Spain's POV

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Non, mon ami!" France grinned, straightening my tie. "You look fantastique!"

"Fantastic?" I snorted. "Right. Gracias for everything, but a suit is too much."

France had left me alone (gracias, Dios mío!) so I could shower and shave, and while I'd been busy, he had apparently cleared out all of the aguardiente bottles that had been collecting dust on my furniture and on the floor. Then we'd had a very long conversation about everything that had happened and how I should make it right. He'd also apparently just happened to have a full suit with him in his car, and after washing it and then ironing it, France helped me put it on and tie the tie, then while I combed out my hair and tried (unsuccessfully, in the end) to neaten it, he ran out to the florist and got me a bouquet of red roses to give to Romano when I saw him.

We were only a few minutes from leaving, actually. But then he dropped it on me.

"The suit is not too much. You can return it later." He turned and grabbed his car keys off of the low table by the door. "Well, I guess I'm off. I'll see you later, Spain! Bonne chance avec Romano!"

"Um. What?" I asked as he opened the front door. "You're not leaving, are you? I thought you were going to come with me to see him!"

"No! You have to do this on your own, or you'll never grow from the experience!" He acted like he was an all-knowing teacher and I was a kindergarten student.

"'Grow from the experience'?" I repeated. "Is this suddenly having to do my own math homework all over again?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips. "You can't let me try to do this alone! I'll completely screw it up!"

"No you won't, mon ami! I have complete faith in you!" he grinned, and I wondered to myself just where his mind had gone.

"So you're just going to leave."

"Oui."

"I'm going to have to do this on my own."

"Oui."

I looked at him, not angrily, but sort of incredulously. "Right. Well, see you at the bar tomorrow night, then. Usual meeting place?"

France rolled his eyes. "If you really want to come drinking with Prussia and I again, it will be a wonderful thing. But I don't think you will be trying to 'drown your sorrows' or anything. I have faith in you."

"All right, fine. Out. You've messed with me enough. It's almost six forty-five. I'm leaving at seven, right?"

"Yes! That way, you will be in Italy by the time the moon is at its height, and its light will shine down upon you like the chosen lovers! Trust me, mon copain, it will be parfait!"

I smirked at my old friend who had helped me through so much in only a few hours. "It will be a frozen dessert?"

He grinned at our old inside joke. "Oui. The most parfait of the parfaits!" And with that, he was out the door and I was alone. My smile stayed on my face for a moment before slowly slipping off. What did I do now...?

I stepped in front of the mirror hanging by the front door and inspected myself critically. The suit was fine, everything ironed crisply. The tie was bright and straight and the shoes were shiny ebony. I was, I had to admit, a little paler and thinner than the last time Romano had seen me, but I was still toned, with the same muscular build I'd had before. My eyes were a little duller, but I was sure they looked more lively than they had this morning. My hair was its normal messiness, and I let that go.

I sighed. There was no stopping it. I had to go now. I gathered up the bouquet of roses, my car keys, my cell phone and, once I'd slipped my phone into my pocket, I checked my watch. Seven-oh-two. Time to go.

I opened the door, and stepped out, looking down at where the doorknob had been, so I didn't know that there was a person there until he gasped. I looked up, shocked. It was him. Romano. My eyes widened, and his did, too. It had been so long... And it wasn't only me that changed. He looked a little paler, too, maybe a little thinner, in the waist. But he was so filled-out and lean as compared to how he'd been as a child, that it was still amazing to me to see him all grown up. I hadn't really gotten to spend much time with him as an adult, but I'd fallen in love with him in that short time - I couldn't deny that.

I felt horrendously overdressed in my suit and tie and shiny shoes. Romano was wearing old Bermuda shorts, slip-on shoes, and a yellow foorball t-shirt with what seemed to be a small tomato juice stain by the neck. We both shifted a little, analyzing the other.

"Sp-Spain..." Romano whispered, sounding shocked. His face lit up red. "Um..."

"Romano," I returned. "You're...what are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, uh..." he looked awkward, and suddenly unsure of himself. "I came to...talk."

"Talk?" I asked, curiously, wondering what he was here for, and hoping he wouldn't figure out what I was doing with a fancy suit and flowers.

". Could I, um, come in?" He looked anywhere but my eyes, where I wanted him to look, so I could guess what he was thinking.

"Yeah...I guess. Come on in." I tossed the roses onto the small table along with my keys and removed my cell phone from my pocket, tossing it aside with the other things. Then I took a seat on the closest couch, and gestured for Romano to join me. He did, slowly, making each step look purposeful and cautious.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I asked, trying to look relaxed. "It's been a while since I saw you. You still look good."

He blushed furiously. Did he still hate it when people complimented his appearance? One day he'd have to give up and realize he was attractive. "Oh...so do you. Look attractive, I mean," he babbled. "You look, um, good." Then he looked irritated, but more with himself than me.

"Did you forget something here, all those years ago?" I asked.

"No...more like I left something behind," he started hestitantly.

"What do you mean? What was it? Maybe it's still in your old room. I haven't really...well..." I paused. "I haven't been in there since you left, so I don't know what's still in there or not." I tried to talk as casually as I possibly could, struggling against my rapid heartbeat and strung-out nerves to sound friendly and hospitable, rather than nervous and full of longing as I was. I wanted to pet his hair, like I would when he was little, stroking the reddish-brown locks and arranging them.

"Well, it's not an object..." he replied slowly. "I left...um..." Finally he looked up from his hands and straight into my eyes. "I left you."

I gasped. His eye contact plus his words left me speechless for a moment. Then I blinked, and managed, "Wh-what do you mean...?"

He sighed, sounding angry. "I'd really hoped you'd just guess what I meant."

I wasn't going to get my hopes up, but if he was saying what I thought he was saying... "Do you regret going back to your brother?" I asked quietly.

He looked surprised. "Oh. No. I don't. It's better that I'm a whole country with Veneziano. But..." he hesitated. "I shouldn't have...just left. I guess I just..." His hands suddenly clenched into fists and he raised his voice. "No. I'm not going to say that it's all my fault. It's yours, too!"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, feeling a little hurt.

"Yes, I left, because it was the only thing I could do!" Romano exclaimed. "I'm Italy, too! It's not just my brother! We're two halves of a whole! I had to complete him! But you!" He got louder again. "You could have chased after me! You couldn't have stopped me, but you could have slowed me down! You could have kept me close, and you didn't. You let me go back to Veneziano and leave you. You didn't do anything!" he yelled.

"Romano-"

"No! I lived with you for most of my growing up! I had my brother, but only long-distance. I had you all the time! You were the first one - the only one - that I felt really cared for me! And then I left and you just let me. You let me just walk away like it didn't matter! Do you know how much that hurt, you bastard?" Tears formed in his eyes and I was shocked. I hadn't seen Romano cry since he was really little.

"There. Now I'm done," he said, bitterness in his voice.

I couldn't figure out what to say. I couldn't burst right in and tell him that I loved him. I got up off the couch and I felt his eyes on me as I moved over to the table by the door again, picking up the bouquet and carrying it over to him. I held it out, and it took a moment or two before he tentatively reached out and took the roses. He looked confused, but still angry, and almost suspicious.

"Today, France came to see me," I started, and Romano lifted an eyebrow. "I haven't seen him since the last world meeting. He said that he'd come to take you away from me. He was dead-serious, too. He didn't know you'd ever left. When he came in, he got really concerned. There were aguardiente bottles all over the room, most empty. The house was clean enough, but there were bottles, and old pictures and broken glass all over the place in a couple of rooms."

"You've...you've been drinking?" Romano asked, sounding concerned, too.

"A lot. I didn't realize how much. I'd get into this really bad place, sometimes," I explained. "I'd stop caring about things. I'd think about you so much that it felt painful. I wouldn't do anything, sometimes for days. But France helped me clean up, and he let me talk about it with him. I told him that I wasn't sure anymore why I'd let you go. Eventually, I remembered that it was because I thought you'd be happier. Because it was your choice to go back home to your brother. I still thought, today, that you'd be happier. I was going to go to Italy tonight, and talk to you about the same thing you wanted to talk about. I didn't know you weren't happy."

"You're damn right I'm not happy."

"I'm so sorry, Romano. I thought it was best for you. It was what you wanted. But I didn't want to let you go. And I did come after you, just once. I made it all the way to Verona before I turned back. I just wanted you to be happy. Te lo prometo."

Romano had almost immediately taken back his tears, not letting one of them fall, but tears were forming in my own eyes now, threatening to spill over. I'd always been more emotional than Romano.

"I'm sorry..." I murmured. "Lo siento..."

"Don't make me comfort you, bastard..." Romano sounded a little awkward and resigned.

"Can you forgive me, Romano?" I asked, wiping at my eyes, but not able to stop the tears.

"Forgive you? For letting me leave?" He sounded almost surprised. "When I get into my bad times, I sit in my bedroom watching paid programming and eating tomatoes by the crate. I drive Veneziano insane. So I...I forgive you. Okay? So don't cry. That's stupid."

I looked at him, wiping my eyes again. "Okay."

We slipped into silence then. It was awkward and comfortable at the same time, and I wasn't sure what to do with it. So we both just sat there, probably both of us wondering what to do... I knew what I should do.

"Romano?"

"Spain?"

We both said the other's name at the same time. We blushed and looked away. "You say what you need to say," I told him.

"No, you go first, bastard."

But I didn't. Neither of us said anything. More uncomfortable silence, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I had to say it, or I was going to die. Maybe that was a little overdramatic, but I felt on the verge of a break, with my heart beating a million times a minute.

"Te amo!" I suddenly said at the same time Romano yelled, "Ti amo!"

We looked at each other in surprise. I looked right into his eyes and he looked scared. I had never seen him looking so laid-out and vulnerable as he was now, with wide eyes and a parted mouth. His eyebrows were slowly lowering to give him a confused expression. It was cute, but I couldn't register that at the moment. Had he just said...? At the same time I had just said...?

Then Romano looked suspicious, narrowing his eyes. "Are you being serious? You'd better not be messing with me."

"S-Sí. I'm serious, Roma. I...love you. I've loved you since before you left."

Okay. There. I'd said it. I was done. No more. This was killing me. How did he feel? How was he going to respond? Was he just going to leave? But then, he'd said it, too... Or did he mean that I was like a parent or a brother to him? That's how America and England had been... Well, until they got together. Now...I shudder to think. Dios mío. I could never look at England the same way again after that one time at the bar...

Suddenly, Romano reached out and pulled me toward him, wrinkling the suit under his fingers. He held me somewhat awkwardly against him and I felt myself blushing. "Um...Romano?"

"I love you too, bastard."

I tried to look up at him, but I couldn't, from my position. He put his head down on mine, and I could feel the warmth of his cheeks on my hair.

Trying to mock him, but also trying to keep it light for fear my voice would shake, I asked, quietly, "You're not messing with me, are you?"

"No," Romano said, sounding frustrated. "I'm serious, too."

"Well, okay."

And I left it at that. I relaxed into his chest a little more, letting myself close my eyes and smile, just a little bit. I'd never expected him to show up here, and I had been pessimistic about going to talk to him in Italy, too.

"Hey, does this mean-?" I started to ask, and he interrupted.

"Yes. We're a couple. Don't make a big deal about it," he muttered, clutching a little tighter, and I could hear his embarrassment growing. "Oh, and, um, Veneziano doesn't know I'm here."

I chuckled. "What, did you climb out of your window or something?" He didn't answer. I opened my eyes. "You did?"

"Um."

I laughed. "Tu muchacho tonto." He released me enough so that I could sit up and I took his hands. "Well, you're staying here tonight. And we can sit all night and talk and eat tomatoes-"

"No!" he interrupted. "If I eat one more of those things, I think I'm going to be sick. Another time."

"Then what do you want to do?" I asked, amused.

He didn't answer. Instead, he rested his head against my shoulder, leaning on me this time. "I'd like to just stay here."

I couldn't help but grin. "Me too."

What had it taken him to come to me? Had Veneziano nagged him? Had Germany gotten onto his last nerve? Had he just missed me too much? I'd missed him, but I wouldn't admit that to anyone but France and Romano. And how was this going to work out? We'd spend half our time in Spain, half in Italy?

Romano sighed against my shoulder, and I felt him close his eyes.

Well, I guess we'd have to figure that out later. Right now, neither of us were going anywhere.

A/N: Hey. :) So yes, I'm a Spamano fangirl. I had to do something, and that little Taylor Swift songfic that they shared with GerIta wasn't enough. Certainly not. And of course, I couldn't resist but put a little GerIta and USxUK in there, too. ;D This all just goes to show that I have no life. But that's okay. With any hope, I'll be putting some USxUK up soon, so if you're interested... :D Review! And thank you for reading!

Soy dueño de nada! (I own nothing!)

Translations:

"Non, mon ami!" - "No, my friend!" (The same goes for "mon copain.")
"Bonne chance avec Romano!" - "Good luck with Romano!"

"Parfait" - "Perfect"
"Te lo prometo" - "I promise"
"Lo siento" - "I'm sorry"
"Tu muchacho tonto" - "You silly boy"