Helloooo dear readers~! I recently got the colouring on my hair removed, so it's back to it's original auburn colour! I'm so happy~~

Ahem, right that's not important. Anyways, here's the new chapter! ^w^

There wasn't much to say about the following morning: Spain and Romano woke up at around five thirty two am thanks to the well prepared alarm set on the responsible Italian nation's smart phone. After awkwardly stumbling over their words and exchanging embarrassed flustered glances—due to the positions they acquired during their sleep—the two grabbed their bags, got changed and headed to Madrid-Barajas Airport [in Spain's SEAT Ibiza, much to Romano's horror].

The drive would take around four hours and twenty four minutes [with traffic] and their flight left at eleven so Spain suggested that the two would stop while driving through Albacete to grab something to eat [since they left his villa in a hurry].

While passing by the town of Almansa and nearing their rest stop, Romano made himself busy by observing the bluish glow that illuminated the early morning sky. The Spanish countryside was full of vegetation growing on the sides of the A-31, while the mountains and hills could also be observed from the view of the car. Romano could feel his eyelids dropping downwards slowly but he lightly pinched his wrist and frowned with displeasure; he felt that it was unfair [and rather unmanly, for some bizarre reason] to fall asleep while the Spanish driver next to him continued to stay alert. Said Spaniard noticed his somewhat exhausted frown and gently touched the surprised Italian's shoulder.

"Roma, you can sleep if you want to," he calmly offered, though the drowsiness in his voice was something he could not mask. The nation in the passenger seat eyed him with a strong level of discomfort, and then shook his head in a determined manner.

"No way, if you're staying up for the entire trip then so am I," Romano said, and the topic was reluctantly dropped by the [secretly grateful] Spaniard. He was happy that the Italian would stay up with him during their short journey, yet he also wanted the younger man to peacefully rest. It drove Spain crazy when his desires contradicted each other, not to mention the fact that it required more thinking on his part.

Finally they had entered the city of Albacete, and Romano was surprised to find that the place was the very traditional yet modern at the same time, despite being a minor industrial place. They had passed by the knife museum and cathedral before parking in front of a small café that had a sign reading 'El Sabor de España'.

"'The Flavour of Spain'," he translated out loud, finding the name rather charming in a quaint sort of way. Spain beamed and placed a friendly hand on the Italian's shoulder.

"I've been here once with Greece before and the food was amazing~! I mean it, nothing sums up 'the Mediterranean diet' more than what they serve here!" the excited Spaniard cheered, and then he quickly got out of his automobile and opened the half disoriented Romano's door for him. Before walking into the restaurant, the Italian nation quietly scrutinized Spain's car and made a slightly dissatisfied grunt.

"What's wrong?" the more active of the two asked, noticing the way Romano looked at his ride. Said man clicked his tongue and turned to look at him with a tint of red added to his cheeks.

"It's just that—and don't take serious offence, you baby, because I happen to be a man of taste—you drive a SEAT Ibiza. A SEAT IBIZA, FOR GOD'S SAKE! Granted it is a Sport Coupé, so that's a bit of a plus, but you happen to own one of the least attractive cars I've seen. And trust me; I've seen a LOT of ugly ass cars," he added to the drama by gesturing to Spain's car in an insane sort of fashion. "Seriously, anyone's MOTHER would definitely drive that godforsaken and SUPER safe machine for sure, but SANE nations wouldn't even be SEEN in that thing! For crying out loud, FRANCE has better taste than you!" Romano continued his ranting while flailing his arms in the air like the true Italian that he was, all the while Spain continued to watch the shorter man speak passionately about one of his interests with such an intensity in his expression and voice. It honestly drove the Spaniard mad observing his cuteness, and soon he could no longer suppress his chuckles. Romano stopped speaking and raised one if his brows with annoyance when he took notice of the laughter. After awhile, the giggles and shaking ceased, leaving a rather red faced Spanish nation and a pissed off Italian.

"Ah Roma, I'm sorry that I have such terrible choice when it comes to mode of transportation, but I've never really thought about those sort of things much; I just don't care. Though I can see that it is practically a way of life for you," he admitted, and amusedly observed Romano's intense blush as his eyes shot around to nowhere in particular, indicating that the man was nervous.

"W-Whatever, let's just eat already; I'm starving," he muttered and shyly grabbed Spain's arm as he dragged him into the restaurant. The ambience of the small enclosure was nice and had an elegant yet simple sort of style to it, automatically appealing to the Italian's senses. Spain [whose arm was still linked with Romano's] inspected his love's relaxed features and inwardly celebrated over the fact that Romano had taken the initiative once more and acted affectionate. They were led by a preppy Spanish waitress to a table for two next to the large glass window that had a nice view of the restaurant's garden.

After choosing from the large variety of fruit and seafood related dishes [which had impressed Romano] and selecting Rioja as their wine, the server left to fetch the specific food and beverages. Spain eagerly watched the Italian seated across from him as he bit into his first bite of the Spanish omelet they had ordered [and decided to share, much to both of their secret delights]. Romano's eyes widened a bit, and then he went for another bite. Then another. Then another. It was evident that the nation liked his food very much and that made Spain smile his brightest.

"Oh Roma, you're so cute~! I'm not sure I want the omelet or you for breakfast~~" he cooed, turning crimson when he had realized what he had just said. Er, that was supposed to stay in my head… it wasn't too creepy, was it? Romano instantly dropped his fork and abruptly choked on his food, gulping down tomato juice to ease the bite caught in his throat. What Spain had suddenly said was very… adorable in his point of view, and the phrase caught him completely off guard. After accepting the frantic pats on his back that a certain worried Spaniard was giving him, Romano wiped his mouth with care and failed to look the man straight in the eyes.

"W-What are you saying, you bastard! You sounded like that fuckface France for a moment there and you should seriously stay away from that pervert; you might catch his stupid!" Then the red faced Italian nation made a thoughtful yet embarrassed expression. "But you ARE already a bastard, so I guess there's no hope for you, is there?" Spain didn't really understand what the younger man was getting at, but he did catch on to the fact that Romano didn't react as horribly as what was expected. So the Spaniard decided to be daring and continue his intimate advances [or what most normal people with a brain call it: flirting].

"Aw, I'm wounded! How can you be so cruel to me when I complimented and praised you?~" he whined, trying to add to his charm with the best 'kicked puppy dog' look he could make [since he knew that that had been Romano's weakness since he was young]. But the semi-flustered Italian still managed a snort and folded his arms with determination.

"Don't you go trying to act all sad and shit, you wuss! My brother happens to be North Italy— the wimpiest and most cry baby-ish nation on this planet— so I am IMMUNE to all begging! A-And don't think that being cute is a compliment or anything like that, because I'm not cute you asshole! Handsome: yes. Debonair: of course. Hell, even badass is fine, but CUTE is something I can't STAND being called!" Though even as Romano was shouting all these things, he felt his resolve slowly fading away as Spain's facial expression attracted him, and the nation mentally kicked himself for being so weak. The now whimpering Spaniard pouted even more than before and lowered his eyes in defeat.

"Roma, you can be so cold sometimes," he quietly muttered, although he knew that the other had heard him well. Spain was used to the Italian's usual distant personality and thought that it would never affect him the way it effected others, but there were times when all he wished for was a hug or some sort acknowledgment. When he looked up he was surprised to see Romano staring at him with a sort of remorseful and apologetic expression, though he doubted that was the case. Isn't it?

Then the younger nation stood up and walked over to the main counter, pulling a couple of Euros from his coat pocket and setting it on the surface with car. He mumbled something to the cashier, which was replied with a slight nod, and then Romano approached where Spain was seated and grabbed the older man by the arm, pulling him out of the restaurant and next to the Spaniard's car.

"Romano!" he gasped as the Spaniard was roughly shoved into his driver's chair by a rather red faced Italian nation. Said nation took it upon himself to sit in his passenger's seat and close the door. A minute of awkward silence passed as Spain nervously glanced at Romano's stoic expression.

"Umm," he began, but was cut off by a hand lightly placed on his arm. Alarmed by the action [but not displeased], his green eyes met intense yet saddened hazel green ones, and he wanted more than anything to know what his love was thinking. Suddenly, Romano boldly buried his face in Spain's arm, surprising the Spaniard with his warmth and the unexpected show of affection.

"Mmmfurrm," he mumbled, and of COURSE Spain didn't have a clue what the Italian had said. So he leaned in on instinct, his mouth only a few centimeters away from Romano's ear.

"I didn't quite catch that," he whispered in a raspy voice, for his heart was beating rapidly in his chest and the older nation knew that his face must have been as red as the tomatoes he adored so much. Spain watched the smaller man's feet shuffle nervously, but nonetheless he was driven to hear what he had thought was said. The situation reminded him so much of that one night after the time when the Spaniard had saved his former colony from Turkey, and Romano had shyly come into his room and thanked him.

The unrefined yet captivating manner that the Italian had displayed back then was similar to the one he was exhibiting at that very moment, with the acceptation of the fact that Spain was in love with him in the latter situation. And lately, he couldn't help but think that Romano loved him back.

He honestly couldn't help but think that, despite knowing that they were wishful thoughts just to put his insecurities at ease.

"I SAID that I was sorry, and I KNOW that you knew what I meant to say, you jerk, so don't try and pretend that that's not the case," the Italian said through gritted teeth, confirming Spain's suspicion that the younger man knew how to read him like a book. And that's one of the many reasons why I love him. The Spaniard laughed softly and caressed Romano's hair [while avoiding the forbidden curl, of course], cherishing every minute of open kindness from his crush.

"I guess you're right about that; I did understand you that first time. But… I just like hearing you say it; is that so wrong?" Spain asked in a gentle-toned voice, smiling widely when he heard the Italian's scoff as a reply.

"You bet it is, bastard. Yeah, you're really messed up if you like hearing someone apologize more than once, even from something as simple as 'I'm sorry'," he answered in return, turning away from the Spaniard's arm to face the window.

"It's not simple, Romano. Not at all." The husky voice that Spain had acquired when speaking the sentence struck the Southern Italian's heartstrings, making him unable to move away as the Spaniard inched closer to his scarlet face. Romano's breathing became shallow and his eyes were transfixed on the older nation's green ones. Despite being aware of the uncomfortable situation he was creating, Spain did not hesitate when he stroked the smaller man's blazing cheek while leaning so far that he managed to make a few centimeters between the tips of their noses.

"You happen to read my moods and thoughts so well that it scares me a bit, Roma, yet at the same time it also makes me extremely happy to know that you know me so well. And your apologies like music to my ears, lo-" He stopped himself in the middle the word, surprised that his inner thoughts almost came out. What I wanted to say was 'love', but I never meant to almost actually say it.

Luckily, Romano hadn't paid much attention to the unfinished sentence, for his mind was more occupied with the fact that Spain was very close to his face. So close that he could feel the other nation's breath. So close that if he moved the slightest bit forward, they would be kissing. The Italian's mind melted from the pleasuring thought of lip contact with his Spanish love interest; he had wanted to do that for entire lifetimes.

"W-What do y-you… I m-mean you, you, you…" Romano wasn't aware that words were even coming from his mouth; his body just refused to stay entirely unresponsive. He felt stiff and didn't even notice that Spain was trembling as well.

Carefully, the Spaniard's lips hovered over Romano's ones, nearly closing the small distance between them. They were both obviously nervous, and several thoughts rang simultaneously in their minds.

Kiss me.

Kiss me already.

Why do you look so hesitant?

I wan't this!

The two were scared that they'd overstep the other's personal bounds by making the first move, so it was basically a turtle race between Spain and Romano. It was tiring and with the way things were turning out, their relationship would go nowhere. Yet both nations yearned to be within each other's hearts and thoughts constantly, and they wanted more than anything to take their 'friendship' further.

Suddenly there were several crude knocks on the front window that made the two men jump, reposition themselves and send death glares to the person that fucking dared to mess up their intimate moment. It was the waitress from the restaurant holding what looked like a small phone. Romano's smart phone, to be exact. Trying to muster a kind smile, Spain rolled down the window and stuck his head out to speak to the woman.

"Sir, you forgot your phone!" she squealed frantically, handing it to the Spanish driver with a trembling hand. "I mean I seriously thought I would miss you two since it happened to be a bit later when I had noticed the phone, but like, it's a good thing you didn't go anywhere!" She continued to ramble about things Spain could care less about, and in fact, he started feeling rather murderous towards the girl. A phone! She had knocked on his window like a deranged lunatic for a phone! And yet he was so close to kissing Romano, and he could see that the Italian wanted it. Somehow, he just felt like they both wanted the same thing, even if the younger wouldn't show that he did.

Spain had thought about the possibility long ago, coming to the conclusion that due to Romano's personality, he would probably try and hide any romantic feelings for another once the time came when he did fall in love. However, the time he pondered on such things was lifetimes ago when he still thought of the younger nation as a brother. Things were different then, and present-day the country was older and more experienced… or so Spain hoped he wasn't. As much as he loved him, it both hurt and angered him when he thought of Romano together with other people as 'lovers'.

No, he was determined more than ever that that position was his one and only goal, so he called dibs! … Well, not out loud but he was sure that his love for Romano was very obvious to other nations and that if they knew what was good for them, they would back off.

"Listen, signorina, I thank you for finding my phone and all, but my friend and I are on a tight schedule and we have a place to go," came the voice of a very grumpy Italian nation, cutting off Spain from his train of thought to focus on his surroundings. The waitress nodded in understanding, blushing a little when she noticed for the first time how handsome and polite her former customer was. She was obviously ogling at his charm and it made the Spaniard want to open his car door and shove her away from 'his' Romano.

Said Italian noticed her flustered state but did not acknowledge it [though in most cases he would] for the nation was far too tired to even bother with such petty things. Spain noticed and would have jumped with glee… if Romano had not been around and if he had not been in a car and all. Waving goodbye to the two men with a bright and cheery smile, she practically skipped [much to Spain's annoyance] back to her working station.

The Spaniard pulled out of his parking spot and drove along the highway that led to Madrid once more, though the scene that had been rudely interrupted still played back in his mind. He felt like a fool for over thinking things and being hopeful, but Romano looked like he really really wanted a kiss… and more. And he also felt stupid for not initiating anything first. God, I'm an idiot.

The same thoughts were going through the Southern Italian's head as well when he reminisced on the needy yet insecure look Spain had given him when their faces had been at such a close proximity with each other. It was a hopeful expression that seemed to have asked for some sort of permission, yet he also knew that the Spaniard's eyes had been studying his own face. What did that mean? Romano wondered if he was as easy to read as a book, and whether or not Spain had discovered his true feelings for the older man. Despite his worries and such bugging his mind, the Italian really liked to believe that they both wanted to kiss the other, and that they both wanted a LOT more than just that, too.

I don't want to sound too light-hearted or anything, but…

I-I think that bastard wanted to kiss me, and he wanted to kiss me REAL bad. Ah, but that's just being full of myself, isn't it?

Still, he thought about it for some time while staring outside the window at particularly nothing in general.

So, in theory, if we both happen to be mutual about our feelings as of now, aren't we just beating around the bush? Acting nervous and shy like a bunch of teenagers? Would we be THAT damn sad to watch?

It horrified Romano when he thought about the possibility, yet he could only end it by believing that to be true: if he and Spain were in love with one another but weren't doing shit about it, they were two very sad excuses for Latin nations. Spain was all about passion! Italy was all about romance! Both men should have fit two and two together from the very beginning, if that were the case.

But Romano had to end his rationalization with a deep sigh. He and Spain weren't like that, for the most part, and though the elder did show that he wasn't entirely uninterested in the Italian, said nation couldn't determine whether it was love or something else.

But he's rather have love. And with that Romano decided that he would be very bold with his Spanish crush from then on, though he had lack of confidence in his own resolve to do so.

After boarding the plane and getting accustomed to their seats [Romano's by the window, Spain's sitting next to him] the two nations relaxed as the aircraft ascended into the sky. It would be approximately eight hours before they landed in Washington D.C. so the two decided they occupy themselves with the built in screens on the back of the seats in front of them. Romano peeked at Spain's screen and couldn't help but grin when he saw that the Spaniard was watching cartoons. Stupid, cute bastard.

The older nation, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to that he was being intently watched by the Italian and continued stifling his giggles as the children's show on screen continued. Romano couldn't help but love that about his former guardian; the man was so childish and alive, unlike everyone else around him. Yet at the same time his lack of maturity presented problems for him. The younger man groaned, turning off his screen and peeking outside the window.

And what do you know, Romano, its fucking blue out there! he remarked sarcastically as his eyes begin to droop downwards. Spain's attention was caught when he looked down to find Romano's head on his shoulder, the younger man sleeping with an angelic face gracing his features. The Spaniard couldn't help but tenderly remove the bangs blocking his love's face and smiling his sweetest of smiles. In his eyes the man was beautiful, be it asleep or when he was ranting about things no one cared about.

"Sleep well, Romanito," he mumbled in the Italian's auburn hair, before resting his chin on the smaller man's head and falling asleep himself.

After retrieving their bags and calling up the hotel they had reservations for to let them know that they were in the country, Spain and Romano caught a taxi and hauled themselves in the backseat. After instructing the driver on where to go they watched as the man plugged in his earphones and turned the volume to max. Romano frowned and muttered words in Italian under his breath that the Spaniard knew where not very nice.

"So I heard that practically everyone has arrived at the hotel already, and I'm sure that it'll be real busy when we arrive, Romano," Spain said, trying to make conversation with the moody Italian [moody because he complained that he didn't get enough rest]. He only grunted in response, trying his best not to hurl his rage at the people nearest to him even though he wanted to do so very badly [after all, that was how he solved all his problems]. Suddenly, one of Spain's words stuck in his mind.

Romano. Spain had called him by his nation name, even when they were in America already. Although he was sure that the oblivious Spaniard didn't mean to do so [even AFTER he had told him numerous times about the naming deal] and Romano found that it was the perfect opportunity to take charge of the relationship and push it in the right direction. Even with that in mind, he was still nervous.

Geez, I know I'm Italian but right now I have to man up and do it for… for… for love.

HOLY FUCKING SHITFACE I DID NOT JUST THINK THAT. Girliest shit ever, no way in my fucking LIFE will I think that again. Not EVER.

He cleared his throat and gently rested his arm on Spain's, causing the older nation to sharply glance in his direction with a confused expression. Inhaling deeply, Romano looked the green eyed man straight in the eye and tried to fight the ever growing blush on his face.

"Lovino. It's Lovino, remember?" he mumbled in a low voice, though he knew that he Spaniard had heard him, because their faces weren't that far apart. And last time he checked, Spain wasn't deaf; just stupid. The larger nation's voice was caught in his throat, and no sooner he felt blush spreading on his cheeks like wildfire. If only Romano knew that he was adorable when he was serious! Spain smiled and chuckled in response to the Italian's question.

"Lo siento, Lovino," he said in the best honey-glazed voice he could manage. It seemed to have some effect on the Mediterranean nation next to him, who turned even more crimson when he had heard the obvious seduction in Spain's voice. But he wouldn't let the older man get the better of him, and the determination that he had struck upon during the car ride to Madrid returned to the Italian. Smiling a very sweet and charming smile, along with looking up from his long eyelashes, Romano used his best entrancing voice.

"That's alright, Antonio."

The Spaniard's eye twitched and he felt heat rising in his crotch area; it took all his willpower to stop himself from moaning in sheer delight. Did Romano just use the same sugar coated and utterly sexy voice he had tried to use on the younger nation? And worse, was he better at it too?

It was then that the Spanish man knew what had to be done during his few weeks with Romano:

Seduce the living daylights out of his former colony, of course!

Next Chapter: Expect an overly cheerful and seductive Spaniard, along with an equally enthusiastic if not somewhat still tsundere-ish Italian! That's right: let the flirting games begin! :D Oh I'm going to love writing those two as total hunks that know how to fucking seduce even without experience! What can I say, it's in the genes!

Also, other characters and pairings make their appearances! I will have fun writing USUK [especially America] and PruCan [especially Prussia]

Oh yes, next chapter will be fun to write AND read, heheheheh O/w/O

P.S. for those that are confused, Spain and Romano are at a point where they are 70% sure that the other is interested in going beyond their friendship, it's just a matter of who is confident enough to make the first move without screwing things over