Romano sat wide awake in his bed, flicking his eyes from side to side as his heart thumped in his chest. He pulled his quilt up to his chin and willed his body to sink into the mattress. 'Stupid Spain and his stupid ghost stories,' he thought bitterly as another creak sent him jumping in fright. Romano heard a scratch at his window and shot his head to the source, his logic told him it was the combination of wind and the large tree outside making the noise, but all he could think about were the stories of witches and dead wives and ghost pirates that all seemed desperate to steal the souls of young children like himself.

Finally his fear reached a fever pitch and he threw himself out of bed, lunging desperately into the hall as he sprinted to Spain's bedroom. Romano pounded desperately when he reached the older country's door, quickly wrenching it open and slamming it behind him as soon as he heard a sleepy "come in."

"What's wrong, Romano?" Spain asked, staring confused at his panting lackey while propping himself up on his elbows and trying to suppress a yawn.

"I-it, I mean I-I," Romano started, embarrassment settling in now that fear was slowly exiting his body.

"You didn't wet the bed again, did you?" Spain leaned forward a little to examine his lackey's pants, only to lean back against the headboard when he saw that they were dry.

Romano's face burned as he stomped over to Spain's bedside to punch the older country in the arm. "I don't do that anymore, Bastard," he seethed, turning his back from the bed and tucking his head again his chest to pout.

Spain laughed a little, slowly becoming more lucid as he leaned towards the Italian and nuzzled his nose into the back of his head, upsetting the soft brunette tendrils as he breathed heavily into the boy's hair. "You're right, mi tomate, I'm sorry," he cooed, gently placing his hands on the boy's shoulder to rotate his body back towards the bed. "Now tell me what brings you here."

Romano allowed his body to be positioned by Spain, he begrudgingly enjoyed being coddled by his caretaker, even if he would die before admitting it. "I just, I thought you might be scared, so I came to see if you wanted me to sleep with me tonight." The Italian mumbled finally, still refusing to wrench his eyes from the floor.

The older country desperately held back the chuckle that was moving it's way up his throat, his little lackey's ego had been wounded enough tonight and Spain knew the best course of action was to play along with the boy's scheme. "While that is thoughtful of you," Spain said after a while, lovingly combing Romano's rumpled hair behind his ears, "I think I'll manage alone."

Fear flickered briefly in Romano's eyes when he realized he was about to sent back to his room. His mind quickly churned as he tried to decide what was more important: his pride or his comfort. He robotically stepped back from his guardian's touch and made his way to the door, scowling as he stiffly reached an arm up to the handle.

"Romano," Spain interjected suddenly, making the boy spin his head around in desperation. "There is one thing I need your help with," Spain paused, grinning inwardly when he saw the hopeful look on his lackey's face.

"Well what is it, Bastard, I'm tired!" Romano yelled back, still stubbornly trying to hide his uneasiness at the idea of sleeping alone.

"Well, it's the attic." Spain decided finally, "I'm always hearing things up there. I think it's just that it needs to be cleaned out so the ghosts have space to move around, but I'm scared to clean up there myself."

"It's probably just squirrels," Romano interrupted, frowning angrily at his guardian's stupidity.

Spain closed his eyes and laughed, scratching the back of his head, "Ah, yes well you're probably right, and that's why I need your help, Romano." The Italian folded his arms against his chest, not only was he being sent back to his room, but he was being asked to clean. He was just thinking about what an awful night it had been when a thought occurred to him.

"S-so you're scared of the noises?" Romano asked, taking a hesitant step away from the door to peer at his caretaker's expression.

"Ah, hm," Spain said simply, nodding.

"W-well, how about I sleep with you tonight then, but just tonight, until we clean out the attic." Romano shouted, balling his fists in anticipation.

Spain studied his lackey for a moment, stunned that his plan had worked so well, "So you'll sleep with me tonight..."

"So you won't be scared." Romano interjected irritably.

"And then help me clean tomorrow?" Spain finished, cocking his head to the side in feigned bewilderment.

"Si," Romano said simply, nodding his head once.

"What a wonderful lackey I have!" Spain squealed, scrambling from his bed to wrap his arms around the squirming Italian.

"Lemme go, Bastard!" Romano grumbled, brushing his hands over his night shirt in exasperation when Spain finally lowered him back to the ground. Without waiting for permission, the Italian walked quickly to Spain's side of the bed, pulling himself onto the mattress and curling up into the warm spot left by the body that had once occupied it. Spain just shook his head and laughed, the boy had the weirdest ways of showing affection, and he loved him for it. The older country walked to the boy's side, brushing the Italian's hair out his eyes and laying a soft kiss on his temple, before turning off the lamp and walking to the other side of the bed.

Spain pulled down the covers and scooted in close to Romano, pulling the blankets back over their bodies once he was situated. He wrapped an arm around the small boy and leaned his forehead into the base of his neck, smiling contentedly at being allowed the close contact. He would have to tell Romano ghost stories more often, he decided.


Romano slowly opened his eyes, squinting through bleary vision at the unfamiliar surroundings. He sat up, wincing slightly at the pressure of his full bladder, and glanced down at his sleeping caretaker. Romano couldn't help but note the slight smile the man wore even when unconscious, before struggling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He sighed with relief as he washed his hands, nose tickling from the faint flowery smell as he clapped his palms together and slowly parted them to make an iridescent wall.

"What are you up to?" Spain's voice broke Romano's concentration, making the transparent barrier pop when his hands jerked involuntarily.

"Spain!" He yelped indignantly when the man laid a hand on his head, the other reaching into the medicine cabinet to retrieve his toothbrush.

Spain ignored the outburst and laid his toothbrush on the counter, handing Romano his own, and carefully squeezed a line of toothpaste over the bristles. "Don't forget what you promised me, tomate," Spain said through a mouthful of peppermint suds when he had put the toothpaste away and started polishing his teeth vigorously.

"What?" Romano squawked around his own foam-filled mouth.

Spain spit into the sink and scooped some water into his mouth, sloshing it around a while before spitting that out, too, and wiping his lips with the hand towel next to the counter. "You said you'd help me clean the attic today," he replied while Romano carefully brushed his tongue, gagging when he let the toothbrush plunge too far. "Careful," the older country added thoughtfully, rubbing the boy's back lightly before his hand was swatted away.

"I don't feel like it," Romano scowled when he had finally finished with his teeth. He stood on tip-toes to place his toothbrush back in the holder and frowned deeply when Spain plucked it from his fingers and put it up for him.

"But Romano," Spain smiled crookedly as he teased the boy, "are you saying you like sleeping with me?"

"W-what!" Romano sputtered, a deep blush forming on his cheeks. "Of course not, you Pervert!"

"But I told you the noises in the attic scare me, so unless we clean it out you'd have to sleep with me again." Romano's eyes widened as he realized what his caretaker was implying.

"Fine, Bastard. We'll clean it." Romano growled, pride taking over once more as he stomped out of the bathroom and towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Spain called after him, leaning his upper body out of the bathroom as he watched the boy disappear into the hall.

"To change!" Romano snapped back, not bothering to turn around.

"Make sure you put on old clothes!" Spain hollered after him, laughing to himself lightly when he was certain the boy was out of earshot.

Romano padded into his bedroom, not bothering to shut the door behind him as he glanced out the window at the overcast sky and silently cursed the tall tree that stood so close to his bedroom, reaching for him with it's long limbs. "You're the reason I have to work today, stupid tree." He grumbled while struggling to pull his nightshirt from over his head. After he had finished undressing he dug through his dresser till finding a pasta-stained shirt and a pair of pants with a hole on each knee. Spain never let him throw out his old clothes, no matter how threadbare they were. Once dressed, the Italian started back for the hallway, hesitating slightly while he considered brushing his hair, but ultimately deciding it wasn't worth it.

"Look at my little ragamuffin," Spain laughed when Romano padded into sight. The older country was already in the hall, pulling down the panel from the ceiling that folded out to reveal a small set of stairs into the attic.

Romano crossed his arms tightly and scowled, "you're the one who told me to put on old clothes," he grumbled.

Spain glanced over his shoulder at the angry boy and laughed, "I know, I think you look cute!" He beamed, turning from the stairs to tousle the boy's already tangled hair.

"Idiot," Romano spat, ducking under his caretaker's hand and hurrying up the rickety stairway. "Let's get this over with so I don't hang out with a bastard like you anymore." He called down angrily. Romano glanced around the room as he waited for his guardian to join him, pale sunlight filtered in through breaks in the paneling, illuminating small specks of dust as if they were stars. White tarps lay over large mounds of junk and, judging by the earthy and slightly moldy smell filling the air, they had been there a while.

"You ready to get started?" Spain asked, gently placing a hand on his lackey's shoulder.

"Hm," Romano sounded in agreement, shrugging off the older country's touch and moving to the closest tarp. "What's up here?" He asked, curiosity overtaking his commitment to appearing ambivalent as he grasped his hands around the stiff, white fabric and pulled forcefully.

"I'm not really sure to be honest." Spain admitted, moving behind the Italian to assist in removing the tarp. "Some of this stuff has been here before me," he pulled once aggressively and the cloth loosened its hold on the items beneath it and slid to the floor in a puddle of white folds.

Romano stared up at his guardian, eyes wide with wonder. It was hard to imagine someone older than Spain, let alone someone older than Spain that had once occupied this house. Romano knew that the countries were constantly changing and merging and dying and being born, but somehow he had started to convince himself that he and Spain would stay the way they were forever. He knew it was a stupid thought, signs that Romano was growing seemed to appear every day, and certainly his experience with his Grandpa and Austria had proved that alliances fail and countries die. But at some point Romano had begrudgingly realized that, for maybe the first time in his life, he was happy. He liked living with Spain and being coddled and loved unconditionally. He tried desperately to convince himself he wasn't content, because Spain was stupid and a bastard, and obviously he didn't care that much about Romano's feelings. If he did he wouldn't let the him get so attached to the older country, because if something happened to Spain wouldn't Romano be even worse off than he was before? Wasn't knowing love and then having it taken it away worse than never knowing what you were missing out on?

"Everything ok, Roma?" Spain asked as he continued around the attic, removing tarps. Romano sat on the balls of his feet, lost in thought as he fiddled with the open clasp of a unadorned chest.

"It's too dusty," Romano pouted, hiding the slight blush on his cheeks in the crook of his arm as he gave an exaggerated cough.

Spain nodded knowingly while he gathered up another tarp in his hands and threw it to the corner of the attic. "I haven't been up here in a long time so things have gotten pretty dirty," he said as he walked over to his lackey to peer over what was distracting the boy's attention.

"Oh, look, I haven't thought of this in a long time," he smiled lightly as he knelt down to Romano and eased the lid open on the simple wooden chest. The Italian let his fingers rest on the lip of the box as he looked over the edge. Inside were a few old toys and random trinkets, he spied a clumsily made clay item and studied it curiously.

"What is this thing?" He asked, growing cross at the chalky, ill-formed mass.

"It's a squirrel, can't you tell?" Spain laughed, plucking the sculpture from his lackey's fingers and turning it over in his hands as he eyed it thoughtfully.

Romano grew bored of the misshapen creation and scanned the contents of the chest again, this time pulling a grimy blue blanket from the pile. "Ew," he moaned, tossing the stained cloth to the side and reaching an arm into the case to comb through the random trinkets. He didn't understand why someone would save this junk, there were crinkly leaves, wilted dandelions, papers with noodles glued sloppily to their surfaces, and a few chipped and broken toys.

Romano was just about to suggest they lug the chest down to be thrown out when Spain gently scooted the boy away and closed the lid carefully, "We'll keep this," he said simply, pushing the box closer to the wall so it would be out of the way.

Romano stood dumbfounded, "Why do you want to save this junk?" He demanded, stomping his foot and upsetting a cloud of dust.

Spain waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air around him, "these items are precious to me, Roma." He said simply, chuckling a little at his lackey's dumbfounded face.

"But why, Spain you idiot? There's nothing worth keeping in there, the ghosts are going to be mad if we make them live with this stuff," Romano continued, walking next to Spain and picking up the malformed squirrel sculpture that sat beside the older country. He stared at his caretaker, both appalled and confused. He knew Spain didn't have the best taste, but this was pushing it.

"I was going to put that in my room," Spain explained, reaching to pull the figurine from Romano's grip and laughing half-heartedly when the boy jerked his hand away.

"C'mon Romano, that thing means a lot to me, please give it back to your boss." He said seriously.

Romano tensed a little when he realized Spain wasn't smiling. He shrugged his shoulders and gripped the object tightly in frustration before begrudgingly holding it out to the older country, "I just don't get why you'd want something so ug-" he started, flinching when he felt the delicate clay squirrel snap into two pieces beneath his fingertips. "Ah-" He stated, blinking when he opened his palm and let the object fall to ground and disintegrate further.

Romano looked expectantly at his caretaker, watching nervously as Spain stared at him blankly for a silent minute before sighing and grinning slightly. "It's ok," he said, shaking his head a little as he leaned forward to ruffle Romano's hair. The Italian stepped back from the touch, staring at his caretaker with unbelieving eyes.

"You're not going to yell at me?" He asked, face screwing into an unrecognizable emotion, "you're not mad?"

Spain knit his eyebrows in confusion before standing back up and brushing the dust off his knees, "it was an accident, Roma." He replied, ignoring his lackey's fixed stare.

"N-not really," Romano barked, "I was being careless, I knew I was holding it too tightly," the boy gulped heavily, "I wanted it to break, I wished that it would!"

"What's done is done," Spain replied cooly, cocking his head to the side slightly at his lackey's confession. "Why are you so content on me getting angry at you, Roma?"

Romano pressed his chin into his chest and glared at the floor, balling his fists at his sides as he mumbled "Spain you stupid jerk."

"Wh-" Spain started, gasping slightly when Romano suddenly stormed past him and down the attic stairs. "Wait, where are you going, Romano?" Spain called after the boy, standing disoriented before finally snapping back to reality and running after the boy.

Spain sprinted around the large house, opening every door as he yelled out his ward's name. "Romano!" He called frantically, calming down when he heard a small sniffle echo in the hall from the Italian's room. Spain slowed his pace and padded to the boy's quarters, pausing in the doorway when he couldn't immediate see his lackey. "Romano?" He called in softly, making his way to the other side of the bed when he heard another tiny sniffle.

"What did I do?" Spain asked perplexed when he saw Romano curled with his back against the side of the bed, knees to his chest. The older country made his way to the window sill and sat on it with a sigh, staring at his lackey as fat teardrops kept making their way down his red-tinted cheeks.

Romano sat with his gaze fixed on Spain's knees, refusing to grant the older country the privilege of looking him in the eyes. "I hate you," Romano choked out, missing the hurt look that crossed his caretaker's face.

"I'm sorry," Spain said after a long moment, unsure of what the boy wanted from him.

"No!" Romano shouted, scrambling to his feet and crossing to where Spain sat to punch him in the arm. "I said I hate you!" He reiterated, punching the older country again for emphasis.

Spain grabbed the boy by the wrists and forced him to sit next to him on the sill. "I'm sorry, w-what can I do?" He asked desperately, growing frustrated with the situation.

Romano just sobbed harder at that and squirmed vigorously beneath his guardian's strong grip. "No, dammit, no that's wrong!" He cried, pulling his feet up and pushing them against Spain's thigh in a vain attempt to break free.

"What's wrong?" Spain asked firmly, mentally willing the boy to calm down.

"You're not supposed to act this way when I'm bad," Romano screamed, finally stilling his body and staring Spain in the eyes, "don't you care about me at all?" He demanded, panting heavily.

Spain's face softened as he pulled the Italian's limp body forward by his captured wrists and wrapped his arms around his back, holding him firmly to his chest. "Of course I care, Romano, of course I do." He cooed softly, repeating the mantra over and over as the boy sobbed heavily into his grimy shirt.

"N-no, stop," Romano mumbled half-heartedly through his sobs. Spain just shushed the boy and continued rubbing his back until Romano jerked against his hold. "No!" He yelled, louder this time when Spain finally relinquished his grasp. "I-if you care about me th-then, then you shouldn't be so nice," he said seriously, choking around painful sobs.

Spain stared sympathetically, wanting to hug the boy and tell him everything would be ok, but knowing the Italian would never allow it in this state. "I'm sorry, Roma," he finally managed, "I just don't understand what's wrong."

Romano let out an exasperated groan and threw his eyes to the ceiling, "just send me back to Austria." He cried, grabbing at his face and digging his fingernails into his forehead.

Spain was devastated, he loved his lackey so much, he tried to keep him happy and comfortable, and yet he was asking to go back and live with Austria. Spain felt his chest clench painfully, "if that will make you happy, then," he paused, breathing heavily to keep his voice from wavering, "then I guess I'll let you go."

Romano shook his head softly, "o-of course it w-won't make me happy," he choked out, "th-that's the point!"

Spain felt the grip on his heart loosen, he wasn't pleased that his lackey was crying, but he was relieved that he was more content living with Spain than his former boss. "Then why, Roma?" He asked simply.

"B-because," Romano hiccuped, grounding the base of his palms into his eyes, "l-look what happened to the squirrel!"

"This is all because the squirrel broke?" Spain was becoming more baffled with every statement that left his the Italian's mouth.

Romano finally let his hands fall from his face, sniffing heavily as he took in the older country's tender expression. "What if what happened to that squirrel," Romano licked the salty tears from his lips, "what if that happens to you?"

Realization settled into Spain's eyes and he let his mouth gape open slightly. "Nothing's going to happen to me, mi tomate," he said simply, leaning forward to tousle the boy's hair comfortingly.

Romano jerked back and knit his brow in frustration, "it's not that easy!" He shouted angrily, "you can't just say, 'I'll be fine,' and that's that! Even now..." He sucked in a deep breath when his body was wracked with another painful sob, "even now you're away for a long time sometimes, and when you come back you're all bloody and cut up and, and what I'm supposed to do, Spain!" Romano cried, throwing his palms down on the window sill in front of him and bowing his head down to hover over them. "What am I supposed to without you?"

Spain's heart fluttered against his chest in an odd combination of joy and overwhelming sadness. He placed a gentle hand on his lackey's shoulder and pushed the boy up, leaning into to place a gentle kiss on the child's ear, and eyebrow, and nose, and hand, and all the places that were hurting but had no wounds. "I can't promise that I'll be around forever, Romano," he said after a long while, grabbing the boy by the waist and pulling him into his lap. "And I can't promise that you'll be around forever, either." He admitted when the boy didn't respond, "and that's why every moment I can love you and cuddle you and spoil you is so important to me."

Romano nodded lightly, not reacting when Spain brushed the tangled hair from his forehead. "I'm scared," he croaked out, wincing at the weakness in his voice.

"We all are, it's part of life," Spain said sadly, giving Romano a tight squeeze, "and that's why we've just got to enjoy each moment we're given together." Romano didn't respond, he understood what his caretaker had said and he was old enough to realize there was nothing Spain could do to make it better. The two sat in silence for a long while, enjoying the sound of each other breathing as the pale early spring light grew dim.

"I still don't understand why you wanted to keep that crap," Romano said after a long while, sighing slightly when Spain's chest rumbled with laughter.

"It's sentimental," Spain replied simply, he supposed too much time had passed for Romano to remember the items in the box and how they were all trinkets saved from his childhood.

"You're so weird." Romano replied, clicking his tongue in annoyance at not receiving a full explanation.

Spain shrugged. "You know, I was afraid you had run away today," he said thoughtfully, resting his chin on Romano's head and gazing contentedly out the window.

"I was going to, but then I remembered what I was wearing." Romano replied dryly, swiping the back of his wrist across his running nose.

Spain closed his eyes and laughed deeply, pulling a tissue from the box on the bedside table and handing it down to his lackey. "Guess I'll just have to destroy all your clothes so I can keep you around me all the time."

"Bastard," Romano grumbled, blowing his nose into the tissue and smiling slightly.