Hello there! It's Mewtwo, with my first ever Spamano fanfiction o^o. I think it's rather nice, and by the way... To my beta reader Birchtree2439, I am NOT naming this "Fuck Off, Antonio!" You at least tried. And I most likely mixed up the numbers in your username but ah well. Anyways, constructive criticism on why you did or did not like this story will be appreciated!
"H - Hey... You can't j - just leave like this, you fucking b - bastard!"
Romano is trembling, gripping his head with his clammy palms, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Spain turns to his former charge, a look of shame crossing his face for the briefest of moments before it went back to what it had been before. Cold, hard, and full of uncaring and harsh emotions. Romano takes the chance to look up at the man that had given him a home, and always make tomato sauce that he could use for pasta, and always hummed him a soft lullaby while he struggled to join the land of dreams. He seemed so different...
"Romano, this is the way it's supposed to be." Spain finally speaks, his voice growing more firm. "We can't have anything to do with eachother. I am a neutral nation, I am not going to get involved in any of your shenanigans with Germany and Japan."
"I didn't choose to join them!" He screams, voice growing louder with his increasing frustration and anger. "Veneciano thought it was a great idea to join those two bastards, and he never gave me any say!" Romano's gaze flutters to the ground as he whispers, "I just wonder why I even exist, sometimes. Everyone calls Veneciano by the full name of our country. They don't call him North Italy or Veneciano, they just call him Italy. Why can't they realize I'm Italy too, and I should have a voice in what happens in my country?!"
Spain's harsh facade crumbles as he stares at the broken man slouched in front of him. "Oh, Roma... Y - You could stay with me, for the rest of the war. Be neutral, with me! I - I'm sorry about saying I would leave y - you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to... It's just... I don't need anymore wars, Roma. I've battled so many in my lifetime, far too many."
"I know." Romano looks up, a weak smile spreading across his face. "I know. B - but don't think that me staying with you is permanent, tomato bastard!"
Spain chuckles, an amused expression crossing his face as he offers a hand to the weakened Italian. Romano grips him tightly as Spain hauls him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The two began to shuffle towards the distant silhouette of Spain's home, bickering while doing so.
Now, almost seventy years later, Spain watches the exhausted Italian burrow farther under the sheets. He smiles to himself as begins to brush his fingers through Romano's hair. Leaning closer to the snoozing Italian, he presses a gentle kiss to the side of his cheek and mouths 'I love you' onto the smooth, tanned skin. Spain then lays back down, rolling over so that their backs press together, before drifting off with a content smile on his face. Romano then draws his head out from the covers and presses a kiss to Spain's neck, mouthing 'I love you too' in response before huffing amusedly and laying back into the mattress. He then curls up with his nose pressed into Spain's hair, breathes in the scent of tomatoes and sea salt that was Spain, and falls asleep.