Okay, so in this chapter, there is this whole "Sicilian is a language not a dialect STUUUUPIIID" thing going on, and some of you might disagree, but I'm basing this on the fact that Italian originates from Tuscan... or something. I dunno, the Sicilians I've met seem to be very hell-bent on that topic of discussion, so I pegged Romano to be similar. ANyways, enjoy the read~

"What are you doing?" Romano asked as he watched the Spaniard on the other bed skim through the pages of their newly acquired booklet, a look of confusion on his face that was plainly evident.

"I'm trying to understand what this part of this book thingy means, but it's written in a language other than English," Spain answered, holding one of the pages up to the Italian's face and pointing to the words. After only a quick glance at the text, Romano frowned and flicked the Spaniard's nose with force.

"Idiota! This is lingua siciliana, and if you bothered to look hard enough you would have noticed… maybe," he added, sending a doubtful look in Spain's direction. The taller man scratched the back of his head, inspecting the words carefully to find that it was the Southern Italian nation's native language written in the booklet.

"But why is there Italian in here?" Spain asked. Romano winced at the question, irritated by the fact that the Spaniard had made the same mistake he had done centuries earlier.

"Sicilian; NOT Italian. They are two completely different languages, sciosso, and if you argue by stating that it is merely a dialect then I'll have to impale you with something sharp," the feisty man threatened, eyeing his former caretaker with murderous intentions.

When people believed that Sicilian was a mere dialect compared to Italian, it drove the Mediterranean personification crazy; Sicilian was proclaimed a language before Italian [which derived from Tuscan to begin with]. Knowing that he had struck a nerve, the Spanish nation nodded his head in understanding.

"Lo siento, Roma, let me rephrase; why is there Sicilian in here?"

"Non lo so, maybe they're just being considerate or something. After all, the first few pages are in Español and they say the same thing that the Sicilian does," he then observed the written language and clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Although whoever wrote this shit clearly doesn't know what they're doing because this is so hard to understand with all the grammatical errors; we're better off reading the English." Spain nodded and turned a few pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Okay then, I'll read it out loud while you're doing… whatever it is you're doing. What are you doing, Roma?" the Spaniard asked as he watched Romano scan large maps that were scattered on the floor around him. Some of the papers had certain points that were imprinted with a large 'X' while others displayed long lines and small side notes written in pen. He momentarily looked up from his studying and glared at the airheaded nation holding their booklet, tapping his pen on a foldable map of California.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Obviously, we need to know the routes we're going to drive along and the like, so I'm going over maps of American states; we kind of need to be prepared," he stated, and then picked up one of the brochures he had swiped from the downstairs lobby [titled 'Travelling through America for the First Time']. "This says that most states have different speed and traffic laws, which I guess makes sense. And apparently flashing your lights is usually considered a sign of road rage or something instead of courtesy."

"Well that's kinda odd," Spain commented. Romano shook his head in agreement.

"Yeah, it is. Also, we have to maintain at least half a tank of gas because this country is fucking huge and tends to have expanses of nothing-ness at the side of the road sometimes. Ridiculous, I tell you! It even says that we need all these documents and shit in order to drive freely from state to state! There are too many rules!"

The Italian silently fumed, provoking his signature pout to appear on his crimson face. Spain inwardly gushed at the cute display and walked over to sit on the floor near the spot where Romano was. He care freely ruffled the flustered man's auburn hair with a beaming smile.

"Now, now, I'm sure that every law has a reason, no? Anyways, if you wouldn't mind stopping what you're doing so that I can read this pamphlet, that'd be nice," the Spaniard said, earning a grunt in reply. Typical Roma, he thought to himself as Spain scanned the page in order to find a good starting point.

"Okay then, I'll begin with the opening letter:

'On behalf of the team assembled in order to ensure an enjoyable experience in the Annual Nationwide Organized Event for Personifications, we thank you and your companion for acquiescing to join us. In this booklet should be information that proves to be helpful throughout your travels as you continue your pursuits. From road laws to nationally accepted courtesy directed towards the locals, all common concerns are found in the following pages. For more information, you can contact one of our partners at this number: XXXXXXXXXXXX

Warm regards,

Mister United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Coordinator

Mister Republic of Singapore, Budget Analyst

Mister Swiss Confederation, Head of Security Supervision

Mister Kingdom of Thailand, Relations Adviser

Miss Socialist Republic of Vietnam, Events Manager.'"

As Romano listened to the names aforementioned, he was impressed by the nations that were involved in the organization of the scavenger hunt. The Southern Italian had never met some of the Southeast Asian countries but he always heard interesting stories about their culture… along with the mafia and black marketing going on in their countries [one could never be too informed, after all]. Although Romano could definitely see England taking charge of the entire project, being the type of person that he was.

Spain continued to read the booklet, going over guidelines and throwing in random side comments along the way that usually made the Italian use the palm of his hand to hide the grin that formed on his face. It was hard not to smile, seeing as the Spanish nation read everything with an idiotic and childlike sort of confusion. Sometimes he'd point to lengthy English words that no one in the day and age would most likely say, asking what it meant, and Romano would always reply with either "How the hell should I know, bastard?" or "Go get a dictionary and find out if you're so interested."

Still, he enjoyed his Spanish roommate's somewhat distracting presence as the Italian half listened while continuously mapping out different routes and rest stops near their destinations; he wanted to be as prepared as possible. Being so preoccupied and paranoid brought a smile to his face as he pondered on irrelevant things. A long time ago, the smaller nation probably would have felt daunted by their little adventure, but he was a different person present day.

During the handful of wars that he had been through, Romano learnt a trifle lot from the experience and allies around him. He became less frightened by his enemies[including Germany], joining the Resistenza Italiana during World War II behind his brother's back. It hurt to betray Italy, but Romano did it for the sake of his people and what he believed was right; gaining that sort of independence established new possibilities for the nation as an individual and as a country.

Even with the troubles he endured due to the Mafiosi, the Southern Italian grew and gained from every blunder that came his way, but that was what Romano was like. After the unification of the Italian peninsula and the ending of both world wars, something in the man changed. True, he had always been the kind of person that was adaptable to most modifications, but that was before the personification had witnessed the slaughtering of innocent humans and blameless civilians.

He began to feel disgusted with his very existence, and felt torn between his own desires and that of his people. Those were dark times for Romano, and he remembered each memory all too well, but every nation experienced those sorts of thoughts once in a while: remorse, self hatred, angst and the like. He was no different from anyone else, and even suspected that his brother felt so as well, maybe every once in awhile.

"Romano? Are you listening?" a Spanish accented voice questioned, snapping Romano out of his dazed state and back to reality. He looked up to meet concerned light green eyes searching his face for any signs of discomfort, all the while appearing to be notably confused.

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing, just keep talking," the Italian mumbled in return, noticing that he was almost finished with marking the routes and detours on each map. Ah, how time went by when he dreamt of his depressing past while drawing red 'X's on paper [sarcasm indicated here]. Spain gave his former charge another worried look, and then decided to drop the topic and continue reading form the booklet.

But as he recited the text out loud, the Spaniard would cast glances in Romano's direction often, finding the man staring off into space with dull eyes. No, that wasn't exactly the right word to describe it; more like lonely eyes. The kind that looked as if they had been thrown into a throng memories and reminiscence, enveloping the very existence that was Romano… or perhaps he was just thinking far too deeply… which was why the Kingdom of Spain never bothered thinking too often to begin with, for his imagination was quite wild and random.

He scooted closer to the Italian—noting that the other didn't regard the action—and carefully viewed the notes and marks that Romano had drawn on the scattered maps across the carpet. It was obvious that the Italian had become quite organized during the few centuries that they had been separated, but Spain wished to know what changed him and made him the way he was now. When Romano was younger he didn't care about the little details in the acts he carried out, but this new him was completely different. Compared to the little child that quivered in fear from the smallest creak, this Romano was able to stare his problems down with determination.

But Spain knew that the Italian's core was still the same: fiery and alive as ever. He would always be the person that made the Spaniard's heart race; be it his voice, eyes or touch that evoked the impulses in the older nation's chest. And so Spain couldn't contain his yearning to know more about what he had missed in those years of separation. It may or may not have been his business in the least, but it mattered to the man very much. So he decided to pry, just this once.

"Romano? ¿Estás bien?" he asked, watching Romano as the smaller nation jolted with surprise written clearly on his features. The Italian considered lying and shrugging it off as if his thoughts were nothing, but they weren't. And for some reason, he felt fine with trusting Spain when it came to his emotions, perhaps because of the grand support the Spaniard could show during desperate times, or just because he loved him. Either way, he shook his head in response.

"No, Spain, I'm not fine. I just… got a bit distracted by irrelevant memories. That's all."

"From the past, Roma?" the Spanish country asked, receiving an exasperated sigh from the man seated beside him on the carpet.

"Yes, bastardo, from the past," he confirmed, finding the courage to turn his head and meet his love's curious green eyes. Like the beautiful Mediterranean, or a forest under the afternoon sunset. Romano's eyes softened as he felt Spain's hand clutch his own, influencing heat to inflame upon the Southern Italian's face. It was bewildering how one small and gentle gesture could affect his body in such a passionate way, and yet it did. Time and time again, Spain's presence always brought confusion and euphoria together as one.

"I don't mind that you're not fully paying attention, Roma; it's good to slow down and think once and awhile. But if you ever feel the need to talk—or just to be comforted, in general—I'm always here, right?" The honesty and conviction in Spain's voice made the sound of Romano's heartbeat pound in his ears, drawing more blood to the already crimson nation's face. Nonetheless, he tried to stay as motionless as possible and nodded slowly, but in reality the man was shaking with warm feelings that were far too familiar to his senses.

"I-I.. That's right." And then the Italian felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily move until it formed a smile. A natural and heartwarming expression that lit his brown rimmed, gold flecked green eyes. The Spanish man observing said grin felt his entire body tremble with awe and passion as he drank the sight of Romano's face like he was dying of thirst. How beautiful my love looks in the dim light. Without thinking, Spain moved his arm around the smaller nation's shoulders and used his hand to press the other's head against his own.

Romano was certainly surprised by the gesture, but it wasn't like he didn't enjoy the feeling of leaning on the Spaniard. So, without any protests whatsoever, he complied with the position and closed his eyes, enjoying the deafening silence of their hotel room. Spain would have burst from happiness—had Romano not been present—and deeply wished to place a chaste kiss on his love's admirable lips, but he knew that doing such a thing was going too far.

That's alright, because I can wait; after all, I'm used to waiting.

Both men wanted 'it', but 'that' particular thing wasn't spoken of between the two, either because of their lack of confidence or shyness towards the other person; it was like there was an elephant in the room [or in their case, floating hearts and cupids].

Once again, they were going in circles, and Romano was sick of it. He was tired of wasting his precious time with the equally flustered Spaniard near him, never to express his true emotions. Noticing that the Italian's head had shifted slightly, Spain turned to find a piercing stare burning into his line of vision. All he could do was stay quiet and hope that what he was waiting and expecting to happen next did, in fact, occur.

"Tengo que decirte algo, España," he uttered in Spanish, his voice merely a whisper, although both could hear just fine due to the close range of their faces. The two personifications were staring into each other's eyes and exhaling with steady, heated breathes that made the atmosphere around them feverish and tainted. Was it lust? Was it love? No, it was definitely both and more.

Love, lust, passion, romance, yearning and a hint of uncertainty.

"¿Sí?" the older nation questioned, his gaze never breaking away from Romano's. The Spaniard and the Italian shared equally red faces and muddled feelings in their guts, but neither cared in the least; they were too caught up in the moment to acknowledge the minor details. Romano slightly parted his lips, preparing to speak the words that the both of them had awaited hearing for centuries, when suddenly they heard a quiet knock on the door.

And then two more. And then three more. Followed by seven bangs on their hotel door.

Frankly speaking, Romano was nearing his boiling point as he realized that yet another one of their rare and intimate moments was ruined. Spain groaned in frustration and reluctantly, slowly, he walked over to the door and swung it open, glaring at the hotel employee with intense malice.

"May I help you, Miss?" the Spanish nation asked with an acidic tone bordering dangerous. It reminded Romano of the times when his former caretaker would speak to his enemies with such uncharacteristic coldness that would make any shiver in fear. The young woman looked terrified and on the verge of tears, when Italy happened to appear out of nowhere from behind her and pulled Spain out into the hallway, shutting the door behind the taller man. Romano just blinked in confusion and then decided to forget what had just happened altogether, entering their bathroom to freshen up and prepare for bed.

Spain stared down on Italy's cheerful face, blatantly annoyed beyond belief with both the female and his love's younger brother. The Italian assured the woman that the conversation he was planning would only take a moment, and after watching her disappear down the corridor, his expression changed completely. Instead of his usual sunny smile, the Northern part of Italy appeared to be frowning and glaring menacingly at Spain, of whom was thrown off by the sudden change.

"What were you and mio fratello doing just now, hmm? Why was he on the floor? Why did he look so red and 'tomato faced'? And more importantly, why are you just as red and flustered and disappointed looking? Do explain, big brother Spain." And then the Spaniard understood why he was being privately spoken to in the empty hallway; it was an interrogation. Italy had noticed the scene [and possibly atmosphere] in their hotel room and appeared to be displeased by what he saw.

Or maybe all he wants is an explanation, which is harmless enough… Except for the fact that there is no way of explaining what happened back there without angering Feli; I'm sure of that, because I know that he has a… protective side as well.

"Um, we were just looking over our booklet and checking maps and stuff, that's all~!" Spain answered as he tried to keep the composure he desperately tried to maintain evident to the younger nation. But Italy did not look convinced, and he narrowed his eyes with a doubtful look.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Spain. Don't you ever make that mistake again." The Spaniard gulped quietly and nodded his head, though he still maintained eye contact with Italy. "Just what do you plan on doing with my brother after all these years of not getting in touch with him? You never called and you didn't even try asking me about him for all this time!" The Italian then curled his fists into balls and glowered at Spain in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable. "You are obviously planning something."

Shocked, the taller nation didn't know what to say after that accusation and continued staring at Italy. Then he found his composure and gently patted the younger man's shoulder, ignoring the glare he received.

"I'm not scheming or planning or whatever it is you think I'm doing. True, it has been a long time since he and I have seen each other, and I do blame myself for being so weak, but that doesn't mean I have an ulterior motive right now or ever. Feli, I have missed Romano for quite some time, and now that I finally have the chance to spend time with him I'm not going to mess things up-" he was then cut off by Italy's harsh words.

"No, you don't understand. Y-You just don't! Like many of us, Fratello had a hard time during the world wars and it changed him, for better and for worse. He's a different person, and I can see from the way you act around brother that you have feelings for him. But my brother is not ready to open his heart.. yet. Why must you feel the need to rush things and sweep him off his feet even though the two of you only met again a few days ago? You obviously make him uncomfortable!" Italy questioned, his stare burning through the Spanish nation's gaze as if he was trying to get his point across telepathically.

But that didn't discomfort Spain, for he was far too distracted by his immense feelings of anger towards the shorter personification. He's just assuming these things, isn't he? Feliciano isn't even considering my feelings in this situation—though brothers do come as a priority so I understanding that—and he automatically spews the first things that come to his mind. Instead of lashing out all his frustration and inner thoughts on the equally cross Italian, the Spaniard decided to use a more mature and relaxed tone with his words, despite his increasing fury.

"Listen, Italy, I don't think you even know how Romano feels about our reunion. Haven't you tried talking to him about it? He may not be honest with his emotions all the time, but Romano told me himself that he doesn't mind being around me, and he'd like for us to hang out more in the future," Spain stated with hidden satisfaction. He wanted his love's brother to know that even Romano wished for them to be around each other more, so HAH! No matter how immature it seemed, it just made the Spaniard happy.

"And how about your perspective on this situation?" Italy questioned, not fully trusting what he had heard to be the truth or in the best interest of his elder brother.

"I already told you that I don't have any hidden agendas other than to spend time with Roma, but… you are correct about my attraction to your brother," he added, nearly reducing his voice to a whisper. Italy didn't seem surprised by the proclamation and decided that he wasn't fully satisfied with the halfhearted confession.

"And how far do these feelings go? Is it lust? Or is it simply small fondness?" the Italian questioned with obvious agitation in his voice. Spain's eyes twitched, indicating the rather obvious fact that he was pissed off by the inquisition. He would never toy with Romano and string the nation along just to get in bed with him, nor did he find it possible to hold simply fondness for someone as amazing as his love. So, while looking Italy directly in the face and keeping a serious expression, the Spanish personification answered the only way he knew possible to such a question.

"I love him. I adore him. I'm drawn to him. Nothing less than that and so much more than that. But the one thing I will not do is take advantage of Romano, or invade, or violate… without his consent," Spain annexed quietly, watching as the younger nation's eyebrows furrowed and gave a doubtful look to his youthful features.

"You think he loves you? What makes you so sure?" Italy asked, receiving a small and hesitant smile from the Spaniard.

"Who knows. Although sometimes it really seems that way, and it makes me want to pull out my hair when I think too much about it. But I do know that he likes me, and like can turn into love if I try hard enough. Regardless, I still won't touch him inappropriately until I'm accepted; I can promise you that." After a few long winded seconds of the Italian's relentless observation, he shook his head and backed away from Spain.

"I still don't trust you enough to let you be alone with my brother, but I suppose he can take care of himself; after all, if you become too troublesome he can just shoot you~!" the Northern Italian assured, saying the last part with a shiver-inducing smile on his face which unnerved the taller nation to his very core. "And trust me, big brother Spain, fratello happens to be a very good gunman, and he never misses. Ever. And neither do I."

After bidding farewell with a cheery "Ciao~!" and disappearing into the elevator, Spain let out a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding in. That night, the Spaniard had learnt firsthand just how scary the Northern part of Italy could be if he tried.

"What took you so long?" Romano asked as he watched an exhausted looking Spain fall face first on his bed. His brother and the Spanish nation had spent a long amount of time outside, and it made the Italian curious as to why that was the case. Being far too tired to lift his face from the soft sheets of his bed, the Spaniard rolled over so he was lying on his back and looked up to meet an upside down Romano's face.

"Mmm, your brother and I were just talking about some stuff," he answered, taking a quick glance at the book the Italian was reading before turning his attention back to the man's face. Romano looked relaxed and a little tired, but he did clean after himself before getting into bed, which proved to Spain that he had changed.

"Really now? You two sure took a fucking long time."

"Yup." Wanting to go to bed, the Italian nation dropped the subject and laid his head against the pillow, inhaling the intoxicating scent of lavender. Spain entered the bathroom to get ready, and after getting into his bed and leaning back against the mattress, he turned to face Romano. The younger nation was staring at him with such intensity that it made Spain blush immediately, and then he looked away. Had what he seen been true? Why did his love seem to glow with such a calm happiness?

Suddenly, he felt a shadow cast over his body as the Spanish nation lifted his face and met loving eyes staring into his own. Spain couldn't move, think, or breathe at that moment, for the Italian was so close to him that their noses almost touched. And then Romano moved forward a bit, lightly pressing his lips against the uncovered part of the Spanish personification's forehead. It was a long, sweet sort of kiss that made the back of Spain's forehead cold yet warm [if such a sensation could be explained] and he felt dizzy.

"Buonanotte e sogni d'oro mia cara," he said in a hushed tone against the Spaniard's forehead, leaving the older man lost for words. Spain didn't understand what had compelled the Italian to do such a thing or what half of the sentence meant, but he did know that the meaning behind those words was loving and meant for someone special.

"B-Buenas noches, Romanito. Que duermas bien." And then both men turned away in their respective beds, hearts beating faster than their average rate.

The truth was, Romano heard nearly everything that his brother and Spain had said. It wasn't hard to hear nor did he intend to eavesdrop, but both nations were being rather loud so it was out of his control. Through different phrases, the Italian heard his name and words like 'feelings' and 'lies'. He didn't know what to make of it, but then Romano heard a sentence uttered, and it was as clear as any other that had been said.

"I love him."

The voice obviously belonged to Spain, and it made the younger nation's head spin with questions when he picked up on the honesty hidden in the confession. Him? Did 'him' mean Romano? Sudden realization then dawned on him; yes. Yes it did. The Spaniard was in love with him, and that alone made his blood travel faster throughout his veins and all the way to his crimson face. All the colours in the room seemed to become brighter, and Romano opened his eyes so wide that the edges of his vision became blurry.

Love. Love. He loves me. He was so straightforward and sounded candid judging from the tone and volume of his voice.

He loves me… and I love him. It's too right. It's just too perfect to be true. Was I just hearing things? No, that definitely was not my imagination.

Tears made his eyesight hazy as he curled into a ball on his bed and stared at the darkness that filled their hotel room. The goodnight kiss was very bold, but no amount of words could have expressed the joy and confusion that Romano had felt. They weren't sad tears; they were happy ones. The Italian was so delighted that he wanted to jump out of bed and tackle his Spanish love interest, confessing his true emotions and whispering reassuring words into the older man's ears. He knew it would be easy to explain feelings to Spain now that he saw a light at the end of the tunnel, Italy be damned if he didn't understand what they shared.

Romano knew that his younger brother only thought of what was best for him—and he was grateful for the interrogation mainly because he found out about his crush's feelings for him due to that event—but if it got in the way of their relationship progression, the Italian would confirm his feelings to Italy. No matter what happened from then on, Roman refused to let anything get in his way.

I want to kiss you right now. I want to jump out from under these stupid sheets and make you mine. Can I? Am I allowed to touch you, since I've already seized your heart? No, I have to be smart about the way I approach things from now on; I will make sure you know how I feel about you.

I'll be the first one to say "I love you too."

The next morning, Spain and Romano entered the lobby with both of their belongings, watching other partners dart throughout the large room. England seemed to be talking to each pair individually, giving time for the Spaniard to realize that they'd have to talk to the Englishman as well. Oh great. Before they could claim a place to seat, America popped out from nowhere and beamed brightly at his two fellow nations. Romano groaned, the memory of last night's occurrence still fresh in his mind. The Spaniard next to him, however, remained neutral and grinned at the American in return.

"Good mornin' dudes, had a nice sleep?" the young superpower asked in a friendly manner.

"Yup, we were just going over the booklet before we went to bed, so we're well rested now," Spain answered with an equally cheerful face. The shorter nation next to him just grumbled something inaudible similar to "none of your fucking business, burger bastard" and watched his brother and Germany with murderous eyes.

"Ah, well that's good. So since your guy's course is really long and the roads can be real hectic, I got the most epic ride for you two! AHAHAHAHAH!" Romano perked up a bit after hearing that statement, interested in whether or not the American had any taste in vehicles. After both European countries bid farewell to their friends and acquaintances, America led them to the car park where their 'epic ride' was. The Italian's eyes widened with shock.

"A Jeep Wrangler?" he asked, examining the mechanism with the eyes of an expert.

"IT'S TOTALLY AWESOME RIGHT? This baby has forty percent more horsepower than previous models, can go through snow and mountains like a boss AND the seats are SUPER comfy!" America boasted, giving both men a slight push so they could get a closer look at the mechanic beauty. The Mediterraneans liked the black forest green colour and noted that it was an open-air car perfect for enjoying nature, another common favourite of the two men.

"Thanks America, it's a great car~!" Spain acknowledged, shaking hands vigorously with the laughing nation.

"Glad ya like it! How 'bout you, Romano?" the American questioned, his energetic blue eyes unnerving the grumpy Italian a bit [hey, it was early in the morning and he had to deal with his Spaniard and America]. He sighed and threw his things into the back of the Jeep, ignoring the victorious smiled that were sent his way by two rather excited countries.

"Yeah, it's okay," Romano responded simply, climbing into the passenger's chair and fastening the seatbelt [the seats really were comfy]. After thanking America once more, Spain ignited the engine and drove onto the highway, watching his Italian companion pull out a foldable map with many red marks on the paper.

"It'll take us around nine hours to get from here to Cape Cod," he said, smoothing out wrinkles on the map.

"Umm, which state is that in again?" the clueless Spanish nation asked, receiving a groan from the man next to him.

"Massachusetts, idiota. Now pay attention, I know you suck at reading a map [which is why I let you drive] so I'm going to be the one giving directions."

"Ah, gracias Roma. But you know, I was once a Conquistador back in my day and sailed the seas in search of treasure and land, so I do know quite a bit about travelling," Spain stated with satisfaction and a little pride. Romano just snorted.

"Yeah, on water. Not to mention you just read stars and shit and kind of wandered aimlessly, not giving a fuck where you ended up. We're driving now, old man, so just shut up and listen to my instructions." The Italian then playfully slapped his driver's arm, making said driver laugh hysterically before he could regain composure [then again, Romano had slipped a smile as well].

"Si, I'm all ears Roma." Then he flashed 'his' younger Italian a charming smile, making the other blush madly. "And don't be so mean to me, mi tomate, I may be old but I certainly don't act my age, do I?" After a few seconds passed by, Romano's stoic mask fell and he made a large grin that led to a fit of giggles.

"Yeah, you act like a kid! The micro nations have better behavior than you! Ahahah!"

"Hey! No seas malo!"

Well, this chapter was a bit uneventful in my point of view, but it is necessary in order to make the story seem complete and without empty spaces [i-if anyone actually understands what that means].

So yeah, Romano knows that Spain loves him! YAY~! Seriously, I'm so happy because now the climax of the story is nearing... I think. Of course, I'm still going to write about the scavenger hunt, just with more romance and stuff.

I'm sorry [no I'm actually not] but I love writing America in any story, be it romance, humor or angst; his character is just so colourful and fun yet it has it's serious sides. :D And has anyone noticed my insane obsession with cars yet? Well then, that's exactly what I have, but that's what happens when you have two older brothers as role models.

Anywaaaays, hope you enjoyed the read and thanks to those that commented/followed/lurked and whatnot OwO