Hey. I know it's been a while (I'm sorry) and this chapter is a bit shorter than the first two (also sorry) and not very much happens (once again, sorry), but it's been the end of the school year and very stressful. Now that school's over, though, and I don't have to worry about much, I hope to update this a little faster. :D I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

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Lovino opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the ceiling, a perfect white, kind of like paper. He then understood that it was morning, and then that he had a headache. Had he gotten drunk? But no, it wasn't a hangover headache. It was…wait…he was in a hotel…then it was morning and he had to go do something…what was it? He took a deep breath, blinking a few times. Then he rolled his head to the side, looking at the bright red numbers of the alarm clock. 10:34, they read. His hand came up to rub one of his eyes.

Suddenly, he froze. At first the number didn't register, but then somewhere in the back of his mind a realization came flooding over him. The second part of the meeting was today, wasn't it? When did he need to be there? Germany had said something along the lines of…oh shit. Shit shit shit.

He jumped up, nearly leaping out of bed. How could he have slept in that late, to already be late for the meeting? What had he done to make himself so tired? Maybe he had been drinking or…or…

"Aaaah…" he groaned, resting his head against the wall. Spain and France. And him, sitting there crying like some kind of little bitch. Dammit. He closed his eyes, standing against the wall for a second. Maybe going to the meeting wasn't on his agenda today, not with Spain sitting right across from him the entire time. Wasn't it just yesterday that he had been ecstatic just to be anywhere near the older country? Now he was like the plague, and Lovino'd had enough of that already. Anyway, France would be there too, and he'd be sure to hold the whole situation over Lovino's head.

It would be stupid not to go, though, just because of a little drama. America and England went to meetings after their big war, right? Austria and Hungary still went after their divorce. It was no big deal, he'd just have to stop staring and ignore everyone. He did that anyway, so it shouldn't be too big a deal. Maybe he'd talk with Feliciano, unless he was with the potato bastard. With all of his reassurances, though, Lovino couldn't help but recall the emotions from the night before. He also couldn't help recalling how Spain had actually kissed him. Like, a proper kiss. A full-on lips to lips kiss and…damn him.

Lovino also couldn't help but wonder if Spain had really gone to bed with France after the…events that had transpired. He was horny half the time so that was probably the case. It was a bit too much for Lovino to imagine Spain and France…together…but it really was like they were made for each other. Both were assholes and both couldn't keep it in their pants. Dammit. Lovino felt his nose starting to sting again. He wasn't going to cry over whoever the hell Spain slept with. That was taking it a bit far, even for him. What he needed to do was get over this.

He glanced at the clock again, taking in how much time he had. Negative time, really. He decided to go take a shower, at the least. It wasn't like he could be late and smell bad too. That wouldn't exactly be good for his image. Especially for Spain. Dammit. Stupid-ass Spain. It wasn't Lovino's fault that the older man had to be so sexy and…goddammit.

Life had to be so unfair. Lovino padded into the bathroom, eyes down. Taking a towel from the rack in the corner he launched it over the edge of the rod holding the shower curtain up. He turned on the water, slipping off his boxers and waiting for it to warm up. He held a hand underneath the stream, opening and closing his fist. After a moment it was deemed suitable and he stepped into the shower, immediately letting his head fall underneath the showerhead and directly in the path of the spray. He held it that way for a second, not actually caring about the stupid international meeting or anything else but where he was at that moment. Usually showers were just a hassle needed to keep clean, but now he was cherishing every second spent there.

A good half an hour later he emerged, towel wrapped around his waist. The mirror on the opposite side was completely fogged up, so he couldn't see himself. Taking one hand he cleared a spot in the center, examining his unclear reflection. It was something he always did, like a kind of routine. He tried to stop his hair from plastering to his head, and then he leaned over the sink to drag his finger through the undisturbed fog. He wrote, in uneven, choppy letters, "Antonio." Then (subconsciously, of course) he drew a heart around the name. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating erasing it. Then he decided that nobody would be in his room to see it before it disappeared, so he'd have nothing to worry about.

He dried off his hair as much as possible with a second towel. He'd always been rather modest, despite his reputation. Even alone he didn't like to walk around completely naked. After his hair was sufficiently dry and put into place, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the room.

It was, comparatively, probably the last thing he would have ever expected when he saw Spain lying on his bed, reading a magazine.

He froze, eyes wide. At first it seemed like the older man hadn't seen him, and Lovino tried to back up quietly. When Spain's eyes met his, though, it was too late. He sat up, closing the magazine and setting it to the side. Lovino clutched the towel wrapped around his waist and melted into the wall, as though trying to pretend he wasn't there. Spain, of course, wasn't buying it.

"You," Spain started, examining Lovino, "You weren't trying to hide, were you?"

Lovino blinked. What was Spain talking about? He swallowed. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"From me. You weren't trying to hide from me after…you know…" Spain trailed off, looking the most awkward he had in...well, since the night before. So it was just an awkward week, then.

"No," Lovino said sharply, harsher than he'd expected. "Why the hell would I do that?"

Spain didn't flinch or anything. He was used to Lovino's attitude, and now he was just staring at the younger man inquisitively.

"Then why are you still here?"

"I fucking slept in. Didn't know that was a crime."

Spain sighed, pursing his lips. "Okay. So, you're going?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't you be there already?" It was surprisingly easy to talk to Spain, even though he didn't particularly want to. Subconsciously, Lovino searched Spain's neck for any red marks. He didn't immediately see any, so for a second the conversation was smoother.

"I left to go find you. Do you mind if I take you there?"

"It's just down the elevator."

"I know…" Spain looked down for a second, breaking their eye contact for the first time. "I wanted to talk to you."

Lovino considered his options. He could either be mad at Spain and miss spending some time with him, or he could swallow his pride and let Spain walk him down. It was a tough decision. He was really surprised at how unemotional he felt. It wasn't like him at all just to be able to get over something like this so quickly.

"Hell, why not?"

Spain smiled, and Lovino forced himself not to. Was it really like the night before hadn't happened? Dammit, no, it had. And Lovino was being stupid and letting Spain get off way to easy about this whole thing. Stupid France. He always had to fuck things up, didn't he? It was just in his nature, to go screwing with other people's lives. He probably said all that stuff just to get Lovino riled up. At least, that's what the young Italian man told himself.

"You gotta get out of here, though. I need to get dressed."

Spain didn't move. "I don't mind."

"Ha ha, funny. Out."
Spain feigned innocence. "Why?"

Lovino sighed sharply. "Whatever. Just stare at the wall or read your dumb magazine or something."

"I can think of a few things I'd rather stare at."

Lovino tried to force down a blush. Spain was just flattering him, the bastard. He watched Spain carefully as he went to the little closet where he'd hung everything up. Glancing back to Spain (who was reading his magazine again, facing the headboard), he quietly removed the suit jacket, leaving just the deep red dress shirt. He carefully took it off of the hanger before realizing he was missing something. Feeling kind of stupid but not showing it, he went back to the suitcase open on the floor and took out some underwear. Couldn't forget that.

He went back to the little alcove with the closet, changing as fast as possible out of his towel. He started to grab the pants when he felt something brush his hip. Both of them, actually. He stopped, eyes wide, as he realized that it was in fact Spain who had his hands on the younger man's hips, and it was in fact Spain who was standing right behind him and he was in fact really only wearing underwear.

Immediately he flushed red, looking at the floor. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he asked, but there was only bewilderment in his voice.

"Just standing."

"Um…I…uh…" Now came the sudden burst of fantastic articulation Lovino recieved whenever Spain was nearby. Damn him.

"By all means, don't stop for me."

The hairs on Lovino's neck prickled as he felt Spain breath. It was so close to his ear that it was killing him. He didn't move, waiting for Spain to do something. Anything; it really wouldn't matter anymore. Everything was speeding along for too fast for Lovino to catch up. Yesterday Spain had just been a far-off vision…and then he was an asshole…and now he was fucking sexy as hell and right behind him. Dammit.

"Lovi…"

"Stop it!" Lovino broke out of Spain's grasp, lurching forward and then whirling around to face the other man. "I don't know what the hell the past day has been for you, but for me it's been pretty shitty. Now, if you would just go and leave me alone for two seconds I think today might not suck as much."

Spain stared at Lovino for a second. Then his eyes softened, and a small smile faded into his expression. "Lovi…I'm sorry."

"Dammit, don't start apologizing."

"No, I'm really sorry. I'll go."

"Come on, don't do that again."

"It's okay."

Lovino watched as Spain started out the door. He didn't stop the other man this time, too confused. Spain was really trying hard at this whole gentleman-thing, wasn't he? He was probably trying to make up for the night before, being all courteous and getting out of Lovino's way. It was fucking irritating, and Lovino stared at the door for a second.

He groaned suddenly, holding his forehead. He swayed side to side for a second before falling heavily onto the bed. Immediately, he felt something sticking into his back. He sat up, feeling the magazine below him. It was the one that Spain had been reading. He picked it up, and he started to read from where Spain had been. It was open to an article about…Lovino swallowed…how to fix a damaged relationship.

He started reading.

Relationships are delicate things, and we can all probably say that at some point in our lives we have fouled one to the point where it seems irretrievable. We've said the wrong things, we've done something to make the other person upset and we don't know how to fix it. Maybe we've ignored them, maybe we made them feel like they weren't very special, maybe they feel like we used them. No matter how the distrust and betrayal came about, there are a few ways to help get it on the path to becoming right again.

Lovino read the passage again, blinking a few times. It was about then that he should have been blushing, or maybe he should have gone to talk to Spain…but he didn't feel that. In fact, he realized something that had been plaguing the back of his mind for the past few minutes. He didn't feel anything. Just…just indifference. Complete disregard for anything that Spain did. He may have been grieving more than he realized.

That kind of scared him, the fact that he could have emotions that he wasn't aware of. Or, rather, a surprising lack of emotions when he was usually so easily moved or pissed off. Even before, when Spain had been so close behind him, the feeling hadn't been the same. Not to say that he didn't still…have those feelings for the other country. He did. They just…they didn't seem as important.

Lovino got dressed quickly, leaving the magazine article open. He kept thinking, contemplating why the hell he didn't find it touching, or nice, or something. Something at all would have been nice. When he was ready, he straightened his collar and quickly brushed his hair. He wanted to look nice, as usual. Some subtle ploy to get Spain to notice him, perhaps…and since when had he been so self-aware?

"Why is today so weird?" he asked out loud, but it wasn't really out loud because the sound only reached his own ears. Why did he feel so indifferent? He'd been sobbing, bawling his eyes out the night before, but now he was just going on like nothing had happened. But it had happened, and now he was analyzing everything around him. That was the difference. He was making sure everything was exactly as it appeared to be.

He pushed the thought to the back of him mind as he started out of his room and down the carpeted hallway. In just a few minutes he reached the elevator and went down. He looked around, his eyes finding a poster about some attraction in the city. It was a restaurant or a resort or something…whatever it was it had palm trees and a big porch. Costa Rica tourism. Oh.

It was just a second before the elevator doors opened again and he was on the ground floor. Down another hallway and to the right and there was the door to the meeting hall. He looked down at his watch only to realize that he wasn't wearing a watch. Well, maybe he wasn't so self-aware.

He carefully turned the doorknob and pushed into the room. His entrance was met with very little fanfare, and he simply took his seat. Switzerland was giving a presentation (again? Or was this is first time?) but nobody really noticed Lovino's appearance. As he sat down, he started to glance around at the other people. It was only as he watched them all reading papers or writing that he realized that his briefcase was still in his room. Dammit. First he comes late, then he's unprepared…

He looked over at Greece's papers. The muscular man was fast asleep, his head leaning back on the chair. Lovino figured he wouldn't be missing anything, so he shifted some of the packets over so he could see them easier. It was then that he decided that he wasn't actually all that interested, so he pushed them back and crossed his arms.

Now was the time for him to scan everyone yet again. His eyes flicked from person to person, giving half of them no second though. When his eyes passed over France, however, he saw something that intrigued him. A dark splotch on his cheek looked horribly out of place, but it was there. A bruise. Now, there were only a few ways that someone got a bruise on their cheek. One was falling onto a door. Another was standing up into the underside of a piano with your head to the side (not that Lovino had ever done that or anything.) A more common way was being punched. By the looks of it, hard.

Lovino stopped watching France to look down at his hands on the table. So someone punched France out. Asshole deserved it. It was about time, too. Lovino was surprised that something like this hadn't happened so much earlier.

Invariably, his eyes drifted to Spain again. The curly-haired country was looking up at Switzerland, but the look on his face was different than before, darker. He was…scowling, wasn't he? Lovino stared for a moment, eyes widening as a sudden realization came over him.

He'd never seen Spain angry before. Never…not once in his life had he ever seen him angry. Annoyed, maybe, but it was always a pleasant kind of annoyed. Stressed, yes…confused, yes…disgusted, yes…but angry? He racked his brain for any moment. Any fraction of a moment. Nothing came up. Not from his days at Spain's house, not from any of the interaction they'd had afterward…absolutely nothing.

But now, as Spain thought Lovino wasn't watching, he was scowling and looking really angry at something or other. Maybe it was just the light, or maybe…but no, Lovino knew it, and he couldn't take his eyes away. He analyzed every mark, every crevice, every line on Spain's face, embedding the expression in his memory.

But, as soon as it happened, Spain turned his eyes away, and they met Lovino's. Immediately the thin line of his lips formed into a full smile, his hard eyes melting. The breath caught in Lovino's throat. The change was so sudden. He blinked a few times, unsure of what to make of the situation. When Spain looked away again, the pleasant expression remained on his face. He visibly relaxed. It was so completely strange, foreign…and Lovino wondered why he'd never noticed it before.

Really, though, he was being so analytical of everything he saw. Maybe Spain was just happy to see him, or he was tired…there were a million other possibilities. Maybe it didn't have to do with Lovino at all. He looked down at the table again. Switzerland droned on, nearly as boring as Austria. In fact, the only real difference between their speeches was the greater abundance of violent threats in Switzerland's.

Lovino closed his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head on his hands. Shit, he was tired. He hadn't managed to look at a clock the entire previous night, but all of the really heavy stuff had to have happened sometime around three or four in the morning. That coupled with the sleeplessness he usually suffered from made for far too little sleep to run on. Spain's scowling face kept reappearing in his mind before at some indeterminate point he lost consciousness.

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So Spain's been hiding something hurhur~ This is a fairly crappy chapter but I hope that it isn't so bad :)

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