A/N: Spain is my favorite character so I'm not surprised that his chapter is the longest I've written so far. I love him. Please enjoy the chapter~

I should probably also mention that Charity means not just simply giving away money, but unlimited, loving kindness. So that should make the chapter easier to understand :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Just this story.

Twisted Angels:

Spain

Charity

"Two of the usual for us and I'll cover the tab for the ladies at the end of the bar."

The bartender grinned, displaying a neat row of yellowed teeth. "You got it, Antonio. Those are some lucky women." He said before moving away to get the drinks.

"Spain, you idiot." Romano hissed angrily after the man had left, "What the fuck was that for?"

Spain smiled and shrugged. "It seemed like a nice thing to do. And look how happy they are." The two women had received their drinks along with the information regarding their bill. They both turned to Spain and Romano, sultry grins sliding into place.

"Who gives a fuck about their happiness?" Romano snapped. "Shit, they're coming over here. Damn you Spain."

"Thanks for the drinks boys." One of the women said. She twirled a strand of copper colored hair around a perfectly manicured finger. "Are you looking for a little company tonight?"

Spain opened his mouth, but Romano got there first.

"No, but I am looking for a way to get you two out of my fucking face." He sneered. Next to him Spain groaned, slumping over in embarrassment.

"Please don't do this tonight, Romano." He said softly.

"Excuse me?" The red head drew out the words to an annoying length, her and her blond companion looking equally offended.

Usually it was the men that approached them in situations such as this that infuriated Romano the most, but it was something about these women that rubbed him the wrong way. Too much leather and lipstick.

"Did I stutter? I think not. Now fuck off." With a huff, both women spun on their heels, the blond turning back long enough to flash her middle finger. Romano returned the gesture with gusto.

Spain sighed as the women chose the table farthest from the bar. "Why'd you have to go and do that Romano? All they wanted was a little company. Would it have been that horrible to talk to them?"

"They didn't just want to talk you idiot. I don't know why I even let you bring me to out to this place. It would have been so much easier to stay home." Head in hands, Romano sulked angrily, refusing to meet Spain's gaze.

"Aw Romano," Spain cooed, "You know how cute you are when you're angry. My sweet little tomato—"

"Shut up you bastard!" Romano screeched, swatting away the fingers that were poised to pinch his face. "And don't touch me!" But before his fist could fly, the bartender finally arrived with the drinks, which settled Romano down considerably.

"I just don't understand why you have to be so nice to everyone all the time." He said, eyes fixed on the glass in hand. And even with all the shit I give you, all you ever do is smile…

Spain lowered his glass and thought for a second. Then he smiled that ridiculous smile that made Romano want to simultaneously punch him in the face and kiss him until they were both gasping for breath.

"If you're nice to people," Spain said finally, "they'll be nice to you in return."

Romano snorted, taking a sip of his drink. "That sounds like something you'd read off a fortune cookie."

"Really?" Spain's face lit up happily, "Because I just made that up now."

Romano groaned and started to fling back an insult but was stopped by an audible grunt from directly behind him. Irritated that he had been interrupted, he turned to the source of the noise, ready to release a verbal onslaught, but the curses died on his lips when he saw the large, muscled man glaring down at him, flanked by two equally intimidating men.

"You boys are in our seats." The lead man sneered. "And I suggest you move."

Romano smirked, overconfident that Spain's presence ensured his safety. "I don't see shithead written on them so maybe you should look somewhere else." He barely held back a shriek as the man who seemed to be the leader of the group grabbed him by the front of his shirt and lifted him cleanly off the bar stool.

"You little fucker." The man hissed. "Say that again and I'll smash in that pretty face of yours."

Spain was on his feet in an instant, palms raised in a sign of peace. "No need to get physical guys. If you want the seats they're yours."

Ceasing his struggle to remove himself from the man's grip, Romano turned angrily to Spain, his face bright red.

"What the fuck? You can't just give in like that!" He gasped as the man released him, dropping to the floor with a loud thud.

"Listen to your boyfriend, shithead. Now move the fuck along." The lead man said before pushing his way through to occupy the bar stool. His companions followed suit.

Spain leaned over to offer a hand to Romano, who still lay on the floor, nursing his pride and searching for any visible bruising. "It's no big deal. There are empty tables in the back."

"Screw you, asshole!" Romano stood up angrily, ignoring the outstretched hand. He stomped towards the door, slamming it shut loud enough behind him that the other occupants of the bar—who had purposely avoided involving themselves in the confrontation—winced.

Spain sighed and reached into his pants pocket to fumble for his wallet. For once he wished he could enjoy a drama free night.

"Hey Jack, you take credit cards right? I don't have any cash on me tonight." He said after an unsuccessful search for paper bills.

"For you? Of course." The bartender took the card, pausing on his way to the register to grudgingly take the orders of the men who had occupied Spain and Romano's seats.

The one who had threatened Romano stood up after he had ordered, shooting Spain a smug looking before heading towards the bathroom.

Spain counted to 10 before turning to the bartender. "Hold on with that receipt. I'll be right back."

The man was washing his hands when Spain stepped quietly into the bathroom. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror—his confused, Spain's dark—before the man's head connected with the glass. Sputtering from shock and pain he barely had a chance to scream before his face met the glass again. The man's brain faintly registered the feeling of his hair being fiercely yanked back before his face smashed into the mirror for a third time. Releasing his grip, Spain let the man fall to the floor. There were pieces of glass coating and embedded in the man's face and it was difficult to tell which wound was dripping with the most blood.

And that was only the most obvious of the damage.

His face a mask of calm, Spain slowly reached out and even through the haze of blood and pain, the man still flinched. But Spain only smoothed out the collar of the now bloodstained shirt before saying stoically, "You should be more loving to people." He stood, leaving the man to bleed on the floor, retrieved his card and receipt from the bartender and stepped outside into the cool evening, not surprised to find Romano sitting on a nearby bench.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Romano leaped up from his seat. "Do you know how tiring it is to wait?"

Spain gave him a sheepish grin, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide the bloodstains. "Sorry Romano. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Fuck you." Romano snarled. "Let's go home."

He's so cute when he's angry, Spain thought happily as they started walking on the street that would take them home. He paused as he noticed an obviously homeless man out of the corner of his eye, dirty hands holding a cardboard sign that simply said: Please help.

Ignoring Romano's angry protests, Spain pulled out of his pocket five wrinkled 20's that somehow he hadn't noticed before and dropped them into the shallow box of coins at the man's feet.

The beggar gasped at the amount and looked up at Spain with grateful eyes. "Thank you so much sir."

Spain smiled widely. "It's no problem at all."

A/N: As usual, let me know what you guys think. Feedback is always loved. Temperance is next~

with love

-dancer