Special thanks to otakugirl96 for the prompts :3

"Juan, please be reasonable…"

Mexico crossed his arms with a snort. "The bastard deserves it," he grumbled. "Papá, what do you even see in this guy? He's nothing but a loudmouthed brat who doesn't even appreciate the things you do for him!"

Spain sighed. "Juanito, don't say those kinds of things. Lovi does appreciate me, even if he doesn't show it. Besides," he looked at the boy sternly, "you went too far this time." He turned to Romano, who was bent over the bathroom sink, and said in a gentler tone, "How are you doing, Lovi? Is it coming out?"

Romano groaned as he adjusted the cold pack against his swollen cheek. Blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin. Mexico had knocked out one of his teeth and another was threatening to fall out. Slowly, he worked the dangling tooth to its original position. Pain shot through his lower jaw as he pushed it back into the socket, causing him to wince and Spain to pat his shoulder reassuringly. Damn it all…

It wasn't that Romano was very worried about his injuries—the swelling would go down in a few hours and his tooth would be secure by morning. He was a bit annoyed that he'd lost the other one somewhere in the front lawn, but a replacement would fill the gap in a few weeks. No, Romano wasn't upset about his dental trauma. Rather, he just felt pissed. Pissed that this obnoxious little twerp had shown up without an invitation, jumped all over Spain like some disgusting little lovestruck puppy, and even dared to punch him in the face—the nerve of that little monello! He caught a glance of said twerp in the mirror as he filled a cup with tap water. Angry brown eyes glowered at him contemptuously. He ignored them and carefully poured water into his mouth, rinsing as gently as he could while keeping his tooth in place. He spat into the sink; behind him, red streaks smeared across the porcelain. Romano swore as the revolting metallic taste filled his mouth. When this was over he would make that scum wish he'd never been born.

Mecixo huffed. "It's not fair! Why do you side with him all the time?"

"Juan…"

"Every time we talk to each other, it's always about him! Romano got you a Christmas present! Romano kissed you on Valentine's Day! Romano this! Romano that! I—I'm sick of it!"

"Juan—"

"You just don't get it! Don't you see how he ties you down? I-if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't even be in this horrendous state—"

The rest of his sentence ended in a small gasp—Spain had whirled around and fixed him with a hard glare. "Juan," he said, and Mexico flinched at the edge in his voice, "having a child is the best thing that could ever happen to me. I don't mind if you think otherwise, but kindly do not insult me or Lovi by referring to my being pregnant as a 'horrendous state.' It's my own decision to have the baby and I expect you to respect that."

Mexico's eyes dropped to the floor. He fell silent under the Spaniard's cold gaze. When he spoke again, his anger had dissolved, replaced by a sort of dead solemnity. "I'm always second-rate, aren't I?" he said softly, then spun on his heel and ran off.

"Juan!" Spain started after him, but remembered the injured Italian. He turned. "Lovi—!" Romano groaned and waved him away. Whatever. Just go. Spain gave his shoulder a grateful squeeze and hurried off. He heard the front door slam as he rounded the corner. "Juan, wait!" But Mexico had already gone. He threw on a jacket and sped outside, but already there was no sign of the boy. A sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he ducked and threw up behind the neighbor's hedges. As he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and leaned against Romano's car, already spent from his quick dash out of the house, he saw a dark-haired boy in a poncho slowly make his way down the street. "Ah! It's—!"

"Damn him," Peru muttered. "How dare he leave me in the lurch like that!" If he'd had his choice, he wouldn't even have come here early. But no, that stupid Mexico had to come running to him begging for a traveling companion. Ecuador and Chile had refused, Brazil didn't give a shit about that "crazy pedo man," and Colombia had taken one look at Mexico's pitiful groveling and burst out laughing. And so, Peru, being the good cousin he was, had to swoop in and 'rescue' that boludo from certain depression. He wished Argentina had come too. Everything was better when Argentina was around.

But the moment they'd set foot in the Madrid-Barajas Airport, Mexico'd taken off like a frightened llama and left Peru to fend for himself in this environment of scary pale people who spoke in a weird dialect and looked at him like he was something nasty they'd stepped in. Bah. If Capac were here he'd spit in every one of their faces. Because Capac was awesome like that. He sighed. Stupid airline people, not letting a cute little llama on the plane…

He figured his idiot cousin had run off to Spain's house, and as soon as he'd checked into his hotel he'd rushed here to find him. Seriously, why was Mexico so troublesome? He was practically a grown-up already! People who didn't know them saw a round-faced twelve-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old with messy black hair, but when they spoke to them, it was the twelve-year-old who replied politely and the fifteen-year-old who made weird faces at strangers and tried to hide behind taller people. The only person Mexico ever acted mature around was America, and that was because the two hated each other's guts. Peru swore. With that kind of a stupid primo, it was no wonder people looked at him strangely all the time.

As he approached the house he saw someone staggering towards him. Despite himself, he grinned. "Spain!" He might not be as clingy as a certain other idiot, but that didn't stop him from liking his former foster parent. His happiness, however, was quickly replaced with worry when he saw the Spaniard's unsteady gait. "Spain! Are you okay?"

Spain greeted him with a wan smile. "Hola, Huayna," he said. "I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy, that's all. Did you come here early too?"

Peru nodded. "Juan made me," he grumbled.

"I see…" Spain seemed to have a faraway look in his eyes. "Juan…"

"Did something happen?"

"Eh?" Sometimes Spain forgot about Peru's uncanny intuition. "W-well… There was me and him and Lovi in the house, and you know how those two get… and I said something that upset him and he ran out of the house." He buried his face in his hands. "Oh my gosh… Why did I even do that…? I don't know what came over me…"

"Let's go look for him."

"Yeah…" Spain looked at him. "Actually, I'll go look for him myself, if you don't mind, Huayna. I think he might understand better if he knew I went to find him of my own accord… Besides, I'm worried about Lovi. Juan punched him in the jaw and knocked out one of his teeth."

Peru sighed. Typical impulsive Mexico. "All right," he said, "but please be careful."

Spain flashed him a thumbs-up. "'Careful' is my middle name."

As they parted ways, Peru couldn't help but worry. "No it isn't," he mumbled, once Spain was out of earshot. "That's 'Fernandez.'"

Mexico dashed across the road, ignoring the honks and angry yells of drivers who'd had to swerve out of his way. How many of these streets had he crossed? He didn't remember. All he'd been concerned with was getting as far away as possible. He ducked into an alley and slumped against a Dumpster to catch his breath. Here, the noises of traffic were dulled by the surrounding buildings, and what little light reached in gathered in an orange pool by his feet. He stumbled further into the alley, panting softly. Tears filled his eyes as the memory of his dispute with Spain flooded his mind.

Why didn't Papá understand? Romano was nothing but a big, fat, stupid, uncouth ingrate! He remembered the first time Spain had brought him to the Old World to meet that stupid Italian. Upon seeing him, Romano had shot him a hate-filled glare and tried to steal back all of Spain's attention. What the hell was his problem? Spain was his Papá, for God's sakes! What right did the stupid Italian have to snatch him away? But when he pointed this out, Spain just smiled and patted his head. And Romano glared at him while clinging to the Spaniard.

He should've known right away that he would never be as coveted as that filthy bastard. Why would he? Romano was white, and European, and lived close to Spain. He was a lowly indio, an ocean apart from Spain, and nothing more than a hindrance in the eyes of his Papá's society. He would never draw, or sing, or paint as well as Romano. He would never smell tomatoes and spices, only the pungent llamas and gritty cornbread of his land. He would never be first. Romano had him beat in every category he could possibly beat Mexico in.

Even now, when he was just voicing his concern for Spain, his Papá had dumped him for Romano. Always Romano. Urgh! He pounded the wall in his fury, his body heaving with sobs. He was nothing after all. Just a naïve little kid Spain turned to whenever he got tired of Romano's tsundere tendencies. He'd been worthless from the start.

A sudden voice made his heart jump and his blood turn to ice. "My, my," said a snide, nasal male voice, and Mexico was yanked back roughly by his shirt collar, "what 'ave we here? A lost child?" A chorus of laughter. "Well boys, let's teach 'im to never stumble into our territ'ry again, eh?" Several men voiced their agreement. "You'll be goin' home in a matchbox by the time we're through wit' you, kid!"

As the first fist came in contact with his face, Mexico squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the world to end.

Peru quietly slipped into Spain's house and padded noiselessly to the bathroom. Except for the clock ticking, the house was eerily silent, which only exacerbated his compulsion to remain quiet. He found the bathroom door ajar and the Italian still bent over the sink, moaning in pain. "S-Señor Romano?" he said softly.

Romano jumped and whirled around, looking around frantically. His eyes fell on Peru. For a second, his brow knotted in confusion, but then he relaxed and raised a palm in greeting. Unlike that loudmouth Mexico, Peru was a sophisticated, respectable boy, even if he did smell faintly of goats. "Wheresh Shpain?" he asked, wincing at the sound of his own lisping.

"He went to find Juan," Peru replied.

"Wh-what?" Romano sputtered. Flecks of spit and blood went flying. Peru grimaced and wiped his face. "Shorry." Romano covered a wad of gauze over his loose tooth and the bloody socket. "H-he can't go outthide like thith! What if…" He trailed off.

Peru raised an eyebrow. "Why? What happened to Spain?"

Romano stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. How would the boy react? He didn't want another gap in his teeth to complement the first one… Still, it couldn't be helped. "He'th pregnant," he said quickly, bracing himself for whatever came next.

Peru's eyes widened. Then he smiled warmly and said, "Congratulations."

Romano blushed.

"Damn, if I'd known I wouldn't've let him run off on his own…" A troubled look crossed his face. "I'm sorry, Señor Romano."

If it were anyone but Peru, Romano might've chewed them out for doing such a stupid thing. But there was mutual respect between him and that mysterious descendant of the Incan Empire, and on top of that Romano didn't really feel like showcasing his terrible speech by yelling at someone. So he forced a reassuring smile and said, "Ith fine."

Peru sighed worriedly. "I pray they will return safely…"

Stupid Juan makes me grit my teeth in annoyance, because he is starting to grow on me like a parasite and I'm not throwing him in the garbage bin after all. Sometime in the near future he is scheduled to pull a Cleveland and move out to his own fic. And Peru too.

Peru: I lost three hours of valuable sleep just to take that stupid flight with him. Maybe it's his fault I never grow taller.

Me: Now, now, don't go Inca on him...

Peru: Why not?