What For?

by YouDontNameWhatYouThrowBack

After a period of hostility England and Spain decide to rekindle their relationship after 'the Convention of Bristol' in 1573 but after years of misunderstandings and provocations it proves entirely more difficult to move past their problems (religious and otherwise) than they originally thought. (This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction so I'm sorry for any OC-ness)

Spain and England were not two nations of whom you would find often willingly partaking in each-others company.
Due to political issues, religious divide and varying alliances, the two could be found fighting or arguing, spitting words at one another, bloodying themselves in conflict and conspiring with other countries (namely France and Portugal thanks to the Anglo-Portuguese alliance) to somehow topple the other country; or in the very least find out something humiliating that could be put to good use in the future.
However, there were varying intervals of peace where the two could meet and act as though nothing on the battle field ever happened, all the words that they said could be taken back and all the hurt they caused never happened. It was these times that no one else saw, because they were busy locked in the arms of the other trying hard to win the others forgiveness through chaste kisses and longing embraces, no they wouldn't dare let the other countries see them like this. Spain had always found himself quite taken with the blond nation, though he'd never admit it out loud, in all honesty he didn't really know what it was that kept him coming back to the Englishman in the first place. He was rude, obnoxious, loud and above all else was impossible to hold a conversation with anymore. Arguably the events of the last hundred years or so had strained their relationship, England's alliance with Portugal had become complicated in the war of Castilian succession (Which Arthur always argued was somehow Antonio's fault) and even more recently with the looting of gold from Spanish trading ships in English ports heading to fund the war in the northern lowlands. And from there, through compromise and some hard line arguing on Arthur's part, diplomacy was restored and the two countries could continue as though the last hundred years never happened. Business as usual.
Very quickly after the finalities of the agreement were ironed out, Arthur and Antonio both made haste to the new world with the end goal of finding one another and spending time together away from the prying eyes of their disapproving royals. Their plan included staying away from the conflict of the mainland, away entirely from the ugly dresses of the royal courts and back to the one thing that they loved best. Upon his eventual arrival in Havana, Arthur immediately recognised the creamy sails of Spain's Frigate adorned with a red stripe running horizontally across the top. England allowed his crew free reign of the port town while he made way to find the Spaniard and after a relatively short hunt for the Iberian he found him lazing in his cabin. He found it rather difficult to start conversation and instead opted to sitting in the well-lit window area and reading the first thing he picked up from Spain's table.
The two men sat in a comfortable silence, content alone with just enjoying the presence of each-others (for once) peaceful company. Antonio's tired eyes bounced over Arthur's stoic statue like form as he tapped his ink pen against his slightly dry lips. Arthur, though having spent months on the sea, still smelt distinctively of pastures of the English countryside and the roses that bloomed so wonderfully in his garden. Arthur was perched on a window ledge overlooking the horizon, the book he was so quick to scoop up was unfortunately in Spanish, so lay abandoned only seven pages in on his lap, his pale hand resting on the spine. Arthur's green eyes instead focused on the slow movement of the ocean just beyond the window his eyes catching the suns light and gleaming like rare precious jewels. It was in these moments that Antonio could see all the colours of Arthurs eyes, the flecks of mellowed out yellows and subtly earthly browns that mixed with the overall green made the palette of his eyes, a green that he once told him as a child reminded him of the rolling grasslands of the English country side, he loved the way England would huff and deny it and even in remembering could see the cute wide-eyed pout of the child Arthur once was. Spain remembered in moments like these why he kept coming back, England was always a sight for sore eyes and always bought back and made fond memories with him. Arthur slightly drew the curtains so the sunlight didn't blind him, the light that came through instead shone on his skin and caused his already pale skin to look almost translucent. His blond hair seemed ablaze in the dying light, celestial almost, like some angel come to deliver Antonio from evil and his own sin.
Spain always admired the Englishman in this way, appreciating the way he looked in different environments and the way he would always somehow stick out in them, maybe Antonio was just plain or growing sensitive with age. Sighing contentedly Antonio finished off this drawing of Arthur, sweet Feliciano had been showing Antonio his drawings and paintings and he felt inspired to create something of equal beauty to the young boy's work. Unsurprisingly, Spain's drawings weren't as good as the young Italians, even going as far as to be mocked by his little Romano, but that's not to say they were bad, Antonio preferred to capture the feeling in the moment and right now that was one of peace.
Spain flipped through the pages of his notebook, sketches of flowers sat aside pressed flowers, drawings from the royal court and drawings of other people, looking back on the last few he smiled at the familiar faces of the Italy brothers side by side with smiles on their faces (Romano's forced and coaxed by Spain with the bribe of a tomato or two), Burgundy and her sweet round face, the smirking form of the French man and another turn of the page revealed the resting face of Byzantine. Spain frowned upon the realisation that he was just upsetting himself, Byzantine after all was fresh in the minds of the European nations with her dissolution still raw for them all. Another sigh drawled out of Antonio's lips, this time causing Arthur to look up in irritation.
"What's wrong?" he asked raising a thick eyebrow, Antonio sat up not even realising he had been slouching, answering with a dumb 'huh?'.
"Oh I was just drawing you, you want to see?" Antonio flashed a toothy grin, Arthur put his book down with haste having lost interest long ago and shifted off the window ledge. He walked over to the Spaniards side and took the small brown leather book from the others hand, he acknowledged the drawing of him making small 'hmm' noises as he looked over it with a slight upturned lip before returning to the other with a warm smile "It's shit mate" Spain's smile faltered.
"I'm kidding, obviously, it's amazing!" Spain slouched back in his seat, not sure which of Arthur's previous statements had been a better reflection of how he felt. Arthur kept turning through the pages, skipping through the drawings of people he recognised, he scoffed upon seeing France. "I thought artists captured beautiful things?" "What? You don't think France is beautiful?" Antonio smirked, Arthur visibly shuddered "No, well I guess beauty is subjective, after all you also chose to draw me and I'm not beautiful in the least" Spain violently disagreed, but he didn't vocalize it, he'd sooner lay in jail than admit to himself or England that the latter was beautiful, more so in his eyes than France.
"You read too much into things, I see beauty everywhere, even in someone as bitter and twisted as you" Spain grinned at the smaller man seeing his face twist into a scowl. England mumbled a response but Spain couldn't make out what he said, he quickly clamped the book shut and discarded it onto the bed linens. Arthur quickly recovered himself at the closing of the book dismissing the other with a quick "Fuck off".
Arthur lay on the bed and kicked his legs in the air, a drawn-out sigh leaving his mouth "So you wanker, what should we do, pillage, eat, drink?" Arthur heard Antonio laugh "Well you're already making yourself comfy in my bed we could always have sex" he caught the pillow thrown at him with a slight 'umpf' as England rolled off the bed, obviously unhappy with the others inclination. Despite having been married and sharing a bed for a many number of years the two rarely ever actually had sex, Spain was too oblivious for the most part and England self-conscious from years of war. England perked up at the sound of distant music.
"How about we go check out that music?" he mused walking over to the brunet placing his hands on the others knees, "I think its high time that we enjoy ourselves, it's not often that we're able to spend such time as this together, I can't remember the last time I danced with you" Arthur looked off distantly toward the cabin door hands clenching slightly in anticipation, Antonio's face contorted in amusement at the other mans words "I remember the last time we danced güero, it was at the wedding of Catherine to that cabrón Henry, we hardly talked after Mary's sudden death" "Watch that tongue of yours, try to refrain from using such insulting language, especially towards my monarchs" Spain's smile widened even more, deciding to try his luck he kept prodding the fire.
"Oh si, and how's queen of yours now" Arthur puffed up his chest "She's doing well, no thanks to your insistent interventions in our waters, she's wonderful and is a remarkable figure head for protestants all over Europe" Arthur jibbed poking at Spain's broad shoulder. Spain absentmindedly began to fiddle with the gold cross that hung from his neck ignoring Arthur's provocation, "My king prefers Mary queen of Scotts, I think she would have made you a fine queen and you wouldn't have had to change your religion again! Phillip says-"
"How Elizabeth is a heretic and a flax wench oh I know trust me, I've heard all about the things he had to say of my fair lady" he scowled, glaring into Spain's eyes "You shouldn't believe everything you hear have you always been so easily led? Elizabeth is kind and her religion is neither here nor there and is of no concern to you or your virtuous king, my relations with my brothers shall not be bought into this either so don't even bother bringing it up!" he breathed out. Antonio's eye twitched and he sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, he almost felt guilty for what he said but it was in his nature to tease the irritable man. "Bien! Let's move on from politics we came out here to forget ourselves, didn't we? That's what's so great about this new land!" Spain exclaimed excitedly reaching to cup Arthur's face lovingly. He stood abruptly causing the other man to fall into his arms, he began dancing around in circles holding England by his waist, small cries erupting from the shorter man "tonight we forget all the trivialities and responsibilities of being nations, tonight Inglaterra and España are just countries, and tonight we are Arthur and Antonio, just men" Spain stopped dipping the other gracefully laying a sweet kiss on the tip of England's reddened nose "doesn't that sound perfect" England snorted pushing Spain's face playfully "yeah should it be anyone other than you" he removed himself from the others embrace, "well, and France" he shrugged before leading off to the door.

Spain, dejected from England's cold words followed in hot pursuit of the small Englishman like some small awestruck pup; down the ramp of the ship to the harbour port and toward the sound of music and laughter. The smell of spices and exotic fresh fruits was strong, bananas and pineapples lined street carts and handmade signs picketed the sides of the roads leading to the centre of the colony, a group of fishermen docked their boat pulling in buckets of fish ready for the final hours of market. Antonio spun on his heels taking in the sights of the town and the people, the ordinary lives that they could never have. Men coming home from laborious days of working in the midsummer heat, wayward children lulling by the port side starring in that childish awe at the English galleass Swallow (why England had bothered to bring such a massive vessel was beyond Spain, though England had said Elizabeth insisted he use it). Wives were waiting by doors with open arms ready to welcome those children who would come running. Lanterns outside taverns were being lit signalling the end of the working day and the beginning of a night of regret for many sailors, inns began opening their doors, showing passing sailors that they were not full but open and willing, while not too conspicuous brothels began to brazenly open their doors also showing passing sailors that they too were 'open and willing' which Antonio could only assume was also their motto. When Antonio pulled himself back to reality he realised that the England was gone and he was alone in a darkening street with an expensive looking attire which could attract the wrong attention.
"Damn where's that cabrón gone" Antonio began wandering the streets, the sounds of people mingling and laughing filled his ears and he eventually found himself having a pleasant time, England be damned he could enjoy himself without having England's scornful words hammering in the back of his head. He wanted to remove England from his thoughts not because he was annoyed with the man having walked off but because already he'd managed to make indecent jokes and had unfiltered thoughts of the angry man, however distant hum of music was still audible which could do nothing but remind him of England and how he had been excited to do nothing more than dance with him. He found himself becoming more and more ensnared in Arthur's intoxicating grip, and he hated, no loathed it. His whole life he had been Spain, the Spain, undefeated and unconquerable (if the Moor's had learnt anything), he had taken down enemy after enemy and left the battle field unharmed and his marriage with the cold nation was to serve no more than to further his own gains but much to his dismay he found his feelings began evolving beyond that, maybe even before their marriage. He had been told time and again by his religious teaching that such attractions as he felt towards England were sinful and lustful and served no place in the heart of his strong Catholic nation and yet he found from many adventures with young ladies that none sated him the way that men could, the way England could, he hated it, in part he felt he could blame France for being his first fling, but England, he didn't even know how to deal with his affections for the man, but then why should he? Their marriage was for political gain, just for show, and yet he found rolling in bed and holding England to be rather relaxing and pleasant (this obviously didn't help his already confused state), so if anyone was to blame for his current confusion he felt rest assured it was on the shoulders of Mary and Phillip. The more he had thought about it the harder it became to deny his affections for the man were just friendship or even rivalry and surely enough he concluded that he must be in some way in love with the Arthur.
Antonio groaned as two children giddy with excitement (both notably boys) skipped passed him holding hands and singing in tune with the song that echoed down the busy market streets. He decided to abandon his momentary solitude and furthered down the main street figuring he wasn't helping his brain by thinking about the strange relationship they both had. The music became more and more audible and soon Spain could pinpoint where it was coming from, there was a small bandstand with iron curved railings on the edge of an open area, people were dancing as though they were mad (or in the very least drunk) and people were leaning over second floor wooden balcony's waving clothing and cheering along with the music, there were brightly coloured bunting everywhere and a wooden dance floor where mostly youths were joined in merry dance. The music was very Irish in tune and Spain could almost imagine him and England dancing around the other people leaving awestruck faces in their path. His body was itching for a dance, he needed to dance with a certain feisty Englishman or he would not be sated. Lady luck appeared to be on Spain's side as a quick glance at the stalls around the centre showed a single mop of sunny blond standing amongst the darker hair of the southern descended locals.

Arthur ran through the cobbled street marvelling at the variety of people that surrounded him, all different races and ethnicities focused in one small area, how he loved it. The overwhelming smells caused him to inhale deeply over some of the stalls which presented piles of strangely coloured powdered spice, deep cadmium yellow and velvety blue and burning reds. He trailed his hands over the sides of the carts before stopping in front of a cart adorned with a variety of flowers, Carnations, Lilies and Roses red and white and Anemones all adorned the cart in a kaleidoscope of colour. Arthur thought for a second before smiling warmly over the flowers "how much to make a crown?" he asked the vendor who smirked at him "ohhh buying it for a special someone ey?" he asked, England matched his smirk reaching into his pockets to find his loose change "yeah something like that".
Spain eventually pushed his way through the crowd to England's side "Arthur, Arthur over here, don't run off again I considered abandoning you", he stopped rambling when a cool hand pressed to his chest. England studied him before huffing and turning back to the cart vendor who held out a wooden ring for England to take. Spain grew more and more confused as England began plucking flowers from the cart and slotting them through small holes in the wooden ring, making it almost look like a halo aglow with radiant colour. "Here" England turned meeting Spain in a neutral green gaze, the crown of flowers being placed on his head "Red Anemones for love as Aphrodite loved Adonis, Dahlia's for summer, Carnations for royalty such as that of the Greeks" he smoothed Antonio's brown curls down his fingers lingering slightly before trailing down his sculpted jawline "all things that remind me of you love" he smiled genuinely. Antonio's heart began to beat faster, since when had Arthur ever associated him with those things even in their marriage he would never say such outlandish things to him instead choosing to complain about his wars with France or marvel at how poetic grey skies are.
His face flared an uncharacteristic red, was he mocking him? He shouldn't have such a radical reaction to the stuffy Englishman. What a puta he thought as he suddenly turned back to the stand. "I'd like to make one too, por favor" the gentleman behind the cart looked between the two of them suspiciously fiddling with the cross around his neck before moving slowly to give Spain his frame. Spain pushed England away keeping his back to him, much to the other man's distress "Oi don't push me you git, what flowers are you picking let me see!" he tried to push his way passed the other man but his attempts were in vain, Spain was undeniably much stronger physically than him anyone could tell just by looking at him, Spain was much grander in physique while England was petite and almost feminine.
With a grin Spain turned back, quickly placing the crown on the others tussled hair "White calla lilies for purity, Gladiolus for strength and Amaryllis's for love also, red and fiery" he placed a gentle taunting kiss on his forehead "just like you" he stepped away from the other, his hand trailing a grip down Arthurs arm. Arthur stuttered, face as red as the amorous flowers that now adorned his head, the man behind the stand finally drew the connection between what was happening in front of him and what England had previously said and was less than pleased, shouting at them in what sounded like Spanish, chasing them away from his stand disgusted by the over romantic nature of the relationship between two men.
"Cálmese, Cálmese, CÁLMESE" Spain shouted over the other man's angry threats, Spain faintly heard 'asqueroso' but decided not to bite back anymore, England on the other hand was still shouting down at the other man even though neither knew exactly what the other was saying. The man reached out grabbing England's money from his hand "OW HEY WATCH IT!" he pushed at the other man who had left marks from his aggressive grip on Arthur's wrist and fingers. "Come Arthur, let's just got!" Spain pulled at England shirt pulling him away before he had the chance to hit the man. England sulked at Spain's side pulling his shirt free of the Spaniards grasp, the two men continued to listen to the man hurl disgusting insults at them both as they walked in silence people in the crowd throwing confused and concerned looks at the two men who hurriedly walked away from the scene, well that grubby man had decidedly ruined the mood for them and just when they were rekindling.
"His hands were horribly sweaty" England wiped his hands with a look of utter disgust on his face "I guess we should be a bit more careful around the people, they won't be so tolerant as Mary and Phillip, I'm guessing Elizabeth wouldn't know about this 'heresy'" Spain smiled his usual smile trying to make England smile too but England didn't answer instead he just pushed into the crowd of people away from Spain 'Was it something I said' Antonio thought to himself smugly. England waded through the sea of merry people attempting to put as much distance between him and that insufferable flower man not caring at that point if Spain decided to follow or not he didn't even want to speak to Antonio honestly, at that time he knew he would just upset the other by snapping at him and having to force himself to apologise later (probably ending in makeup sex) and it just wasn't worth the effort.

Letting out a sigh England found himself at the edge of the dance floor watching happily as the children danced in small circles around each other, giggling and playing. England calmed slightly at the sight of the dancing, staring longingly out to the small gathering of children, it was no secret that he longed to be a father but being nations again that was something they were robbed of. A couple had made their way to the dance floor and the way they twirled and danced in unison England could almost imagine himself in a ballroom back in London, or Paris or even Barcelona. England jumped as a hand rubbed over the back of his, hissing when he saw the soft gaze of Antonio. Spain starred down at England having noticed his distant gaze "Do you want to dance?" England's eyes lit slightly at the notion, "Oh no we really shouldn't draw attention to ourselves" Spain laughed lightly "Well…" he leaned into Arthur's ear "It's a bit too late for that corazón" England swallowed thickly at the endearment before thoughts of the ugly flower merchant flashed in his mind, 'how can someone who sells something so beautiful be so awful' he thought shuddering. Spain didn't even give him the time to answer, he knew that England would only respond with something snide anyway, instead he began to pull him to the centre of the dancefloor slowly.
The music changed up, the sound became more country dance and England found himself impossibly lost in Spain's eyes. Arthur's eyes fluttered down to look at his hand, Spain had intertwined their fingers, he wasn't just leading him to the floor he was holding his hand as though they were lovers, normal lovers. Arthur's heart skipped as he tightened his grip pulling their fingers closer together, Spain's hand was warm but not to the point it was sweaty or clammy, his nails were well kept but they weren't so long that they dug into the back of his hand like the merchants had. England smiled lovingly up at the back of Spain's head, his free hand reached out to turn his partner around to look at him. People began to point and stare but Arthur didn't care, in that moment all that mattered was Antonio, sweet, dumb, beautiful Antonio who was giving him nothing but his undivided attention.
England knew that Spain initially saw their union as a means to an end, as a way to further consolidate his place of power in the world, England thought of Spain similarly back then, however he couldn't deny after a while that his dark hair, his exotic complexion, his beautiful language and his wonderful ways won his heart again like they had when he first met him, he'd rather not have to admit to the other, just as he was sure Spain would never admit his love for him so brazenl, but in his heart he knew it was true just as it was true that no matter how sour their countries relations became, Arthur would still go mad with tenderness at just the mere sight of Antonio's face.
Antonio took Arthur's other hand and spun him around releasing the other hand before pulling him back in to his body by the small of his back, hips swaying and legs folding in around each other seamlessly. Their hands met again and stretched out, legs raising and dancing landing on every second beat led by the drum, the crowd began to swoon and soon began a steady clapping rhythm to accompany the dancing men. Spain broke away from England's grasp and began to dance alone, his legs kicked into the air before meeting the floor and tapping in unison, his hands were on his hips and his eyes were closed tight in concentration. Arthur grinned widely and leant forward enjoying the way Antonio's legs moved splendidly and gracefully, Arthur was beginning to understand why the man prided himself on dancing. "Nice!" England shouted over the roaring crowd, he clapped his hands once high in the air before starting his own solo manoeuvres. Spain was intoxicated with England's movements, his feet tapped loudly of the wooden decking, hands seemingly moving separately to his legs. Arthur did fast small turns making his way over to Antonio who held out his hand for Arthur. Arthur snubbed his gesture and instead chose to move his hands behind his back smirking at Spain's dejected face. Spain desperately reached for England's begging him to join hands with him again, rolling his eyes England held Spain's hands. Spain again twisted him, dancing around like he would back home, hips rolling against the others, both men took a stride away from each other moving their joint hands into the air and posing as the song finished.
Both their breathing was laboured as though they had just run a small race, Antonio's face was slightly sweaty and the pale flowers that still adorned his head made his flushed skin stand out even more against the stark pale contrast. Petals lay all over the floor (most seeming to have fallen from England's crown) England quickly remembered himself and removed his hand from Spain's not wanting to give the crowd the wrong idea about them if the hip thrusts hadn't already given them away; after all their unconventional relationship wasn't all that accepted, not even in Europe (Though Phillip had been exceptional in deciding to look the other way about it he wasn't so sure Elizabeth would be as accommodating).

"I forgot how amazing you were at dancing Anthony" England panted lightly, Spain smiled smugly the orange glow of the lanterns flickered in his eyes, he stepped toward the shorter man with a bemused look "Well I could say the same for you Arturo, you're dancing was always so stuffy who knew you could act so free when you dance" England smacked him on the arm "Shut it you, you do nothing but insult me" Spain rolled his eyes in mock hurt "Sí, sí, lo siento mi flor" Spain smirked at the glare spreading on the others face as he began to walk off the dance floor "Are you suggesting that I am delicate" England raised his voice showing his annoyance "I didn't say anything, but if you're so insecure mi amor" England flushed as he tried to keep up with the pace of the other. "I'm not insecure you tosser" Spain only mumbled a little 'sí' before turning sharply on his heels to face the blond once more.
England gasped at the sudden action of the other before raising an eyebrow in question "What? What do you want!" he challenged, Spain remained unfazed, his hands swooping down to encase England's smaller feminine hands, he raised them to his lips and kissed each of England's white knuckles.
"I've missed you" he lay open mouthed kisses on Arthur's wrists "I've missed you more than you could ever know" he admitted.
England blushed for the umpteenth time his face a mixture of worry and embarrassment as he looked around for prying eyes. Luckily, they'd made it to an empty back alley with no one around to see Spain's ministrations "Spain you twat don't do things like that here" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I can't help it I've missed you so much!" Spain continued to leave feathery kisses up his clothed arms before stopping at his shaking elbows, Spain lifted his bowed head to look into England's eyes, they were still shining even in the low light, Spain loved those eyes. Suddenly a jeer from the crowd bought the two back to reality drawing both their gazes back to the crowd "Well what should we do now then España, we could dance some more? Retire for the night, though I'll admit I'm not all that tired" England's hands brushed Spain's fringe out his eyes, pushing his crown further up his head, Spain bounced in his spot excitedly "How about a walk huh? I think we've drawn enough attention to ourselves" Spain grinned pulling England's hands away from his face so he could get a better look at his lover "Besides, I don't want so many people to be around, they're all so judg-ee".
Arthur's lips twitched into a small upturned smile "Judgemental, darling, I think that's the word you're looking for" Arthur lay a small kiss on Antonio's chin, "Sí, bien, well how about a walk, the suns setting and the stars always look so brilliant out here" Arthur nodded quickly in a excited agreement "Then lets hurry, come on" Arthur laughed as the Spaniard stumbled as he was suddenly pushed in the general direction of the beach.
Spain's small shouts of protest were met with deaf ears, and after their eventual banter died down their hands again came together and they were walking in a contented silence.
They walked in the silence of the night with the tender embrace of each other's hands the only reminder that the other was there. No words were said, they weren't needed, the whole walk to the desolate side of the beach was quiet, but that was fine. While Arthur spent the time enjoying his surroundings Antonio was silently losing his mind. Sure, he loved England that much he knew to be true, however he didn't know exactly what either of them really wanted from the other or if they could even give it to each other anymore. It had been a long journey to Cuba and these thoughts hadn't troubled him in the least until their silent sittings, that was the problem silence always led to thought with Spain and England said often enough 'You shouldn't think too hard you'll do your head in'. The day had been long, and with the words of the flower merchant still burning in his mind Spain broke.

"What is this?" England stopped walking, hand not breaking away from Spain's. "What do you mean?" England's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, his mouth pursed into a thin straight white line, he wasn't trying to dodge the question he was genuinely confused by what Spain meant.
"I mean us, what are we doing, why are we doing this to each other, we still have these meetings together and I still hold you like we're lovers" he paused "And then there's war and there's fighting, your relations with my brother aren't helping either" Arthur cut in "Spain I don't know what your insinuating but" it was Spain's turn to cut in, he stepped toward the other casting his eyes over that beautiful pale face "I'm insinuating that our relationship is far too human, Dios mío for the most part we call each other by our human names, we're acting like our relationship is normal. I just want transparency on this" Spain gestured to the distance between the two of them "It's clear as day to me at least that we both are feeling some kind of way, but I want to know what the plan is going forward" Spain ran a hand through his hair "Even though you're here with me, disobeying your Elizabeth I feel like you're still a thousand miles away next to her, I feel like I'll never be more important than that wretched heretic to you" Spain stopped himself, oh he'd cocked up now, and said it with too much emotion to say he didn't mean it.
England pulled his hands away viciously, if looks could kill then Spain would be stone by now, England's eyes were burning with rage at Spain's insults to him and his Queen. "Spain if I were you I'd pick your words far more carefully, Elizabeth is my Queen and my ruler, and I'd be damned if I let you mock her with that filthy tongue" the way England sneered his name made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, ah yes he loved England but he also knew that England loved Elizabeth more than him. Honestly it made no sense to him anyway, she'd been the one to drive them apart by worsening their countries relations and changing England's religion again, it was frustrating. England saw it differently, Elizabeth was doing everything in her power to put the best interests of her country first, and the Spanish empire was being hostile to his country, Antonio may have been dancing with him here, but on the battle field he was merciless to him. In the end they both knew the two of them could act like they were married, they could hug, dance and bring each other flowers but that didn't change the truth; that they were nations first and for better or worse they could never be human, they didn't have that blessing.
England was seething, he was so upset, he wanted nothing more than to pretend for a little longer that what he and Spain had was some mock form of a realistic romance. He remembered when Spain and Phillip were set to visit him and Mary, Spain would always taunt him like France and play him for a fool like Prussia, but would make it okay by sweeping him up into a breath-taking kiss that would leave them both a mess. Mary would constantly let Arthur know how jealous she was of him and Antonio, how she wished Phillip to visit her nearly half as much as Spain visited him.
Spain's kisses changed with time, they became longer, more passionate and gentler; at times he would be so gentle that England thought he might start crying at how pure and clean he felt. It was that that foolishly tricked him into believing that, even after Mary died, that they could continue to live happily as they had done previously.
Had he known that Spain was plagued by these doubts then he would never have fallen as hard as he did, if he knew that eventually the legitimacy of his feelings would be called into question, he would never have shown Spain the affection that they both as lonely countries so desperately wanted in their vast yet empty lives.
Spain looked for some sign of emotion in England's face eventually catching his eyes, his breath caught in his throat, every time he saw those green eyes of England's there was something new in them, he could see every place Arthur had ever been, he could see the skeletal figures of cathedral spires, the corpses of castles the vastness of empty countryside, the denseness of a wooded forest. But in that moment Spain saw something he'd never seen before, insecurity and anxiety, the eyes of a scared child.
"I just need clarity, because we can't ever have what we so obviously want" Spain pressed. "Oh I understand Spain" he spat in Spain's direction "I understand perfectly, we've done a whole turn and we're back to where we started" England held his arms protectively taking a shy step away from Spain "I knew that you could never love me I mean who could right! We're countries after all we don't have the luxury to love, only to be thrown around to the arms of different people when it suits the interests of others! I know I know, but" sniffling came from the now hunched over form in front of Spain "I just thought… just maybe… this could be different" his voice was now cracking, his arms began to shake and his knees almost gave out, he felt pathetic, handing Spain the keys to his heart so freely. "I thought that one day I'd celebrate the day that I fell in love with you, I thought that you loved me too, that's why we came here to escape the confines of the courts and to love freely" Spain swallowed the red-hot guilt that was burning away at his throat, it was almost like a bullet was tearing its way through his gut and would burst out at any moment.
Antonio looked around to make sure they weren't being watched or listened to, it was just them on the outskirts of the town, the only building was an abandoned crafting shop of some kind. He turned suddenly to face Arthur "I do love you maldición!" he sighed heavily running his hands painfully through his knotted dishevelled hair. His eyes flew from England's tight chest to the trees behind him, to the glowing moon, just anywhere but his eyes! He just couldn't focus on the crying man! Tears fell to the floor, Spain's silence sending wrong signals to the Englishman causing England's sobs to become louder as the silence persisted.
England wiped his tears feebly in an attempt to reassert himself "I guess this whole thing was destined to go down the same sad path it always does" his eyes shot up, the intensity causing Spain to shudder involuntarily "What a waste!" he spat.
Spain, quick to defend himself stepped toward England "I understand, I feel the same way truly I do, but one way or another they'll stop us, it's the way it is the way it's always been and the way it always will be mi corazón!" Arthur's body was now shivering in his attempt to control his crying, he knew what Spain was saying was true but somehow hearing him say it aloud was even more painful to him.
"I already said I know Spain! You think I don't? Do you think me dumb?" he snapped, his face fell into his waiting hands shaking slightly from side to side not daring to look in the face of his estranged lover.
"It's just that I am so used to this by now, people coming, taking what they want from me and going I'm sure you know too!" a small groan told England all he needed to know on that "so I thought that there'd be nothing special from this" he gestured the air in between the two of them to spell it out "but then when you held me so lovingly, kissed my face so sweetly and spoke so gently saying that we are but men, it made me think that somehow we could be more than what we are."
Spain roughly pulled his hands through his hair again, he was getting agitated not particularly because he didn't like what he was hearing but because it was the truth, he did do those things to England and in a way that was giving England the love he was so desperately craving from others his entire life.

When they first met Spain watched as France pushed him around and jeered and laughed and rudely said how 'honestly no one could ever love someone like you', Spain knew immediately that wasn't true, he knew that England would grow and would be beautiful as his mother had been and his brothers were and many would die just to have a piece of him. Spain had always pitied the small island nation, with its dreary weather and bland food and flat lands that didn't make for the most interesting scenery to most; he presumed it was because of the depressing atmosphere that he almost never saw the Englishman smile. France and Prussia would always make a scene in front of England about how much they hated having to pass through the Kentish countryside to get to London, but Spain enjoyed the different climate, he enjoyed the smell of wet growth in the morning, he loved the way the fog settled over the hillsides of the north and he loved the way that England looked laying in the long grass by his side as they stared at the stars wishing openly that angels would swoop down and carry them to their impossible peace.
It was on one of those nights that England rolled over to him and said "I wish that we were normal, that when we burn ourselves we scar and when we got incurably ill we die, that would be ideal" silence fell over the men "I think I should like to die" at the time Spain had been confused and a bit concerned by England's tone not sure whether he should press the Anglo into explaining what he meant or let the ambiguous comment slide. England had been having problems with the plague and the Scots to the north had been stirring trouble again and Spain, wishing not to bring more harm had bristled and quickly changed the subject to talk about his brother and how he was irritating him. A small laugh like the chiming of church bells sounded and England was smiling, a bright smile was on his clear face and his teeth were gleaming in the moonlight "I wish someone would love me as much as you love your brother" Antonio bristled for the second time that evening. Seeing something other than a frown on that face was surprising but entirely welcomed, after all he was always beautiful to Spain, but there basked in the light of the high moon with the symphony of nature surrounding them and the way his hair shone almost white in the night, Antonio had mistaken him for something celestial and it would not be the last time that he thought of the man as divine.
England had always envied Spain, his beautiful climate, his tasteful cuisine and cheery people always made him feel lesser and somewhat unimportant in the grander scheme of things. He would never admit it but during the many centuries of invasions he endured, while he always tried his best to fight back he would always find a sick twisted relief in knowing that people acknowledged him and his existence. It made him feel sick, using war to justify himself and his was sickening, he wanted to just be as happy and as perfect as someone like Saxony or Rome. So through the Romans, the Normans, the Saxons and the Vikings he found himself in a state of somewhat sustainable happiness, however when they eventually got bored or chased away and he was inevitably left alone (as if his brothers would help pick him back up) he would often crumble and fall into long fits of unhappiness.
When he first met Spain, he was still only young, France had brought him over to see his new territory that he'd recently claimed (1066) and he had instantly been infatuated with the foreign man. He hadn't seen anyone like him since Rome, being so used to pale skin and dreary faces. This man, Castile as he was referred to then, was everything that England inspired to be, powerful and graceful, his eyes burned like the sun, when he laughed his cheeks would turn red like the poppies the grew along the Kent country lanes, his hair was thick and smelt of the sea and was the deepest shade of brown he had seen other than that of Cymru. But what fascinated him most was his eyes, they were green like his sure, but they weren't the same, they were deeper and more innocent, like freshly fallen autumn leaves a concoction of bright yellows and burning oranges mixed in with the sap green of his eyes.
Everything about him was foreign to England and it was exciting. As he grew he met Spain's brother Portugal (A spitting image really, it was quite daunting) and they both shared a close friendship, but no matter how kind the Portuguese man was to him and no matter how many times he confessed to England, Arthur would always go back to Antonio who had always shown him kindness when no one else had.
However, when politics became involved things changed, they couldn't share their lives with each other in the same way they had. When trade connections were established and tariffs and all that boring stuff was worked out he could no longer casually meet the other as he had before and their relations became strained. But England still loved him.

Both men starred at each other through the awkward silence, both willing the other to say something "Everyone has always left me Spain, everyone except for you" his shoulders sagged "I mean… fuck even my brothers, they can't even look at me anymore because I've wronged them so, you don't know what it's like to not even have your family!" Spain scoffed "Portugal isn't exactly the best brother" "I don't understand your contempt for your brother, he's only ever lovely."
Spain smiled but it was empty "That's just because he wants fuck you" England sneered at the frankness of the statement "Well that doesn't make him a bad person Spain it just makes him blind, besides he may taunt you but at least he's able to look you in the eyes when he talks to you, mine won't even give me the time of day, I'm nothing like they wanted me to be" England's eyes welled with fresh tears "I'm nothing at all to them, do you know what it's like to be nothing to no one" Antonio knew Arthur's question was rhetorical and to save himself from furthering his rage decided to move on from it.
"I'm sure that's not true" Antonio reached out to hold the blond but Arthur pulled away violently, causing Antonio to wince as his nails bent backwards with the force.
"No Spain don't do this, don't confuse me more than I already am. I've had enough of us dancing around this too and I need it to be sorted now and I need to lay bare everything" Spain pursed his lips in unease before giving a slow nod of his head to reassure the other he was listening. England let out a shaky breath before taking the others hand into his, they wrapped around his and locked at his thumbs, they were warm and slightly larger than his and he loved the way they held him comfortingly. He smiled warmly at the Spaniard in appreciation of his efforts to comfort him.
"I don't know how to convince you but I love you, I love you with every aching bone in my body, I didn't want to love you but I did and I couldn't deny myself. I understand that you know people and countries that are better than me and that I'm hardly as flamboyant as France or as assured as Prussia, or as enviously beautiful as Belgium or as militarily capable as Persia hell I pale in comparison, but I can for once be as assured as Gilbert that I love you and no country, no monarch not even the divine will of God could change that. I want to be with you in all your mistakes and your glory, I want to see the way you smile when you just wake up every morning, I want to see the bemused look on your face when France argues with Scotty and to be there to put you back together if you fall" England breathed out "and I want to see that look in your eyes every time you see me, the way your eyes widen and darken ever so slightly and the way a grin breaks out on your face and the way the dimples in your cheeks hollow out as you smile. I miss the way your arm would die beneath me as we lay in bed and the way you yawn so gently, I miss the way your teeth chatter as you adjusted to the cold weather of the lowlands and if you think after this I'm lying well I'd have to say that you were stubborn and impossible but I'd keep listing these things because I know them to be so utterly and undeniably true. I love you, Antonio Carriedo, personification of España! I know it will be hard to convince the people around us that they can do nothing to stop us, but I can't spend my life without knowing that I at least tried to hold on to the only good thing that's ever walked into my life and stayed."
Antonio was left speechless, which was impressive considering how much Antonio normally had to say. Arthur's confession has proved effective in shutting Spain up who was currently searching desperately in England's face for any signs of a lie, but he found nothing. England had spoken true and Spain found himself confronted by two violent truths, the first being that he too desperately missed the Englishman and longed for everything he had just said, the second was that he was terribly frightened by the implications of what doing so would mean. It would mean going against their monarchs, to be secretive and scandalous behind the backs of the very people they were meant to defend, that they would most definitely meet in violent clashes on the battle field and somehow have to work past all the hurt that they would cause each other.
England took Spain's silence as rejection, his hands shot out of Spain's and up to his face defensively as though Spain would strike him "Don't say anything Spain I don't need to hear it, I get that it was stupid."
"England, mierda! Cálmese, I wasn't going to say no!" Spain grabbed England's small wrists ('my hands could almost clamp all the way around them' Antonio thought to himself) and pulled them away from his face only to pull the other into another embrace. He rubbed small circles on Arthur's lower back with his thumbs, unsure as to whether he was being condescending or comforting, though he figured that if he were being condescending he would already have been smacked over the back of the head.
"Dios mío Arturo, you are way too quick to jump to judgement" he chuckled, Arthur scoffed at the other "You mean I jump too quickly to judgement" "Ahhhh potato potato mi amor" he jested smiling adoringly at England's pouting face. He pulled the other in for a tighter hug certain that if he let go he may never hold his precious England again "Don't read me wrong Arturo, I want to make this work truly I do, so I'll at least try for both our sakes to stop the pessimistic thoughts and focus on figuring out how we can make this work" Antonio's hand rested in Arthur's hair nestled beneath the strands of blond. "I would like that, and you know what I'm sorry too, your doubts are, let's just say at least in part understandable, it is a lot to deal with and I shouldn't have just unloaded like that, you only asked a question, I've certainly got some problems of my own to deal with" Arthur thought distantly of his brothers smug faces "but I promise I'm going to try too".

The moonlight shone through the clouds and illuminated the left side of Arthur's face, his hair shone like the sun, his lips were blurred and red like pomegranates, his skin was clear as marble and reminded Antonio of one of Michelangelo's great sculpted masterpieces (Like David or Moses). Antonio was certain he was staring into the face of one of God's angels again. Arthur starred back at him expectantly tilting his head slightly, causing his hair to fall from where it was tucked behind his ear.
"Antonio" England spoke suddenly.
"Yes?" Antonio leant in a little more, excited by England's use of his human name so intimately, Arthur stood away from Antonio before patting his shirt down, he turned smiling genuinely at the Spaniard "I think, I should want to live now, especially if you would be so kind as to be there" and he turned on his heels and began walking away.
Antonio had never moved so quickly in his life; swept up by Arthur's tempestuous flood of emotions, the current reeling him in, and before Arthur could so much as blink he found himself leaning back, his lips taken and Antonio kissing him. Antonio's arms wrapped around Arthur's waist landing on the small of his back hands trailing up and down his spine rumpling his shirt. Arthur, still taken by surprise didn't respond to Antonio's sudden passionate outburst, instead he stood there wide eyed and gripping Spain's arms for balance, it had been a while since they had last kissed after all. Spain pulled away slightly dazed, working hard to catch his breath before looking to England's eyes. His eyes were shimmering, stars dancing in his darkened irises, his pupils were enlarged and his breathing had become uneven, his lips were swollen from the force of the kiss and his cheeks and ears were dusted with a deep blush that accentuated his pale features. Antonio breathed out an unsure laugh as his flower crown fell obscurely in-between their faces, his face contorting in uncertainty, his arms loosened slightly from the others waist. "I'm sorry" he breathed, still struggling to fill his lungs with air. England burst into laughter, hands gripping hard at Spain's clothing almost tearing at it, he braced himself against the others chest as he laughed "Oh Spain" his hand travelled up the side of Antonio's face, taking the crown into his hands and letting it drop to the floor, he cupped Spain's reddened cheek "What for?"
Spain's grin widened, England had never seen him smile that wide before it almost seemed as though his face would surely split. Spain's head dipped below England's jaw, peppering feather light kisses along his jaw and throat causing England to quiver in his hold, this is hardly fair Arthur thought as his hand gripped tightly into Antonio's hair as little gasps of breath left his parted lips.
"Antonio not here, please" he tried to sound assertive but his voice came out weak and empty, Spain breathed England's scent deep into his lungs before releasing a strangled 'bésame', oh this so wasn't fair "Arthur… bésame" he breathed into the others throat. Antonio groaned as his head snapped back and Arthur pulled the locks of his hair before reeling him in for a long kiss both men moaning at the harsh contact. England threaded his long slim fingers into Spain's hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss, the ends of their noses bumped together and their teeth clashed almost painfully but neither cared they were both too engrossed in the other. England, now in control, managed to somehow push the Spaniard against the nearest tree still holding his head firmly while lacing his free hand into Antonio's right hand and pinning it above his head.
Arthur moved his lips from Antonio's, (whose face was somehow redder than before) eyes half lidded and glazed dark, and began laying harsh bites along Spain's throat.
Spain, now a mess, was clawing at the back of England's shirt with his unoccupied hand trying to pull the other closer. He found himself rather enjoying the bites and kisses that England was leaving along his neck and began to wonder how he ever thought that he could go without this, without Arthur.
Spain craned his neck at an awkward angle to allow England more space before reaching down to grab England's backside. The grope elicited a gasp and then a drawn whine as he kneaded the clothed flesh in his hand and used the momentary shock to again switch their positions.
Spain again found England's bruising lips and tried to move the two of them forward. The pair soon found themselves falling, England having tripped on a root and pulling Spain down on top of him.
"Ow, fuck" England groaned, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows stitched together. Spain hastily tried to pull himself off his lover, however in the confusion managed to lean onto England's chest with all his weight causing the man even more pain "get the fuck off me! Ow, damn it all" he pushed violently at Spain's shoulder pushing the other to the cold floor.
"Mierda, what was that for, that was mean you know I didn't mean to fall!" Spain shot an angry glare at the Englishman causing the other to falter slightly. England sighed heavily "Shit, I know, I think it was me who tripped us too" England starred at his stinging palms, small dark beads were forming and beginning to trickle down his arm. "Well I suppose that's the best 'sorry' I'll get from you" Spain ran his tongue along his lip which he'd cut on the fall (England's tooth must have torn it) and ghosted his fingers over his twisted ankle.
"You certainly know how to ruin a mood" Arthur huffed "Well I'd say it's good and dead now unfortunately the day certainly has been filled with some interventionist bullshit, and after everything that's happened tonight it was a nice climax" Spain had to stop himself from laughing at England's use of the word 'climax', "If it's so unfortunate we could always continue" Spain looked England up and down "Looks like we're both a little excited". England covered his crotch with his hands, an embarrassed blush spreading from ear to ear "Yeah- we should- and shall- but as I said not here and maybe not tonight specifically we've both had a long journey and honestly right now I just want to sleep I think we've had enough sightseeing for once night, I've certainly had enough of people" he cursed himself for stuttering. England stood while bracing against a tree, he could feel his legs shaking with the effort and the arousal running through his veins.
"We should probably return to the ships anyway, the crew are probably drinking themselves silly in the town and the boats will be free" Spain hadn't heard something so wonderful in a while, "Only to sleep you tit" England stammered, not wanting Antonio to get ahead of himself.
Spain shrugged dismissively "Sure that sound good to me you know I'm never one to turn down sleep mi amor! Should we go to mine or yours" Spain waggled his eyebrows still suggestively at England who was still hunched over onto the tree. "Mine, I'd rather not have to deal with all the questioning stares of your disgruntled crew in the morning" Spain shrugged once more still unbothered "Bien, let's go then mi amore".

Once more the journey back to town was almost entirely silent, but this time they walked with more speed and urgency, Spain would sometimes let out small hearty laughs while starring at England much to his dismay. They passed through the now emptying streets and the empty space where the ugly vendor was, the only open buildings were now the brothels of which outside stood dressed up courtesans who beckoned for the two men to join them (to which Arthur kindly declined) before making it to the port. Spain began to pick up the pace and England, never being one to turn down a challenge also picked up his pace slightly overtaking the other and before they knew it they had broken into a full out sprint.
The two practically flew down the board walk dodging the odd drunkard or collapsed body; running up the ships ramp and straight to the captains quarters where Spain (who just barely beat England) carelessly threw open the door and waited for England to catch up before slamming it hard.
England drew to a stop at the side of the cabins window and smiled sweetly at Spain who closed the door. Spain smiled back releasing a small 'ha' upon seeing his Arthur once more bathed in the beautiful glow of the moon which illuminated the small cabin in a calming pale blue.
Spain closed the distance between them and once more took England into his arms, letting his hands fall on the small curves of his hips and began rubbing up and down.
Spain leaned down and kissed both England's eyelids before laying a long kiss on his pouted lips drawing England in closer by the back of his neck. England had looped his arms lazily around Spain's neck and was swaying his hips gently as he hummed against the others lips, he pushed Spain away and looked at him tiredly, "Spain, don't read my rejections wrong, I would love more than anything to become reacquainted with you once more" he plainly leered at Antonio "But right now I'm too tired to continue standing much longer" Spain groaned "You were fine but an hour ago" England tsked "Yes but now I am tired"
"But Arthur, after all the build-up and-" England placed his finger to the Spaniards lips cutting him off not wanting to end the night on a foul note "No not tonight, tomorrow perhaps" he winked. Spain groaned again but he knew no meant no so instead just focused on readying himself for bed.
He tore off his shirt in one swipe and discarded it carelessly onto an old splintering chair, next came his slacks and boots which made two distinct thudding noises on the tired timber floor.
Antonio caught a glimpse of Arthur changing and turned to watch the other man undress in the low light, and Arthur, who was faced away from Antonio, noticed in a small bedside mirror the other watching. He returned to humming and pulled his slacks off at a tantalizingly slow pace making sure to bend a little more than necessary allowing the Spanish nation full view of his arse. Antonio's legs felt suddenly shaky and his hands fiddled nervously knuckles cracking at the pressure, he hated it when England teased him so mercilessly especially when he knew that, at least tonight, he wouldn't be able to do more than just hold him "Arthur this is so unfair" he said marveling at the expanse of creamy flesh exposed to him. England sat carefully down on the edge of the bed stretching his pale arms into the air, not even bothering to humour the Spaniard with a response, his mouth widened with a yawn before pulling back the covers to allow the both of them to settle in the bed linens. "Are you going to stand there staring or are you going to join me" England smirked, and Spain, barely even registering the Englishman's taunt, was already moving to the other side of the bed.
The sheets rustled as they both familiarised themselves with small bed frame, both pressing into each other to stop themselves from falling too far off the bed "Sorry it's a tight fit, normally I'm alone on these ships" Antonio chuckled lightly "I'm glad to hear no one else has stolen you attention since I've been gone" Arthur responded by wrapping his arms around Antonio's torso and nuzzling his head into a familiar chest before finally responding with a small 'hmmm'. Spain wrapped one arm around England's waist and the other underneath his neck leaving his hand tangled in those messy blond locks that he loved so much. As he pulled the other in Antonio caught Arthur's eyes, pupils blown so large he almost couldn't see the green of his eyes, his lips were slightly parted and puckered and seemed to beg to be kissed and Antonio was not about to disappoint, swooping in to steal one final kiss of the night.
As usual no one was around, and no one saw their loving moments, not Phillip, not that damned woman who tried her best to keep them apart, no annoying countries and their unwanted opinions. No, in this moment it was just them, legs tangled and Arthur's breathy moans and their insatiable desire for each other's hold. Arthur began leaving burning kisses on Antonio's jaw and over the bruising love bites on his throat before resting his head in the crook of the others neck "Goodnight Toni" Spain smiled at the nickname, he hadn't called him that since they celebrated what they thought to be Mary's pregnancy "Buenos noches corazón" he mumbled feeling sleep take over him.
"I love you" Antonio's heart sped up, it almost sounded as though it were in his head echoing of the walls of his brain, he shouldn't have such a reaction to three simple words but somehow hearing them through the sincerity of Arthur's sleepy voice made him feel like they meant more in that moment than they ever had to anyone before. Because he knew finally that they were true.
"Yo también te amo" Antonio whispered sweetly into Arthur's ear earning a light shudder from the blond now half asleep in his dying arms.
Between when Arthur had left Dover and Antonio had left Valencia neither of them thought they'd spend their first night in Havana together in each other's arms, after silently wiping away all the tears and erasing any doubt that the other had about their feelings both men were finally optimistic that what they had was indeed love and was not something that either of them felt forced into feeling. All the hard talk began to soften, years of animosity ended with the realisation that they were pitted against each other from the start by those who wanted nothing more than to possess their every waking thought. Before they knew it, they were both rocked to sleep by the waves, that night Spain dreamt of pale greens eyes while England smiled in his sleep, for he finally knew that Spain needed him as endlessly as he needed him. Somewhere distantly gulls began to cry in the early morning accompanied only by the calming sound of low churning waves.