Yay, here we go again! And another long chapter, too!

I haven't mentioned it in a while, so I'll just remind everybody that I don't, in any way, shape, or form, own Hetalia. However I dearly wish it were so (though it would be a full-fledged yaoi if I did! xD).

Aftermath

"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name." -André Breton

Romano felt his gut lurch as he turned to see Spain being held captive by their mobster-to-be friend. He was grimacing in pain, and Romano was running towards him before he really knew what was happening. "Spain!" he shouted, but Spain had already been hit with a powerful punch, right to his temple. Romano watched as his knees started buckling and knew that he would black out.

As Romano reached the two men, he simultaneously grabbed a fistful of Spain's shirt to keep him from falling to the ground and kicked their adversary in the knee, crying "You bastard!" He might have put a little more force into his kick than was necessary; he heard and felt something crunch and the man fell to the ground, clutching his leg and shouting in pain. But Romano could hardly hear him, all his attention being claimed by the man in his arms.

Romano had managed to prevent Spain from hitting the pavement, but he was totally gone. He was completely limp in Romano's grip. Guy must have a hell of a right hook…

He half dragged, half carried Spain out to the street, glad to get out of the dank, smelly place. No one was around, which suited Romano just fine. He'd rather people didn't get involved with his business. Gently, he lowered Spain to the sidewalk and knelt beside him.

What would probably turn out to be a brilliant bruise was already forming near Spain's right eye. Romano carefully brushed Spain's hair aside so he could see his face better. The skin looked a little puffy and reddish, though Romano knew it would deepen to a nice purple later on.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know that?" He sighed and wondered what he should do now. What if he has a freaking concussion or something? Could I just take him to the hospital, or…? Then Spain's eyelids fluttered and a groan escaped his mouth. Romano's heart suddenly thudded in his chest, expectant and anxious. "Spain?" he said, grasping Spain's closer arm in an attempt to relieve an impulsive urge to slap him in the face to wake him up. "Are you okay?"

Spain turned his head to the side, now facing Romano's knee, but he didn't open his eyes. "Hey, Spain?" Romano asked, tilting his head so he could look at Spain's face more easily. He was a little worried. If Spain didn't wake up, then he'd be held responsible. And if he never woke up…well, suffice it to say, his boss would kill him. And who knows what would happen to the country of Spain if its personification was in a coma.

And I'd have lost my only real…friend… he reminded himself, but he pushed that one out of his mind. It was uncomfortable on so many levels.

Spain's eyes twitched again. "Can you hear me?" Romano bit his lip and furrowed his brow, then tried, "Antonio?" The name felt unused and strange on his tongue, but it seemed to work.

Spain's eyes fluttered half open and he groaned, "Lovino?"

At the familiar sound of his own name, Romano let out a relieved breath and leaned back a little. "You gave me a freaking heart attack, letting that guy kidnap you. What the hell is wrong with you!"

Spain was squinting up in the sunlight now, still blinking and trying to get his bearings. "Ugh… ¿qué pasó?" He put a hand to his head, gently feeling the tender area above his right eye. Then he seemed to properly notice Romano for the first time. "Lovino! It is you!"

"Duh," Romano replied shortly. He helped Spain sit up and lean back against the wall beside them.

"Wow, my head hurts," Spain said, still managing to laugh weakly despite the obvious pain he was in. "Was it…that guy?"

Romano nodded, but didn't say anything else as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He chose Italy from the list of contacts and waited for him to pick up.

"Ve~ Lovino!" The standard greeting whenever Romano called him.

"Feli, come pick us up," he barked. He briefly explained where they were.

Italy sounded doubtful. "But you said I couldn't drive the car…"

"I know. But now I'm saying come get us!"

"…Are you tricking me?"

"No."

"You're lying! You're just gonna yell at me!"

Romano pressed the thumb and middle finger of his left hand to his temples, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. "Just get in the car and drive here fast and I promise…" he combed his mind for something to tempt Italy with, knowing that this back and forth could keep up for half an hour if he didn't stop it. "And I promise that you can get that cat you've been wanting."

Italy gasped with delight. "Mr. Mittens! I can-"

The rest was lost on Romano, because he hung up the phone. He shook his head and mentally began preparing himself for another cat in the house when he saw the expression on Spain's face and took a double-take. Spain was smiling gently, a softer, sweeter expression than his usual bright grin. Romano was distressed to feel his heart beat a little faster and his face blush as he felt that gaze on him.

"What?" he mumbled. He quickly turned away and looked down the street, as though searching for Italy, even though it had been far too little time for him to have driven there.

"I don't know. You're just a real cutie, you know that?" Spain laughed as Romano whipped his head around to give him a death glare.

"I'm not cute!" he spat, crossing his arms and feeling that involuntary pout forming on his lips. Why now, of all times! "You must have hit your head pretty hard, idiot."

Spain laughed softly again, but didn't say anything else. Romano averted his gaze once more, looking for Italy in earnest now. He became aware of Spain's right shoulder just barely touching his left, and wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Probably.

Then, remembering something he had intended to do, Romano pulled his cell phone back out. Glad for the distraction and an excuse to not talk to Spain for a minute, he called a nearby hospital and informed them of the men in the alley a short distance away. He thought that, after being dealt with by him, they could all use some medical treatment, especially the Suit.

After describing their location once more, he turned his phone off and slid it back into his pocket. Italy still hadn't made an appearance. Romano glanced to his left and found Spain sitting with his eyes closed now, face scrunched up a little in pain. He felt a twinge of guilt deep in his stomach at the sight.

He should have done what I said and waited in the car, but…he was just trying to help me. I guess the idiot really does care about me, huh?

He cleared his throat and said, "Uh, Spain? It would be okay if you wanted to…you know, stay another night at our house, and rest up a bit before you go home."

Spain's eyes opened and he looked at Romano delightedly. "Really? You'd do that?"

Romano was surprised at this reaction. "What? Of course. I'm not gonna force you to fly home in this condition…" He scowled a little. "I'm not evil, you know."

Spain laughed. "I know, I know! It just makes me…really happy. Gracias."

"Di niente," Romano answered. He even smiled a little at Spain's surprised laughter. "Feliciano should be here soon," he was about to say as Spain's laughter died down, but he was cut off.

"Lovino," Spain started in an unusually solemn voice. "I was wondering if we could talk about something…something maybe a little more serious…"

Romano's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious. "What?"

"See, Lovino, the thing is…" Romano, watching his face closely, noticed how Spain's eyes flickered to somewhere over his shoulder, and he stopped talking. Romano followed his gaze and seconds later realized that the car speeding toward them was his car. "Oh, Feli's here," Spain said, and though he smiled, he seemed a bit disappointed.

"What were you going to say?" Romano asked as the car door opened.

"Nothing. Never mind." Romano frowned, but let it go. In a second Italy was running toward them.

"Antonio! Lovino!" He waved and grinned, but then noticed that Spain wasn't looking so good. His face immediately shifted from excited to concerned. "Is something wrong? Are you okay!"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Spain said as Italy approached. Romano left the two of them discussing Spain's condition and climbed into the driver's seat. It was blissfully cool in the car and he sighed with relief.

He watched as Italy helped Spain stand and walk slowly to the car. He led him to the back seat and helped him get settled (though Spain kept protesting, telling Italy that he was fine) before he sat up front with Romano.

As Romano drove home, he glanced several times at both his brother and Spain in the back. Both of them looked distressed. Spain's eyes were closed again, and every bump they went over seemed to aggravate his headache. Meanwhile, Italy just looked depressed. His hair curl was drooping, never a good sign, and his face looked troubled. Romano knew that his little brother hated to see his friends get hurt, and he often found ways to blame himself even if he was totally uninvolved.

Turning his eyes back to the road, Romano's perpetual scowl deepened. He hated people that blamed themselves for other's problems. Why couldn't Italy just accept that, sometimes, bad things happened? Romano had. A long, long time ago.

…

It wasn't much longer before Romano had pulled up in front of his house. He and Italy stepped out of the car in practically perfect synchronization. Just one of those little, obnoxious, everyday reminders that they were maybe a little more alike than Romano ever wanted to admit. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, Italy went to open Spain's door, but Romano stopped him on an impulse. "I'll get him. Go inside and check his room, get him some water, close the curtains, and do whatever the hell else. I'll bring him upstairs."

Italy nodded, for once following orders without objection. As he ran off toward the house, Romano wondered for a second why he hadn't wanted Italy to help Spain. Maybe I was just a little…worried about him… He shook his head, dissipating the thought, though it lingered at the back of his mind as he opened the car door.

Spain smiled weakly up at him. "Where'd Feli run off to?"

"I dunno. He said he had to go inside and set your room up for you," he answered gruffly. No need to tell him the whole truth. It was embarrassing. He offered Spain his hand and helped pull him to his feet when he took it. Once he was out of the car, Spain hung an arm around Romano's shoulders, which seemed a little unnecessary to Romano, but he didn't complain. Spain really wasn't looking too good, so maybe he did need it.

He's totally enjoying this though, the bastard, Romano thought grimly as he shut the door and they slowly walked to the house. Spain put a lot of weight on him, but the Italian just grit his teeth and kept going.

Walking up the stairs was a fun little adventure that Romano could have lived without. Italy was behind them the whole time, shouting that he'd catch them if they fell, which really just made the situation worse in Romano's opinion. But they finally, finally, made it to Spain's room in one piece.

Romano lowered Spain down onto the bed and watched him as he got settled. Italy had done his job well; the curtains were closed and the room was nice and dark. The air conditioner was working perfectly, and the bedroom was very cool and pleasant.

"You gonna be okay, Antonio?" Italy asked Spain from the other side of the bed. He looked worried still, and was wringing his hands nervously.

Spain smiled. "Of course. I'm a nation, we bounce back from physical injury pretty fast, no? I'll be fine if I just rest for the day. I feel better already, really!"

Italy nodded solemnly, and, being tactful for once, said, "I'll leave you alone then. I'm making soup for dinner! I'll bring it up later!"

Romano watched his brother cross and exit the room, then picked up the icepack Italy had left on the bedside table for Spain. "Here. Ice that eye before it swells shut."

Spain took the ice and gingerly applied it to the side of his face. He hissed once at the cold on his tender skin, and then sighed as he got used to it. "Thanks."

"Well…" Romano felt distinctly uncomfortable all of a sudden, alone with Spain. "I'll go, too…"

"Wait!" Spain said as he started to move away. "Stay. For a little while, at least."

Romano blinked at him. "Why?" he asked after a moment, allowing his irritation to show in his voice. It's not like Spain was sick and dying; he was right, he'd probably be better in a few hours. He didn't need someone sitting at his bedside with him!

"Because I like spending time with you!"

"That's not a good reason, dammit!" Romano turned once more to leave, but froze as he felt a pressure on his hand. Glancing down, he saw that Spain had reached out to stop him and had grabbed his hand in the process. His heart beat a little bit faster and his face reddened as he turned on Spain, furious. "What!"

"Please. Just stay for a little while. A few minutes!"

There was something horribly desperate in Spain's voice and eyes that made Romano feel guilty to even think about leaving him alone. Jesus Christ…

"Okay! Fine! Five minutes." He crossed the room and pulled the desk chair over next to the bed. He sunk in the chair, sulking, and crossed him arms, scowling at Spain, who smiled pleasantly back at him.

"Good." He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, a content expression on his face.

"What the hell?" Romano asked. "You're just gonna go to sleep? Then why did you need me to stay!"

Spain didn't lift his head from the pillows, but turned towards Romano and opened his eyes. He already looked tired. He grinned sleepily. "I'll fall asleep better if you're here."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Romano muttered, sinking even lower into his chair and glaring at Spain, who'd closed his eyes again. Romano tried to keep a scowl on his face for the next five minutes, even though no one was watching, but found his forehead relaxing as he watched Spain slowly drifting off to sleep. It was hard to stay mad at a nearly sleeping guy who had a bruise engulfing half of his forehead.

"Lovino," Spain murmured softly a few minutes later, just barely awake now. "Thank you for taking care of me."

Romano didn't respond, but he could feel himself blushing again. What is it about this bastard? He always says the most uncomfortable things… But he found the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he watched Spain for a couple minutes more. His sleeping-self seemed to be making a ritual out of kicking his blankets off before shivering from the artificially cool air and pulling them back up. This cycle was repeated every couple of minutes as Romano watched, until he eventually took pity on him. He went to the closet and came back with a lighter blanket, which he spread over Spain the next time he pulled his own off.

"There ya go, bastard. Now you won't freeze your ass off every two minutes," he said with a hint of something akin to affection; as close as it got when it came to Romano, at least. It was a tone of voice he'd seldom heard himself use since he and Italy were little kids, and it surprised him even now as it came out of his mouth. He cleared his throat, as though something lodged there might have caused it.

Regardless, the different blanket seemed to do the trick, for Spain settled down and slept more soundly. Romano, feeling that he'd already reached his maximum on the kindness today, left the room in a hurry after that, suddenly worried that something might be terribly wrong with him.

…

Spain awoke to find himself alone in a dark room. He sat up and reached his hand out for the lamp on the table beside his bed. He clicked it on and braced himself for the wave of pain he was expecting at the bright light. But none came. To his relief, the only evidence that remained of that horrible headache he'd had earlier was just a low, dull pain that seemed to be fading away even now. He knew that even if he had been hit hard enough to get a concussion, he wouldn't have one any longer. It would already be healed.

I guess being a nation really does have its perks… he thought as he wondered how long a regular human would have taken to recover from the blow he'd recieved. Then he noticed a tray on the chair that Romano had been sitting in earlier. There was a bowl of some kind of vegetable soup, a spoon, a napkin, and a note on the tray. Spain picked up the note first.

We made this for you! It tastes good cold, too, so please enjoy, and feel better!

It was signed Feli and Lovi, though Spain could tell that Romano had very little to do with either the soup or the note. There was also a little heart next to the brothers' names, and at the sight of it, Spain heaved a sigh. It just reminded him of what he'd been trying to tell Romano earlier.

When he'd asked Romano if they could have a serious conversation, it had been with the intentions of telling him his feelings, which seemed to be growing stronger every second he spent with the Italian. He wasn't sure what about that specific moment had prompted a sudden confession, but after the concern Romano had shown for him, he'd simply felt the need to do it.

I just want to know if…he feels this way, too, Spain thought as he slowly stirred the soup in his bowl. He was feeling a lot better since his little nap, but he didn't have much of an appetite yet. Still, he took a sip of the broth and smiled. It was delicious, of course.

He put the soup aside, deciding it would be better to wait until he was hungrier and he could enjoy it more. Then he stretched his arms and back, thinking that maybe he should get up for a few more hours before he went back to bed, when he heard soft noises in the hall outside. When he looked up, he saw Romano leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, an uncharacteristically guarded expression on his face.

"Feel better?" he asked bluntly.

Spain nodded. "Much better. Thank you. Though…" he put a hand to the side of his head, where he'd been hit. The skin still felt a little puffy and sore. "I think I've still got a nice bruise here!"

Romano crossed the room, now looking slightly curious, despite himself. "Really? Let me see." He pushed some of Spain's hair out of his face, but the lighting was poor from the angle he was trying to see from. Spain could see him squinting to try and make it out.

"Here," he suggested softly, patting the bed next to him. Romano looked at it doubtfully for a second, but slowly lowered himself down to perch on the very edge of the bed. He made Spain turn his head slightly into the light, and then continued to examine him for signs of injury.

Spain could only look at the intent expression on Romano's face and listen to the blood pounding in his ears. His heart had been racing since Romano had touched his hair, and now he swallowed, hard. Romano was so close…only a few inches separated them…

"Yup, that'll be a hell of a bruise for another day or so," Romano was saying, but the words meant nothing to Spain anymore. He was just completely focused on watching Romano's face, especially his eyes. He'd never seen them so close up before, never noticed the way they were flecked with gold when the light caught them right. They were, in a word, beautiful.

Spain didn't even realize how much he was staring until Romano glanced over and caught him. However, he didn't look away or blush, but just smiled a little, waiting to see Romano's reaction. He was amused to see Romano glance at the floor as his own face became red, and then mutter something unsavory under his breath. Then he stood up, saying quickly, "Well, get some more sleep or something. I'll make Feli drive you to the airport tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Spain said, a little disappointed that Romano was leaving so soon, though not exactly surprised. But before Romano could leave the room, Spain called out to him. "Hey! Lovino!"

Romano didn't turn around, but he paused in the doorway, listening. Encouraged, Spain said, "Thanks, again, for this afternoon. I was glad that you were so…concerned about me." Again, he was curious to see Romano's response.

Romano seemed to bristle like a cat. He turned halfway around and starting shouting, "Concerned! I wasn't freakin concerned, I just…I thought…that bastard was…" He seemed stuck for words, and Spain, grinning at his consternation, waited to see if he would come up with something good. Romano continued spluttering, "You were all…ugh, never mind, what the hell would you know, anyway!" And with that, he left, slamming the door behind him, but Spain had seen, in the light from the hallway, that even the tips of Romano's ears had been red.

He really is cute, isn't he? Especially when he's trying to be mad. Spain laughed aloud to the empty room, and reached over and picked up the bowl of soup once more. Now that he was more awake, he thought he could finish it.

When he was done, he leaned back against the headboard and sighed, though it wasn't exactly an unhappy sound. Today had been long, tiring, and a bit painful, but Spain wasn't altogether displeased with what had happened. He'd figured out a lot.

I really like Lovino, and I think…I really do think he likes me back. I'll get him to tell me himself, someday.

Gah, another chapter! I posted much faster this time, huh? I think I was more excited to write after the last one. And I got so many reviews! Thank you, everybody who left one!

¿qué pasó?– What happened? (Spanish)

Gracias. – Thank you (Spanish)

Di niente – You're welcome (Italian)