AN:I am really sorry that this is so late. Life has been shitty and I haven't had the drive or time to write. Hopefully that will change soon. I've had half of this written since September too...sometimes things just don't work out. Life surprises you and it sucks ass.
I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter 5: Two Weeks and One Day: Part II
"Romano-kun, I know you are in there. Please come out. We have a few things to discuss before you meet your brother and Spain."
Romano groaned and pulled his knees closer to his chest. "Go away!" he mumbled, pouting, "I don't want to see them."
Japan sighed softly and took a step back. The southern half of Italy was always more difficult to read but Japan knew that he needed to be direct if he wanted Romano to ever leave the basement room. Japan prayed silently that Romano would somehow see the truth and listen. Ignoring his normal methods, Japan clearly stated, "They know you are here. If you don't come up they will try and find you."
The Italian sighed and loosened his hold on his legs. They fell off the box and onto the floor. "Tell them I'm sick," he mumbled out. Japan had to strain to hear him.
"Germany-san has already done that," Japan responded. He slowly opened the door and it swung wide. Romano could barely be made out in the dark storage room, sitting on top of a large box. "Please come speak to them, if only for a few minutes. Your brother is worried."
Romano grumbled as he dragged himself to the door. Japan noticed a faint red ringed his eyes when he walked into the light. The Italian stood before him for a moment before swiping vigorously at his nose and muttered, "Fine, I'll come. But only to make that baby shut up." He pushed past Japan and walked down the hall.
"Please remember that Germany-san told the guests that you are sick, so feigning a headache may make things easier."
"Make what easier?"
"Excusing yourself from the room...if you so need. I don't mean to presume that you-"
"I can take care of myself!" roared Romano as he wheeled around. He glared darkly at Japan, but his red-rimmed eyes ruined his attempt at intimidation . "I'm not a whiny baby like my brother!"
Japan put his hands up and calmly said, "I did not mean to imply that you are, Romano-kun. Please, I just wish to help make this meeting easier for everyone."
"It would be easier if they had just stayed away," Romano mumbled as he dragged himself up the stairs. Japan couldn't agree more.
"-and America gave us a personal tour! It was really interesting, but I didn't want to get in the water. He said something about shark attacks and I didn't want to see any of those! But then he led us to this place where they made great mango smoothies-we must have had three each that day-and then for dinner that night we went further west and-" North Italy had pulled himself together from crying over his brother only moments ago and instantly started running his mouth. He energetically retold the stories of Spain's and his adventures for the past month, but Germany had already tuned him out by the time he mentioned the city of Chicago. That was when Spain had wrapped his arm around the other Mediterranean nation's waist.
Italy kept telling his story as the German looked down into his empty coffee cup. If only it was a can of beer instead...Prussia had always kept the house alcohol reserves full. Even if he had bought all the booze with money stolen from Germany the man still missed it. He missed his brother. He missed when it was his arm that rested on the couch behind the Italian (never touching though, for that would have been too far for the German nation).
Germany's mind drifted further as Italy continued talking (he mentioned something about an angry Mexico and Guatemala). Did Prussia visit Spain and Italy during the past few weeks? Probably, he was best friends with the Spaniard. Prussia might even have moved into Spain's house while the pair was vacationing. The thought caused an angry heat to build in Germany's chest. Spain might have taken away the two people important to Germany.
"What on Earth am I doing?" the blond man thought as he shook his head to rid it of his jealous thoughts. He disguised it as a nod. Italy smiled at him and continued speaking. "It's not Spain's fault. It is childish of me to act like he has been planning to take them all away. They are not mine. They were never mine. It was their choice to leave." Another pang of emotion made Germany frown. He prided himself on his emotional control. There was no need to let such things ruin his concentration and behavior.
Italy interrupted his own story by screaming happily and jumping towards the hallway. Germany swiveled in place to see what the commotion was. He spotted South Italy, who barely had time to brace himself before his brother tackled him into a tight hug. "Romano! I haven't seen you in forever! Did you miss me?" the attacker excitedly asked. Romano's legs couldn't hold against North Italy and the pair fell back into the hallway with twin 'yelp's.
"I didn't miss you! Now get off!"
"Waah, fratello's so mean. But I know you missed me!" Romano struggled against the hold but North Italy had a surprisingly tight grip. "I know you missed me!" Italy repeated in a sing-song voice, smiling despite his brother's violent attempts to free himself. He tightened his hold and nuzzled his face into his sputtering brother's chest.
Romano managed to work an arm free and smirked at his success. He grabbed his brother's shoulder and tried to push him off, but a larger, tanner hand latched onto his wrist. The Italian froze as his eyes slowly drifted up the arm to lock with achingly familiar green eyes. "Lovi, what's wrong?" asked Spain, his voice surprisingly soft, "Germany said you were sick."
The Italian opened his mouth to respond but his throat suddenly went dry. His mind went blank as he froze, mouth still open in surprise. There were hundreds of things Romano wanted to say to Spain, hundreds of things he had pictured himself screaming, accusing him of, even physically throwing at the man. Yet words failed him as he stared into the other's face, into his earnest, honest eyes. He had expected him to look...meaner. Less like the Spain he knew for centuries. Romano had wanted him to look different, colder even, as if he had grown twisted by his choice between the brothers. Yet he was still Spain. He was still the innocent, sweet, caring Antonio that Romano had known. What was he supposed to say to the man that raised him, the man that cared for him, and the same man that ripped his heart out with a cheerful smile?
"Fratello?" asked North Italy, looking unsure. He leaned back and put a hand on Romano's forehead. "You don't look so good...you feel pretty warm too. Oh no! You're getting a fever!"
Romano pulled back and yanked his hand free of Spain's grasp. He stood and glared down at his brother, then said, "I'm fine, stupid. I was just...uh...sitting by the heater downstairs."
"Why would you do that, Lovi?" asked Spain as he stepped closer to Romano and placed a hand on his forehead. Romano flinched and took a step back. He didn't look up at Spain's face. The older nation tried to make him look up but Romano stepped back again and stared at the floor. "Lovi, look at me." Romano did not move. "Please?"
"Shut up and leave me alone, stupid bastard," Romano finally muttered before he pulled away and sat on the couch beside Germany. His face blazed red as he brought his legs up and wrapped his arms tightly around them. North Italy walked over and pushed his way onto the couch between Romano and Germany. The blond nation moved as far to the edge of the couch as he could. Italy ignored him and whined something inane but his brother ignored him.
"Romanooooo," Italy continued to whine as he pulled on Romano's sleeve. His brother refused to look at his pouting face. "Ro-ma-noooo. Why won't you look at me? Don't you like me? I haven't seen you in so long! I have so much to tell you about! Oh! America gave me a few games he said you would like, I can go get them! Then we can play and you will talk to me, right?" A hopeful look passed over Italy's face but fell when his brother refused to even look at him. Italy paused for a moment but then grinned and tried to change the subject. He pulled a few postcards out of his pocket and said, "Hey, fratello, look at this! I got this one when we stopped in New York and America showed up the Empire State Building! Then I got this one down in Cancun when we went to visit-"
Germany finally took pity on the nation and said, "Italy, your brother needs his rest. Perhaps you could make him an early dinner?" The excitable Italian smiled and nodded quickly.
"I would love to! Fratello, I'll make you the best pasta ever! A full stomach always puts you in a better mood," North Italy teased as he poked his brother in the stomach. Romano brushed him off with a scowl. Italy ignored him and dropped his tourist postcards on the table. He then skipped off straight to the kitchen, humming cheerfully, and Japan silently followed him. Romano muttered something about being bipolar and stood up.
Spain stood with him and followed Romano to the stairs. "Roma, where are you going? Italy's going to make you dinner. He'll be so unhappy if you leave first." He reached out and placed his hand on Romano's shoulder just as he started to climb the stairs. "Won't you stay and eat what your brother makes for you?"
The small man flinched back and spun around on the second step. He glared straight at Spain, standing eye level, and angrily shouted, "Leave me alone! I hate you!"
"R-Roma, why...what's wrong with-?"
"Go back home! No one wants you here!" With that Romano pivoted and ran up the stairs and out of sight in record time. Spain stood there, staring after him without a word, his face twisted in confusion. Why had Romano run away from him? His little Roma, who he had always protected and taken care of when he was sick...why would he run now? Wouldn't he want Spain to help take care of him like he always had? Why wouldn't he want his big brother's help? Spain didn't know. Nothing had changed since he had last seen Romano...nothing had changed but...
Romano's raised voice had been heard from the kitchen. Italy looked back into the living room but Japan called him back. "Your brother is just tired," he reasoned, "He only says such things out of exhaustion." The Italian smiled and nodded before returning to his work, convinced that a good meal would make his brother feel better. He didn't notice the way Spain's back tensed as he stared up the staircase, or the way Germany ignored everything and stared at the black television.
Germany was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and shoved forcefully back into the couch. He looked up in surprise at Spain, who was leaning over him with a very serious face. "...Spain?"
"What is wrong with my Roma?" the tanned nation asked with a harsh edge. Germany suppressed a shiver and stared in confusion. Had that almost sounded like a threat? Spain's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he continued, "He wouldn't say that anymore. What have you done to him?"
AN: This is only half as long as I had envisioned, but I feel it would be rude to keep you waiting more (if any of you are, and I hope you are!). And Dark!Spain...I love him. I can't help it.