Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters.

Helloooo~

Yay! So this is the first story I have written that has withstood the plague of writer's block and powered through multiple distractions. I don't know how well I write, but I hope you like it! (:

Please let me know how the first and future chapters are! I have the whole story finished, so I'll be updating pretty frequently after I finish editing and checking for mistakes. Also, the ratings will get higher later.

Anyway, please enjoy the beauty and wonderfulness that is Spamano~

Thanks for reading! (:

Chapter 1: Whatever You Do, Don't Make Eye Contact

The first thing he noticed about him was his eyes.
It was those grassy green orbs that seemed to illuminate the dull surroundings of the train cart. A black backpack was casually slung over his left shoulder and a red plaid shirt complimented his unruly golden brown locks. Hands tucked in his jean pockets, the boy walked through the cart and took a seat near the back due to the abundance of tired people coming back from their day jobs.
Romano sat there across from him, face covered by the book in his hands and eyes silently observing his actions.
The second thing he noticed put a scowl on the Italian's face: the bastard had the most brilliant—no, annoying—smile he had ever seen.
He grinned rather stupidly at an elderly woman, whom he gave up his seat for. She was fooled by his charms, however, as Romano watched her chat animatedly with the boy. The Spanish man hung onto the strap above him and leaned down to listen to her quiet voice and answer politely. Something she said had him throwing his head back in sweet laughter, those same brown curls revealing the youthful and handsome features of his face.
Romano groaned. Why couldn't he just focus on his book? He hadn't read it yet, but his younger brother had coaxed him into taking it with him. But now this bastard was distracting him from reading. The Italian tried to read the first sentence, but another laugh captured his attention again and his heart did little flip that he found totally unnecessary.
After trying to ignore them and curious about the absence of laughter, he looked up again and saw that the boy was no longer talking with the woman and was instead staring at the window on his side. Romano sighed in relief. Finally that annoying guy had shut up.
It was only when he looked in the glass window that the man was staring at that he froze. The image was a mirror of themselves, with a skinny boy with auburn hair and a strange curl that was Romano sitting in one of the seats across the aisle holding a blue book, and the Spaniard standing with his gaze locked on the Romano in the reflection. Green eyes met fiery brown ones, causing Romano to stiffen and heat wash over his face. Dammit, did he really look that red?
Romano heard a chuckled and broke eye contact to glare at the back of the man's head. Before the boy could turn around and meet his gaze once again, Romano hid behind his book and forced his red face to cool.
No, no, no, no. He was not going to look up. This wasn't some game. Who stares at people like that and laughs at them? That creepy bastard could go jump off a bridge for all he cared.
A voice came over the intercom, announcing the next stop. Romano ignored it since he still had one more stop to go, but was vaguely aware of the shift of people as they stood and gravitated towards the sliding doors. He watched out of the corner of his eye as most of the adults existed the openings like eager rats scurrying out of the drains.
It was after the train was half empty that he noticed the Spaniard had disappeared as well. A sense of disappointment filled him but he ignored it. He didn't even know the guy. And he was sure he had snickered at him—for no apparent reason! Romano sighed and relaxed knowing he could finally focus on the words in front of him.
Yet not a moment later, another blush spread over his face as he thrust the book into his bag and groaned. How embarrassing. He had been holding the novel upside down the whole time—and the bastard had seen him do it. Just peachy.
Good thing he never had to see that loser again.
Right?

~x~

Apparently luck was not on his side.
Because he was there, again.
Romano went to a graduate college a couple miles away from his home after he attended a local university and applied for further education in the arts. He constantly took the train—morning and evening—and faced the thirty minute metro ride for most of the week. Although he wished to go to same school as his brother as they had done before, Feliciano had immediately rejected him, knowing that his older brother's calling was for art instead of cooking. They had, however, moved into an apartment that was about halfway in between each of their colleges. So he had started taking the metro a few weeks ago, and had never seen anyone twice except for now.
Romano tried to hide his face behind a huge sketchbook that he was holding and succeeded, for the boy didn't seem to notice him and took a seat a couple rows down.
This time, Romano sat in a two-seater facing towards the back of the train which would place him in a fairly visible place. Groaning, he peeked out from his board and saw the boy listening to music, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot to the unknown beat.

Feeling it was safe enough, the Italian angled the board in front of himself and began aimlessly sketching anything that came to mind. The worn seats of the cart—the infinite number of houses that the train passed by—the beautiful blue sky adorned with clouds—the woman with untidy hair and two children she tried to quiet with a finger to her lips—the stained carpet which was wet with god-knows-what—the old man who had lost most of his hair—the stupidly handsome boy looking in his direction—the scratched—wait what?
Romano's eyes shifted unconsciously and unwillingly back to those damn mesmerizing eyes that twinkled with something his couldn't identify.
The boy held his gaze and smiled at him. Romano scrunched his nose up and huffed, crossing his arms and turning towards the window. Stupid bastard, thinking he could fool him. Not a chance!

Focusing back on his blank sheet of paper, the Italian was shocked to see that he had in fact drawn something.
It was the mysterious boy that had appeared on his paper, who was shown staring out the window with a thoughtful expression on his face and earphones in his ears. Red covered his face as Romano grumbled and threaded a hand through his tangled hair. He had to stop blushing—It was getting annoying.
He hadn't even heard the stop announcement before the boy—who was invading his thoughts against his will—stood up and headed towards the doors out into the night.
Romano watched him go, and stared at him as the train left the station. And strangely enough as the window view slid by, the Spaniard had looked back in Romano's direction.

With that thought, a small smile spread across his usually never happy face that he had trouble forcing down.

~x~

"Fratello? Did something happen?" Romano looked up at his brother, who looked very similar to him except with a curl on the left side of his head. He wore a green frilly apron and held a pan over the stove. The older Italian wanted to mention that he looked stupid in that get-up, but was thrown off by his question.
"Hm? What do you mean?" Feliciano stirred the spaghetti and turned off the fire. He tapped his finger tip on his chin and looked up in a thoughtful manner.
"You just seem... Happier than usual? And less mean?"
Romano clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.
"Maybe you're just being less stupid and I'm the same as always."
Laughing, his brother grabbed the tongs and placed a glob of spaghetti with tomato sauce on the plates in front of them.
"If you say so, fratello. If you want to talk, please come to me. Or Ludwig! He's very good at listening!"
The older Italian groaned and took a mouthful of the delectable pasta. No wonder his brother was a chef—his pasta could not be beat.
"Like I'll ever tell the potato bastard any of my problems." Feliciano sat down with him and watched his brother happily consume his creation.
"Good, ve~?" He smiled.
Romano rolled his eyes while spaghetti sat in his mouth, making his cheeks big. He nodded and swallowed.
"You're not totally horrible."
The younger boy grinned and hugged him. "Yay!"
"Ah, idiota! Get off of me!"
As Feliciano removed himself, Romano dusted invisible dirt off his shoulder and went back to finishing his dinner.
Feli started to eat his own, only to pause and look up at his brother with innocent eyes.
"So who's the boy you keep drawing in your book?"
Romano choked on the pasta.

~x~

That was the last time he left his stuff lying around. Leave it to Feli to throw things out of proportions. He had accused him of having a crush on the guy and demanded to know who he was! Romano most certainly did not like the annoying bastard, nor did he know anything about him, besides the fact that he was stupid and idiot-like and handsome and funny and kind—
Abruptly stopping himself, Romano shook off those thoughts. That was getting dangerous.
It was around lunch time at the college and the brunette was starving. He usually brought a sandwich from home, but he had overslept and had to take the late train. That reminded him—he needed to buy a new alarm clock.
Sighing, Romano decided he needed some caffeinated coffee and headed for the new cafe that had just opened up down the street. He inspected if he had enough money to cover what he wanted, and then headed over to the cafe doors.
The bell on the door chimed he walked in, and he instantly heard a greeting from an employee cleaning a table. It was a cozy little place with only couches and booths and round tables in front of them. The smell of coffee flooded his senses and made his mouth water. Yep, he made the right choice.

He walked up to the cashier and placed the money on the counter.
"I'll have an espresso and a turkey sandwich."
The cashier, who had been leaning down, asked him to wait a moment. He stood there, tapping his foot, and stared at the cashier's messy brown hair and hand holding him up. A strong, manly hand…

Romano slowly stopped tapping, realizing he recognized those features. He had drawn them several times after all. Before he could have a chance to run out the door, the boy rose up and faced him with a smile.
"Sorry for the wait, espresso and a turkey sandwich coming..." The Spaniard trailed off and stared back with his surprised green eyes. Dammit, Romano, they aren't that enchanting!
"Uh... Yeah." Romano said awkwardly and forced himself looked away.
He slid the money across the granite surface and stared at his feet as he felt the other's piercing gaze on him.
"Sure thing." The boy recovered as if nothing had happened and flashed his signature smile. He grabbed a cup and filled it with steaming coffee and handed it to Romano.
"Here," the Spaniard grabbed the sandwich from the refrigerator and gave it to him, "And this."
Romano nodded and waited for him to ring him up. Maybe he hadn't recognized him? He wasn't anything special to look at and he wasn't memorable like his brother. He was the moody one who every one left alone. He wanted it that way, granted, but he also knew he was good at lying to himself.
The Italian was pulled out of his self-loathing mind rant by the sound of change scratching across the counter.
Romano looked up at the boy confused, for the amount he gave back was the same he had offered him.
"I think you made a mist—" Shaking his hands in front of him, he boy cut him off.
"It's on me."
The boy smiled idiotically, but at the same time beautifully, which made Romano's heart constrict. Recovering rather slowly, Romano scowled at him.
"Don't be stupid. Take the money."
Closing the register, the Spaniard shook his head.
"Already done."
Romano looked at him incredulously and growled. Leaning over the counter and pulling the boy's shirt forward, the Italian gave him his best glare.
"Look bastard, I'm not some charity case. I don't need your help and I certainly don't need your money."
The Spaniard looked surprised by his attitude, but just as quickly calmed down and let out a chuckle.
"No, certainly not. I wanted to buy it for you."
At a loss, Romano did not deter his glare as he let the boy go and shoved the money into the tip jar before running out the door.
On a bench on campus, the Italian munched angrily on his sandwich and downed his coffee faster than he wished, but still couldn't get that stupid bastard's grin out of his head. Who did he think he was?
Romano got up and shoved the plastic in the trash can before stalking off. He just hoped he didn't see him on the train later.

~x~

Just to be safe, Romano would board the train after the one he usually took. A sense of guilt washed over him, but for what reason he could not comprehend. They weren't even friends. There was no reason to feel this way.

He stood there in the underground area watching as people passed by in a rush and the trains whiz pass him like bullets. When the cart pulled up, he found this one to be visibly less full, since it was after six.
He took a free seat closest to the window and leaned his head on it. His eyes fluttered shut, weighed down by tiredness, and let himself relax for a moment. He let himself mull over the day's events and his current project he needed to turn in by Friday, and, soon enough, he was stuck in the web of his dreams and thoughts.
Pulled from his dreamland, Romano felt a tug on his shoulder and opened his eyes to meet glowing green orbs that he knew all too well. For a moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating and rubbed the sleepiness from them. When the image didn't disappear, he concluded that the person in front of him was actually there.

The man smiled and took the seat next to him. "Hola~"

Romano stared at him and groaned. This guy was persistently trying to get on his nerves, wasn't he? Why couldn't he just go away or leave him alone like everyone else did?

"Oh, it's you, bastard," he rubbed his head and looked around, "how long have I been out?"

The Spaniard hummed and checked his watch. "Hm, about thirty minutes?"

Romano sighed in relief as he saw familiar buildings pass by. His stop was coming up next. Thank god he had woken him up before his stop came. It would have been a hassle getting back. Come to think of it…

Alarmed with realization, the boy sat up and turned to the Spanish man.

"Wait, isn't your stop before mine? Why didn't you get off? Wait, why are you even on this train?" The questions came flooding out before Romano could stop them.

After jumping in surprise, the boy rubbed the back of his neck.

"I had the late shift at the coffee shop, so I didn't make it to the usual cart in time. But I was surprised to see you on here! Why were you late?"

Romano blushed and turned away to hide his face.

"B-bastard. That's none of your business. And you didn't answer my question."

The brunette laughed again whole-heartily and laid his arm over the back of the seat. He ran his other hand through his hair and looked at Romano.

"If you must know, I didn't want to wake you up because you had such a peaceful expression on your face~ It was too good to pass up, so here I am. You should smile more!"

What…what sort of reason was that? He didn't want to smile. That was the point! Flushing, the Italian scowled and crossed his arms.

"That's creepy, asshole. Didn't your mother teach not to watch others when they sleep?" He smirked, proud of his on-the-spot comeback.

The boy's usual stupid grin held a hint of pain. "She did a long time ago."

Romano's smirk was replaced with a frown as he searched for the right thing to say. Had he hurt his feelings? He found the bastard annoying, but he didn't mean to actual cause him any discomfort.

"Thanks," He mumbled finally.

The Spaniard, who had been lost in thought, looked up.

"Que?"

"You know… for waking me up. Feliciano would kill me if I wasn't home before nine," Romano elaborated and stared down at his lap, absentmindedly scratching the cotton fabric on his bag.

The boy smiled largely and shifted closer to Romano.

"Ah, really it wasn't a problem!" He began happily before furrowing his brows uncharacteristically. "Wait, who…who is Feliciano?"

Romano's usual snippy remark died down in his throat as he met his green eyes once again, but this time it was filled with an inkling of another color… like black or red? He cocked his head, confused by the strain in the usual happy-go-lucky boy's voice.

"My younger brother," he said finally, "He worries too much about me."

Visibly relaxing, the man graced him with his happy grin once again.

"I wish I had a sibling! I'm an only child. It must be fun."

Romano scoffed. "You think taking care of a complete idiot is fun? My brother couldn't tie his shoelaces until he was twelve, and I had to re-teach him math because he 'didn't get it' and wanted to make pasta instead. Then in high school, I had to watch him write his essays because he always got off topic and ran away when he could…"

With a content smile on his face, the boy listened to the Italian rant and chuckled.

"It sounds like you really care about him. You're a great big brother." Romano trailed off and stared at the Spaniard next to him.

Romano had always considered been "second-best" to his younger brother. Everyone loved him more, cared about him more, and wanted to be with him more. Feliciano never had trouble making new friends, or starting up a conversation with a stranger. No one had ever appreciated the older boy's efforts at being the "rock" in Feliciano's life, nor spared him a second look as they gravitated to the cheerful younger brother. So it was a shock for Romano to hear someone compliment him for the first time, even if it was from the annoyingly attractive bastard…whose name he didn't even know.

"Hey…What's your name?" He spoke in a trance. The boy smiled.

"Antonio. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. What about you?" Romano sounded it out in his head. Antonio. Antonio. For some reason, it just felt right on the tip of his tongue.

"Romano Vargas." He responded, bringing his eyes up to meet the Spaniard's.

Time seemed to stop. It felt like just the two of them where nothing else existed and nothing else mattered. If Romano had his way, he wouldn't mind staying like this forever.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end. The train announce the name of his stop, and slowly pulled into the station.

"It's my stop." Romano said nonchalantly, breaking eye contact and standing up.

Antonio nodded and stepped out of the way for Romano to come out. Exiting the doors, they both walked to the center of the platform. The Spaniard turned to the Italian.

"This is where we part."

Romano hummed in agreement, yet stood there with no desire to leave, as if he was waiting for something. Before Antonio opened his mouth to speak, the boy turned around and headed off.

"Ciao, bastard." He waved without looking back.

Antonio waved and called after him. "Bye, Romano~! See you tomorrow!"

Romano looked back with a slight blush on his cheeks which the Spaniard could clearly see, and kept walking.

"G-go to hell, i-idiot!" He stuttered and ran out of sight.

The brunette chuckled as he stepped onto the other cart and went on his way.

Glancing back, Romano couldn't help but have thoughts he had long since forbidden himself. Why did this bastard have this effect on him? It's not like he actually…liked…him…no, no, no, never!

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the night, whispering "no's" and "never's" all the way home.