A/N: Okay. Here is just some non-filler~ Flavio and Andres. Get ready~

Chapter 15: Can Do

It had been three weeks, three damn weeks. Flavio was curled up on the couch in Andres's clothes consisting of sweat pants and a large (on him) t-shirt with a bucket of ice cream and the remote tucked under his left thigh. All the lights were off since he wanted to sulk and in his opinion, who needed lights when no one was here to see him?

He sat binge watching his show and totally blowing his diet. His hair was a wreck and his sunglasses were gathering dust on his dresser. He shoved another spoon full in his mouth and watched the woman on the screen began to sob and call out for her lover, who ironically on his part, too was missing.

No texts, no calls, no way of possibly knowing where the Spaniard ran off to for so long. This was a common occurrence, but for some reason Flavio cursed him for leaving. He spent nights not being able to sleep; therefore he just wandered through the dark house, tracing the walls with light finger tips in a nostalgic manner.

He had not taken a test to see if he was pregnant because he saw no point. If he was pregnant, he figured he would know sooner or later. With this thought, a wine bottle had sat on the coffee table with a glass about three feet from him for about a week and a half. He knew he probably shouldn't open it, but that didn't stop temptation.

So he allowed it to sit there, mocking him in a sort of way whenever he glanced over, away from the commercial skip that took forever for some reason on their DVR. He sighed and looked down at the empty ice cream tub. He groaned and got up, sluggishly getting up and going to the kitchen to retrieve more junk food.

'This is soooo not like me…' he thought to himself as he snaked his way back onto the couch with his treats and looked back at the TV. Would he been more attentive, he would have noticed the shadowy figure that sit on the couch beside him.

"…boo…" it came flatly, but it was music to the Italians ears, that is, if he could stop glaring. Andres let loose a mischievous smile at the look and waved slightly. "Hola." Flavio narrowed his now glowing pink eyes "Hola yourself, jerk." He shot back, coming out more whiney than menacing. Andres chuckled deeply and looked at him "You look like shit."

Flavio just turned his attention to the TV again and popped some cookie dough in his mouth. Andres raised an eyebrow and tried again. "…but only you can pull off a shit look" he noted that the Italian was still listening when he saw the blush and decided to explain himself.

"I was with Portugal an-""Why should I care? You never tell me anything anyway so why start now? So you can get laid tonight? Because it isn't happening" sass laced his tone thickly and he took another bite of cookie dough, speaking sloppily through it "you're grounded"

Andres looked at him funny, usually the Italian would be all over him in sparkles and claiming he couldn't stay mad at him. Now he was just being a brat. "….I can leave again."

Flavio scoffed "Be no different. See if you can stay away longer, I need to see if you can beat three weeks so I can get fat and you leave me. No- Hey! Put mee down! ANDRES HERNADEZ DEL ROSA CARRIENDOOO!" he said this while clinging as the Spaniard hoisted him over his shoulder and started for the bedroom.

"You smell like damn sugar." He said through the pathetic punches the Italian was delivering down his back. 'So he isn't that angry' Andres noted and continued to go to the closet. "Hurry up and pick out something nice to wear, we're going out to dinner and I want you to look like you, not some grande puta that has no self-esteem." He said, setting the Italian down in the walk in closet gently, his fists still balled up and swinging weakly.

"You left me!" he cried out, actually crying, which set an alarm off in the Spanish nation. He had to do something quick. "U-uh, w-well I just- WOULD YOU STOP HITTING ME?" the sudden shout made Flavio pause and pull back his shaky hands, trembling fists going to his own jawline before he let rip a loud, heart breaking sob that shook Andres's core.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, why was this so damn difficult? The Italian hadn't acted like this since the Armada, and that was a long fucking time ago. "No, don't cry- Corazon? Amor~" he spoke warmly, only loud enough to get passed the sobs. He saw that this didn't work so he pulled the crying Italian into a hug, allowing him to bury his head in his chest so he could stroke the blond hair.

The Italian took short gasping breaths to try and calm down, feeling the warmth radiating from the Spaniard, the embrace letting him know he was no longer alone. He began laughing breathlessly, tears still streaming. "I- I look *hic* a d-damn wreck…an- and here I am, crying pathetically~!" he giggled, albeit crazy. He left the hug to grab a tissue to dab his eyes.

Andres tilted his head. 'Damn…that mood changed quickly…' he thought to himself, or so he thought. He had uttered it flatly and this made Flavio look at him equally funny. "…What's that supposed to mean Andres?" he said it sweetly but his face didn't match his tone. It was confused and had a trace of worry.

Andres shook his head quickly, his dark maroon eyes darting away. He was actually kind of fidgety, praying that he hadn't once again upset his lover. Flavio looked small, kind of crumbled and sad without his usual clothes, Andres's own baggy as could be on him. Without his makeup, heel boots and usual fabulous attire, he looked small and broken. Andres grimaced; this was going to be rough.

"N-nada…just…" he sighed, now was just as good a time as any. "…I was going to wait until we were out…but since I can't and you'll probably get mad if your outfit doesn't match" he chuckled lightly and pulled a rolled up black silk cloth out of his pocket. He offered it to Flavio and the Italian took it carefully. "…a gift..?"

"Open it already; I wanna see the look of your face when you do..." Andres's voice was flat (wow, I've said that a million times) but a smile threatened his features, tugging at the edges of his lips. Flavio nodded, still entranced by the cloth as he began to slowly unravel it.

A beautiful pendant shown bright even in the dank lighting of the room through curtained windows in the peak of day. Flavio looked up at him to make sure he was serious. It felt heavy as hell and held a ruby adorned by different cut diamonds, all in lovely silver. He noticed a latch on the side and opened it. Out came a ring. He froze and slowly examined the ring.

The material was stark black. The red ruby sat nuzzled nicely in the glass like darkness of the ring itself. He started to slip it on his index finger and he suddenly had the Spaniards hands encase his own. He looked up and Andres slightly shook his head and took the hand holding the ring and moved it to over Flavio's left ring finger.

His heart stopped. He looked up at Andres, who still had a hold on his wrists. "…..it took forever to shape the obsidian into your ring size….and then encrust the ruby…the pendant was made to kill time while the ring cooled…so….sorry it took a bit…" he kept his intense gaze focused on his lovers pink orbs.

Flavio nodded wordlessly. Andres wanted to finally marry him. But why? They've never been for the usual love stuff, as far as making their relationship permanent in the eyes of the law seemed very unneeded but deep down, Flavio had always wanted a nice wedding. Not huge but moderate size, most likely in a ballroom setting. But then he fell in love with Andres. And Andres wouldn't be caught dead looking like he gave a shit to anyone but his brother and lover.

But now…he looked into the Spaniards eyes that held a beckoning him to slide the ring on, to say yes. He carefully slid the ring in and put the pendant over his neck. "…yes." He smiled "Now, no more looking at me until I fix myself. Go be sexy elsewhere and I'll come down when I'm ready~"

Andres smirked "…I have time for a nice loooong nap then." He said playfully before walking out. When he left the room, Flavio allowed himself a victory dance. Then he started to prepare for their date, looking at the ring often.