I do not own hetalia nor it's characters in any way. Hope you guys enjoy this. -Rated M for future chapters. Warning for Spamano and Gerita. Another pairings may or not appear. If you do not like homo-erotic themed literature, please do not read.
The older Vargas brother entered the house with a bang, and quite literally. He did not even bother to call out for his brother, the latter probably was at the potato bastard's' place anyway, he was Always there those days. Lovino –for that was his name- could not bring himself to believe how his brother, Feliciano, could make such a fool of himself for that German; following him around like a puppy, hungry for any kind of attention the man was willing to give him.
The living room was left behind as Lovino stomped his way up to his and Feliciano's shared room, which was not surprisingly empty. The bedsheets were perfect and pillows perfectly arranged over the bed. By the looks of it, Feliciano hadn't slept there too.
'As I fucking expected.' Lovino muttered to himself, throwing the backpack he carried near the door. He sighed and threw himself over the mattress without even turning the lights on. The storm raging outside made the lightening enough illumination for his last moments of consciousness that night. He, for a reason unknown yet to himself, recalled the days he had clung to Spain, scared of the thunders. The Spaniard would sing him a lullaby and hold him tight again his chest until he fell asleep. Taking a deep breath and holding the cold pillow nearby against his chest, Lovino felt lonely. Cold and lonely.
Morning came with a sun so bright it was the complete opposite of what the previous night had been. Feliciano got back with it, and looking as bright and happy as the big yellow star. The smaller Italian brother hardly carried anything along when he got back from Germany's house, it was slowly becoming a habit, nearly unconscious. This time, though, he had brought the German, himself.
' Frattelo~? Ve~ are you home?' He shouted, getting inside and going straight for the kitchen for a tall glass of cold water Ludwig trailed behind, closing the door and wondering to himself about how and why Feliciano managed to be even louder than usual when talking to his brother. Only not louder than when…Well, it was no use thinking about that, not on Feliciano's home.
'Veneziano… Fucking idiot…'Lovino snarled, half-awake, as Feliciano entered their bedroom and began shaking him. The half-drank glass of water laying over the nightstand –Lovino had asked him not to leave any glasses there, it stained easy. 'Leave the fuck alooone!'
'But I'm home! You called yesterday, right?' The younger Italian smiled sitting on the bed. Lovino gave out a sigh, giving up his sleep and sat up too, rubbing his eyes. 'It seemed serious… Did you and brother Spain have another fight?'
'Fuck Antonio! I called because it's been too fucking long you've been locked up at that German's bedroom.' He made sure to emphasise the word "bedroom". If Feliciano thought he was fooling someone about not seeing the representative of Germany on that way, he was very, very wrong.
'Ve~Don't say it like it's a bad thing!' Feliciano teased, laughing amiably. He was used to his brother's mood, especially when he had just awaken….and when it was about his relationship with Ludwig.
'That fucking potato bastard… If he EVER hurts an inch of your body…' Lovino gritted his teeth. He didn't trust Germany, he didn't trust people in general, really. Not even himself, sometimes. Especially himself actually.
'Luddy wouldn't hurt me! Just ask him, he's at the li—'
'Ahh! You brought him here?!' The older cut Feliciano off, incredulous. Oh, that was just perfect.
'Of course I did! He's…'
'I know how you feel towards him, Feliciano, but let's be fucking serious!' Lovino could see the smile fading on his brother's face, as the words spilled out of his lips. He hated doing that. He hated that he was the one to make Veneziano cry, he as his older brother after all, he was supposed to make him happy. Still, that he was concerned for Feliciano's happiness. 'He's a fucking piece of cold marble! They all are! Remember what Germania did to Nonno!'
'Luddy's not like that…' The smaller looked down, playing with his fingers. He loved Germany and that had always been written on his face. All but Ludwig could notice, this last one being too thick or merely ignoring the information –Or, according to Romano, taking advantage of it. 'He may be strict and scary and very cold… But sometimes he's sweet and caring and really takes care of me!'
' I am NOT having this argument with you again, frattelo. Ti amo and that will never change, but per favore open your eyes and see what you've got yourself into! That man's no good for you!'
'Oh, and you can tell who's good for me now? Who told you that, your Mafia friends?' Feliciano instantly regretted having said that, shutting his eyes and looking down. 'Frattelo, sorry, I didn't meant to…'
That did it. Lovino got up the bed without a word and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Feliciano always brought that up; he hated the fact that Lovino had relations with those risky people. The smaller took a deep breath and fought the tears running down his cheeks as Lovino did the same into the bathroom. They both hated fighting, there was screaming at the beginning but in the end they both cried. They were one country alone and every time something, as small as argument like that happened, it hurt them inside. Lovino hated it the most, fearing his brother would decide he was better off alone or with Germany anyway. That such a thing would made them be separated again, like when they were children.
After Feliciano gave up on begging him to open the door, Lovino left the house. He did not want to see Feliciano awkwardly trying to get closer to the German standing like a tree on their living room. Thus, he got himself a bicycle and made his way to the only place he, even if unconsciously, always went to clear up his mind. Antonio's house.
The Spaniard did not need to open the door for him, Lovino had the key already, so he simply got in and walked soundlessly into the main room. There he found a recently awakened Spain sipping a black coffee by the window. The tanned man turned his semi-nude body to the other, surprised and happy at the same time. The bright smile appeared to be something people see on those happy family's commercial's on the telly. Though his perfectly fit body belonged on the perfume ones…
'Lovi… You're back so early.' He said, on his husky morning voice. The thin white fabric of the sleeping pants –Only clothing he wore- moved swiftly along his well-built thighs as he walked towards Romano, that annoyingly handsome smile still in place.
'Frattelo brought that fucking potato bastard home, I can't stand that.' The Italian justified. 'Not like I wanted to see you or anything.' He felt his cheeks burning at the very sight of that walking piece of art and turned his face away, arms crossed, faking disinterest.
Spain chuckled, moving to lay a coffee-tasting kiss on the other's cheek. His strong arms wrapped around Lovino's waist, who complained but easily gave in, hugging back. "It's because I'm upset…" the Italian forced himself to believe, finally having recognised the frenetic rhythm his heart had acquired since he got into that house, his safe haven. Shyly, he rested his head on the Antonio's neck. A hand came up to meet the back of his hair, stroking it slow and gently.
'It rained yesterday… Quite a lot. Lo siento, I wasn't there to hug and hold you, right?' Romano forced his way out of the embrace, completely reddened and pushing his host away from himself.
'I don't need you to fucking hug me…' He lied. ' You're too full of yourself.'
The Spaniard laughed and shrugged. 'That might be true, my little tomato~! But you love it' He insisted, caressing a warm ruddy cheek for just enough time before Lovino could think of reacting against it.
Lovino sighed, feeling like what most people call a hypocrite. Secretly he was telling himself what he had just told Feliciano. That what he wanted was impossible. 'He would never love you back, idiot.'. That loving the very same bastard throughout years, centuries even… That was crazy. Antonio was a flirt, but as thick as a Yao's wall when it came to noticing someone was hitting on him, set aside being in love. It was hopeless.
The same way Feliciano always went after Ludwig, Lovino would constantly let himself get lost in between Antonio's arms, invading his home and spending days there, weeks sometimes. Breathing the sweet, yet spicy, scent eternally attached to that caramel skin.
'My little tomato… ' The Spaniard murmured, kissing the top of the other's head. ' You're the most precious treasure in my life.'
'Who says I'm yours?' He said half-heartedly, yet scared. If only Antonio knew how it hurt him every time that kind of phrase escaped those perfect Spaniard lips. It didn't hurt him as a fight would, it hurt him with hope. A hope that wasn't his to have.
'I say!' Antonio exclaimed, sipping the last of his coffee and leaving the cup over the nightstand, which had plenty of round stains on it already. He sat on the bed again, patting the spot next to him. By the looks of Lovino's hair, he was barely awake as well. 'Join me?'
