I do not own Hetalia.
"Peace is the beauty of life. It is sunshine. It is the smile of a child, the love of a mother, the joy of a father, the togetherness of a family. It is the advancement of man, the victory of a just cause, the triumph of truth."
– Menachem Begin
...
Spain was only trying to look for Romano. He just wanted to ask him for lunch and maybe have a nice chat and a little catching up. That was his only intention for going back at the meeting room after Ita-chan had told him that his brother shooed him away and decided to stay instead. Really, that was it, he truly didn't mean to witness what seemed to be a private moment going on inside the said meeting room.
However, as he saw the scene unfolding right in front of his eyes, he couldn't help but regard it with such a mindful and intense curiosity.
There Romano was, standing approximately five meters away from the slightly ajar door where Spain stood. He was about to make his presence known and call Romano, since that was his main objective at the moment, but when he found the other occupant of the room, something about it stopped his tracks.
America was quietly sitting directly in front of Romano, his expression very different and unusual from what he normally wore. He didn't have his childish grin, nor did he have an easy-going smile that he plastered on his face every time he was in the presence of other people, other nation. No, as a matter of fact, his stance and posture screamed fatigue and his face... he looked so tired.
It was probably the first time Spain had seen it, minus war and some major incident. Notwithstandingly, America always made sure to brandish his bottomless energy, either verbally or in action. But seeing the young nation now, who appeared really, really young and overworked, he realized that America was also just like any other nation who could get tired and exhausted because of their endless work.
Spain thought it made sense, to be honest, because America's status wasn't something that just sprouted like a wild mushroom, it was earned. America earned it and he was working every day, every hour and every minute to maintain it. For such a young nation, he was already at the top, too sudden actually, and the reason behind that was this: America exhausted himself to top.
It made him realized how many wrong judgements and false criticisms had been placed upon the young nation. They saw him as immature, foolish and one who only knew how to have fun and create a mess in the process and Spain wouldn't deny that he wasn't an exception. But now... now that he was seeing what would have been a private short while - a covert moment behind closed doors - Spain was flooded with comprehension and recognition of America's hard work.
His train of thoughts was momentarily cut when he watched how America, still sitting on a chair, latched both his arms on Romano's mid-section. He couldn't see his face from this angle but he could picture how he was leaning his weight against Romano's body. Spain's eyes widened at the act, but what shocked him even more was when Romano didn't protest, he didn't even look surprised by it.
Spain's natural reaction was to be flabbergasted by the whole scene, he had never seen Romano so close with anyone like this, much less with America, and he had never seen him so accepting of someone's touch. Whenever Spain so much held a strand of his hair, the half-nation would bombard him with endless string of curses, so it truthfully shocked him - if not hurt him a little - that he was being so receptive to America's embrace. To top it all, he brought his hands to America's head and buried his fingers on the wheat-blond mop.
Romano was saying something, but only the buzz of his voice was clear to Spain. It sounded a bit irritated, but still soft nonetheless and it intrigued Spain more and more. He could see a portion of his face so he clearly noticed the worried lines from his forehead. Part of him felt like he was being rude for spying or peeping at them like this, but another part - which was huge and overpowering - was curious beyond belief.
The half-nation let out a sigh before he said something again, then America's shoulders shook the tiniest bit before he released the other from his hold. He looked up to Romano and Spain could see the frown marring his lips, as well as the droopiness of his eyes while he blinked ever so slowly at the person in front of him.
Romano repositioned both of his hands so that they were gently cradling the sides of America's face. And then, Spain wasn't sure if he was seeing it right, Romano lowered his own face until the two were nose to nose. Romano whispered something and America responded with a low murmur. They stayed like that for a moment, conversing with soft voices that Spain couldn't decipher, though that was to be expected, after all, he wasn't meant to hear or even witness any of this at all.
America released a long weary sigh and nodded at what Romano was whispering to him. He closed his eyes and permitted the other to remove his glasses and placed them on the table behind him. And then Romano proceeded to pepper his face with soft kisses. First, on his forehead, then on both of his eyes, then on his nose followed by both of his cheeks and finally, Romano planted a chaste kiss on his lips, just a slight brush of lips to lips.
Spain quietly gasped, the atmosphere surrounding them was so mellow and intimate and once again, he felt as if he was intruding on something. But more than that, he ultimately addressed the question that had been plaguing his mind: What's the relationship of these two?
"Ahh, so you've seen it now."
Spain startled at the voice behind him so much that he almost pushed the door open in panic. He latched at the knob and timidly faced the source of the sound only to get surprised that a couple of other nations were greeting him with questionably suspicious looks.
France, the one who spoke earlier and probably the only one who wasn't glaring at him, was donning an expression of exuberant mixed with some sort of gravity and magnitude. With him was England, China, Russia and there was another one that Spain couldn't see yet he could tell he was there.
"Amigos..." was what Spain muttered because he didn't know why they appeared as though they were trying to intimidate him. Admittedly, they were succeeding.
"Of course he had seen it, anyone would if the git did that here," England huffed, crossing his arms and averting his gaze from the door of the meeting room. Spain could only raise a brow in confusion.
"Angleterre, the child is stressed again, don't blame him," France responded after a second, not even missing a beat to engage a bickering battle with England.
"I know that, frog, and I am not blaming him, I am merely saying that..."
Spain tuned out whatever the Englishman was arguing about because he had a feeling that the two couldn't be easily stopped once they started one of their usual and to be honest, silly fights. Instead, he decided to divert his attention to China, hoping that he could have a proper conversation regarding the issue.
Though before he could open his mouth, Russia was already inching closer to him with his sweet and uncanny smile (of how he could manage to make it both sweet and uncanny at the same time was beyond Spain's knowledge). "You have seen it, da?"
Spain swallowed a lump on his throat. He gave the door a side glance before fixing his gaze back to the other nations. "Hey... these two... America and Romano," he spoke tentatively and what a surprise that France and England stopped arguing and paid him attention. The three other nations' gazes were glued to him, as well, and he could properly see Canada now. He looked at them one by one before continuing, "are they romantically involved?"
For a moment, no one spoke, making Spain tensed for every second that passed by. They were exchanging gazes as if they were silently conversing through mere eye contact, then they regarded Spain with an unreadable expression. England sighed, then China followed suit, then Russia smiled at him again and France just offered him a conceding look. Canada, however, muttered something under his breath that Spain regrettably didn't catch.
Just then, England replied to his question, "They're not keeping it a secret, but it's not like they wanted to broadcast it either. Those two have been dating for almost a decade now."
"A decade?!" Spain cried in surprise and quickly clamped his hand over his mouth. His eyes widened for the second time as he let the information sink in. A decade was too long, how come he didn't know? It wasn't questionable that Romano wouldn't share it to Spain but for him to not notice anything that had been happening for almost a decade... it was disheartening. "How come I didn't know?"
"Of course you wouldn't know, why would you?"
At this, Spain felt inclined to be defensive. He didn't like the tone he was using, it was as if the Englishman was trying to imply that he wasn't involve in this matter in the first place, which was ridiculous because if Romano was involved, so was he. "Inglaterra, Romano is my—"
"Your what?" England cut him off and Spain couldn't understand why he was so angry at him. "Your former charge? Alright, you did take care of him when he was young, I'll give that to you. But have you been paying attention to him now? Are you even aware that he became our ally in the end?"
Spain furrowed his brows. He wanted to say something, to argue back and reason out that he was totally paying attention to his cute little former henchman, but thinking about what he had discovered a few seconds prior, he came with the realization that he was, in fact, not paying enough attention to Romano.
While he was under the other's scrutiny, he chewed on his lower lip as he thought of the weeks, months and years that he hadn't seen Romano. They rarely talked nowadays, and when they did, Spain was always pulling him in a one-sided conversation as he cooed over how cute he was (or how cute the tomatoes were, or how cute the cats were). He always spoke and never listened. Now that he was thinking about it, there were probably times when Romano wanted to say something, but he would briskly brush it off and babble by himself instead as he jumped to conclusions.
He felt bad, he felt like he was a negligent father, failing to even hear out his child and now that he was discovering something about him, he had the audacity to question why he had not known it. He was terrible.
"I should talk to Roma..." he said remorsefully. He could already predict how it would go, Romano would be all irritated - if not angry - at him.
"Oi, don't get any ideas, you bloody wanker," England addressed him again and not for the first time, he had a sense of bewilderment as to why the Englishman was directing his pent-up anger to him. "Those two have been going steady for a long time now, should you or anyone for that matter interfere or ruin what little happiness they have, you will face a dreary consequence."
Spain blinked at him, remarking the indignant look that he always wore on his face which was now being coated with something that reminded him of the Englishman's pirate days. Truthfully, he was half-frightened and half-scandalized.
"No England, he would not dare. Would you?" Russia asked him, and while he didn't draw nearer like before, his eye-smile was enough of an indication that the query was more of a threat than a curious sentence.
Spain grumbled pensively to himself. He didn't know how he ended up being ganged up by this group of nations who were clearly trying to drill something into his mind. England and Russia aside, China's gaze was full of contempt and Canada was also looking at him suspiciously, like he wouldn't trust anything that would come out from his mouth. And then there was France, sending him an apologetic look yet obviously, he was implying that Spain should take the threat seriously, or else... or else there would be consequences.
What he couldn't understand, however, was the plain and apparent protectiveness they held for the two and their relationship. As far as he knew, they had always been so quick to derogate the young nation any given time and remark him with so much indignity. They had always affronted him with their constant complaints of either his abrasive behavior or his immature work ethics. Didn't these nations dislike the young one, or at the very least, disfavor him?
"For someone who hates América's guts, you sure act overprotective for his relationship," Spain said, deliberately making his tone partially curious. All eyes were on him again and he was being cornered by the Allied Forces like he was some kind of an enemy barging in on their territory.
"Hate his guts?" England asked in disbelief and France brought his hand on his lips to stifle a chuckle.
"You're always insulting him and barraging him with ceaseless accusations. Do you even get along with him?" he answered, feeling the need to self-justify and prove his point. It was true, anyway.
England gaped at him for a moment, wanting to say something but didn't know exactly what to say. Then, he face-palmed himself and sighed, "Of course an outsider wouldn't understand." His voice was slightly muffled but Spain still heard it, and thus narrowed his eyes in response.
"Spain, mon amie, you shouldn't take everything at a face value," France supplied when the silence stretched and no one dared to speak, not even Spain, himself, as he contemplated on what to say.
"What do you mean?" he questioned France, but China apparently had his answers.
"That stupid boy," China started, pointing a look of seniority at Spain, "no matter how much of a stupid boy he is, is still our stupid boy."
"China, you just said stupid boy three times," France commented.
"Well, he is a stupid git," England replied and shrugged a shoulder, but there was fondness on his tone.
Russia smiled, Canada and France chuckled, and China had a nostalgic look on his face, but they all carried the same affection for a certain nation. It wasn't obvious, but it was becoming apparent now that Spain was being introduced to it.
Spain watched them, he observed their facial expression and gestures because he found it hard to believe that they actually had this frame of mind when it comes to America. Were they telling the truth or was this a ploy or something? Were they actually trying to tell him that they cared and had been caring for America more than what others had thought? Were they saying that behind all the disapproval and animosity that they displayed toward the young nation was supervision and protection combined with loving care?
So, was that the reason why in spite of all the insults and calling names, America never really felt discouraged or hurt? Maybe it was. Spain pondered that no matter how scornful the older nations treated him, America was still his usual self. Spain once thought that he was only trying to evade all the insults thrown to him by acting ignorant, but now, he knew for sure that America was aware that every little jibe subjected to him were decidedly empty.
On a third party's point of view, the Allied Forces had an aversion with America, they disliked him and only considered him as an immature child. On the other hand, these nations' point of views were objectively the opposite, judging from how protective they were. America, too, had his own perspective about it and it wasn't important to him what other people's thoughts were in terms of his relationship with the other nations. That and he was genuinely oblivious with the fact that the way he was being treated appeared really offending in the eyes of the public.
These nations were right, he was an outsider to their group. He was quick to judge their situation and standing based on what he had seen, he didn't even try to consider how they valued each other.
That said, there was something that they mistook about him. Spain was actually very fond of America, he was like him in some certain ways. He had a sunny smile that could brighten up any darkness and he was always ready and willing to help those in need. He was childish, sure, but he was young, so he had every right to act his age especially because he had grown too fast and too sudden. Furthermore, now that he had become conscious of how America was behind closed door and how he acted when in public, Spain felt another spark of admiration toward him as though he was seeing the young - very much younger than him - nation on a different light. He was rooting for him, he had been and he would always be.
So when he said that he needed to talk to Romano about their relationship, it wasn't because he wanted to interfere, for he would never ruin a very cute relationship between his cute Romano and the American hero.
.
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
– Lao Tzu
.
Romano was very irritated. It wasn't even his default 'irritated mode' directed to the general public. No, actually, it wasn't directed to anyone and it certainly wasn't because he would be skipping lunch today.
He was irritated because this stupid bastard was over-working himself again.
He had noticed it earlier at the meeting. America had stepped inside wearing his usual carefree smiles. He had chatted with other nations with his wild and uproarious personality and even bickered lightheartedly with the English bastard. Romano had watched him discreetly and when their gazes met and he saw a flicker of lassitude on his eyes, Romano could instantly tell how stressed America was.
So now, he decided to stay after the other nations went for lunch to scold this stupid workaholic bastard.
He had half the heart to put his hands on his hips to add an effect for his reprimanding stance, but seeing as America immediately detached his façade and showed his true feelings in Romano's presence while he looked up at him, he decided against it. "So, what do you have to say?"
Romano waited for the whine that he predicted would come, it was always like this, after all. They resembled a mother and her child about to go on a nagging session regarding his bad ways in life. Romano would point out his continuous stubbornness and neglect on his own health and then America would whine and reason out with him like a childish man he was.
That, however, didn't occur as America stayed silent under Romano's glare. He didn't say anything, not even grunting some sort of a response, he just circled his arms around Romano's middle and embraced him, leaning ever so closely until he could feel his body warmth enveloping him too.
Romano's irritation suddenly crumbled into pieces because this was not good, this was worse than he expected. He felt a tug on his heart at how vulnerable America was right now, like any moment he let Romano go, he would collapse. It didn't show on face - the signs of fatigue never appeared on his face, his eyes were bright as ever, no dark circles forming and his complexion was still a shade of natural pale - it's more about on how he presented himself that indicated how tired he was and when they were this close, it was as if America was communicating through body language and Romano felt so many emotions at once.
He gently placed both of his hands to caress the blond's head, burying his fingers inside his hair to give the scalp a tender massage. "You're so stupid," he murmured softly, concern and regret filling his voice, "so, so stupid."
America was still tight-lipped, only breathing in and out. Romano could only sigh. "I won't say anything anymore, you know how stupid you are anyway." He could feel a bit of tension leaving America's body as he exhaled shakily and loosened his hold before eventually releasing him from the tight hug.
Romano held America's face with both of his hands and gave him an Eskimo kiss, reveling at the welcoming closeness. America's glasses were slightly obstructing the gesture but he paid no mind to it as he whispered, "I know you're not okay."
A warm smile ghosted over the other's lips as he closed his eyes. "I'm fine," he murmured back.
"Yeah right, so you don't need me?"
"No, I need you."
Their faces were still so close as their noses touched ever so lightly, their breaths fanning each other's lips while they conversed on low murmurs and soft whispers. Evidently, America's stiff shoulders were gradually slackening and he was already relaxing bit by bit. Romano was pleased for being responsible for it.
"If I didn't love you this much, I would've left you already."
"Yeah, I know."
"So you know, you jerk."
"Yes."
"Good, at least you know something and you're not being stubborn about it."
"Yeah and I love you too, Romano."
"If you really do, you'll sit at dinner tonight and eat what I'll cook and then you'll rest for the whole evening. You can do that, can't you?"
America let out a long weary sigh and nodded, thankfully being complaisant for once. He must be really tired to argue about it. Romano took that chance to remove his glasses, carefully placed it on top of the table and showered America's face with featherlight kisses.
"My poor baby." He planted a soft kiss on his forehead, soothing all the stress lines that formed in there. Then he proceeded to give the same kiss on both of his closed eyes, he felt the fluttering of his eyes lashes and turned to relax them, as well. Then he kissed the tip of his nose as he felt the vibration of every inhale and exhale. He also kissed his left cheek and did the same to the right while caressing the silky smooth skin. And lastly, he pressed his lips to America's lips in a light kiss, something diminutive that carried a lot of meaning. Every kiss and every touch meant something and although it wasn't enough to convey the full extent of his feelings, it was more than enough for a reassurance.
"Thank you, Romano. As always," America breathed and gave him a faint yet sincere smile.
Romano wanted to warn him that this would be the last time, that he wouldn't tolerate anymore of his stupidity, but at the back of his mind, he knew that it wasn't. America would always overwork himself to the point of stressing exhaustion and Romano would always be there to take care of him, no matter how many times he complained about it. That role was his alone, after all, and he would never even think of giving it to anyone. So instead of saying anything, he lifted America's chin to face him.
He pressed their lips together for the second time, but this turn, it was a passionate kiss that implicated not only his reassurance but also conveyed his love and devotion. America lazily moved his lips to reciprocate the kiss while Romano deepened it, intimately swiping his tongue to part the lips open and taste the inside of America's mouth. Then, with one last press to his lips, he pulled away.
From the door, Romano heard the soft yet rapid knocking that was followed by someone clearing his throat. It was like a code, an indication that their time was up temporarily. He internally thanked those bastards and gave America a final once-over. He was smiling already.
He brought his lips to America's ear and whispered a breathless "I love you" before lightly tapping his cheek with one hand. Eventually, he made his way to his designated seat as the nations started to fill the room.
...
I'm accepting all forms of reaction, from calm and normal to bloody and trashy, just send me a review if you have some. Thanks a lot for checking it out!