Another incompleted spamano fic! yes sirree, i am horrible at this! But this one will only be for 2 parts i think~ um, warning, strong language for the first part, drinking, human names used, boys love, etc. you've been warned! um, review? thank you! rated m for the second part.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, ownership goes to himaruya sensei

part 1:

It was an extremely cold night as Romano headed home from work, his breaths coming out in small white clouds. Work, work, work, it was all that damn bastard cares about! Couldn't he spare a little time out of work to meet up with him? Yeah, he didn't show it that much to the Spaniard, but he wouldn't mind it if the man would be less oblivious to things sometimes. How does he even put up with him? He wonders . He better be home right now waiting for me after canceling our lunch date, he thought.
He slammed the door open, taking off his coat and shoes to put away. "Oi! I'm home!" he shouted out into a dark, empty house. He waited...nothing. He lets out a low growl as he trudges to the kitchen, flipping the switches on to reveal a medium size mahogany kitchen table with a note and some food on it. He pulled out a chair to sit down and read the note. After a few minutes, he crumpled up the paper into a ball and tosses it at the trashcan with agitation. It's been the second week since the Spanish bastard decided sleeping at his office was way better than sleeping at home with Romano.
He wasn't in the best of mood to have this considering his boss decided to double his shift, his lunch date with his so call boyfriend was canceled, and now his boyfriend was nowhere in sight. None of it was going right, he didn't show it, but he was excited about today and tomorrow. It was a special day for both of them but it didn't seem to matter much to the Spaniard. "Why do I even bother?" he grumbled under his breath as he went to reheat up the food. Did the idiot even bother to remember what tomorrow was? Or was he too work consumed to even notice the signs romano was trying to send him these pass few days whenever they got the chance to see each other? He had to admit though, seeing the other man work himself to death like that worried him. They had debts and bills to pay off but they both made enough monthly to survive.
That's it, he wasn't going to mope around about it. He went to the cupboard where they kept all the wine and pulled out a nice Castello di Monastero Chianti Superiore, popping the cork open quickly and pouring it out onto a wine glass. Drink your sadness away, yes, sounds like a wonderful idea right now. He managed to eat most of the food with one or two glass but that wasn't going to do it for him. He discarded the glass on the sink and started to drink it from the bottle, the crimson liquid sloshing in its container as he downs it senselessly. He could hold his liquor, of course he can!
God was he proven wrong on that fact. Everything was a blur and the room wouldn't stop spinning for a sec even if he begged it to.
"what the -hic- fuck?" he asked as he tries to find his way to his bedroom.
"Spaaain, spain, stop -hic- the floor from moving!" he slurred, nothing making much sense anymore, "I can't get -hic- to my room -hic- like this!" To his luck, nobody was there to help him and so he had to drag his drunk ass self to bed himself, almost slipping on the stairs several times before catching himself.
Finally, he was able to reach his bedroom, by that time, the bottle was already finished and he fell right onto the bed, feeling dizzy and light-headed. "Urgh...why isn't he -hic- here when I need him?" he asked to nobody in particular, trying to cover the small trail of tears that were starting to form on his cheeks.
"stupid, stupid idiot," he muttered to himself, curling up into a ball and rocking himself to sleep.
By the next morning, he was shaken awake by a warm hand on his shoulder, "Roma, wake up Roma." The voice was too loud, he didn't like it, why the hell is everything so much more unbearable then it was before? Then the memories came back to him, right, he tried to forget his day by getting wasted on wine. urgh, he wasn't ever going to do it again. "Roma," the voice continued, very loudly if he may add.
"Shut up," he murmured into his pillows, trying to cover his ears with them.
"tsk, tsk, Roma drank more then he should didn't he? I made your favorite for breakfast and I have some aspirin and water if you like," the man whispered softly into his ear. Yeah, right, he ditches him the whole day yesterday and now he was trying to butter him up again? In his dreams is he going to be forgiven.
"piss off bastard," his muffled groan answered. He could hear the other let out a long sigh, "Are you mad about yesterday? Lo siento querido, but my boss has given me so much paperwork that I couldn't make it on time. Ah, I know! How about I bring breakfast to you si?" he asked cheerfully. It's going to take more then that Romano thought. he rolled over, covering most of his face with the blanket as he glared back at the other.
"don't give me your lame excuses," he grunted.
"But i'm not, you have to believe me roma, i would never do that to you willingly," antonio pleaded to the other, trying to get him to look him in the eyes.
"Shut up would you? you're being too fucking loud," he snapped back, trying to not look into the brilliant emerald green puppy eyes. Hell would he last that long looking into it.
"you...you won't forgive me?" the spaniard ask with a look of dismal on his face. he really was being sincere and he just wish he didn't leave romano alone like that yesterday. But romano, being the stubborn person that he is and with that hangover of his, wasn't in the mood to forgive yet...unless...
"What do you want me to do hm mi amor?" antonio asked, sitting down on the bedside and stroking the other's bang from his face, a little smile on his face. Romano thought about it, what did he want the spaniard to do? He could ask him for that, since they haven't done it for a long time...but, that bastard would do anything wouldn't he?
He mumbled something into the blanket. "Que? what was that?" antonio inquired.
"I said fuck me..." he said louder, but it seems not loud enough for the spaniard to hear.
"You'll have to speak louder roma."
"I said fuck me!" he shouted at the other, his face suddenly turning to a light shade of red and he ducks under the covers.
The spanish man stared at the mound that was romano in awe. Did his romanito just say...make love to him? Does this mean that he's been forgiven? He has to have right? or else he wouldn't let him touch him! He stroke the other's head, pulling off the cover to pull the other onto his lap, humming into his ear softly.