips. America responded like with the greed all children possess, and wormed his small tongue into the other's mouth.
"I love you, Arthur." He whispered, taking a breath before returning to his new, invigorating pastime. Arthur would have answered with the same, but his mouth was occupied, and would be for some time…
FIN