Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or favorited! You guys are amazing :)
So this is the Spamano chapter and PruAus is coming soon!
Please review! They mean sooo much to me, maybe too much. I NEED THEM.
If I was dying, and I got a review, I'd die happy. I need reviews like Romano needs Spain... you don't want me to be a Romano without his Spain? A Prussia without his awesome. I'm Prussia, do you want me to live my life without awesome? Nobody wants that.
Antonio x Lovino:
"My name is Dr. Elizaveta Héderváry," the psychiatrist smiled as she introduced herself.
"It's wonderful to meet you, I'm Antonio Carriedo," smiled back an extremely handsome Spanish man as he shook her hand. "And this is my," he began but stopped cold as he caught a glimpse of his Italian partner glaring at him. "This is Lovino Vargas," he corrected sadly.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both," she grinned as she attempted to shake the Italian's hand. He simply stared at back at her until she awkwardly retracted her hand.
"So, you two are..." Elizaveta began, pointing in between the two of them.
"Human? Yes," Lovino remarked.
"No, I wanted to know what type of relationship you two are in."
"He's Antonio. I'm Lovino. That's our relationship."
"So then why are you here?" she asked, keeping an eye on the sulking Italian.
"Nothing," snapped Lovino. "We don't need your fucking therapy. I'm not some girl who's going to sit here and cry about their feelings. We should just go," he declared, but he didn't move. Antonio watched him and turned to Elizaveta.
"Lovino just gets so angry all the time," he said.
"It's because you fucking piss me off, you tomato bastard!"
"And he's got a mouth on him. A cute mouth that I love to death but sometimes he says the nastiest things," Antonio explained.
"Don't fucking talk about me! I can speak for myself!" the Italian yelled.
"Well, why don't you?" asked the therapist. "Why are you so angry?"
"Don't just fucking spring questions on me! Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Come on Lovi, don't yell at her. She's just doing her job," claimed Antonio, resting a hand on the Italian's shoulder. Elizaveta watched in amazement as Lovino sank back in his seat next to the Spaniard. He quietly grumbled something about being called Lovi, but the therapist was far too busy writing down notes. After scribbling down some key points, she looked up at the couple. Lovino was still far too angry for his own good, but Antonio had a huge grin on his face, like he was on top of the world.
"Why are you so happy?" asked the psychiatrist, curious.
"What's not to be happy about?" the tanned man smiled.
"You see? That's his fucking problem! He's always so damn happy! You can't trust a man who's always smiling; it isn't normal! Normal people aren't that happy!" spat Lovino. The psychiatrist looked at the sulking Italian and then at the Spaniard, expecting some sort of retort or at least some consequence of Lovino's harsh words. There was none. Not in the slightest. Antonio kept on grinning like he was the luckiest man in the world. Even Elizaveta had to admit that it was creeping her out a little.
"Why are you so happy?" she asked again, avoiding Lovino's gaze as he stared daggers.
"The world is so full of misery," explained Antonio. "Smiling can make the world seem a little less harsh." Elizaveta blinked a few times, she had never thought of that. She quickly jotted the word -optimist- down by Antonio's name.
"Who the hell talks like that? Smiling for no reason is stupid and makes you look like a bumbling idiot!" Lovino shot back. The therapist pressed her lips together and marked -PESSIMIST- near the Italian's name. She looked up at him and he glared at her. She glanced back at her notepad and circled the word.
"We're not going back," claimed Lovino as he and Antonio got ready for the beach. He was in the bathroom, while the Spaniard was in bedroom preparing a backpack with towels and other shit people brought to the beach.
"Aw come on, it's not that bad," admitted Antonio.
"Are you fucking stupid? That bitch just came out of nowhere with those questions and expected me to answer them? Sorry princess, that's not how I roll," snapped Lovino.
"How you roll?" Asked Antonio quizzically, poking his head into the bathroom. "Have you been hanging out with Alfred?"
"Shut up, dickhead! As if I would consult with that burger loving idiot!" The Italian yelled, blushing slightly. "You know what I meant," he declared pushing past the tanned man in the doorway so he could go sit on the bed. Antonio turned to face him.
"Um, why are you wearing that?" The Spaniard asked, surveying Lovino's outfit. The Italian looked down at his clothes, swim trunks, a white undershirt and flip flops.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"The undershirt? I mean are you going to wear that in the water? It must be uncomfortable," Antonio stated. "I think you'd better remove it." Lovino blinked a couple of times before forming a scowl. You want me to take off my shirt? Why? So your six-pack can look even more defined Mr. I don't have time for the gym but I look like a god anyway? Well you can take your long ass name and shut it because I'm not taking it off! Standing shirtless like an idiot, looking sexy as fuck—I mean like a stupid person that does stupid, um, things! Ha! Didn't see that coming did ya? What was I think about? Oh yea, this stupid Spaniard trying to tell me what to do! Where does he get the nerve?
"You're seriously telling what to wear? Maybe I wanted to shield myself from the sun, did you think of that? Huh? Or is that what you want? To walk along the beach shirtless, while the sun slowly kills me! Well tough tomatoes, you bastard, you're not going to kill me today!" The Spaniard looked at his boyfriend in extreme confusion. That's right, you ass-hat! Your plan's been ruined!
"Why didn't you just put on sunscreen if you're so afraid of the sun?" he asked gently. Lovino blushed slightly and averted Antonio's gaze. Afraid of the sun? I'm not afraid of anything! How dare he? What's with the sudden interest in sunscreen? I know what it does! I swear to God this guy is trying to make me look like a damn idiot.
"Who said I was afraid of the sun? Do I look like a fucking coward? I just don't like applying that shit, it's gross!"
"I could do it for you," suggested Antonio, grabbing the bottle and stepping closer to the Italian. Lovino quickly took a step back.
"Um no, that's okay."
"Don't be ridiculous," smiled Antonio, his green eyes lighting up as he chuckled slightly.
"Don't touch me," Lovino warned as he moved back even more.
"I'm not going to let you get sunburned," the Spanish man said calmly, walking forward.
"Get back!" the Italian screamed retreating a little faster. He tripped and landed on his bed but he hopped right back up. "I'm serious, you freak. Stay away!" That dumbass Spaniard almost got me hurt! I swear to God rooming with him is more dangerous that staying with Feli!
"Let me just apply the sunscreen," Antonio reasoned. "So you can take off the undershirt and we can go."
"I don't need sunscreen," he insisted.
"Of course you do," the Spaniard claimed. "I'm tanner than you and I still risk getting burned."
"That's because you're fucking weak. I never burn!"
"Really?" Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," Lovino said slowly, somewhat rethinking his assertion. I dare the sun to try to burn me! I don't even think it's possible. The thing's like a fucking millions of miles away, you Spanish bastard! What do you know?
"Well, if you're sure," Antonio shrugged.
"Damn right, I'm sure," Lovino spat back.
"Then, can you please apply it for me?" Antonio smiled, looking at his boyfriend through his chocolate bangs. "I can't do it without help."
"Of course I can-wait, what?"
"Can you rub sunscreen on my back?" he asked again, his green eyes lighting up a little. What is this some sort of porno? Why would I want to rub sunscreen all over him? Step back, you psycho, I'm not falling for any of your tricks! But how do I get out of it? I just have to come up with the perfect excuse so he doesn't think he intimidates me. Because he doesn't. Not in the slightest. At all. Nope. Couldn't care less about those toned abs or those impossibly green eyes or that wonderful-no! Don't care. Shit, he's staring at me. What should I say?
"My hands are broken," the Italian claimed flatly. Smooth. He won't suspect a thing.
"What?" asked Antonio, his eyes filling with concern. He walked over to the Italian and tried to check out his hands but Lovino jerked them away. When he noticed Lovino blushing lightly, he chuckled. "Aw, Lovi, that's so cute. After all this time, I still make you nervous."
"I'm not fucking nervous around anyone!"
"It's ok," Antonio assured, picking up the phone. "Francis isn't that far from here, I could just ask him."
"What? There's no way you're doing that!"
"Why? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
"That's not the point. I'm your boyfriend! I don't want him rubbing his little French hands all over you."
"Little French hands?"
"This is why I can't talk to you! I call you my boyfriend and you only focus on Francis!"
"Since you're my boyfriend, then why don't you apply it for me?"
"Didn't I just tell you my hands are broken? I fucking say one thing and you just fucking ignore me! Why the hell do I even bother?"
"So you won't pass the sunscreen for me?
"Hell no!"
"And I can't get Francis to do it?"
"Over my dead body!"
"Lovino, what do you want?" Antonio sighed. What do I want? WHAT DO I WANT? What kind of fucking question is that? I give up! I fucking give up! Why do I even put up with this bastard? He's as slow as... I don't give a fuck, something that's really slow!
"I want you to stop being such a pansy ass motherfucker and figure out how to apply sunscreen yourself!" Lovino grabbed his room key and swiftly walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
"Él es tan lindo cuando está enojado," (He's so cute when he's mad) Antonio smiled to himself as he followed his boyfriend out.