I hated him. That's it. I hated his dorky smile and his loud voice. I hated that he talked and drank too much. I hated that he always got himself into trouble and I'd have to come bail him out. I hated that I blushed when he gets too close and that my heart pounded when he walked into a room. I hated that I felt lonely when he's away too long and that I'd wish he'd pay more attention to me. I hated that he paid more attention to that stupid pervy bastard and the potato bastard's older brother, and even fratello sometimes, than he did to me. I hated that I cared. I hated how his warm green eyes could see right through me. I hated how he knew that I didn't hate him as much as I said.
My phone rang making me jump, and finally snapped me out of my thoughts. I glared at it when I recognized the number. Why is that potato bastard calling me? I groaned and picked up phone, reluctantly, "what do you want, older potato bastard?"
"Come get Spain." He stated simply.
"What did that tomato idiot do now?"
"He's drunk and needs you to pick him up." I groaned again and found myself in my car driving to some bar to pick him up, once again. Sure, I could've said no, but who else would take care of that idiot.
"Roma~!" He called, throwing his as around me when I walked through the door and I pushed him off immediately. "You're here! I missed you Lovi, come have a drink with me."
"No way in hell idiota."
"Onhonhon~! Is that Romano?" Fuck. I froze and my eyes widened in horror as that pervy France tried to make his way to me.
"Oh no, no way, Fucker!" I grabbed Spanga by the wrist and dragged him outside. "Let's go idiota."
"Aw Roma, you're no fun."
"There's no way I'm letting that pervert near me when he's drunk!"
He laughed and wrapped an arm around my waist. "I'd protect you and besides, he's not that one you'd have to be worried about."
I bit my lip trying to keep the blush off my face. I hated that he can be just as pervy as France sometimes and I hated that I felt my heart rate spike because we were so close. I pushed him into the car before he could try anything else or drag me back into the bar. "Why is it that I'm always the one you call, idiota?" I asked when I got into the car.
"Because you take such good care of me."
I scoffed, "No, you know how shitty I am taking care of others and I only do it because I have to." I defended myself quickly. "Don't you have any friends that could come get you?"
"Yeah, but I want it to be you."
I froze and stared at the road ahead of me, trying to just focus on driving. What? What does he mean by that? I wanted to ask him, but that would have been too embarrassing. He started humming softly as silence fell over us. I jumped as I suddenly felt his hand wander onto my thigh. "Don't touch me, bastard!" I bit my lip, hoping my face wasn't red.
"Aw, tomatito, but you're so cute, I can't help myself.
"Don't call me that! I'm trying to drive! And I'm not cute!" I hated how handsy he gets when he's drunk! Yet I didn't... He pouted and moves his hand. I glued my eyes to the road and I tried not think about how damn attractive he's NOT when he pouts.
He clung to me immediately when we get out I'd the car, stumbling as I guided glad into the house. I dumped him onto his bed and threw his pajamas at him. "Get dressed, idiota."
He grinned a pervy grin that could rival the French bastard's and I knew he was up to something. "I don't know, Lovi...I'm pretty drunk I might need your help." He winked at me and I knew I was blushing now.
"No way in hell!" I yelled and he pouted, blinking his stupid, sexy emerald eyes at me as I shoved him into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later only wearing the pants and I tried to keep my eyes from scanning his well-built torso. I glared at him as he caught me checking him out, daring him to keep that smirk on his face. He stumbled on his way to his bed and I rolled my eyes as I had to help him get settled in bed. "Well good night then, bastard." I tried to make my way out of the room, but I let out a surprised yelp as his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me into bed with him. "Let me go, bastard!" I struggled to get out of his tight hold and fought the blush that threatened my cheeks.
"Aw Lovi~! I don't want to be alone." He whined, pulling me closer.
"Well you could have picked better company than me!"
"But I want wanted it to be you!"
Again! What does he mean by that, "What? Why the hell would you want me?" I felt his laughter vibrate through his chest and I managed to turn around, glaring at him. "Don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not, not at you. I thought you would have noticed by now. I've never tried to be subtle with my feelings, Lovi. I'm in love with you."
"Wh-what? No! You're drunk, there's no you way you could mean that."
"I do Lovino. I always have." He tried to reach out to me and I shrunk away.
"Stop fucking with me!"
"Well I haven't done that yet," he smirked.
"Spagna! Shut up."
"Okay, but you set me up for that one. Seriously, though, I'm not messing with you. I would never joke about something like this." I looked into his deep green eyes; I'd never seen them that honest and serious before. I didn't flinch away that time when he placed a hand on my face and drew me closer. I shrugged to myself; well he won't remember this tomorrow anyway. I couldn't hold back anymore as his lips were suddenly inches away from mine. I'd wanted this for so long, I just never thought he'd go for me. He pressed his lips against mine and for the first time, I let myself go. I kissed back and his tongue ran across my lower lip making me gasp, accidentally giving him access. Spain's tongue hungrily explored my mouth and I couldn't hold back the moan that escaped my throat as he ran his tongue over my own.
We finally parted for air and his soft lips explored my neck. "Ah...Spagna..." I leaned into him and let myself enjoy it until his hands wandered to my belt. "That's enough, bastard!" I yelled, pushing him off as I finally came out of my daze. I knew I was blushing madly as I hid my face under the covers.
"Aw is my little tomatito embarrassed?" He cooed, trying to peel the covers back.
"I not little, a tomato, or yours! Bastard." I yelled back refusing to look at him.
He wrapped an arm around me and I felt him cuddle close. "No mi amour, you're wrong. You're mine and I'm never letting you go." He stroked my hair lightly and I had to bite down on the covers, as his hand grazed over my curl, trying not to moan.
"Stop it, idiota! Just go to sleep already!"
He laughed quietly in my ear. "Alright, alright." I listened as his breathing slowed and then he fell asleep. I tried not to feel upset when I reminded myself that he wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow. Well he'd never want me when he's sober anyway...
I woke up with my head resting on Spain's chest. "Good morning, mi amour." He murmured.
His voice made me jump then I froze. Wait, my love? Mio dio! Does he remember actually remember...? He placed a soft kiss on my lips before I could even protest. "Y-you remember last night?" I gasped out as I pulled away.
"Yeah I do. How could I forget something as important as that?" Spain grinned and my face reddened.
"No, you were so drunk, you weren't supposed to remember that!"
"Yeah I know, I'm surprised I remember as well. Don't be embarrassed Lovi, I love you and love me there's nothing wrong with that."
"I don't love you, idiot!"
"You do. I can see it in those beautiful olive eyes of yours. Say it."
"No way in hell!"
"Say it." He grinned, tugging on my curl.
"No..." I tried to sound firm, but my response came out in a moan. "Don't do that!" I slapped his hand away.
"Say it, tomatito..." He blinked those beautiful, endearing eyes at me and I scoffed.
What I hated most is that I don't hate him, not even a little. That's right, I love him, not that I'd ever tell the tomato bastard that. "Dammit." I grumbled, "I love you, mio idiota." Okay maybe I would tell him, but just this once.
A/N: So here's another random one-shot plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. I just like writing for these two. I hope you like, feel free to leave me a review to tell me what you think. Maybe you'll see more Spamano from me, probably.