A/N: The word 'cute' has lost all meaning. Dark, angsty, and kinda creepy.

WARNING: If you don't like yaoi...well, then you really shouldn't be watching Hetalia, honestly. But yeah, yaoi, Pedo!Spain, Shota, and religious themes (kinda. author is agnostic). Rating is T+/M so BE WARNED!

Spain-Shota
SpainXChibi!Romano

Spain loved cute things.

He remembered the days of power; the rising Empire that would never fall. He remembered being utterly surrounded by glory, gold, and God. Splattered with the blood of enemies and savages, swimming in their glorious gold. He took and took and left nothing. Nothing would remain for these natives, beasts with a human form. But...

Little México. A little girl with big dark eyes, dark hair, and dark skin. Staring up at him so fearfully, trembling, sobbing over her fallen mother at he towered over her, Mama Aztec's blood staining his clothes and axe. He smiled.

So cute.

And that cute little child was his now.

All his.

Spain's. Property of España.Oh. How many other cute children could he acquire? A big happy family, full of cute little children, worshiping his divine God. The very thought sent thrills tingling in his body. He giggled happily and took tiny México by the arm and dragged her away from Miss Mama Aztec. She screamed at him. He frowned.

That wasn't cute. He wanted her to be cute again. He hit her. And hit her some more. And again and again. She was quiet now, sniffling in pain and terror. He smiled dopily and swung her up, cradling her to his chest with one arm. "Que lindo" he cooed into her hair.

He hunted for more, and found his 'family'. Cute little Argentina, sweet young boy who stared up at him so seriously. Darling Philippines, who could never bear to look at him for some reason. Venezuela, Colombia, Bolivia, Paraguay, Uruguay...such New World cuties.

But they were flawed.

So, so flawed. They screamed and yelled and fussed and fought back. He saw his amigos with their little colonies. Francis with his cute little Canada, who clung to his pant leg and whispered for Papa Francis. Prussia, dragging his baby brother into battle, laughing together.

His colonies weren't like that. They cursed him, screamed at him, ran around behind his back to their savage customs and people and scorned his- scorned God by practicing their former heathen. He cursed them and beat them back to God. Some of them conformed, some of them didn't learn and fought, some of them hid away among their people.

Spain gave up, but stared at his friends cute, little colonies and his body ached.

His Austrian husband, a husband that obviously lusted after his Hungarian maid, captured a new territory. Little Italy. Spain had not met young Italy, but had heard of him. Small, a little clumsy, with a angelic voice and a passion for pasta and art.

He sounded absolutely adorable.

Austria called him one day, and bequeathed him a new chunk of land.

Southern Italy, the slightly older brother of Austria's young Italy. Spain was delighted and raced home to his new henchman, body burning with strange fire at the image of a sweet boy in white that was seared into his mind.

What he found...was not what he was expecting.

Loud. Rude. Messy. Lazy.

A most undesirable henchman. Spain pouted as he cleaned the house for little Romano. So uncute.

So very, very uncute. Really.

So what if little Roma's pale skin and cherubic face was a mirror of one of God's beloved servants? Dark auburn hair that made his fiery eyes smolder, clothed in angelic white, head topped with a little white hat...

No, Spain told himself. Romano wasn't cute. The warmth he felt in his chest when he stared as his little colony's pouty face didn't mean anything, because he wasn't cute. The ache to scoop the little land into his arms and squeeze was just-just something that he needed to ensure that that land was still his. Not because he was cute.

He absolutely didn't bite his bottom lip to suppress a moan when he caught darling little Roma in his room, gripping a rosary and praising the Lord. His breath didn't quicken and his cheeks didn't flush when his saw what a messy eater innocent Roma was, tomato juice dripping down his chin and coating his plump lips with red shine. He didn't silently growl and simmer with an unholy wrath when Francis, his best friend, smiled devilishly at Roma, who in turn blushed and stammered and cursed at the French nation.

You are a superior nation, Spain told himself. You are pure. You are supreme. You are a Holy land.

Envy was wrong. Wrath was wrong. Lust was forbidden.

Roma wasn't cute. Uncute, uncute, uncute-uncute-uncute-uncute-cutecutecute-

Sheets twisted and the body they rested on thrashed and squirmed as sinful images of a dark haired young colony danced in his mind, that pale little body pressed so close to his, little mouth pressing innocent boy kisses to his bare chest, tiny hands pressing against his skin.

Spain arched and moaned, rough hands helping his needy body stain his bed with sin as he pictured his little boy.

Oh little Lovino, darling Lovino, mí querido Romano.

Why must you be so cute?

A/N: Yup. Not what I usually write, but here it is. Review?