A/N: One of my headcannons is that Spain calls Romano all sorts of nicknames, so excuse the mass amount of soppy names coming from Spain.

Romano dropped his keys into the bowl by the front door as he closed it behind him. "Veneziano?" He called, wondering into the kitchen. When he found no sign of his little brother, he walked out and up to his bedroom. "Vene?" He said, walking through the open door. "Where's that goddamn brother of mine?" Romano sat down on Italy's empty bed, bored of walking around already. He sat there until something on the floor caught his eye.

"Stupid Veneziano, your phone screen is all cracked," he muttered, slipping it into his pocket before sitting back down on the bed. Romano wouldn't say he was worried about his little brother, quite the contrary, the peace and quiet was nice after a night with the Spaniard, but something was bothering him. Sure, Veneziano was an airhead, but he rarely left his phone lying around, much less with a large crack down the screen. What had made him do that?

With a sigh, Romano pulled his own phone out of his pocket and with a groan of annoyance, he dialled Germany's number.

"Romano, why are you calling?" He could hear Germany's own annoyance in his voice.

"Is my idiot brother there?"

"He went home yesterday, why?"

"Then where the fuck is he?" Romano still wouldn't say he was worried, not at all, but if he wasn't home and wasn't with Germany where was he this early in the morning?

"I don't know, Romano. He should be there."

"Potato bastard, tell me where my brother is!" He could tell his brother wasn't there, but who else could he take his frustration out on if not Germany?

"Romano, I don't know where Feliciano is."

"Don't call him that, you don't have the right!"

"Go find your brother. He's not here."

"Whatever, bastard." Romano hung up the phone and flopped backwards, his fingers clenched around the phone in his hand. "Stupid Veneziano."

Romano sat down on the sofa, his head in his hands. It had been hours and he'd still not heard a word from Feliciano. He had searched all through the house, gone down to the afternoon markets and even visited some of the local pubs in hope that Italy Veneziano had decided on some day drinking, but alas, his little brother was in none of those places. He'd called Japan, and even Poland hoping maybe he'd gone to visit some old friends. As a last resort, Romano dialled the last person he could think of.

"Hola, Lovi! How nice to hear from you," Spain answered.

"Bastard, I was with you not even twelve hours ago."

"I still miss you when you're not here," he sing-songed.

Romano's face flushed a bright red. "Sh-shut up, bastard."

"What are you calling for, mi tomate?"

"I can't find Feliciano."

"He's probably with Germany."

"He's not, I've already called him."

"You called Germany?" He didn't even try to hind the evident surprise in his voice. "Aw! My little Lovi must really care about his little brother!"

"I said shut up!" Romano rubbed at his forehead. "I take it he's not with you then?"

"Afraid not, mi amor."

"Dammit," he mumbled, biting at his bottom lip.

"Want me to come to you? I can help you look for him."

"No, bastard, I've had enough of your face for a lifetime." Romano lied. In all honesty, he did want Spain to come to his, but dammit would he ever admit that to the undoubtedly smiling Spaniard.

"Don't be so mean, Lovi."

He could practically hear the pout in Spain's voice. "Do whatever you like, bastard." The Italian knew that was all Spain needed to pack a bag and get on the next flight to come and see him.

"Okay! Adios, Lovi!"

"Yeah, whatever." The line went dead. Romano couldn't help the small smile tugging on his lips at the thought of Spain rushing around his house to pack a bag just to come see him.

It was fairly late when the door knocked once, before being pushed open. Romano stood in the hallway, watching as Spain dropped his own keys in the bowl and shutting the door.

"Oh, Lovi, you scared me," Spain said, dropping his bag by the door and walking towards Romano with his arms outstretched. Romano fell into them, his own arms wrapping around Spain's middle as he nudged his face into his shoulder. "You're really worried about Veneziano, eh?"

"Shut up," Romano mumbled, burying his face deeper into the space where neck meets shoulder.

"Have you tried calling him?"

"That would be a great idea," Lovino pulled away from Spain, and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out Italy's smashed phone. "If his phone wasn't right here."

"Have you looked through it? Maybe that'll give some information on where he is."

"Really? I never thought of that," Romano said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Is that so? Let's do it now then!"

"Are you really that thick?"

Spain pouted. "Roma thinks I'm stupid?"

Romano rolled his eyes, grabbing Spain's hand. "Yes." He pulled the Spaniard to the front room and pushed him down onto the couch. "The phone has a passcode. I can't get into it."

"Oh. Can I try?"

"What makes you think you can do it?"

"Just can I?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Spain took the phone from Lovino, who plopped down next to him. "Think about important dates in Italy's life."

"Like what?" He asked, tentatively resting his head against Spain's shoulder.

"The day you two became independent?"

"It's a four number code."

"So? 1715 or 0315."

"What?"

"March 17th, right?"

"Don't act like you don't know."

"I wasn't. I was explaining. March 17th, 1815. So, 17 for the 17th and 15 for 1815."

Romano looked up at Spain. "That was surprisingly smart, and frankly I'm pissed I didn't think of that."

Spain chuckled. "Okay, let's try this." He tried both dates, groaning when neither worked.

"What now, smart guy?"

"What other dates would be important to him?"

Romano frowned, realising he didn't really know much about his own little brother. "I don't know."

"What about the day he met Germany?"

"Why would that be so important to him? The potato bastard scared the living shit out of him, then locked him up."

"That may be so, but it was also the start of something special for him, right? The day he met Germany was the day his life changed entirely."

Romano tensed. "I suppose, but I could never tell you when that was."

"Well as I remember it, Germany broke through Italian lines, and defeated their army between the 24th of October and the 4th of November in the year 1917."

"Great, so that's only eleven dates to try."

"Well no, strictly speaking the 4th of November would be around the day Germany broke Italy out of the box, si?"

Spain typed in the numbers, and the phone unlocked.

"Okay, what the actual fuck."

"What?"

"For someone so dense, that was actually impressive. What made you try the 4th first?"

"Well," Spain started, resting his head against Romano's. "I just presumed that was the day he finally actually got to Italy, I mean, it makes sense."

"I can't fault that logic," Romano murmured. "So, what are we looking for?"

"Texts? Phone calls? Anything that might give us an idea of where your little brother is hiding."

"What if we don't find him?" Romano asked, his voice low.

Spain pressed a light kiss to his forehead. "We will. He can't be that far."

"Okay, so all we've found out is that he's been having bad dreams, and that Prussia is ultimately useless as remembering shit. Great. That's a whole lot to go on," Lovino said, pacing around the small living room.

"If Italy's been having bad dreams, where's the first place he'd go?"

"Well, Germany's probably. But we've already established that he's not there."

"What about if he got too scared to leave the house to make a break for Germany's? Surely there's somewhere here that he would hide?"

"Are you insinuating that he's been in the house all day? I've looked everywhere!"

"Have you? Every nook and cranny of the house? Italy's a small guy, he can fit in tight places."

Romano rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Fuck," he muttered, taking off out of the front room. Spain followed suit.

"Thought of somewhere?"

"The only place I haven't looked. The attic."

"Why didn't you look in the attic?"

"Because, my idiot brother is terrified of the attic, I never thought he'd go up there."

"If he is up there, doesn't that mean he really has been in all day?"

"Shut up. If he is up there I'm going to smack him one."

"Why?"

"Because, dammit, it means he's been ignoring my calling for him all fucking day."

"Oh."

Romano led Spain up several flights of dark stairs, until they were outside of the attic door. Lovino banged loudly on the door, just about ready to knock it down when he heard light whimpers come from inside.

"Veneziano, I swear to god if you don't come out of there right this fucking second I'm going to knock this goddamn door down and drag you out myself."

"Lovi, be nice," Spain whispered, pulling Romano from the door. "Ita? Are you okay in there?" The door flew open and Italy threw his arms around Spain, knocking them both back and almost down the stairs.

"Fucking hell, Vene. Have you been up here all fucking day?"

Italy nodded, still gripping Spain's shirt between his fingers.

"As much as I love your affection, if you don't let me go I'm going to pass out," Spain choked out. Italy dropped his arms, and his head.

"Why have you been up here all day?" Lovino asked, as he turned and made his way down the stairs, Spain's hand grasped tightly in his own.

"Ve, there was something outside!"

"What?"

"Last night, I had a nightmare then when I was looking out of the window something was moving!" Italy shrieked, turning to run back up the stairs.

"No you fucking don't," Romano growled, grabbing his brother's arm. "We're going to go into that fucking kitchen, Spagna is going to cook for us whilst you tell me exactly why you've been locked up in the attic all fucking day."

"Roma, calm down," Spain said, resting his and over the hand gripping Italy.

"Don't tell me what to do, you're not my boss."

"I can be if you want?" Spain winked at the now flustered Italian.

"Fuck off. Vene, go into the kitchen, we'll be there in a second."

Italy looked between the two men, his head tilted like a confused dog, then shrugged and walked off into the kitchen.

"Did you want to be alone with boss, Roma?"

"I swear to fucking God, Spagna. Don't try anything with me when my brother is right fucking there."

"You love it."

"Fucking pervert," Romano flushed a darker shade of red.

"Only for you, mi amor." Spain kissed Romano's red cheek. "Cute."

"I'm not fucking cute."

"Whatever you say."

With a final glare, Romano sauntered past Spain, wiggling his hips slightly, totally not teasing the Spaniard or anything. Spain reached out and playfully swatted his backside, causing Romano to jump slightly.

"Fucking pervert," he muttered under his breath.

"So, you're telling me you've been hiding in the attic all fucking day because of a dream?" Romano asked, pushing his empty plate away from him.

"Ve, exactly! There was something outside!"

"There was nothing outside, Vene. It was just your imagination."

Spain rested his hand on Romano's thigh. "It might have just been his imagination, but that doesn't mean it didn't scare him. You were constantly scared of the monsters in your closet as a kid."

"Get your fucking hand off of me, and stop saying bullshit."

Spain just smiled, keeping his hand right where it was.

"Ve, it wasn't just my imagination! There was something outside!" Italy said, ignoring the flustered look of his brother.

"Fucking hell, Vene. It was just your fucking imagination. You had a bad dream. Are you really so incapable of being alone for twenty-four fucking hours. You're a grown fucking adult. Grow the fuck up." Romano wasn't sure what it was about this situation that had him so angry, he just knew he was. And he'd be damned if he didn't let the room know just how pissed he was.

Italy's lip wobbled slightly, tears threatening to spill over.

"Calm down, Romano. It's clear your brother is scared, and screaming at him isn't helping anything," Spain scolded, removing his hand from Romano's thigh and placing it on the table instead. Romano puffed out his cheeks in annoyance, glaring down at the hand that had been on his thigh.

"Thank you, big brother Spain!" Italy said, smiling as if he was baiting Romano to start a fight.

"You're not alone here anymore, Ita. Roma and I are here too. So, go get some rest. You look like you haven't slept in days."

Italy frowned, but nodded and stood from the table. "Lovi?"

"What?" Romano asked, glaring at his brother.

"I'm sorry for scaring you today. I should have answered when you were calling me."

"You mean you fucking heard me calling you all day?" Romano stood from his own chair so fast it tipped back and fell against the marble floor.

"Ve! I wanted to come out but I was scared."

"I'll give you something to be fucking scared about," Romano shouted, as he lunged towards his little brother, who squealed and made a break from the room. Romano didn't get far as Spain's arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close and holding him tight.

"Mi amor, calm down," he whispered into his ear, nibbling softly at the skin below. Lovino stopped his struggling and tilted his head, letting Spain's mouth work at his neck.

"Fuck." Lovino turned himself round in Spain's arms to face him. "You should of let me kill him."

"Even if that were possible, I wouldn't allow my little Lovi to take part is such horrid deeds."

"You're lame."

"Maybe so, I'd rather be lame than in love with a murderer though."

"Dork."

"Ah, but I'm your dork."

"Damn straight you are." Lovino pressed his lips to Spain's.

"I'm going to check that Feliciano's okay. You, go settle into bed, I'll be there in a few."

"Bed? It's like ten thirty."

"I said bed, I didn't say we're going to sleep." He grinned at the Italian. "Now go."

Romano sat up is bed, the covers pooled around his waist as he scrolled through the channels on the TV in search of something to watch. It'd been well over an hour since Antonio had told him to get into bed whilst he checked on Feli. Romano fidgeted around, not being able to get comfortable knowing his pathetic little brother had all of Spain's attention. He wasn't jealous, of course not. He just wanted Spagna to only worry about him when he got scared. So no, not jealous at all. Romano was readying himself to finally go find Spain, when the man in question walked in.

"I brought some churros!" He grinned, holding the plate of cinnamon treats out at him.

"That's where you've been this entire time?"

"Yup! I thought I should treat you for letting me stay."

"Bastard, you don't have to treat me for that." Romano grabbed at the plate. "But I'll take them anyway."

"I knew you would." Spain settled down on the bed, Romano beside him nibbling on the treat in his hand. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing yet, I was waiting for you."

"How kind."

"I know. You can choose something tonight, I'm feeling generous."

"My little Lovi is such a sweetheart."

"Shut up." Lovino punched Antonio' arm playfully. "Choose something, then strip. You're wearing too much."

"You're needy tonight," Antonio joked, standing up from the bed.

"I'm not initiating anything. I just-" Lovino trailed off, his face flushing.

"You just what?"

"Nothing, bastard."

Spain stripped down to his boxers then climbed back into the bed beside Romano. "Whatever you say."

Romano was straddling Spain, Spain's mouth working over his chest, little mewls emitting from his throat, when they heard the panicked scream. Lovino shot off of Spain, and bolted towards Feliciano's room, ignoring the clear bulge in his underwear, Antonio at his heels. Lovino shoved open Feli's door. Feliciano was sat up in bed, his covers pulled over his face. The men in his doorway could hear the staggered breathing and low sobs.

"Vene?" Romano called, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Romano?"

"Yeah, it's me." Romano sat down beside Feliciano. "Another bad dream?"

"They won't stop!" He cried, removing his duvet from his face and looking at his brother with wet, tear filled eyes. "I can't get them to stop!"

Romano shifted slightly, taking his little brother's body in his arms and rubbing his back. He felt bad for the way he'd shouted earlier that night, now realising how bad these dreams seemed to be for his little brother. Spain stood in the doorway, watching the brothers, almost scared to interrupt an unusual bout of affection.

"We'll stay here with you, okay? Surely with the tomato bastard and I here with you, you'll be fine."

"Really? You don't mind?"

Romano glanced at Spain. Sure, he wanted to finish what they'd started, but he also, for some reason, wanted Veneziano to feel safe and be able to get some sleep. Spain seemed to agree by the way he nodded his head, a sad smile on his lips.

"Really. We'll just go get some covers for us, then we'll be back."

"Okay."

Romano and Spain headed back to his room.

"You don't mind, do you?" Romano asked, pulling his covers from the bed. "Not that I really care what you think."

"Of course I don't mind. It's nice to see you be a caring brother." Spain wrapped his arms around Lovino's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. "I like this side of you."

"S-shut up, bastard." He lent into Spain's chest. "I just don't want to be kept up all night by him screaming."

Spain chuckled and pressed a kiss to Lovino's shoulder. "Okay, mi amor."

Lovino and Antonio settled down on the soft carpet of Feliciano's floor. Feli had offered to share the bed with them both, but Lovino politely, or not so in this case, declined. They could hear the soft snoring of Feliciano as they settled back in the covers, Spain's arms wrapped protectively around Romano.

"Buona notte, bastard."

"Buenas Noches, Lovi. Te amo."

"Yeah. Ti amo anch'io."

A/N: Translations:

Hola - Hello (Spanish)

Mi tomate - My tomato (Spanish)

Mi amor - My love (Spanish)

Adios - Goodbye (Spanish)

Spagna - Spain (Italian)

Buona notte - Good night (Italian)

Buenas noches - Good night (Spanish)

Te amo - I love you (Spanish)

Ti amo anch'io - I love you too (Italian)

I don't know the exact dates some things take place, so it's mostly just estimates on the mass of years given on Wiki. For instance, the Italian Unification was 1815 to 1871, so I just chose the first year. If you know the correct dates it should be, feel free to correct me.

Reading this back and damn, Spain and Romano are super lovey dovey in this, sorrynotsorry.