It's been a while since I wrote anything... so have a human!AU Spain/England one-shot that I wrote for a good friend.

The names Emma and Lars represent Belgium and Netherlands.

Enjoy~


He watches Antonio as he sleeps, curled up and snoring just quiet enough so that it doesn't bother him. One hand curled around the crucifix he always wears around his neck. Arthur's emotions always jolt a little whenever he's reminded of that simple golden cross - is what they did last night acceptable, in the eyes of a God? Catholic or protestant? Is Antonio having regrets? But then his lover shifts ever so slightly, and Arthur feels a little more at ease. God or no God, this has felt right for the last month, and he wouldn't trade that month's worth of memories for anything.

It's funny, really, how such a cold-hearted man such as himself has come to love this oblivious, somewhat annoying Spanish man. Arthur's not sure quite how it happened, or when their obvious frictional banter turned into actual physical friction, but he is glad things worked out the way they did. And it's a joy to have these mornings, to not wake up alone anymore in that dreary flat with that broken tap dripping all night and leaving him staring at the ceiling in despair. He could have written to his parents for money, but he had refused as a matter of pride, even though when winter came around he was sorely tempted to take up that offer of a larger, newer flat on the good side of town.

It wasn't like Antonio's flat was any better - the place was a tip, dirty clothes and half-written notes draped across every available surface. If it wasn't for Emma's attempts to keep the main section of the flat tidy, Arthur would point-blank have refused to ever stay overnight as a matter of pride. And yet he took a small comfort in it now, that messy bedroom, more likely than not because of remembered nights there.

He lifted himself a little up onto his side, very lightly brushing his fingertips up Antonio's forearm, around the shoulder and dipping into his collarbone. His fingers were so pale in comparison to this deeply tanned skin, but Arthur took a delight in mapping out his lover's body. He had done so the night before, tracing every freckle, that small patch of slightly pale skin that adorned his left hip, the small dip in his upper lip... he knew Antonio's body almost as well as his own by now, and yet everytime they were together like this it felt like the first time.

Antonio stirred under his touch, mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Stop that." So he was half-awake at least - that made a change. Usually Arthur would be up and dressed long before Antonio even bothered to open his eyes.

Well, now was a good time to take advantage. Arthur leaned closer, brushing his lips ever so lightly, before whispering in his ear "...you overslept. You missed the essay deadline."

Antonio sat bolt upright, nearly knocking his head straight into Arthur as he flailed in his blankets. "Dios! I can't be late! Why didn't you say something?!" He exclaimed, more falling than jumping out of the bed as he grabbed his mobile, staring at the time. Arthur smirked, amused by the change in Antonio's face as he checked and rechecked the time before shoving the phone down before cuffing Arthur's head. "What was that for?!"Arthur didn't mind the cuff as it was more exasperation and hadn't hurt that much, but he still winced and rubbed his head. It had been worth it, though. "You needed SOMETHING to get your lazy ass out of bed!"

Antonio huffed, arms folded over his chest as he glared at him for a moment, then arms unfolding as he scrambled around his room for something relatively clean to wear. "I would have gotten up! ...eventually," he added the last word as a mutter, tugging on some boxers.

Arthur sat up, leisurely stretching his arms as he leaned back against the wall. "Nope. You wouldn't have."

Antonio paused, and a hint of his usual grin appeared. "Sí. I would have."

Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbing the pillow Antonio had been using and chucking it at him. "Go and have your coffee and wake up properly, idiot."

Antonio grabbed it and grinned, hugging it to his chest as he took Arthur's advice and left. It hadn't taken Arthur too long to realise that Antonio only functioned properly once he had downed his morning mug of coffee, otherwise he was stuck with a drowsy, temperamental Spaniard for the rest of the day, and more than likely no chance of getting laid later.

He stared up at the ceiling for a bit, idly listening to the clatter from beyond the wall and the chatter of voices. Some of Antonio's flatmates must be up, then. Probably Emma, since Lars barely talked and Arthur had not once seen Lovino awake before midday. He yawned leisurely, taking his time as he clambered out of bed, picking through the mismatch of clothes before he found the ones he had worn last night. They'd do until he could shower and change back at his own flat.

"Leaving already?"

Arthur hastily tugged his jumper down, turning to face Antonio, who'd just leaned against the doorway with his mug in hand. Arthur could smell the coffee from across the room, and although he wasn't too fond of the taste, he loved that scent because it smelt like Antonio. "Yep. Got to finish off my essay too, you know?" He felt a small twinge of pride as he thought about his mostly-finished thesis on those much-thumbed copies of Jane Austen novels littering his desk, striding forward and pausing opposite him. Sure enough, he could just make out the top of Emma's hair as she lounged on the couch, watching some random tv show. "SOME of us around here have to work," he added, turning back to his boyfriend and silently relieved that it wasn't either of Antonio's male flatmates.

Antonio gave a small chuckle, taking another sip from his mug. "Sí, okay." He leaned forward, planting a warm, coffee-flavoured kiss against Arthur's mouth. "I'll get you back for that wake-up call later. Just you wait!"

Arthur smirked back, messing up Antonio's hair. "You wish, Casanova!" He strode off, giving a quick "hi bye" to Emma as he left.

The last thing he heard, bringing a satifised grin to his lips, was Antonio exclaiming indigently as he shut the door behind him: "Wrong country! That guy was Italian!"