Sorry you guys! My internet spazzed as soon as I finished typing this yesterday, so here it is a day later.

Due to a messed up dream he didn't really feel like doing anything. In truth, Romano wanted to erase his memory of that stupid dream! Growling to himself the Italian slowly rolled out of bed and got dressed. With a blank gaze he carefully brushed his hair and prepared himself for the annoying Spaniard that was waiting for him in the kitchen. Replacing the blank look with his usual scowl he walked into the kitchen and slipped into his seat at the table. Still in the process of an attempted mind-wipe he unconsciously ate the food that Spain had set on the table. The happy-go-lucky idiot had actually been fairly quiet this morning, thank god.

"So, what are you doing today Roma~" The Spanish bastard practically sang. Could he not sense the mood and shut up? No, of course not. He had to remind himself that this was Spain he was thinking about. If Spain was able to sense the mood the world would be over.

"Bastard I told you not to call me that! And I'm definitely spending all of today away from you." He crossed his arms and hoped that Spain got the message. Then to give the Spaniard another hint he uncrossed his arms long enough to toss a churro from his plate into the idiot's general direction. He saw the older man flinch and felt a little bit of guilt, but he shoved it down and replaced it with anger.

"I guess it's good that you think that, because I have to be at work all day. My boss seems to think that I'm falling behind with my paperwork. He-"

"Don't get into the details, just leave." That made him feel even worse. Really he just interrupted Spain to try to get the sad smile off of his face. It made him feel terrible, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault. Because it was.

"Sí, I'll get my things." The hurt was pretty much emanating from the Spaniard, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide it inside himself. Spain started out the front door with his laptop in hand. Just before the door clicked closed Romano heard something that he had been secretly waiting for, and dreading that it wouldn't come. It was the reason that he had snuck to the corner right next to the door to listen to Spain leave.

"Adiós Romano. Have a nice day." Even as close as he was he could barely hear the whispered words today. Ever since he was a chibi Spain had said those words every day when he left. Romano had some to see them as an assurance that the Spaniard wasn't going to abandon him.

"Bye Spagna. I'll wait for you," he mumbled quietly. Without fail he always came and whispered those words to a closed door after Spain had already left. The Spaniard was pretty much all he had besides his scatter-brained younger brother, so if he wasn't waiting for Spain what would he do? Who else would he ever spend time with? That morning had gone pretty badly, even when he usually cursed out Spain daily. He could only remember a few times over the centuries when he had actually pushed Spain away and meant it. The Italian decided to distract himself by talking to a random person. They
would have no idea who he was, so he could say whatever he wanted with no repercussions.

Wasting no time he went to his room and pushed the power button for his computer. He had been messing with this site for a while now, and knew how far he could push it without being banned. After typing 'Omegle' into Google and selecting the 'text' option he was ready to put in his interests. Usually he couldn't find anyone who put "tomatoes" as their interests, but it was worth a try.

You are now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Amazing, someone else actually put "tomatoes." Well they could talk first, he as sure as hell wasn't going to. It was a battle between the two of them... Who would break the silence f-

Stranger: I love tomatoes, and so must you since you put them as an interest. How was your day?

Never mind, the bastard just broke the silence without a second thought from the looks of it. He was doing this to rant to people so...

You: So far its been so terrible I hate it. My day can go to hell.

Stranger: Where are you at?

You: None of your business stalker!

Oh well, might as well answer the question vaguely, there were a lot of people in Spain.

You: I'm in Spain.

Stranger: I am as well~ Do you like it here? Are you Spanish?

You: It's okay I guess. My best friend really likes it here though because he's Spanish. And, no I'm Italian! And Italians kick ass!

If Spain wasn't his best friend he didn't know what he was. And if he hated his own country... What kind of a mentally unstable person would he have to be?

Stranger: Well, your friend sounds nice.

If only this guy knew. Nice didn't even cover how kind Spain was to everyone.

You: Southern Italy is better than Spain.

Shameless self-advertising. Of course he was better than tomato bastard. Not really, in truth everyone would probably be better off if he spontaneously combusted because he was such a terrible person.

Stranger: Do you have a tomato garden?

You: Of course I do! But my stupid friend's takes up almost his entire backyard. That bastard always makes me help him weed it whenever I visit him.

Stranger: It's nice of him to share to joy of tomatoes with you! :D My tomato friend would NEVER let me touch his garden. :(

You: Really I don't mind helping... And what's with the freaky faces?! No need for that, stupid!

Stranger: Churros~

This guy was sounding more like Spain with every reply he made.

You: What the hell is with the random "churros~" ?!

Stranger: That's what I had for breakfast!

I-It had to be a coincidence! He was sure that people all over Spain had had churros for breakfast this morning! He glanced around his room, to make sure that he was really alone...

Stranger: Hola? Are you still there?

He needed more time to collect his thoughts, damn it!

You: …

Stranger: Did I say something that made you angry? Lo siento.

No, you just really creeped me out bastard!

You: Don't use that complicated language that is like Italian but not near as good!

Stranger: You speak it from visiting Spain so much don't you?

He had been fluent for years now, but he could never let Spain catch on to how hard he had studied to pick it up. If somehow this person knew the Spanish bastard... What the hell was he thinking?! This was just some random person on the internet.

You: Yeah, but I like Italian better, damn it!

Stranger: I speak Italian as well, I just prefer Spanish because it's my native tongue. That's probably the same reason you like Italian better than Spanish. What color is your hair?

… That bastard was right, he liked Italian better because it was literally his language. Still pondering that he answered the question.

You: Auburn I guess. It's kind of redish, but it looks brown from a distance.

He read over what he had just said. What?! He hadn't been paying attention!

You: CHIGI! YOU BASTARD! Don't ask questions like that!

Normally he would have disconnected a long time ago. Why was he still talking to this guy?

Stranger: If nations were people what would they look like?

Man, if only you knew. You're talking to one right now...

You: Which country are you asking about? Be specific damn it!

Stranger: España, because that's where we are right now.

Spain?! This person wanted him to make up a character for tomato bastard?! He might as well cheat and use the real thing.

You: Then you describe Italy if you're so keen.

He was wondering what this mortal person would say. On the tiny chance that it was another nation he would know because they would describe his brother.

Stranger: Northern or Southern half?

A single tear dripped down his face.

You: What does it matter idiot? They're the same thing now.

He was always inferior to his brother, the shunned half of Italy that after the unification, had no purpose. To distract himself he began his description of Spain, one of two people that he was on semi-good terms with.

You: I think Spain would be medium height, with wavy brown hair the color of chocolate. No, maybe more like curly. Anyway, his eyes would be a bright emerald that lit up all the time with happiness all the damn time because Spanish people are so outrageously cheerful. His teeth would be straight and he would never have needed braces, because I say so. And he would get wasted for no reason with a pervert and a potato-freak.

But there was so much more about Spain that still needed to be said, and the Italian wasn't even sure if he could put it into words. Well, he would try.

You: And he would always try to smile. Even if it was sad or malicious or something he would try to fix everything by grinning. He would wear a tan shirt with ¾ length sleeves and tan pants. The sleeves of his shirt would have bleached out tomato stains on the elbows from accidentally bumping against tomatoes on the counter. And Spain would be so oblivious and caring to everyone, whether they were nice to him or not. He would have someone dependent on him for everything and instead of calling the person a slacker he would share all he had with them because he cared so much for other people.

Romano felt that he still hadn't truly captured Spain's essence, and wondered what more he could possibly say to complete the picture. As he tried to figure out what else he could add the other person began their description of Italy.

Stranger: I picture Italy as being lightly tanned, on the shorter side of medium height with dark redish brown hair. On the right side he would have this cute little curl that would be fun to mess with, but he would never let anyone get close to it. Some secret reason would make him snap and beat the crap out of the person who tried to touch it. He would always be grouchy and refuse to smile even when he really wants to. But that would make it so that when he did smile he would shine brighter than the sun. His swearing would scare people away from him, except women, because he would like to flirt. Because of his imaginative way of putting together swear words he would believe that no one cared about him, when really the person that cared about him the most had been there his entire existence.

He read the last sentence over and over like a broken record. Sure, the other parts really touched him too, but not like this last one. The person that had been there his entire existence... Feliciano was younger than him, and Grandpa Rome was dead. That left just one person that the "stranger" could be talking about.

Stranger: And when eating a perfect tomato his hazel eyes would glitter with a happiness that he almost never let out into the world. His shimmering orbs would seem to change colors, and you never really knew if they were green or light brown. But somehow it would make him even more special. But even with his less desirable qualities he would be a great person that would live a long and happy life.

Stranger: And he would eat churros for breakfast every Thursday.

It had to be him. Who else would hear "Italy" and ask what half? No one else cared about him enough, and no one else even thought of him as a part of Italy, especially his dumb brother. How could any of those things possibly be true? As far as he knew all he did was drag the Spaniard down with him into the pits of hell.

You: Bastaafrd! I todl you to descirbe Itayl!

He was getting overly emotional and it was messing with his typing skills. 'Calm Romano, calm. Everything is fine.'

Stranger: But I did. Roma...?

You: …

Stranger: Romano? Listen to Boss!

Tears threatened to spill over. The Spaniard still cared about him that much to use that ridiculous nickname? It was something he had come up with one day to placate him about something, and it stuck.

You: Tomato bastard.

Better just to let him think that he was unaffected.

Stranger: I really care about you, just open up a little bit, okay? Tell me what's bothering you.

It wasn't even that dream anymore, it was the emotional strain from what Spain had said about him.

Stranger: By the way, you description of me was spot on Roma~

You: I'm fine Spagna.

Stranger: It's easy to lie when all the other person can see is the words you type Roma. I love you Roma, let me help you.

You: You expect me to believe you after what you just said about the internet? It's obvious that everyone likes Italy better than me, you included. Don't lie to me bastard.

For a good reason to. His brother was both the better person as well as the better nation.

Stranger: You've always been my favorite half of Italy, Italy Romano.

H-He really said that with no roundabouts or anything. Just right out there. And then disconnected right afterwards too. Time to go give the Spaniard a piece of his mind for messing around with him like that! He logged off of his computer and raced down the hall at top speed to try and get to the front door. He threw it open, still panting from his sprint, right into Spain's face.

"I should have known from the beginning that it was you! Usually there's not anyone else with "tomatoes" in the interest bar!" His unchecked emotions continued in their endless spiral. At this point he wasn't even sure what he was feeling and for some reason that brought more tears to his eyes.

"I knew you didn't really hate me Roma~ Thanks for telling me the truth, I take your feelings into account whenever I do anything."

"Tomato bastard! J-Just leave me alone I don't want to see you!" It was clear that that was a lie, even to him. Ripped in two by his feelings Romano tried to piece everything back together and find out how much he meant it.

"Let's weed the garden Roma, you said you didn't mind." As he was lost within himself the sudden jolt of contact between them scared him for a few seconds. Spain had grabbed onto his hand and was dragging him outside. Thankfully he had already set down his laptop on the table because it was pretty expensive.

"Do you really think those things about me?" He whispered, half hoping that the Spaniard wouldn't hear. Because if he heard and confessed that everything had been a lie Romano knew that he would be completely crushed.

"Of course I do. I'll never leave you Roma~"

Deep in his heart Romano knew that those were the words that he had been waiting for.

.

.

.

"Don't call me that."

As always, please review and tell me what you thought!