Estoy vivo, mi amor.
A Hetalia Fanfiction
A/N- I wanted to write some Spamano. The end. :I
~000~
Lovino panted beneath the building, his sweaty, trembling hands clutching the gun in his hands. Another explosion boomed in the distance, civilians screaming in terror and pain. The Italian grimaced, his knees almost giving out from under him. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, but his jade eyes shone with frustration.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Lovino was thrown forward as a closer grenade went off, showering him with shrapnel and dust. A sharp pain in his shoulder made him cry out.
Shit, that wasn't supposed to happen either.
Lovino laid on the ground for a few moments, digging his gun into the torn earth as he struggled to regain his feet.
He tried not to think of his little brother, who was probably with that potato bastard, but still in harms way if anything happened to the potato. Lovino scowled bitterly at the thought, and that gave him the push that got him staggering to his feet.
Foreign tongues screeched in his direction, and he whipped his head toward the sound, his eyes wide. He tried running, but his clumsiness factor got the best of him and he fell on his face, his gun falling away from him.
Lovino flipped himself onto his back, pushing himself frantically back until his back was pressed up against the wall. His look was of pure terror as the men towered over him, blank smiles growing across their faces as the aimed their guns at the defenseless Italian.
…
Dammit. This was not supposed to happen.
He shut his eyes, a scream erupting from his chest.
But then there was a yell.
"Lovi!"
Lovino shook his head disbelievingly, not opening his eyes. He seemed to tear in two, the halves arguing relentlessly inside him. He wanted Antonio to save him, to be here and help him; but at the same time he didn't want that stupid fucking tomato idiot here either. He could get hurt, and that would be all his fucking fa-
The sounds of ripping flesh and cracking bones filled Lovino's ears, along with screams and hard, biting Spanish. He opened his eyes a peek, noticing he wasn't wearing a tattered military uniform, but a frilly, pink dress with a small white apron tied around him. Affixed to his head with bobby pins was the handkerchief that he always wore when he was younger.
Lovino cocked his head to the side, confused, but then he looked beyond his brown boots and what met his eyes almost made him sick.
Blood. Pools and pools of it. There were corpses around him, all slashed to pieces by some unknown force until the language that was being spoken so rapidly registered in his brain.
"Eso es mierda!"
Lovino looked up at the older man, his throat suddenly dry.
"T-Tomato..." his voice cracked,but the Spaniard didn't hear him.
"He's mine."
Lovino froze, unable to form words and Antonio continued.
"Where is that Eyebrow bastard, anyway? My battle axe needs to be sharpened a little bit, and I think he'll be the perfect tool." The menace in Antonio's voice sent shivers up and down Lovino's spine. The soldier flinched, but didn't budge.
"I will never tell you where Lord Arthur is!" he retorted, and with that, he spat in Antonio's face. Antonio's humorless smile twitched before widening on his face, turning into something that belonged on the face of a mad man.
"Respuesta incorrecta. Wrong answer," Antonio said, his voice flat.
Lovino cringed, knowing all too well what would happen next.
Oh well, Lovino thought bitterly, looking away. The fucktard deserved it, anyway.
The blood curdling scream that sounded next with the squelches of internal organs made Lovino gag and cover his ears, shrinking against the wall, but even that didn't stop the sounds from reaching him. He grin his teeth until the noises of spattering blood stopped.
Antonio stood, breathing heavily, with the smile still etched dangerously on his face, his battle axe still stuck in the now dead body in front of him. He was gripping it so hard, his knuckles were white.
Lovino blinked slowly and looked up at the man, suddenly afraid of him for the first time in his life. Absolutely terrified.
"A-Antonio...?" he stammered, lowering his hands from his head.
Lovino's voice broke Antonio out of his trance, and he snapped to reality. He turned to look at the little Italian. "Lovi? Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"
Antonio faced Lovino, worry etched all over his face. He let go of his axe, taking a step forward toward Lovino with his hand outstretched.
Lovino faltered, but after a moment stepped forward, his hand reaching as well.
Then a sword was plunged into Antonio's back and out his front, Lovino watching.
Everything was frozen for a second, and then things began to go in slow motion. Antonio's slowly widening eyes, as blood dripped from his mouth; Arthur's widening sneer as he shoved the sword fully down to the hilt.
Lovino screamed, taking and abrupt step back, but tripping over a corpse behind him. He fell backwards onto the ground, his eyes never leaving the angry color of blood dripping from Antonio's chest.
"Lo..vino..." Antonio whispered, his hand still reaching out to the Italian. He grunted in pain as the sword was ripped out of him, and he fell to the ground with a hollow thud, Lovino's gaze never leaving him.
~000~
"Lovi! Lovino!"
Lovino awoke in cold sweat, gasping in air too quickly. His hear was racing, his cheeks damp, proof of his tears in his sleep.
He was immediately smothered by Antonio's arms, a soothing hand petting the back of his head.
"It's okay, Lovi! Shhhh... it was a bad dream, that's all. Everything's okay," he said, his voice calm but tight. "Todo está bien... todo está bien..."
"Wh-What the hell happened?" the Italian asked, his voice shaking and quiet.
Antonio looked at him worriedly, breaking the hug but still holding onto Lovino's arms. "Y-You..." he looked away quickly, like it was painful for him to say it. "You were thrashing in your sleep, Lovi. You were screaming..." Antonio bit his lip.
Lovino felt his stomach lurch as he was reminded of his nightmare. He shoved Antonio off and rushed to the bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
"S-Shit," the Italian muttered. He flushed and immediately brushed his teeth, trying to remove the bitter taste of bile from his mouth. He noticed Antonio gazing in from the doorway, an anxious expression on his face.
Lovino looked away, studying his expression in the mirror. He grimaced.
"Fuck, I look terrible," he said, running his hand through his damp hair.
"No, you don't," Antonio called softly from the doorway. He looked pained. Lovino wanted to laugh at the pathetic expression on the man's face but found he couldn't.
"He's mine."
Lovino scowled as his dream flashed through his thoughts again.
"Eso es mierda..." Lovino grumbled, repeating what Antonio had said in his dream while hunching himself over the sink. This caught Antonio's attention.
"What?" he asked. "Lovi, watch your language."
Lovino rolled his eyes, knowing Antonio wouldn't see him do it. Oh, yeah, it's alright if he swore in front of him in English or Italian, but if it was Spanish? Pfft, that's a big no no.
Lovino was startled when Antonio wrapped his arms around the Italian's waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck. When he talked his voice was slightly muffled, and it tickled Lovino's neck, but he was still audible.
"Why are you so upset, Lovi? Tell me, por favor," he whispered, sounding very upset. Lovino froze for a second, then shoved the Spaniard off of him again.
"Fuck off. I don't want to talk about it, bastard," Lovino hissed, storming back out to the bed. Antonio, though, followed while looking like a kicked puppy.
"Please, Lovi. I really want to know why you're acting so strange now. Maybe I could help!" he said, pouting. Lovino looked the other way.
"No. I-It's... stupid, anyway. It doesn't fucking matter," the Italian said, huffing. He didn't even notice when Antonio walked in front of him, pulling his head gently so he would face him.
"Lovino. You're hurting, and in turn that's hurting me," he whispered, his forehead touching Lovino's.
Lovino felt his throat tighten as he gazed into Antonio's emerald green orbs that were filled with so much passion he felt he'd drown in it. He didn't answer and he turned away from those eyes to look at the floor, the color crimson coating his cheeks.
"Lovi. Please."
"I... I don't.."
"Per favore, Lovi."
Aww, great. Now he was speaking Italian, and Antonio didn't speak Italian unless he wasn't going to give up any time soon. Lovino stood up abruptly, startling the Spaniard.
"Fine!" Lovino shouted. "Do you want to know exactly what my dream was last night? Well I'll fucking tell you if you fucking need to know, jackass! I was in a war with some fucking country, but then I was cornered, and then you had to fucking show up to be the fucking hero once again. You killed everyone, b-but," he paused, tears budding in his eyes. "Right before you touched me... before you fucking held me..." Lovino's voice getting quieter and quieter.
"You... you... got murdered, you stupid asshole."
Lovino's voice faltered, close to breaking. He looked back to Antonio, holding back tears. "You stupid fucking tomato asshole."
Antonio was silent, looking down at what Lovino thought was the floor (he couldn't see his eyes, so he only assumed). Suddenly Lovino was tackled by the Spaniard, falling back onto the bed.
"W-What the he-" the Italian was cut off as Antonio pressed his lips urgently and firmly against his own. Pink dusted Lovino's cheeks but he didn't resist, closing his eyes.
Antonio ran his tongue over Lovino's bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, allowing him entrance. Antonio rubbed his tongue against the roof of the Italian's mouth, causing Lovino to moan into the kiss, his fingers curling into the Spanish man's hair.
They broke apart, breathing heavily, but Antonio just continued, planted smaller kisses down Lovino's jaw as his nimble fingers danced over the Italian's shirt, and when they found the end of the shirt, they dove underneath the fabric to play with the Italian's chest.
Lovino shuddered at the blissful feeling, but felt the tears that had been building up roll down his cheeks, and he tightened his hold onto Antonio, burying his head into his neck.
Antonio continued placing feather-light kisses wherever he could, putting one in the crook of Lovino's neck, another below his ear, and yet another on his pulse, which was beating erratically. He stopped, however, when his felt his shoulder dampen and he noticed Lovino shaking. Pulling away from him, he brushed away a tear, gazing worriedly at him.
"Mi amor," The Spaniard asked softly, "What's wrong?"
Lovino stiffened under Antonio's hold, his grip tightening as he looked away, unresponsive.
Antonio sighed, leaning in and kissing Lovino's cheek gingerly.
"Estoy vivo, Lovino. I'm not leaving you ever. Te lo prometo," he murmured against Lovino's skin, breathing in his scent. His skin immediately warmed, and Antonio chuckled.
"W-What are you talking about bastard?" Lovino stammered, breaking his silence. "I wasn't worried about that!"
Antonio, knowing the Italian was lying, just smiled softly, pulling in and kissing him softly on the forehead, staying close.
"Te quiero," Antonio whispered.
"T-Ti amo, bastardo," Lovino breathed.
Then they drifted off to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms.
~000~
Translations:
Eso es mierda! - Spanish - "That's shit!"
Todo está bien... - Spanish - "Everything's okay..." or "All is well..."
Por favor - Spanish - "Please", but if you didn't know that, it'd be a little upsetting.
Per favore – Italian - "Please"
Estoy vivo, Lovino. - Spanish - "I'm alive, Lovino."
Te lo prometo – Spanish - "I promise."
Te quiero – Spanish - "I love you."
Ti amo, bastardo. - Italian - "I love you, bastard."
Yay, first Spamano fanfiction! Reviewers get cookies!