Italics based around a RP between myself and a friend on DeviantArt, set around the Anglo-Spanish War [1625 -1630]

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction.

The world meeting was delayed, not that anyone had expected anything else.

Those that hadn't abandoned the idea of a meeting all together, crowded into the hotel sitting room. England took up one of the arm chairs, sat on it like it was a throne, and picked up one of the newspapers on the table. He let his eyes scan over the twisty letters… he should have known better than to think it would be in English. Maybe that was a part of his arrogance.

All he wanted was a distraction, really, but he gave a sigh instead as a sign of silent defeat, placing the paper back down with an anguished look. "It's fine…" He reassured himself as he caught side glances, rubbing his temples with semi-closed eyes.

It had been a tough week, a tough month in fact. July. The worst month for reminiscing.

There were things, as he had reflected beforehand, that you could never really leave behind no matter how many therapy sessions you went through or how many lives you took – or in England's case, how many times you took it out on a certain neighbouring Frenchman.

There was always going to be that one thing in the way and for him, his eyes trailed up to the Spaniard sat in the opposite chair and the hot-headed Italian sat awkwardly on his lap, it would always be that idiotic Spain.

The meeting, like everyone had expected, had been tension filled, only just bearable. It's ending had barely been uttered before he'd collected his things and made his way out, keeping his eyes to the floor.

"Where are you going in such a rush Britain?" A French tongue shouted at him. For the first time he could remember, he didn't turn around to confront him.

Laying back in the hotel room, another irritated sigh pushed its way from his lips as he shielded himself from the light that emitted from the lamp by his side by placing his reading material over his eyes. Thoughts plagued his head, dampening the happy memories that he's brought forward to make a restful sleep in the least bit possible.

His countryside home. Holding Elizabeth as a baby. That picture America drew for him once. Canada putting his hair in bunches. Holidays with Seychelles. Silver cutlery. Silver… Emerald eyes- FUCK!

"Stop thinking about Spain!" He muttered to himself.

He closed his eyes tight, and he's barely noticed he'd fallen asleep when he found himself stood in a familiar room. The scene was frayed around the edges but it was easily something he could overlook.

"I am a conqueror of the New World ... I will not stay silent for long you English pig!"

England spun around just in time to see Spain's body stiffen as knife danced out of the pirates coat and panic struck his chest. He recognised to scene all too well, the furnishings on the walls and even the dark glare in the other eyes, all things seemed so trivial now he looked on in fear of the Spanish life.

He laughed, the knife carried on dancing down the others jaw light and mocking. The control made him giddy; there was no other way to put it. "…and what more to show for it but a scarred back?"

"How do you know what my back looks like, Inglaterra? Been lurking have we?" Spain had turned his nose up at the laugh and glared off at something completely irrelevant. Mumbling under his breath in Spanish, he took a quick glance back. "It is all you're good at after all; pirate, delinquent."

"I was the one who put them there. Surely you'd remember..." The knife twisted against his neck and he shivered violently against the metal, trying to uphold his cocky smile. "...our little talks after your first truly pitiful attempt to invade?"

"I-It was centuries ago!"

Stood back watching made him want to break, he could feel disgust rising in his gullet as ihis/i nails ran down Spain's back and his winced away, recalling the feeling of his fingers over the shallow indents he knew only a nation after so long could find painful.

Looking away he say another figure shift in the corner of another room, it changed around him as if it were a scene on the stage but his efforts to shield himself from the pain that he had caused Spain was, as it seemed, in vain. He faced the same as before.

Spain panted heavily, wriggling to try and escape the knife that pressed against his chest. It cut through the fabric so easily and made England giggle like a little girl as he watched the blood-spot spread through his shirt. "P-Por favor… you might hit something!"

"Like I would be that careless!" He hissed in excitement, running the blooded blade over Spain's cheek with his eyes glinting darkly. "Wouldn't want to get your dirty whore blood all over my nice new ship now, would I?"

"W-Whore…" It was barely a mumble back but one which was replies with an outrageous laugh. England cupped the Spanish cheek in his pale and stained hand, gripping his jaw.

"Yes. Whore."

His eyes flittered open and his teeth ground together against the pillow with an angry growl. Shaking his head to try and clear it. Sometimes he hated his mind more than anything. Yes, sometimes it could be his greatest asset but on morning were he would lie up with images of a sunny nation on his mind, he truly loathed it.

The sun doused his hotel room; it gave the air an eerie yet mystic glow. A car alarm was going off in the distance… a load American voice called him from the corridor outside. The meeting was only over an hour away and it made him cringe. All he wanted to do was sleep and dream…

"How cliché." England mumbled, forcing his head into the pillow, ignoring the load knocking at his door.

There was always something in their kind of romance that nobody would understand, yet he guessed it was the same thing that made Spain hate him today. Meetings had gone by with much more irritation and inner torment. He closed his eyes against his pillow and took in a deep breath. A decent night sleep wasn't too much to ask for, surely! Since the beginning of the month he hadn't had a good one…

He began to doze, breath becoming heavier as he drifted into his distant memories.

Spain leant with his back to his chest and a laugh shook through them, England's arm slung over his shoulder like they were friends but his shoulder supported the others head like they were lovers. They spoke, laughed together, happiness radiated off of them both bright enough to light the cabin. The bruises covering the Spaniard began to fade and England took one of Spain's hands in his own.

"Why did Inglaterra do all those things to España when he was first caught?" The soft Spanish voice rang out.

His Captain smiled devilishly, kissing the top of his head making his actions disjointed from the original intent that was clear in his smile. "I don't really know. Anger. Revenge." Slowly it slipped, replaced by a flutter of guilt. "You made me fall in love when you tortured me. I just, I wanted you so badly, to want, to need me and... l-love me. I didn't think I could have that... not with you."

He watched the scenen front of him much like the other night, only now he wasn't trying to shield himself from it; he watched with a smile on his face and a new-found inspiration in him. He could have confessed then over and over again while the wounds on Spain had not even begun to close, the idea that he couldn't now after centuries, for whatever reason was truly ridiculous.

His hand was squeezed lightly by Spain and a smile brightened, his cheeks flushed. "Inglaterra doesn't have to worry about that anymore…" The Spaniard took England's other hand, kissing his knuckles innocently as he gazed into his half-lidded eyes. "España will always need you and love you..."

"I'm the only one who can render you powerless enough to confess love?" His fingers grazed his cheek. "I can see it in your eyes. You used to scream for me to get off but… I could see you never wanted me to stop. It made me guilty; I wanted you to tell me, so I truly knew. I was wrong."

Another laugh, Spain nuzzled himself into England's hand. "Yes but in a way you were right… I loved how you acted like a lover when you hurt me, how you looked like an Angel when you were done."

England gave a smile to reflect the pirate version of him as Spain replied. He could feel an all too familiar feeling rising in his chest, one that had been dormant since the days he had joined Spain on his cabin floor.

"There's a reason for that Spain."

There as a load bang, load enough to jolt him but not to snap him out of the dream as he jumped around. The other two were gone and Spain stormed into the cabin, himself slowly following behind.

"You are going home Conquistador! I've already set a course!"

The Spaniard laughed, leaning against the desk. "No amor, you are mistaken." Slowly he took the hat off of England's head and placed it on his own. "I'm staying with you… forever. We can sail the seas and oceans and discover new lands!" His smile shone bright, even for him. "Then… nobody can tell us what to do, who to like and who to love."

"I love your optimism… been reading many of those stupid French fairy-tales, have you?" He looked like he was battling against his better judgement, a soft sigh on his lips as he looked away and closed his eyes. He didn't even believe his own words.

Spain's eyes glistened with fresh tears, the smile still beaming. "Please amor." He held out his hand. "Take a chance…"

The pirate got down on his knees and wrapped his arms round the back of Spain's legs, nodding softly. "Forever Captain…"

Once he awoke, he laid back, staring up at the canopy of sheets above him and lets a sigh sound out quietly in the room. He attempted to ignore the noise from the American outside of the room but without successes he stood up and faced his reflection in the mirror.

"You have to tell him today… You hear me?" His hands slammed down onto the mahogany top, glaring at his reflection sternly. "Today!"

From where he stood it was all so ridiculous, feeling like he'd been thrown into some angsty teenage romance. He couldn't tell if it was their position or the mural hatred had spun into something much more dangerous. At that thought, his grip tightened around Spain's wrists.

He couldn't pretend to be confused because everything had been so clear, he couldn't pretend it had been an accident; he just never claimed to be proud either way. Watching the Spaniard beneath him, he froze. It had gone so quickly it was as blurry as his dreams.

"Stop staring." Spain hissed, forcing his lips onto his again. Hard.

The teacup in his hand had been trembling against the saucer, making a dreadful racket.

Gripping his hair lightly with his fingers, he cleared his thoughts for the last time. He took another step towards the Spanish man, his eyes fluttered shut in thought but shot open not a second after.

"What do you want Eyebrows?!" Italian accent, tanned skin, dark hair and a stupid curl of easy manipulation sticking out of his particularly hot head – God how he hated him! Romano jumped up and Spain's face, which had been leaning into the hollow of his neck, face-planted the cushions beneath him with a little, adorable groan.

"My fight's not with you, insufferable little coward. I need a word with…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Imperio España."

Spain stood up, paling as he did so. "You gave me up long ago Captain." His voice took a harsh turn, eyes narrowing, lips curled into a dangerous scowl. "I have nothing to say."

The British nation fought against everything in him to stay put, ceasing the trembles in his hands by focusing on keeping his knees from shaking in panic. "But I have plenty."

Glancing at the door, Spain joined in a sigh and gave an abrupt nod. "Only so I have something to gossip to France about later…"

There wasn't any time between walking through the door to shoving the Spaniard now wrapped around his waist into the corridor wall; lips smashed together violently, teeth grazed the soft flesh of the others neck and hands gripped at clothes and hair in a needy and desperate way.

England took a deep breath, practically panting as he strived to get air in his lungs, brushing back the Spanish man's sweaty locks with the back of his trembling hand "You belong with me… Spain not with him, w-"

He was cut off by another sharp kiss, the legs around his hips clenched in a weak warning.

"Don't talk about him." He muttered breathlessly. "I don't want to hear anything soppy from you."

It again brought a chuckle, laughing lightly against the others lips. It was cliché, like a badly written love scene.

"What are you laughing at puta?!" Spain glared, the smile swept off his face unexpectedly as he landed on his back, the gentleman above him with a hand resting on his chest.

Another laugh and a devilish smile followed as response, melting him into the floor noticeable. "Please… this isn't what I want." England muttered back with desperation in his voice, sliding a hand up the other chest to roughly stroke his neck. "You belong with me, only me… not him. Spain."

Another whimper came from the man below him as he stared up; tears teetering in his eyes once again and head lolled to the side in pleasure. "T-Te echo de menos… Inglaterra."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it."

Spain's heart had caught in his throat and he stared up like he'd just been dropped into the moment. With a scowl he replied. "You gave me up long ago. Do you remember that?"

It struck England and hard, feeling like he'd taken a blow to the chest he clutched at his jacket and held onto the hand that was already there. "Times were changing."

"Then you should have let them change."

"We could have destroyed the world."

"We would have destroyed the world." Spain affirmed.

There was an unsettling pause between them, they both knew it was true and England couldn't deny it. He watched Spain for a moment, brushing back his hair with a pained smile. "I wish I could go back."

"What do my eyes say when we fight?" A faint blush prickled the Spanish cheeks with a shy smile and his hand stroked down England arm, lacing their fingers.

"They show me how much fight you hold back just so you can lose to me..."

Thanks for reading! x