SPAMANO! Recently I've been very interested in this pairing (and yandere!Spain, but that's a whole different enchilada) so I decided to write something about it. I don't know where this will go, or what will happen, but I hope you like it either way! The rating may go up, it may not. Depends on my mood.

This is going to be yaoi. It will be gay. But gay means happy, right? ;)

I don't own Hetalia, and never will T.T


Spain sat in his chair at the international meeting, his head resting lightly on his hand. He gazed with half-lidded eyes at Germany, who was giving a presentation on factory production in the EU. His curly hair was slightly unkempt, his shirt unbuttoned a bit at the top. He sighed a little, closing his eyes for a moment as he let it out. Lovino watched all this from across the table, pretending not to be completely transfixed.

Oh, he saw everything. He saw the light bags under Spain's eyes, he saw the dark mark on his collarbone. The pangs of jealousy were difficult to quell as Lovino clenched and unclenched his fists. He stared at Spain, trying his best not to imagine someone else kissing HIS SPAIN, someone else holding HIS SPAIN, someone else making love to HIS SPAIN. Well, it wasn't exactly his Spain, at least not yet. His former caretaker didn't talk with him much, save for a little fond reminiscing or the occasional phone call. It was stupid how little they talked, after they'd spent so much of his childhood together.

Spain was really a beautiful nation. His curly hair framed his face, while his soft brown eyes could always manage to be comforting. He was tanned and fit, from working and playing football. He was happy-go-lucky, smiling, fun to be around. Unfortunately, he was also the "Country of Passion," as he never let anyone forget. What this really translated to was the "Country of One-Night Stands" and the "Country of Whorishness." These were things Lovino detested about Spain, the fact that on any given night he could be found in bed with any person. Male or female, young or old, good or bad looking, he could make anyone feel like they were absolutely perfect just by the fact that he was taking his time to be with them.

Not that Lovino knew this first-hand. For some reason Spain had never decided that Lovino was worth it, or maybe he was grossed out by the idea of having sex with his former charge. Then again, Lovino didn't just want sex. He was the last to admit it, damn you, but he really liked Spain. Like…well, he was sure as hell not going to say love, but you get the point. The feelings had developed about the time when he and Feliciano got together as one country, when he finally had to leave Spain. It was a bit after that, he realized how much he really missed the older country.

Germany kept rambling on about something that nobody actually cared about, and Spain stared lazily at him. Lovino looked down at the papers out in front of him. The lights in the room were out, so the main source of light came from the slideshow presentation Germany was giving, so everything was bathed in a fine blue light. The papers were almost impossible to see, but it didn't really matter, because Lovino wasn't paying any attention to that. He looked back up at Spain, who now had a small noncommittal smile on his face. It was withdrawn and light, completely removed from the situation. It was a look that Lovino loved, the calm and cool Spain who in that moment looked so much like everything Lovino couldn't be. Completely uninvolved with everything around him. Nothing could bother him. It was perfect.

Suddenly, Spain's eyes left Germany and the presentation and came directly to Lovino. They paused on him for a second, and the politely amused look on Spain's face turned into a full-blown smile. Lovino felt a slight tingle rush through him, a little bit of a rush at seeing Spain look at him like that. He didn't smile back, of course, because when was the last time he'd smiled? He quickly averted his eyes, thankful for the dark room as it successfully hid his blush. Stupid Spain and the stupid effect that one look could have on him. Damn him.

Lovino looked up at Germany and the presentation for the first time, and upon immediately seeing a line graph he looked away. He scanned the other countries, who were talking softly with each other or fiddling with the stacks of papers in front of them or drawing. Greece was asleep. America leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head. Nobody was actually paying attention, save for England, Austria and Sweden. And still Germany rambled on, something about the metalworking industry and how many cars he'd made this year. Lovino's eyes drifted back to Spain, as they always did. The other nation was looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling, the same cool smile that Lovino loved back on his face.

His neck was exposed, and Lovino let himself stare openly. The hickey was partially concealed by his collar, so Lovino began to imagine himself right there, sitting on Spain's lap, leaning over him and kissing down his neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, looking into Spain's eyes and calling him by his human name…now on a bed, alone in Spain's hotel room…Spain whispering his name…gasping at his touch…

Lovino shook his head to clear out the thoughts. Here he was, in a fricking international meeting, getting horny by staring at someone's neck. Had it been that long since he got some? He rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes. He was tired, and had had a long day. Waking up early, getting on a plane, going all the way over to the US, getting a hotel, eating, getting ready for the meeting (which took a long time because he had to do his hair and make sure he had his suit pressed…he just wanted to look nice. Don't judge.) Going to the meeting, sitting here, staring at Spain, imagining how nice it would be just to be there with him…alone…

Shit, he was doing it again. It wasn't like he could help it when Spain was right across from him, his head tilted all the way back, starting to fall asleep. Lovino cursed how long the meeting was going to take before he could finally talk to Spain. He'd do that today, he decided, he'd just walk up to Spain and start a conversation with him. It would be easy enough, because Spain was a good person to talk to. He never wanted to make anyone feel bad, so he'd listen. Not that Lovino would have to rely on his kindness, though. He was interesting enough for Spain to want to talk to him. Why was he even obsessing over this? It would be great, and he'd feel nice and confident afterward.

After what seemed like an eternity Germany finished his presentation and started to pack his things back up. Everyone started clapping, so Lovino joined in. Spain lifted his head and clapped lightly, blinking a few times. He rested his head back on his hand, leaning lazily over the table.

"Alright, everyone," England said after standing and clearing his throat. "We're going to take an hour hiatus for food and then we'll be back. Make sure you're back in your seat by eight o'clock."

People started to stand up, so Lovino joined them. He didn't pick up any of his stuff, letting it sit at his place. Spain stood up gracefully, pushing his chair in before starting around the table. Lovino stood in his place for a moment, waiting for Spain to come around to the door. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he prepared what he was going to say. Not that he was worried or anything. He was suave enough to get away with anything, wasn't he? No problem there. He took a deep breath, nodding to himself as he started in Spain's direction.

The curly-haired nation's eyes lit up as he saw Lovino approaching, and Lovino felt the same rush as before flooding through him. So Spain was genuinely happy to see him, huh? That was good. Very good. It would make the whole conversation so much easier. Okay. There was Spain. Time to say hi. Hello, maybe. To sound more formal, you know. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Why was he freaking out over just a little conversation? It was nothing big. He'd done it before, millions of times. Hey, Spain. Hey, Antonio. What's up? How have you been? I'm fine, thanks. You want to go grab something to eat?

Spain started by him, and Lovino got ready. "Hey…uh…Spain."

Spain turned to Lovino, eyes bright. He really was beautiful, with his soft eyes and dark hair, his muscular body, his smile… "Hi, Lovi! How are you?"

"I'm okay. What about you?" It was slow and stilted, and Lovino cursed his own completely unexplained nervousness. There was absolutely no reason, besides the fact that he hadn't seen Spain in a long time, for him to be so incapable.

"I'm great, thanks!" Spain was always so chipper and happy. Lovino didn't smile, because he never smiled, and he wondered how many times he was going to have to go hit his head against a wall before he could gain his bearings again. There was a call from just outside the room, and Spain's attention immediately shifted.

"I'm sorry, Lovi, I have to go," he said, and Lovino felt his heart sink. Just as Spain finished speaking France came up to the two of them. Fucking France. Why did he have to show up at the exact wrong time, all the time? Didn't he have something better to do, like molest children, or hump something?

"Mon Antoine, we must go!" France completely ignored Lovino at first, his hair pulled up into a ponytail with his hands in the pockets of his suit. Girly asshole. Lovino scowled darkly at the snail-eating bastard.

"Bye!" Spain said, waving to Lovino as he walked away with France. Lovino watched in disgust as France's arm curled around Spain's waist, hand resting lightly on the dark-haired nation's hip. Prussia joined them, grinning wildly. He said something, and Spain burst into laughter. Then they were gone, leaving Lovino to stand by himself, one of the few people still in the room. Feliciano was bouncing around Germany, tugging on his arm, saying something about going to go get pasta. The taller man was trying to push him away, stacking papers.

Greece was still asleep in his chair, snoring softly, and England was being dragged out the door by America, who was yelling something at him about McDonalds and "real food." The room, which had just moments before erupted into sound, was now quieting down. Lovino scanned the people who were still here, deciding that he couldn't go eat with any of them. He felt a bit sick to his stomach. It was true that Spain had a life outside of Lovino's past. His former charge had just been a bit of an afterthought, and he had his own friends and social life. Lovino wasn't that important to him.

Lovino sighed, his usual grimace plastered on his face as he walked out of the meeting room. The hallway was almost empty, with a few stragglers here and there. Lovino shoved his hands in his pockets, heading down the hallway to the lobby and then the door. The entire wall surrounding the door was made of windows, so he could very clearly see the cobbled square outside the hotel. Spain and his friends were walking, and Lovino could see what they were doing. Prussia had his arm thrown around Spain's shoulders, and France's hand drifted lower and lower as they walked. Spain was laughing about something or other, his arms around each of the other men. Lovino coughed into his hand, pushing through the doors and heading in the other direction. He snuck one last glance before walking briskly across the plaza.

There was a small Starbucks across the street from the hotel, so Lovino crossed the abandoned street and headed inside. Stupid Spain and his stupid friend and this stupid meeting and stupid FUCKING France, and stupid him for feeling like this. There was hardly a line at the café, so he got a coffee (plain, none of those stupid fake Italian names) and some sandwich rather quickly. He didn't really care. He sat down at one of the tables, looking around at the other people. There was nobody else from the meeting, so he felt very alone. That was okay, because lonely was how he spent most of his time. He couldn't help the fact that Spain kept flashing through his mind, like he always did whenever they were in contact for even the shortest amount of time. This happened every time. Lovino would try to say hi, or try to start a conversation, try to take the initiative, but it never worked out. Spain had so many other friends, and he was good looking enough to get anyone in bed with him, so he could do whatever he wanted. Lovino was sour, unlikeable, he wasn't smooth or very handsome, and he was socially awkward.

After he finished his sandwich he check his watch. He'd only used about twenty minutes of the hour lunch break, which meant he had a lot of time to just kill, thinking about Spain and his stupid Spanish ways. Speaking of which, Lovino would have to brush up on his Spanish soon. That would make Spain happy, wouldn't it? If they could speak in his mother tongue, it made the conversations more personal, didn't it? Neither France nor Prussia could speak Spanish, he was sure. That would give him an edge.

Or maybe he was just overreacting. He tended to do that, so it would be no surprise. It could have been his imagination when France had that look in his eyes at Spain, when he called him "Mon Antoine," and when he put his arm around him. Lovino sighed and stared down into his empty coffee cup. It wouldn't do to just sit here all day. He got up and threw everything away, heading out the door. The smell of New York hit him at once. Wrinkling his nose, he started down the street, looking in each store or restaurant as he passed. Occasionally he saw someone from the meeting, inside talking with others. He couldn't have been the only one who ate alone, right? From what he was seeing, that's what it seemed like.

He passed an Italian restaurant, seeing Feliciano and Ludwig inside. His little brother was clinging to the German's arm from his seat, and as they spoke he leaned up and planted a little kiss on Germany's jaw. Lovino turned away, biting his lip. Why did they have to be so touchy-feely in public? It was disgusting. He sighed sharply, continuing down the street with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. As he passed each building he felt a little twinge of hope that maybe, maybe, Spain would be inside. With each passing minute he felt his disappointment escalate. At one point he thought he saw the curly hair, but it turned out just to be Latvia, picking at a slice of pizza with Lithuania, Estonia and Sealand. Lovino really had been the only one to eat alone, hadn't he? That sucked.

He checked his watch again. He still had another fifteen minutes or so to kill. He decided to head back to the hotel, so maybe he could find someone and stop feeling so goddamn lonely. He jogged across the street, heading down yet another until he reached the cobblestone plaza. There were a few people heading back, but only a few here and there. Lovino pushed through the doors and stepped into the lobby. The man behind the desk in the back looked up at him as he entered the soft-looking red and maroon room, and in some armchairs sat a few other tenants of the hotel. One was reading a newspaper and one had a cup of coffee on a coffee table. The floors were shiny wood, and the entire place had very low light so it all looked dark and nondescript. In fact, if it weren't for the wall of windows, it would be almost impossible to see.

Lovino went down the hallway, stopping at the door to the meeting room. It was open, and inside he saw the room completely empty, save for Austria setting up some kind of presentation up in the front. The lights were back on, and it looked all white and sterile compared to the rest of the hotel. The table was in an odd curve, with a large empty space in the middle. It was a huge table as well, able to fit the hundreds of countries who came to these meetings. Lovino went to his place at the table, stacking up and rearranging the papers and packets randomly. He looked around. Nobody else was there yet.

"Romano, can you get me that chart?" Austria called from the front of the room, pointing to where he'd been sitting. Lovino hated being called "Romano," but it was better than "South Italy" which is what a few nations called him.

"You have legs, you get it," he said, but he still walked over to Austria's place, picking up the piece of poster-board. It had a chart on each side, and some scribbles in the corner. Another corner was bent and fading. So Austria was still cheap enough to reuse everything. Oh well. Lovino, holding the old piece of poster paper by the corner as though it was a dead rat, brought it up to the front of the room, putting it on the floor by Austria's feet. He was thanked, to which he responded with "Yeah, yeah," and then he went back over to his seat. He wasn't completely heartless.

Other countries were starting to leak back into the meeting room. Lovino checked his watch again. Five minutes until the meeting would start again. Unconsciously, he felt a twinge of happiness. That meant he'd be able to see Spain again, even if just from across the table. He sat down, scooting his chair forward. The room gradually got louder and louder as others entered and sat down, talking the whole time. Country by country they came, and Lovino watched the door. No Spain, no France, no Prussia. Even America and a very sick-looking England came through before they did.

Lovino told himself to stop worrying. He'd get to see Spain before he knew it. It would just be a few more minutes. Not too long. And then, sure enough, just as Germany stood up to start the meeting Spain walked in proudly, followed closely by France and Prussia. They were all looking very happy with themselves, much to the annoyance of everyone else in the room. Germany cleared his throat.

"Thank you to everyone who arrived on time," he started. "Now, we're going to jump right back in. If you would please open up the 'Finances and Financial Projections' packet to page 17…"

Lovino dug through the little stack of papers in front of him until he found the packet. It was partially open, and he started flipping through pages. As he was doing so, a small piece of scrap paper fell out onto his lap. He dropped the packet, picking up the paper in surprise. He then looked around, seeing if anyone was watching. Austria had started to speak already, so most of the people were watching him. Cautiously, Lovino flipped the paper over, seeing a note scribbled quickly onto it. He read it, blinking a few times.

Meet me in the plaza after the meeting.

That was it. Lovino turned the paper around, looking for a name, anything to identify the person who had given him the note. It had been tucked pretty well into the packet, so he knew that it couldn't have been for someone else. The only question now was who it was from. Almost everyone thought that Lovino was crass and unpolished, and they didn't want to spend any time with him. Unless this was some kind of threat, it seemed as though someone might have taken an interest in him. Immediately his eyes flicked to Spain, who was lazily flipping a pen back and forth. Then he scanned the rest of the room, trying to find some clue as to who the note was from. Nobody looked at him, nobody even glanced in his direction. After a little while he stopped looking, folding the piece of paper up neatly and sticking it in his pocket.

Now he was faced with a dilemma. Should he do what the note said or not? If it turned out to be someone he would…like to get a note of this variety from, then he should definitely go. If it was someone who was a bit less desirable—he looked over at Russia, who was currently in the process of intimidating the crap out of Latvia—then he could think of nothing better to do than stand them up. It was really a hard decision. His first instinct was to crumple the note into a little ball and toss it into a trash can somewhere.

Whatever. He'd go. There was nothing it could hurt. Trying to not think about it anymore, he decided to start watching Spain again. It really was a good pastime. Spain once again had that calm, reserved look, but this time it was a bit more wild. Lovino felt his chest aching, wishing will all his being that he could have been there with Spain, France and Prussia, wherever it was they went. He always felt so out of the loop whenever they were around, knowing that the three of them had a history together, extending much farther back than he could remember, back before he was around. Spain had done so much and had been through so much before Lovino even came into his life, and it was a bit disconcerting.

"Over the past few years, as the economic slump has worsened, spending has actually gone up in certain areas of Europe and especially North America…"

Austria was still droning on in his matter-of-fact tone, and Lovino felt unendingly bored. He kept his usual scowl on his face, examining Spain from afar the entire time. After what seemed like an eternity and a half Austria was done, and someone else came up to give a presentation. It was Sweden, whose mumbling and choppy speech made him difficult to understand. Then came India, Somalia and Brazil. Lovino was almost drifting off to sleep by the time the meeting was over.

When it ended everyone was told to pack their things up and be there in the morning by ten. Lovino sat in his chair for a moment, yawning widely. Then he started put his things into a briefcase. The note came flashing back into his memory, and he realized that he wasn't going to be going back up to his hotel room to sleep after all. As everyone cleared out, he realized that he had yet another chance to talk to Spain. Unlike earlier, however, he didn't feel the same anxiousness and he stopped when he saw France come up to Spain and put his arm around the dark-haired nation again. Stupid fucking France and his stupid fucking French ways.

And so, Lovino packed up and headed out of the hotel once more. He didn't speak to anyone, and realized that it had been hours since he'd spoken more than a few words. As he pushed through the glass doors into the now moonlit plaza he felt a bit of relief. Nobody was there yet. He pulled out the note again, rereading it. Meet me in the plaza after the meeting. It was just eight simple words (not that he counted or anything), and they gave absolutely no indication as to any of the important information he'd like to know about it. Like, who? Or why?

He sat down on a bench, watching the hotel doors. For about five minutes there was no movement, and he wondered if it was a joke, or if he'd been stood up. Then, there was movement from inside, and someone walked out. They approached him, and when they got a bit closer they started to jog. As he watched them, he realized with shock that he knew exactly who it was. Oh God. Feliciano.

"Loviiiii~!" his younger brother yelled. Lovino blinked a few times, and then his annoyance started to show.

"Feliciano," he said dully. "Did you give me this note?" He held up the piece of paper between two fingers, waving it back and forth. Feliciano looked confused.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "But I was looking all over for you and I couldn't find you anywhere! I needed to tell you that I'm going to be going over to Germany's room tonight!"


"I didn't want you to worry or anything!"

Lovino choked out a laugh. "No chance of that."

Feliciano smiled. "Okay! Why are you sitting out here?"

"I'm enjoying the night air," Lovino said sarcastically. Feliciano's eyes brightened.

"Have fun!"

He skipped off back into the hotel, leaving Lovino alone again. He scowled at the ground, clutching his briefcase in his lap. Though he'd been trying to break himself of the habit he crossed his legs. For the next few minutes he sat there in silence. Every once in a while another person walked down the sidewalk, but soon they were gone.

After about twenty minutes, Lovino was getting impatient. He decided to go back inside, feeling very stupid and naïve. There were probably cameras somewhere, and fucking France was sitting there, laughing with Prussia and Spain about how stupid little Romano was. He clenched his fists angrily, tightening his grip on the briefcase.

"Lovino!" a voice yelled. Lovino whirled around, eyes wide. A figure walked toward him from across the darkened plaza, hands in their pockets. They looked up at him, a smile crossing their lips. Blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and their accent was very thick.

"Mon cher, I'm glad you showed up."


Oooh. I hope you liked this first chapter, and I'm sorry if it is infinitely cliched. I wrote this with no plot in mind, so I hope it isn't crap :P

Review, fave, flame, whatever. I'll give you cookies if you give me love ^^