[Disclaimer] Hetalia and all its likeness does not belong to me. No profits are being made off this story.
A Tomato Whose Name I Don't Know Yet
Chapter Eleven
It was the first time Spain had actually stopped one of France's advances. The action said more than any words could have. France curled his fingers together in retreat and they skimmed the side of Spain's face. His pulse was pumping fast under Spain's thumb, or was that Spain's pulse on him? It didn't really matter.
"A country doesn't get married based on love." Spain said in a low tone, green eyes meeting blue. "Love between countries is hard to come by."
France didn't know why Spain was acting so serious all of a sudden. Actually, France hadn't seen him since the day they'd gone over to Austria's house for a little… parlé, and now the brunette showed up with that silly civil union policy and—
Ah.
Spain was looking at him like his world had turned upside down, just like that day all those months ago. The day he'd been so happy about being able to propose to Romano and then getting it thrown back in his face.
And here he was, France, teaching Spain how to love again, running off to molest random countries, then handing Spain a civil union policy that said he didn't believe in what Spain did. That he would only let certain lovers be united on government paper, not by holy matrimony.
The comparison dug deep into his heart, because France could understand. It was like watching someone from one's window for so long, knowing you were together, but not in the same frame of mind.
"France… I—" Spain's fingers tightened.
"You're right." Bowing his head, more blond hair cascaded into France's face. It shadowed in a way that made his normally flirty blue eyes look strong.
"But loving you isn't as difficult as you think." France couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember."
Spain gaped. "So it is true."
France laughed and raised his eyebrows, his cheeks a healthy hue. He flexed his captured hand, the fingers brushing that chocolate brown hair. "Who told you such sap-ridden gossip?"
"Was that whole love lesson a way to get to me?" Spain asked with a grin the size of the sun, ignoring France's attempt to change topics. He yanked France close by his dainty wrist.
"Be honest." Spain leaned closer, a smaller modest smile stretched across his lips.
"What part of 'I've always loved you' don't you get? Mon dieu!" France told him slowly and bluntly but couldn't help the chuckles that bubbled up. Spain would always be really thick. "Although, I cannot help if my charms worked wonders on you." The side of his mouth spiked up in a charismatic smirk.
In truth, France hadn't even been trying. Loving Spain had always been something that came naturally to him.
Spain pulled his face close and out of the blue there was a kiss between the two nations, their lips brushing each other dryly for just a moment.
France closed his eyes. He was so close that his stubble scratched against the Spanish speaking nation's cheek.
Spain's voice was low and smooth in his ear. "You've stopped feeling me up and you go to other countries for pleasure when I'm right here. But you love me. Why haven't you ever tried?" He dragged his lips across the stubble and kissed France again, their noses brushing and breath hot.
The blonde nation gripped Spain's hips firmly and looked down his nose. "I suppose it should be obvious, but you're Spain after all."
Spain rolled his eyes. "And you're France."
The blonde walked them backwards a few steps. "A country can't be born, get married, have children, or die like a normal human being. A country can't do much all by himself. In fact, one of the only things he can do is love freely."
Spain grinned. "France…" He bit his lip to try and contain the emotion. His fingers dug roughly into those golden locks. Words tumbled forward, "You're very difficult to take seriously when you're a cat."
France raised his eyebrows and darted a quick lick to Spain's nose. "You could always just nod and pet me instead."
Spain was blushing. "If it's all the same to you, I don't feel like acting as a country right now."
"So you want to settle this like men?" France's eyebrow perked.
Spain shook his head, the side of his mouth quirked up into a half boyish grin.
He pulled off his shirt.
"Treat this like a battle." He grabbed France by the belt loops and dragged him backwards to the desk. His eyes were dark and inviting. "I have it on good authority this is one you're going to win."
France kissed him and immediately Spain was on his back amongst the papers. He'd definitely missed those wandering hands. In his pants.
"Mmm," France indulged; placing kisses all the way down to Spain's bellybutton, which was coincidentally, also named Barcelona. "So when's the appropriate time to tell you I'll never change?"
"I already knew that." Spain laughed. "When can I ask you how long you've been watching me?"
"Never, if you can help it." France smirked and Spain pushed France's jacket off his shoulders. "I'm going to make you forget that question, actually. I'm already expecting far too many jokes."
"France…" There was a pen digging into the small of his back but he didn't really care. France had always loved him, and now… he really… loved… Fran—
Spain laughed a bit breathlessly, staring out the window upside down. "So that's where my love plant went."
Of course, all of Europe knew.
It just took a European Union meeting the next week for it all to come out in the open.
The doors were thrown open and in marched the members of the union. Many did not want to be there from the disgruntled sounds and looks of the nations so early in the morning.
An obnoxiously happy whistling entered the room, announcing the arrival of the latest gossip.
In walked Spain, alone.
"You two are perverts you know!" An angry voice greeted him.
"Hi Romano!" He cheered and sat down across from the South of Italy. "Mi mejor amigoooo~"
Romano slapped his forehead with the morning newspaper, then Spain's. "Don't act so happy, people will… think things."
"I'm already way ahead of you." Prussia leered.
"Porca puttana! Why we always have to sit near those damned—"
North Italy laughed.
Spain watched his friends with a large content smile that could have rivalled Russia's. Although no one really knew what that country had to smile about and that's why it was just so freakish.
The Spanish speaking nation rocked his chair back on its hind legs, beginning his happy tune once more. The countries continued to file in and take their seats and it was just another day in the world.
Until France entered.
Quite appropriately, there were cat calls from all around the table.
Well, there should have been, France felt.
In actuality, no one liked France enough to encourage him, so it was in fact just Spain. And Prussia.
Spain moved his chair closer to France and sat down in defence.
Belgium made a happy sound as she took her own seat. "You look like you've walked right out of my cat festival parade!"
"I…I like cats." Romano muttered.
"Thank you!" France preened, having grown used to the furry appendages. At least they weren't ugly, like England's. "However, it's not by choice, even though I do use this style on the occasional naughty exploit! This is why I've come with an announcement."
Various countries paid him some more attention then. France rarely brought anything to the table other than his busy hands.
"Hungary, as of now, we are no longer in… trade."
Down the table Austria's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but he was much too refined to comment.
"It wasn't me." Hungary said plainly, a glare rooted on her features. "Shame on you France, after all the compensation I've given you for…" A drop of blood manly dripped from her nose, "Certain goods and services."
"Quoi?" France exclaimed indignantly. "Then who was it?"
He set his sights on the United Kingdom, but the irritable nation sat alone at the end of the table, tight-lipped and eyes closed.
"I must confess," Belgium piped up, embarrassed. "I switched the glue. But I did it for you!"
"Sacre bleu. I knew it was a female touch!"
"You were in France's house?" The Netherlands was very displeased.
His little sister patted him on the arm. "Well… I wanted to help and Spain really does love cute things."
"Hey, I'm the resident expert on Spain here!" Romano ground out, angrily shredding his newspaper.
"I thought you didn't want him?" Austria raised an eyebrow at the younger nation.
"I DON'T."
Spain's whistling song ended on a terribly sad note. "Romano, I thought you cared!"
"Not this again." Germany sighed loudly and somehow Veneziano had found a pile of tomatoes on the table and was eating it.
"Ah! Italy, you're eating our love!"
North Italy paused. "Wait... what? But it's not salty."
France scratched at his cat ears pitifully. His eyes sparkled in a dramatic pout that seemed to shine through the chaos. "Please. How do I detach them?"
"Oh it's really simple."
In one quick movement, the Netherlands ripped them off.
France's scream echoed far, far across the ocean until it hit America in the head, knocking the country out face-first into his hamburger.
Europe was entirely silent until…
"MERDE ALORS. I HAVE BALD SPOTS!"
"Are you hurt?" Spain dove forward and hugged France tightly.
France clawed at his head in despair. "Only my pride!"
At the end of the table, the United Kingdom was sipping tea from his personal tea set and smirking with murderous glee.
"Don't you start." France yelled in outrage to the rival nation and waved a fist around Spain's bone-crushing embrace.
England opened his mouth—
All of a sudden France was wearing a very decadent and feathered sky blue satin hat. No country questioned it.
"Are there any more important meeting announcements I should know about before I leave?" The blonde asked loudly.
Greece who had been lounging in his chair, looked up. "I just came to see you two make out." He made some random hand movements that could have been lewd.
Spain raised his hand. "I agree with this motion."
Everyone stared at him.
Germany stood up abruptly. "If everyone came here to see France and Spain do unmentionable things to each other please raise your hand in a way that is not phallic in nature."
Pretty much all of Europe raised their hands.
Germany sighed. "Right. Meeting is adjourned."
Various nations shrugged and continued gossiping with each other while others immediately bolted for the door.
France was stepping over a very curious carnage of tomatoes on the floor. A jacket was hastily flung onto the mess in front of his foot.
He raised his eyebrows at the now shirtless Spain.
"I could get used to this." France smiled and Spain laughed, taking his hand to guide him over the tomato puddle.
"If you call me 'Boss' tonight, you can use me for anything."
France's heart filled with love. "Hell. Yes."
Spain couldn't contain his excitement as they ran for the door.
Almost to the exit, France paused in his purposeful stride and turned on his heel, marching back to the table with Spain in tow.
"Angleterre!" He called out and the English speaking nation turned around in his chair slowly, unpleasant grimace and blush already firmly in place. The eyebrows were lowered, ready for the stand-off they sensed coming. But nothing had prepared the furry beasts for what followed.
France pelvic-thrusted the air in front of England's face. Hard.
"Guess who conquered some vital region!"
The blood drained from England's cheeks. Where it went was anyone's guess.
"Are you out of your bloody mind!"
France thrust faster.
England jumped out of his chair, brandishing his teapot like an extinguisher ready to put out the fire in France's pants. "You keep your filthy crotch out of my air zone!"
"We conquered… All. Night. Long." France sang loudly.
"W-Well… Well at least it happened before you lost all your hair!" The shorter nation screamed and the force of it made France's feathered hat fly off his head. It must have grown wings.
France's face exploded in colour, epically red as he covered his head with his hands. "Why you—!"
"Okay, come here my Tomato." Spain laughed and grabbed France's arm, pulling him close. He kissed the country on his neck, rubbing his nose casually into that blond hair. "Let's go."
"Alright. I feel like being disgustingly romantic and publically displaying our affection in front of America next." France proudly stuffed his feathered hat back on and let the laughing Spain take his arm.
The two countries had been brothers in arms so many times before, but now as they walked out of the conference hall and into the city streets, smiling and laughing and, yes, groping…
It was finally obvious to them both what they truly had. The name of that hard to come by feeling between countries.
"Damn it."
England's eyebrows wobbled and there was a raincloud over his head as he thumped it repeatedly on the desk.
"That could have been me."
The End