Romano froze as the man below him pressed their bodies together, resulting in the smaller nation on top of the latter. How had this happened?

Well, Romano had been yearning for the touch of his former caretaker the entire dinner, and the surprise hug didn't make things any better. After some internal debate, the Italian sneaked into Spain's room and contently watched the man sleep, his breaths even and slow. He reached out to stroke the brunet man's curly hair, feeling the soft tufts of his bangs. Romano felt as if he could watch his secret love sleep forever, and yet his darkest wishes compelled him to take advantage of the slumbering man. What harm could it do? the voices in his mind would ask, snickering in delight as the Italian nation flustered from the images he had conjured.

And then Spain's eyes cracked open, revealing their beautiful emerald colour, and Romano froze in shock and fear. He was taken by surprise when the man in bed swiftly, with a sleep influenced sort of grace, moved closer and gently pressed his lips to the Italian's. The kissed man, confused and slightly awed by the gesture, found himself parting his lips slightly, allowing entrance for the Spaniard. Because he knew that that was more than he had ever wanted for centuries.

Instead of deepening their lip contact with passion and tongue, Spain lazily reached out for Romano and hugged him with a delicate nature, as if the nation were made of paper.

And that was how the two entered their predicament/situation of sorts.

Romano was basically lying on top of his former caretaker, their lips smashing against each other, but neither man attempted to make any advances. Supposing that Spain was half asleep, he smoothly slid out of the Spaniard's grasp, landing onto the other side of the bed with a soft thud. Spain mumbled a bit from the sudden movement, but made no indication that he was stirred awake, which relieved the vigorously blushing Romano. Standing up and turning away from the bed, he brushed the tips of his fingers on his lips.

He was so soft… and his arms are so big…

Walking back to his room, the Italian nation reminisced on the shared embrace he had experienced. Oddly enough, Spain still smelt the same as he had before; tomatoes and spices, earth and ocean. The scents that Romano had grown so accustomed to growing up as he was hugged relentlessly by his caretaker, and eventually relishing each action. Clutching at his bed cover's as sleepiness took over his senses, Romano slipped out of his button-up shirt and dress pants [because Italian's slept naked] and snuggled comfortably under the covers as he drifted off into slumber.

Little did he know that Spain had been awake the entire time, completely aware of what had happened.

The tan skinned man relentlessly rolled around his bed, not being able to control the growing blush enrapturing his cheeks with flames. He had kissed Romano, and wanted more than anything to stick his tongue into the Italian's warm and inviting mouth, but he also knew that doing so would cause the other discomfort. Because it was only an accident, right? The nation had only been watching Spain [for what reason he had no idea, but let that slide] and never meant to do anything more than that, so it was the Iberian Peninsula's fault for kissing Romano. Or so he had convinced himself, which was why he feigned a state of somnolence and avoided an unwanted catastrophe.

Staring at the ceiling with dizziness in his head that wouldn't disappear, Spain closed his eyes and relived the experience. Romano had lips as gingerly soft to the touch as the Spaniard had hoped they'd be, and the fact that the blushing Italian opened his mouth ever so slightly did raise a few questions, but those trivial things didn't occupy his mind. Thoughts lingered again on the moment Spain raised the other nation onto his body, resting their faces and locking their lips into a warm contact. Oh, what sweet and fleeting bliss had taken over his physical manifestation then and there, making him want to violate Romano in so many ways. Following those images of his guilty pleasures was a string of wet dreams that left Spain moaning and gasping the name of his love in his deep sleep.

"Romano, how I wish you could love me the way I love you. How I wish you could think of me the way I think of you. How I wish you.. you," he whispered into the night, tears streaming down the Spaniard's tan cheeks as he recoiled internal from the ache in his heart.

What he had always wanted, but was never his. What was right in front of him now, though he couldn't bear to reach it? How come? That beautiful, miraculous, breathtaking Italian that had the rarest of smiles, yet when he did do so, they lit up Spain's world. He was well grown now, making it even harder for the Spanish nation to control his growing lust. But he knew the feelings inside of him could not be contained further, for he was a passionate man; if that's what he indeed was when around Romano, and what Romano had made him feel like.

Not the Kingdom of Spain.

Not his former caretaker.

Just human; a simple, yet significant creature. Beautifully, ordinarily human. If only Romano knew…

That night, with a tear stained face and an indicative mess in his bed, Spain dreamt of smiles he could share with his Italian now that they were reunited. He consciously chose to look on the brighter side, and was compelled even further to win Romano. No, he was not confident, to say the least; he knew nothing of the new personality and interests the Italian nation could have acquired during his lifetime without his ex guardian. But… the torture, the pain and the suffering would continue if he were not to at least try; this the Spaniard had concluded already.

I'm going to go for it, because I love Romano. I love him so much that it hurts to hide these wants and fears. I love him so much that I can't bear to watch him ever leave again, or heaven forbid if he ever goes to be with another.

He's MINE. My Romano, forever and always. We share a bond that was built when he still lived with me, and if I try hard enough, the foundations of our history can work towards a relationship.

It can work towards a happy ending, with only me and my Roma.

Despite the fact that his possessiveness bordered the unhealthy— and that he was nearing the point of outrageous delusions— Spain's outspoken devotion to his loved one was true and honest; anyone could see that. The Spanish nation just hoped that his message would reach Romano, the one person he wanted to know more than anyone else on the planet.

The next morning, Romano awoke to the sound of an acoustic guitar. Shielding his eyes as the rays of sunlight penetrated the room; he got up and trudged towards the door and out into the hallway. The aroma of tomatoes and baked bread wafted throughout the villa as the Italian followed the sound of the music to the outdoor patio that had a panoramic view of the Mediterranean Sea. There, seated comfortably on one of the reclining chairs, was Spain, tapping his foot melodically to the Tango Flamenco instrumental he was playing.

Romano was captivated as he watched how the man's tan hands worked their way meticulously with the strings of the guitar, fingering each one like a master. The calm and serene expression he wore melted the Italian nation's heart, as if Spain radiated—or rather—was the personification of sunlight and tranquility. Dressed neatly in a simply beige button up shirt and brown khaki shorts, along with worn out sandals that seemed to fit him so well, the Spaniard glowed under the morning sky, and it seemed as if the world smiled upon him. The ocean breeze brought scents of salt and earth, and the flowers appeared as if they were leaning closer to the guitar player, like they wanted to hear as much of the melodies as they could.

Spain was perfect in Romano's eyes, as he always was, but something about that setting made his heart stop and sink at the same time. Spain was too good for the Italian, and that made him in every sense un-reachable. What was Romano thinking, trying to aim for the heart of such a divine being as Spain? The country of passion! Sure, Italy had its quirks and was known for its romances as well, but the Southern Italian nation wasn't confident that his capabilities would work on his former caretaker, a man of whom he assumed had had MUCH more experience in the field of amor.

But he decided back in his mansion that he would try, and try he would.

Leaning on the frame of the opened door, Romano complacently listened to the rhythm of the guitar, and the beat of the Flamenco. His Latin blood stirred with anticipation and excitement, urging him to dance, and he would had there not been a handsome Spaniard present. However, he couldn't help but tap his feet, synchronizing his movements with Spain's own feet. Eventually he found himself humming along with the melody, and stopped himself hurriedly, mentally cursing and regretting. But he couldn't help it; the tune was so luring and persuasive. It practically screamed out to the Italian's physical and mental being, and he could feel Spain metaphorically plucking his heartstrings with each cord he struck.

And that's when their stares met, emerald with greenish gold.

Spain was taken immediately by the Italian nation's appearance, noting every small detail he could see. From the slight bed head the man had acquired from messy sleeping, to the half-unbuttoned shirt he was wearing, revealing a wonderfully olive toned chest. Everything about Romano at that moment screamed rape me, to Spain's horror and delight, but he chose to ignore the urges and grinned widely at the leaning man instead. Then he noticed the tapping of his foot, and chuckled under his breath.

"Good morning, Roma~! I take it you like the wake up call, si?" he asked, still continuing to play his guitar. Romano made sure that he kept eye contact with the Spaniard, intending on sending him a harsh glare, but only managing a weak one because of his lack of energy.

"It is noisy, idiota! That's not how a normal person wakes someone up," then he looked at the ground, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment, "A-And buon giorno to you too, bastardo." Spain's eyes widened a bit, not expecting a proper greeting from the Italian [of whom was usually grumpy during mornings, according to his memory], but didn't look a gift in the face and laughed in response.

"Si, mi tomate. But it looks like you are familiar with Flamenco and such, judging from the way you respond to the melody." Romano just grunted in response, and Spain took that as a 'yes'. Then he placed the guitar so it leaned against the side table, and gestured towards the kitchen area.

"Hungry?" he asked, and was answered with a loud grumble coming from the Italian nation's stomach. Flustered and feeling shameful, he muttered a quick 'stai zitto' when he heard the Spaniard laugh like a mad man while preparing the breakfast table.

After finishing their assortments of baked bread, tomatoes and tomato juice, the two sat awkwardly in the living room together, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, the Southern Italian took it upon himself to speak up, though he was quivering from the thought of doing so.

"So, tomato bastard, you know about the stupid as fuck scavenger hunt shit the hamburger bastard and the eyebrow bastard are holding, right?" Spain nodded, not understanding where the conversation was going, but he let Romano continue.

"Yeah, so Feliciano is going with that damn potato bastard, which I figured would happen. A-And, that maple bastard I call a 'friend' is going with that albino bastard—the hell if I know why, some shit about liking the guy or something—and Japan is going with the sleeping bastard, so… I mean, it's not like I don't know many people—because you better not be fucking thinking that!—I know plenty of nations, but… all of them already have partners for the stupid thing so I'm just thinking, 'Fuck them, I don't need those assholes.'" Spain nodded again, although he was still as lost as ever, and Romano could see that, so he rolled his eyes and reluctantly continued.

"Y-Yeah, but you see, my… my boss! He's a real dick, and he believes that because Feli is joining I should too, but I don't have a partner, so I don't see how that's actually possible…" Romano glanced upwards at the Spaniard, hoping he would buy the lie, and by the look of his face he did. But he ALSO remained oblivious to what the Italian was hinting at.

"Aw, well cheer up Roma~! Francis told me that ALL the nations in the world were invited, so there's bound to be SOMEONE out there for you, right~?" he asked, trying to be as comforting as possible. Apparently he failed, because Romano's left eye visibly twitched with annoyance as he shot a dark glare at Spain. Closing his eyes and muttering something under his breath—which sounded like counting in Japanese from the Spaniard's hearing—he heaved a heavy sigh and returned to lock eyes with the older man.

"D-D-Do… Err, umm, I mean… Ehh, d-d-d-d-d-do you, umm… ugh, I, uhhh," Romano was falling over his words and stuttering out of sheer nervousness, but his peculiar behavior made Spain inch closer to him on the couch, and their faces were only centimeters apart. The flustered man could feel the warm breath of the other as his eyes fluttered downwards, trying to find something to look at, ANYTHING besides the emerald eyes focused on him.

Spain felt the awkwardness too, but made no implication that he was going to move away any time soon. Instead, he stared at the beautifully flushed face of his Italian love, and the way his gold flecked hazel green eyes darted to different parts of the room. It was obvious that the man was nervous, but the Spaniard couldn't make out why he felt that way. All he knew was that the hot, rigid breaths Romano breathed out and onto Spain's face made him want to jump the man, then and there on the couch. But he had to be patient, because love took time to grow.

"Dime, mi precioso." Tell me, my precious one. Romano gulped at the wording, but obeyed.

"Who's pr-precious, bastardo? Anyways, umm… Do you already have a partner?" His face was crimson by then, and the Italian's lips were parted a bit to hide the fact that he was on the verge a mental collapse [only Italy knew that when Romano's lip entrance opened, it meant he was trying to hide something]. Immediately, something in his mind clicked, and Spain understood what the Italian meant to say with as little words as possible. Feeling EXTREMELY honored, overwhelmed and happy, he crushed Romano into a tight embrace, mending his fingers into the auburn coloured hair of the Italian nation.

"Oh Roma~! Of course I'll be your partner~! Acepto!" He chimed, pulling Romano closer to his body, without even realizing what sort of predicament he was creating. Spain stood up and swung the younger man around in his harms, dizzy with excitement and passion coursing through his veins. He would get to be with Romano for weeks on end! He would be given countless opportunities to prove his love to the feisty Italian! Laughing at the top of his lungs with delight, he continued to hoist Romano's body around in a sort of dance, until he realized what was happening.

And he wondered why Romano was so quiet…

The entire time Spain was dragging the Italian nation's figure and swaying him, he had ALSO been tugging on the particularly sensitive curl of Romano's without knowing so. Thus, through the entire ordeal, the sexually suffering Italian nation clutched to the Spaniard with all his might, panting furiously. And when said Spaniard realized what he had done, he apologized with vigor and gently placed the smaller man onto the couch, resting his head on a pillow. With his eyes closed, face flushed and gasps and moans escaping his throat, Spain couldn't help but feel ten times more attracted to the Italian nation than he ever had before, and that attraction started to heat a certain organ in his pants.

After the Spanish nation left to get a drink for Romano [and to relieve himself of the pain he had been enduring], he then proceeded to sitting in the nearby chair, waiting for the Italian to wake up.

The Southern Italian had never felt so humiliated in his entire existence. Not only did Spain see his weaker, more vulnerable self, BUT if one were to listen closely to what he had been moaning they would here the world 'piu', meaning 'more' in Italian. Which was exactly what Romano wanted; more of the Spaniards sexual abuse. More of his calloused, gentle hands wandering casually wandering about his body, without ever noticing the edgy way it affected him. Romano wanted to be touched more. But he would never admit that.

Even when he had given Spain such a needy look—such a deprived expression— that screamed 'Take me now!' and had seen that massive blush the Spaniard attained on his bronzed face, the man did nothing more than give him some juice and apologize tenfold. He also tried to act as if nothing had happened, which Romano was grateful for, but at the same time… he was not. And he didn't understand why.

Being in love is exhausting.

After the two of them snacked on churros and took their afternoon siestas, nighttime had already fallen. The Italian guest offered to cook [his excuse was that he didn't want to eat anymore Spanish 'crap, although the real reason, he'll never tell] and made tomato Fettucini with cinnamon bread sticks as appetizers. When the two finished up their meals and cleaned up, Romano settled down on the living room couch and turned on the television, pretending to be interested in what he was watching, all the while watching Spain from the corner of his eye.

The Spaniard's eyes were drooping slightly, indicating that sleep was taking over his personage. Before Romano could yell at him and send the man to bed, he felt the warmth of Spain's head resting on his shoulders. The Italian nation peered at the sleeping man's face and couldn't bear to awake the quietly snoring idiot, so he just complied with the position he was in. Before he knew, Romano had fallen asleep, resting his head on the other slumbering man's one. Unconsciously, the two moved their arms during their rest, and held hands with clenched fingers together.

Spain woke before Romano, after being startled out of his repose by the feeling of Romano's lips on his neck [unintentionally, of course]. Slowly, he lowered the younger man's head so that it was resting atop his lap, and took great care in moving into a more comfortable disposition. He remembered the feeling of their hands interlocked, their pulses beating through one other simply from the connection.

He really hoped Romano grew to love him, because he couldn't take much more of the arising tension that had developed in his villa. Sometimes, he caught the Italian staring at him with such intensity that it made even him blush. Spain brushed the younger nation's bangs out of his face, revealing an adorable expression he had adorned in his sleep. The Spaniard loved when Romano was fiery, hot-headed and stubborn, but also appreciated the most of silence he received during their times together. He stroked the Italian's cheek with his knuckles tenderly, and leant down to kiss his face. Just this once, he promised himself.

Drawing his face closer, Spain first planted butterfly kisses along both of Romano's cheeks, then up his jaw. But he wanted more. Lightly and with the utmost care, the Iberian man pressed a longing kiss onto the Italian man's forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. And still, that wasn't enough for him. He rubbed his thumb lightly on the sleeping nation's lower lip, before dipping down to plant a heartfelt kiss on his love's lips.

"Te amo, mi amor. Te quiero," he whispered lovingly into Romano's ears, and then proceeded to make his lip meet the Italian nation's soft neck. The smell of flowers and the ocean invaded his nostrils, only influencing the Spaniard to place his head near every open area possible, as long as he could smell those wonderful scents. Spain's head spun with delight as he felt Romano weave their fingers tighter together [for he still hadn't let go of their grip], and smiled as he gave the Italian nation's lips another chaste kiss.

Romano was the only person that ever drove him to such heights and antics, but that was okay with him, because Spain firmly believed that only his true love should make him feel that way. He wished to make Romano scream his name in pure ecstasy at the top of his lungs, with a coat of sweat and tears slicked on his body. The Spaniard wanted to make passionate, pure, yet dark love to the object of his desire. Every time of the day, every place, he would watch Romano with hungry eyes until the lovely Italian had succumbed to his wooing. Spain could see his life pretty much like that, for the time being.

Before settling himself comfortably on the couch to sleep, the nation drew one last kiss from the sleeping man beneath him, licking the bottom of his lips a bit when his infatuation presented to be too much. As he pulled away, he saw Romano stir in his sleep, and his mouth opened somewhat.

"S-Spain," the Southern Italian breathed, before reaching out and caressing his former caretaker's cheek. The man was shocked, but could tell from the way that Romano was breathing that he was still very much asleep. But Spain never knew he talked in his sleep; it was new.

The olive toned hand that fondled the Spanish nation's cheek then advanced to his hair, stroking the curls. On instinct, the older man leant down a bit to make the movement easier for his little tomato, and eventually began to hug Romano's body to his own, positioning the two so that they were lying on their sides facing each other.

"Spain," the Italian said more clearly this time, though he was still asleep.

"Mi hai fatto perdere la testa." Spain frowned, for he did not know much Italian, but continued to listen to the beautiful language that sounded even more so coming from Romano's mouth.

"Ecciti i mei sensi. I miei sensi sono pieni di te. Nessuno è come te. Con te dimentico il tempo. Vorrei annegare nei tuoi occhi. Sei il sole della mia vita. Mi sono infatuato di te. Oh, Dios mio," he whispered in an incoherent kind of way, making it hard for Spain to understand what he was saying. Scratch that; he understood nothing that had been coming out of the Italian's mouth. Then he noticed a shimmering liquid trailing down Romano's face, and realized that he had been crying while saying those things. The Spaniard made haste in kissing all the tears away, and cupped the smaller nation's face in his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Oh, Spain, if only you knew… I-If only you understood… God, this hurts," he muttered quietly in English, before silently sobbing again. While stroking Romano's hair in a comforting way, Spain wondered what the Italian meant, and what he was talking about. What could possibly be hurting Romano so much? And why couldn't he just tell Spain straight out?

Exhausted from all the thinking he had to do, the Spanish nation decided to call it a night, and eagerly slipped into slumber with his love in his arms.

I believe this entire chapter was just, like, sexual tension and passionate fluff, if there is such a thing...? Well, at least I've introduced their partnership in the scavenger hunt, so I suppose things are moving along... yup.

Usually I don't add translations for the Italian and Spanish [mostly because its basic stuff], but there was quite a bit in this chapter, so I feel like being kind today. Please note that although I have been speaking Italian for nearly six years now, it is NOT my first language, more like my fifth [yup I'm multilingual, but that's what happens when your family is obsessed with making you a genius]. Without further ado, the translations:

Ecciti i mei sensi - You excite my senses

I miei sensi sono pieni di te - My senses are filled with you

Nessuno è come te - No one is like you

Con te dimentico il tempo - With you I forget time

Vorrei annegare nei tuoi occhi - I want to drown in you eyes

Sei il sole della mia vita - You are the sunshine of my life

Mi sono infatuato di te - I'm infatuated with you

OOkkkayy, so normal people do NOT talk like this, but I figured that Romano's love borders that of something sincere, thus, cheesy ass romantic lines are need, people.

NEXT CHAPTER~! ... It will probably be centered around the town, Alicante [in Spain], in which Spain's villa is in, and how he and Romano sight see and shit before they leave to America for the scavenger hunt. So expect the main plot and much romance and much of the lovely yaoi I know you probably want set in motion after the next chapter~!