(EDITED! I fixed any remaining typos.. But then again. I still have glasses. I might have missed some dastardly ones. _)

Hiiii guysss.
I know, it's been a while. I'm sorryyy. D: I have so many stories started, I just never finish them. That's my problem D:
I'm actually on holidays in the Sunny South-East (Wexford ^.^), &&I brought my laptop with me this time (yolo br0).
This time, I'm back with a oneshot from a different fandom.
Axis Powers: Hetalia!~~
I've wanted to write a fic for APH for awhile now. It ended up being Spamano. I don't even- they're sososocutee. ;_;
Yeah, the title's a bit.. Random/off putting. :/ It was off the top of my head. Like the plot. dhsfljkvhdx;
Anyways, on with le story.

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia.. Well. Let's not get into that. Amazing Himaruya&Studio Deen own them, ok.~~

Two more things:
-BEWARE OF MY TYPOS. D: I read this oneshot twice and fixed most mistakes, but I may have missed a few. Wordpad doesn't underline. :I
-I didn't use any translator for any foreign words in this fic. I don't know why, I have the Internet.. ." Idek. But I'm sorry if you're Spanish/Italian and there's any typos in the words D:

I HOPE YOU ENJOYYY~

Paintings and Punches

After eyeing some particularly beautiful paintings made by Veneziano, Romano decided that there was absolutely no way that his fratello could be better at him.
Romano was in his bedroom (in Spain's house. Romano claims that he doesn't live with Antonio anymore, but this is Romano we're talking about), trying to paint. Emphasize trying. He stood in front of a canvas, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a single sweat drop was threatening to fall from the side of his forehead, but it did not do so before he wiped it away.

To be honest, Romano didn't know the exact reason as to why he suddenly whipped out a canvas and palette. He considered one of them to be the fact that he hadn't tried to paint in hundreds of years.. Ever since he was small, and found out that Feliciano was so much better than him. Maybe now he could perfect his art skills and show his fratello he was just as good.. As well as the rest of the world, that is.

The back of the canvas faced the door of his room. He didn't want Tomato Bastard making fun of what he was trying to call 'art', and Romano knew better than to merely assume that the nation wouldn't barge in unexpectedly, wearing that stupid grin on his face like always.
Lovino Vargas was trying his best to paint what looked to him like a forest. In the middle of the bright scenery was a woman, her arms half-way between spread-eagle and by her side. The back of the woman's frame was toward the beholder.. Romano learned the hard way that he was not good at faces.

The woman in the painting had long, flowing brunette hair, and it was swaying a little in the wind on the canvas. Around her were trees, grass and various forest animals along with the rays of sunlight shining from the right of the picture.
At the present moment, Romano's tongue was sticking out a little, all of his attention on the woman's hair. He was extending it to make it reach her waist. Her locks were curly, but they weren't ringlets, and the southern half of Italy was using the paintbrush strokes in such a way that it curled to the left. If he got one stroke wron-

CRASH!

"FUCKING HELL!" Romano didn't yell because of the crash coming from downstairs. He screamed his lungs out because the crash made him jump, ultimately making a brown stroke upwards.
South Italy must have swore for about ten minutes straight. It took all of his strength not to go downstairs and beat that clumsy bastard to a pulp for that.. His painting was ruined now!
Hold the fuck up..

Why did he choose to paint at Spain's?Of all fucking places?!

Romano turned and looked back at his painting. Previously, he had been pacing around his room, picking things up and breaking them in anger. His mind refreshed the memory of the painting when he looked at it, and realised it wasn't that good anyway.
The woman's fingers were off-angle and too thick, her dress' shading was wrong.. Even the squirrel in the tree he had spent an hour on looked like a brown blob. Romano didn't sigh. He fucking growled.

How was it possible that his brother - who he reminded himself is the SAME COUNTRY - is so much better than him? Why does he, Romano, have to be bad at everything? His brother always got all the attention. It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly.
Picking up an empty glass (which he brought up full of water to drink earlier), Romano twisted it in his hand before lifting it up to throw it, knowing he'll feel better once he hears it smash.

"Loviiii~~ Are you in here, my little tomato?" He heard that irritating voice on the other side of his door. Shit.

He put the glass back quickly and ran to lock his door. He pressed himself against it and fiddled with the lock, but Spain was too quick.
The door opened a crack, and the bad-at-painting half of Italy threw himself at it in desperation, trying to close the door and lock it before Antonio could get in.
"GO AWAY, BASTARD!" he yelled, pushing the door with all of his might.

"Lovi, I just want to know why you've been up here all dayy~~" After a few seconds of Romano pushing with all of his might, Spain decided to use his full strength. Ultimately, he managed to get in with less effort than he previously thought. "I asked you to come tomato picking with me but you- Lovi! Were you painting?!" Spain simply lit up with excitement when he saw the canvas.

Oh fuck to the no.

"FUCK OFF, YOU TOMATO LOVING STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!" Romano stood in front of it protectively, his face heating up, determined not to let Antonio see his atrocity. He would never let him live it down.. He'd have to put up with being called adorable twice over for the next month.. People would laugh at him because Spain would tell them the story of how cute his bad painting was. Nope. That wasn't going to happen.

Spain raised an eyebrow. He wasn't leaving until he saw what his Lovi was painting. "Just let me glance, Lovi-!"

"NO, PISS OFF BEFORE YOU GET A FACE FULL OF FIST!" Lovino threatened desperately, walking towards Antonio to push him back out.

Spain only smiled, and went to push Romano out of the way. South Italy shoved him backwards, and hard at that. Spain ran towards his Lovi and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to get him to move to the side and make way. Lovino scowled and tried to kick Spain, but the nation was evasive. Antonio went to trip Romano up by bringing his foot back under his feet, but before he could do so, his nose suddenly cracked.

"NOT A CHANCE, BASTARD!" Screamed Romano, lowering his fist and glaring at Spain, who stumbled and fell backwards onto the floor.
The ahoge-free nation felt something warm on his face, and sat up to see blood dripping into his clothes. Broken nose. He reached up to touch it, to find it was crooked in the middle.

"Lovi, I just want to see what you're painting!" Spain struggled to smile like he usually did. The pain was kicking in big time and his nose really hurt.
"NO, WHY DON'T YOU JUST FUCK OFF AND BATHE IN TOMATOES!" Romano's face turned red in anger, he was still angry over his ruined painting. Though to most other people, they'd consider it ruined even before the unnecessary brown stroke.

Spain stood up, a hand over his nose in a meek attempt to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. It dripped onto the wooden floor, red circles becoming more each second.

"Lovi, can I please see what's on the canvas? I'll-"

"NO, FUCK OFF!" Romano yelled. "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET OUT!"

Even with a broken nose, Spain didn't retreat. On the contrary, he advanced, trying to get past an angry Romano, despite the fact that one hand was occupied by his nose.
Romano was having none of it. He shoved the other nation back again in such anger that Spain stumbled. Didn't this bastard get the message?! He just told him to fuck off!
Instead of a blow to the face, this time it was to the stomach. A swift punch and Spain doubled over, falling to his knees and whining a little, trying his best to bite back moans that were trying to escape.

"L-Lovi-"

"GO THE FUCK AWAY!"

Romano kicked Spain in the side while the nation was on the floor still cluthing his front, grabbed him by the back of his shirt (a Spanish football shirt, actually), and tried to drag him back out so he could lock the door. He cursed his own common sense for not remembering to barricade himself in so he wouldn't have to deal with this.

"GET OUT OF MY DAMN ROOM! YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW I DON'T FUCKING WANT YOU AROUND ME! I FUCKING HATE YOU!" Romano roared, trying to pull Spain out, since the nation still was in too much pain to stand. Spain was only inching along, though. Romano gave up and tried to yank Spain's hair to try and get him to move.
It seemed to work. Spain squeaked in pain, reached up both his hands quickly (letting quite a lot of blood drip to the floor), prying Romano's hand to let go of his dark brown locks.

"Si.. Okay, I understand now."

His voice was monotonous. Romano's lungs caught in his throat for a brief second. Normally, Spain would sound happy, even after Romano had hit him, which he had done. A lot. This new tone of voice that he was hearing was scarier than.. Than Russia, even.
Romano was still for so long that by the time he had snapped back to reality, he hadn't noticed Spain standing up to face him.

"Lovi, do you really hate me like you say you do?" Even though Spain was taller, Romano had to look down at him, because the other nation was doubled over and still clutching his stomach.

His voice sounded genuinely hurt and sad this time. Whenever Romano told Spain that he hated the other nation, Antonio faked being upset, before calling Romano cute. This was different, and not in a good way. Romano didn't know what to say. Yes, he hated Spain. He REALLY fucking hated Spain.. Yet, the guilt was beginning to hit him. Spain's nose was beginning to bruise and swell, and blood was still dripping from his nostrils like a tap. And lately, Romano blushed more than socially acceptable whenever Spain tried to come near him in any way. Over the past few weeks, Romano decided to become more distant from the guy (thus the nation refraining to painting in his room), trying to avoid that horrible feeling in his stomach when he saw Spain. Instead of analysing these feelings, South Italy simply brushed it under the carpet, much like what he does to breakable things when he tries to clean.

"Yes, Spain, I really do fucking hate you. I tell you so many times. Do you really have to fucking ask that?" Romano spat horribly, folding his arms and glaring at Spain. He only said that because of that horrid fluttery feeling he gets around the Spanish man.. And he hates him for it.
Spain's sad and yet hopeful (and painful looking) expression dropped. His shoulders sagged, and he blinked multiple times.

"Oh, I really thought you were joking when you said that. I understand now Lo- Romano. Sorry, I know you don't really like being called 'Lovi'."

Romano's tightly folded arms loosened, and so did his pissed off face. He was sure that Spain was going to cheer up any second now.. He'd ruffle his hair and call him a tomato, like he always did.. Any second..

"I'll stop bothering you about your painting. And everything else. All those years I thought you were adorable when you were angry.. You still are, but I'll stop that, too, 'cause you hate it. I just assumed you were too modest to accept affection, but after this, I know you really hate me trying to be nice and hug you and stuff. I'm sorry, Romano."

He looked like he was close to tears, Romano thought sadly. And did Spain just say that he hated him trying to be nice? Well, he always thought he was a little too happy.. But now that Romano thought about it, Spain could have been much crueller to him.. Was he just trying to be nice? Was he as horrible as Spain implied him to be? Did he come across that mean and violent to everyone else?

Thoughts swam through his mind after Spain's apology, and it only occurred to him that Spain was gone when he heard the click of his bedroom door.

He wondered what he should do. Should he go after Spain? Or stay here and start a new painting? It was only mid-afternoon..
He decided to stay and make a second attempt at art. Maybe this time it wouldn't be as horrible.
Romano still couldn't shake that feeling of.. He didn't even know. He sort of hated himself after realising what he did to Spain, and what he said. Nevertheless, he walked back to his canvas.

...The painting wasn't as bad as he made it out to be before.. Maybe if he just tweaked a few things it would look less than terrible.
Romano stroked shades of blue over the brown mistake, and realised that the woman's hair looked awfully like Spain's, just longer. It was the same shade, same sort of waviness (if that was possible?), and even the woman's dress was red and yellow, like Antonio's beloved flag. Romano blushed, and his heart sank.

He put down the art utensil and looked back to his bedroom door, hoping Spain would barge in this time. He wanted it all to just be a dream.. But his eyes turned to the floor. Red blood everywhere, even a small puddle where Spain had been sta- hunched. When a fleeting thought passed his mind, Romano wanted to beat himself up.

That blood was there because of him.

He knew he himself was a bit of a bastard sometimes, but this time he crossed the line, and Romano knew it.
A flash of a head with a large curl, and he was gone.

Down the stairs he half-sprinted, glancing into the living room. No Spain.
He found the other nation in the kitchen, by the sink with some paper towels. Most likely for his nose.

"Spain?" he asked tentatively, walking towards the nation. When he remembered that Spain was kind enough to even take him in all those years ago, he felt even worse.
"Oh, hi Romano.." His voice was still quiet, sad, and even a little shy. The green eyed country turned from the sink to Romano, holding some tissue to his nose. It was stained with red already. "I'll be cooking dinner soon, I'm making some pasta especially for you, to say sorr-"
"Why the fuck are you saying sorry?!" Romano blurted. It sounded angrier than he had intended. He realised his mistake when Spain looked even sorrier than before.
"I'm s-"
"WAIT. No.. Don't talk, I wanna talk. I'm not good with these sorts of things, okay? Give me a minute.."

Spain nodded patiently.

"I.. You shouldn't be the one that's sorry. Don't be fucking sorry. Nothing's your fault. Nothing ever was your fault. It's mine, and I know it is, so don't even say anything. I just.. The painting.. I don't, well.. I do, but I just.. Argh!" Romano growled in frustration and turned away for a moment.
"Okay, let me explain everything from the start.. Fucking hell.." he muttered, beginning to blush again. He'd have to explain the fluttery feeling to explain the distance to explain the painting to explain the anger to explain his.. Jesus, why did he put off explaining until now?

"Okay, Spain, are you listening? Because I'm not explaining this shit again."
"Si."
"Good. Okay.." Romano took a deep breath, and looked at the floor.
"You know Feli was always better at art than I was. I know you do, because you always liked him more than me. NO, DON'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING. Don't deny shit, because you'll be lying. Okay?" he warned.

Spain sighed.

"The Renaissance shined on him more than me. I'm fucking shit at painting. I don't even know why I decided to paint today.. I just somehow thought I could be just as good as Feli. The reason why I said no to tomato picking.. First, tomatoes are YOUR obsession, not mine. Second, I kind of.. Well, I didn't want to be away from you, I just didn't want to be aroundyou.." Romano rubbed the back of his neck. That sounded way worse out loud.

"Why? What did I-"

"Shut up!" he snapped. "You did fuck all. It's me. Whenever I'm near you.. These past few days.. Weeks, I think.. I get a fucking weird sensation in my stomach. It feels fucking horrible, I hate it. The only way to avoid it is to lock myself in my room or leave the house or.. Not be around you. That's why I was in my room. That's why I was in my room all week."

South Italy's cheeks heated up so much that his neck even went a deep pink. The floor seemed very intriguing to him.. So interesting, that he was silently begging it to swallow him up and send him six feet under.

There was a long silence.. Or at least it felt like a long silence. Romano at least expected a noise, or a snigger, but nothing. Spain took so long to fucking reply that Romano got tired of waiting.

"And, that's also the reason why I don't want you hugging me or touching me in any way. That fluttery feeling gets even worse when you touch me. Okay, when I was younger I just didn't like people invading my personal bubble, but nowadays.. Ugh. I still don't like it, but that stupid ass fucking feeling just adds to it. Okay?" Romano finished talking, but still did not dare to look at Spain.

Spain was silent. At the beginning, he wanted to get a few words in sideways, but now he had nothing to say. What Romano described was exactly what he felt.. But he just took it with a different approach. Instead of avoiding his Lovi, he just tried to show his love by attempting to show kindness and affection every so often (he always did that to Romano anyway, so nobody ever noticed). He was always rejected, and he always knew he would be pushed away beforehand, but he always thought that one day Romano would just give up on punching and kicking.. And just.. Hug him back.
Not that Spain had thought of him like this as a child, Lord no. That would be France's thing.

Spain was not a paedophile, he loved Roma as a brother back then. But when Lovi grew up to become.. This.. He realised how gorgeous the nation was.. Of course, he had shrugged his feelings off, predicting that Lovi would always be bad-mouthed and bad-mannered towards him (which he was, truth be told), but this changed everything.. Everything.

"Well? Are you going to fucking say something or not?!" Romano snapped. Being nice just didn't agree with him.
"Uh.." Spain shook his head a little, before replacing the tissue over his nose. "Romano..? Do you know what you just described?" He asked nervously.
"I told you about my stomach problem, I know what I said, idiota!" He flushed a darker red, steam practically coming out of his ears.
"It's not a problem, mi amigos. It's a feeling. It sounds like... Love." He said quietly, expecting the exact reaction he got.

"WHAT!?" Romano erupted. He had never even contemplated love. All he had thought of that.. Condition, was that it was a sickness. "NO IT'S NOT, FUCKING BASTARDO! FUCKING PREVERTED SPANISH FREAK! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN THINK SUCH A THING?!"

Spain smiled a little, his nose starting to throb.

"Because I get that feeling too, Romano."

Romano's red face drained of colour. "..Eh?"

"You described how I feel when you're around me. A butterfly feeling? Ever hear of that?" He asked lightly. Romano gulped.

"Y-you... You sick fuck, that's disgusting, I-"

Spain cupped Romano's face with his free hand, coming close to the other nation. "Are you getting it now?"

Romano turned purple with embarrassment. "I-.. Get off of me, you fucking b-bastard!" South Italy cursed himself for stuttering.

"But are you?" For the nth time, Spain ignored Romano's protests.

"Fucking- Spain, I fucking hate you.. But si.." Something bubbled inside him.. Romano hoped it was anger, like it always was. But today was far from a normal day, he reminded himself.
"Me too. Doesn't that tell you something?" asked Spain, looking straight into Romano's eyes, which the latter avoided.

Romano's brain went blank. What were they doing? This was so wrong, he couldn't even.. His instincts told him to move away from Spain. He did so, but after a few steps, he hit the kitchen counter. Spain literally had him cornered.

Antonio moved forward with him and slid his knee between Romano's legs when he had nowhere else to go.
"Fucking p-pervert.. You hang out with France too much, bastardo.." He muttered, and stopped breathing for a second when Spain leaned in closer than before. Fuck, what was wrong with his body? It seemed to enjoy the Tomato Bastard's intimacy.. Shit.

"Romano.. Come on, I know you feel the same way by what you described. Please? I know this is forward, I'm sorry, but I really can't let this slide.. I never knew you'd feel the way I do.. Cheesy, but it's not a lie.." Spain muttered.

He flushed pink when he realised that he was acting like France. He had his Lovi in a corner, pushing against him.. And his tissue-covered nose didn't make it better. Okay, so this was the first time he was this close to Roma without being punched, but he was pushing his luck as well as his so-called brotherly love. This wasn't what brothers did. And he knew he'd end up getting pushed away by Romano anyway, despite how he confessed his cute 'stomach problem'. Spain also knew that he would hear constant denials of this confession for the next few days, as well. He should stop this inappropriateness before it gets out of hand.

"Never mind what I just said. I'm sorry, this is horrible. I am acting like France, I don't know what came over me..." Spain backed away from Romano, feeling like a true pervert for coming onto him like that. "I'm sorry, Romano-"

Romano pulled Spain back by his shirt.

He pulled Spain's right arm down from his nose, causing him to drop the tissue.

"Shut the fuck up and call me Lovi."

And with that, Romano smashed his lips against Spain's, kissing him hard.
At first, both nations were unmoving. Romano didn't quite know why he did that, but deep down, he was glad he did. He began to move his lips against Spain's, wrapping an arm around the man's waist as the other slithered up to his neck. Tangling his fingers with the dark brown locks, Romano turned around and pushed Spain against the counter, in an attempt to become dominant.

Spain was so shocked that he forgot to breathe. When he felt Romano's hands sneaking their way around his body, he closed his eyes unconsciously. It was like floating on a cloud.. Roma's lips were so soft.. Almost like silk..
His emerald eyes snapped back open again when he felt his Lovi's body against his. When was he pushed against the counter? And why was Romano trying to be dominant? He would have to fix that..

Finally regaining use over his own body, Spain switched their positions once again and shoved Romano between him and the tabletop. He licked Romano's lips, wordlessly asking for entry, and South Italy seemed to give it without hesitation.
Both wanting to be dominant, their toungues danced together, exploring every inch of the other's mouths. Romano seemed to get more daring, because that was when he slipped his hand down from Spain's waist to his firm ass, gripping it tight.

Spain gasped, and then smirked into the kiss. He still had one weapon to use that Roma couldn't on him.
Hoping that he wouldn't get kicked and punched, Spain lifted a hand and tugged on the infamous Vargas curl.

Romano moaned loudly. He couldn't help it.

Spain loved the noise that came from his Roma. So much that he tugged on the curl again, harder this time around. He moaned even louder, and tried his best to get Spain to stop. "S-Spain.. B-bastard.. St- ngh.." Romano felt weak already, groaning into the kiss and gripping the countertop tightly.
Romano almost lost the use of his legs. They turned to jelly under Spain's touch, and they wobbled dangerously when Spain wrapped the long curl around his index finger and pulled on it again.

Eventually, the two had to pull away for precious air.

Red-faced, messy hair and swollen lips, the two took in deep breaths, their bodies still pressed against eachother.
"F-fuck, you bastard.. Pulling my f-fucking curl.." he panted, trying to sound mean, but any menace in his voice was lost during the kiss.
"Lovi was trying to be dominant." was all he said, smiling triumphantly.
"Shut up, it's only proper that I'm the dominant one.. You're the submissive." Romano's face was still pink from the e-zone touching. He crossed one leg over the other, trying his best to hide the growing tent between his legs.
"How could you dominate with this curl on your head?" Spain asked happily, reaching over to tug it again. Romano reached out to stop him, but like with the door, Spain was too quick.

Four times in the past minute was too much for Romano. He moaned loudly as his knees gave way and he sank to the floor. "Stop, y-you bastard.." he said between moans, the bulge in his trousers fully noticeable now.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you?" Spain purred, pointing at Romano's crotch. Lovino's face, flushed once again after Spain playing with his precious curl, nodded vigorously.

Just as Spain bent down and got on top of Romano, the doorbell rang. Romano whined, but in an annoyed sort of way. Spain just laughed, and stood back up, pulling Romano with him.

Spain went to answer the door, and by the accent and tone, Romano found it to be Potato Bastard's fratello, Prussia.
"-Yeah, I got a broken nose before too, Spain. Fucking hurts, right? Seems to have stopped bleeding though, so you're good."
Prussia came into the kitchen, Spain alongside him.

"Oh, gueten tag, Other Italy."
Romano frowned, then smirked. "Ciao, Not-A-Nation."
He looked away, but looked back to Gilbert to see him staring. "What are you fucking looking at?" he asked angrily.

Prussia didn't reply, but simply looked back to Spain. Then his red eyes darted back to Romano. Then to Spain, and back to him again.

He burst out laughing, so much so that it was a silent laugh.

Romano just got even more irritated. "WHAT THE FUCK IS IT?!" He yelled in frustration.

Prussia was literally at a loss for words, and simply gestured to his top lip between breaths of laughter.

Romano's eyes widened.

He reached and touched his top lip.

Blood.

He didn't injure himself, so that must...

He looked at Spain.

He just smiled and said, "What? You looked so adorable, my little tomato!"

"YOU BASTARD!"

The plot is a bit.. Weird. Romano painting, Spain not smiling.. yeah, I know.

Was that okay, though? :I
The makeout scene. I don't even/

I TRIED TO KEEP IT FLUFFY, I REALLY DID]

First Hetalia oneshot. asjakhjas.

I realise they may have been OOC with some of the words I used... /;
Oh, and if anyone's wondering-

-Spain was just a dumbass and tripped over the leg of a table on the way in from tomato picking. ^.^

If I get some good reviews, I might write a second chapter or epilogue or something!
And if there's any language typos, feel free to point them out -3-" I fail. I only know some French words. Gah.

Constructive Criticism = Plz?~ O.O3

Any sort of review = More fics from me. Deal? :D?

~Hollie~