So, this is basically the chapter where all the subtle pairings are hinted at. Seriously. All of them. You're welcome~ ;)

Nothing good ever came out of visiting the hamburger bastard's place.

Ever.

Just days after having a nice dinner for Canada's birthday (that had been interrupted by his dumb ass boyfriend and his even dumber friends), Romano found himself on a plane to America's place since the bastard decided to have a party of his own, one that he referred to as a summer bash.

Lovino was all for skipping out on the festivities, but Antonio was eager to go and had begged Romano to go with him. The only reason the Italian relented was because he knew his ditzy Spanish boyfriend wouldn't stop bugging him until he agreed to go (and no, Spain batting those dazzling green eyes had absolutely no effect on him).

So as it was, Romano was grumbling about how much of a shitty time he was sure to have as Spain packed their bags, happily babbling about some nonsense or another as he carried Silvia around (the poor cat was forced to come along for the trip since Spain worried that she'd be 'lonely'). Nevertheless, he got them all to catch their airplane to America and even somehow snuck Silvia to sit with them instead of in a carrier.

And throughout the entire process, Spain never let Romano lift a finger; he took care of the whole thing, almost to a point of carrying Romano to his seat.

It took all Romano had not to punch him.

Spain had been like this since Romano returned from Canada's birthday dinner. After a much calmer evening at another restaurant, Romano had returned to his hotel room to find a huge pile of tomatoes occupying one corner and several bouquets of flowers occupying another corner. A morose Spain had immediately tackled him in a hug and began babbling apologies.

However, it wasn't until after Romano had Spain call Canada to apologize that he was even able to get an explanation as to why he and his friends were spying in the first place.

"You…You promise not to tell Netherlands if I tell you?"

"Depends on the why."

Then Spain had rather reluctantly admitted that the reason he was spying was because he was afraid that Romano and Netherlands would become closer friends, or that Netherlands might try hitting on Romano and that Romano would reciprocate the advances.

It had taken Romano a long time to get over his disbelief. Then he summed his thoughts in a simple question.

"Why the hell would you think that?!"

After having a rather long ass conversation, Romano managed to assuage Spain's fears by assuring him that he wasn't interested in Netherlands, that Netherlands definitely wasn't interested in him, and that he would happily sock Netherlands in the throat if he were to try anything.

"In case you don't remember, who were the maple bastard and I talking about when my…happiness was mentioned? It sure as hell wasn't Netherlands!"

Spain had brightened up at that and hugged him close, compelling Romano with the need to say that he was the one he wanted to be with, not Netherlands.

All was forgiven and they both fell asleep after a long day with Silvia curled between them.

Since then, Spain has been extra doting on him as a way to make up for it. Romano tried telling him over and over again that it wasn't necessary, but Spain was having none of that. At first, Romano enjoyed the pampering a bit, but he could only handle so much affection before he felt smothered.

Hell, maybe attending the hamburger bastard's party might actually get Spain to give him some space.

Even so, Romano was scowling when he and Spain pulled up in front of America's place. The music was blaring loud enough to be heard from across the globe, colorful lights were pouring through every window, and the whole country felt like it was vibrating from the noise intensity.

Romano scoffed as Spain parked their car. "Coming here's a stupid idea. We should go."

"Oh c'mon, Lovi! It looks like a lot of fun! Even Silvia looks excited!" Why Spain thought that bringing the sweet cat was a mystery to Romano.

The grey feline was looking out the car window at the loud, colorful house with wide eyes. She meowed and pawed at Romano's lap. The Italian rubbed her head and hoped that she wasn't intimidated by the lights and noise. Though Silvia had come a long way from the timid kitten the nations had met (Romano was even proud to say that she had scared away a few stray dogs before), she still displayed some shyness now and then.

Plus, she was a total sweetheart that preferred quieter activities.

Romano sighed yet picked up Silvia and stepped out of the vehicle, nonetheless. "Oh yeah, she looks completely dazzled."

Spain didn't pick up on the sarcasm and eagerly stepped out and snatched Silvia away, cuddling her to him. "Doesn't she?! She knows that we're all going to have a good time!"

The two nations made their way to the front door and rang the doorbell. While they waited for someone to answer, Romano asked, "Why the hell did you even bring her anyways?! She would've been perfectly fine back at the hotel."

"Aw, but Lovi, she would've been so lonely! I feel bad whenever we have to leave her behind to go to meetings and such! It's about time we start bringing her now and then! Besides, if Greece gets to bring his gatos, why can't we bring our gato?!" Silvia purred as if endeared by Spain's sentiment.

While Spain cooed with delight, Romano felt himself blushing over his boyfriend's use of the word 'our.' Even he had to admit that it had a nice ring to it.

Romano schooled his expression back into a scowl when the door finally opened. He was a bit surprised when Canada answered rather than the hamburger bastard.

"Oh, hello, Romano. Hello, Spain," Canada greeted them both with a smile, his voice barely heard underneath all the noise. "Come on in." He stepped to the aside to allow them some room, and they walked in.

"Ciao, maple bastard," Romano replied. "So what, your idiot brother has you on door duty?"

"Um, no. I just happened to be walking by and heard the doorbell. I think Al is in the kitchen grabbing more alcohol, so I'm not sure if he heard you guys. I didn't think he'd mind though."

"Hola, blondie~!" Spain cheerfully greeted, pulling Canada in for a side hug. "It's nice to see you! Sorry about ruining your party a few days ago! I didn't mean to! Oh and hey! This is Silvia~!" He presented their cat, who meowed at the bespectacled blonde. "She's me and Lovi's baby~!"

Romano fiercely blushed and swatted his boyfriend upside the head. "Don't phrase it like that, asswad!" He then turned to glare at a softly giggling Canada. "Not one word, jerk!"

Canada valiantly tried to cease his giggling. "S-Sorry. I just think that's cute, eh. And hello, Silvia." He rubbed the top of the cat's head, getting to her to purr.

Spain, unfazed by Romano's annoyance, beamed and chirped, "Oh~! It seems that she likes you! You ought to be her godfather!"

"E-Eh?" Canada blinked in surprise.

"¡Sí! I was thinking of making Francis or Gilbert her godfather…oh! Maybe you and Gilbert can be her godparents since you two are so close and all! If anything were to happen to me and Lovi, then the two of you can raise her like if she were your baby!"

Romano smacked his forehead as Canada turned a bright red. Better nip this shit storm in the bud before the maple bastard feels obligated to say yes!

Grabbing his boyfriend by the ear and his friend by the collar of his shirt, Romano began to drag the two of them towards the kitchen. "No one is being anyone's godparent! Now let's go get me a drink! If I'm going to be here with all sorts of idiots for more than an hour, then I'm going to need a drink!"

"U-Um…"

"Ack! L-Lovi! You're hurting my ear!"

[…]

As far as loud, raging parties went, things weren't going too horribly.

After dragging Spain and Canada to the kitchen, Romano spotted the aforementioned alcohol and helped himself to a shot of tequila. Then he and a few others amused themselves in watching America, Russia, England, Germany, and Prussia try to outdrink each other. Spain and France cheered on Prussia; Italy cheered on Germany; Japan and Canada quietly fretted over their fellow nations; and Romano secretly hoped that they'd all pass out.

England was the first one who lost since France took his pitcher of beer away once he was deemed to have had enough.

"G-Give hic that back, wanker! I hic swear to drunk I'm not God!"

"Of course not, Angleterre~! But I would love for you to tell me how much you love, err, I mean hate me…while you drink some of this water and eat some food!"

Germany was the next to go, but only because Italy, in all his excitement, slipped on spilt beer and had gotten a bump on his head. Romano would've played big brother, but figured that he didn't feel like listening to Veneziano's crying and allowed the potato bastard and Japan take care of him (not without giving Germany a threatening glare as they left the kitchen).

Prussia was next to lose. One moment, he was brashly boasting about his awesomeness; the next moment, he was puking when Silvia coughed up a hairball.

"Holy Scheiße! That's freaking gross!"

"Dude! You just puked all over my counter!"

"Show a bit of sympathy, Al."

"I believe we should call a draw, da? I do not wish to play with the foul stench of German bile lingering in air."

America reluctantly agreed to it, but insisted that he and Russia try another contest and practically dragged the Russian away.

Romano and Spain were briefly separated when the latter went with Canada and France to tend to Prussia and England, taking Silvia with him. The Italian moseyed around the loud mansion, weighing the benefits of leaving the party early (maybe the tomato bastard won't notice that I'm gone…) before coming across Belgium. The two chatted for a bit until they were joined by Netherlands.

Remembering Spain's admittance to being afraid of Netherlands "stealing him away," Romano kept the conversation short before heading off on his own, well-aware of Netherlands' judging gaze.

Then Romano spent the next several minutes running away from…err, avoiding Turkey when the nation attempted to engage him in conversation. Although he may be a total bad ass, even he'll admit that Turkey unnerved him a bit. Luckily for him, he walked by Greece and smirked when the two adversary nations got into an argument.

Spain finally found him not too long after and practically glomped him on sight. Romano yelled at him for the surprise greeting and then yelled some more once he realized that Silvia was nowhere in sight. The two spent a good hour looking around for the cat and were relieved to find her lounging comfortably in one of America's guest rooms, hanging out with majority of Greece's cats and America's alien friend, Tony.

After getting into a cuss-out with Tony while retrieving Silvia (the freaky alien just rubbed Romano the wrong way), he and Spain left and ended up socializing with the other nations.

Right when Spain was trying to coax Romano to dance with him, the music was suddenly turned off. Everyone stopped dancing and turned to see America by the DJ.

"Hey, what's up, party people?! Sorry to turn off the tunes, but this amazing host has an announcement! If you're all ready to have some real fun, then follow me over to my bedroom!" Half of the nations looked appalled. "Oh wait! That came out wrong!" America boisterously laughed it off. "Sorry about that! I meant, I've got some wicked cool party games if any of you are interested, which you totally are, so follow me!" Then with a grin, he made a gesture to the DJ that had the man putting on a new, upbeat track. Some of the nations resumed dancing while others followed America to his room.

Spain beamed and turned to Romano. "Oh Lovi~! Party games sound like a lot of fun! We should go check it out!"

"Or we could grab as many unopened bottles of booze as we can and high-tail it out of here." Romano seriously doubted the hamburger bastard would notice a few bottles missing, and even if he did, the Italian didn't care. He and Spain were in a recession and could use something free for once.

Besides, Romano just wanted to leave already, tuck a dozing Silvia into her kitty bed, and then have his Spaniard take him to bed.

Spain laughed and grasped his boyfriend's hand. "But where's the fun in that?! A party isn't a party without games! Now c'mon! Maybe there's a piñata!"

"I seriously doubt the hamburger bastard would have a piñata. He's too much of an uncultured dumb ass to think of that." Romano's protests were disregarded as Spain tugged him along to where America had gone. Soon, they arrived in in their host's massive bedroom and stood with some of the other nations.

America stood on top of his bed (Romano wasn't even remotely surprised that the bedsheets were decorated with the Captain America symbol) to make an announcement. "Alright, my dudes! It's time to crank things up! We're going to play some good 'ol fashioned American games because a party isn't a party without games!"

"I just said that!" Spain whispered excitedly to him, grabbing his arm to shake him in his excitement. Romano had to hold Silvia at arm's length, careful not to disturb her dozy state. "Maybe that's a sign that there'll be a piñata~!"

"Stop that, jerk!" Romano smacked the other's hand away. "And knock it off with the piñata already! What part of 'America is an uncultured dumb ass' don't you get?! There's no piñata!"

Spain began to pout before America continued, "So, I was thinking that we kick things off with a total classic: spin the bottle!" He whipped out a Coca Cola bottle from his jacket, downed the contents, burped, and then held out the now empty bottle in triumph.

Seriously? That's the game he wants to play? Romano's disbelief was mirrored by the other nations as everyone exchanged skeptical or amused glances.

Romano wondered if he was in a parallel universe because America actually noticed the others' reactions rather than being blissfully unaware of them. Pouting, he grumbled, "Oh, c'mon you bunch of lame-o's, it'll be great! The game's simple: we sit in a circle, the bottle is put in the middle of the circle, someone spins it twice, and then the two people the bottle points to have to kiss! Easy! And since I'm the hero, I'll gladly volunteer to be the one to do the spinning!"

Some of the nations actually groaned, including Romano. Well, now that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

"That game sounds ridiculous, da?" Russia ventured with a sweet smile.

"Haha~ what's the matter, Russia? Too scared to play my totally awesome American game?! Hahahaha~ what a wuss!"

Russia's purple aura flared as his smile widened, getting anyone around him to flinch and scoot back a few feet. "I am not scared, especially not of some silly little American game. Fine, I will play, just to humor you of course, Sladkiy."

America chuckled. "The name's Alfred, dude. Not…whatever you just said! Hahaha~!" Then the blonde looked to the other nations. "Anyone who doesn't play is branded chicken for life!" His childish chicken-imitating noises and elbow flapping got some of the others to roll their eyes and the rest to laugh.

"Alright! This sounds like a real gut-buster! I'm in! Norge! You're playing too!"

"No."

"You're a fuddy duddy, Norge, and that's why you're playing anyways…as long as no one kisses you! Now that's not allowed, am I right?! I'm the only one allowed to invade Oslo!"

"…What?"

"Heh-heh…so what about the rest of you guys?! Ice? Fin? Swede?"

"Not in a million years."

"I'll play if Su-san plays!"

"Hm."

"Ohonhon~ this game is definitely something I could win at. Care to take a seat next to moi, mon petit lapin?"

"Go to hell, frog! What makes you think I'm even going to partake in this foolhardy game?!"

"Kesesesese~ okay, Eyebrows. If you're not man enough to play, then we get it. Only someone vaguely as awesome as the Awesome Me is awesome enough to play this awesome game-"

"If you bloody stop saying that dumb word, then I'll…sit in for a bit…but not next to you, Pepé Le Pew!"

"Oh, I just simply adore the pet names you have for me, mon cher~"

Soon enough, majority of the nations were sitting in a big circle, having either goaded one another into playing or having been interested already.

Romano did not want to play, but sat down anyways when Spain, being the ditz he was, plopped down next to France and Prussia. He figured that he would keep an eye on his boyfriend and maybe even find some amusement in the chaos that was sure to take place. Romano had a strong hunch that it would all go to hell.

It actually got close a few times.

The first time the bottle was spun, it landed on Korea and then on Sweden. The tall blonde didn't look the least bit interested in playing the game, but his opinion hardly mattered to the hyperactive, overexcited Asian who basically dove at him, trying to claim his 'breasts' and his lips. It took the combination of China, Japan, and Denmark to get Korea off of Sweden while Finland awkwardly comforted the latter as he threw a few frowns at the breast-grabber. Romano didn't think he had ever seen the Swede look so startled before in his life; it was rather disconcerting.

The second time the bottle was spun, it pointed its searching finger at Britain and then at Liechtenstein. The Brit had seemed surprised by the turn of events and immediately grew fearful when Switzerland fixated him with an angry stare that glinted murderously. England spluttered about how "preposterous" this game was and insisted that he wasn't going to take part. However, Liechtenstein happily skipped over to him and, oblivious to her brother's death glare, planted a soft kiss onto the older nation's cheek, excited to be a part of such a "fun" game.

Britain (and everyone else) was lucky that America's weird alien friend had spontaneously scurried away with Switzerland's rifle at some point and that Liechtenstein's sweet smile convinced her brother not to strangle the Brit.

Next, the bottle was spun, and it landed on Canada and France. Romano never felt sorrier for the maple bastard than he did at that moment. The bespectacled blonde had immediately turned red when the bottle pointed to him, and it was to his bad luck that he was actually noticed this time (not that anyone recognized him, the bastards). Even worse so that he was paired up with the fuckface.

Said fuckface had smiled his creepy perverted smile, laughed his creepy perverted laugh, and had this creepy perverted glint in his eyes as he suavely scooted over to Canada. He then took the younger blonde's face in his hands and promised him that the kiss will be heavenly and will have him begging for more.

This was basically pervert talk for him planning to screw the maple bastard in one of the hamburger bastard's bedrooms.

Romano was actually prepared to deck the French bastard before he kissed Matthew, but was faintly surprised when the albino bastard beat him to it.

With France knocked unconscious and carried out of the room by a flustered Canada, an unapologetic, grumbling Prussia, and an 'unconcerned' England ("I'm not worried about that insufferable frog! I'd just rather be helping him than staying here to play this god awful game any longer!"), Romano could actually feel how relieved the other nations were. He can't say that he blamed them. No one wanted to get kissed by the fuckface; it was practically a violation.

With France and Prussia out, Romano wondered if Spain would lose interest in the game and suggest that they leave. He was disappointed when the Spaniard made no move to leave and merely commented that it was strange that Prussia hit France ("I wonder if they're fighting right now. Weird. They seemed okay earlier…").

Romano felt foolish for hoping and merely rolled his eyes and held a sleeping Silvia against his chest. There were a few more rounds that were decidedly less exciting that their predecessors (although having Belarus glare down the spinning bottle whenever it got close to stopping on her or Russia left some on edge) that nearly bored Romano to tears.

Just as he was about to leave Spain alone to play, the inevitable happened.

When America spun the bottle, it pointed to Japan, causing nearly everyone to regain interest. Japan looked startled and immediately turned red while Italy cheered for him and Germany patted his shoulder sympathetically.

Romano smirked. Poor sap. Wonder who he's gonna have to smooch.

His smirk fell when he got his answer.

Spain beamed when the bottle pointed to him and exclaimed, "Oh finally! I thought I'd never get picked!" He grinned over at Japan. "It's our time to shine, ¿ey amigo?"

Japan flinched and then began to tremble. "N-Nani? U-U-Um Spain-san…that is not n-necessary. I d-d-do not w-wish to participate-"

Spain chuckled before crawling over to him. "Nonsense! This will be fun! Besides, it's just a game, right?!"

Romano glared as Japan continued to sweat and stutter. Fucking ditz. Can't he see that Japan's uncomfortable? He wouldn't-

The Italian's eyes widened when Spain actually took Japan's face in his hands and surged his lips forward in a full-on kiss. Japan squeaked in shock before shoving the Spaniard away, right as a random cat flew across the room and landed on Spain with brandished claws. The brunette's startled yelps became pained as he yanked the cat off of him, revealing scratches on his face.

There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to wrap their heads around what just occurred. Everyone flinched when the moment was broken by Denmark's boisterous laughter.

"Oh my gosh! Tell me I'm not the only one who just saw that! Did you see that too, Norge?! Didja?! Didja?!" The Dane excitedly shook Norway who lightly frowned at his companion.

"Yes, I saw Spain kiss Japan and Greece launch a cat at him for doing so. Now will you stop that?"

"HAHAHA! I knew it! Greece actually launched an honest-to-god cat at him! Now I've seen everything!" Then Denmark grinned over at Romano and pointed to Silvia. "You should defend your man by launching that thing at Greece! Then we can all pick up the furry beasts and just launch them at each other! We could have a literal cat fight! That'd be totally epic, don't cha think?!"

Romano's ire had been temporarily paused at the odd occurrence of a cat being launched at Spain, but the Dane's voice propelled it forward with the intensity of a tropical storm. "No fucking way, shithead! I'm not throwing my cat at that bastard!"

Spain stopped rubbing at his scratches to glare at Denmark. "Sí, we would never do that to our Silvia!" Then he glanced over at Greece with confusion. "And I'm surprised that you did that to your own gato. What was that for?!"

The normally languid expression on Greece's face was replaced with a displeased frown that was solely directed at the Spaniard. "Hera likes to use her claws, so I knew she wouldn't mind." For some the reason, the cat—Hera—actually didn't look ruffled at being thrown and was contently, and quite satisfyingly, licking her paw. "As for why I did it…I wasn't pleased with what you just did."

Romano's glare deepened and the anger blackening his mood violently intensified at Spain's puzzled face. "What I just did? But all I did was follow the rules of the game."

Un-fucking-believable.

"I believe Japan's answer was no," Greece insisted. "It's rude of you to impinge on his honor like that and ignore his wishes. Besides, I doubt Romano liked what you did."

Dozens of eyes turned to him, and Romano hated himself just a little for turning red. However, it took the strengthening of his glare to get them to look away. However, he couldn't bring himself to look Spain in the eye when he felt olive-green eyes on him.

Knowing Spain for as long as he did, Romano knew that the Spaniard's gaze was puzzled and trying to read him.

Does he seriously not know that what he did was not fucking okay?!

From the corner of his eye, Romano saw Spain about to crawl back over to him when the original potato bastard suddenly spoke up. "Ja, that wasn't very appropriate…in fact, this whole game is inappropriate. Perhaps we should stop-"

"What?!" America exclaimed. "No way, dude! We're not stopping when things are getting good! This game's the bomb!"

Germany frowned irritably at America. "How can you support this game when it encourages unwanted contact and inappropriate behavior?! For goodness sake, a cat was launched!" Spain winced and rubbed at the scratches on his face.

Italy unexpectedly gasped. "Oh no, Big Brother Spain, we almost forgot about those scratches! Those look like they hurt!" He grabbed the Spaniard by the arm and tried to tug him up. "We need Band-Aids to fix those ouchies!"

"Aw, c'mon! It was just one cat, and Spain's fine! We could still have fun with this! Here, we'll move on! Next round!" America nervously laughed as he spun the bottle.

Romano ignored him as he glared at his brother. He knew he ought to be the one to tend to Spain, but he really didn't want to deal with the brunette after he had so thoughtlessly kissed a man who wasn't him.

But he also didn't like how his brother was tending to his boyfriend.

Romano was so busy gritting his teeth and trying to decide where his anger should be directed that he didn't realize that the bottle had landed on him.

"Oh wow, the irony!" Romano vaguely heard Denmark exclaim. "Now South Italy gets to the turn the tables! Woo~! This should be good!"

Romano perked up at hearing his name. "Wait, what?"

"See?!" America exclaimed, completely ignoring the Italian's question as he spun the bottle again. "Told ya things were getting good! Now let's see who gets to kiss the other Italy!"

It took longer than Romano liked to realize that America was referring to him. "What?!"

"WHAT?!" Spain yelped as his eyes looked between Romano and the slowing-down bottle.

I didn't sign up for this shit, was all Romano could think when the bottle landed on America.

"Whoa-ho-ho~ Dude, the bottle actually landed on me! I did not see that coming!" He looked over at Romano with a small yet still exceptionally bright smile and crawled over to sit next to him. "Alright, bruh, before we do this, I'm just letting you know right now that you're not allowed to fall in love with me! I mean, don't get me wrong, you're pretty cool and kinda hot in your own way…and I don't mind that dudes make out, but it's just that I'm not into you like that. I know how heartbreaking that must be for you to realize that this stud hero doesn't dig you, but we could still be friends!" The hamburger bastard considered them friends? "And hey, YOLO right~?" He grinned and actually leaned over closer, startling the Italian into action.

"Wait, what?! Don't you dare, don't even think about it, hamburger bas-" His protests were cut off when America, in all his dumb ass glory, slammed his lips onto his.

Holy shit.

Romano was so stunned that this was actually happening that he was unable to respond in any way, remaining rigid and frozen. The kiss lasted for no more than a few seconds before America was suddenly wrenched away and the world made sense again. Romano flinched into awareness as he witnessed America getting violently shoved away from him by an enraged Spain.

"Keep your filthy lips off my Lovi, pendejo!" Spain snapped as America rubbed his head.

"Ouch! What the hell, dude?! What's your deal?!"

"My deal is that you were kissing mi novio, ¡cabrón! You and your fat lips should be nowhere near mi amor!"

There was tense moment of silence that even America and Korea didn't know how to fill until Russia said, "That was rather harsh, Spain. You should be more considerate of America's feelings."

It was either Spain's anger or 24/7 ditzy-ness that worked against him when he faced Russia, unfazed by the other's flaming purple aura. "Why should I if this pendejo is going to kiss my Lovi in front of me?"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Romano finally snapped, instantly getting to his feet. "You have no right to say a word you damned hypocrite!" Then he turned to America and angrily pointed to the blonde. "Pull shit like that on me again and I will personally trash every fucking McDonald's in your stupid country!"

America gasped and actually appeared appalled. "You wouldn't!"

Rather than answer him and endure being stared at, Romano clutched Silvia close and stormed out of the room. The music blaring in the house was still loud and obnoxious, serving to increase Romano's anger. He passed by several people, yet ignored them as he searched for the exit.

I need to get out of here. The tomato bastard can find his own way back. Romano shoved past a drunken Poland, knocking him into Lithuania, and tried to peer around the large throng of people dancing in the living room. Like hell, we're sharing a hotel room, though! He can stay with his stupid friends for all I care!

"Romano! Romano, wait!" The Italian stiffened and Silvia meowed at the Spaniard's voice. Refusing to turn around, Lovino pushed through the crowd. People bumped into him, but Romano held Silvia fast and managed to make it to the doorway to the kitchen.

"Lovi, where are you?!" Despite the noise, Romano could clearly hear the worry and anguish in Spain's voice. His eyes watered, prompting him to briefly squeeze his eyes shut to keep any hurt, frustrated tears at bay. Romano hurriedly stormed into the kitchen and ran into a strong body.

"Shit!" the Italian cursed before Silvia's startled cry caused him to freeze. He quickly looked to the cat and was relieved to see that she wasn't injured, merely startled. He immediately began petting her to soothe her. "Shit. Sorry."

"I'm somewhat offended that the apology wasn't for me."

Romano glanced up at Netherlands and realized that he bumped into the Dutchman, spilling the other's drink all over him. Wincing, he muttered, "Shit. My bad." Spotting a roll of paper towels on the counter, the Italian strode over and one-handedly unrolled a few sheets before thrusting them at Netherlands. "Here. Sorry about that. Send me the cleaning bill."

Netherlands raised a brow and dabbed at his shirt without looking away from Romano. "No harm done. Now, are you going to tell me why you look so upset?"

Goddammit, is it that obvious?! It was then that Romano became keenly aware of his heated face and moist eyes. Rapidly blinking, he turned away and unconsciously held Silvia closer. "I…I'm not upset, I'm pissed off…like I usually am!" Romano attempted to sound as firm and angry as he usually did, yet knew he failed.

Damn that stupid, Japan-kissing dumb ass of a tomato bastard…

Netherlands maneuvered himself so that he was back in Romano's line of sight. "It does seem like you're angry, but not like in your usual manner. You seem angry to a point of tears." Damn, why did Netherlands have to be so blunt? "What's happened?"

Romano tried to scowl and roughly shook his head. "None of your damn business! I'm fine!"

"No, you're not. Something has clearly upset you." Netherlands' eyes quickly swept over him. "It doesn't seem like you're injured-"

"I said I was fine, dammit!" Romano's voice caught at the last word as his eyes watered further (completely against his will, of course). "J-Just leave me alone!"

There was a beat of silence before Netherlands said, "Well, I suppose it's only fair that you don't tell me if you don't feel comfortable enough. Just know there will never be any judgement from me if you ever talk to me about anything."

Romano stiffened when he felt the other's hand rest on his shoulder. Looking up at Netherlands with surprise, Romano saw mild concern and sympathy buried deep within the typically stern expression of the Dutchman. The Italian found himself touched despite the sheer 'what-the-fuck-is-this-actually-happening?' vibes he was experiencing.

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen opened. "L-Lovi…?"

Flinching at the familiar voice, Romano peered over Netherlands to see Spain looking at them with shock.

Well, now shit.

Lovino hurriedly wiped his eyes and put on his usual scowl.

Hand still on the Italian's shoulder, the Dutch nation turned his head and grimaced. "Oh, it's you. I was actually wondering if you were floating around, or if you were too busy frolicking about to notice that your lover is distraught."

What the actual fuck? Romano immediately looked to Netherlands, mouth slightly agape.

Spain was quick to glare, hackles raised like Silvia when she's hissing at a threat to Romano's tomato garden. "What are you doing with my Lovi?"

Netherlands raised a brow before letting his hand fall away. "We were just conversing. No need to be hostile."

Spain stepped forward and jerked a thumb to gesture to the door. "Beat it."

Rolling his eyes, Netherlands turned to Romano and said, "Take care. Let me or Belgium know if you need anything." Then he rudely nudged Spain on his way out.

Antonio looked as if he was going to follow the Dutchman before loosening his shoulders with a frustrated sigh. When he turned his attention to Lovino, his posture and expression fully softened. "There you are, Roma. I almost lost you. Was that cabrón bothering you?"

Romano was briefly taken aback until his temper flared. "What?! No! Is that all you have to say to me, bastard?!" Silvia flinched and meowed in his grasp, getting Romano to set her down on the nearby counter.

Startled and so infuriatingly confused, Spain asked, "Um, am I supposed to say something else?"

"No shit! What the fuck was that all about back there?!" Romano angrily pointed at the kitchen door.

Although he meant to gesture in the general direction to stupid America's room, Spain thought he meant something else. Looking to the door, the Spaniard frowned. "It looked like Netherlands was getting too friendly with you again. I don't like being mean, but that perro has no right to-"

"That 'perro' was actually smart enough to figure out that I'm un-fucking-happy and nice enough to try and get me to talk so that I feel better so don't say shit about him!"

Spain's head whipped back around to pin him with an appalled gaze. "N-Nice? Lovi…how was he nice?"

Rolling his eyes, Romano retorted, "None of your damn business, jerk! Now how about you get your head out of your ass and actually focus on the real issue!" When it looked like the confusion was going to return, the Italian irritably snapped, "Aren't you going to ask me why I'm pissed off at you?!"

A smidgeon of guilt tugged within Romano at Spain's hurt expression, but like hell he was going to hold back on how pissed off he was. The tomato bastard needed to know that kissing other people was not okay.

"You're…You're mad at me?"

Damn—it seemed that the confusion was inevitable.

Romano vented a portion of a frustration through a growl and an off-to-the-side glare that would've intimidated the shit out of the refrigerator had it been sentient. "What was your first guess?"

"Well…don't keep huffing. Just tell me what I did wrong so that I can apologize and you won't be mad at me anymore."

"Do I seriously need to tell you?! Are you seriously not aware of what you did?!" And how dare Spain think that all it took to take away Romano's anger was to mindlessly apologize. He had no use for empty apologies.

Spain actually took a moment to contemplate the reasons for Romano's temper. Eventually, he slowly ventured, "Does this have to do with the spin the bottle game?"

Ring-a-ding-ding. "Yes it fucking does! In what universe is it okay to kiss someone that isn't your boyfriend?! Kissing Japan was not okay! And not just him either, bastard! I don't care who that bottle landed on, you don't kiss them when you're in an honest-to-god relationship!"

It took too damn long for Spain to respond. All he did for several minutes was stare at Romano like he couldn't believe that that was what angered the Italian, which distorted Romano's fury into something different. "Lovi…it was just a game. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Oh," Romano began so sarcastically that even Spain would be able to read the atmosphere, "like how America didn't mean anything by kissing me?" A part of him was satisfied to see Spain displeased by the reminder. "Or how Netherlands didn't mean anything by comforting me?"

He knew that was a low blow—Romano knew that kicking Spain in the vital regions and setting his tomato garden ablaze would've had a lesser impact—but he went for it anyways.

Spain's reaction was just as Romano predicted: his eyes widened in shock before narrowing in suspicion and outrage. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you think I mean?" Romano responded, twisting the knife further.

Spain looked taken aback. His expression wavering between shocked and vexed, the nation digested the information. "Did…Did you…seek out Netherlands?" Just as Romano was deciding between answering sarcastically or indignantly, Spain shook his head with disgust. "It's one thing if you're angry at me, but it is not okay if you're angry enough to try and hurt me back. You know how I feel about Netherlands, and you still…" He trailed off as he looked to the side with a hurt scowl.

The tomato bastard wasn't apologizing like he should. Screw sarcasm or indignation. Bitterness was the way to go. "Oh boo hoo, you saw me talking to a guy who actually cares about my feelings."

"I care about your feelings, Lovi-"

"Doesn't seem like it," Romano coldly retorted. "If you did, then maybe I wouldn't have had to rely on the pot bastard for providing a shoulder to cry on!"

Shit—seemed like the word triggered the action. Romano felt his face redden in shame as tears began welling up again.

Damn him…damn him for making me feel this way.

"You know what," Romano snapped as he hurriedly looked away. "I don't need this! Why don't you go back to the game and kiss someone else! Kiss everyone at this whole damn party for all I care! You sure looked like you were enjoying yourself!"

Romano was stomping out of the kitchen and then out of the house before Spain could reply. He half-expected the Spaniard to come after him, to plead and be as overdramatic as he usually was. Lovino wasn't sure if he was surprised, relieved, or disappointed as he kept walking and didn't hear the door slamming or his boyfriend's voice. Instead, he heard miserable meows, and he turned to see Silvia scampering to catch up to him. Once she did, she rubbed against his legs and continued with her whining.

Normally, Romano didn't tolerate whining, but he made an exception for her. Sighing, he stooped down and scooped her up. Her meowing gradually eased into purring.

Romano wetly chuckled and continued striding to his car with Silvia in tow. "At least someone's loyal. C'mon—let's get out of here. When that bastard's ready to apologize, he'll know where to find us."

...I'm sorry.

Have a safe Halloween, everyone!

Spanish

gatos- cats

Hola- Hello

Sí- Yes

amigo- friend

pendejo- idiot/dumb ass/stupid (but it's like a really derogatory thing to call someone)

mi novio- my boyfriend

cabrón- bastard

mi amor- my love

perro- dog

Italian

Ciao- Hello

French

Angleterre- England

moi- me

mon petit lapin- my little rabbit

mon cher- my dear

German/Prussian

Scheiße- Shit

Ja- Yes

Russian

da- yes

Sladkiy- Sweet one

Japanese

Nani? - Excuse me?