What is this? Two chapters in two days? Well, that's summer vacation for you! Don't get too used to it, though! I already had an ideo for this chapter as soon as I got the last one out. Anyway, enjoy!

Lovino woke up the next morning cuddled against Antonio. The older nation was still fast asleep, so Romano resigned himself to remain curled against his warm chest. Not because he wanted to, mind you, he just didn't want to wake the Spaniard, because Romano was just that nice. He listened to the sound of Antonio's soft breathing and felt his lover's heart beat just beneath where his head lay. It wasn't like there was anything to do. No world conferences, no pressing matters to attend to, no meetings to make… All was good.

Except that yesterday the weather man said it would rain that day. Romano hated being wet and cold, and the rain just so happened to be both wet and cold. All the more reason to stay cuddled up against the still-sleeping Antonio. He was ready to spend the entire day in bed, in just his boxers, with Antonio (as long as that idiot kept his boxers on the entire time and didn't try to do anything perverted).

And then he noticed that Antonio wasn't wearing them.

The Spaniard woke with a sharp pain as his head bounced against the floor. He sat up where he had fallen, rubbing his head gingerly. "G—good morning, Lovi," Antonio said in a pained voice. "You're quite energetic today." He yawned.

After kicking Antonio out of the bed, Lovino had pulled the blankets around him, as a kind of security against the pervert now lying on the ground. A fierce blush adorned his cheeks as he tried very hard not to check out Antonio's (sexy) body. "What the fuck? Where the hell are your clothes, you fucking pervert?" he demanded to know in a slightly shrill tone.

Antonio looked down at his body to check his clothes-less condition. "Well, it gets hot at night, and I always sleep naked at home," he said, with a smile that was oblivious to Lovino's obvious embarrassment.

"Well, put some fucking clothes on, you tomato bastard!" Lovino looked around the room for where Antonio discarded his clothes. He was so sure the Spaniard was wearing clothes when Romano (reluctantly) allowed him to stay the night.

There was a dip in the bed as Antonio got on. He leaned in close to Lovino, who blushed even harder. "What is it, bastardo?" he asked, trying as hard as he could to keep the stutter out of his voice.

Antonio smiled. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, Lovi!" he claimed, and pulled Lovino into a hug.

"I said put some fucking clothes on!" Lovino yelled, burying his face in Antonio's chest, but of course it was only to hide his red face, nothing else!

The Spaniard chuckled, stroking Lovino's head. "Whatever you say, mi tomate," he said.

"I'm serious!" And Antonio fell unceremoniously to the ground for the second time that day.

With the best sense of timing in the world, Feliciano burst into the room. "Fratello, big brother Spain, thank you so much for the pasta~! I feel much better now~!" And he tackle-hugged Antonio to show his appreciation, not noticing the man's state of undress.

Antonio smiled and stroked Feliciano's head as he had done Lovino's, sparking a pang of jealousy in Romano's heart. "Of course, Feli, anytime~!" he said, not noticing the murderous aura running off of Lovino.

Lovino, meanwhile, fought back jealousy and focused on his anger. "You fucking idiots! That tomato bastard is naked!" he yelled.

Feliciano sat back a little and noticed for the first time Antonio's lack of clothes. "Vee~? You're right, Fratello. Why are you naked, big brother Spain? Did you and—?" Feliciano's question was cut off by a pillow thrown at his head.

"Don't even fucking say it, or I'll kill you!" Lovino said.

Antonio smiled nervously. "Lovi, you should probably be quiet," he said, thinking of the neighbors now.

Lovino turned the full force of his anger to the poor Spaniard. "This is your fucking fault! Get out of my house, bastardo!" he yelled.

Next thing Antonio knew, he was thrown out the front door, still naked. The door slammed shut behind him. He pounded on the door.

"Lovi, I'm sorry! Please let me back in!" he cried.

The door opened, but only for his clothes to be thrown out. "And don't come back, tomato bastard!" Lovino yelled the second the door was slammed shut again.

Antonio dressed quickly, before he could be arrested for public nudity. "I won't leave until you forgive me, mi little tomate! I'll wait for you!" he called. There wasn't a response, but he knew Lovino was probably just inside the door, listening. He smiled and sat down, preparing for a long wait as the two stubborn personalities struggled. It was a test of love!

Meanwhile, Romano was trying very hard to forget Antonio's vow to remain outside the door until he was forgiven. He didn't doubt Antonio would actually do it—it was something that idiot would stick to. So Romano settled down to ignore it. He flopped down on the couch, turned on the TV, and made the volume sky-high. It wasn't to drown out Antonio's yelling, because that idiot had fallen silent. It was to drown out Feliciano's annoying crying. His younger brother was upset that Lovino had gotten rid of his "big brother Spain", and that the two were fighting. Instead of yelling back at the crying Italian, and making things worse as he usually did, he uncharacteristically ignored it, hence why he was watching TV.

He didn't even know what he was watching. Images and words just wrapped around his brain then filtered back out through his ears without making much of an impression, besides the throbbing headache that was accumulating because of all that noise.

"Mierda!" he swore loudly, flipping off the TV in resignation. Silence met his ears. Feliciano must have worn himself out from all that crying and had fallen asleep. Perfect. Lovino stretched out on the couch, attempting to fall asleep as well, but something in the back of his mind was nagging him to stay awake. It was that damn Spaniard. He just couldn't stop thinking about that smiling idiot long enough to relax. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Guilt wormed its way into his stomach. No, it wasn't guilt. It couldn't be guilt, because Romano was never guilty! It was all that tomato bastard's fault. Antonio should be the one feeling guilty, not him. The feeling must be hunger. Of course it was hunger! Romano hadn't eaten yet that day, because of that idiot. Nope, it just couldn't be guilt.

Chewing on his lip, Lovino hoisted himself up and wandered into the kitchen. He heard the soft tap of rain on the window. A wicked grin spread over his face. Luck must be on his side today, because Antonio hated being wet and cold almost as much as Lovino did! It reminded the Spaniard too much of the suffering defeat of the Spanish Armada, that cold day on the ocean, and the subsequent tortures Arthur forced him to endure. If the rain kept up, then Antonio would surely go home. He just knew it.

Reassured that soon the Spaniard would be home and out of his mind, Lovino focused on finding something to eat. Normally on days like these, when Antonio stayed over, the older nation would make churros for breakfast. Fresh off the stove, still warm, covered in cinnamon and sugar… Lovino found himself drooling, longing for those warm sticks that Antonio would have made. Antonio… Maybe he should let Antonio back in so he could make those delicious…

No!

Lovino shook his head to snap himself out of the daze. The Spaniard must be home already, or at least going home! The rain had picked up its wild tempo, and there was no way Antonio would put himself through the torture of enduring it. Through sheer willpower, Lovino forced himself to forget Antonio and had some left-over pasta instead.

After he ate, he went back to the couch to take a nap. After a couple hours of fitful rest, Lovino decided that he wasn't going to sleep peacefully like this. He got up after yet another broken dream and went to turn some music on. Music always helped him to clear his head.

And it worked, until a certain song came on: Danse Macabre by Saint-Saenz.

The beginning was hard enough to listen to. The twelve strokes—midnight—then the quiet, stalking notes that sounded so much like someone creeping up on their prey. He forced himself to just let the music flow through him, but if you've listened to this song before, you'd know it's difficult to not be affected by it. Usually he loved the song, enjoying the full seven minutes, just imagining an entire graveyard of skeletons dancing to the tune of the devil's violin. But today, it brought dark thoughts, doubts, to his mind.

What if Antonio was still there?

No, no, no, he couldn't be. The tomato bastard was an idiot, but not that much of one.

But he vowed to remain until Lovino had forgiven him, right?

But it was fucking raining outside!

Didn't Antonio always say how much he loved Lovino, and that he'd do anything for the small Italian?

But Antonio hates the rain! It makes him completely miserable!

But Antonio always put up with Lovino's violence.

Even if Antonio was still outside, that was his problem! That idiot should learn to take care of himself, first!

It's been hours since the rain started…

By the end of the song, Lovino was completely on edge. He stroked his curl nervously, not feeling any of the heat it usually sent right to his gut. Antonio couldn't still be outside, could he? That would just be torture.

"Mierda! That bastard is a fucking masochist!"

Lovino gave in and ran to the door to see if Antonio was still there, waiting.

Antonio was. He was curled in a ball, just to the side of the door, his clothes soaked through. It broke Lovino's heart to see his lover sitting there, looking like a kicked puppy. Worse still, Antonio was trembling, whether it was from cold or fear of whatever memories he had, Lovino had no idea.

"Why are you still here, you idiot?" Lovino sounded angry, more at Antonio's disregard for his own health than anything.

Antonio gave a weak smile, still shivering hard. "I p—promised I'd w—wait until you f—f—forgave me," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sneezed and Lovino was by his side immediately.

"Idiot, you caught yourself a cold, I bet! And you made me have to come out in the rain to get your sorry ass!" Lovino complained, although there was tenderness in the insults that made Antonio's smile grow.

"Sorry, Romanito," he said, as Lovino helped Antonio to his feet and brought him inside.

"Shut up, idiot," Lovino said softly.

Once inside, Lovino helped Antonio strip off his dripping wet clothes. Sitting the Spaniard on the couch, he tossed him a towel. "If you dry off, I'll let you sleep in my bed until you're not sick anymore," he said. Although he made it sound like is was a deal made grudgingly, Antonio knew that Lovino would let him sleep in the bed even if he was still soaked through.

Lovino went into the kitchen to prepare something hot for the clammy idiot while he dried off. While it was heating up, he returned to help Antonio into his room. He tucked the Spaniard into bed.

"This is the second time you're naked in my bed, you bastard," Lovino pointed out affectionately, smoothing Antonio's damp hair from the older nation's pale face without really thinking about what he was doing.

Antonio smiled. "Aw, you're so cute, Lovi~." There was a definite drop in the amount of energy Antonio put into his compliments.

Lovino blushed as he realized he'd done so cheesy without thinking. "Sh—shut up! You're lucky you're sick, or I'd kill you, tomato bastard!" And he ran out of the room.

The smile never left Antonio's face. "Lovi is so cute," Antonio remarked out loud.

Minutes later, Lovino was back with a bowl of steaming soup on a tray, with a glass of orange juice. "Here, tomato soup, so you get better quickly." He set the tray carefully on Antonio's lap.

"Gracias, Lovi~!" Antonio said. He grabbed the spoon and attempted to maneuver it to his mouth. He was still shivering so badly that the spoon threatened to dump its contents into his lap. Lovino quickly removed it from those trembling hands.

"Here, I'll do it for you," he said, a blush reddening his face.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Lovi!"

"Sh—shut up! This is just because I don't want you getting my blankets all ruined with the soup because you can't eat by yourself!" he said.

"Whatever you say, Lovi~!"

Lovino chose to ignore Antonio after that and to focus on feeding him. After the bowl was empty, he helped Antonio to drink the juice; then took the tray back into the kitchen.

"Lovi~!"

"What is it?" Lovino asked with voice still soft.

"Take a nap with me~! It's cold!"

Antonio was expecting the Italian to put up more of a fight, and say something about not wanting to get sick. Surprisingly, Lovino gave in right away. "Fine, since it'll make you get better more quickly if I'm there to warm you up," he said.

"Yay, te amo, Lovi~!" he said as Lovino got under the blankets beside him.

They curled up together, much like they had been that morning. Lovino traced circles on Antonio's bare, still clammy chest. "I love you, Toni, so don't do stupid things like freaking yourself out and getting sick anymore ok?" Lovino said.

"I'll do anything for you, Lovi," he whispered back. He could tell how deeply Lovino was affected by his demonstration from the complete lack of insults or cuss words in his statement.

"Then take care of yourself… Idiot." And Lovino curled closer, nestling in close to Antonio. They fell asleep with their fingers intertwined.