I think I'll just let this chapter speak for itself.
...
"...and so then I didn't know cosa fare, and I couldn't just go back to my room senza pantaloni, right? It was embarrassing, and I thought I was gonna have to grab a towel but there were none left! So I saw the pants di fratello and I didn't think-" a sip of hot chocolate "-so I put them on and left but I didn't know that he was coming back for them. So I said to myself that I was going to put them back if he wanted them but then I forgot. So then più tarde.."
Germany sighed lightly as he listened to Feliciano speak. The Italian man had been worrying himself sick over Romano and apparently his method of coping involved lots of funny stories about his brother. As he had descended farther and farther into his hysteria he'd also started to switch to Italian, and while they had been allies many times Germany didn't know a word. So he sat there, in Feliciano's hotel room, doing his best to lend a sympathetic ear.
"...and did I tell you about the time when fratello ed io were going al negozio, e un uomo con un cane voleva comprare la nostra casa...?"
"Italia," Germany said lightly, cutting the smaller man off. He looked up at Germany with wide, watery eyes.
Immediately the taller man lost his train of thought. Those eyes...they were so vulnerable and pleading, but still so warm and...and friendly. They were innocent; that's what they were, so unbecoming of a country. And yet somehow he couldn't imagine the young man any other way. He stared down at Feliciano for a second before trying to regain his composure.
He cleared his throat. "I know you're worried about Romano..."
Feliciano scrunched up his nose as his eyes filled with tears again. Germany's eyes widened, and he held up his hands.
"But! But he'll be fine! He can take care of himself, right?"
Feliciano seemed to think about this for a moment before he nodded. "I suppose..."
"So there's no use crying," Germany said firmly, placing his hand on Feliciano's shoulder. His words were forceful but his eyes were soft. "What your brother is doing is very important. You should be proud."
Germany wasn't sure he'd ever had cause to say anything like that about the southern portion of Italy before, but it wasn't entirely untrue. Romano had taken on the task of stopping a war, and that was definitely no small task, especially when it came to Spain. Because every so often Spain would fall into a funk, a series of violent mood swings that led him to do things he wasn't proud of later. Or, at least Germany hoped he wasn't proud of them.
"But...what if fratello gets hurt? Or what if Spain kills him? Or what if they're kidnapped? Or what if he doesn't make it in time and England starts a war and Lovi allies with Spain and then I have to stay with them and you join the other side and we have to fight each other?" Feliciano's eyes got wider with every word, and he clung desperately to the too-long sleeves of his sweatshirt.
Germany opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. His eyes ran over Feliciano's face as he struggled to find some kind of answer, some reassurance that would stop the smaller man from crying. He sighed, closing his mouth again.
There was a moment of heavy silence before Feliciano spoke again, sniffling quietly. "Ve...Germania?"
"Hm?"
"I know you get uncomfortable and you don't like it, and that I'm probably annoying you a lot but...can I hug you?"
Germany paused, his mind processing the request. Then, very slowly, he nodded.
A moment later Feliciano dived for him, wrapping his thin arms around the larger man's torso and burying his face in Germany's chest. Germany blinked, unsure of what to do. Feliciano was shaking, his grip tight.
Carefully, Germany brought his arms down. One draped over Feliciano's waist, the other sitting higher, up by his shoulders. They stayed that way for a moment, and Germany swallowed thickly.
Feliciano was so small and delicate, and now he was crying. Germany could feel the silent shudders against his chest, and suddenly he was overwhelmed by the urge to...to what? To protect, to help...to...to...he didn't have a word. He wanted Feliciano to stop crying, to smile; he wanted to be able to say that Romano would be back fine, and in no time at all. He didn't know where this was all coming from, but he wanted for Feliciano to be able to rely on him, not only for military power but for...well, not emotional problems...for guidance? For...for everything.
He pulled Feliciano closer, finally completing the embrace. His hand came up to cradle the back of the smaller man's head. His hair was soft and smooth, and without thinking Germany started running his fingers through it lightly. Feliciano shifted forward, and to Germany's surprise he settled himself in the taller man's lap. His arms moved up to wrap around the German man's neck, head resting in the crook of his shoulder.
Under any other circumstances those actions would have caused Germany to flush red and pull away, but for some reason he couldn't. He closed his eyes, sighing, and they stayed that way for a while. After a long time Feliciano stopped shaking.
…
"Oh God-fucking-dammit, Spain, get your feet off the dashboard!"
Lovino gripped the wheel of the car tightly, glaring angrily at the road. Spain didn't move, his feet lazily crossed as he propped them up just under the windshield. His arms were tucked behind his head, and his eyes were fluttering closed. Lovino growled.
His arm shot out, slapping Spain's stomach with the back of his hand. Spain's eyes shot open, and he coughed out a surprised shout as his arms came down to protect his stomach. He leaned forward, eyes wide and confused as he stared at Lovino.
"Don't look at me like that," Lovino reprimanded sharply. "Feet. Down."
"I think you're getting stressed, mi Lovi. Maybe you need a break..."
"Or maybe not," Lovino snapped. Spain's eyebrows shot up.
"I take a little nap and now you're like this?"
"I'm always like this, bastard."
Spain smiled lightly. "A few hours ago you weren't. I want to kiss you again, Lovi..."
"Yeah, well..." Lovino couldn't actually force himself to disagree. Don't say he didn't fucking want to, though. Disagreeing with Spain was one of his hobbies.
"And here I thought we had a real moment."
Lovino sighed. "Think whatever the hell you want."
Spain lifted his feet from the dashboard, dropping them down into a normal sitting position. Lovino nodded in approval.
"Where are we?" Spain asked after a particularly large yawn.
"Dunno. Small towns. Surprised they're even on the map."
They were on...well, they had been on a highway, some number in the 300s. Now it had led into a tiny village, one that barely looked like it held more than three or four residents on a good day. It was pretty, though, he'd give it that. Lots of nice trees and old buildings and stuff.
There were quite a few houses, and then it opened up into what he guessed was the business center. Not that it even was that, seeing as it consisted primarily of a gas station and a post office. As far as Lovino could see that was it. Oh well. He was more of the city type anyway. Out here there wasn't shit to do.
Soon they were out of the little hamlet, though, and back on some smaller roads. The address had pointed to somewhere around here, or according to the map within a half hour or so. It was getting late, and the sun had just barely set. Lovino reached over, picking up the bottle of iced tea. As they had started driving again he'd taken a drink from it, but it was very unsuccessful through the bouts of uncharacteristic laughter. Now the joke had died down. The tea was really kind of shitty but he drank it anyway.
"I'd like to live in a place like this," Spain said passively, sighing. Lovino blinked, looking around. There were trees, trees, more trees, a river and trees. Nowhere to live as far as he was concerned.
"The only things out here are rednecks and bears," Lovino muttered. Spain hummed lightly.
"And forests. And farms. Villages are so nice and close-knit. A good place to settle down, maybe retire."
"Fat chance of that ever happening. It's not like we have day jobs."
"Would you want to?"
Lovino blinked. "Huh?"
"If you could? Get a house in the country, start a family, a simple job. It sounds nice."
"I like being Italy, thank-you-very-much." Lovino clenched his teeth, wondering why the hell the tomato-bastard had to get all sentimental now of all times.
"I know. I just like to think."
"Then how 'bout you start thinking about how the hell you're gonna stop America from kicking your ass?"
Spain sighed. "True."
They were silent again, and Lovino was mentally berating himself for being such shit at conversation. A few days ago he'd be excited—no, fucking ecstatic, if Spain so much as told him about the goddamn weather. Now he was acting like...well, like Spain was anyone else. Which he wasn't. He definitely wasn't, and Lovino had come to terms with that a long time ago.
So, taking a deep breath, he made a conscious decision to try and keep a steady conversation going. No insults. Well, minimal insults. Maybe...maybe a compliment? But only if it came up. He swallowed, eyes scanning the road. This was hard.
"So, uh...Spain..." he started, not sure of what to say. Spain was looking out the window too, a very contemplative look on his face.
"You should call me Antonio," he said lightly.
Lovino felt a familiar twist in his stomach. "Why would I do that?" he asked, but it wasn't as malicious as he intended.
"You did in the store."
Oh. Right. "Well...well, that was just because people were around. You know."
"I know. You should still call me by my name. My real name."
"Why should I?" But Lovino wanted to. For the first time in days his chest started getting heavy, that thickness that dulled his perception of everything except for Spain.
"It sounds beautiful when you say it," Spain answered nonchalantly, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. Lovino sucked in a breath.
"Don't say 'beautiful.'"
"Tu voz es como música...tus ojos son más hermosos que las estrellas...todo el mundo está celoso de tu sonrisa..." Spain said breathlessly, adding on each new phrase as though reciting a poem. He glanced over from the window to watch Lovino as he drove.
The Italian man, meanwhile, was becoming more and more aware of an unsettling feeling in his stomach...no, not goddamn butterflies...dammit...and his face definitely wasn't starting to tinge pink...and he honestly didn't care what the hell Spain was saying...he really didn't. He wasn't starting to breathe a little faster...and his heart wasn't jumping, and...
"I saw you watching me in the meetings, Lovi. I tried to look my best for you," Spain said quietly. Immediately Lovino's eyes went wide and his grip on the wheel tightened.
"Don't know what the hell you're talking about," Lovino forced out.
"No me importa. Il mio amore..."
Lovino had no idea what Spain was trying to do, but whatever it was it was working. He gave a shuddering sigh, glancing down at the map. "We're almost there."
Spain nodded, still looking as though he was off in his own world. "Then we can get this over with. When we're done..." he trailed off, sound deep in thought.
Lovino waited for him to finish, but he didn't. The Italian man grumbled, not wanting to ask but having to anyway. "When we're done what?"
"I'm going to take you out on a date. A real date."
Lovino nearly choked. "What? A date...what the hell makes you think I'd want to go on a date?"
"You're blushing."
"No I'm not!" Lovino sputtered, scowling even more intently at the road. "It's too fucking hot in here…" he muttered, reaching for the air conditioning. Spain caught his hand halfway, holding it lightly. Lovino bit his lip nervously but he didn't pull away. Spain's thumb started to rub circles into the back of Lovino's hand.
"Lovi? Will you go on a date with me?"
Goddammit, Spain. Why did he have to be so forward? Lovino sighed. "God. Fine. Okay. Just don't call it a date, got it?"
"But I know you're always such a sucker for those romantic things," Spain said happily. "I can get you flowers, a candlelit dinner in a nice restaurant, we can wear nice clothes…"
It sounded…ah, fuck it. It sounded great. Lovino nodded and Spain manipulated his hand so their fingers entwined. Lovino glanced down at their linked hands for a moment before letting a little bit of a smile—but just a little bit, you damn bastards—find its way onto his face. They were now driving through some more forest, perched on the side of one of the many hills that dotted the land. It was quite dark now. America's house would be coming up very soon, the map said. Lovino could only be relieved.
And as it came into view he wasn't disappointed. They saw it appear from behind the trees piece by piece, starting with the huge wrap-around porch. That led to the first floor, then the second, then the third…and Lovino could have sworn there was an attic above that. A huge lawn fell in a sheet down the hill, with a driveway leading up to the house that was encased by trees. A fountain sat in the center of the perfectly trimmed grass, and because of the slope it had been built on an angle, letting the water fall from rocks that looked far too natural to a stone-lined pool at its base.
Lovino swore his jaw dropped, and Spain's did too. He slowed down at the driveway, not sure if he should actually go up. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that this was one of America's houses…but shit it was big. And really, were the horses necessary? He took a deep breath as they started up the perfectly paved driveway. *
It was so goddamn long, and that just added to Lovino's anxiety. In all truth he had no idea what he would say to England and America, or what he could say, or how he would bitch them out (because that's exactly what he was planning to do) or what Spain would say. He didn't know how to talk to any of those stupid countries.
They came up to the flat area where the house was built to see three other cars parked there. One was short and squat, an ugly gray-green color. The second was much more stylish, a sleek black convertible. The last was a huge red truck. With wheels larger than Lovino's body. And some kind of huge box in the back. Lovino was fairly sure he could guess which one was America's. Idiot.
As he pulled up by the other cars, he heard Spain shuffling in his seat. "Are you sure this is it?"
"No, this is the other fucking gigantic mansion in the woods."
"Oh."
Lovino sighed, getting out of the car. He didn't even know where the hell the front door was. Spain was looking very excited, but that was expected. He hadn't really been around for most of the crappy war-starting stuff so Lovino wasn't sure this had settled in entirely. Whatever. Lovino was planning on doing all the talking anyway.
"Thank God!"
Lovino and Spain both looked up to see a door on the side of the porch opening. England came out, hurrying down the steps and toward the two standing by the car. His face was a bit red, and he looked as though he'd just come down from a heated argument, judging by his balled fists and dark scowl.
"You two certainly took your sweet time getting here! America and Canada just left! How do you expect to get any of this sorted out if we can't even have one decent discussion! I've half a mind to—"
"Shut up, bastard."
England stopped mid-tirade, mouth open. He stared a Lovino in shock for a second before composing himself and proceeding to glare angrily at the young man. "Don't say that to me."
"I think I can say whatever the hell I want," Lovino spat, "You didn't even wait the fucking week, asshole."
England looked lost for a moment before a look of cold realization swept across his face. "So you don't know."
"Don't know what?" Spain spoke this time, his voice much softer and smoother than Lovino's. England frowned.
"Well, I'll assure you that we had nothing to do with America's stupid, stupid decision."
Lovino opened his mouth as if to say something but he couldn't form words. Spain spoke instead. "We?"
England nodded, turning back toward the house. "Francis, they're here!" he called, looking none too pleased to be doing so. A few moments later, France's head poked out of the door.
When he saw Spain his face completely changed. He came out of the house, and immediately Lovino could see the bandages over his shoulder. He looked like he was fairly recovered already, though, and he didn't seem to be in much pain. Not that Lovino cared whether he was in pain or not.
As he approached, Spain started to look very uncomfortable. He looked down, hands fidgeting in front of his stomach. Lovino looked at France uncertainly. He and Spain mustn't have had any contact after the shooting. This would be interesting.
"I'm sorry," Spain said immediately, barely meeting France's gaze. England rolled his eyes.
"Yes, yes, he forgives you, la di la; we have more important matters to be discussing."
Spain's eyes brightened. "You forgive me?"
France shrugged, though it looked a bit painful. "I will heal. And I know that was not you, mon Antoine." Spain didn't look so sure. "We shall talk of this later, oui?"
France was looking very solemn, and Spain sighed. "Sí."
"And anyway, I want to hear all about your exploits with our little Romano here…"
Spain grinned, but Lovino could see that he was feeling very bad about the whole situation. He couldn't blame him. France, however, was looking rather as he always did, that frivolous smile licking at the corners of his lips. Ugh. There was the France Lovino knew and hated.
"So, what about America being an idiot?" Lovino interjected, raising his eyebrows. England nodded firmly, giving Spain and France a look.
"I'm sure you've heard about his anti-terrorism campaign, right?"
"Is he starting a war or not?"
England opened his mouth to answer but France beat him to it. "How about we continue this inside?" he offered hopefully. England glared at him.
"Don't interrupt me, you damn frog. And yes, let's go inside." Without further direction he turned on his heel and strode over to the steps leading up the porch. "I'll make tea."
Lovino grimaced at the thought but he didn't say anything. At this point it would only be counterproductive to pick a fight with England, especially now that he had something to say that was of interest to Lovino. They all followed the shorter nation into America's house, although Lovino did feel kind of awkward being there without the aforementioned nation. Not that he was pining to see the hamburger-bastard or anything. It was just kind of weird, you know?
"Sit," England instructed, pointing to some chairs in the room they entered. The room was huge, with a massive television stuck on the wall and what looked remarkably like a dance floor, but nobody seemed to be paying it any mind. America really was an idiot, and a filthy-goddamn-rich one too.
Lovino sat down next to Spain on the loveseat, and he told himself multiple times that he didn't see France's eyes flash when he did. Fucking France. It felt good to say that again in his head, after that space of awkward time where he wasn't sure it was cool. Damn wine-bastard hadn't changed a bit.
England came out of an adjacent room just moments later, carrying a silver tea tray as carefully as possible. It definitely didn't look like the kind of thing America would carry around with him, so Lovino was fairly sure that England had brought it himself. He probably carried it around with him, just in case.
As he started to pour each person their own cup he began speaking.
"America is not, as far as I am aware, going to start a war. He is, however, going to launch a new force to fight the terrorism that Spain, here—" he gestured to the man in question, "—has so loving decided to initiate. Now, I'm sure you are perfectly capable of giving me some spiel about how it wasn't his fault but that is not what is in question here."
Lovino bit back some kind of rude remark, and Spain just blinked.
England sat down, taking his own cup of tea. "We tried talking with America, but he seems quite convinced that Spain is planning some kind of attack on the United States. That isn't the case, is it?" His voice held a warning.
"Of course not!" Spain looked shocked that England would even suggest it. "Why would I do that?"
"I have no bloody idea," England said irritably. "But you know America and once he gets an idea in his head a flaming bulldozer couldn't get it out." He took a dainty sip of the tea before continuing. "Somehow he's managed to rope Canada into this, the poor lad. America's being entirely insolent and he needs to understand that that is not the appropriate response."
"We believe if you can talk to Amérique you can explain this."
"I really didn't want this all to happen," Spain said sadly. "It's my fault."
Lovino glared at him. "Good. 'Cause if you planned all this I'd kick your ass," he muttered.
"Look, I do not hold a grudge. What is done is done. We have other things to worry about," France said, and for the first time in his life Lovino may have agreed with him.
"If you just have a chat with him he'll come around. He isn't completely insufferable, I've found. He just needs to understand that in this case war is not an option."
"Sure. Whatever. Where is he?" Lovino looked gestured around the room.
England's lip twitched. "He left. With Canada." Lovino could have sworn he heard a mumbled "wanker" after that but he couldn't be sure. "He'll be back. It was just a tantrum."
"So are we just gonna stay here until he gets back?"
"That would be preferable."
"Okay," Lovino suddenly stood up, arms crossed. "I need a bedroom."
Immediately he realized how his words had been taken. Or, rather, France's lewd snickers showed him. He made a noise of annoyance. "I mean I'm fucking exhausted and it's late."
Even more snickering. Lovino kicked France in the shin and the older man stopped laughing. "Driving must have been so tiring," France agreed, that goddamn smile still on his face. "Unless that was not all you were doing…"
"Fuck you," Lovino hissed. "I just need a little sleep and I don't trust any of you." At this Spain looked kind of hurt. "Whatever. I'll find it myself."
"Romano, wait," England sighed sharply. "We'll need you here when America returns. It won't be long, trust me."
"Then I'll take a nap."
"Really, it'll only be a few minutes. He just needed to settle down for a moment."
"And I'll just lie down for a fucking moment."
"Lovi, you can lean on me if you want…"
"Ah, you should, mon Roman. Antoine is quite comfortable…"
"Everyone quiet!"
England was looking quite irritated. "I thought I heard an engine. Listen."
The room was silent for a few moments before the faint sound of distant footsteps came to meet everyone's ears. There were some muffled voices but they were quiet too. Lovino stared at the door, not sure if he should sit back down or not.
"Artie! Who you got in there?"
America's voice was a surprise, and England nearly dropped his tea. "Spain and South Italy, you git! Now get in here so we can have a civilized conversation!"
America burst through the door, looking none too pleased with those inside. He was followed by another young man who looked remarkably similar…England had said his name but Lovino honestly couldn't remember. It didn't matter, though, because America started talking again.
"Finally! Geez, what took you so long?" He slid his arms out of his ancient bomber jacket and to Lovino's surprise he hung it up on a coatrack by the door. "I just got some stuff for you to sign and then everything'll be all cool, okay?"
Spain blinked, looking rather as though someone had tried to punch him. "What do you mean 'sign?'"
"Just some stuff so you don't go all crazy and do weird shit again. 'Cause we got enough of that back at the meeting, ya know?" He was laughing and Spain was looking more and more perturbed by the second. "Hey, hey. Chill. All I wanna do is put up a couple little bases just in case…"
"America, you aren't seriously going to try and sell this one to them, are you? It didn't work on us so—"
"Wait a minute," Lovino snapped, "You aren't fucking serious, are you?"
"It's not a big deal. I mean, it's just a couple guys here and there makin' sure Spain doesn't go all psycho and kill someone. Just to be safe, ya know?"
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but last time I checked you didn't really have anything to do with this, ya know?" Lovino was getting kind of pissed off and the last part came out just as mockingly as he'd intended.
"Look, unless Spain's planning on doing something like that again he should be fine with it, right? Of course, he could be on the bad side. Which is it?"
America's arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he was giving Lovino a look that made his skin crawl. It was so goddamn superior and like…like some little kid who didn't know who the fuck he was dealing with. Spain seemed to be expressing the same sentiments, but unlike Lovino he tried to smile.
"I suppose," he said lightly. "If it's only for a little while." Lovino looked at him incredulously. What?
"Hey, he's not going to do anything," Lovino promised, eyes dark. America wasn't going to get away with fucking around in Spain like he owned the place. No more military bases, at least not on Lovino's watch.
"You don't really have anything to do with this, do you?" America asked in that same stuck-up tone of voice. Lovino was seething.
"Lovi, calm down. It's okay…"
"Yeah," America agreed. Lovino was about to give Spain a few choice words when America cut him off. "Anyway, you pretty much caused this whole thing so you should probably leave it alone." With this he pulled a hamburger from his bomber pocket, unwrapping it.
Spain froze. Lovino opened his mouth to start bitching America out but was stopped mid-sound.
"What did you say?"
Immediately all eyes snapped to Spain. He was staring down at his knees, but there was no mistaking his balled-up fists. Shit. Not again.
"Spain…don't." Lovino didn't know what else to say. "He's not worth it."
America started laughing through an obscenely large bite of hamburger. "Dude, he got you whipped."
"America, I think you should leave," England said, regarding Spain warily.
"Why? It's my house."
"Come on," a tiny voice said. Lovino watched as the young man he'd seen follow America in tugged at his arm. Lovino had forgotten he was standing there.
"What the hell? It was just a joke." He turned to Spain. "Sorry, dude."
Lovino saw Spain relax a little. Good. So maybe he wouldn't flip over this like he had before. Now they just had to find a way to shut America up so he didn't do anything else stupid. Lovino scowled at the younger nation.
"He's not gonna sign anything."
"Terrorism is deep shit," America said, "We gotta do something about it."
"It was a freak thing. Leave it the hell alone."
"Would you let him talk? Geez, you're suffocating him," America said, eyebrows raised. With another bite he finished the hamburger, balling up the wrapper in his fist.
"Ah, Amérique? I think it would be best if you left Antoine alone for a moment…"
"He won't do anything to you when I'm around," America said firmly. "He couldn't."
"That's not the point, git," England said, voice condescending. "Matthew, could you go make America some pancakes or something?"
The other young man nodded. Matthew? He tried pulling on America's arm again, but his brother wouldn't move. Lovino huffed.
"Suffocating him? At least I'm not trying to force him to fucking give up his own land. Asshole."
"Lovi?"
Lovino's eyes shot down to Spain, who was perched on the couch rather uncomfortably.
"I'll handle this." He stood, putting a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Sit. It'll be okay."
There was a moment of silence before Lovino nodded. He sighed sharply, sitting down on the couch hard. America grinned, and it was disgusting.
"Finally. Man, if I had to deal with that all the time I'd probably shoot someone too."
It was said jokingly, but the moment the words came out of America's mouth Lovino knew…he just knew.
It happened too fast for anyone in the room to process, but then America was on the floor and Spain was on top of him. Immediately England jumped up, his cup of tea crashing and splattering the liquid all over the ground. France froze, watching the scene with wide eyes as punches started flying. America was fighting back, but Lovino knew how Spain could get in these kinds of situations. Goddammit. Lovino had no idea what to do.
America was yelling all kinds of profanity as he struggled not to be beaten, but Spain was eerily silent. The shouts ended abruptly, however, as two hands closed around America's throat. He froze solid, staring incredulously up at Spain. He was already starting to get a bruise under his left eye.
That was when the other young man…Matthew…came rushing forward. He pulled at Spain's shoulders, trying to get him off of America. He was small, though, and when Spain was like this he was no match. The back of a fist collided with the side of Matthew's face, sending him staggering back. He tripped, falling backwards and hitting his head.
America made some kind of strangled noise before starting to wrestle his way out of Spain's grasp. Lovino watched in horror as the younger nation landed a punch square on Spain's jaw, popping it to the side. As Spain's hands retracted America leaped forward, slamming the smaller nation down to the floor.
England decided that it was about time to act, and he rushed forward to wrap his arms around America's waist and pull him back. How he managed to get the young man up and back had Lovino at a loss, but then again he wasn't sure he had much to lose at this point. Either way he joined England, coming up to pull Spain back as the older man tried to leap for America again. He squeezed his eyes shut, arms tight around Spain's chest.
"Stop it, you fucking bastards…" he hissed. Shit shit shit. They'd been trying to avoid war but now…goddammit, Spain! He just had to go and fuck everything up, didn't he?
"Nobody touches Mattie, got it?" America shouted, trying to fight his way out of England's grasp. "I'm gonna fucking nuke your ass!"
Lovino swallowed thickly, trying to clear his head. Suddenly he felt fingers close around his wrist, and his arm was jerked forward. He cried out as Spain jumped to his feet, dragging the young Italian man with him. Lovino could barely see, could barely think as he found himself pulled along at an impossible speed, past America, out of the house, down the porch steps.
He heard a voice yelling and it took him a moment to realize that it was his own. "Let me go, goddammit! Why do you always have to fuck things up like this? Let me go!"
The car door was opened and Lovino was hefted inside. He slapped Spain across the face but there was no reaction. He could do nothing as he heard the door slam closed and another open. Spain jumped into the driver's seat, and Lovino could hear keys in the ignition. He was in the back seat, and he shot up as he felt the car pulling back.
"Why do you have to fucking do shit like that? You're an idiot, you fucking bastard! I hate you! Let me out and go back in to fucking apologize, you goddamn—"
"Shut up."
Lovino's eyes went wide and he was silent.
…
The hotel room was nearly pitch black, save for the flickering television lights. Germany kept his eyes glued to the screen, sitting unmoving on the bed.
"…in these videos you can see the the bombs destroying this portion of the downtown area. The casualties have now climbed to over four hundred and as volunteers at the Fire Department start their search through the rubble I'm sure that total will rise…"
Germany swallowed thickly, glancing down at the sleeping figure lying peacefully in his lap.
Feliciano's arms were tucked into his body, with one hand on Germany's knee. After a moment he glanced back up at the television.
"…another series of attacks in Toronto have also fueled the decision, where the death count is reported to be heading toward seven hundred at the moment…the President gave an emergency address just a few minutes ago regarding the nature of these terrorist attacks…"
Germany felt the familiar pricks in his stomach as he took in the information. At this point war was practically imminent. And…he swallowed thickly, eyes flicking unconsciously back down to Feliciano…and if Romano was going to ally himself with Spain…he stopped that thought there and brought his hand up to rest on Feliciano's head. No. There could be no war. They had treaties to prevent that. They had rules. And rules would always win in the end. They would.
Feliciano rolled onto his back, head cradled in Germany's lap. He was so quiet when he slept, so sweet…so vulnerable. This would not be easy on him.
So Germany let him sleep, a luxury he knew would not be available to him tonight.
...
So that's how it goes. This is actually the longest chapter so far, aren't you proud?
All I can say is that I'm sorry, Alfred. I love you, you're my favorite character, but sometimes you're a douche. And I'm sorry to Canada as well, for getting kind of beaten up.
I think you all know what this means, though. It means war. And war is not going to be a pretty thing. It never is. I don't think I realized how long this fanfiction was shaping up to be, but what can you do? Thank you to everyone who reads this :D
I was in a languages-type mood when I was writing the first part of this (then again...I'm always in a languages mood) so here are the translations. I speak some Italian and I've taken six years of Spanish so...yeah.
Italian: I think you can figure out what Feliciano says, but here is the majority of his rant, translated: "...and so then I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't just go back to my room without pants, right? It was embarrassing, and I thought I was gonna have to grab a towel but there were none left! So I saw my brother's pants and I didn't think-" a sip of hot chocolate "-so I put them on and left but I didn't know that he was coming back for them. So I said to myself that I was going to put them back if he wanted them but then I forgot. So then later..."
fratello ed io: brother and I
...al negozio, e un uomo con un cane voleva comprare la nostra casa...: ...to the store, and a man with a dog wanted to buy our house...
Spanish: Tu voz es como música...tus ojos son más hermosos que las estrellas...todo el mundo está celoso de tu sonrisa...: Your voice is like music...your eyes are more beautiful than the stars...the whole world is jealous of your smile...
No me importa: I don't care
So yeah. That's kind of it. I'd be amazingly happy if you would all review! I mean, you don't HAVE to, but reviews are like chocolate...and you can never give enough chocolate to a starving writer...
Thank you and I'll see you next chapter :D