Hello peoples~ So this is my second Hetalia fic, and it's another Spamano- not surprising since this is my OTP. Anyway I was inspired by learning about the Spanish conquest of the Americas in history class... I love that class now. :D Enjoy!

Rated T for Romano's potty mouth... of course.

I'm sure most of you already know this but for those who don't Antonio = Spain's human name & Lovino = Romano's human name. For some reason I switched between the names a few times here but it still makes sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters.

And so Spain sent forth waves on conquistadors who brutally but effectively conquered the Aztecs and the Incas, sending the Native Americans populations spiraling down from-

Click. The television was turned off hurriedly and the nation who had been watching the documentary resisted the urge to throw the remote across the room. He didn't need any more shows of violence.

Spain brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. This was why he didn't watch the History Channel. It often brought back memories that he was ashamed of and would much rather forget.

But there were certain days when he simply had to watch it, and today was one of those days. Spain wasn't exactly sure why he did this; was it to punish himself for all the pain he had inflicted? Remind himself of what not to be anymore? Whatever the reason was, Spain always tried to endure watching documentaries about his past cruelty about twice a year or so… He had yet to sit through an entire one without turning off the television.

Although Spain regretted that bloody part of his past, he couldn't deny the fact that it was part of him, and that greedy, blood thirsty, violent behavior had once been part of his nature. In fact, he still retained some of that past aggressiveness, but it had softened over the years due to a very special person.

Romano. Spain couldn't help but sigh the name. He loved the country, no, the man, so very much. His love for the fiery Italian was what had over the years lightened his heart, lifted his mood, and changed his very nature. Without Romano…. Spain shuddered to think what he would be like not only as a nation, but as a person, had Romano not come into his life.

But Romano didn't know any of this.

Well, of course Romano knew about Spain's blood soaked past, and he certainly knew of the Spaniard's love for him (had he not proclaimed it often enough?), but he didn't know that he himself had been what transformed Spain into the loving, affectionate, and all over happy person he was today.

Spain shook his head and heaved a sigh as he stood up. He needed a walk. He grabbed his jacket and walked hurriedly outside, slamming the door shut behind him. He moved briskly for a few minutes, not bothering to slow the pace of his feet or the thoughts swirling around in his head. When he was sure he had been walking for at least half an hour, he slowed down, finally trying to enjoy strolling through the streets of his country. He forced himself to take in the sights around him.

The weather was warm. It had been warm when he traveled to the Americas. The local florist repainted the sign for her shop. It glistens like all the blood had glistened in the sun. The butcher's shop looked crowded today. He was a slaughterer, a murder, a killer. A couple walked out of the bakery, holding hands. He didn't deserve love.

Meanwhile

Lovino's amber eyes shifted between the rough faces in front of him. There were at least five of them, and the Italian knew he didn't stand a chance. He gulped, but mustered up what little courage he had to raise his head up defiantly and meet their gazes.

"What the hell do you bastards want?"

The tallest one - who had muscles like the potato bastard's - smirked. Lovino fought a shudder.

The entire group took a step forward and Lovino instinctively took a step back. He tried not to show his growing fear as the men jeered lewd things in even more disturbing tones. Every sentence made Lovino move another careful step and soon he found himself pressed up against a cold brick wall, stuck with no where else to go.

"B-back the hell up fuckers!"

"Nah, we're good right where we are now…"

This is why I shouldn't visit Spain. the Italian thought frantically. I'm here about to be attacked and most likely molested and the stupid bastard isn't even here to rescue me!

Lovino squeezed his eyes shut as the apparent leader of the group reached out and brought his grimy hand to touch his cheek.

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Spain, you bastard, come rescue me already!

"Oye!"

Lovino nearly sighed in relief at the familiar Spanish voice. He made it just in time. Like he always did when Lovino needed him. But damn, did he look scary as hell when he was pissed off.

"Oye!" Spain repeated, his anger rising as he stomped towards the group. The one who had been touching his precious Romano so inappropriately turned around and shot Spain a dismissive glance.

"Can't you see we're busy here? Go away!"

"Sp- ah, Antonio! What the hell took you so long bastard?" exclaimed Romano.

"Ah, lo siento Lovino. I wasn't aware you were in Spain." His green eyes seemed to melt as they gazed at Romano's face, but slowly began to harden as Spain noticed that his little Italian was still being held. The cold emeralds shifted to the man right in front of them. The man who had tried to touch his precious Romano. Spain was barely conscious of the growl rising in his throat. No one touched his Romano that way. Ever.

"Oye me bien cabrón, porque yo voy a decir esto sola una vez."

The man paled, but thankfully remained silent so that Spain could finish speaking.

"You are going to tell your stupid little pals to let go of that man, and get the fuck out of here before I tear you to pieces." Green eyes flashed, and the sharp emeralds became dangerous venom.

"H-hey man, who do you think you are-"

Spain cut the punk off by slamming him against the side of a building, the man's shirt collar tight in his fists.

"I think I'm the man who's going to beat the shit out of you unless you let my friend go and get your ass out of here."

The man held his hands up defensively. He spoke quickly, fear making him stumble over his words as he called for his partners to release Romano, who gravitated straight to Spain as soon as the bastards got their filthy paws off of him. Spain didn't acknowledge the other nation until he had sent the terrified man off with a final glare and low threat to rip out his throat if he ever touched his Italian friend again.

Spain eyed the group carefully as they scurried away. Once they were gone, he murmured, "Ignorant little wimps. They should be grateful I didn't have my axe or else I would've…."

"S-Spain?"

Spain's head turned to see a slightly startled looking Italian staring at him. Remembering that he had tried not to let Romano see him this aggressive in the past and deciding that he certainly did not want to show that side to the younger nation now, Spain calmed himself down and gave a strained smile. "Are you alright, mi pequeño tomate?" While the smile may have been forced, the familiar pet name just slipped out on its own.

"I-I'm just fine, bastard," the Italian spat. Spain was here and Romano knew he was safe, but his body didn't seem to believe so since it wouldn't stop shaking. Romano grit his teeth and looked away. He was not afraid of the tomato bastard dammit.

Spain stared at his little Italian, fear clutching his heart in its icy grip. That said grip tightened when Romano refused to meet his eyes.

"Romano?"

The younger nation was silent. Spain's chest constricted even more.

"Lovino?"

He flushed but still did not respond. He gazed steadfastly in another direction. Spain reached his hand out to touch the Italian's cheek but Lovino shied away; just like that Antonio felt his heart shatter in his chest.

"I-I see," he whispered, his head slumped down so that he stared at the concrete. He didn't see Lovino's head turn to look at him, and he didn't see the younger nation's countenance grow more and more puzzled as he spoke. "I understand now. I suppose I've known all along. I'm going home now, feel free to do whatever you like while you're here. I won't bother you any longer…"

He turned and started to walk off but was held back by a firm grip on his wrist. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Romano stifled a gasp when Spain turned to meet his gaze. He had never seen such a miserable and haunted look in the older man's eyes. It was heartrending to Lovino; he normally loved Spain's vibrant emeralds, now they were just withering leaves.

"I'm talking about us, Romano. You and me. I've pestered you all these years, and oh God, I just, I know you don't love me. I understand that now and frankly… I know I don't deserve love." Spain's eyes watered and his chest was so tight that he felt like he was drowning. "You've made yourself very clear and I deluded myself into thinking that you loved me, too. What's worse is that I deluded myself into thinking I was actually worthy of being loved, especially by you."

Lovino blinked. He felt numb, like each word coming out of the Spaniard's mouth was a hit of Novocain. What in the world was Spain talking about? Romano was the one who didn't deserve love, that's why he never openly returned his declarations of love. Lovino shook his head, this wasn't make sense. It wasn't right.

"You… you… you're not making any sense, you stupid bastard! Who the hell told you that you don't deserve love?"

"Isn't it obvious Romano? I've been such a bad man. I've lied, stolen, killed… Oh God, all the people I've killed…" Spain squeezed his eyes shut, feeling ashamed and dirty. Behind his closed lids all he saw was blood. "After all that I've done, I don't deserve to have my love returned. It was foolish of me to think it possible."

Lovino opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Despite all my sins, I still love you, Romano," Spain announced with a bitter laugh. "Es un milagro that I'm even capable of love."

Lovino's heart throbbed painfully in chest. He needed to speak up, say something, anything to get Spain to stop this nonsense.

"I've tried hard to be good ever since my days of brutality and conquest, I even tried not to show you that side of me… but can I ever be pardoned? I don't think I can, a-"

Smack!

Both shocked amber eyes and wide green eyes stared at Lovino's shaking hand. Spain's cheek stung yet he did nothing but stare. Lovino, on the other hand, gulped and clenched his hands into fists. A sad, twisted anger gave him the courage to speak.

"Dammit Antonio, do you think I'm that stupid? I already know about your past, and you know what? I accepted it. I accepted that dark part of you a long fucking time ago. And you know what else, you're not the only bastard who's sinned okay? Move on, dammit!"

"But-"

"No! Listen to me for once, damn! Everyone deserves love; whether they actually get it or not is a different story. As for me… Dammit Spain, I thought you knew me better than that."

Confusion and hope began to replace the melancholy in the taller nation's eyes. "What do you mean by that Lovino?"

Lovino rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do you honestly think I would let just any stupid bastard call me ridiculous pet names and hug me all the fucking time? Really bastard, are you that stupid? I may not be all that forthcoming with my feelings but damn!"

Spain grinned but the smile disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. "That doesn't take away that I'm a bad person-"

Lovino shook his head fervently and cut off the other country once more. "No. If you were a bad person, I mean bad down to your core, you wouldn't have tried to do good at all or be nice. You wouldn't be able to love. The way I see it is this: you were a bastard then and you're a bastard now, but now you're a different kind of bastard. The one you are now is way too freaking peppy and annoying outgoing and sweet and affectionate and loves me, dammit. And that is the tomato bastard I've grown to love too, by accepting the fucked up bastard he used to be."

Spain laughed despite himself. As crazy as it may seem, that was the most touching thing Romano had ever said to him. Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around the younger man and grinned at him. Then he reached down and their lips met for the briefest of moments. It was all either of them needed to reassure themselves, but it didn't hurt to hear the words either.

"I love you so much, Lovi."

"…I love you too, tomato bastard."

So what did you guys think? I tried to make this one a bit more angsty, more intense emotions but I'm not sure if I pulled it off. And the translation for Spain's threat to the thug is roughly "Listen up asshole because I'm only going to say this once." It's my own Spanish so I may have made a mistake. If I did please let me know.

Please leave any comments, advice, etc. in a review~!