The door was unlocked, and Romano hardly ever bothered knocking when he visited Spain. After living with the idiot for who-knows-how-long, visiting Spain felt more like coming home than visiting a fellow nation. Familiarity aided Romano as he navigated the darkened home, but it wasn't enough as he banged his knee on a low coffee table.
Damn it, Romano thought, furiously blinking back tears. Damn that stupid Spanish idiot. He knew Romano was coming over! Romano had very loudly scorned Spain's offer of a romantic, candlelight dinner, but he'd done it in a way that Spain had to know by now meant "Okay." Yet here he was in Spain's dark, quiet, candlelight-less and more importantly, dinner-less home.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim, just past sunset light, Romano saw a strip of brightness coming from the crack under one of the doors. Romano frowned. The old storage room? What was the idiot doing in there? Definitely not cleaning.
"Spain!" he yelled. "You promised me dinner, so I'm here! Stop hiding in your closet, or whatever it is you're--"
The door opened. The light inside was bright, and at first all he could see was that brightness, with a blurred silhouette stark against it. His eyes adjusted quickly, though, and what he saw left his mouth dry, a gasp half formed and stifled somewhere in his throat.
Spain stood tall. He was not wearing his homespun, everyday clothes. These were old, expensive clothes made from heavy, shined leathers and delicate silks in exotic colors. Tall, black boots stood proud over the subtle forest green leggings. Above that was the crimson jacket, the real piece de resistance of the outfit. It was tailored precisely to Spain's body, accentuating his lean muscles and flaring fashionably at the waist. Each pocket and buttonhole was adorned with gold thread and winking gemstones. The collar was high and stiff, but was softened by the presence of precisely positioned cream ruffles, held in place by a large gold brooch shaped like a skull with rubies shining from the eyes and silver crossbones behind it, studded with tiny sapphires. On top of Spain's head was an elaborate hat, the same forest green as the leggings, but with bands of gold and red, and enormous black and red feathers branching from the band.
Romano stared. This wasn't the first time he'd seen this outfit, but the look in Spain's eyes couldn't be more different than the previous times he'd seen it worn. This was not a malicious conqueror with his battle axe. This wasn't a beaten fighter with blood sprayed across the vest worn under the jacket. This was Spain, playful, sexy and usually oblivious. However, not even Spain, who didn't realize when France was feeling him up or when Romano was agreeing to date, not even Spain could fail to read the stunned lust in Romano's gaze.
Spain wasted no time in pouncing on the shocked Italian, knocking them both to the ground painfully. Romano scowled as he bumped the knee he'd bruised earlier, but Spain paid his frown no mind, fixing his own smile into a steely line. He couldn't quite conceal the playfulness in his big, green eyes, though, or the upwards twitch at the corners of his mouth. Great, Romano thought, rolling his eyes. So now Spain wanted to play make believe in addition to playing dress up?
Before Romano could ask any questions, however, Spain pinned his arms above his head and leaned down to kiss him gently on the the lips. It wasn't a kiss that was meant to be sexy, as it gave off more of a "Come play with me!" feeling. Romano felt sorry for the idiot and kissed him back, which he figured translated to a "Whatever, but if you bang my knee again, I'll kill you."
"Arrr," Spain said, and Romano wondered how someone who had once been an actual pirate could do such a pitiful pirate impersonation. Romano stared back at Spain nonplussed as Spain rearranged himself so that he was properly straddling Romano's waist. "Arr!" Spain repeated with more enthusiasm. "I've taken you as me captive and will be claiming your booty!"
If Romano had had a hand free, he would have facepalmed.
At that moment, however, Spain leaned down towards Romano and nipped at his earlobe sharply before murmuring in his ear in a dark, deadly tone that made the pit of Romano's stomach drop out in the absolute most delicious way.
"Consider yourself pillaged."
Author's Note: I'm seriously considering expanding this one into a full-length fic. Opinions?