Chapter one, yee! I'm really excited, I'm actually writing something other than a oneshot! So, sorry if it goes a little roughly at first, since I'm so new!

This story is basically canon with the Hetalia universe (which is not mine, sadly), except for one major thing; Spain DID NOT raise Romano as a kid. They've never interacted much before this point. Ok, enjoy!

Close Encounters

"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton

You'd think he'd never been to a freaking beach before, Romano thought sourly as he watched his brother playing.

Italy was currently running across the sand, chasing seagulls, flapping his arms, and laughing the whole time. After a few minutes, he tripped and landed face first on the beach. Romano couldn't help but snort with laughter as his dopey little brother got up and brushed the white sand off his chin. Then he settled back on his beach towel and closed his eyes, trying to get in a little nap while Italy was otherwise occupied.

They were on a beautiful beach in southern Spain, enjoying some time off, away from their own country. This beach, something of a local secret rather than a tourist spot, was barely occupied and the sun was beating down strongly. It was the perfect place and time for a man to take a well-deserved siesta, or so Romano thought.

"Italy, are you ok?" the blond-haired ape by his side called, ruining the peace and quiet and forcing Romano's eyes back open to glare at him. Then he rolled his eyes as Italy waved back an affirmative response. Why am I stuck with the potato-bastard? He's Feliciano's stupid boyfriend! Ah well, might as well have some fun with him since he's here…he grinned to himself mischievously at the thought.

"Ya know, I'll never understand what you see in him. Is he good in bed or something?" Romano said in his most casual voice, though inside he was laughing uncontrollably. No one was supposed to know about their 'secret' little relationship, but Romano had known right along. He wasn't stupid, no matter what that conceited German thought.

Germany's cheeks flared red. "W-what do you mean?" he stuttered nervously.

"Come on," Romano continued, savoring the moment. "He's my baby brother, don't think I don't know what he's up to when he sneaks out of the house every other goddam night." How he loved the look of embarrassment and consternation on the bastard's face.

Luckily for Germany, he was saved from having to respond by Italy, who showed up at that moment and began tugging on his arm. "Vee~ let's go swimming, Germany!" Germany hesitated for a second, but then glanced at Romano and apparently decided he'd rather not stay with the grumpy nation.

"Yeah, sure," he said, following Italy down to the water. As they left, Romano intended to go back to trying to sleep, but found his eyes opening again after only a few seconds. He couldn't help but watch the pair approach the surf.

Just before their feet touched the water, Italy seemed to ask Germany something, to which the larger nation immediately shook his head. Italy was persistent; but so was Germany. They argued for a moment before Italy, laughing, grabbed the edge of Germany's T-shirt, which he hadn't taken off since they got to the beach, and began to pull up on it.

Germany continued to resist for a few seconds, but eventually conceded, and let Italy pull off the black material. It really didn't look like it was the first time Italy had undressed the blue-eyed man, Romano noted bitterly. He also couldn't help but notice how Italy's fingers trailed across Germany's finely-sculpted chest and shoulders as he passed him on his way back up the beach to place Germany's carefully, lovingly, folded shirt out of the reach of the waves.

It's disgusting, he sneered, closing his eyes firmly again. I can't watch this.

He counted to thirty before he couldn't help but look again. The two were now wading in the shallow, warm water. Italy splashed Germany and a quick chase ensued, until both countries were thoroughly soaked in saltwater. Italy caught up to Germany and grabbed hold of both his hands, swinging their arms back and forth for a minute while he said something. Then he pushed his face closer to Germany's…way closer…

"Shit," Romano muttered under his breath, furious. But Germany jerked his head back just before their lips met. He seemed to be looking back at the beach, towards Romano, who smirked. Yeah that's right, you jerk, you'd better not kiss my brother right in front- his thoughts were cut short as Germany defiantly turned around and kissed Italy on the mouth, slowly, deliberately, and seemingly to the surprise of both Italian brothers.

That little potato eating bastard! He'll pay for this, someday! Romano clenched his fists, wishing they were around Germany's throat, though in his heart he knew he'd never be able to muster the courage to attack such a powerful nation, let alone his brother's lover. But it just made him so mad to see them together, having fun, laughing.

He hated to admit it, but he was kind of jealous of Germany. Italy was always saying nice things about the man; he looked up to him, respected him, and admired him. He'd never done any of those things with regard to his big brother. Not only that, but Germany just made Italy so happy, something Romano had never really understood. How could a single person create so much joy in the life of another? But mostly, he was jealous of the two for having such a simple relationship, where it was so easy to see that they loved each other. Even if it did make him want to gag.

Not that he needed someone like that in his life; no, not even close. But it might be nice to have…a friend. It wasn't a concept he was very familiar with, but it might be worth a try. That is, if he could find a single person he could stand to be around, and so far he was out of luck. He hated pretty much everybody.

He rolled onto his side, adjusted the umbrella sticking in the sand so that he got prime protection from the hot Spanish sun, and closed his eyes to try and sleep for the third time. This time he truly was sick of watching the lovebirds, so he managed to doze for a few minutes before he was awoken by a drop of cool water landing on his cheek.

He sat upright, surprised, and found Italy leaning over him. It seemed the offending drop of water had fallen from the end of Italy's single strand of hair that perpetually curled away from the rest of his head, a phenomenon repeated in Romano's dark locks. Germany stood a few feet away, drying off and putting his shirt back on, clearly avoiding Romano's eyes for the time being.

"What do you want?" he asked irritably, annoyed at having been awoken in such an abrupt manner.

"Wanna build a sandcastle with us!" Italy burst out with barely contained enthusiasm, like building sandcastles was the epitome of excitement.

Romano just stared at his little brother, distaste written all over his face. "No," he answered shortly, and lay back down, pretending to sleep again until Italy and his companion were gone. Then he sat up and looked around to find them, somewhat curious despite himself. They had moved down to the firmer, damp sand closer to the gently lapping waves, and were kneeling down and digging a moat to surround their soon-to-be castle.

There was something greatly amusing about big, tough Germany building a sandcastle, and Romano had just gotten his phone out to take a picture (for future blackmail opportunities) when he was interrupted by a cheerful voice behind him.

"Hola, amigo, is this spot taken?"

Romano turned around to find a lone young man pointing to the patch of clear sand on his left. Really? There's hardly anyone on this beach, why does he have to pick the one spot so close to me? Romano was about to lie and tell the man that it was indeed being used by somebody when he realized that he actually knew the guy.

"Spain?"

"Hm?" The vaguely smiling brunette looked a little confused for a moment. Then he continued with a lowered voice, "How did you know I was a nation?"

Romano gave him a blank look for several seconds before Spain's eyes widened with recognition. "Italy Romano! Is that really you? Lo siento, I didn't recognize you in your bathing suit!" he laughed in a surprised, carefree manner that really rubbed Romano the wrong way. Annoying bastard…

Spain spread his blanket out rather closer to Romano's towel than he would have liked and made himself comfortable, pulling a drink out of a small cooler and chatting about the weather and other such inconsequential things, most of which Romano didn't bother to listen to.

What is with this guy? he wondered mildly as he stared with a mixture of dislike and wonder at the newcomer, who was still talking, oblivious to the wandering mind of his audience. Romano had never really talked to Spain much before. He only recognized him from seeing him at World Meetings. It wasn't exactly a surprise to see him here; they were in Spain, after all. But still, he hadn't considered that they could run in to each other like this. It was obnoxious, really. He'd been hoping to spend the afternoon quietly, and alone, but that particular plan was now ruined.

Spain continued talking for half an hour without a single break, not requiring any more than a nod or single word every now and then from Romano. Romano was admittedly impressed with how well the Spaniard could hold a conversation by himself. He didn't even seem to notice, or care, that Romano wasn't listening.

Romano was actually glad, for the first time in a long time, when his brother and Germany returned. Spain and Italy greeted each other like they were old friends, though in truth they barely knew one another, while Germany introduced himself more formally, as usual.

Italy sat down quite casually on Spain's beach blanket and helped himself when offered a drink. Romano sneered and rolled his eyes; his brother was always so familiar with people he didn't know, it was irritating.

Looking at Italy, Spain said, "So, Italy Romano was ju-"

"It's just Romano," Romano interrupted shortly. "And he goes by Italy."

"Ah yes, I forgot, you told me that," Spain replied chirpily, tapping his forehead lightly as if to berate himself for forgetting, an annoying and tasteless gesture in Romano's opinion. "Anyway, Romano was just telling me that you guys were going to be here for a few days." He smiled around at the three other nations. "It would give me great pleasure if you would stay at my house and allow me to show you around Spain as only I can."

"Really? We'd love to!" Italy gasped, bouncing up and down with excitement. Then he and Spain laughed, like they were sharing some great private joke, while Romano had to fight the urge to shake his head in distress. "Right, guys?"

Germany nodded and said politely, "Of course. Thank you so much, Spain."

Now all three other men stared at Romano expectantly. "Sure…" he finally muttered, knowing that he couldn't say no in this situation and hating it.

"¡Fantástico! This will be so much fun!" He and Italy continued laughing and making various excited noises as they planned Romano's vacation away. He groaned; this was not going the way he wanted.

The afternoon seemed to pass rather quickly after that. The unlikely group chatted, drank a few beers, and, much to Romano's dismay, got to know each other a little better. He could only watch with that uncomfortable feeling of jealousy again as Italy and Spain warmed up even more than before, until they were talking and laughing like…like brothers.

I really hate this Spain guy, he thought with gritted teeth at each new idiotic development between the two. Currently, for example, they were exchanging phone numbers.

"Hey, Romano," Spain said, when they were done, grinning. "Lemme see your cell, I'll put myself as a contact."

"No."

"Eh? Why not?" Spain pouted.

"You're already in Italy's, I don't see why you need to…" he muttered, looking somewhere off to his right.

Spain heaved an overdramatic sigh, but his disappointed look was soon replaced with his customary smile. "You guys wanna head home? It's getting kinda late."

"Yeah, I'd like to see your house!" Italy replied. They all pitched in and packed up their gear in a few minutes. As they approached the parking lot, Spain called the hotel where the three travelers had been going to stay the night and had their luggage brought to his house. Of course, while he was busy on his phone, Romano had to carry his share of the beach stuff. Romano flipped the Spaniard off as well as he could with both hands full.

Spain's car had plenty of room for them and their gear, and in what seemed like no time they were pulling up outside of an old Spanish villa, like one you'd see in the movies. It had white walls, archways, and flowers and plants climbing on or spilling over every surface. Romano would have bet money there was a beautiful swimming pool behind it as well. In a word, it was perfect.

Too perfect.

Romano took an immediate disliking to it. It was beautiful, he couldn't deny it, but there was something about it that irritated him. For once, though, he couldn't quite place what it was. Which made him even more annoyed, but with himself this time, as they were shown around the house and to their rooms.

Italy and Germany's rooms were both huge and gorgeous, of course. He snorted with cynical laughter as he wondered why Spain bothered giving them separate rooms. He knew where Italy would end up sleeping tonight, and it made him somewhat relieved to know that his bedroom was down at the other end of the hall from Germany's.

"You can stay here, Romano. I hope you'll like it. I'll get us all something to eat, ok? The dining room's down the hall and on the left." Spain smiled and didn't wait for Romano's response before leaving, which was probably a good thing. Romano wasn't thinking particularly kind words at the moment. He turned around slowly, taking a deep breath and enjoying the first moment he'd had to himself all day.

His luggage from the hotel was already in the room. There were some definite perks to being a nation; everybody did what you asked them to, quickly and generally without even a question. He checked out the bathroom quickly, and found it pristine like the rest of the house, of course. He rolled his eyes, but it wasn't quite with the same contempt that he would have if the others had been there. Being alone just made him feel so much better.

After a couple minutes spent collecting himself, he decided to go to dinner, eat, and then return to his room as soon as possible.

His plan actually went almost exactly as he'd hoped, for once. Dinner was short, and pretty good, he admitted to himself begrudgingly. But the important thing was that afterwards, no one asked him to stay, so he slowly backed out of the room, hardly daring to believe it. Will they try to stop me…?

Italy was telling some bizarre story, as usual, "-and then he opened the box, and it was like love at first sight!" So much for that 'secret' relationship, Feli.

Spain laughed, and Germany looked painfully embarrassed, but nobody said anything as Romano sneaked around the corner. Yes! Home free!

He nearly skipped down the hallway, until he looked around and remembered where he was. Right, Spain's house…and he sulked the whole way to his room, depressed again as he recalled that he'd be spending a week there.

Still, once he entered the peace of his dark room, he felt the constant knot in his stomach loosen slightly. There was a balcony off of his room. Curious, he walked out to see the view of the back garden. He smirked when he saw the swimming pool. I knew it!

But looking beyond that, the Spanish garden seen by moonlight really was beautiful. There were several layers of terracing going down far behind the house, done in subtly colored red and gray stones. A lot of the flowering and smaller plants were in pots or incorporated into the architecture. Despite this, there was a sense of natural growth among many of the vines and bushes, making the garden look more organic than the front of the house. Romano took a deep breath and felt himself calm down just a notch. It wasn't so bad out here.

Bored, but not yet ready to go to bed, he pulled out his phone to see if he had any texts. He didn't. As usual. He didn't have a lot of friends, to put it mildly. He considered texting Italy something to harass him, and was just looking through his contacts when his gaze alighted on an unfamiliar name.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?

He looked at the tiny picture that accompanied the name. He stared for several seconds in disbelief, before fuming and spluttering incoherently. When did the bastard steal my phone! The picture was clearly taken at the beach earlier that day. Spain's sheepishly grinning countenance stared at him through the small screen. Apparently he had known that Romano would be angry, even when he took the picture.

I'll just delete him! But he hesitated before he could do it. What if he needed to call him sometime while he was staying here?

He sighed, unhappy with the decision, but left Spain's name, his human name, as the first contact on his rather short list. This 'vacation' was going to be more trouble than it was worth.

Hope you all liked it, and are ready for more! I'm not sure when I'll be updating it, but ideally it will be in a week or two.

By the way, I don't know anything about Spain other than hearsay and some bits and pieces from Spanish class, so if anyone has any corrections, suggestions, etc. that knows it firsthand, I would love the help!