Totally forgot the disclaimer on the first chapter.
Hetalia does not belong to me, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
002. Middles
By the middle of the week, Spain couldn't say he was faring too well. In just three days of work, he had managed to upset his boss several times and fall asleep on the job twice. And on top of that, Spain and the whole of Europe was still dealing with the crisis in Iran, the horrid economy, and whatever else decided to pop up on a day to day basis. Overall, the usually happy, care-free Spaniard was bogged down by worries over the world's problems.
And on top of that, the Spanish football team just lost to the American team!
"What is the world coming too…?" Antonio mumbled with his head in his hands, stopped at a stubborn red traffic light that had not changed for some time. Just a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up adorned the Spaniard, suit jacked thrown in the backseat due to the rising summer heat. He lifted his head and glanced up, the traffic light finally switching to green and the rush hour traffic unclogging itself slightly as cars rushed forward.
Spain continued on at his steady pace, keeping up with the rest of the vehicles around him, for quite some time. However, just a few blocks from his home, the previously green light he was speeding towards suddenly altered to red, causing Antonio to slam on his breaks and almost run the red light. A few cars behind him also screeched to a stop and honked loudly; Spain could hear some of the drivers shouting obscenities out their windows.
Safely at a full stop and all in one piece, the dark skinned man relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief and slumping back into the driver's seat. A catchy tune abruptly disturbed the quiet of the warm car and caused Antonio to sit up and reach to his back seat, fishing his cell phone out of his suit jacket. He flipped open the small device and checked the screen.
'You have three new text messages'. The LED screen brightly displayed. The Spaniard pressed the 'Accept' button and read the first text, eyes flicking to the light ahead of him every few seconds to check for a green light. The first text was from Lovino.
'Potato bastard came over to my place for Feli so I left. I'm coming to your house.' It read. So Romano was his house now? He checked the time of the text. 12:03. It was now past 4:30, surly the Italian hadn't waited outside his door for that long…
He opened the second message.
'I'm in your house and bored. Found your spare key, you need to hide it better.' The second one read, also apparently from the elder Italian. Antonio sighed, perhaps Lovino had at least cooked something for him to eat when he got home.
The brunette man hit the 'accept' button once again, hoping the light wouldn't change so he could read this last text.
'Very bored, you need to hurry up and get home…I'm hungry and I can't find the pasta.' Antonio put his hand on his forehead. He should have never expected the lazy Italian to attempt to cook something, much less find the necessary ingredients.
He looked up once again, the traffic light finally switching to green. The Spaniard snapped his phone shut, tossed it to the passenger's seat, grabbed the wheel, and stepped on the gas. He expected to be greeted with a hungry, annoyed Italian when he arrived home.
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And Antonio was greeted with a hungry, annoyed Italian when he finally pulled into his own driveway. Lovino had not even waited for him to get in the house; the moment Spain stepped out of the car the Southern Italy brother went off.
"Where have you been, you bastard?! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting here? Five hours, Antonio, FIVE HOURS. And I couldn't even find the damn pasta! Do you know what the hell kind of state your kitchen is in? It is filthy and unorganized and, goddamnit, I couldn't even find the wine! I'm STARVING and I'm not making dinner and…" Romano ranted to the Spaniard.
Meanwhile, Antonio proceeded to grab his cell phone and laptop out of the passenger's seat, then open the back door and get his suit jacket, all the while having Lovino scream in his ear. The Italian followed right behind him as he trudged up his sidewalk to the front door, shoved the partially cracked door open, set his things down on the kitchen table, and then collapsed on the couch. Spain put his face in a throw pillow and covered his head with tired, sore hands. Romano was still ranting.
"…and did you know you had a bunch of ripe tomatoes out back? You're supposed to pick them when they're red or they'll fall off and rot, you bastard! I mean I didn't go out and pick them, but you really need to! If they rot your whole house will small and that will be wasting food and-" The Italian continued on, until he was interrupted by Antonio.
"Lovi, mi amor, I'm sorry for your horrible day but I am exhausted." The tanned man explained. Lovino crossed his arms over his chest and stared incredulously at the man below him. "I know you won't cook anything, Lovi, and I definitely do not have any more enthusiasm than you do. As much as I would love to sit down to dinner with you, I don't have the energy. I think I'm just going to go shower and then go to bed."
Lovino paused at the Spaniard's curt words and looked away from the man lying on the couch. He was silent for a few seconds before speaking. "Fine, I'll just order out. I don't need you!" The Italian huffed and stalked into the kitchen.
Antonio simply sighed and pulled himself up to a sitting position, stretching his arms and shoulders before standing and proceeding to his bedroom.
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After a soothing, hot shower the Spaniard pulled on a comfy t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants before collapsing on his bed and curling up into the sheets and blankets. About half an hour into his rest, his bedroom door opened, soft light pouring in from the hallway. Antonio lifted his head to catch a glance at who ever disturbed him. Through the semi-darkness, Spain caught sight of a small head and that telltale curl of Lovino's hair.
"Yes, is there something you need, Lovi?" Antonio questioned, sitting up and yawning. Romano scurried into the room and shut the door behind him, returning the room to its previous darkness. "I was just tired…and I…I wonderedificouldsleephere." The Italian blurted out all in one breath, turning his head to the side as to hide his pink-tinted face.
"Qué?" Antonio said, "Lovi could you repeat that?"
"I said," Lovino began, turning his head back to face Spain full on "Can. I. Sleep. Here, you bastard!" he almost shouted, face turning red with embarrassment and anger.
Antonio chucked and nodded. "Of course you can, mi amor~. You know I would never refuse you."
Lovino huffed and crawled under the blankets with Antonio, snuggling up to his chest. "…missed you all day…" The Italian whispered, his face buried in the Spaniard's shirt. "You're weird when you're not happy, idiot. Makes me feel bad…"
"Aw, Lovi. It's not your fault, you know that. I was just stressed." Antonio answered, running his large hands through Lovino's short hair. The Italian did not answer, choosing to simply wrap his arms around Spain. Antonio smiled, lying his head back down next to Romano's, and kissed his former charge on the forehead. He, too, wrapped his arms around his bedmate before drifting off to sleep.
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mi amor-my love
que?-what?
Awww, Spain. You're such a nice guy x_x
My first attempt at fluff. Is it good, y/n?
Oh and when I mentioned football I mean soccer, for any American readers who didn't know. In Europe, soccer is called football. It makes a lot more sense than our football. American football should be called handegg.
