Takin' a break from difficult stories. Since I haven't written in so long, my skills are made of suck. Therefore, I practice on one of my new OTPs: Spain/S. Italy. This should have at least two chapters. Maybe three. Probably some lemon.

Fluffiness and blatant refusal of Prop 8 lie ahead. Turn around now if you want to live. Also, if you're going to flame, remember to do it under the marshmallows.

EDIT: It has come to my attention, in no small part due to an anonymous reviewer who pointed out that I, in summary, fucked up. In Spain, a person's full name is written in this order: Given name, Surname, Second name (middle name, etc.); whereas I had perceived it as it is in the United States: Given name, Second name, Surname.


In addition, this reviewer kindly pointed out that if a marriage between Antonio and Lovino
were to occur, Lovino would stay Lovino Vargas and Antonio would also keep his own full name.

Thank you so much; 'Some chick'. I will try to edit it to be more culturally correct.

Also, thanks to Sweet-with-Talent who fixed some of my horrid Spanish. I dropped out of Spanish for Latin, so I never really learned the unit that contained certain verbs... Yet again, all I have is Babelfish and what little I know, so...

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Bad Luck

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Lovino was a very unlucky country.

Although he was full of vigor, anger and energy, he was just as weak as his brother; a fact that severely pissed him off.

Japan had once rolled his eyes at him, calling him "tsundere"; "Whatever the fuck that means," Lovino had replied sourly. His backstabbing brother, too, had remarked that his bark was "worse than his bite". At least he didn't fraternize with potato-eating behemoths. But by comparison, he didn't really have it much better with Antonio, did he?

This bad luck is what brought him to this unfortunate situation, this awful predicament.

"But you join Russia in future, da?"

Fucking bad luck.

"Maybe future like tomorrow or couple days, yes? You join Russia. Everybody one day join Russia."

Italy Romano had been walking home from the market, bitterly reminded of the happy-go-lucky moron who happened to be his landlord, when suddenly he tripped on a jutting cobblestone. The paper bag full of the tomatoes he had lovingly selected lay scattered on the ground, pulpy soldiers lost on the battle front between dinner and gravity.

Lovino had cried a bit, picking himself up off of the ground. He wiped himself off; apparently there was tomato underneath his chin. He doubled back to the market and picked out a new bag full; taking a different route home so as not to be tortured with the sight of his fallen comrades. By this time it had gotten dark, and he ducked under a streetlight on the way.

Unfortunately, Russia had spotted him and taken it upon himself to walk Romano home.

This brings us, yet again, to the present.

"Russia one day will conquer the world anyway, yes? So why not join now, then be master of other countries when world belong to Russia? South Italy become strong and powerful. You want, da?"

Ivan was a persistent bastard, and he was only a couple of blocks from home. Where was fucking Germany when he needed to hide behind him.

Then Lovino's luck took a turn for the better. A strong arm encircled his shoulders and an exotic, familiar voice calmly fixed the problem.

"I believe that this is my wife you are pestering, Ivan."

And there went his luck again. Lovino fought back the urge to kick Antonio, but the spicy-musk scent of home was so inviting compared to the overpowering alcoholic scent that had been trailing him for the past half hour... he let it pass with only an annoyed glare.

"Surely the husband smart enough to join Russia at least, da?"

Lovino redirected his glare. Antonio merely chuckled and ruffled his "wife's" hair a little bit, evoking a short intake of breath upon brushing his flyaway.

"Sí, lo pensaré. My esposo and I will get back to you on that another day."

He flashed the childishly menacing country another dazzlingly white smile, earning excitement, thanks, and retreat.

They walked the rest of the way home that way, Antonio's arm firmly and comfortably looping around Lovino's shoulders. Lovino didn't question it.

"Grazie..."

Antonio squeezed his shoulder in response. After a long silence, Lovino continued.

"… ma voi è ancora un idiota."

Antonio laughed at the response, a melodic sound that rang through the mostly empty streets.

"I guess I am still an idiot. But that's okay, wifey~"

"I am NOT your wife."

Antonio rubbed the back of his head where he'd been hit.

"But you're so cute... and I like the sound of phrase 'ahora podeis besar a la novia'... or is it 'al novio'?" Spain puffed out his cheeks a bit in a mock pout.

"I am not and will never be your wife."

Lovino's tone was final. The pair walked on in a echoing quiet.

Antonio said something, but Lovino couldn't understand his muted voice.

"Hm?"

"I said, sleep with me."

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//End Chapter 1

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"tsundere"- a Japanese term used to describe a character or person who is outwardly violent and scary, but never seriously acts on his or her aggressive behavior. Tsundere characters also have a tendency to turn into quivering piles of rose-scented mush around their true loves.

"Sí, lo pensaré. My esposo and I will get back to you on that another day"- Spanglish for "Yes, I will think about it. (EDIT: Thank you for pointing that out, Sweet-with-Talent!) My husband and I will get back to you on that another day". The word "esposo" can mean "wife" if ending in an "-a", so Antonio is just preserving what little masculinity Lovino has.

"Grazie... ma voi è ancora un idiota"- Italian for "Thank you... but you are still an idiot". Take it for what it is.

"ahora podeis besar a la novia... al novio" – Spanish, "You may now kiss the bride", but if you substitute a la novia for al novio, it becomes masculine.

DUN DUN DUN. A bit unexpected? Perhaps. Definitely a little wtf. That's what I'm going for. Has my writing suffered? Was it ever good? Am I delusional? That's what I want to know. Please review, it's inspiring!