Romano knew that something was going to go terribly wrong when Prussia answered the door.

"Hey Romano! How's it going?" Prussia grinned down at him. "Aw, did you get all dressed up for your date? Cute! Kesesese~!"

Romano stared blankly at him for a moment completely dumbfounded. Before Romano could think of a retort, (or punch Prussia in the face) France had grabbed Prussia by the ear. "Prussia! What're you doing?" He asked, looking annoyed.

Prussia yelped. "Ow! I'm answering the door, what does it look like? Not awesome! Leggo my ear!"

France scowled at him. "You were supposed to let Spain answer the door! Really, do you 'ave a single romantic bone in your body?"

"I do so!"

"Really? When's ze last time you've even been on a date?"

Prussia scowled at him. "Hey, The Awesome Me goes on plenty of dates, arschloch!"

"With who, your bird?"

"Shut up!"

Finally, Romano found his voice again. "What the hell are you bastards doing here?" He hissed weakly.

They both looked up, as if just remembering that he was there. France smiled at him. "Oh, don't mind us!" He insisted. "We were just leaving!"

Prussia gave him a distressed look. "We were? What? Aw, come on France, I wanted to stay and see if they would start fu—"

France yanked him through the doorway and started dragging him off. He turned and smiled at Romano, who shuddered slightly. "Well, 'ave fun, mon cher~!" He called. Then they were both gone.

Romano blinked. Then he scowled and strode into the front room. "Idioti," he mumbled.

Spain's house was huge. No, huge didn't even begin to describe it. It was gigantic, colossal, tremendous, every other word Romano could think of. How he'd ever managed to find his way around this damn place when he was a child, he never knew. He had no idea how many floors there were. At least three. Well, that's the highest Romano ever dared to climb anyway. That was about where the bedrooms were. There was a kitchen on the first floor, and a large garden out behind the house. If Romano tried to find anywhere else in the house, he'd end up lost for hours. He still couldn't quite locate the bathrooms.

"Hey bastard!" Romano called. "I'm here!" He was met with a long silence. He frowned. "Spain!" He called louder. "Spain, I'm here!" Another pause. "Damn it Spain," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Where the hell—?"

"Romano~!"

Suddenly a pair of muscular arms wrapped themselves around Romano's stomach, causing him to yelp. "Romano, there you are!" Spain said brightly, grinning against the top of Romano's head. "How've you been?"

Romano swallowed quickly, feeling his face getting warm again. He tried to pry Spain's arms off of him. "B-Bastard," he spat, "it's been five hours. Nothing has changed, idiot. Except maybe you got stupider. Let go!"

Romano could feel him pouting on the top of his head. "Aww, that was mean, Romano. I'm just worried about you is all!"

Finally, Romano managed to loosen Spain's death-grip and spun around furiously. Spain just smiled happily at him. Romano glared back, glancing up at his hair. Spain had tried to comb it through. No, not Spain. Spain never did that. Probably one of his bastard friends.

He was also wearing a nice shirt. Romano wasn't sure why, but he did look really good in it. It contrasted with his tanned muscular—A-ACK, STOP THAT! He thought frantically, shaking his head. "R-Right, so let's start eating," he stammered quickly, shoving past Spain and toward the kitchen.

Spain nodded. "¡Vale! But I don't think the food is quite ready yet."

Romano sighed and strode into the kitchen. He could smell pasta, and paella, and, of course, tomatoes. His mouth was watering already. "R-Right, well, hurry up with the food," he murmured.

Spain grinned at him, slipping past him. "¡Un momento, por favor!" He strode over to the stove and grabbed a bright pink apron off of the nearby countertop, slipping it over his head.

Romano rolled his eyes and sat down at the nearby table. "Isn't that Belgium's?" He asked dryly, eyeing the apron disdainfully.

Spain nodded. "Sí, she let me borrow it!"

"…Why?"

Spain laughed. "To keep myself from getting food on my shirt!" He replied, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Romano looked at him for a second. "Uh…right…" he mumbled slowly. He yawned.

"So Romano, how're you feeling?"

Romano glanced up at him again. For once, his goofy smile was gone, replaced with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're not still feeling sick?"

Romano stared at him for a moment. He couldn't be angry at Spain. Not when he was just worried about him. "Ugh, I feel fine. Stop worrying. Idiot," he finished, turning away and staring at the floor.

Spain smiled. "Well, alright Romano." He turned and continued cooking. "So I'm making some pasta, some paella, a little bit of gazpacho, and—

Thud

Romano stiffened and sat up. "What the hell was that?"

Spain glanced up, frowning. "Huh, it sounds like something fell…" he murmured. He shrugged and continued cooking.

…

"Scheiße, you're standing on my foot."

"No I am not! Ow, get your elbow off of my 'ead!"

"H-Hey, move over, you're going to crush Gilbird!"

"S-Stop pulling on my 'air!"

The two intruders scrambled quickly to their feet, dusting themselves off ad glancing around. Prussia leaned out the window they had just scrambled through and grinned down at the figure standing below. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but thanks for the help!" He half whispered, half shouted down.

"Just get some good pictures or I'll smash in your skull," Hungary replied crossly, folding her arms across her chest. "Really, making a poor girl drive all the way out here—"

"Ja, ja, whatever." Prussia ducked back inside before Hungary could finish berating him. "So, France, any idea where we are?"

France nodded. "Oui, we should be right above Spain's dining room. Let's just go find the stairs. They should be just below us…"

They crept out the door, both grinning. "Say France, have I ever told you how awesome you are? I mean, of course, not as awesome as me, but…"

…

"Alright, Romano, I'm finished!"

Romano sat up, his mouth starting to water. "Right, well, let's eat then, damn it." He grabbed a plate.

"Nuh uh, not yet mi Romano!" Spain replied, smile just getting bigger. "I thought we could eat in the dining room!"

Romano gave him a blank look. "The…dining room?"

Spain nodded. "Yeah, the dining room!" He answered, grabbing the several plates and started walking into the next room. "You know the one! Where you broke that vase then drew several pictures of me impaled on a sword on the wall when you were little! Don't you remember? Oh, could you grab the paella?"

Romano coughed uncomfortably. "E-Err, right, sure. I remember." Sort of. Not really, he added in the back of his mind. There's a dining room? He grabbed the plate of paella and started walking quickly after the Spaniard.

The food smelled delicious. Romano could feel his stomach growling hungrily. Spain was an amazing cook, Romano always had to admit. But then again, he did have to cook for himself and Romano for a while. Since Romano was a terrible cook as a child. And was clumsy enough to keep burning himself on the hot stove anyway.

Romano tried to watch all the rooms they passed through, in case he needed a quick getaway. They went right, through a long hallway full of old statues, left through a small room with a small desk and a bookcase, straight through what looked to be a large sitting room, right, left, straight, left, left again, Romano was starting to get dizzy, right, left, right—

Suddenly, the two of them were in what seemed to be a small banquet hall. Or so Romano assumed. He didn't go into those quite that often. He stared around in awe. "When the hell did this get here?" He asked.

Spain laughed. "No sé, mi amigo. I don't remember how old this house is!" He laughed and set the food he was carrying on the small ornate table near the middle of the room. He glanced over at Romano. Romano was still staring blankly around, eyes wide. Spain just chuckled. "Aw, Romano, you are just so cute~!" He grabbed Romano's arm and led him over to the table.

Romano took a moment before those words sunk in. "I-I'm not cute, damn it!" He snapped quickly, feeling his face beginning to get warm again. He yanked his arm away. And suddenly, the plate of paella he was holding slipped out of his hands. With a loud clatter, it fell to the floor.

Romano flinched. "S-Shit…" he mumbled weakly after a second.

Spain looked down at the mess on the floor. Then he sighed. "Err, un momento, Romano. Let me just grab a mop or something." He gave Romano a small smile.

Romano sighed, turning away. "Y-Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, you go do that…"

Spain walked briskly out of the room.

Romano stared after him. Then he groaned, sitting down on the chair nearby. Why did he have to go and do that? Damn it! And for once he was trying to be nice to the bastard! And he had to go and destroy Spain's homemade food. Why did he always have to go and ruin everything?

And worse than that, Spain had just sighed. Because by now, he had gotten used to the fact that no matter what Romano did, he was going to end up destroying it anyway…

…

"Let me see, where's that mop gone off to?" Spain wondered, looking through his closet and running his hands through his hair. He sighed again. He didn't mind the paella that much to be honest. He was just sad that Romano wouldn't be able to eat any of it. Poor Romano…

"Is this what you're looking for?"

Suddenly a mop was being shoved into Spain's face. Spain looked up at the grinning albino. He smiled. "Gracias Prussia!" He replied grabbing it and turning back toward the other room.

Prussia nodded. "You're welcome." He pursed his lips. "So what do you even need that for? Did Romano break something again?" He sniggered a bit.

Spain blinked, then frowned at Prussia. "It's not that big of a deal," he replied slowly. "Romano just dropped some paella."

Prussia rolled his eyes. "Ja, sure, whatever."

Spain turned away again and paused. France just smiled at him. "Bonjour~!"

Spain laughed. "Wow, you were sure being quiet! And here I thought you both had left!"

France nodded. "So 'ow is your dinner coming along?" He asked, pretending to sound uninterested.

Spain sighed. "It alright so far. Romano just—"

France scoffed at him. "Just alright? Come on, Spain, where is zat Spanish 'passion' you're always acting so proud of?"

Spain tilted his head, looking almost like a confused puppy. "Huh?"

France rolled his eyes. "Don't you remember? I thought you were going to teach Romano all you know about l'amour~!"

Spain thought for a second. "L'amour, l'amour…Oh, right, that's love!" He snapped his fingers. France rolled his eyes as Spain continued talking. "You're right! Wow, I can't believe I almost forgot! Thanks guys!"

"No problem…" France replied. "Now, go find some romantic things to show Romano!" He gently pushed Spain through a nearby doorway. "Oh, and don't tell 'im that you're trying to show 'im 'ow to be romantic. You know 'ow self conscious zat poor boy can get~!"

Spain smiled. "Oh, right! Okay, thanks France!" He ran off.

Prussia snickered. "This is going to be awesome." He snuck quietly toward the dining room. "Just give me a sec to put another camera in the kitchen. And the bedroom…"

…

Romano stared blankly at the doorway, his head resting on the table. How long does it take to grab a mop? He wondered. Ugh, maybe the idiot got lost. He sniggered. It would be like that bastard to get lost in his own house. Or maybe France stole his mop and he's out looking for it.

Or maybe he left.

Romano blinked at that last thought, startled. What if he had left? He sat up. Spain could've gotten tired of Romano. It wouldn't be that surprising. He could've finally figured out that Romano wasn't worth the constant swearing, and the insults, and the destruction. Hell, Romano was surprised he had taken this long to figure it out. He could've just bailed on the date…

Romano shook his head. Spain wouldn't do that, he's too stupid, he reprimanded himself. A-And it's not a date, idiot.

"Romano!"

Romano jumped at the sound of Spain's voice. He almost let out a sigh of relief, but instead chose to just turn around and yell at him. "Jesus, Spain what the hell…?" He trailed off slowly as Spain started placing candles in the middle of the table. "What took you…so… What are you doing?"

Spain just chuckled. "Nothing, mi querido~!" He replied, lighting the candle with a flourish. "There! Perfect!"

Romano scowled. "What did you just call me?"

"Nothing~!" He set out a few plates of food. "Okay, here you go! Eat up!" He paused, as if just thinking of something. "No, wait!" He grabbed Romano's chair and gently pushed it in. "There!"

Romano glared up at him. "What're you doing?" He asked slowly, eyes narrowed.

Spain just smiled down at him. "Aww, Romano, you are just so cute~!" He bent down and gave him a big hug. "This is going to be fun!"

Romano glared up at him, ignoring his once-again blushing face. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

Spain didn't answer, instead sitting down in the chair across the table. "Nothing~!"

Romano stared at him suspiciously. When Spain didn't say anything else, Romano slowly started eating.

Spain couldn't help but grin at the look on Romano's face. Romano was forcing himself to scowl. Struggling very hard to avoid smiling. Spain continued smiling at the cute look on his face, until finally Romano glared up at him. "What the hell is with that look, bastard?

Spain opened his mouth to answer. Then he thought for a second. Romantic, he thought. What should I say to sound romantic? He glanced around, thinking.

Prussia and France waved frantically in the doorway. Spain almost waved back, before Prussia held up a small sign.

Compliment him, arschloch!

Spain blinked. Then he grinned. "Oh, okay!" He called to Prussia. Prussia cursed and ducked behind the doorway

Romano blinked. "What?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Romano, you're outfit looks so cute~!"

Romano glanced back at him. "…Huh? Oh, right. Veneziano made me buy this. I just wanted to wear jeans and shit. He's such an idiot." He shrugged and continued eating.

Spain's face fell slightly. That wasn't such a romantic conversation. Come on, Spain, you're going to ruin this, he told himself, thinking hard. I need another romantic thing to say. Come on, it's to help Romano. He started thinking hard. He looked up at France and Prussia. Prussia scribbled something else on the sign.

Tell him his eyes are pretty! West says that works on Italy~

"Uh, Romano, you're eyes are beautiful!" Spain declared.

Romano blinked. "What?" he looked over his shoulder, as France and Prussia ducked out of site again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Spain frowned. "Aw, you were supposed to get happy. That makes Italy happy!"

Romano looked up. Then he seemed to bristle. "What the hell? What's that supposed to mean you stupid bastard?"

Spain grimaced slightly. This isn't working, he thought. He looked up at the doorway again. France had written something else. Spain squinted, trying to read France's loopy handwriting.

"Romano," He read aloud. "You are sexy. I want to…do you on the table…?"

Romano jerked and started choking. He gasped, grabbing his chest. After a moment, he forced the food down his throat. "W-What?" He sputtered.

Suddenly Spain was standing over him. "Oh my gosh Romano are you okay?" He asked frantically, bending down and grabbing his shoulder.

Romano coughed again, glaring up at him. "S-Shut up!" He spat angrily. "W-What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid bastard?"

Spain reached out and stroked his cheek. "I-I'm sorry mi querido. Are you okay?"

Romano felt his heart suddenly leap into his throat. "W-Wha…?" He breathed. He shook his head weakly. "I-I'm…I'm fine…" he stammered weakly.

Spain gave a relieved sigh. "Oh, good…" he murmured, smiling softly at the stunned Italian.

Romano opened and shut his mouth, trying desperately to make words come out. "I-I…u-uh…w-w-wha…?" He managed to stammer.

Spain leaned closer. "Good…" he repeated.

Romano just stared at him. What's happening? He thought hazily. Spain just continued smiling at him, leaning closer…

Then suddenly his lips were against Romano's. Romano stiffened, eyes getting wide enough he thought they'd pop out of their sockets. He couldn't breathe. And not just because Spain was probably cutting off his airway. W-What's happening? He thought weakly. Why am I…? Why does this feel…good…?

France and Prussia high fived in the next room.

Romano's eyes fell shut. He leaned closer, feeling Spain wrap his muscular arms around him. Shit, he thought frantically. Shit shit shit shit shit. He tried to move to, well, do something, but his body didn't seem to want to obey. He just wanted to sit there forever.

There was a loud clatter as Hungary's camera fell out of Prussia's pocket.

Romano's eyes flew open. It was as if he'd just snapped out of a trance. He yelped and elbowed Spain in the stomach. "WHAT THE F*CKING HELL ARE YOU DOING?" he screamed, mortified.

Spain gasped slightly, grabbing his stomach. Romano glared at him, face practically on fire. He spun around to face the two reaching for the now-broken camera. "AND WHY THE F*CK ARE YOU TWO HERE?"

Prussia coughed. "M-Moral support?"

"Oui, w-we were just—"

"NO! SHUT UP!" He spun around toward the Spaniard. "W-What the hell was that you idiot?" He spat.

Spain looked up at him, teary-eyed. "I-I was just trying to help!"

Romano blinked. "Help with what?" He growled furiously.

"W-Well, France said that you needed help learning how to be all romantic for your dates and stuff!" He replied. France flinched and Prussia started frantically waving Spain down. Spain continued. "S-So I was just trying to help you. Y-Y'know, demonstrating, so you'd know and…" He trailed off.

Romano froze. He stared at him for a second, words sinking in. Demonstrating. "So…that wasn't real…?" He murmured softly.

Spain blinked. "W-What do you mean Romano?"

Romano stood there. Suddenly his chest felt hollow. "Oh," he mumbled almost in a whisper.

They stood there for a moment. Then slowly Romano turned and began walking. Spain straightened up. "Romano?" He asked. Romano ignored him and continued walking. First a right, then a left, another left, go straight through the next room…

"Romano, what's wrong?"

Romano clenched his jaw, ignoring the tears that threatened to stream down his face. Another left, a right, straight, left, right…

Spain caught up to Romano as they entered the entrance hall. "Romano where are you—?"

Romano spun around and punched him as hard as he could, sending him reeling backward. "GET THE F*CKING HELL AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed as loud as he could. "YOU STUPID, WORTHLESS, PATHETIC BASTARD! I HATE YOU!" He turned, stepped outside, and slammed the door shut behind him.

And he ran home, not once looking back.

¡Vale! ~ Okay!

Idioti ~ idiots

Mi querido ~ my dear

Wah, I really don't know why I take so long with each chapter! I blame you, Rachel. Anyway, kinda sad chapter. Sorry if I crushed any dreams. Rachel.

Well, I'll try to work on the next chapter a little faster~