A/N: This is that little Spamano oneshot that I'd promised you guys two weeks ago. They're probably one of my favorite pairings. :)

And yes, I'm putting this one up a day early, to make up for the one that I put up almost too late last week.

Enjoy! (or, as Spain would say, ¬°Disfrut√°is!)

"Lovi?" Antonio called out as he saw Lovina trying to sneak out the door, her hair up in a high ponytail (leaving her looking remarkably a lot like her sister, only with darker hair and prettier eyes and was a bit meaner and had a fiery temper, but he wouldn't have it any other way) and a bag in hand. She closed her eyes for a second, colorful curses flying around the room.

"What is it, tomato bastard?" Lovina replied, turning and facing him with one hand still on the doorknob.

"Where are you going? You've been going out a lot on Monday and Wednesday and Friday nights and not telling me where you're going, Querida," he inquired.

"It's none of your business," she muttered. Antonio raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? We're practically married at this point," he paused, thinking about that word with an ecstatic glow in his eyes, "so I think I should know what's going on." He scrutinized her figure, which seemed to be shrinking slightly every day. Maybe it was just him, but he was never really sure. "Lovi...? Can you answer something for me?"

"It depends on if it's fast, and if I have an answer. If not, I'm going to be late, and it's going to be your fault, dammit," she retorted.

"Do you still love me, Lovi? Is that why you keep leaving?" he asked quietly. She sighed, looking at him with eyes that gave him a better insight to her emotions than her words.

"Listen, Antonio, of course I...of course...I mean, I do...love you. It's not that I don't, like I always say I don't but yet you know better. Really," she insisted, not holding back on her words because of his worried appearance. And that was the only reason, dammit! It's not like she liked telling him that she loved him. She only did it so that he wouldn't make her late.

"Do you have a...problem, then?" he wondered, looking up and down her frame.

She rolled her eyes at him."The only problem I have, bastard, is that I'm going to be late if you keep interrogating me. You're being ridiculous- you've seen me eating at meals with you. I don't really like exercise that much. You know that. I don't leave and do anything stupid after meals. I'm just fine. However, if I don't leave now, then Ricci's going to kill me and hang my innards up as a threat and you'll never get to see me again because you kept asking me stupid questions. I'll see you at nine." And without further warning, she walked out the door.

Ah, yes. That was his Lovi for you. So very cute and always in denial about everything, and he was always happy about everything. You know what they say, though- opposites attract.

That didn't solve the mystery of where she was going, and Antonio was still very confused about that. He didn't mind that Lovi was always leaving (as long as she always came back), although he did love spending every second of every day with her. He would get enough of that when they were older and she was always happy (though, he figured, she'd probably still be grumpy even though she'd spent almost all of her life with him) and he was still happy like always.

Naturally, because he was Antonio and very curious about things involving Lovi (and who this Ricci that she mentioned was), he decided to get in his car and follow where she was going. He had to be stealthy about it, of course, given that he knew how mad she would get if she found out he was doing this.

He could still see her little red Ferrari 599 down the end of the street, and so he hopped quickly into his slightly beat up truck (perfect for tomato harvesting, but Lovi often wouldn't let him take her out in it if she would be seen in public- so what if it was a little worn? It was from love) and began following her car, with his axe in the backseat in case something happened to his little tomato. From a distance, of course, so he hoped that it would make it much less obvious that he was following her.

Finally, after making a few wrong turns on purpose so that she wouldn't find him so close, he pulled into the lot next to her car. He stared up at the sign above the entrance of the building. Did Lovi know that he was following her, and come here as a joke? That didn't seem like something she would do, though, but he still paused before entering quietly.

She walked around the corner and into the girl's changing area. Antonio could be so dense sometimes. Didn't he get that she didn't want him to know what she was doing, and couldn't he just leave it at that? Of course, this was Tonio that she was talking about, though.

"Vee~? Lovi, what's wrong?" her sister Feliciana asked, coming up behind her and setting her small bag down next to her own.

"Nothing," she muttered, pinning up her bangs.

"If you say so," Feliciana replied, shrugging and getting ready.

"You better hurry, though," Lovina informed her. "If you're late again, Ricci's going to cut off your head and serve it to that potato bastard of yours on a plate of pasta, using your own blood as tomato sauce." She had to quickly cut herself off so that her imagination wouldn't begin to run wild again. Last time it had, she had enveloped her sister into a grotesque story that gave Feli nightmares. Of course, anything less than a pony would give Feli nightmares, so it wasn't really that terrible: but she had managed to creep herself out a little, which was new.

"Not even with any wurst for him?" Feliciana exclaimed, hurriedly beginning to change.

Lovina rolled her eyes. "Not even with any wurst."

"Can you save me a spot on barre, Lovi?" she entreated.

"You can find your own spot, Feli. It's a big room and there are only eight of us, plus Ricci," Lovina replied, tying up her shoes and walking into the room.

"Late again, Lovina," Miss Riccardo, the instructor, mentioned. "Is your sister showing up today?"

"Yeah, she showed up after I did," Lovina replied with a shrug. "And don't blame me, Ricci. Blame the interrogating tomato bastard that I live with."

"Watch your language," she scolded gently, "and didn't I tell you last week not to call me Ricci?"

Lovina ignored her comments. She could be pretty strict and annoying, but she was a fellow girl, and an Italian one at that (though she came from Feli's part of the country, which was probably why she was so annoying yet endearing), so she couldn't be sworn out. It had crossed Lovina's mind to do that more than once, though.

Feli dashed in through the door just as everyone was starting to finish their warm ups. "Your hair's down," Lovina pointed out bluntly. Feli gasped a little, and pulled a few hair scrunchies off of her wrist. "You want some help with that?"

It wasn't a common gesture, but Lovina had to admit that she missed playing with her sister's hair. They hadn't done such a thing since they were children getting ready for Sunday mass, but it was so soft and red and beautiful and not like hers that she had a hard time keeping her hands off of it when a situation like this arose.

She nodded, and handed the scrunchie to Lovina, who promptly spent much more time than necessary braiding, unbraiding, rebraiding, and eventually putting Feliciana's hair up in a bun while Feli sat there singing along to Alarice's

"Are you two going to participate, or just play 'beauty school' all day?" Miss Riccardo asked with a smirk.

"Nah, we're done," Lovina told her, getting up and going back over to the barre.

"Good. Alarice, would you mind starting back at the beginning?" she asked the brunette piano player sitting in the corner.

"Not at all, ma'am."

Antonio walked into the building, and the first thing he noticed (besides the light pink walls and the softly playing classical music which he immediately recognized as Alarice's from the time when they had dated a long time ago) was the giant open windows to the ballet rooms and the benches just inviting him to sit down and watch. Of course, as soon as he did, he recognized Lovi inside one of the windows.

So, she was really coming here three times a week, every week, to do ballet? It seemed so...un-Lovi. Not that he was complaining or anything, he really didn't mind. He knew that Feli did ballet, along with Ivan and Francis who were also in the class (though it didn't make it any less nauseating to see them in leotards). Toris, Ravis, and Eduard had been forced to join by Ivan, he remembered from when Feli had told him about how they'd danced in 'those silly white outfits on the ship with the alien things and they looked so sad when they danced, which isn't good because you're supposed to be happy when you do ballet'. Ally had also been doing ballet recently to pick up a few tips for her people, especially after watching movies and seeing shows with ballerinas in them, plus her whole 'I'm living out one of the fantasies that all little American girls have at one point or another' thing that she insisted on, and apparently she was alright at it too.

But, Lovi? It made sense, he guessed, sort of, kind of, not really. She was probably persuaded to do it by Feli. Anyone could do just about anything with those big brown puppy-dog eyes of hers.

As the teacher began calling out steps in complicated French words that he could barely understand (he could tell they were French, because of the similarities between the two languages, despite what Francis insisted), he noticed the way that Lovi's face light up. She seemed genuinely happy, something that Antonio saw on occasion, but still never often enough. That got rid of the theory that Feli roped her into it. He admired his little Lovi, in her ballet outfit with her hair up and on pointe shoes, with a small grin on her face, and dancing around beautifully. He couldn't help but let out a soft "buhyoo~" to accompany his admiration of the pure cuteness of it all.

After observing her for a few minutes, he realized that Lovi was, well, really good. Almost as good as Francis, because even though ballet had been created during the Renaissance in Italian courts, France was the one who really ended up taking the dance form under its wing. She was doing spins, jumps, and stretching her legs to distances above her waist that Antonio didn't even think was possible. She also managed to be moving her feet and arms at totally different rates at one part, but still made it all look incredible. With Alarice's accompaniment, it almost seemed as if he was watching a very touching movie without the dialogue. And to think, she did this without wanting him to know. It was a bit strange to think of a girl who refused anything too distinctly feminine doing ballet as fluidly as she was, but amazing anyways.

"Alright, guys," the instructor called out, "time to take a stretch break. Ivan, Francis, would you mind helping me move the barres out of the way?" Francis nodded, and Ivan sent his three little 'minions' to go do it for him as he began stretching out his legs.

Lovina began stretching out, talking to Feli. She turned her head at one point, looking directly out the window where Antonio was sitting. Her face turned bright red, the same shade as the tomatoes they'd harvested earlier in the day, and she said something to Feli before walking out of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Lovina demanded.

"Watching you, silly," Antonio smiled. Lovina rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I realize that, tomato bastard. I meant, why are you here? And how'd you even find me?" she questioned.

"I followed you. It was almost like a giant game of hide-and-seek, except I don't know who won. Does anyone even ever win hide-and-seek?" he shrugged, reaching down to the tupperware container by his feet. "You want some veggies?"

"You followed me?" Lovina repeated. "That's not romantic or whatever happened to be running through your head, that's just creepy, dammit! And no, I don't want any veggies, bastard!"

"Aww," he pouted, "but there are tomatoes in here that we had picked together, mi amor!"

"We pick all the tomatoes together, dumbass. Plus, I can't eat just yet, because I have to go back and keep dancing. So stop tempting me, you jerk!" she exclaimed, closing the lid. Antonio frowned, and popped open the lid again to reseal it. She turned to walk away, and he smiled slyly.

"Just so you know, te ves hermosa y te baila hermosamente, Lovi," he commented. She didn't turn around, but he could hear Feli asking her why she was so red by the time that she got back into the dance room.

This one is inspired by a real-life story (as was Morphine). I started taking basic ballet a few weeks ago, and though I am nowhere near as good as Lovina, Feliciana, Francis, and Ivan, I'm alright. However, it's out of character for me (I'm a pretty typical nerd-style tomboy and play stand up bass even though it's at least six inches taller than me). I told my boyfriend about it, and after a second of silence, he laughed at me a little and then asked if I was kidding.

He apologized afterwards, of course. :D

Also, Alarice is fem!Austria, in case you couldn't tell.

Querida- basically the same thing as 'sweetheart'
mi amor- my love
te ves hermosa y te baila hermosamente- you are beautiful and you danced beautifully

And I didn't even have to use a Spanish dictionary. :)