AN/ I'M ALIIIIIIIVE! *dances* So, what you've missed in the life of Spain- I started a Spain page on Failbook (Antonio Fernández Carriedo (Spain / APH)- yes, shameless plug! eue), I joined a Failbook Pottermore Sorority, finished my first year of college, did much confused flailing at work, went up-north twice, ripped down wallpaper from my bathroom (DEVIL MAGIC, I TELL YOU!), and other such fun stuff. Oh, and some writing. Yes. Which is why we are here, right now! Posting this next chapter! As I mentioned on my profile, I have a pretty good idea about the closing chapter, and have already started writing a little omake- you'll know what I'm talking about when you get to it, because the mental image is just too amazing to not write. XD Also, I have most of the next chapter of 'Absence' written AND have more of the poem for The Secret of Us written, so that may be updated before summer's over, hahaha.
SIDE NOTE: I will begin posting some of my old stories, from other series. So don't get super excited when you see I've updated, unless you like Ouran High School Host Club or DNAngel. Because I spent more time in those fandoms, I have a LOT more stories over there than I do for Hetalia. hopefully that will start changing, but in the mean time, you get lots of random stuff from other places!
ANOTHER NOTE, RELATED TO LAST CHAPTER: I had someone (my most amazing eWife, lovejonesy~) point out that she didn't know that last chapter was from Arthur's point of view until he spoke. THIS WAS INTENTIONAL! (I know, I'm so proud of myself! XD) I was going to try and have it last until Lovino suddenly popped up, but Artie demanded to be acknowledged. ._. So yes. That's where that stood.
Goodness, long AN is long. PLEASE READ THE CHAPTER, I'M SO SORRY, IT'S NOT LIKE ANYONE READS AUTHOR'S NOTES ANYWAY. ;_;
I do not own Hetalia or its characters (as so many others have said, if I did, there would be a lot more Spamano. Even though it's totally already canon. Hello.)
WARNING FOR CHAPTER: Lovi's mouth is dirty. Italian and dirty. Just to let you know~
Seeing him up on that stage, (glistening with sweat under the bright lights, familiar fingers stroking almost tenderly over the worn strings of his guitar, voice rough and beautiful as it harmonizes with the Eyebrow bastard's, nearly dripping with sex and confidence) is the only time he is not my Spaniard. He is not Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the man who sang me Spanish love songs outside my window, the man who found a box of abandoned baby turtles and nursed them back to health, the man who I've often come home to our shared apartment to find sprawled across the couch with our tiny, orange spitfire of a kitten curled up, purring, on his chest. He is Antonio F. Carr, guitarist/backup vocals for the band Warlock and the Bad Touch Trio, one of the most amazing 22-year-old guitarists history has ever seen, international Spanish heartthrob, recognized world-wide for his fine ass almost as often as for his amazing musicality. He's beautiful, but untouchable- and yet not totally, as I catch a glimpse of my Antonio when he shoots Gilbert a wide, goofy grin in the middle of a song. My traitorous heart flutters at the first glimpse of him, not just a moving image of him on a screen, for the first time in nearly a year, and as their set comes to a close, I shove my way through the screaming crowd toward the backstage.
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Actually getting backstage is an unexpectedly difficult task; the damn maple bastard had apparently given me a pass from a past show, so the muscle-brained bodyguard refuses to move from blocking my path toward the familiar head of slightly curly brown hair I can just barely make out. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you pass. I have strict instructions from my boss not to let anyone-" I cut him off, fuming.
"Do you even know who I am, bastardo? Vaffenculo! Fili di cagna! Stronzo! Figlio di puttana-!" In the midst of my rant, I hear a familiar, joyous exclamation of my name, and I just barely have time to turn around before I'm being lifted up into strong arms and spun around. My arms instinctually wrap around my captor's neck as I simultaneously start cursing him out, threatening violence. He sets me down quickly, but pulls me into a deep kiss before I can catch my breath; I melt against him willingly, my fingers locking in his hair to keep him close. He's murmuring happily against my lips, his arms firmly around my waist, and my again-traitorous heart beats wildly in my chest as his voice reaches my ears.
"Lovi…mi querido…I am so, so glad you came…missed you so much…" I feel my face fill with heat, and a small smile pulls at my mouth unconsciously at his joy. Running my fingers through his slightly damp hair gently, words flow from me before my brain has time to filter the thoughts.
"Of course I came, you damn idiota. As if I would miss one of your concerts when you're in town... Er, I-I mean, Matt was going to drag me anyways, so I figured I'd save him the trouble..." My blush increases tenfold as he chuckles warmly, leaning down to kiss me again sweetly.
"I'm glad you missed me too, Lovino. I don't think I could have gone a single moment longer without seeing you~." I whack him upside the head gently, scowling as he merely laughs, hugging me closer for a moment before jolting slightly, his eyes brightening. "Oh! What did you think of the concert, querido?" My cheeks heat, and I look away quickly, trying to disguise the fact that I was flustered behind nonchalance.
"Meh. I've seen better. I'm just glad I didn't have to pay for the ticket- it would have been a waste of mone-iiee!" I give a (very manly) yelp of surprise as I'm suddenly airborn, quickly latching onto Antonio's neck as he gets me comfortable in his arms bridal-style; though he's attempting to act oblivious to my furious glare, his wide smirk speaks otherwise, and I pinch his ear. "Bastardo, what the hell was that for?" The look he sends me -full of heat and desire, scorching me from the inside-out, leaving me slightly breathless from its intensity- is enough to quiet my complaints, and he gives me a single, deep kiss before replying.
"We are going back to my hotel this second, and we are locking ourselves in my room, and we are not leaving that bed until the absolute last second before tomorrow's concert. Entiendes?" My face floods with heat, and I nod silently, shivering at the devilish smirk he gives me in response. "Bueno~ but first!" In a sudden-but-expected moodswing, he spins around to give the bastard of a security guard (who had just been standing awkwardly by us, unsure how to handle the situation) a blithe smile. "Excuse me, Quentin~? I would like for you to meet my boyfriend, Lovino Vargas. I should hope in the future that you would never be so silly as to prevent him from coming backstage again, si?" The man, who was probably twice Antonio's weight in pure muscle, pales and nods rapidly at the dangerous note in my Spaniard's carefree voice, stumbling out a 'yessir' before we spin back in the other direction and exit the backstage area, making a quick-but-awkward stop in the band's dressing room (that was a position I never wanted to see either the Eyebrow bastard or French pervert in, and I don't want to think about why that half-naked girl was hiding behind the couch) before catching a taxi to the band's hotel.
Needless to say, Antonio had a slight limp and a goofy grin up on that stage during the following night's concert, and I could only grin with satisfaction at seeing my Spaniard instead of the manufactured image he'd become.
AN/ Well, there you have it! Please let me know how you liked the chapter- click the spiffy blue box right below this! V V V
As always, with love-
~Spain