Rating: T - Possible OOC, mainly fluff/shounen-ai.

Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya-sensei owns Axis Powers Hetalia and its characters; I solely us them for writing funtimes.

Author's Note: I wanted to write something short that involved these two, but that withheld some meaning nonetheless. Hopefully, I managed to let that show. Feedback is always appreciated~.


Quite a few times, Antonio had found himself wondering what type of life he could possibly lead, if he hadn't involved himself with a certain prideful Italian.

Deeply rich, hazel eyes glistened as they stared up at a stark-white shaded ceiling. A wry, gentle smile smoothed his features as he allowed the curses and angered reprimands of his beloved pull him from the near-constant sleep regime he'd been forced to partake in. He didn't even bother to hide a wince as a watery glare was sent his way, chills convulsing quietly along his skin as goosepimples trailed along his bandaged form.

However, he would not allow his smile to falter, even minutely; he wanted it to be lucid that this time, like every beating other before, he would be okay. He would rise like a beautiful pheonix from smoldering ashes, iridescent wings retracting shards of light pompously, because he had earned the right.

He always rose from every fall.

"You freaking idiot! You got hurt, again…!" the younger teen by his side sniffed indignantly, brows furrowed despite his melancholy.

Eyes widening significantly when a shaky but firm hand laced with his own, Antonio's dilated irises warmed at the sight of worried copper depths of his beloved. Their was a light-pink blush inhabiting, undoubtedly, both of their cheeks; but he knew that he would always find it cute only on the young Italian's features as he attempted to continue scowling. His skin was flushed a soothing hot from paradoxical embarassment, and the young spaniard knew only Lovino could pull off his patented cherubic cyniscism so fluently.

The occassional sentence he spoke in his precious Spanish tongue was a mere side benefit.

"Just let Cuba go, you selfish tomato pervert!" The brunette hiccuped, ignoring that it easily sounded like a plea.

His own hand gripping the softer one tighter, comfortingly; he merely nodded his consent. True, maybe he no longer withheld the right to linger in Cuba's business anymore; they were pronounced split two weeks ago. Yet, he had hoped that, just maybe, he could fix their relationship one final time. He had not expected, however, for Cuba to have so rapaciously (and vindictively) denied him the chance. Much less with the wilfull aid of a certain, nosy, hero-complexed blond patriot.

But the past had already occurred.

His smile loosing some of it's previous sadness, Antonio turned to Lovino and allowed his soothed gaze to linger on confused copper. The boy was cute beyond comprehension; it was a wonder how he could be so young with such promising looks.

"I'm sorry, Lovino. Nunca voy a mirar a alguien mas que ti." He whispered sincerely.

The Italian feigned misunderstanding for the first time in a long time, muttering a flustered "S-shut up, idiot! You don't have to do that!"

However, neither had motioned for an honest protest against the blossoming relationship, otherwise.

Each time his mind traversed through that certain train of thought, the spaniard considered that maybe he wouldn't be the man he was today. They reminded him that perhaps there wouldn't be much left of him worth considering, had the Italian never stumbled into his path like a gift from god himself.

And Lovino would be more than worth his efforts in conquest.