So. Excuses are pointless, because life isn't an excuse: I am ri-di-cu-lous-ly late with the story update. Due to reasons [I'm M-O-V-I-N-G]. I feel like a lot of FF writers are on some sort of hiatus or something, so I guess I'm not alone. Althooough I'm happy that I know for a fact that I'll finish this story, and I can estimate that a few more chapters are left. Anywayyys, this chapter is a little bitter-sweet and a tad angsty near the end. Only a tad, though. Enjoy~ 0v0

Awakened by the warm rays of sunlight that beamed on his face through curtain's crevice, Romano reluctantly opened his eyes. The first thing he became aware of was the pain that made his back and ass ache. As long as he didn't move, though, it seemed to die out for a bit. The next thing he noticed was Spain's scrutinizing gaze inspecting him. Deciding that it was far too early to deal with the Spaniard, Romano pretended to sleep. But Spain had noticed his eyes briefly open the first time, and would be tolerating none of his love's laziness on that particular morning.

Sneakily, the Spanish nation snuggled closer to Romano and supported the Italian's head under his bicep. He noted every detail of the Italian's appearance, from his flushed cheeks to the small folds on his face caused by Romano's 'convincing' dozing presentation. Everything about him was alluring in countless ways, without exception, and Spain figured that a few kisses couldn't hurt anyone. However, the younger man lazily forced his eyes open before he could execute the peck.

Noticing the Spaniard's slight pout, Romano let a heavy sigh escape his lungs and moved their faces nearer to one another. Spain's lips formed a small smile, adoration evident in his bright green orbs, and he used his arms to pull his beloved closer.

"Buenos días mi amor," the older nation greeted, chuckling a bit when he heard the other man's lethargy-plagued groan, although it was secretly content as well. Romano loved the impression of his skin pressed against the base of Spain's throat, for he could feel the Spaniard's melodic voice and the vibrations it omitted. That alone had always been enough to reduce the Italian to a sense of calmness, even affecting him during his colony days.

"Mmm, you too," Romano mumbled in reply, trying to ignore the growing tension located on his lower back. Spain acknowledged his winces with worry and knew that the younger man was enduring the after-afflictions of their sexual activity, as was expected to happen [due to the fact that it was their first time; positioning was neither of their specialties]. But still, the Spaniard was troubled by Romano's distressed expression, and knew that he was partly the cause to boot. Sitting upright, he hefted up the futon and his eyes widened in shock when he noticed a pinkish liquid staining the baby blue bed sheets.

Spain had had his suspicions that Romano could have been a virgin, but he didn't quite believe it at first. And yet, there was the evidence in plain sight, affirming his uncertain notions. Truth be told, the Spaniard was more than happy to have been his love's first; it couldn't have been more perfect, in his opinion. On the other side of his perspective, he also wished that he had known the information beforehand [or had at least asked] so that the intercourse could have been less rushed; after all, France told him that the key to anal sex was to go slowly and try as hard as you can not to slip, or else the other will bleed.

Nonetheless, Romano had seemed fine and assuring for most of the time, so Spain tried not to think too much about the possibility that he could have seriously injured him. To explain things better, the Iberian nation didn't have any experience whatsoever, and with a virgin, it was even more so. The entire time they were having sex, Spain had constantly worried about his performance and the like, though he still tried to keep a cool head. Of course, everyone was vulnerable when it came to nervousness and love. Even personifications.

Acquiring clean clothes from his duffel bag, Spain looked through the inn's information pamphlet and called room service to bring their early morning breakfast. Once the food was set on the room's balcony table, Romano caught whiff of its scent and awoke from his compulsory nap [he passed out after the sharp waves of pain that hit him]. However, the Italian learnt the hard way that trying to get out of bed would lead to anguish, and he groaned loudly due to his own frustration. Like the ever attentive lover that he was, Spain sauntered over to Romano and placed his meal on a bed tray. The Spaniard fluffed his pillows and helped him sit up, warily searching for any signs of discomfort on the younger nations face.

Spain climbed onto their bed— careful not to tip the food lest it end up making a mess— and sat opposite of his love nearest to the foot of the bunk. Savouring the taste of buttery homemade croissants, Romano was aware of the Spanish nation's intense stare fixed upon him, but chose to ignore it for the time being. After drinking down half a glass of his orange juice, he decided to humour Spain by making eye contact with the other man. Noticing that he had Romano's attention, Spain folded his hands together and nervously stared downwards.

"L-Lovi, you know I love you, right? Because I really, really do. And I would never try to hurt you if it meant that you'd hate me," he began, but was cut off by Romano's exasperated groan.

"Idiot. I wouldn't hate you because of something like sex. Hurting happens, okay? It just does, and that's kind of natural anyways, considering this is our first.. er, time doing it together." The Italian frowned when he felt another sharp jolt of pain run up his spine, yet he chose to overlook the slight twinge and continued glowering at Spain. Said Spanish nation grinned half-heartedly while rubbing the back of his neck, unsure of how to express his thoughts.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, I guess. But I still regret not being gentler, mainly because..," it took an additional intake of breath before he could proceed to put things gently. "Um, you trust me, right? I mean, enough to tell me certain things that might be important? Like, really important?" Unfortunately, Romano didn't really get what he was hinting at, but nodded nonetheless, apparent confusion written on his olive features. Spain's lips formed a pout and he reached over the bed tray to grasp the younger nation's hands, caressing them with his calloused thumbs whilst his slight nervousness continued.

"Th-Then why didn't you tell me that you had never made love before? I would have liked to know before we… did it." Romano's face started to burn as his eyes darted about the room. The Italian was embarrassed beyond belief, mainly because he had overlooked the one topic that was most important of all; his recently former status of maidenhood. Swallowing long and hard, he forced himself to meet the Spaniard's eyes and kept his voice at a semi-quiet volume.

"I-It's not that I don't trust you, because I do. And I really was planning on telling you, but…" Romano let his eyes wander to the bed as his blush grew even more intense than before. "I sort of forgot to. Tell you, I mean. Yeah." Spain blinked a few times, his mind taking a while to process that bit of information, before he finally realized what had been said.

"You… forgot?" he inquired with curiosity, amusement, and incredulousness all racing through his mind. Romano nodded slowly, aware of the absurdity of his words, which was the main reason for why he was so ashamed in the first place.

"Y-Yeah, kinda. B-Because of… you know. The foreplay and all." If the Italian nation was blushing heavily in the beginning, he was radiating crimson by then. Spain stared at him blankly, lacking the expressions to create a justifiable response. But deep down, the Spanish nation felt shocked and bewildered by the fact that mere erotic contact without intercourse was all it took to make Romano's senses in a dazed disposition. Was he that good? Well, Spain knew that he had enjoyed the experience greatly, but never expected the Italian to feel even more strongly about it.

"Oh," he uttered in a soft voice "Oh." Romano bit his bottom lip and met Spain's gaze, uncertainty reflected in those hazel green orbs of his.

The older man was also grateful for Romano's mild reaction to the question, for there was a towering possibility that he could have taken it far worse and ran off in a huff. Noticing the Italian nation's awkward hand fumbling movements, Spain figured that he thought he was irked by him or something; it's not as if the Spaniard always knew what his lover was thinking.

Transferring himself next to Romano, the Spanish nation set his bed tray on the nightstand and gently cupped his love's cheeks, bringing their faces closer to one another.

"One way or another, mi querido, it was the most fulfilling night of my entire existence. I'm the luckiest, happiest person in the world, and you've made me this way. I love you," the Spaniard confessed with as much sentiment as his voice could convey. Romano felt himself on the verge of tears, but managed to prevent his partly glazed eyes from omitting water. Instead, he grasped Spain's wrists—which were still holding his face—tenderly and withheld all his overwhelming emotions that threatened to burst from him.

Being in love, and being loved in return, truly was the greatest thing he could have ever hoped to attain. The prospect of such a relationship disappearing was what he feared most of all, and yet, the Italian knew that being with his beloved was worth the risk. Antonio was worth the risk.

"Y-You're also the sappiest bastard in the world," he grumbled in a low voice. Spain's grin simply widened as his cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red. Knowing that Romano felt flustered by such words made the Spanish nation's heart feel lighter and he relished the adorable blush his dearest sported. Swallowing all of his pride, the Southern Italian rested their foreheads together and shut his eyes, foreseeing his inevitable embarrassment that was sure to come.

"R-Regardless, I-I love you too. A-And I'm glad my first time w-was with you, and shit. And… um… Oh what the fuck ever, you get it." Romano was stumbling over his words due to the fact that he didn't know how to express all of his feelings, and Spain could see this, so he shut his partner up with a kiss. Although the younger man was partially irritated because he was cut off, he was also grateful for the distraction, and gladly kissed his Spanish lover back while he clung to him. When both of them pulled away, Romano was surprised to see Spain's profile… well, redder than a tomato, for lack of a better word. The Spaniard chuckled and captured Romano into a warm embrace, nuzzling his face in the other's auburn hair.

"Uwahh, I feel so loved~! Te amo, Lovinito~!" he professed, inhaling the Italian's succulent scents and radiating skin. Romano felt a little invaded by the clinginess of his bedmate, but made no effort to push the older man away. Eventually, the morning aches got the better of him, and he expressed his discomfort with a few whines. Spain carefully maneuvered the smaller nation off of their bed and gently carried him to the bathroom, ignoring Romano's weak protests. After brushing his teeth and having to pry the Spaniard off of his body [for the larger nation wished to help him with that task] Romano finished packing.

Per Spain's request, he had to wait in the Jeep while the Spaniard hefted their bags inside and signed out of the inn. He supposed it was due to his aching back pains, which were faltering slightly as time went on, so Romano had no real problem with being treated gently; after all, it did hurt a bit more than he had expected it to [but that was inexperience for you]. As Spain drove north towards San Marco Avenue, he suddenly realized that he had no idea where they were going next.

"Umm, Lovi?"

"Hmm?"

"Where exactly should I be driving now?" he questioned, taking Romano's exasperated sigh into account. Well, the Spanish nation had had more distracting things on his mind during their trip. Like the love of his life and all. Removing a foldable map and his notepad from the glove compartment, the Italian read over a few details before relaying the needed information.

"Louisana. Alexandria, to be exact. You see, it takes around thirty-ish hours to get to Taos, and we obviously can't get there in one day. Since I hate driving at night—and this damn country for that matter—we'll stop in Alexandria to get some shut eye or something. It'll only take around twelve hours if we're lucky and traffic isn't a total bitch. Wait, exit that one over there- no idiot the one that says 21B, don't fucking crash us. Then merge onto Intersection 10 W towards signs that direct to Lake City." While Spain followed the Italian's precise instructions, he took time to observe the clear blue sky that assured good weather for that particular day.

Watching the rain travel downwards on the glass window until it reached moist dirt, both men sat in the diner and quietly wondered how such conditions could have come to pass. One minute, everything was partially cloudy but not too bad, and the next, a violent rain shower pelted onto their windshield while they drove past Gulfport's city border. The two had trouble navigating the road as the storm commenced and decided to grab a bite to eat at a local concession, leaving only when the downpour of water ceased. Romano cursed the bipolar weather, and the landmass's geographic positioning, for that matter. Spain just contently bit down into his cheese burger, although it was a bit too large for his tastes.

"Fuck these portion sizes. Fuck this weather. Fuck it all," the younger personification vented in an agitated manner, poking at his massive amount of potato cringles with a look of disgust. Spain laughed at his adorable display and swiped a chip, dipping it into their tomato sauce before popping it into his mouth. The Italian wasn't even bothered by the theft of his abundant appetizer, far too absorbed in sulking and frowning. A few women seated nearby shot him dirty glares, probably offended by the language he had used earlier, but said nothing at all and continued conversing in French.

"Aw come on, at least you're here with me~" his Spanish companion reassured in a smooth voice. Romano merely scoffed and reached over the table to steal a bite of Spain's considerably jumbo cheese burger, ignoring the other's puppy-like pout.

"Cetriolo," was all Romano mumbled in response, and then he stood up to leave, for the sky had become clearer and the rain had stopped. The Spaniard followed in suit, leaving paper notes on their table before walking out of the American diner. He strapped into his seat and drove onto the main highway once more, letting one hand steer the wheel while the other held on to a rather red faced Italian nation's hand.

After an unsettling journey in which Spain and Romano nearly crashed into a truck driver that was half asleep and navigating the roads, the two decided to call it a day when they parked near a well kept inn in Alexandria. Night had fallen by then, so while the Italian ordered room service over the phone, his lover had kept himself busy by sneaking into the gift shop and buying a bouquet of delphiniums and gladioluses. Spain was a romantic man and loved to throw a bit of said element into the mix whenever he could, so when the time proved suitable for such pursuits then he'd entertain them as he pleased; truly a world class Latin blooded nation. The Spaniard swiftly placed the flowers into a vase and set them in the middle of their balcony table, arranging the décor until he was pleased with what he saw.

Romano walked outside and set their dishes and wine glasses on the table, never noticing the efflorescence until he looked up to toast with Spain. When he observed the coordination of orange and red flowers glowing vibrant due to the light of the candles, he felt the romantic ambience take its course on his system. Restraining a smile, the Italian narrowed his eyes and took a sip from his phial, observing the look of curiosity on Spain's face. The older nation couldn't take his partner's silence much longer and decided to speak after a few minutes of their dinner had been worn in.

"So? Do you like the flowers?" he inquired in a conversational tone, although he was truly quite curious as to how the younger man was feeling at that moment. Romano scraped the remaining contents of his meal into one bite, chewing a while before finally answering his anxious table mate.

"They're nice, I guess. I mean, I'm not acting girly or anything, but I… uh, appreciate the fucking gesture. Yeah," the Italian attempted to express, unsure of whether or not his true contentment could be gathered from that answer. Spain easily looked past the words and at Romano instead, taking in his appearance of a flushed face and downcast eyes. The evidence of certain flattery was so apparent that it made the Spaniard blush tenfold and grin like a mad man. Not that he wasn't already past that marker of love sick affliction.

"I'm glad you feel that way, mi querido. I wanted carnations or daisies or something, but the shop didn't have any. But that's okay; after all, I was aiming to impress you~!" Spain confessed, wiggling his eyebrows in such a preposterous way that Romano couldn't help but burst out uncontrollably raucous laughter, with the Spaniard following not long after. Both Mediterranean nations grinned at one another, silliness over taking their senses and reason as they entered the room. Wrapping his arms around the Italian from behind, Spain pulled Romano onto their bed, triggering more fits of giggles from the younger man.

"Ahahah~! St-Stop that, ba-astard!" Romano begged pointlessly, for he enjoyed the feeling of his lover's warmth positioned nearest to him and wouldn't have it any other way. Spain knew this well enough, which was why he continued to cuddle with the smaller personification just as much as he wished to. That, of course, meant he would snuggle Romano until the other was sick of him, and such instances were a rarity those days. At that point in time, Spain knew that he was a very happy, lucky, and love struck being that was fortunate enough to have someone like the Southern Italian by his side.

Once about twenty minutes of fondles and caressing had passed, Spain felt the urge to brush his teeth and strip for bed. Their room's bathroom had two sinks—it was a couple's suite, much to Romano's utter mortification—so the Spaniard was overjoyed when he and the younger nation stood side by side, scrubbing their gums in unison. While one found the entire display to be disgustingly cliché, the other saw it as a sort of couple's routine and thought it was too adorable to be true. Romano sensed his companion's giddiness and blushed deeply as his annoyance overran all traces of embarrassment.

"Hey bastard, what are you staring at?" the Italian questioned, eyeing Spain nervously as the blushing Spaniard kept his lips in fixed grin. The bronzed nation shook his head— still smiling bright as ever— and cleaned his wet face with a towel.

"I was going to say 'you' only, but I think I'd get hit for that. SO I guess a better way to answer would be 'the cute way you brush your teeth' or something. Whatever satisfies you, Lovi~!" Romano simply rolled his eyes at the response and removed his clothing, lying in their bed afterwards. Following in the younger man's actions aforementioned, Spain wriggled closer to him on his side and allowed sleep to overtake his body. Suddenly, he heard a rough cough and met Romano's shaded eyes; for the room was pitch black by then.

"Um, I've been meaning to ask you something for awhile now… but I'm not sure if I should," the personification admitted [albeit nervously] and he slowly tucked his face under the covers, out of sight from Spain's confused expression. "I-I mean, it's not even any of my business, or something, so it shouldn't really matter. And, well, it's something of… in the past, I guess…"

"But you still want to ask?" the Spaniard suggested, wondering how such an inquiry could have Romano hiding under the futon. Then again— as he had briefly added— Romano had always felt embarrassed by casual and intimate things, so perhaps that was the present case. Re-aligning his hazel green gaze with Spain's emerald one, the Italian furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation as inner turmoil took place within his consciences.

"Um… I guess it's kind of… awkward? Or um..," Romano stated, albeit tense and hesitantly. By then the stuttering, nearly speechless personification felt an extreme blush present itself onto his cheeks, and he could practically feel the Spanish nation's adoring [and possessive] stare. I bet that bastard is thinking thoughtful, loving, creepy things. I can practically hear his thoughts. And, of course, the Italian was accurately on-the-mark with his suspicions.

"Lovino Vargas, you can ask me about anything, anything from the past, and I would never get mad at you. It's mostly because you're adorable, and I love you, and a lot of important things from back then involved you too. Not all of it, but still some," Spain reassured, a bit bothered by the thought of a relationship where one participant was too embarrassed/scared/nervous to ask the other questions. Romano's breath hitched when the Spanish nation used his full name, and his cheeks heated so much that he felt the need to pass out; the Italian was positive that he would never get tired of hearing his intimate name come from that Spanish voice.

"B-But this is… more personal, I guess."

"Even better, mi corazón. It means that you get to know more things about me… Well, the things you don't already know." The Spaniard used his fingers to lightly pinch Romano's pink cheeks, laughing a little when the younger man reacted with a pout. "I love getting closer to you, and that's probably why you should excuse my constant questions too!" Rolling his eyes, the smaller country—with pursed lips and a crimson demeanor—decided to voice his feelings, even if his hard exterior was shattered from it. In the end, Romano enjoyed getting closer to Spain as well; he just didn't understand how to voice his emotions without stuttering and being difficult. He supposed it was only normal since men didn't express their emotions… well, normal ones didn't. The Spaniard was one of the few exceptions, besides his brother, France, Denmark, and a few other mentionable nations. Then again, they were idiots, so that was something Romano could differentiate between he and the emphatic personifications.

"Uh, okay then. S-So… your first person you were with in that sense… Who was it? I-I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything if you don't want to even though you said you would because I honestly don't mind if you don't tell me… I was just curious; that's all." The Italian decided to avoid using the word "self-conscious", for it made him feel weak simply from mentally admitting that. He noticed Spain's shoulder tense and— when finally looking into the older man's eyes—registered his darkened expression. However, it was not one of anger, but rather, a look of ancient sorrow, churning within those dark green irises of his. Romano immediately regretted the question and felt torn as Spain's agonized gaze stayed locked with his own. Seconds that felt like minutes had passed, when finally, the Spaniard took a deep breath and moved his face even closer to Romano's while their warm breaths mingled in the small space between them.

"Oh Lovino." Spain smiled sadly, a gleam of apotheosis in his eyes, and gently cupped the younger personification's cheek with his hand. "Amorcito, I know that these past decades you have experienced things that I wish you never did. Things I wanted to shelter and shield you from. But it's the fate of us nations, so it was bound to happen eventually. Still, before you came under my care— during the time when abuelo Roma was still around—other territories invaded smaller ones… in horrible, inhumane ways. Abusive ways." The bronze-skinned Spanish man let out a shaky sigh, his skin tingling with uneasy nerves, before speaking once more.

"It was primitive, really. But it was the only way we knew how to take over another. Around the time when those vile methods were still being used, I was populated mostly by Iberians and Celts, if memory serves well. Oh, and the Basques too. At the time, I was about the physical size of a thirteen year old human child. Around the time Roma Antigua nearly finished conquering the entire peninsula, a strong power from the south approached me a-and..," Spain hesitated momentarily, and although he tried to put on the least tortured smile that he could, by then, his resolve started to fade. Romano felt his blood run cold, and the hairs at the back of his neck stood up. The Italian prayed that his lover wouldn't say what he thought would be said.

"How should I put this lightly? He attempted to attack my people. Granted, he did get pretty far, with pillage and rape and whatnot, but I suppose the most damage went to m-myself… In a more physical way, I guess. It was not just an attempted attack, but a partly successful invasion as well. A-And of course, he used the old methods, because he was a barbarian at heart." Spain stated in an acidic tone. Both of the men's uncertain eyes surveyed one another until the truth set itself deep into the recesses of Romano's mind; it made his eyes widen significantly. His first reaction was one of horror, then anger, but mostly, the younger nation had no idea he had made Spain answer such a difficult question. He could see the pain, feel his quickened heart rate, and hear the tremors in his voice.

The Spaniard apprehended the distress overwhelming Romano and wondered whether telling the Italian was a good idea. True, he had never told another soul about what had happened centuries ago and it wasn't exactly an easy occurrence to talk about, mainly because of the horrific nature and vivid memories the topic presented in his mind. But if it meant getting closer to Romano, the one and only love of his life and meaning of his existence, then Spain would tell him everything. And he hoped that the younger man would do the same. All of the sudden, Spain noticed that Romano's eyes were glistening, and it was then that he realized the Italian was nearly driven to tears. Expecting a distraught response, the Spanish country—with evident anxiousness on his features— found himself in the embrace of a heavily blushing Italian.

"L-Lovi-"

"Did you have anyone else after that?" Romano questioned sharply, receiving quick head shakes from Spain.

"N-No! After that event, I swore to myself… Well, I don't know. I just didn't want anything to do with activities like that." Until I met you, of course, the Spanish nation admitted to himself.

"Then that isn't your first person, you stupid bastard; it's me! Because you love me and I love you, and we had sex or made love or whatever, and it was consensual, and mutual, and fucking amazing, and, and!" Romano was cut off when Spain's lips captured his into a soft, loving, tender kiss. Words weren't need for either of them, just the communication of their true feelings was enough. Yes, it was a relationship that was bound to be an emotional roller coaster. Did they care? Not in the least.

"I love you," the Spanish man muttered against Romano's lips, pulling away for a moment to admire his thoughtful beloved. "Eres mi vida, Lovino. You are the only person that I'll make mine. And I'm yours. Te adoro~" Romano frowned, blinked the watery liquid threatening to pour from his eyes away, and then planted a short kiss on the older nation's lips. Spain, momentarily stunned as he was, felt his face heat within seconds, followed by a blinding smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"That was my way of telling you to shut the hell up, ba- Antonio," the Italian mumbled in defeat, a sour pout remaining on his face. Spain laughed and allowed his lips to rest on Romano's temple, petting the younger man's auburn hair with articulate strokes.

"I'm the luckiest person in the world."

"Damn straight you are." Closing his eyes while exhaustion took over, Romano looked up at his lover one last time that night with the most enthusiastic half-smile he could manage. "A-And, I guess I am too."

Remember, chapters that end with sleeping/cuddling are my favourite ;D

Clarification time: Spain thinks that Romano is a virgin because he saw his blood in the bed after they made love. Now, it's true that anal sex not done correctly [or too rough or you slipped or something] can result in a LITTLE bit of blood, which is fine. It doesn't, however, mean that anal sex when you're a virgin makes you bleed once you lose it; this was a misconception on Spain's part. Basically, it's an educated guess of his. I made him think this because Spain isn't necessarily fully informed on these sorts of matters, and having him think this is only for the sake of accuracy.

ALSO, just for those that don't get it, Spain was raped [I didn't specify who so I'll leave it to your imaginations]. And of course I'm putting this in a serious light, because rape isn't a joke... Anyways, my friend's head canon is that back in the day, sexual contact [be it penetration or otherwise] was used as a way of invading others [it's not used anymore though]. I decided that this story needed a little bit of seriousness, so I went with this.

LASTLY, I didn't make them use condoms when they had intercourse because I don't think nations can get STDs [for everyone else: USE PROTECTION]. Also, because they are not human, they don't suffer heavily from sexual urges and the like, and could easily ignore them [because France is FRANCE, he cultivates in it, which is fine, to be perfectly honest. we still love the guy].

Okay I apologize for the long author's note, but I felt that these needed to be adressed; I'll be happy again~ nwn Thanks to all those reviewing readers, silent readers, and creeping readers~! =w=