Disclaimer (since I need to get it out of the way): I do not own Hetalia or anything related to the Hetalia universe. If I did, Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F. Jones would've actually done half the things they seem to do in all the doujinshis and fanfics. Enjoy!

Drowning in Green

"Have you seen my love, mi amigo? His name is oh-so-fine—my Lovino

He makes my heart beat"—

Oh crap.

Oh freaking crap.

That bastard was singing about him.

He was singing about being in love with him.

Oh holy mother of God crap.

Red slowly began creeping up from Lovino's face, completely embracing his face from chin to the roots of his hair to the tips of his ears—even his freaking nose was going red. He was rooted to the ground, and even when Ivan bumped into Alfred bumped into Matthew bumped into Mei bumped into Kiku bumped into Ludwig bumped into Feliciano bumped into him, he didn't move. Correction: He couldn't move.

No. All he could think about was the first time he ever met Antonio Fernandez Carriedo...

"Lovino, go give this to that man outside." Saying so, Lovino's grandfather handed Lovino a sandwich wrapped in foil. Lovino grimaced. That sandwich was heavy. Most likely it's loaded with stuff, Lovino thought. Man oh man, I really wish grandpa made stuff like this for us.

Promptly forgetting his own heavily loaded breakfast, Lovino walked to the door of his Grandpa's shop. His Granpa owned and ran an antiques' shop, and during their holidays, Lovino and his younger brother Feliciano Vargas got to spend their days helping their Grandpa run his shop. In turn, Grandpa spent his lunch hours with them in the large park right across the street (where they mostly napped until long after lunch hours).

Right then, Feliciano was somewhere in the back, probably playing some instrument and getting praised by his Grandpa. He had been, probably fifteen minutes ago, before Grandpa went into the kitchenette to prepare the sandwich for the man playing the guitar outside their shop.

Lovino had been sitting at the main desk, next to the large shop window overlooking the park. The man was playing his guitar right below the window, and the glass was put in such a way that no matter how hard Lovino pressed his nose to the glass, he wasn't able to see the man. He played beautifully, and sometimes sang, too, in a rich, deep voice that seemed to mesmerize Lovino into forgetting all his troubles related to his artistically endowed brother and his Grandpa being smitten by said brother.

Lovino sighed at the thought. It wasn't that Lovino couldn't do it himself—he knew, somewhere deep within, he was as good as his brother. It was just that...

Lovino pushed the thought away as he rose on his tiptoes to open the door.

His Grandpa had a deal with the guitar man—he would play outside Grandpa's shop, thereby drawing customers in. In return, Grandpa would give him lunch and let him into the shop when he himself left for the park with his grandsons.

Lovino had never seen the man—he and Feli always seemed to run off before the man returned from the next shop. He always went to the library next door to borrow a book, and he probably spent his time reading as the hottest hours of the day passed him by. And before Feli and Lovino could be back, he'd go back to the library, either to return to book or to chat with the cute librarian.

Lovino stepped outside, turned around, and found himself staring into green, green eyes.

Lovino blinked. Those green, bright eyes seemed to bore into him, draw out his deepest secrets. Those eyes seemed to read—

"Oye, niño! You're the abuelo's grandkid, si?"

Lovino felt heat creeping into his face, and he had no idea why. This man's voice was so deep, so thick—it was entangling his mind into a web of emotions Lovino couldn't comprehend, emotions with such heat and such power that he had never felt. "I don't even understand half of what you say," he blurted out, and blushed deeply, embarrassed to the roots of his burgundy-brown hair.

The man laughed. Something jolted in his chest—Lovino guessed it to be his heart—but Lovino didn't like the feeling very much. "Lo siento, lo—Sorry, sorry. You're that old man's grandkid, yes?"

Lovino nodded quickly.

"What's your name?"

"Lovino Vargas."

The man reached out, his fingers burying into the sides of his head, his thumb caressing Lovino's high cheekbone. "Lovino...what a beautiful name you have." The man raised his eyes to Lovino's, and Lovino watched as the glazed, melting look in his eyes vanished and they were yet again filled with what Lovino presumed to be his usual cheeriness. "My name, amigo, is not so beautiful. I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

"T-That's a r-really cool name!"

Antonio grinned. "You think so? If you do, then so it is."

"H-Here!" Lovino blurted, handing him the sandwich. "My grandpa made it." He felt like kicking his worthless behind as soon as he said that. Of course his grandpa had made it! Who else would've?

Antonio quickly unwrapped the foil from the top, and took in a deep, deep breath. "This smells heavenly," he murmured, and turned to Lovino.

"I-I have to go!" he quickly said.

"Aw, niño! Stay with me and share this sandwich. It's too big for just one man—Let us dos hombres share it. What do you say?"

Lovino sat down on the large blanket next to him. "This d-doesn't mean a-anything!" he yelled. Antonio blinked, then grinned. "Of course it doesn't, amigo. We're just two men sharing a large sandwich."

Antonio felt Lovino settle into his side, and had to refrain from cooing. What a cute little boy!

As Lovino ate, his eyes fell on the guitar Antonio had set down. Antonio realized that the boy's attention had shifted, and he soon figured out what it was. "You want to learn how to play?"

Lovino shook his head quickly.

Antonio was good with little kids, and quickly realized that the boy meant something, but said the exact opposite to stay aloof. Whatever his reasons were, Antonio was convinced that the boy wanted to play. "Aw, amigo, let me teach you. I'll just show you how."

Lovino rubbed his grubby hands on his red jacket, and got up.

"Oh, no, you come here." And Antonio sat Lovino right down on his lap.

It was as if a red flashbulb had been turned on in Lovino, and he was glad Antonio couldn't see his red face.

"Okay. So you hold it like this—give me your hand. Si, like this. Give me your other hand, Lovino"—

Lovino tried his hardest to listen. He really did. His hands were trapped in Antonio's big ones, his body was encased within Antonio's arms, and Antonio kept whispering into his ear—Damnit! He was as red as a tomato, and he couldn't stop it, and his heart was beating so fast it was at the risk of breaking into—

"Antonio, I need to go!" Damnit, but Lovino couldn't do this anymore. He slipped through Antonio's grasp, and quickly ran inside.

"Oy, at least tell me if you're coming tomorrow!" With a sigh, Antonio looked back at his sandwich, wondering exactly what it was that he'd done wrong. But before he could feel dejected, he heard a loud string of italian coming from inside the shop, along with a small voice at the commentator's seat.

"Grandpa, Lovino's running around, screaming like a pazzo!"

"Well, what is he saying?"

"I don't know...what does bastardo mean?"

"Lovino, you stop saying that this instant or I'll have a soap to your mouth, voi bambino cattivo!"

He heard some more high pitched screaming, followed by an old man's yell, and the little voice saying, "Grandpa, Grandpa, Lovino fell flat on his face right in the middle of the shop!"

"Quel bambino pazzo...Let him lie there!"

Antonio grinned. He decided he really liked Lovino.

The next few days were the same—Lovino would come outside, carrying the sandwich, and he'd watch Antonio play. He took to sitting on the edge of the large blanket (why the edge Antonio never figured out until much later) and watching Antonio on his guitar. Day by day, he'd come earlier and earlier, and stay up more and more late, until he started carrying two sandwiches everyday—one for Antonio and one for himself.

And one day, as he watched Antonio play, a thought suddenly pinged into his head—

Ti amo.

Followed quickly by—

Holy mother of God.

He was doomed.

"Hey, there's this guy outside on his guitar, and he's singing really amazing songs!"

Everyone in class turned to Kaelin Kirkland, who'd come barging in (like always) and began talking about the guy on his guitar outside. Soon, a crowd formed around her.

"Ve, Lovino, want to see what she's talking about?" Feliciano asked, getting up.

Lovino sighed. "No." Knowing how rude he must've sounded, he quickly added, "You go on, though. Kaelin's your amico, right?"

Feliciano nodded, and Lovino wondered exactly who wasn't his brother's friend. "Okay, I'll go on, then." And Feliciano got swallowed by the crowd.

Lovino turned to his notebook, and began sketching. Unlike his brother, he didn't have too many friends—he spoke to whomever his brother was speaking to, and that was it. Mostly he just drew stuff he saw, and doodled tomatoes on the side of his notebooks. He used to get reprimanded for that, but now, even the teachers didn't care. Let him have his tomatoes, they said.

Kaelin was into lengthy and detailed descriptions, so Lovino decided to draw her mystery man.

"And he has the greenest eyes ever"—

Green eyes. Brown hair. The most amazing voice known to mankind. Without realizing it, Lovino felt his hand flash across the paper, and soon, he saw the one face he'd never thought he'd see.

He got up so quickly that his chair fell back. He caught the attention of Feliciano, and that caught the attention of others. Without caring, Lovino stormed right up to Kaelin and yelled, "Where is this guy?"

"L-Lovino"—

"Tell me where this guy is, damnit!"

"Well, you don't"—

"I'm not talking to you, Ludwig. Talking to her. Where is he?"

"H-He's outside...sitting under the tree opposite the gate"—

Before anyone realized, he was gone.

"Lov"—

"Look, Lovino! Over there!"

All of them ran over to where Peter Kirkland was pointing, and they watched as Lovino ran across the school's front yard.

Lovino, unaware of his audience, made short work of the 80 meter front grounds that separated the main building from the gate. He stood behind the wall, catching his breath, and when he finally could more than wheeze out a few sentences, he straightened and peeked in between the grill of the gate.

It was him.

Lovino quickly darted back to his hiding spot. His heart was pounding, and it wasn't because of all that record-breaking running.

He was here.

Okay, quick, before you lose your confidence. And the devil inside him pushed him forward, out of the gate and onto the pavement. He watched as Antonio thanked the lady who gave him some coins for the song, and said something that made her laugh and blush at the same time.

A bad, bleak taste filled his mouth, and his heart began beating oddly. The señoras still love him, and he obviously l-l-l—

"Lovino!"

His head shot up, and his scowl vanished.

"Yes, you! Dios mio, but it's so good to see you, mi amigo!"

Lovino looked down and found his index finger pointing at himself. With a scowl, he quickly dropped his hand.

Antonio didn't even bid the fair maiden goodbye—he took the time to look out for vehicles, ran across and swept Lovino into his arms. "Dios mio, Lovino, está tan bien verle!"

Lovino wrapped his arms around Antonio's strong, rock-hard body, and buried his face into his neck, his hands fisting into his brown jacket.

Antonio felt Lovino's tears trickle down his neck and into his shirt, and smiled sadly. "Are you crying, mi amigo?"

"N-No, you bastard! I don't cry!"

"Oh, then. You must be drooling."

Lovino let out a choked laugh, and Antonio smiled for that. "I missed you."

A breath shuddered out of Lovino. "I missed you, too," he whispered into his neck. Taking in a deep breath, Lovino eased out of Antonio's hug, and wiped at his tears angrily. Deciding to ignore that for the sake of the younger boy's pride, Antonio asked, "How old are you now?"

Lovino sniffled angrily. "Seventeen."

"I see...it's been long, huh?"

Seven years, ten months and twenty four days. "Seven, eight years."

"This is your school, huh? That was a stupid question," Antonio muttered, making Lovino smile. "You want to go out for drinks? You and me, after school?"

Lovino stared at Antonio pointedly, and Antonio felt something pop inside him. "I'm a minor, asshole."

Antonio laughed. "Just as potty-mouthed as ever, eh? Well, chico, I have a friend who works at a bar in a restaurant not too far from here. We can go there, if you like. I could buy you something to eat."

Lovino bent to his side, and looked at Antonio's open guitar case. "If you leave your case unguarded like that, someone's gonna take all your money, asshole."

Antonio reached out, and cupped the side of Lovino's head, running a thumb over his cheekbone. "Well, I don't live like a king...I'll see you after school, then."

Lovino blinked, and stepped away from Antonio. "I'll see you at four. Caio."

Antonio let his hand fall to his side, and watched as Lovino turned and walked away. "L-Lovino!"

He turned around. "What?"

"I"—It was right there, at the tip of his mouth. But somehow, if he let it slip out, it would ruin everything the boy felt for him. "I..Take care."

Lovino raised his eyebrow and snorted. Antonio hid behind his silly grin and waved him goodbye.

If he let the boy know...

He just couldn't.

"Wow."

Lovino blinked, but before he could take in the ambience of the restaurant, Antonio dragged him in. He must've been a regular customer, because everyone over there greeted him by name. Allowing Antonio to navigate him, Lovino looked around—

"Here, sit down."

Lovino looked at the table right next to the large window, and sat down. Antonio sat right opposite him, and grinned. "Well, how's life been to you?"

Lovino shrugged. "It was fine. Grandpa left suddenly, two years ago, but Feliciano and I aren't in a bad place, since he's kept funds for our education and sustenance. Still, Feli and I work for the extra change, and save it for a rainy day. I know it could've been worse, and I'm just glad it isn't." He looked up at Antonio. "You looked surprised."

"I just...never mind."

"How about you? What have you been up to?"

"Well, I""—

"Antonio, my awesome friend!"

"Oh, crap," Antonio muttered. Amused, Lovino looked up and saw a man with silverish-blond hair and crimson eyes stand in front of them. "Oh, I see you've got a friend along. Well, friend of Antonio, I'm the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

"I"—

"Gilbert, make yourself useful at the bar, please," a brown haired lady walked up to them, glaring daggers into Gilbert's head.

"But Elizabeta"—

"Move!" Lovino watched as Gilbert walked out, deflated. "Well, Antonio, how nice to see you! I see you've got a friend of yours along."

"Lovino, this is Elizabeta. She works here—although why such a bella dama should do work is beyond me."

Said bella dama just raised an eyebrow. "I'm immune to your charms, Antonio Fernandez."

"You're breaking my heart, amiga. This is Lovino Vargas, my...friend."

"Well, what will the two of you have?"

That was it. He couldn't take this any longer. He wasn't going to just stand there and let him go around calling him a friend. That Gilbert was a friend. Elizabeta was a friend. He was not a friend, damnit!

"Well, Lovino—Lovino, what wrong?"

Elizabeta, recognizing her cue, said something and left.

"Lovino, mi amigo"—

"I am not your amigo, Antonio!"

Antonio blinked at Lovino's yell. Lovino got up. "Don't you dare call me your amigo, Antonio, ever again!"

"L-Lovino, have I done something wrong?"

His quiet, hurt voice reached Lovino, but he'd had enough. "Ti amo, bastardo!"

Oh crap.

Oh freaking crap.

He had said it. He had said it. And time had stopped for him. Time had halted in its bloody steps and stopped to stare at him.

"L-Lovino?"

And time was running again. And before he could realize it, so was he. He was running out of the shop, onto the street, towards his school, towards his brother, who was carrying both their bags and walking with Ludwig and Kiku.

"Feli!"

Feliciano turned around, astonished to see his elder brother in tears. "L-Lovi, what happened?"

"Let's get out of here. Please."

Feliciano nodded, and turned to Ludwig and Kiku, who gave their quiet acceptance.

"Let's go home, Lovino."

"You know, mon ami, the bar might just break if you keep banging your head against it like that."

"I. Don't. Care. Cabrón."

"Oi, Gilbert, another round here." Francis turned to his best friend, who had been damaging his head steadily for the past half hour. "You know, I could help you"—

And before he knew it, Francis was being shook like a rag doll in a storm, with the acute fear that if his tearful friend kept it up, his neck would snap. "Antonio! Antonio! Stop it, mon ami!"—

"He hates me, Francis! I know he hates me!" He grabbed a tissue paper and tore it up.

That was random, Francis thought, glad that he wasn't being shaken so much. "Well, from what Eliza said, he said 'Ti amo'. That means he loves you."

Antonio let out a groan and began hitting his head against the bar.

"Oi. Oi! Stop it!" Francis grabbed hold of Antonio, and shook him so hard his teeth rattled. "Why are you so sad?"

"Because—I love him too!" he wailed.

"So, go say it." Francis could not believe he was giving love advice to a man who rivalled him in passion and love.

"B-But"—

"You're a musician, pour l'amour de Dieu! Go and sing your love to him!"

"B-But—Wait a minute! I'll sing my love to him!"

Now Francis felt like banging his head against the bar.

"Francis, you're my best friend!"

"For a reason," Francis muttered. Antonio got off the chair and ran right to the door. "I'm going to compose a song and sing it to him! Gracias, Francis!"

"Why did Antonio run away? That is not awesome," Gilbert said, arriving with the drinks.

Francis got up. "Gilbert, do you have love-troubles?"

Gilbert's trigger-happy blush gave him away. "O-Of course not! The awesome Gilbert has no troubles with love!"

"Good. 'Cause, mon ami, I don't care."

There was something about spreading the love, but as far as Francis was concerned, solving problems like this was the worst.

If Antonio had any more troubles with his amoureux, well...he could just go tell Gilbert.

And back to where we started...

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Alfred yelled all the way down the line.

"We aren't kindergarten children! Get out of the line if you want to!" Ludwig yelled back.

Feliciano whispered into Lovino's ears, "Lovi, is that Antonio?"

"N-No..."

"Then why is he singing about you? Do you know him?"

"I-I-I..."

"Oi, Vargas, this guy's singing about you!" Alfred, who'd (for once) taken Ludwig's advice, had walked ahead of them.

"Really?" Kiku said, walking towards where Alfred was standing. "Alfred-san's right, Lovino-san! He's singing about you!"

Holy crap.

"I-I have t-to"—

"Lovino."

He turned to his younger brother, and due to his absolute panic could not observe the fact that his brother had his serious face on, which was rare. "Lovino, if this man didn't mean it, he wouldn't come and sing in front of the school like this. Give him a chance"—

"For the sake of his awful song," Ludwig added, and Feliciano laughed. "Well, yes. Ludwig's right. Even if his song's awful, he's taking the chance. Go for it."

Feli's gentle prod was enough to get Lovino's legs moving in the right direction. The crowd that had formed around Antonio watched with baited breaths as Lovino made his way through the crowd, moving aside to let the subject of the song through. Lovino didn't hear any of them, didn't see any of them. He just walked right through, and stood at the edge of the large blanket Antonio had spread on the ground.

"And this I need to say to you, ñaño. Te quiero, mi Lovino."

A lump began forming around Lovino's throat. He raised his teary eyes and choked out, "That song was crap."

Antonio grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, right? I sat up all night trying to get it right, but...I'm not much of a composer as I"—

"But the last line was my favourite."

Antonio's eyes widened, then crinkled as he smiled. "Te quiero, mi Lovino. I love you, my Lovino."

Lovino threw himself into Antonio's arms, who caught him. "Nunca te dejaré ir. I'll never let you go, Lovino."

Lovino eased back. "I don't want you to"—

"Kiss!"

Lovino recognized that voice. "That busybody Alfred..."

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Soon, the whole crowd was roaring it. Antonio laughed, and raised Lovino's face to his. "Well, mi amor? Shall we please our audience?"

"I live to please myself." Lovino reached up and pressed his lips to Antonio's.

Antonio pulled him closer, melded his mouth firmly into Lovino's. As heat shot through him, Lovino felt that drowning sensation he had felt all those years ago...

He had drowned in the green of those eyes, and had never come back up.

Fin.

A/N: Cute, isn't it? I swear, I've never written anything so fluffy even in my original works (Fanfic rox!). If my Spanish or Italian or French suck, blame Google translate—and if it's good, thank Google translate. (But seriously, if you pick some mistakes up that you can correct, PM me and I'll be more than happy to get it out of the way)

I never thought I'd ever write a Spamano—a really short time ago, I really didn't get Spamano. I didn't get BelCan either (But I'm writing a story on AmeBelCan, aren't I?) The only pairings I ever understood were GerIta (duh!) PruCan, FrUK and France x Spain. And, oh yeah, SuFin (I looooooove SuFin!) But now, thanks to and all the doujinshi roaming around on the internet...I'm more enlightened now. Thank you internet!

This was actually inspired by the cover pic of this story (The link's here: image/35247416141) The story just SCREAMED to be written, and, well...here it is!

Well, I hope you enjoyed it. This is my second fanfic, so do let me know if it's good or bad. Ciao!

Cheers,

R. K. Iris.