~~ Romano's POV~~

Romano woke up and looked around the room in confusion. He had no idea where he was. Oh, god. He ran to the window and looked out at tomato fields… Okay, for being kidnapped this was not too god damn bad. He could grab some tomatoes and get home.

He froze as he heard a shower stop in the next room, shit! The man, Antonio walked out of the bathroom, completely uncovered and smiled, "hola, Lovi!"

"Where did you bring me to, damn bastard?"

His smile shrunk a bit and he looked a little hurt, "I brought you to my home since you went unconscious."

"YOU DRUGGED ME DAMMIT!"

"Si, but there's someone after you."

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN, DAMMIT!"

Spain walked over to the desk in the room and threw a file onto the bed towards Romano, "I'm just keeping you safe, mi tomate."

Romano kept an eye on him and opened the file, he looked down and stared at the strange masked guy. He frowned, he had seen that guy before. He had been in Italy and had gotten Feliciano all excited about the fucking trip to Miami in the first place.

"He's a serial killer, Lovi. He carefully plans his kills and goes looking for brothers to get. He almost killed two of my friends a couple months back."

"Shut up."

"They only made it out alive because another one of our friends was going over to his house to get his piano back. He managed to shoot the Turk in the shoulder-"

"I said shut up! Dammit, I'm looking at this stupid folder."

Spain sat down at the desk, and Romano flipped through what little information that was there. There wasn't much on the guy. "Lovino?"

"What," he looked up at the Spaniard and hissed, "God, put on some damn clothes!"

Spain smiled and opened the closet in the room, pulling out some clothes at random and putting them on. Romano frowned as he found that the clothes only emphasized the broad shoulders and the sun kissed tan that the nation had. Damn it.

"So where is Feliciano?"

"Hm?" Spain looked over at him and Romano jumped up in shock and fury.

"YOU FORGOT TO GRAB MY BROTHER? WHAT KIND OF COP ARE YOU?"

"Oh, no. Another member of my force picked him up and is watching after him."

Romano looked up at him, "who? He doesn't do well with strangers. Hell, he hardly does well with people he knows."

"Ludwig Beilschmidt is watching after him."

Romano stared at him, "what?"

"Germany is watching after your brother. He was fully conscious through the whole trip to his safe house."

"THAT POTATO BASTARD HAS MY BROTHER? ARE YOU INSANE?"

Spain sighed and leaned against the doorway, "Germany knows your brother and gets along with him, something that I don't have."

"Couldn't you get someone else to take him?"

Spain blinked and thought about it for a minute, leaving Romano to try and stamp down his temper. It was a failed attempt, but no one could say he didn't try. Spain bit his lip, "we could have had Hungary take him to a different safe house…"

"Argh, she'd only dress him up in girl clothes. Fucking pansy." Romano stood up and glared at the man. "So do you have some damn clothes for me or am I suppose to just wear this the whole damn time?"

Spain smiled at him, "I put your clothes in the closet over there."

"With your stuff?"

"Si! You are taking everything so well. Gilbert had me fearing that you would be so stubborn. Oh, but you don't talk to him, do you? I should not have taken his words so seriously." He laughed and left the room.

Romano frowned after him, stubborn? He could be a little one minded, but he wasn't stubborn. He could be reasonable if he wanted to. He opened the closet and found his clothes freshly washed and hung up. Damn, how long had he been out? He pulled his clothes off the hook and put them on. He sniffed them, why did they smell so damn weird?

He fumbled with the front buttons and walked down the stairs, walking into the kitchen where the Spaniard was cooking. He smiled at him and Romano felt his face turn red. Damn, the guy was getting on his nerves. He sat down and glared at the happy man and gave the phone a glance, "am I allowed to talk to my brother?"

"Um…" Spain looked at the phone and frowned a bit, "I don't know…"

"WHAT? What does that mean? Am I or not?"

Spain picked up a cell phone from the table and dialed something in, "hola! Lovi wants to talk to his brother. Is Feliciano in the safe house with Germany…" He listened to someone on the other end and Romano stood up in a huff. He grabbed the phone away from the man.

"Hey, I wanna talk to my brother, dammit."

"Hey there, well, you're gonna have to wait. Feli and West are still traveling to the safe-"

"I don't care give a shit! Give me that potato bastard's number!"

"Look pipsqueak, I will let you talk to him later, but if you try to call him now, you could ruin the whole operation~"

"LET ME TALK TO HIM~"

"SHUT UP! Gott, just shut up. You don't get it do you? This guy after you two is not some priss, he's got two hackers that know how to play the system. Sadiq himself is a butchering monster. He doesn't just kill you, he carves you to pieces. So you can just shut up and sit tight while my brother gets yours into a safe house; I'm not going to risk my bruder and yours just to get on your good side."

Romano felt his whole face turn red and tears spring into his eyes, Spain wrapped his arms around him and slowly took the phone. Romano couldn't move as he listened to Antonio, "Gilbert, don't talk to Lovi like that again. Call us back when the little Italian is safe."

He shut the phone and Romano hit him, "damn it! Why? Why the fuck is this guy after us?"

"I don't know, mi tomate…"

"Stop calling me that! DAMMIT!" He shoved the Spaniard away and sat down again, slamming his head onto the table and cussing incessantly. Spain turned back to his work and within minutes was placing the pasta on the table. Romano looked up from behind his arm and felt his stomach growl. It looked so damn good.

Spain turned everything off and sat down across from him, "I know that it's not as good as natural Italian food, but it should taste better than the pasta that we had in Florida."

Romano got himself a large portion and took a bite, almost crying at how good it was. Damn, the tomatoes must have been freshly picked. He shut his eyes and savored the taste, sighing in content. Spain watched him and his whole face lit up in pride… and something else. Romano glanced at him and felt his face heat up. He coughed, "you uh… have something to go with this?"

"Hm? Oh, si. I have some juice if that's alright with you."

"Si, that's fine." He continued to eat with vigor as the nation poured them both a glass and set them down on the table. He got himself a smaller portion of the pasta and ate at a more sedate pace. Romano went for seconds and Spain smiled.

"So? What do you think of my cooking?" Romano looked up at him from his leaning over the table in earnest to get more and blushed a deeper red.

"It's… alright."

"Great!" Spain gave him a bright smile and Romano felt himself burning in embarrassment. Dammit, what was he embarrassed for? He was just eating some damn pasta with the bastard. It wasn't like this was a date or anything. It was just food. He sat back and tried to eat slower, tried. Within seconds he was back to eating fast again. "Lovi, are you alright?"

Romano nearly choked on what he had stuffed in his mouth and forced himself to swallow, giving the man a glare, "of course not! I'm being chased down by some psychotic bastard and having to trust a bunch of bastards with my life and my brother's. What the hell do I have to be happy about?"

Spain sat on the other side of the table and sighed, "you and your brother are safe though. You both are going to be okay and we are going to have a good time here, even with some Turk after you. This is not a prison, mi tomate."

"Are you calling me a tomato?"

"Si, your face turns the same shade of red," he smiled and Romano glared at him.

"I do not!"

Spain reached across the table and held his cheek, still smiling, "yes, you do! It's that shade right now!"

"Shut up dammit!"

"So cute…"

"Shut up, you pervert!" Romano stood up and stormed off to the bedroom he had woken up in. He slammed the door shut and sulked. He was worried about his damn brother, angry at those potato bastards, and god dammit he did not turn as red as a tomato!

A/N: Sweet~! So much encouragement! You guys are awesome. Oh, and I enjoy hacker! Gilbert. He's a drinking genius… maybe that's not quite the way to phrase it… -shrugs-