Some advice to all of you: If you're writing a request fic, NEVER ask your friend if they'd like to make a request if they are capable of choosing a pairing just because they KNOW you don't like it.

Sigh... without further ado, here's the SpaMex chapter as requested by Epic F. Awesomesauce. -_-

Song: A Girl Worth Fighting For

"Get off my back, España!" Mexico shouted angrily, brushing off her boyfriend's hand.

Spain sighed and tried to rein in his temper. The day had started off with such promise. Mexico had actually gotten a vacation for the whole week (as the hardest working country, this was a somewhat miraculous event) and they'd planned to spend it together. Now it seemed that the week wouldn't be as blissful as he'd planned.

"Maria, por favor, can't we talk about this?" he pleaded.

"There's nothing to say!"

"You punched Gilbert in the face for no reason." Earlier that day Spain had gotten a call from Germany. Apparently Prussia was sporting a lovely black eye and bloody nose. He'd been surprised to learn that they'd been caused by Mexico. She'd gone out that morning, so she said, to do some shopping and had returned as calmly as she had left.

"I don't know what mein bruder did," Germany had said. "But I'm calling to apologize to Mexico for whatever it was." In the background he'd heard Prussia complaining about how he'd done nothing wrong.

Of course, Spain had asked her why she'd punched one of his best friends. He knew that Prussia could by trying on one's nerves and that his sweetheart had yet to gain the virtue of patience. Mexico's reply was unexpected. "He did nothing to me."

Aaaaand it had gone downhill from there.

Mexico snatched a tomato from a bowl on the kitchen counter (she, naturally, shared his love for them) and stalked out of the kitchen. Spain followed her wearily, grabbing her arm again.

"Let go!"

"Querida, por favor-"

"Yazque!"

He bit back a groan. Mexico only reverted to Nahuatl when she was truly angry. "I just want to understand why you did this! Talk to me, mi amor."

Mexico took a vicious bite out of her tomato and said nothing. As the red juice ran down her chin and hands Spain was suddenly reminded of her father, the Aztec Empire, and his bloodthirsty habits. To be sure, at the time he'd been just as greedy, but his bloodlust hadn't been quite as bad. She stared at him, the only light in the hallway coming from a high window that illuminated half of her face. She watched him while she finished the fruit in silence before wiping her mouth with her arm.

"I am no longer your colony," she finally said, a bit calmer. "I don't answer to you for my actions, or anyone else. Just stay outta my damn business, idiota."

Something inside Spain snapped and he glared at her. "Dios! Why is it always this way with you?! You're worse than Lovina sometimes!"

"ExCUSE me?!" Mexico shrieked. Her previous anger returned in full force. "Did you actually compare me to Lovina?!"

Ah, it seemed that he'd made an error. For some absurd reason Maria harbored the suspicion that Spain prefered Lovina's company or, even more ridiculous, that he actually loved the South Italian. He'd been tempted to laugh when she'd admitted it soon after they'd began dating and would have if not for her serious expression. South Italy was, of course, interesting and fiery and he'd known her ever since she was a child but honestly, they were siblings.

"Lo siento, I didn't mean-"

"I know exactly what you meant!" She turned her back on him and opened the door so viciously that the hinges squeaked in protest. "Go spend your time with that puta italiana!" She slammed the door behind her and it seemed as if the whole house shook from the force. Spain stood there, shell shocked, in the dim light of his hallway.

The day had started out with such promise.

America's house in Eastern Washington was surprisingly small. In fact, it wasn't even a house. It was a doublewide trailer, embedded deep in the ground to give it some security. To the right were some of the apple orchards that this state was famous for. Spain could see migrant workers, Mexico's citizens, collecting the harvest. The apples were large and hung thickly on the boughs of the small trees. The pickers collected them in large bins with the words Douglas Fruit painted on the sides.

Spain turned his attention back to the house. The white paint was peeling but the small garden around the perimeter was well tended. He clutched the bouquet in his hand and tried to breathe evenly. Of course, he'd gone after Mexico. However, she had not returned to her own country and a quick word with her boss revealed her to be in her brother's country. Another chat with America's housekeeper in Washington D.C. led him here, to the American North West.

He reached out and knocked on the door three times. There was a pregnant pause before he heard sounds of someone walking towards the door. There was a quiet click and it was opened, America on the other side. The taller male was laughing from some joke and cast a friendly glance upon Spain before he realized who it was. Then his face turned stony and unwelcome. "Oh. It's you."

The steely blue eyes and icy tone made Spain shiver. "Yes, I was wondering if you'd seen Mexico recently?" he asked.

"Yeah. She came here with me for a couple of days. She's just inside." America jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Spain tried to peek around him but he was too bulky and it was almost as if he leaned so as to block the Spaniard's view.

"That's good! …Can I see her?"

America shook his head and started to close the door. "She doesn't want to see you."

Spain caught the door and wedged his foot in the doorframe. "Wait! I came to apologize!"

"Apology unaccepted!"

"Please! I just want to-"

"Go away!"

America's hand shot out and shoved Spain's chest with considerable force. Spain yelped as he flew several feet in the air and landed on his back with a painful thud. His flowers were, thankfully, undamaged. His mild temper flared up again and he sat up abruptly. Glaring green eyes met blue ones and a contest of wills (read as: a staring contest) began. America scowled in frustration when he lost and looked like he was about to slam the door shut. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes and instead he stalked towards Spain.

Spain scrambled to his feet and endeavored to get his breath back, the arid climate making it difficult (What was up with that, wasn't Washington supposed to have a lot of rain?). He really hoped America wouldn't start a fight. He could manage his way around a brawl but Dios, that kid was strong.

The American paused a foot away from him and looked down at the ground. To Spain's surprise, his expression changed from angry to sulky and defiant. "Ya wanna know why Maria hit Prussia?" America asked jerkily. Spain, taken aback but still curious, nodded quickly. "You know who Canada is, right?"

Again Spain nodded. Unlike most nations he recognized the shy, quiet country. Madeline Williams had been introduced to him by France after she'd become his colony.

"Well, a couple of months ago she started dating Prussia." Spain's eyebrows shot up in surprise but he stayed silent. "They seemed to be really happy, Maria and I were glad that she seemed to be more confident and outgoing. Then, a few days ago, Maria overheard Prussia talking to a couple of his buddies at one of your stores. He was talking 'bout…" America gulped angrily and kicked at a rock at his feet. "About how easy it'd been to get Maddie to date him and how he hoped she wouldn't be a 'drama queen' when he broke up with her later. So Maria… you know." His voice cracked and he swiped at his eyes with one hand.

Spain wasn't shocked by this. He'd known that Prussia maintained an old fashioned disrespect for women, prided in it, and was something of a Casanova. It also explained Mexico's actions and justified them.

"Antonio?"

The men jumped in surprise and looked back at the trailer. Mexico was standing in the doorway, clad only in grey sweats and a large sweatshirt patterned after her flag. She looked from one country to another, her eyes widening in amazement. "Spain, what are you doing here?" she finally queried.

Spain cleared his throat and walked towards her. America made no move to stop him, apparently he wanted to see Mexico's reaction before kicking him over the border. His pace quickened to a run and he almost crashed into Mexico in his haste. He thrust the flowers under her nose and started rambling. "Lo siento, lo siento! Mi amor, mi corazon, I was stupid. I should have known you had a good reason for doing what you did. I should have known not to compare to anyone when you are completely unique. There is no one as precious to me as you are. Por favor, perdóname. I know I can be thick sometimes, but I never meant to hurt you. I will go anywhere, do anything to make it up to you. I-"

His speech was cut off by a brief kiss on his cheek. He looked at Mexico hopefully but she had looked down at the flowers. They were bright pink Dahlias, her favorite. Her long, black eyelashes fluttered up at him and her dark chocolate eyes peeked out between them.

"...Te perdono."

Gah! So this ended up being way too fluffy. I was planning on it being really sad and angsty, but I couldn't do that to my OC! ;_; (Plus Epic threatened to write a sad AusHun story if I did.) Meh, my Mesoamerican ancestors are probably rolling in their graves... And I don't think Prussia would usually be that big of a jerk, but I also think he's capable of it. It's just the time period he grew up in, ya know?

Hey, Epic, did you catch the anti-Spamano? Didja, didja? :D