Hello there and welcome back! As usual, thanks for the support of you readers! If I could, I'd send each and every one of you a gift basket based on your favorite Hetalia character :D

Rin: Wow, thank you so much for your comments! They left me beaming and all warm and fuzzy inside~ Thanks a lot for your support! I appreciate it :D

So…Sicily didn't go quite as planned. In fact, it was a disaster. Everyone had been against him and, to make things worse, Spain lost all his ties with the country of Italy. Essentially, not only did he not get Romano back, but he lost any chance he had at seeing his old colony ever again. He was forbidden from even doing business with either South or North Italy and had absolutely no ties or ownership or control over them anymore.

"Hold still, sir. This might sting." The nurse kneeling before Spain gave him an apologetic smile before she started stitching up the gash on his arm. He winced at the flare of pain and briefly tensed up until he began to relax. After surviving many wars in the centuries he's been alive, Antonio has gotten use to the familiar pain of wounds and has learned to mentally overcome the ache and throbbing and blood and such. Besides, he had already been stitched up three other times already.

Currently, he was sitting on a cot in a medical unit, which was essentially a tent with doctors and nurses scrambling about, and being attended to by a fretful nurse. Being a country had its perks; all the injuries and bodily damages he sustained during this recent war were enough to kill a human, but were already starting to heal themselves. He truly was lucky…so why didn't he feel as such?

Oh right…because he lost the war…horribly. Spain felt like an outcast within Europe since no one had had his back, and he was betrayed by people he considered friends. Worst of all though, he lost his chance at seeing Romano ever again. In all essence, he broke his promise to get his little colony back.

Spain let out a frustrated, infuriated growl, and the nurse frowned, believing her actions to be the cause. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm almost done." Sure enough, she only took a few more minutes to stitch up his wound before cleaning it up and wrapping it up. "There you go, all done. You're really lucky, you know. Most men in your position wouldn't have been able to sustain as many wounds as you have without having to bleed out. I don't know how you did it, but I guess there's a reason we tend not to question miracles. Just be happy you're alive and that this war is over as far as I know…well, at least that's what I hear anyways."

Antonio couldn't help but snort, unable to quell his foul mood. "Happy…right." At the nurse's bewildered, borderline appalled expression, the Spaniard sighed and inquired in a less bitter manner, "Did they manage to save any of my stuff?"

"A couple of things from what I understand," the nurse responded, blinking away the concern in her eyes. "I can't remember exactly, but I believe your flask was recovered—although I wouldn't drink anything that's in it—and your axe. I know there are others, but I can't recall what."

"What about my coat?" Spain asked with a hopeful gleam in his voice. "Do you know if that was salvaged?"

The woman thought it over and then reflectively nodded. "Yes, I do recall your coat being retrieved. Would you like your stuff now, sir?"

"Sí, por favor." The nurse nodded and left to fetch them. Spain watched her go for a moment before rolling his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. All around him, nurses and doctors alike were bustling about, attending to the owners of the sounds of agony, screams of pain, hysterical crying, and other unidentifiable noises that ranged between anguish and panic. The tent reeked of sweat, blood, dirt, bodily oils, medical supplies, urine, and feces with an underlying metallic tinge to it all, and the smell was just about as bad as how disorganized, disorderly, disgusting, and chaotic the place was.

The horrible image that assaulted his vision and the putrid stench did nothing to ease Spain's foul mood, and he averted his eyes to stare at his bandaged wounds. The nurse was right, he was lucky. Antonio had been in the middle of grappling with some British soldier (unfortunately not the cabrón nation himself) when a couple of others had ambushed him from behind and stabbed at him with their swords. Luckily for him though, he managed to fight them off until he got some back-up. Eventually, his injured, weary body was removed off the battlefield and into this medical tent, where he received word that the war was over…and that he lost.

Spain was pulled from his grim thoughts when the nurse returned with his coat folded up with his flask, some other articles of clothing, and his boots resting on top of it. "Here you go, Señor. I believe that's everything." As she handed them to him, Antonio noticed that his axe, swords, and daggers were nowhere to be seen. The nurse noticed his quizzical expression and explained, "Your weapons have been placed elsewhere. I'm sorry, but it's the rules around here: no one is allowed to have weapons, just in case. Don't worry though, you can get them back once you're cleared to leave." She gave him a warm, reassuring smile that prompted the upward twitching of the corner of his mouth.

"Gracias, señorita, I appreciate this."

The woman nodded and said, "Well, I need to get to some of the others around here so you'll have to excuse me. If you need anything though, call for me or any of the others."

"Alright, I will."

"Is there anything else I can do for you before I go? Are you in any pain?"

Spain shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thank you." The nurse inclined her head once more before heading off to help with other patients. Now that he was alone, Antonio let his guard down and allowed his shoulders to slump. Oh if his enemies were to see him now…

They'd have a lot of fun slaughtering him in his weak state, right after they were done laughing at him for looking so helpless and pathetic. Whatever happened to the all-powerful Spanish Empire that every country feared and respected? Spain sighed. Those days were gone now, he couldn't deny that. His armada has been long gone (next time he sees Britain, he's going to strangle him), he lost most of his claim on the New World, and he just lost the war that could've gotten him Romano back.

Fate was just a cruel mistress.

Imagining the betrayal and disappointment on Romano's face made Spain clench his fists and tighten his jaw. No. He can't lose Romano. He just couldn't. The little Italian was too much a part of his world for him to let go. Putting his stuff aside, Spain held tight to his coat and hurriedly, anxiously dug through its pockets. He was soon rewarded when his fingers touched something thin and slightly rough.

The Spaniard breathed out with ease when he lightly grasped onto a sheet of parchment and pulled out Romano's picture. His garden greeted him with its bright, cheerful colors and looked no worse for wear save for a few wrinkles, much to Spain's relief. He had it with him during battle, and he had been worried that it was torn or ruined in some way or another.

Spain let his eyes roam over the picture and a small smile brushed over his lips before it disappeared. He then closed his eyes for a moment before releasing a sigh. The picture gave him the bittersweet thought of his young ex-colony strutting around his mansion with that familiar scowl on his face; the image was enough to make his heart ache. It had hurt when Romano was first taken away from him, but what had kept Spain going was the hope that he could get him back. Now that that chance was officially gone, he felt hollow and true sorrow invaded his senses.

Taking one last glance at the picture, Spain stared at the parchment until something in him was ignited, causing him to sit up straighter. No. I can't just give up so easily. I may have lost this war, but that doesn't mean I've lost Romano yet. I need to see him…at least one last time! Nodding to himself, Antonio attempted to get up before a jolt of pain flared up in his abdomen. His injuries…right.

Letting out a slightly annoyed growl, Spain glanced around the tent and saw his nurse not too far away. He called her over and once she approached, he asked, "Excuse me, Miss, but do you know when I can leave?"

As if knowing he'd ask that at some point, the woman responded, "I'm not entirely sure, sir. You could be here from a few days to a few weeks, depending on how long it takes for your wounds to heal. Until then though, you must stay here and recover."

Like hell I will. "And what if I told you that I'm feeling fine right now? Will you allow me to leave?"

Giving him a knowing yet apologetic smile, the nurse replied, "I'm sorry, but that's not my decision to make; we're actually waiting on a couple of doctors to arrive here so that they could handle some of our patients who are in more critical conditions. We need one of them to look you over and give you a clean bill of health. And from what I see, you're not ready to leave yet anyways. You look like you still need to rest and heal." At the look of dismay on Antonio's face, she added, "I understand that you want to leave and you're not the first; many of the soldiers here want to go and see their friends and family, but they need to be treated so that they don't inadvertently cause more damage to themselves. I don't know who's waiting out there for you, but they can afford to wait a little longer…just until you recover properly. I'm sure they'll understand."

Spain clenched his jaw, yet knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing. So instead, he nodded and put on a bright, fake smile. "Alright, señorita, I understand. Thank you for letting me know." He then lay back on the pillows of the cot. "I guess I'll just rest now. Send a doctor over here when you have a chance though." He paused and glanced up at curtains meant to separate him from the people laying other cots around him. "Oh, and could you do me a favor and draw the curtains? I wish to not be disturbed."

"Of course." The nurse offered him one last apologetic smile before adjusting the curtains so that he was blocked out from the rest of the infirmary. Spain listened to her footsteps recede until they faded into the rest of the sounds around him. Almost immediately he hurriedly began to change into the clothes he had been given, slipping on his coat and boots and putting Romano's picture into his pocket.

With that settled, Antonio quickly peeked out the curtains and waited until he was sure no one was watching him so that he could sneak out. He was given a chance when a couple of medics rushed in, carrying a severely wounded soldier. The nurses within the vicinity instantly rushed over to examine him, and Spain sent the man his thanks as well as a silent prayer as he used that moment of distraction to slip out another exit.

Hang on, Romano. Here I come!

{~/~/~}

So…living with Austria basically sucked. In fact, Romano could barely stand living there at all. He had to force himself to get up every morning to get started on a boring day of chores, chores, chores, and more chores. The only times he ever got to relax was during mealtimes and bedtime, and it was gradually driving him mad. He had no idea how Veneziano did it for so long, although he figured that it was because that idiot brother of his was too dense and spineless to complain.

Well…it's not like he could really tell Austria off either…but it's not his fault! Austria's regal nature was pretty damn intimidating! You try going up to the aristocratic prick and tell him that you refuse to work so hard while he's looking at you with those disapproving eyes of his! Besides, Feliciano had mentioned that once when he was a child, Roderich had caught him 'lazing about' and had locked him in a dark room for a while to teach him a lesson (that bastard…). Though Lovino's not scared of the dark (he isn't, dammit!), there was no way in hell that he wanted to waste his day locked in a room. Hell no!

So as it was, Romano kept his mouth shut (rather reluctantly) and did his chores stoically and in a rather irritable manner. Austria was initially wary about having him do certain things, fully aware of his natural clumsiness and laziness, yet eventually he found that there were particular tasks that Romano wasn't completely useless in and others that he could (more or less) do right with the proper incentive and with little to no damage.

Lovino didn't especially care if he knocked over or broke any of the piano bastard's possessions (he sometimes did it on purpose), but he hated the consequences that followed (boring-ass lectures, instructions on how to do something properly, no supper for the day, etc.). So for the most part, Romano did his best he could on his chores yet did so as slowly as possible so that he had less to do for the day. Also, when he could, he'd sneak off and shirk on the duties he particularly didn't want to do, and then made an excuse about how he was doing something else instead (emphasizing that that 'something else' was "very" important).

In fact, he was currently doing that now. After being told to wash all the windows of the mansion, Romano instead chose to creep outside and sit under a tree in the garden, the same one he had actually ran to on his first day, and was presently watching a small group of wild geese floating on the tiny pond, kicking about. He enjoyed the peace and was absentmindedly tossing his piece of silver from one hand to the other. He relished moments like this where he didn't have to worry about Austria breathing down his back, Italy and Hungary fussing over him like he was some little kid, or the occasional times when France and Prussia came over for international affairs and bothered him (France was always asking him inappropriate questions and getting in his personal space while Prussia just…bugged him by being his stupid self).

Putting the chunk of silver away, Romano breathed in the cool, fresh air and briefly closed his hazel eyes to listen to the gentle whispering of the wind breezing through the trees, the soft splashes of water, the periodic squawks of the geese, and the other pure, genuine sounds that only nature could sing. He had to hand it to the Austrian bastard; that douche might be a dickhead, but his garden was beautiful.

He still can't stand that piano-playing son of a bitch though.

Well…if Romano had to be completely honest with himself, he supposed living here wasn't all that bad. For one thing, he was finally reunited with his brother (even if Veneziano could be a pain in the ass at times…). Also, Hungary wasn't too bad, and Romano appreciated her watching out for him and taking the time to talk to him and check up on him. Moreover, despite that pervy France and weirdo Prussia gave him the creeps, it was funny watching them mess with Austria; the prick was always flabbergasted whenever France flirted with him and pissy whenever Prussia annoyed and insulted him, but the best part was Hungary smacking the both of them with a frying pan.

So all in all, he supposes he's gotten used to his new life.

The Italian was yanked from his musings by the sound of leaves rustling as well as what seemed to be grunts of exertion form the other side of the stone wall nearby; it was almost as if someone was trying to get over the wall…

Lovino stiffened and his heart began to race. What the hell is that?! Are we being invaded?! Horrified by the thought of some menacing-looking enemy (which strangely had the face of the Ottoman Empire) climbing over to the wall to sneak in, Romano immediately bit back a very unmanly shriek and was wondering how long it would take for him to run back to the mansion and raise holy hell before the unknown assailant could get the jump on them.

However, he didn't get a chance to find out when said unknown assailant finally scaled the wall and reached the top…only to lose his grip and clamber over, letting out a startled cry and hitting the ground with a loud THUMP! Romano emitted a quick scream and stumbled back before he got a good look at the invader. Almost immediately his posture loosened and his expression morphed from fear to confusion to finally settling on anger. "What the hell are you doing here, bastard?!"

Spain released a groan of pain before lifting up his head. Once he spotted the Italian, he instantly beamed with delight and shot up. "Romano~!" And with that, he rushed over and enveloped his ex-colony in a tight, relieved hug. Lovino squeaked and stiffened before melting (uh he means, being forced) into the embrace (which he did not enjoy…he didn't!).

Eventually, Romano pulled away and glared at the ground. "O-Okay, that's enough…jerk."

Spain brightly smiled at him and exclaimed, "I can't believe it's you! I hardly recognize you! You've gotten so big and so tall and so handsome! Where have the years gone?! You are practically a man now!"

God, that cheerful disposition of him sent a jolt of nostalgia through Lovino. He attempted to hide it by deepening the furrow of his brow and folding his arms over his chest. "Practically a man? I am a man, goddammit!" He pouted when the Spaniard chuckled. "Why the hell are you even trying to sneak in here anyways?! Don't you know that Austria will send his guards on your ass if he catches you here?!"

Antonio sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Sí, I know, but I had to come here. Es muy importante. I came here for you."

Romano's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing back down to a scowl, and he snorted. "For me? What are you going on about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Spain tilted his head in confusion. "I came here because I had to see you. My plan was to sneak in and try and find you myself, but luck would have it that I run into you now! That makes things just so much easier!" He happily beamed for a moment before his smile dimmed. "Romano, we need to talk."

The Southern portion of Italy was initially speechless until he managed to regain himself. "What about, bastard?"

Spain sighed and glanced around the garden. "Before I say anything though, will we be safe here? Like will anyone interrupt?"

Romano shrugged. "I doubt it. No one ever really comes out here other than me and the gardener so we should be fine."

Nodding in relief, Antonio gestured over to the tree and proposed, "Shall we sit?"

Shrugging again, Lovino plopped down in his original spot while his companion took a seat next to him. The two sat in silence until Spain eventually spoke up. "Well, first things first, how are you, Roma? It's been so long since I've seen you. Are you enjoying yourself here?"

The Italian scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Enjoying myself? Please. Austria's a dick." At Spain's startled, concerned expression, Romano added, "But I'm fine…stop making that pouty face, jerk, you're making my stomach sick!"

Spain let out a small laugh to release the sense of unease he had just been experiencing. "Okay, I guess that's not all bad. I know what you mean though. Austria is very tough to get along with." Now that's an understatement, Romano thought. "But I guess that's why Prussia loves bugging him so much~ Anyways, I'm sorry to hear that you're not really happy here. And…" he paused as his expression grew dismal and guilty, "…and I'm sorry that you're even here in the first place. Trust me, it was never my intention to lose you."

Romano felt something wrench within his chest from both his former caretaker's sadness and the sudden jolt of homesickness that struck him. Regardless, he refused to let it show so he maintained his glare. "Yeah sure, whatever."

"I mean it, Romano, I am truly most sincerely sorry for everything. I should've done more to make sure that you weren't taken away from me. I should've told my boss that Archduke Charles should just keep the throne, it didn't matter much to me. I should've been stronger so that I would've won this war. Oh, there are just so many things I should've done. I should've-"

"Get to the point, idiota!" the Italian snapped in annoyance. "I don't need to hear you feeling sorry for yourself! It's annoying!"

"Sorry Roma. It's just that…" he sighed and then gently placed his hands on Romano's shoulders, "life has been empty without you, mijo. I miss you."

Lovino's breath caught. Spain actually missed him? But…but he let me go. He didn't care enough about me to keep me… Not wanting to be fooled (because being fooled by the tomato bastard of all people was insulting and just sad…certainly not heartbreaking…), the Italian strengthened his resolve. "Doesn't seem like that to me."

Spain actually flinched back as if electrocuted. "¿Qué? What do you mean by that?!"

"Don't play dumb, stupid, you're dense enough as it is without you having to fake it. You say that you miss me, but I'm sure you wanted to get rid of me the first chance you got. You did it once when you tried to trade me for Feliciano so why should this time be any different?" Dammit, why does he sound more bitter than annoyed?

"No Romano!" Lovino was startled by the intensity of Antonio's voice. "You cannot believe that! I refuse to let you! I regret letting the other countries take you from me about a thousand times and even infinitely more so when I attempted to trade you and your brother! I will never forgive myself for either of those acts, but you need to understand that I care for you very deeply and that I'd do anything for you! You don't know how hard I fought in this war just to earn a chance to get you back!"

All of a sudden, the intense passion within Spain's voice diminished until he was left timid, unsure, and remorseful. "But I guess it wasn't enough because I've lost you forever, I've broken my promise. Romano…I am so sorry for all the pain I am sure I have caused you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday." The Spaniard hung his head low, and the light in his lush-green orbs dulled like the lead on a frequently-used pencil.

For a moment, Lovino didn't know what to say. Seeing Antonio like this, so weary and broken up, brought him back to the day he had to leave for Austria's place. If Romano really set his mind to it, he couldn't recall the last time he had seen Spain so despondent; even when he lost wars or colonies to other countries, the older man always had a smile on his face and a phrase that went along the lines of 'oh well, I'll get them next time~'

This sense of hopelessness and despair wasn't meant to touch upon Spain, let alone linger and make itself at home.

Romano blinked hard a couple of times and then turned his scowling gaze over to the pond. "There's no need to get dramatic, you bastard. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Spain's eyes widened as he looked to his former charge with disbelief. "¿Qué?"

Growing increasingly flustered, Romano couldn't stop his cheeks from blazing a fierce red. "Don't make me spell it out for you, bastardo! I can't forgive you if there's nothing to be sorry for in the first place! I get what it's like to submit to the whims of your people so stop with your sulking and let it go! I'm used to living with douchebag Austria and there's nothing I can do about it…but I don't blame you!" There, he said it. Though Romano wanted to blame Spain and curse him for his misfortunes, he knew deep down that he couldn't (frustratingly enough). "Now go back to being your stupid happy self! This new side of you is weird and dumb as hell!"

By now, the Italian's face was burning even in the coolness of the tree's shade and he kept his eyes on the pond. Oh would you look at that…two of the geese seem to be flirting with one another.

"Lovi…" Romano stiffened ever so slightly and jerked his head to look at Spain at the sudden nickname. Then without warning, the older nation had pulled him in for a hug, burrowing his head in the Italian's slim neck. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

The only reason Romano let Spain hug him for so long was because he figured that the tomato bastard needed it and because he was too in shock to pull away. No, it wasn't because he liked being hugged by Spain…hell no! Eventually though, Lovino's flustered thoughts gave way to reality when he finally perceived Antonio's locks brushing against his neck. Fighting back a shudder at the ticklish sensation, Romano growled and pushed his former caretaker off of him, keeping him at arm's length. "Stop that, you jerk! I already told you that I am a man now and men don't hug! Hugging's for sissies!"

Spain lightly chuckled with an odd mixture of fondness and sheepishness. "Haha, sorry about that. I guess I just needed a little 'tough love'. I haven't had it in a while since you're not around to give it to me anymore." The offhand comment made his smile falter before it sprang back up. "I'm glad though that there are no hard feelings between us. I would never forgive myself if you hated me…though I wouldn't blame you."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Whatever bastard, I don't hate you…yet!" he quickly added to save face. After all, he had a reputation to uphold! "So stop with the sappiness! I've had enough of it for one day!"

"Lo siento, I'll stop now." Antonio's smile regained its familiar glow as he pulled the younger man in for one last hug. Before Romano could push him away, however, Spain winced and flinched away, pressing a hand to his side. "¡Hijo de puta! Damn that still hurts!"

Concern flashed through Romano (though he had no idea why…) as he automatically examined the Spaniard. "What the hell is your problem?"

Spain looked to him with an embarrassed smile. "Oh nothing, I'm just a bit injured from the war. They are just a couple of scratches and bruises though—nothing to worry about."

Romano raised an eyebrow and sarcastically remarked, "Right, and Netherlands doesn't hate your guts to a point where he can't stand to eat waffles in the same room as you. Don't you pull this pansy 'I won't make a big deal out of this so I won't worry Romano' shit! I'm not a little kid anymore, just give it to me straight: how badly are you hurt?"

Avoiding the question, Spain playfully quipped, "Oh Romano, it almost sounds like you care about Boss~"

For some reason, that statement caused Romano's traitorous face to blush a bright tomato-red. "I…I don't, you jerk! I-I just…I just want to know so I can know where to hit you the next time you try to hug me without my permission! It'll sure hurt like hell if I punch you where you got stabbed or something!" His stomach twisted at the thought of a sword ramming through Spain and spewing out torrents of blood.

Oblivious to the other's thoughts, Antonio chuckled and said, "I'm sure it would hurt. But seriously though, I'm okay. I'm a nation, remember? I heal quicker. I just need to rest a little longer, that's all; I'm actually supposed to be doing that now instead of sitting here and talking with you."

"What?!" Lovino angrily and incredulously exclaimed. "You mean to tell me that you should be in bed right now, but instead you're up and about and being stupid?!"

Spain actually pondered that before he shrugged. "I guess so."

Romano glared at him for a moment until he slowly shook his head. "Unbelievable…you dumb ass."

"But Lovi, this was important! I had to come and see you or else I might never get the chance to ever again! It's possible that I might never see you again after this!"

The possibility horrified both nations (which Romano mentally denied and dismissed it as his hormones fucking with him…stupid puberty) and the Southern portion of Italy promptly shoved that feeling aside and twisted it into a quick flare of his temper. "What did I just say about being dramatic?! Even if you're not my boss anymore it's not like we'll never see each other again! Dio, I'm sure we'll find some way to talk again!" Realizing what he just said, Romano's face immediately bloomed into a dark shade of red as he hurriedly amended, "I-I mean, I'm sure you'll find a way to hunt me down and bore me with all your damn talking!"

Spain stared at his ex-colony before a small smile quirked at his lips. "Are you alright, Romano? Your face is all red~" He chuckled when the Italian stuttered out an incoherent excuse that was mixed in with some curses. "You're right though; even after I leave today, we'll see each other again, I'll make sure of it. I mean, just look at us now! I snuck over that wall just to see you!"

The only thing Lovino could say to regain his dignity was to mutter, "Idiota."

Antonio only lightly laughed at that. Soon, the two lapsed into a companionable silence as they were left to their own thoughts. After a while, Spain voiced a question that sporadically came to mind. "So, does this mean we're friends?"

Romano started and gaped at him. "What the…'friends'?! Where the hell would you get a stupid idea like that?!"

I never said I missed you, dammit! Where did you get a stupid idea like that?! Ah, it seems like some things never change.

"Well, for a while you were my henchman and I was more like your guardian, but now that you're older, we're more like equals now. Besides, you don't work for Boss Spain anymore so it'd be weird for me to think of you as a subordinate. And yet, we get along better than a henchman and boss would anyways, so that must mean we're friends!" Spain perked up at the thought.

Romano spluttered out his protests before settling with an angry, "Your logic is bull and you don't know shit! How can you say we're friends when I can barely tolerate you?! You're like an annoying fly or a rat or a German!"

"Haha, oh you're funny, Roma~ I'll admit I've missed this."

"Missed what? You annoying the holy hell out of me?"

"No, I've missed just you in general and your…colorful personality. My mansion es muy tranquilo without you."

Romano snorted with disbelief. "I somehow doubt that with your stupid incessant talking and your stupid guards stomping about and your stupid maids fussing over the place and all those stupid people you did business with, including your stupid friends who always got drunk."

Almost instantly, Spain's smile faded and he glanced wistfully to the side. "France and Prussia…right. I wonder if we're even friends anymore." It was like the older brunette was voicing his thoughts aloud rather than speaking to Romano directly. "They…fought against me and I fought them too. I'd like to think they had to because of their bosses, but…but what if they fought me because they don't like me anymore? Oi vey…" He slumped forward and wearily rested his head in his hands.

"I always knew those two were dickheads," Lovino muttered to himself. However, catching sight of Antonio's sour, dismal expression made the young teen blow out a breath of frustration. Seeing the former conquistador like this was just pathetic so the Italian felt obligated to say, "Stop sulking, dammit! Once this whole thing blows over, I'm sure the fuckface and albino bastard will be back at your place, scarring all the decent folk within the vicinity with their dumb ass ways!"

Despite the rather blunt and crude wording of the other's 'comfort', Spain actually seemed somewhat heartened and soothed by what he had to say. "You really think so, Romano?" The Italian addressed blinked at him and contemplated banging his head against the tree. He actually sounds happy about staying friends with those losers. Ugh, it never fails to amaze me what does and doesn't get past this guy…

Keeping his thoughts to himself, however, Romano could only roll his shoulder in a lazy shrug, and Spain was suddenly all smiles again. "Oh gracias, chico! I'm glad you think so! This entire war has been really hard for a number of reasons, but a lot has to do with me, France, and Prussia fighting each other! Jeez, our bosses make us do the meanest things sometimes!" He shook his head as if silently berating his king, and Lovino made a light grunt, preparing himself for another one of Spain's rambling chats.

"But you're right, things will be back to normal in no time! It'll be just like any other war with the other nations: we all fight, we get angry at each other, the war ends and then we're all cool. Sure, there are some hard feelings sometimes, but they go away eventually and it's not like we all end up hating each other forever. Heck, can you imagine, Romano? I don't know what I'd do if I lost my amigos."

His chuckle was immediately cut off as something struck him. He then whipped his head towards his companion and South Italy nearly flinched back from the intensity of his forest-green orbs. "Romano, no matter what happens, no matter what wars plague the world and what the other countries do to one another, you will always be my friend and I will always care about you. Even if our countries were at war, I'd throw down my axe and refuse to fight you."

South Italy rolled his eyes. "You're being dramatic again."

"Nevertheless, please…just remember that for me, will you?"

Romano paused at the seriousness in his tone, briefly flashing back to when the Spaniard had given him the chunk of silver currently resting in his pocket, and then reluctantly nodded, not saying a word. It was more than enough for Spain who produces a relieved smile. "Gracias, mijo~ That means everything to me."

"Yeah, whatever. Just…just shut up about it."

Antonio let out a hearty laugh, lightening up the soberly earnest mood, and responded, "Sure thing, if that's what you want~ Oh Lovi, I'm so excited that we're friends! We'll send each other letters, we'll eat tomatoes again, maybe I'll try and teach you Spanish, we'll pull pranks on Austria, and the best part is we'll be all hush-hush about it…we'll be like secret best friends!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, tomato bastard! I barely even agree with this shit…and there's no way in hell I'm learning Spanish again! The words are all wrong!"

The rest of the afternoon went on like this, with Spain being his usual bubbly, giddy self and Romano snapping at him. The routine was so familiar to them that they didn't consciously notice, yet deep down something new stirred inside each of them: it dawned on Spain that Romano wasn't the same child that he had been raising and ultimately realized that the Italian was growing up and, therefore, his perception on the teen should be altered ever so slightly; Romano came to understand and ('begrudgingly') accept that Spain actually cared for him and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed within his chest at the thought of being able to count on the older man to be there for him.

The circumstances that left the two where they currently were had triggered a chain reaction that they had yet to see but somehow sensed. Much like how wildlife can perceive the subtle changes in nature without needing the proof of snow for the start of winter or the colorful changing of leaves to indicate the beginning of autumn, Spain and Romano knew then and there that their kinship was blossoming into something different, unique, and more extraordinary than what they were used to, and the thought stuck with them even when Antonio had to go.

From that point on, everything changed.

Alright, another chapter down! This one officially closes the awkward gap that I mentioned in the last chapter so now we're back on track! Basically, if I hadn't have added chapters 3 and 4, the next chapter would've been the 3rd rather than the 5th. When you think about it, the transition would've been uneven :P

Just so you know, future chapters will be a lot less heavy and more lighter :)

The war mentioned was the "War of the Quadruple Alliance". Basically, Spain tried to seize Sicily and lost horribly, bad enough to lose all access to his control of Italy. I got sad when I learned that Spain had no backup during all of this and I imagined him fighting against France and Prussia. It broke my heart :(

But on a positive note, Spain will always have Romano~ ;)

Until next time!

Translations:

Spanish

Sí, por favor-Yes, please

cabrón-bastard

Señor-Mister/Sir

Gracias, señorita-Thank you, Miss

Es muy importante-It's very important

¿Qué?-What?

Lo siento-I'm sorry

¡Hijo de puta!-Son of a bitch!

es muy tranquilo-it's very quiet

amigos-friends