As he invited the two inside, Antonio could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Romano was there, only a few feet away from him. He was close enough to touch, the eager Spaniard had noticed. A warm feeling spread throughout the base of his stomach, eventually reaching the man's face, and causing a faint blush. The epitome of his idea of perfection was right before him, yet all Antonio could do was follow his friend and former henchman into the living room.

No! I can't act shocked right now; I have to play it cool! If I were to be all giggling or silent or GOD FORBID if I were to behave like a school girl, Roma will surely think that I'm stupid or something. And I REALLY don't want my crush- I mean beloved- I mean... WHATEVER! I just don't want him to see me in such a state of shock, so I should play it cool~!

While absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't notice the expectant looks that his guests were giving him—mostly because he could be as oblivious as America—until Francis let out an awkward cough. Slightly flustered, the Spanish nation managed to give both of them a dazzling smile, all the while trying his best not to stare at Romano for too long.

"Ah, sorry about that~! So, would you two like some wine?" he asked, although his eyes seemed to aimlessly wander about the room. Francis acknowledged the inner turmoil his friend was experiencing and smirked, pleased with himself. This is going to be fun~! But when his eyes wandered in Romano's direction, the Frenchman's grin grew even wider, if such thing were a possibility. Scratch that; this is going to be divertissant~!

The Italian noticed the other man's perverted rape face and made haste in throwing the nearest magazine in his direction, smacking right into his target's shoulder with strong force.

"What the hell, bastard! Stop looking at me like that, it's like your undressing me with your eyes!" the young man barked, eyeing Francis with murderous intentions. Said person narrowed his eyes, the let another smile reach his lips. Looking around, he scooted closer towards Romano, earning a disgusted expression from him. Seeing that Antonio wasn't present—probably fetching the wine, he guessed—the Frenchman leaned closer towards Romano.

"You are nervous, oui? Aw, you are so cute, mon ami Italien~" he cooed, and Romano turned scarlet the second he heard it. Sputtering expletives and curses in Italian and English under his breath, the younger man's head was seemed to fume smoke, which only encouraged Francis' laughter.

"Hey guys~! What's so funny?" Antonio asked as he walked into the living room, three wine glasses balancing perfectly on a tray. Romano straightened up, fighting back the urge to run and hide like his Italian blood was compelling him to do. It was the first time he was looking at his former caretaker in the full light, and even though he would never admit it, he liked what he saw.

The Spaniard still had that same bronze skin that Romano had always admired; his olive skin could never shine in the sunlight like Antonio's did. The man was also taller, broader and TEN TIMES MORE GODDAMN HANDSOME than the Italian had remembered. Especially his eyes—oh DIO his eyes—which were staring intently at him earlier in the meeting. The bright and cheery green that Romano had familiarized himself with during childhood still hadn't left Antonio's orbs, and under their gaze, he felt like he was melting away. All this was racing through the Italian nation's head as a glass of fine wine was placed in front of him, and Romano raised his eyes to meet the Spaniard's. Both realizing the electricity and heat sent throughout their ogling at each other, the two quickly looked the other way, flushing instantly.

And yet, for Antonio, it was a sweet but fleeting moment of happiness. He had taken in the expression of Romano's face, enchanted by the flecks of gold and green that shone in those brown-rimmed eyes. Noticing the extreme blush his love was sporting, it only made the Spaniard follow in suit, never wanting to change his view. But alas, that moment ended when a shock struck throughout his body, which made him shiver and end their semi-intimate period.

Francis couldn't help but snicker, finding their sexual tension amusing to no end; he could practically taste the air of their discomfort.

"S-So, Romano, it's been awhile since I've seen you… A-Ah, and I heard that you're already a country now! So, um, congratulations, even if it is a bit late," then he added with a smile as he recovered, "Ah, you're so grown up now, aren't you~? My little Roma must have so many responsibilities now~" Antonio's cooing annoyed the Italian, and he quickly punched the older man in the shoulder with full extortion.

"B-Bastard! Of course I've been busy; after all, even if I'm half of a nation, it's still something!" he yelled in response, hearing a soft chuckling coming from the two other men in the room.

"Ohohohon~! This must be a touchy subject for Romano, non?"

"Ah, you look like a tomato, Roma~!"

Upon hearing the phrase he hadn't heard in nearly a century, Romano flushed even more 'like a tomato'. However, another part of him died inside—if only a little—when an abrupt thought interrupted his thoughts.

Does the tomato bastard still think of me as a kid?

After wiping tears from their eyes, Francis and Antonio watched as Romano violently shook with anger. Lightly patting him on the back—all the while enjoying himself far too much just from the touch—the Spanish nation tried to ease the angered Italian out of his rage.

"Calm down Romano, it was a joke~! Anyways, I'd love it if you would visit me more; it makes Boss so much happier~!" he urged, trying very hard to sound like his senseless self, all the while meaning every word he said. Believing that Antonio was just talking upon his usual and oblivious nature, Romano didn't bother thinking that the words were full of eager and kind love. He blushed a bit, trying to control his facial expression [but failing and only managed a scowl].

"Idiota! Like hell you're my boss! A-And, if I want to visit you then I will damn visit you, got that?" For awhile Antonio made a sad face, catching Romano off guard, and then his usual smile returned.

"Si! And if you're too shy to come to me, mi tomate, then I'll find you~!" the Spaniard proclaimed in a singsong voice, not realizing how utterly embarrassing his words were. Romano's breathing stopped short and realization hit him harder than that one hailstorm he experienced while visiting Russia's home.

"B-B-Bastardo! That's what you are! A creepy, clingy bastard!" he shouted, only to receive immense laughter from the other party. Seeing that it was him to step out and let the 'magic' happen, Francis stood up and walked towards the exit.

"Well, mon ami, I'd love to stay and chat, but I must say adieu for now~!" He waved goodbye, leaving to the men in each other's company. I hope this works out like I planned it would, he prayed, grimacing at the thought of a nasty outcome. And away the Frenchman went.

For awhile there was a deafening silence, and Romano hoped that Antonio couldn't hear his hammering heartbeat against the man's ribcage, but the Spaniard broke the quiet air.

"So Roma, how has it been at your house? Is Feli annoying you as much as he used to? Ah, how is Feli~?" Talking non-stop, he tried to fill in the deathly calm atmosphere while throwing in a few questioned he wished to ask. Romano, getting irritated by the minute, twitched with annoyance and deftly threw a pillow in his face. With cheeks overheating with an immense flaming sensation, the Italian finally began to speak.

"Geez, tomato bastard, you're the same as always with your endless talking and shit! A-And dammit, I'm hungry, so stop blabbing and make me food!" he hastily wined, trying to mask the uneasiness caught in his throat by raising the volume. Antonio smiled, enjoying the sound of the raged man's melodic voice and lightly accented English, complying with his guest's wishes.

"Of course, Roma~! Would you like some Valencian paella?" he asked, curious on what his ex-charge's tastes would be like and if they had changed at all. The Italian just grunted in response, so his host took that as a 'yes'.

"Alrighty then, and perhaps I'll make some Tortas de Aceite for desert if you're still hungry!" Romano perked up the minute her heard of the Seivillian pastry, his mouth involuntary twitching just a bit in the corners. It had been so long since he had relished the taste of the olive-oiled sweet biscuit melting in his mouth from one bite, and thinking of such things brought him back to memories of his childhood. And in that picture I imagine in my head, Spain is always there, waiting for me…

The man winced in remorse as he tried to rid his mind of the visualizations, all the while, he took little notice to the Spanish nation watching him with fascinated eyes. Did Roma smile just then? Antonio wondered as he made his way towards the kitchen at a quick pace, rushing for the sake of the famished and cranky Italian sitting in his living room. As he was adding the rice to the boiled broth for the paella, he heard the sound of soft humming coming from the direction his guest was supposed to be positioned in.

Curiously, Antonio peeked through the archway that connected the two rooms, and was stunned to find the cutest sight he had seen in years.

Swaying gently in a brown padded rocking/reclining chair was Romano, closing his eyes so that a peaceful expression graced his handsome features. He was listening to music through tomato-decorated earbuds, and singing along with some of the songs. Knowing that the volume was set on super high [for he could hear it all the way from his location, which was quite a stretch], the Spaniard crept closer, his eyes never leaving Romano's face.

The man who had once been able to fit on Antonio's lap without slipping off the least had grown so much! Though he wasn't large in the weight department per say, his arms and legs were long—if not beautifully toned yet olive coloured— and he had curves, but not in a feminine way. No, if words could describe Romano's appearance, it would be quite complicated; for he had a handsome if not sharp face, but a lean and slender body. He wasn't tall either, and the Spaniard wagered that he had a few significant inches off of the Italian, although he knew also that Romano had quite the height complex. Sitting in a dreamlike state, Antonio continued to stare adoringly at the murmuring man, holding himself back when it came to his deepest desires wishing to make him… touch Romano.

No, not in a perverted way… well, at least not all the time. The man just longed to stroke the younger's cheek; to trail his calloused but gentle tanned fingers along what he assumed was soft skin. Antonio's breath went rigid as he realized what horrors he was unleashing upon himself by sneaking up on the exposed and preoccupied Italian. To be so close to Romano without giving him as MUCH intimacy as he wished to was pure torture, so to speak. With as much stealth as he had possessed, the Spanish nation inched away from the humming man and with one last look over his shoulder, left to finish dinner.

Romano awoke to the smell of rosemary and saffron wafting its way into the living room and blessing his senses with the familiarity of food. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly, and the Italian personification felt his cheeks blaze. Chuckling a bit, Antonio walked into the area with two plates of Valencian paella, which made Romano's mouth water without his consent, and two glasses of—you guessed it—tomato juice. He later returned with a large platter that had several Tortas de Aceite layered on top of each other in a neat fashion. Setting all the dishes and glasses on the coffee table, Antonio smiled widely as he watched Romano cautiously take a bite out of the main course.

"¿Cómo sabe?" the Spaniard asked with hopeful eyes, making the Italian blush madly.

"E-Eh, va bene, bastardo," came his reply, and the younger man hoped that his former caretaker didn't notice the intense heat he happened to be radiating. Because no matter how many years or centuries Antonio cooked for Romano, it was always going to be fucking delicious. And special, because it was made for Romano and Romano only, which he quite liked the idea of.

The Spanish nation beamed proudly, memorizing the cute expression his former colony wore when he ate his meal, and then proceeded to turning on the television. Nothing was playing except for another telenovela—a new one, Antonio had noticed—and he didn't think that the grumpy Italian would have wanted to watch romantic soap operas with him. But what shocked the man further was that the other nation's eyes wouldn't leave the damn screen! Romano's gaze never tore away from the drama enveloping in the plot, and the total cliffhangers before commercial breaks that caused him to swear under his breath. It was just so… so… so…

"CUTEE~~!" the Spaniard squealed before propping himself next to the startled man and squeezing him in a tight embrace. The suffocated Italian groaned and shouted and clawed in response, but Antonio refused to let him go. After awhile, the air grew stiff and tense as the two nations looked into each other's eyes; the Spaniard still had a hold on the other, and could feel his thin frame clenched in his grasp. Oh the things I could do… Ugh, estoy volviendome loco!

"Lemme go, stronzo! You're going to fucking crush me with your freakish strength, idiota!" Romano's protesting snapped Antonio out of his trance as he looked to face a very red faced and irritated Italian nation. Practically springing from his spot on the floor, he helped the younger man up and quickly checked for bruises or blemishes, which involved rolling Romano's sleeves and un-buttoning his shirt, apparently.

"Lo siento, Roma, lo siento! I-I… Who could blame me? You were soooo cute~!" Antonio chimed, and then noticed a stain on the Italian's fashionable clothes. Said Italian regarded the stain with a 'tsk' sound.

"Yeah, that? The fuck-faced frog-of-a-bastard that you call a friend spilt some whine on me while we were chatting at my house, so I hit the figlio di putta as a thank you," Romano stated icily, narrowing his eyes in thin slits when he remembered how expensive the suit was. I'll get you back for this even more, you French motherfu-

"Why don't you stay overnight?" the Spanish nation blurted out of the blue, catching Romano off guard. He didn't know if it was his mood, his laziness, or his gratitude that compelled him to sleepover, but he figured that it had something to do with the pleading demeanor of his ex-boss. Giving a deep and seemingly melancholic [although actually ecstatic] sigh, the Italian nodded his head in exasperation.

Antonio's heart practically did cartwheels when Romano accepted his request, and he could feel a warm and nerve-wracking feeling spreading throughout the base of his stomach, causing him to flush red. It's that feeling again…

Trying to brush it off, the Spaniard grasped the younger man's hand in anticipation and led him to the bathroom, not even bothering to be more aware of his actions. Turning on the hot bath water to run, he gestured to the tub.

"You should take a bath for now, Roma. I'll leave a change of clothes out for you soon, I just have to clean up the dishes and such~!" the older man said, and then left the room, images of Romano taking a bath without clothes on plaguing his mind.

When he was rummaging through his clothes to find something suitable for the Italian to wear, he heard footsteps as the younger nation approached him. With only a towel on, as the Spaniard had noticed to his mortifying delight.

Well, what was he expected to do? Antonio was taking too long to find his clothes, and if he waited all day he would surely catch a cold! So the man walked up to the awestruck Spanish nation, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him out the bedroom, closing the door shut. Romano returned with loosely fitted baggy sweatpants on. ONLY.

That left his bare chest for Antonio to eye hungrily, forlorn lust glazing his green orbs as wild fantasies re-invented themselves in his mind.

There were a few things the Spanish nation had learnt about Romano that night. One of them was that the younger man was more muscular than he had realized, as his eyes slowly traced the strong contours of the other nation's bare arms and back. The second was that his cherished ex-henchman no longer liked to cuddle with his Spanish boss, as this was clearly evident when he head butted the older man for even mentioning the idea of the two sleeping in the same bed.

Whining in defeat, Antonio gave a quick goodnight kiss to Romano on the cheek—which in totally honesty he was nervous as hell to do—and was rewarded when the Italian didn't kick or hit him, but flushed in embarrassment as he trudged to the guestroom. Smirking at the feeling of being triumphant, the Spaniard drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

But not long afterwards, he was awakened to find hazel eyes staring intently at his face, from such a close range…

And being half-asleep and whatnot, Antonio did the most plausible [but not most recommended] thing in the situation, and acted upon his first thoughts.

Which included closing the gap and meeting his lips to a pair of soft ones, and his muscular tan arms fondled the figure above him, and it was THEN that he realized who this person was.

None other than the lovely, solitary Italian nation that Antonio had been lusting after for nearly a century.

With all that sexual tension and whatnot, I'm surprised I hadn't made them jump each other earlier OwO Buuut whatever, I have to keep them in character SOMETIMES, right~?

Ah, it has occurred to me that the way I write when doing the narrative part is confusing, and I agree that it IS confusing, so I shall make a few things clear: I will refer to Lovino/Romano.. whatever.. as Romano from now on [only in narrative though] which means that in the narrative parts all the personification will be regarded according to country name. Starting now... because I'm too lazy to change previous chapters. ALSO, I believe that only countries that are close friends and/or lovers with the other call each other by their human names [EX; Antonio calls France Francis, Francis calls Prussia Gilbert, etc.]

... Are you following my logic so far? ... hope so...

AND I would like to thank those that favourited/commented/added to alerts and shiz like that, and the only reason I don't directly reply is because... I TRULY am shy =v= oh but i love you all and you people know who you are 3

... umm.. is the story going too slow? If that causes frustration or something I apologize but I can assure you that the main plot is just around the corner... but first THERE MUST BE MORE FLUFF AND/OR NECESSARY SEXUAL TENSION xD

... that is all oh geez this is a long author's note...