Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
A/n1: And yes, everyone's favorite Italian sourpuss is back as your lovely narrator again, starting from this chapter!~ Huzzah! Did you miss him? I know I did! Not that there's anything wrong with Toni's POV… but, well, Lovi's just a bit more fun to write. ^^ Ah… prepare yourself for some overtly excessive use of the wonderful F-word. And some extreme fluff.
A/n2: Just one last thing about the Eurovision and then I promise you I won't talk about it again…for a year. XDDD So anyway, last week, Azerbaijan won the Eurovision Songfestival – something the Dutch commentators were very indifferent about. One of them even said "Oh well. I think I'm going to take a dump now." when Azerbaijan's song was playing. A-ahaha… But hey, the good part is that Italy got second place! Guess what country gave the Italies 12 points...~~~~~~ Go on, guess! *flails*
Edit A/n3: I edited some stuff!~ Felt like I had to, so I did.^^ Don't be surprised when you read something else in the chapter now.
** Bottoms-Up! **
Chapter XXXV:
Bad Side of the Moon
(Elton John)
The next morning, I woke up with a headache.
No, wait, I didn't wake up with a headache – I woke up with some kind of fucking imaginary ugly shithead standing next to my bed, repeatedly slamming a huge hammer down on my head like it was nobody's business.
While cackling!
Like a… a crow!
Yes! A crow! A big, fat, cackling crow with a sore throat and the ability to swing around with massive hammers like it were plastic baby-hammers (while it certainly didn't feel like one when it hit you on the freaking skull) instead!
…
…
…what the hell, Lovino. Just… just what the hell. Thinking about crows frolicking around with hammers. WHY, just WHY. Shit was disturbing as fuck.
Ouch… Oh, my poor, poor head was throbbing. No wonder – it was way too early to have trippy creatures dancing around in my mind. Not that that there was ever a good time for that (and it certainly wouldn't stop those fantasy-fucktards from doing it anyway), but still… not now. I really didn't want this right now.
Fucking shit…
I groaned softly and didn't open my eyes as I lifted my hands from the somewhat sticky mattress and gently rubbed my temples, trying hard to ignore the bonking and zooming that was going on just underneath it.
Yup – definitely a hangover. And a massive one, too. Ugh… must have been from that stupid, devilish Russian milk, dammit…
…
…y-yeah, I remembered yesterday. Well, most of it. It amazed even me. I mean, I couldn't hold my liquor to safe my life. It was embarrassingly easy to get me drunk and raging to do… whatever I wanted to do. That included stuff that was actually pretty damn badass to do. Yeah, that's right – me being as drunk as a skunk could be kind of cool. For example, I vaguely remembered I had some sort of fight last night.
Imagine that! Me! Having a fight! And not even running away from it while cryi—being extremely manly! Fucking cool!
…
What? Psssh, screw you whiny bitches – fighting is totally cool! Cool as hell!
No, wait…
Oh fuck it, you know what I mean, dammit.
But I had to admit… I wasn't always cool when I had drunk too much. I knew I could also be really annoying and clingy when pissed – even more than I already am. For example: Antonio once told me about an evening (I think it was at the albino-freak's birthday party) during which I was bawling and slapping and kissing that Spanish idiot in turns after the albino potato-fucker and his French fuckfaced friend had sneakily given me some heavy German shitty fuckbeer instead of the light wine I had asked for…
'Ahahaha!~ Oh, you were such a perverted asshole on Gilbert's party!~ You just wouldn't stop swearing and humping my leg!~'
…
…
Yeah. That was a great story.
In fact, it was such a great story, I'd fucking shoot the Spanish motherfucker's head off if he had the guts to tell me (or anybody else!) that goddamn story just one more time.
But hey… that was kind of like what had happened to me yesterday, wasn't it? Somebody must have spiked that freaky milk of mine… or switched it with another weird drink… and I seriously didn't know who had done it, but for some reason, the none-too-pleasant image of that bitch Belarus kept popping up in my mind…
…oh well – I had survived all of yesterday, so whatever. The hell I cared.
I yawned loud and finally opened my eyes – very carefully though: first the left one, then the other one, bit by bit…
~*SHINE!*~
Gah!
I growled and quickly closed my eyes again, whining and rubbing them ferociously - yeah, that's right: ferociously!
God! Fucking stupid bastard fierce sunlight of shitting terror blinded me, dammit!
…
Hmrrrf. Oh well, what the heck. I guess I'd just have to keep my eyes closed for a bit longer now… you know, until the sun was shining a bit less brightly or something…
Haa…
I stretched my arms and felt myself relaxing some more, something that made me smile weakly. Yeah. This was nice. I felt nice. Still, I could be feeling nicer. It probably wouldn't hurt if I tried to ease my evil headache by... well, let's say... napping. Right?
Yup. Sleeping was definitely good for body and soul. So I should do that. And I would do that. Right away. Like, now.
…
…
…u-um.
B-but if I really wanted to sleep as in… sleeping and shit, I… I needed…
…I needed…u-um...
…
...h-him.
xXx
The blood that quickly rushed to my cheeks as I nervously patted the mattress around me, was painful and too hot to handle for my face, especially considering the fact that my head was still spinning because of my horrible hangover. But there was nothing could do about it, so… yeah. Sucks to be me.
My hasty movements over the bed continued and I frowned deeply when I only felt sheets and linen and other kinds of uninteresting stuff rushing underneath my hands.
T-the hell? I didn't want to feel only stupid sheets and lame linen, d-dammit…
For God sakes, wh-where was he… where the f-fuck was that… that dense moron… god, always playing annoying tricks on me like this…
I grumbled and turned to lay myself on my side (back facing the burning and melting fire-hot OH GOD sunlight), opening my eyes a teeny-weeny bit once again, peeking around me through half-lidded eyes. Now, where was that asshole, dammit…
Fortunately, I spotted the sleeping Spaniard right away: he was also lying on his side, just a little further away from me than usual, snoring with wide-open mouth and a crooked, dopey smile on his face.
…
S-still, the hellish sunlight behind me – that shone down on his gorgeous naked body and made his tanned skin glow like some heavenly and very sexy kind of being – sure looked… good on him… o-oh yes. Yes…
Even when he was drooling like that.
I huffed and blushed even more, pulling the sheets covering me a bit higher as I sneakily wriggled my body in order to move closer to him – which actually worked pretty damn well. Yay for being inventive with limbs in the morning.
Anyway, as… as I approached him, I tried to figure out what my next move would be.
I-I mean, Antonio was sleeping. If I was going to lie in front of him, with this fucking scowl of death on my face and this stupid sheet pulled up all the way to my chin, there wouldn't happen... much. He probably wouldn't wake up all of a sudden, understand what was going on and… and pull me into those n-nice arms of his while whispering sweet things to me... and I know I couldn't stare him awake. Nope. Had already tried that one out last week – nothing had happened.
…
N-now what, dammit… D-did I really had to… had to snuggle myself against him? M-move against him, wrap his numb arms around me, wrap my own arms around him as well, mutter something embarrassing like "I love you so much" to his ungodly handsome face and go to sleep? Like that?
…
B-but I didn't want to do that!
I made a choked, "tch!"-kind of sound and groaned, feeling a bit upset. Yeah, I get it, I needed to man up every once in a while and shit, b-but… b-but I really didn't feel like manning up right now, dammit…
C-come on, give me a fucking break… my head hurt, my neck hurt, my arms hurt, my face hurt and my eyes hurt… f-from those freaking dumb unshed fag-tears, burning just behind my eyelids.
Ugh… I sniffled and harshly rubbed my eyes again, since the fucking tears started to blur my sight.
Goddammit… g-goddammit…
I… I really needed to be pampered right now… I—
'Lovi…?'
I immediately snapped my eyes open.
'A-Antonio…?'
…
…
W-why the hell did that bastard always happen to be conveniently awake at times like this, dammit?
…
N-not that I complained…
XxX
My heartbeat sped up a bit when I saw (or at least think I saw – fucking tears ruined my view, dammit) Antonio's big, shiny green orbs, giving me a sleepy, but loving glance.
'Ah… good-morning, sweetie…'
…
S-sweetie?
I spread my eyes even more and flushed bright red, furrowing my brows.
'…t-the fuck, don't call me "sweetie", you q-queerbag…'
'Queerbag? Ah… that one's new, isn't it? Ahaha… how original… me calling you "sweetie", you calling me "queerbag"...if that isn't love, I don't know it anymore...'
Antonio smiled affectionately, gently touching my face and wiping away the tears that trickled down my cheek.
I didn't push his hand away and growled softly. '…s-shut up. Just feel happy I didn't call you by one of those other very insulting names I had in store for you, d-d-dammit!'
'Hmmm… ah, I know, I know…' Antonio stretched his arms out above him and yawned, before giving me his full attention again and moving towards me some more.
He smiled again. 'Now, tell me… what's the matter, my sweet love… why are you crying, hm? Want me to help you fall asleep?~'
'B-bastard. S-stupid bastard…' I mumbled, nodding while looking at him with a look so utmost lovestruck that it would have made me loath if I wasn't already too busy… you know, longing for the damn asshole and all.
Antonio got kind of flustered himself as well when he saw my sad/agitated/dreamy expression and chuckled delightedly, grabbing the thin sheets on either side of me to pull me closer to him.
'H-hey.' I protested lamely, letting it happen with a shaky, blissful sigh.
'Ah, aren't you lovely, Lovi… so lovely…' He laughed softly, pressing my body against his, with sheets and everything, '…ah, and you seriously wonder why I called you "sweetie"? You're so funny, my love…'
'I'm not…' I murmured in a quiet voice and tugged some part of the sheets loose, making sure to cover him as well as I shyly sneaked my arms around his strong torso and uttered a certain sentence with a certain word in it that started with a "d" to his chest.
Antonio still heard, though.
He froze up and fell silent for a few seconds. I felt him breathing out slowly, carefully, his chest rising and falling while a soft, regular thumping became louder and faster.
'L-Lovino…'
'…hnnm?'
'Please. Please call me that name again.'
His unstable hands cupped my face and tilted it up, bringing it closer to his own, flustered one. His eyes were fucking sparkly, dammit, and it made him look disgustingly handsome, maybe even more disgustingly handsome th-than… than that spunky Spaniard already was. Also, it causes my knees and, w-well, actually all of my legs in general to tremble and twitch like a fucking spazz, g-goddammit…
He pressed a soft, but also almost desperate kiss on my mouth, the wonderful, tender feeling making me clench my hands into tight fists, and I responded by saying that… t-that stupid, lame, gayish and very very honestly meant pet-name of mine, breathing it onto his lips as they parted with mine.
'D-darling… I-I fucking called you "darling", dammit…'
'Lovi…' Antonio choked and hugged me some more.
'I-I wanted to say it… just… just this once… twice… f-fine, trice…' I stammered, since I thought I owned him an explanation, and splayed my hands on his back, wincing the slightest of bits when my fingertips ghosted over that particular huge scar on his shoulder-blades.
'L-Lovi…' he said again, before grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me forwards for another, noticeable more passionate kiss that made my head spin around even faster.
Oh, but how nice the feeling, the taste was...
For me, this was what love felt and tasted like. Just this kiss. Nothing else.
'Since… I… y-you deserve it, o-okay…' I panted softly, shortly after pulling back, timidly smiling a no-doubt very weird little smile as I kept our faces close enough to allow our noses to touch, '…y-you really did…'
'Lovi... Lovi, Lovi…' Antonio blushed, grinning excitedly. I could see his eyes were unusual puffy when he gave me another peck.
'D-don't – hmn – get – nmf – used to the – mgn – freaking word, though – ngh…' I warned between fucking heavenly kisses that the s-stupid moron repeatedly started showering down on my face.
'Ah, oh no, Lovi… you don't have to say it anymore… I'll relish this moment for the rest of my life, so…'
I stared at him. 'T-that's… that's awfully long.'
'It is…~'
'…I… I guess I'll say it a few more times then… hell, maybe I'll even call you the d-word once a year from now on.'
Antonio squealed. 'Ah, how very generous of you!~'
'Y-yeah, that's just the kind of guy I am.' I said, smiling and hugging him a bit.
'Oh yes, certainly! But, Lovi… ah, Lovi, Lovi…'
The Spaniard gladly accepted my hug and buried a hand in my messed-up hair, twirling some of it around his fingers – no, not that strand of hair, 'cause I hated getting boners because of that this early in the morning… even though it probably wasn't early in the morning anymore, let alone morning at all.
…
I needed to cut back on the philosophy-books.
'…ah, you could also say the d-word to me right after you've said the y-word, my love…' Antonio suddenly suggested.
I lifted my face from his chest for a second and raised an eyebrow.
'What are you talking about?'
He smiled and shook his head, pressing my face back against him.
'You'll see… ah, oh yes, you'll see.'
xXx
Not before too long after all of this, I fell asleep.
Antonio did as well: he immediately dozed off, as soon as we stopped talking and kissing and nuzzling and doing other incredibly faggish things that I loved doing with him – but I would never ever ever admit this out loud to him, never, unless he asked me.
…
…
A-anyway…
I had expected Antonio to fall asleep before I would. I mean, hell, no way I could beat a fucking Spanish Spaniard in a snooze-contest. But I was perfectly okay with that, since I followed him soon after anyway, enjoying the weight of his arms around me and loving the soothing warmth of his chest in the last seconds before I let myself slip away in unconsciousness.
Hmmn…
F-fucking bastard felt s-so comfortable…
XxX
I think it was about… hmm, well, in any case way past lunchtime when I woke up again.
B-by Antonio.
W-who had… um.
…
K-kissed me awake.
Really.
I…I was dreaming about… oh, no doubt very fucked-up things that would have made Freud roll over the floor from laughter (that old, dead, perverted son of a bitch, dammit), when I had suddenly felt a light, sweet pressure on my lips.
Now, I… I didn't know what I was dreaming about, but I knew one thing – that feeling didn't fit into my dream's context. Not at all. I-it just was way too fluffy for my incredibly tough, hurr, let's stuff our faces with manly muscular meals and flirt with some fluttering chicks and talk really loudly when answering our phone-calls 'cause for some reason we think it makes us look awesome when we answer phone-calls all arrogantly like that even though it really doesn't, hurr – dream.
…yeah.
…
Um, so I had woken up.
First thing I discovered upon waking: I was lying on my back very neatly. You know, the sheets covering me really precise- and nicely, my folded hands saintly – you read that right: saintly – resting on my stomach…
…
…a-and something else was resting on my stomach as well. Or should I say, someone else. Who kept giving me little kisses.
Peck kiss peck kiss kiss peck.
Short and quick and a whole lot of them.
…
I-it felt very nice.
Finally, I actually decided to open my eyes to see where all of that niceness came from, and I wasn't surprised to see an awfully happy Antonio lying on top of me – what's new, really – propped on his elbows (and ouch, bastard was fucking elbow-stabbing me, dammit), all dressed up and stuff, his lower body perfectly placed in-between my legs.
'Good-morning again, my love!~' Antonio greeted me, tearing his face off mine – but just a bit – now that I was awake, '…or should I say, good afternoon?~'
I stared up at him.
'…y-you kissed me awake.'
'I did!' Antonio laughed softly, '…I should always wake you up like this!~'
I swallowed. I had the strangest urge to kick and kiss the cocky bastard to death, but pretended I hadn't heard him and cleared my throat.
'A-anyway… what time is it?'
'Hm… I think it's past two o'clock, Lovino…' he muzed, smiling fondly at me as he lowered himself to kiss me again. I just… j-just squeezed the sheets, enjoying the kiss in silence and kissing back.
Then Antonio pulled away again, chuckling, panting, carefully running his thumb over my way too plump bottom lip.
'…ah… just a minute, Lovi… tell me, how are you feeling?'
'F-fine, I guess…' I frowned, trying to glare at his thumb – but I couldn't and damn, it sure hurt to move your eyes all weirdly like that.
'Yes?' He blushed and looked at me worriedly, '…how's your butt doing, then?'
My frown became deeper and more sinister as I leered at him.
...oh no he didn't. He did not just ask me how my fucking ass was doing. I mean, what the hell? Did he expect me to flip over, show him my rear and let my ass say something along the lines of "well, jolly good fellow, how very nice of you to ask! If only you were this considerate of me yesterday – you know, when you fucked me senseless and all – then I wouldn't have to kill you right now!"
And then my butt would kill him.
…
It would be fucking epic.
…
Ugh… I sure hoped this was still my hangover talking…
Meanwhile, Antonio just continued blabbering like the oblivious idiot that he was.
'Ah, it's just, we were really going at it yesterday, you know? You and your bottom were so eager!~ God, it was amazing!'
'Antonio.' I hissed.
He smirked and deliberately ignored me. 'You have to know, I had tried to control myself, Lovi, I really did, but you just felt so wonderful—'
'Antonio.' I repeated, voice a bit shriller.
'Ah, so that's why I couldn't help making love with you somewhat more aggressively than usual—'
RAAH!
With a jolt (and a roar of frustration, lower-back-pains and embarrassment), I made myself sit upright a bit more, head-butting him in the process – and damn, did it feel good.
'My GOD, Antonio, how many times do I have to scream your name until you keep your damn face, you asshole!' I snapped at the Spaniard, slamming a hand in his face to push him away from me.
He pouted – I could feel he did.
'But Lovi, I'm just – ouch! – I'm just worried about you…'
'Oh yeah? Well… well, aside from that, you're also a queerbag!' I stupidly said, since I really didn't know anything better to say to that.
'Lovino…' Antonio sighed and plucked my hand off his face, '…I'm being serious here, sweetie. I… um… I didn't hurt you yesterday, did I?'
I… um.
I got quiet and looked at his hand clutching mine, slowly turning it so until my hand fell perfectly into his.
'…y-yesterday was nice.' I heard myself mumble bluntly.
Antonio started to glow and scooted even closer to me.
'Yes?~ Y-you thought so as well?'
'I-I won't say it again, dammit!' I snarled angrily, but naturally (yup – naturally) didn't move an inch when he leaned towards me and pressed a small kiss on my cheek.
'You don't have to say it again, my lovely love… I heard you the first time…'
'Good for you, d-d-dumbass…' I grumbled shyly, stubbornly, looking him in the eyes with a hopefully very burning, fizzling expression on my face, 'cause you bet I could be just as hot as him, dammit.
Unfortunately, Antonio didn't get it – of course he didn't get it – and beamed a clueless smile back at me, suddenly moving backwards again and giving a soft squeeze to my hand.
'Hey, you think you could get dressed and come downstairs, Lovino?~'
…
My face fell.
Well. My move sure was a fizzle, alright.
XxX
I gave the Spaniard in front of me a suspicious glance, pulling up the sheets a bit higher since I didn't want to show my Italian nakedness to him, even though there probably wasn't anybody in this world who had seen me naked as many times as he had.
But still! Principles, dammit! Got to stick with them!
'Okay…' I said, narrowing my eyes as I observed the bouncy, blushing Spanish nation sitting on the bed, '…what do you have up your sleeve, you ass? Why do I have to get dressed? I don't want to get dressed! Hell, I don't want to get up at all!'
'But you have to!' Antonio insisted, that damn pout appearing on his face again.
I folded my arms. 'Give me one good reason why!'
At that, the pout changed into a soft, tender smile.
'Because I'm planning to go back to Spain today, Lovino – and since you're my very important lover, so are you.'
I blinked, taken by surprise.
'Wait, you want to go back to Spain?'
'Ah, yes.' Antonio admitted, '…because I feel a lot better again and I miss our House. And our tomato-plants… and ah, our romantic evenings on the balcony…'
I tried to ignore my once again burning cheeks. 'W-what the… d-don't call it our House, d-dammit—'
'But it is, Lovi.' he calmly interrupted me.
I bit my lower lip.
'…nnm.'
'You know it is.'
'Hmnm.'
'And I want to go back to it, my love – with you.'
He smiled timidly at me and also grabbed my other hand, holding on to them gently.
'Ahaha!~ So yes… um… would you… ah…'
I couldn't suppress an amused grin when I saw him stammering and staring at me like that and nodded – maybe a bit too much.
'Okay, stop fucking soft-soaping me, you wussy bastard, I get it already. And… and of course I'll come with you.'
Antonio's head jolted up in delight. 'You will?~'
Hmm. I bit back an insulting remark about him and his pointless insecurity and gave him another patient nod instead.
'Yup. Why not.'
'Great!~'
Antonio smiled broadly and pulled my hands to his chest, gazing at me with caring, infatuated eyes.
'…oh, you make me so happy, Lovi, so very happy – I just don't know what to do with it…'
'T-that's nice.' I stuttered, moving my hands away of his torso after sneakily feeling up his hunky chest for a short while, '…n-now, just let me get dressed already.'
The Spaniard gleamed with joy and looked like he had just won the lottery.
…
Oooh. I see what he did there.
Yeah, tough luck, Antonio, you fucking douchebag.
I snorted, pulled up the sheets like the prude that I was and pointed to the door.
'Nice try, asshole. But if you don't get your perverted ass out of here within ten seconds, I'll throw you out of the fucking window.'
He frowned and raised a hand.
'Before or after your reversed strip-tease, Lovino?'
…
And then he had to flee.
xXx
Several minutes and a random smack on the stupid Spaniards head (with a spoon!) later, Antonio and I drove off in Antonio's worthless, old, dingy and for some reason completely brand-less car, away from my and Feliciano's shared House.
Yeah…
Everything happened surprisingly fast after I had dressed myself and gone downstairs.
Apparently, Antonio had already prepared all kinds of things (like drinks, food etc.) for our trip back to Madrid and he had also packed (read: thrown) the few belongings he had taken with him from Spain into the car.
He had a very nice explanation for it, too.
'Ah, I did all of that when you were sleeping, Lovino! You see, after I had fallen asleep with you that second time, I only slept for a hour, and then I woke up again and boom, this incredible longing for Spain suddenly came to mind… and so, I decided to untangle myself from you – wasn't easy, you kept grabbing my butt – and I made sure the car and stuff would be prepared after you would wake up. And you know the rest!~'
…
Damn. Bastard could be scarily well-prepared if he wanted something to happen.
...
Well, anyway…
After I had listened to Antonio's explanation (and put the spoon back), said good-bye to Feliciano (who was giving me surprisingly exhausted and nasty glares for reasons I'd rather forget) and made sure my bedroom door was locked, Antonio and I hopped into the car/coughing-shit-on-wheels and took off.
And so, we drove back to Spain.
xXx
…
Huh…
Wish I could say something good/special about the trip, but there wasn't anything good/special to say about it.
I mean, what could I say? Antonio was annoying and chatty, I was moody and complaining about… well, almost everything, and the weather was kind of nice. That's it.
Besides, I knew the way to Antonio's nation by heart – and thought it was boring as hell – so… mweh. Didn't want to say something about it.
…
Okay, okay. Maybe I could tell just a little bit about the surroundings, then.
Lots of yellow grass. Lots of blue skies. Lots of… road. And sunshine.
Yeah.
Nothing special about fucking Spain.
…
Except for Antonio.
H-he was very special.
…
But if you're thinking I'm going to give a detailed description of him, fuck the hell off.
He's private property anyway.
xXx
…
…
Okay…
Something… definitely wasn't quite right here.
That was the first thought that rushed through my head, right after we had arrived at the Spaniard's House and got out of the car.
…
I mean, there was this small group of fat, extremely Caucasian people with sunburns and ugly hats, sunglasses and shirts wobbling around Antonio's House, laughing loudly at some of the beautiful sculptures in Antonio's garden.
'What the fuck?' I exclaimed, slamming the door of the car shut – maybe a bit too harsly, maybe because I was secretly hoping to smash the fucking piece of crap apart like this.
Antonio got out of the car (and it was still standing – goddammit) as well, scratching his head confusedly.
'I have guests? Human ones?'
'Those aren't humans, Antonio…' I muttered, '…those are tourists.'
He gave me a questionable look.
'Tourists, Lovino?'
I nodded earnestly.
'Yes - tourists. People from other countries who come over to our countries to eat, sleep and buy useless crap from our markets.'
'Ah…' Antonio nodded slowly, but I bet my ass he still didn't know shit about tourists.
…
Well, with his (still vulnarable) financial status, no wonder he didn't.
An obnoxiously loud voice coming from the small crowd, somewhere near a splendid sculpture of Picasso (replica of "Head of a Woman", if you really want to know), suddenly caught our attention.
'Haha! Oh man, I don't know what the meaning is of this crazy thing, but it sure as hell is funny! You! Ugly fat guy! Take a picture of me and that thing! And make it heroic!'
…
…
'Is that…?' Antonio asked, glancing at me.
I...
I could only nod.