The World Was Here First

001: Hug

"Admit It"

Romano hated to admit that he was weak. It was just one more reason why he'd be left behind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, there would be more truth to all of those hints.

"Hagushite! Hagu, hagu!"

"Yes, yes..."

It bothered the Italian to no end. His younger brother was so boisterous, so open to everyone, so much better than he was at anything and everything. It was annoying. Their grandfather preferred the younger brother over him. He literally had to grow up into an adult the moment he was born, since his younger brother was so useless.

Feliciano even replaced him with someone else already. That macho potato...It had to be him, didn't it?

His glare intensified when the other Italian leaned in closer to the taller German to press his lips to the other. He didn't know they had gotten that far yet. He'd have to remember to throw some more tomatoes at that potato bastard. The nation had no right stealing away his younger brother; he had no right to even be with the Italian. To Romano, it was blasphemy.

A twinge of jealousy coursed through him, and he had to turn away from the sight. Not like his brother would have seen him staring from the second floor window. He could still hear the two, Feliciano giving a loud farewell to that potato bastard. Still, looking at that irrefutable proof that his younger brother had replaced him, with that macho potato, no less, undeniably hurt.

He was really going to give it to that German bastard when he had the chance.

Not really wanting to hear his younger brother fake cheeriness when greeting him (even if that was a small lie to himself), the annoyed nation took his coat and stormed off, heading out of the house. Where, he didn't really know or care, just so long as it was away from his home.

(He lied to himself too much. He really did care. But it wasn't like he was about to admit it to anybody, and as such he lied to himself constantly to cover up his true feelings.)

He had wandered for quite a long time before he really realized that it was to the Spaniard's doorstep his feet had lead him. It was a moment longer before he became aware that he had just been standing there outside, like an idiot. Berating himself, but not really convinced he wanted to see the laid-back nation at the moment, he began to pace back and forth on the front door step. That spark of jealousy was whispering in an oily voice to him, pushing him to head inside, but his mind was rejecting the very notion. This was Spain he was thinking about. What in his right mind made him even consider that seeing the Spaniard would make him feel any better?

Turning on his heel, he made the first step away from the door when it burst open. He cringed the second that all too-familiar voice met his ears. "Oh, Romano! What're ya doin' just waiting out here? C'mon inside, I was just about to eat!"

Against his better judgment, Romano rolled his eyes and followed his former boss inside. He just couldn't give up the chance of free food, it was too tempting an offer. Especially from Spain.

The interior of the house was very familiar. Since Romano had grown up and left, things hadn't changed much. It was a welcome sight to see, not that he'd ever admit that to the taller man before him. Glaring daggers at the back of his head, he reluctantly trudged along behind the Spaniard, fully able to navigate the house on his own.

Was he insulted at the gesture of being led around like a lost, unfamiliar child? Oh, Spain had no idea.

The fact that the said dinner was pasta made thing slightly more bearable. The fresh tomatoes sitting in a bowl on the table also helped somewhat. The fact that the table had been already set for two didn't even cross his mind as peculiar as he simply plopped down to begin the meal. Spain sat down slower than the eager Italian had, all the while smiling over at his former charge.

Spain always had the best fresh tomatoes. They were grown right in his backyard, after all. Dinner was finished far too early for Romano's liking, but it had been a good meal. That small fact made up for the lack of length. As the Spaniard cleaned up, not allowing Romano to help since 'he was a guest' (though was most likely more akin to the fact that Romano wasn't good at cleaning), Romano decided to wander around for a while. Just the thought of going back to meet his brother, the one who was better, more desired than he was, made him grimace in distaste. He didn't want to deal with it right now.

The customary insults having been flung at his former boss, the easily aggravated Italian headed off into the house to do some thinking. It was once again time to allow his feet to lead him wherever they wanted.

By the time he stopped in his tracks, he was in a foul mood from his pondering. Thinking about everything like he was just made him irritable and lonelier on the inside. His brother would be leaving him. To be with that kraut bastard. He would be left alone, just like how it had been last time, like how it would always be.

Iddio, he wanted to break something.

Settling for the nearest thing he could lay his hands on, he wrenched a frame from the top of the surface and tossed it at the floor angrily. In his heated moment, he hadn't even recognized what he had tossed. Just that it shattered was good enough for him. As he lurched forward for another object, though, he realized it as something familiar, something he knew. With the spike of fury slowly ebbing away, he found that his feet had carried him into Spain's office. The second item he had grabbed from the desk was a vase filled with dazzling red roses.

Those roses were always decorating the house when he had visited, and as far back as he could remember, when he had actually lived there. Gently, he placed the vase back on the desk from where he had grabbed it. By that time, Spain had heard the crash and was striding in through the door, worry etched into her features.

"Romano! What happened? What broke?"

The shattering must have made a fairly loud crash for Spain to have heard it from the kitchen. Indignantly, the Italian huffed uncooperatively, turning away from the Spaniard. "Why the hell should I tell you, jackass?"

Laughing lightly in amusement at the hot-tempered nation's reply, something he could have easily predicted, Spain knelt down to retrieve the broken frame carefully. From his extensive contact and interaction with Romano, he knew that he wouldn't get a better answer than that, no matter how hard or for how long he tried. His expression quickly changed upon seeing the picture inside. "Ah, Lovi! You broke the glass of my favorite frame!"

"It's easily replaced, moron. If you weren't such a lazy bastard, you could have it done by tomorrow."

Again, the older nation was laughing at the jab the Italian struck out at him. It made Romano twitch angrily. How could the Spaniard simply laugh off his insults the way he did? "That hurts, Lovi...But you're right. At least the picture didn't get cut or anything...Then I might have had to take issue with ya."

They both knew the line about the frame wasn't true. Spain cared nothing for the frame; he was more intent on the photo it held. Slightly curious, Romano craned his neck (very unnoticeably, thank you) to get a better look as the other nation pulled it out of the broken frame with considerable care. A flash of brown hair on a young child and a smiling younger version of Spain holding that child was all he could see. He may have been mistaken, but the child was grinning as well, and had the tell-tale curl of hair both Italians sported.

And Romano never grinned for Spain as a child.

It wasn't so shocking, that Spain had a picture of his younger brother and not him. Even though he was the one Spain had been given control of, he always had preferred to have the younger Italian as well. It was understandable, too. Feliciano was cuter, more capable of cleaning, was less high-maintenance, all-around better than Romano could ever hope to be. Of course Spain would prefer the younger brother over him.

Then why, why did it hurt so much to admit that?!

Spain, again, looked worried. His expression must have been betraying him. "...Hey, Romano, are ya all right?"

A crazy, wild thought struck him just then. Why not try what Feliciano did? It was stupid to even think of trying it, to even hope that it could work, but Romano was desperate. Hollow. He didn't want to get left behind.

Quietly, really wishing he hadn't decided to go through with the insane idea, Romano clenched his eyes shut and rushed out the word. He was already embarrassed for these irrational fears, and this certainly wasn't helping. "Ha-Hagushite."

Spain, for all he was worth, couldn't quite comprehend what the Italian had just murmured. Blinking in confusion, he decided asking for clarification this time was more necessary than unwise. "...What?"

"B-Bastard! D-Don't make me say it again! Just...Hagushite, Spain, you jackass!"

It still didn't quite make sense why Romano would be asking him, of all people, for a hug, but Spain grinned nonetheless. At least he was getting some kind of recognition past all the insults. When his smile dropped into a mischievous smirk, though, Romano gulped thickly. "...You used to be able to say it before. Ask that way and I'll give it to you."

Hissing angrily at the Spaniard's manipulation tactic, Romano refused to give in. No matter how that voice made him shiver, he would not give in. "H-Hell no! I-I asked already, all right?! Just damelo!"

Eyes widening at his slip, face turning tomato red, he missed the way the smirk turned back into a grin on Spain's face. It wasn't his normal grin, however. "If ya really want..."

The arms enveloped him before he really had a chance to process what was going on, and his first instinct was to head butt the assailant. So, Romano's head found its way into Spain's chin, and the Italian hurriedly pulled away as the Spaniard recoiled in pain.

"Ow! Hey, Lovi, what'd ya do that for?"

"P-Pervert!"

Spain sighed, long and tiredly. He couldn't say he hadn't been expecting this. "C'mon, you asked me to hug ya. And how is a hug perverted?"

"Sh-Shut up! Don't argue with me! Bastard!"

Resigned to his fate, Spain made several more attempts at giving the Italian his hug and acquiring several more bruises. Even if he had said it, he didn't seem to want it anymore. Romano was such a contradiction in that sense. "Lovi! Stop that!"

"No! Idiot! Asino!"

"You told me to give you a hug!"

"Now I don't want one! Just take your hug and leave me be! Pervert!"

Getting fed up, and quickly, Spain simply grabbed the Italian and hugged him tightly, forcing him into an embrace he knew Romano wasn't strong enough to get out of. Predictably, he did struggle against the Spaniard's grip for a long while, before Spain finally released him. He glared at Spain with a front of hatred, but it wasn't as hard of a glare as he was hoping for it to be.

Because, truly, on the inside, he was glad that Spain was willing to go through so much trouble to fulfill his request. Not that he would ever admit it, though, just like how he would never admit to his cooking being as good as he truly thought it was.

And still, somehow, Spain would understand.

"Bastard. I didn't need your hug."

"You're welcome, Romano."

He would have started yelling at him again, if the picture hadn't caught his eye once more. That small picture, so obviously important to Spain, had been set down on the desk. It was of a pouting, younger Romano and a grinning Spain, holding the younger nation up proudly. Like a parent, or an older brother.

Romano refused to admit it, even to himself, that it made him a little happier on the inside. It wasn't Feliciano, and he wasn't going to get left behind. At the very least, Spain could hold on just a little while longer.

"I'm staying here tonight. That macho potato will be all that Veniciano is going to talk about."

"Ah, so Ita-chan and Ludwig are finally going out now?"

"Bastard!! He better not touch my brother in any inappropriate ways! I'll kill him!"

"Let 'em be, Lovi."

"And you, jackass! Stop standing up for that potato bastard or I'll start calling you tomato bastard!"

A/N: This is a gift for my friend Kakeru/Adannaya, so I hope she enjoys it!
A few notes: Hagushite = Give me a hug [Japanese]
Iddio = God [Italian]
Damelo = Give me it [Spanish]
Asino = Ass [Italian]
If I got any of those incorrect, please tell me!