Oh dear... this wasn't what I was meant to do...

Rated M for language and *cough* stuffs coming soon.

Hope you enjoy it! ^.^

Chapter One:

The clink of glasses, the clunk of bottles, the lively chatter; together they brought the sounds of three countries sitting together. It was nearing the end of the night, and Spain knew by the blur in his vision that it was almost time for him to head home. France lay sprawled across the sofa, holding a wine glass above him and staring into it as if it were some mystical being. Prussia, meanwhile, continued to ramble on about his latest confrontation with Hungary – not that the others were really listening to him.

"... and then she hit me with the damned frying pan!" he shouted, slamming his beer mug down on the table.

Groaning at the conclusion of the story, Spain sunk further into his armchair. "Ah dios mio! When does she not hit you with the blasted frying pan?" Draining the last of his own wine glass, he placed it on the table and pointed at Prussia. "Why don't you just kiss each other already?"

"Kiss!" France squealed from his seat – probably not even listening to the actual conversation.

Grimacing like a child, Prussia threw some half-eaten bread at the Spaniard. "Why kiss someone who's trying to hit you?"

"It's what I do with Roma all the time!" Spain grinned.

His friends exchanged a look France gave a sigh and placed his glass on the floor (albeit shakily).

"I don't recall you telling us that you and the lovely Romano are an item...?" France said pointedly.

"Oh, we're not!"

"Then the kissing...?" Prussia asked, waving his hand for Spain to expand.

Laughing nervously, he rubbed his neck and gave a soft sigh. "It was a joke. Our kisses aren't exactly serious... mostly just me being... well, me." Spain couldn't help but drop his eyes – unable to look at his two friends who were watching him with actual pity.

"And you tell me to kiss Hungary 'already'," Prussia scoffed. "How long have you been drooling over the noisy brat?"

"The term is 'hopelessly in love'!" France corrected him dramatically.

Spain frowned at them. "Cut it out!" His expression turned solemn. "It's not like I can do anything."

"And why's that?"

"Because, he's my Roma!" There wasn't even a trace of humour left in his voice. "It's my job to protect him, to stay by his side forever... I can't betray his trust by telling him... you know."

"Admitting your feelings would be betraying him?" France asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't see how that works," Prussia added.

Scratching his head, Spain stood up. "You guys don't get it. I made him a promise that I'd always be by his side, right until the day the world ends," Grabbing his jacket from the chair, Spain pulled his arms through. Pausing once he was done, he gave a small smile. "And that's where I'll be. By his side, the way I've always been."

He felt his friends' eyes on him as he walked towards the door.

"That's a miserable life," Prussia called after him.

Pausing with his hand on the door handle, Spain listened to France begin to collect his things behind him. After a moment longer, he turned back around with one of the most genuine smiles he'd ever worn. "I'm happy."

The others didn't respond. Prussia's slightly reddened face from the drink seemed tired, and he crawled over to fall onto the sofa that France had left. France – now with his things – walked over to Spain, slightly unsteady on his feet.

"Thanks for tonight Prussia darling!" France sung. "Have fun tidying up in the morning!"

"West'll do it."

And with that, Spain and France left Prussia's house. Stepping out into the chilly night air, Spain pulled his coat around him tighter. Alongside France, he started the long walk home. They were silent for the most part, but as they reached the place where they would go separate ways, France slowed.

"How do you know Romano doesn't feel the same way as you?" he asked, peering up at the dark sky overhead.

"It's a nice thought, but I'm still just 'Boss' to him," Spain shrugged. And it was a nice thought; one that he'd dreamt about countless nights. But he'd locked such hope away as just that: a nice thought.

France's eyes moved back to Spain. "You should take the chance. Even if it goes wrong, you can work it out."

"I already told you, I'm happy to stay by his side fore-"

"Count yourself lucky," France snapped, cutting Spain off midsentence. Rubbing his hands together to warm them, he began to go his own way. "Some people can't be with the one they love until the world ends."

Spain watched him until the night swallowed him up in the distance, slightly shocked at France's little outburst. Usually when he was drunk, he was more cuddly or flirtatious. Today he just seemed... strange.

Staring at the ground as he continued, Spain could only picture one face in his mind. One that warmed him up as he walked through the cold night. How long had it been since he'd first realised his feelings for his cute little henchman? He wasn't sure. One day, he'd looked up and seen Romano standing in front of him – all grown up, and standing on his own two feet as a country, no longer the little thing he'd once been given as an underling – and yet, instead of feeling sad or nostalgic, Spain's heart had been snatched. Romano had unknowingly been keeping his heart hostage ever since.

There was a small buzz in his pocket as his phone rang. Blinking out of his thoughts, Spain hurried and checked the call ID. His lips pulled into a smile as he pressed the green button and held it to his ear.

"Where the hell are you, bastard?"

Romano's voice was almost rejuvenating.

"On my way home, mi corazón!" Spain reassured him, his legs automatically moving a little faster.

"Fuck, have you been drinking?" Romano groaned.

"Si!"

"Oh joy. Well hurry it up. I'm at yours now."

Spain felt his stomach flip happily. "Hm? Why?"

"Why the hell not? Just hurry home, idiot. And sober up! I don't want you stumbling in front of a car or something equally as stupid."

There was a click before Spain heard the dial tone. Unable to remove the smile from his face, he held his phone to his chest for a moment and sighed. He wasn't that drunk, not at all. He just liked it when Romano got all protective of him when he was.

After learning that Romano was there waiting, getting home seemed more important than Spain's own life. So, with a smile on his face, he ran.