Inspiration has struck! So quick update for you guys! No smut though, sorry. There will be some in the next chapter though! I think!

And here's a little clarification: Romano only remembers Spain from when he was younger. He hasn't been living with him recently, nor has he seen him recently. Which is why he doesn't know if it really is Spain or not. Just thought I'd add that, so it makes more sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.


Shut up, heart, I know you're there. I bet even the neighbours can hear you right now. Ya, all the way across that field of tomato plants and grape vines. It's not like I'd change my mind right now. I'm already here. Seconds from the answer I had been looking for for the past few weeks. However at this rate, it would be days before I actually got that answer.

I was standing at the door to his house, sweaty palms clenched against my fingers. I wasn't nervous at all. Of course I wasn't. It was only the tomato bastard after all, what was there to be nervous about? The worst that would happen would be him saying I was mistaken. No wait, that would be the best thing. Yes, definitely the best thing. I didn't want it to be him, after all. That would be disaster. Complete disaster. Yup.

Well, this was going well so far. Very well. That is, if you considered standing like a statue in front of a door progress. Oh yes, I'd been standing there for about half an hour already, contemplating whether or not to ring the doorbell. It should have been a simple question, really. But nooooo, my fucking heated cheeks and sweaty hands kept betraying me. I wasn't nervous at all! It was just an instinct or reflex, or whatever you call it when your body does something you don't want it to. That's what was happening to me. You know when you start crying even though you didn't want to? That's what I felt like right now. But not sad, nervous.

Anyways. And so I stood at the doorway, like an idiot. That's exactly what I was though, expecting my fucking sexy waiter to be, in fact, a country that I hadn't seen for ten years and somehow turned out much more attractive than I remembered him to be. Though taking into account the fact that I was ten, and if I liked him that would have been really weird, since he was about twenty-five in humans years back then -actually, he still is-. All I remembered was that he had curly brown hair, and green eyes that sparkled whenever he was excited. Which was pretty much every single second of every fucking day. I also remembered he was really annoying...always tugging at my cheeks and calling me his tomato.

...That Antonio had said I looked like a tomato as well. Well. This day was just getting better.

Fuck, I'd stood at the door for at least half the morning already. Just get this over with, Romano! I sucked in a deep breath, pressing my finger on the doorbell.

...No reply. Was the bastard even home? I glanced at my watch, narrowing my eyes. Ten in the morning. If I remembered correctly, he was always home around this time. I clicked the doorbell again, my pressing starting to become more impatient as time passed. I didn't have all morning to spend on this, dammit!

With an annoyed huff, I gave the door a good kick.

...Still nothing. I was really starting to become exasperated at this point. I gripped the doorknob, turning it. Click! The door opened easily, granting me access to the interior. Wow. That was fucking easy. I should have known the bastard would have forgotten to lock his door. With an irritated sigh, I stepped into the house, slamming the door behind me. The door shuddered close, shaking as it hit the door frame violently. I'd forgotten this house was old. Not that I cared at the moment about something so trivial though.

I narrowed my eyes, looking around the place. It was pretty clean, despite it being a single man's house. But since this was Spain, I merely shrugged. Even when I was supposed to help with the cleaning and shit, he was still pretty much the only person doing any actual work. Not that I didn't want to, I was just bad at it. Well honestly, I didn't want to either. So that, plus what I said previously, equaled messy house. That is, if he hadn't been cleaning as well.

Shrugging the memories away, I headed for the stairs. Maybe he was still asleep. Knowing him, he was probably still sprawled in his bed, snoring away with a trail of drool dripping from his mouth down his pillow. He really was a lazy bastard.

I only faintly remembered where his room was, but even if I hadn't, the childish tomato stickers stuck to the door would have told me. Snorting, I kicked the door open, noticing the old hinges creaking in protest to being treated so harshly. I ignored it easily, my eyes pinned on the Spaniard dozing away on his bed. In the exact position I'd envisioned him in. Wow. Maybe I was psychic. Jokes aside, I was really pissed. A week of going to sleep at five in the morning, plus standing at the door for three hours, and him not answering the doorbell had seriously reduced the patience I had. Which wasn't much in the first place.

"Hey, Spain!" I shouted at his sleeping form, boiling with anger and weariness. But he didn't wake up. Oh no. He rolled over and buried his head into his pillow, mumbling something about turtles invading his restaurants again. My eye twitched. I reached for the nearest object -which turned out to be a table, but that was too heavy so I just took the tomato sitting atop of it- and chucked it at his head, as hard as I could. I crossed my arms as I watched the tomato explode in his hair, a somewhat satisfied smirk on my face. It didn't last though, because the idiot finally decided to wake up just then.

"...Mm? Tomatoes...? I didn't make tomato sauce last night..." he yawned, rubbing one eye while looking around the room blearily. I tapped my foot on the ground, waiting for him to notice the ruined tomato on his head and, more importantly, me. "Well, might as well make breakfast..." he mumbled to himself, still not noticing there was someone standing in the room. In fact, he hadn't noticed the tomato on his head either. I would have thought it didn't take a genius to notice their head was covered in tomato juice. Guess I was wrong.

"Ehh? What's this...?" Wow. Bastard had finally noticed the tomato after trying to comb his hair back with his fingers. I watched with rising impatience as he licked the seeds in his hand. "Tomatoes...? When did that happen?" I clenched my teeth to stop myself from snapping at the dense idiot, staring at his hand with a blank expression on his face.

"Dammit, I'm standing here you know!" I finally gave in, deciding I would probably be here for half a day before he actually saw me. Oh look, he turned around.

"...Ah, is someone th- ...Lovi?" he cut off mid-sentence, making me frown. What the hell? What's wrong with it being me? I huffed, cocking my hip.

"Ya, it's me, bastard! Took you long enough! And what's with that expression?" I added the last sentence with a scowl, noticing his eyes darken slightly as he realized it was me, Romano.

"A-Ah, Lovi, um...If you're here about th-" he started speaking, avoiding my gaze. That was really irritating.

"Look at me, dammit! And how do you know what I'm here about?!" I scowled further, not at all pleased with the situation. If he knew, that could only mean one thing...

"S-Sorry..." he laughed lightly, still refusing to meet my eyes. What the fuck? Now having completely forgotten about the tomato in his hair, he merely stood up, still looking away.

"Don't apologize, dammit! Just tell me what you mean!" I snapped before he could continue. He was really getting on my nerves, with his constant stalling.

"I have to take a shower first, but I'll talk to you after, okay? This tomato's getting sticky..." he smiled, actually looking at me this time. Oh, so he hadn't forgotten about the tomato. Maybe he wasn't a complete idiot. Still pretty close though. But I digress.

"Okay, fine, but you're telling me what the fuck you're apologizing for after you come out!" I relented, deciding I'd rather not talk to a tomato-covered Spaniard. That tomato I threw made quite a mess; he actually looked like he'd just come back from La Tomatina[1]. Actually, now that I looked more closely...I realized he was only wearing his boxers. I felt my cheeks heating up at this thought. W-Well the idea itself was perfectly normal, I mean Spain was really hot this time of year. Ha. I'm so awesome at making bad puns.

But seriously, even if I disliked him, I had to admit, he was really hot. Even I recognized that fact. The way those boxers curved against that tight ass of his...Wait. No, I was not staring at his ass just now.

"Do you need something, Lovi? I'm about to shower, so..." he looked at me with a curious expression. I stared back at him blankly for a moment, not realizing what he was hinting at. Then it hit me. He had to undress to shower. And with me in the room, that would be rather awkward. I nodded quickly, backing out of the room. I sped to his living room, staring down at the floor as I did. I was actually so embarrassed by the sudden realization I'd completely forgotten to shout at him for using that annoying nickname. I had not been checking out the Spaniard. Oh no. Definitely not.

...Okay, maybe a little. But only for a millisecond! Well, that millisecond was long enough for me to notice that his body seemed rather familiar. Too familiar. Reminiscent of that night, a week -or was it a week and a half now?- ago. I struggled with my thoughts, dreading the moment when the sound of running water stopped.

xXXx

After spending a little more time pondering what I should do depending on his answer, muted footsteps sounded from the stairs. I breathed in deeply, before letting out a long sigh. Not as stress-relieving as I'd hoped it would be, but better than nothing. This way, I could face him calmly -aka without freaking out- when he finally answered my question. A few seconds later, he settled down on the couch beside me, the ends of his hair still dripping with rapidly cooling water.

"So, what did you want to say?" I asked bluntly, not wanting to spend any more time brooding over this.

"Right...So, um, I assume you're here about...that night?" he looked away when he spoke, a hesitant note in his voice. I narrowed my eyes.

"...So it was you." I asked. Actually at this point, it was more of a statement I was expecting him to confirm. And that he did.

"The one with the bunny ears and the mask?" He dodged answering again. But I already knew what the next reply would be.

"Ya, him. That was you, right?" I spoke slowly, trying to keep our eyes locked, though failing as his kept darting nervously to the furniture in the room.

"...Yes, that was me." I could finally let out that breath I didn't realize I was holding. So that Antonio, was Spain.


[1]La Tomatina: A festival in Spain, where people basically throw tomatoes at each other. So a giant tomato fight. o uo

Yay, he finally figures out it's Spain! What shall happen next? o uo