Why a second part? Because I can (and I was inspired by fanart of Spain aslasjdl Spaaaaaaaain ilu).
The hard-working type…Canada had to wonder if he had a weakness for that or something.
Because Spain, standing in front of him with a white bandanna around his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, sweat dampening his skin slightly and a basket of tomatoes in the bend of one arm was making his stomach do funny flips and whirls. His face grew hot and he tried to tear his gaze away (and failed because, hello, those bare arms were pretty nice).
Then again, looking at South Italy in much the same state next to Antonio didn't make him feel anything of the sort, so Matthew figured it was just the Spaniard.
"Matthew!" Antonio said, smiling with both pleasure and surprise at him, adjusting the basket to sit better in his arm and against his hip. "I didn't know you were coming here today!"
"Who?" Lovino muttered alongside him.
"I came with Alfred—he had some things to do here and I didn't have any particularly urgent business to do at home," Matthew explained with a small smile, ducking his head. "It's nice to see you again, Antonio." The Spaniard smiled cheerfully and nodded. They hadn't seen each other for a few weeks now, though they'd talked often over telephone.
"Lovi, you remember Matthew, don't you? Canada!" Antonio waved at the blond and Lovino quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Hey," he said without any enthusiasm.
For some reason, Matthew had an uncomfortable prickling feeling spreading out from where Lovino looked at him. Maybe it was because the Italian country's eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes had narrowed a bit, his lips pressing together as if to force back a scowl.
"So!" Matthew burst out, hoping to change the focus of Lovino's irritated stare. Antonio looked at Matthew, just smiling widely, affectionately. "You're harvesting tomatoes again? They look good." He blinked down at the ripe, bright red tomatoes admiringly.
Antonio smiled at him and nodded firmly. "We were just on our way back home," he said, indicating the stretch of dusty, rural road. Matthew had decided to go to one of the smaller towns away from Madrid while Alfred had gone to attend to whatever business he had. He had been hoping to run into Antonio, since he'd hadn't had a chance to see him in person for a while. Not since last time, where he'd failed spectacularly at actually confessing his feelings to the elder man and had wanted to remedy it (doing it over the phone just wasn't right, in his opinion). "Do you have to meet your brother?"
Matthew checked his watch idly. "No, not yet."
Antonio's eyes brightened. "Then, mi tesoro," he began cheerfully, "why don't you come with us? I was going to make a good lunch!" Matthew swayed, tempted, but Lovino's dark stare seemed to grow in strength when he heard the name and the Canadian floundered and looked away hastily.
"I don't want to intrude," he said lamely. "Al might be done soon…might call me to go meet him sooner."
Looking up, he was struck by the disappointment on Antonio's face and promptly felt like a complete ass. "You wouldn't be intruding," the Spaniard insisted, disappointment relaxing into gentleness, his tone coaxing. He extended his free hand to touch it to Matthew's shoulder. "Please, come. We'd like that—right, Lovi?"
"Yeah, whatever," the Italian gritted out. Matthew winced internally.
"See?" Antonio beamed at him, oblivious.
"If…if you insist," Matthew mumbled at last, ducking his head. The Spaniard laughed and swung his free arm companionably around Matthew's shoulders, turning him around to face the way the two of them had been headed. "Ah—what?"
"You can walk fine like this, sí?" Antonio asked cheerfully as he walked down the sidewalk, arm snug about his shoulders. Matthew could feel a stare drilling holes into the back of his head and resisted the urge to turn around and stare right back. "I haven't seen you in a while! Feels like forever!"
"Yeah." Matthew allowed himself to relax gradually under the weight of his arm. A hand mussed his blond hair gently and he leant back into the warm, calloused palm for an instant before it dropped to his shoulder and squeezed. "How've you been doing?"
"Oh, good, good," was the cheerful reply. "The tomatoes are good and the sun is warm, so I'm in high spirits!"
The Canadian ducked his head with a smile, Antonio's cheer infectious. The stare on the back of his head felt as though it could catch his hair on fire. 'What, he's not jealous, is he?' he wondered internally, but he couldn't think about it anymore as Lovino shoved his way between them, separating Antonio's arm from around his shoulders. Matthew drifted to the side, a prickle of annoyance rising up in him, and Antonio smiled in bemusement down at the younger country.
"You're walking too damn slow!" Lovino growled, adjusting his basket. "Hurry up already!" He jogged ahead and Antonio laughed.
"Wait up, Lovi!" he called and trotted after him, careful not to drop any tomatoes.
Matthew lingered behind, watching the two of them, Antonio playfully mussing Lovino's hair when he got close. He blinked slightly, a bit envious, and tucked his hands into his pockets as he plodded sedately after them. 'I won't get a chance to talk to Antonio alone about last time,' he realised. 'But I want to tell him how I feel…'
"Matthew!" Antonio called, waving his free hand in the air, laughing. "You're too slow! Come on!"
Smiling a little, Matthew trotted towards the two older countries. 'I hope I get a chance. I don't want to just have to kiss him when he's asleep—or, er, faking sleep—again.'
"You're not thinking about going out with Spain, are you, bastard?"
The question came out of nowhere, as Matthew and Lovino stood at the counter. Antonio had told them he had to run to the store to pick up a few spices and the two lingered, the former cutting vegetables, the latter crushing up tomatoes.
The Canadian turned his gaze slowly to the grumpy, elder Italian brother, knife hovering over an onion. "Well…" He began, and trailed off, unable to deny it.
Lovino made another irritated noise from deep in his throat. "You aren't like that shitty France, right? He raised you, didn't he? You aren't a pervert, are you?" he asked, squashing the tomatoes in a way Matthew thought was particularly ruthless, especially the way the juice sprayed up like blood. He hoped Lovino wasn't imagining his head in place of the tomatoes.
"France raised me for a little while, but then England took me from him," Matthew said after a pause. He looked down at the vegetables, remembering how upset he'd been at that time, so long ago, before getting back to chopping the onion into small pieces. "I don't know if I'm particularly like either of them…I don't really fit in with the rest of my 'family'."
"Yeah, you're pretty forgettable," Lovino remarked casually. "You're not as noisy as that bastard America, either." He paused, scrunched up his nose with annoyance. "Wait, this isn't what I'm trying to get at. If you're planning to go out with Spain—" here he jabbed a finger dripping with tomato juice over at the Canadian "—I don't want to hear about him being unhappy. You get me? I'm not afraid to kick your ass." He sneered a little bit, chin tilted aggressively.
Matthew looked at him with surprise—he hadn't been jealous? He'd been…protective. 'Oh god, that's adorable, don't smile, he'll get pissed off, don't smile—'
"What the fuck are you smiling about, bastard?" Lovino snapped, his face turning the same colour as the tomatoes he was crushing up.
'Damn you, facial muscles.'
"N-nothing," Matthew told him hastily, lifting his hands in placation. He looked back at the vegetables, returning to cutting them with neat movements of the knife. "But, I'd…like to be with Antonio. I really, really love him. I have for a long time." He smiled down at the cutting board, thinking about watching that strange young explorer traipse across his land, curious and interested but never catching sight of the child who'd shadowed him.
A silence dragged on between them and Lovino let out a huffing breath through his nose. "Just don't come to me for advice or think you can complain to me," he grumped.
Matthew lifted a hand to cover his laugh and nodded. "Deal."
They heard the sound of footsteps and Antonio stepped into the kitchen with a broad, shining smile, holding a plastic bag. He looked elated. "Found everything!" he said cheerfully, setting it down on the table.
"You're too excited about spices, bastard," Lovino scoffed.
After supper, Lovino excused himself, shooting glances down at his cell phone, which had rung during dinner. "I'm going up to my room for a bit," he told Antonio. "Don't bother me." He glared at them both, like he expected them to run into the guest room where he was staying and just bang pots and pans together to interrupt him. That done, he retreated upstairs, grumbling to himself all the way even while he punched in a number to his phone. They heard him greet someone before the door slammed shut.
"Lovi's found someone," Antonio said fondly, his eyes twinkling.
Matthew smiled and nodded slightly, helping the older country with the dishes. He washed them, handing them over for Antonio to dry. Silence fell between them, broken only by the clinking of dishes and languid birdcall drifting in through the open window.
Eventually, Matthew got down to the bottom of the sink and turned slightly to tell Antonio they were all done. However, a warm body pressing against his back and arms wrapping around his waist halted any words in his throat. Breath puffed into the side of his neck and his face grew hot as hair tickled his cheek.
"Antonio…?" he asked after a few moments.
"You're so cute." The words were muffled against his neck. "You really, really love me?"
The Canadian spluttered, his whole body feeling like it had just caught on fire. "Were you eavesdropping?" he said incredulously and he felt the vibration of Antonio's chest against his back as the man laughed into his skin, arms tightening briefly.
"I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't particularly sound it. "I was just curious when I heard you two talking about me so I accidentally listened in…"
Matthew looked down at the arms around his waist, feeling horribly embarrassed. "I never got a chance to tell you before," he mumbled under his breath, his palms resting against Antonio's arms, lingering suds from the water smudging over his skin. "I mean, I really do…love you…" He swallowed lightly and Antonio squeezed him gently, crooning something softly in Spanish against the curve of his neck.
"I love you as well, mi tesoro!" Matthew found himself spun around, on the receiving end of a fiery kiss, palms cupping his cheeks and fingertips sliding slightly into his hair. Shutting his eyes, Matthew clasped his damp hands in the back of Antonio's white shirt, accepting the tongue that brushed along his lower lip and not minding as he was pressed back into the counter, even though it bit into his back—
"Hey! Cut it out!" Lovino roared behind them.
Matthew spluttered and tried to break away but Antonio only looked over his shoulder with his usual smile, the weight of his body keeping the Canadian pinned. "Oh, hi, Lovi!" he said brightly. "Are you done your phone call already? I thought you'd be longer."
"They ran out of minutes," Lovino said, frowning, but then scowled fiercely at them (more specifically, at Matthew). "I'll let you date Spain, but you aren't allowed to do anything where I can see it! I don't wanna see that shit!" He glowered fiercely.
"But Lovi," Antonio said with a laugh and nuzzled against Matthew's cheek, not even minding the Italian fuming in the doorway, "how can I be expected to hold back right now? Can't you go back upstairs and pretend not to listen?"
"NO, YOU BASTARD. CUT IT OUT."