A/N: Um... So this oneshot takes place in the same universe as my FrUK oneshot "Seeing Through to You". To understand this oneshot there's no need to read that piece, though.
I have had this idea for Secret Agent!AU for quite a while... I'm not sure whether I'll actually start writing that story since it'll probably be a huge project and I'm pretty lazy person. But we'll see. If I decide to write it, it'll probably come here in a few months.
Meanwhile I'll probably continue writing these oneshots which have something to do with that main story. x'D
And this is my first Spamano oneshot, so yay. I never thought I'd end up writing something about these two... They're awfully cute together, though 3
Please review~ It's always nice to have feedback from my readers. (Constructive criticism is VERY appreciated.)
Don't Want to Leave
If anyone had asked Romano how he felt right now, he would have cursed that person out for at least five minutes for being an intrusive bastard before mumbling something along the lines 'it's the worst day that has ever been in this fucking world'.
It wasn't because he had had a bad day or anything like that. On the contrary, the day before this had been one of the happiest days in his entire life. (Not that he'd ever admit that to the idiot lying next to him.)
Romano hated this feeling of happiness that always, always came to him whenever the asshole took him out somewhere... and used those terrible, horrible, cheesy nicknames like 'Lovi', 'my love' and so on.
He didn't want or need any of those nicknames, so why did the bastard keep calling him those things?
"Moron..." Romano grumbled to himself as he carefully pried the arms away from his waist so that he could stand up from the bed he had shared with a very annoying Spaniard. (Damn Antonio for being clingy.)
Just as he almost got out of said bastard's arms, Romano was pulled back to bed again by those arms belonging to his unofficial boyfriend (although they were pretty official if anyone in their organization was asked).
Oh, for the love of all shitty things out in the world! Romano thought to himself as he froze. It usually took a lot more to wake the sleeping queer up! (...No, he didn't fucking learn the word 'queer' from that prissy England. Definitely not.)
"Ah, Lovi~! You're so red~!"
Romano's beautiful hazel eyes twitched. A dream. Antonio was fucking dreaming. About him.
What the fuck?
Anyhow, Romano was back to where he had started. Moron doesn't even care that I have work to do, the Italian thought irritably to himself, gritting his teeth together. He should have said no when Antonio had suggested to spend the day together with him...
Oh, wait. He had said no. The idiot had just come to pick him up from his hotel anyways and had merely chuckled like a brainless moron when Romano had tried to squirm out of the Spaniard's embrace.
And then that moron had had the guts to take him to his own tomato garden or whatever that shit was called. Although, Romano had to grudgingly admit, those tomatoes were pretty darn good. If only Antonio hadn't been there to make fun of his red cheeks, everything would have been perfect.
(He would never admit to Antonio but just being with him was perfect enough. No matter where they went. Nope, he'd never say such a cheesy line.)
The Italian's cheeks darkened slightly before he started to pry the hands off of him once more. He really needed to leave – first of all to pay for his hotel room, to pack his shit and then go to airport for his effing flight.
...Lovino didn't want to do any of those things, though. What the Italian truly wanted to was to lie down and snuggle closer to the slumbering moron he had grown fond of. (He thanked every deity in the world that Antonio couldn't read his mind.)
But no. It wasn't up to Lovino anymore. It was always Romano's duties and missions that led his life forward. Always Romano's missions and never Lovino's needs and dreams.
It was fucking painful to disregard his own feelings but that's what leader expected of him. That's what every single one of them was expected to do.
Even this moron Lovino loved. (Kind of...)
This was one of those times Lovino was supposed to work as Romano and just leave before his flight would leave. I freaking hate these missions, he thought sourly to himself as he gently rose from Antonio's bed without waking the Spaniard up.
Sometimes Lovino just wished he could just tell their leader to go fuck themselves and run off after that, never returning to that ugly and bleak headquarters again with his Spain. (He was an Italian so he could totally complain about the architecture.)
Years ago he would have been able to leave everything. Before his stupid little brother joined the organization, Lovino would have been able to leave.
Before he had accepted that position... He should have left. He really should have left with Antonio like the man had once offered.
It's too fucking late for those kinds of thoughts, you crybaby, Lovino scolded himself as he started to redress himself slowly while his eyes moved back to the one still deep in their slumber. Moron.
Besides, with his bloodline, it would have been impossible to even try escaping from the organization. Lovino's grandfather had been the one to found the organization in question and although he had died years ago, Lovino was pretty darn sure he wouldn't have wanted him to just leave.
He had been trained for this since his childhood. He wouldn't be able to do anything else than working as a secret agent. Could he be even called that? It sounded a bit too much James Bond-like...
Lovino shook his head, grunting indignantly at his own thoughts. What the hell is matter with you, you moron? Stop pondering about the impossible and dress yourself!
And so he did just that, although he almost shrieked out loud when he found his very nice crimson red collar shirt slightly torn from the floor. Fucking Spaniards and their violent way of undressing Italians... Grr.
He would definitely have to change his shirt at the hotel. He couldn't appear in front of those people with slightly ripped shirt or he'd never hear the end of it. He had his Italian pride in line, too.
Lovino tiptoed his way to the bathroom where he could check his hair. Turning on the light, he couldn't help but wince slightly when he noticed the condition his hair was in.
"I will fucking murder Antonio one day", he growled threateningly as he started to inspect his ruffled and pointy hair. He ignored the way his cheeks were still painted with rosy colour and the almost happy gleam in his eyes which were all due to the day he had spent with Antonio.
After managing to straighten his hair (except for the one stubborn curl that bounced around when he moved), Lovino turned off the lights and sneaked out of the bathroom like a criminal... or a secret agent.
He felt almost bad for leaving Antonio like this but he couldn't exactly tell the other where he was going to go... Antonio wouldn't have let him go if he had known about Lovino's plans and about the men he was going to meet up with.
Or he would have insisted to go with Lovi... No, with Romano. That would have actually been even worse.
(Besides, Romano couldn't let his Spain get hurt...)
"Ciao, Antonio, you dumbass tomato-head", Romano whispered quietly as he approached the door leading out from the bedroom. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone, bastard."
If anyone asked how Romano felt right then... he wouldn't have said anything but he definitely would have punched the person for being an ass.
I'll see you soon, Antonio.