I just thought to myself, "well you already have so many unfinished stories. How about another one?"

Please just kill me. Just enD ALREADY HELP.

I'll explain the complex bullshit at the end. Just enjoy the beginning, if you can.


The Spaniard let out a small yawn, wiping sweat off his forehead with a dirt-stained hand. Picking tomatoes was tons of fun, but the amount of work that went into it made him absolutely exhausted. Unfortunately, he wasn't even finished for the day, he still had about three hours more of work cut out for him. Still, a little break never hurt anybody. He went inside of his home, sighing happily at the cool air that greeted him.

"Hey, bastardo, we aren't finished yet!" Spain glanced at the owner of that sharp, insistent voice, who was standing in the doorway and purposely letting all of the cold air out. He received a venomous glare in return. "Don't think I'm going to do all the work either! You're not my boss anymore, so I can leave if I want to!" The Italian placed a defiant hand on his hip, a small huff escaping his lips.

Despite this verbal abuse, Spain smiled at the short, lithe man in front of him. "Of course not, Romano. I'm just taking a quick break! It's really hot out there, you know? Have a drink, and maybe a quick snack! Want something to eat?" He knew the short-tempered Italian couldn't resist the offer of food, especially food from his former boss.

"Well...fine. Just something small though! I'm not spending the whole night at this dump just because you want to have a meal!" He slammed the door shut, sitting down at the little table located in the kitchen. Spain knew better, Romano always ended up staying the night when he came to pick tomatoes, it was unavoidable. However, the last time he pointed this out, the Italian nation threw a fit and kicked Spain in the stomach in retaliation. Not exactly his cutest memory of Romano.

Spain nodded, looking down at his hands in disgust. "Let me wash up first in the bathroom, okay, Roma? You can use the kitchen sink, if you like." Yet another thing to remember about the shorter male, he disliked being in both the bathroom and bedroom alone with Spain (of course, the Spaniard could usually convince him after hours of begging to give in to the second one). Romano shrugged, disinterested with this information. With a little hum, he spun on his heels and made the short trip to the bathroom upstairs.

As he washed his filthy hands, Spain thought of how nice it was to have Romano over, despite how much the tiny nation complained. It was calming having his ex-henchman here with him, to have him yell angrily whenever Spain made him blush, to have him smile in the cutest possible way when he picked a particularly plump tomato. He adored Romano. Loved him, even.

The Spaniard dried his hands off, looking somewhat forlorn. He loved Romano. More than a nation should love another. He just wanted to kiss the Italian sometimes, to make him out of breath and panting and wanting more. Spain longed to feel soft skin beneath his fingertips, to have Romano chant his name breathlessly over and over again.

But these thoughts were forbidden. He had practically raised the shorter man, what would he think if Spain just outright kissed him one day? He'd probably cry, and yell at his ex-caretaker, before running back to his own country. This was a good relationship. Spain couldn't be the one to mess it up over some filthy desires.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn't so bad, was he? If there was anything he liked about his appearance, it was his eyes. They were a bright, vivid green. Green to match one of the colors on a certain nation's flag...

Spain was forcefully torn away from these thoughts by two hands suddenly shooting out of the mirror and grabbing his face.

His immediate reaction was to stand there, dumbfounded as the hands felt up his cheeks, caressed his neck, and pet his shoulders. All at once, he was yanked face first toward his own reflection. Finally gathering his wits, he screamed, holding onto the sink tightly.

"Romano? Romano!" He shrieked, as his face was tugged closer. He was squirming so much, how strong were these hands? "Ayúdame! Por favor ayúdame!" He turned over, now sitting on top of the sink. The hands did not cease, once wrapped around his neck to pull him back, the other mysteriously absent. Somehow, it was still difficult to fight off one.

"Oh, for fuck sake, what is i-" Romano opened the door, freezing up at the sight he was greeted with. Spain was about to be pulled into...the mirror?

"Don't just stand there!" Spain cried out, hysterical. "Pull me back in! Romano, please do-" But when something sharp pricked his neck, the Spaniard was unable to speak. His eyes shut, mind slowly going blank. Had this person just...injected something into him?

Spain let himself be pulled into the mirror, the horrified screams of Romano fading away. He felt very tired, but peaceful. He was being put onto a soft, warm bed. How nice. Do mirrors usually have beds within them? Sounded like a silly thought.

He heard someone giggle, and felt a baby soft hand stroke his cheek. That felt nice... "Go to sleep, mio amore. You're home now..." crooned a soothing voice above him. As consciousness slipped away from Spain, the last thought to process was 'that sounds just like Romano...'


"So Spain was just...pulled through the mirror?" England asked, for the umpteenth time. Seriously, how stupid was this asshole? He was just as thick as his eyebrows. Romano was really getting sick of him asking the same question instead of helping. Spain was pulled through the fucking mirror, they needed to do something!

"Yes, he was pulled into the God forsaken mirror. How many times are you going to ask? Now get the fuck in there, and get him back before I kick your ass!" Romano barked, though everyone present in the room (the Allied assholes, along with Veneziano and his two lame friends) knew that this was an empty threat. Both Italies feared the British nation to this day.

America stepped forward, tapping on the glass. "I don't know how you expect us to. We'll break the thing if we tried, then Spain would never come back!" He watched Romano grow pale at these words, and yelped when he was smacked in the arm by China. "What? What'd I say?"

France tsked, shaking his head. "This is a waste of time. I think that perhaps the adorable, little Romano was asleep, and his dreams got too vivid. I don't see how Spain could have been pulled into a mirror."

Romano tried to attack the Frenchman, but was pulled back by his insufferable little brother. "Fuck off, wine bastard! I was not dreaming! I saw Spain get pulled into that damn mirror with my own two eyes!"

"That is impossible!" France countered, but was brushed off by England.

"No, it isn't. I think that Romano is telling the truth," he said, earning surprised looks from everyone. Unfazed, he continued, "You see, there is a universe that exists. It is identical to ours in every way. Except for one thing, and that's the nations that rule it. They are much more gritty, and less sympathetic, but they are technically us. Sort of the like the parallel versions to ourselves. They may run their country the same, but the way they treat each other is...well, less desirable than even us."

"What does this have to do with big brother Spain being pulled into the mirror?" Veneziano inquired, hugging trying to hug both Romano and Germany, but his brother's dislike of his friend prevented this.

"Every hundred years, our universes are close enough that, for a few days, we can actually interact with one another through magic. Since they are our opposites, in a sense, any kind of reflection can work as a portal to their world." England paused, tapping the mirror just like America had. "I think that someone from that world used magic to open the portal and pull our Spain in."

Romano, being the only one who seemingly wasn't stunned by this, crossed his arms and walked closer to the mirror. "So we need to go to this place and get Spain back, right? Fine. So do your shitty magic already and get him back."

England made an exasperated sound. "It isn't that simple, Romano! I can't just say any old spell to open the portal, there's a very specific one I need! Not to mention, that Spain's house hardly has any magical element to it in the slightest." He thought for a moment, turning his attention to the other nations. "If you'd like to come with me, I'd appreciate it, but we're going to do this at my house. We won't be able to go to the exact place Spain was taken, but I'm sure it won't be difficult tracking down who did this. Who's willing to go?"

"Of course, dude!" America proclaimed, slapping England on the back with a good natured grin. "Let's do this! We're gonna be heroes!"

One by one, the other nations agreed to help as well, Veneziano being the most excited to help. "I already have a white flag ready in case we need to surrender!" he chirped.

England glanced at Romano, raising a single, bushy eyebrow. "Are you going to come as well?"

Romano was looking into the mirror, gazing at his own reflection. He could have saved Spain. He should've grown a pair, and pull him back into the bathroom. This was his fault. ". I'm going to beat the shit out of the weirdo who did this."

He'd make it up to Spain. No matter what.


Spain woke up with his head resting on someone's lap, and a hand stroking his hair in a comforting way. It was nice, and it didn't occur to him then that he had just been pulled through his bathroom mirror into an unknown dimension.

"Buongiorno, my pet. Did you sleep well?" cooed the person who he was resting against, his finger twirling a lock of brown hair. For a second, Spain was relieved. This had to be Romano, it sounded just like him. "You kept tossing and turning, amore, I was worried you were having a terrible dream..."

The names disturbed Spain, but just waking up made everything disoriented, and he simply figured Romano was being nice. "Oh, I was, Roma! I dreamt about being pulled into the mirror..." He opened his eyes, glancing up at the Italian. "It was just so-" He suddenly stopped, eyes wide with horror.

This wasn't Romano. Well, no, that wasn't quite true. His facial features were identical to the grumpy nation's, as was the special curl that bounced cheerfully. The similarities ended there. Instead of the auburn color Spain was so accustomed to, this lookalike had sunny blond hair. His eyes were fuchsia, with a mischievous spark to them. Replacing the dirty work clothes the nation had on before was an expensive looking white suit, with a pink scarf thrown carelessly around his neck.

He was grinning down at Spain, aware of the other's realization. "Surprise! Did you really think I was your Romano? As cute as you are, you're a little thick." He tapped his head playfully. "I would've thought that the adorable names I picked out would've clued you in! Guess not!"

"Eh?" Spain tried to get away from this double, but found he could barely wriggle away from the blond's lap. Looking down, it occurred to him that his left foot was cuffed to the bed. "What's going on? Who are you?" He tried to shake his leg desperately, to free himself of the restraint.

"Calm down, darling, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that," he chided, running his fingers through his hair with an almost fascinated look on his face. "I'll explain everything to you. Just lay back and relax, okay?" Spain found it difficult to just lean back into his captor, but the Italian's insistent look made it clear he had no choice in the matter. So he laid back, resting his head on his lap once again.

"That's better. Now then, an explanation..." Spain felt the other's fingers tap his arm in thought. "Well, I am Romano. Just not exactly the one you know. Right now, you're where all the nations of the world exist, but we're nothing like you guys. Think of it as an alternate universe of sorts. Instead of your cruel, wicked Romano, you have me! Sweet, loving, fashionable Flavio."

Spain felt personally offended that this person had called his Romano wicked. "Flavio? I thought you said you were Romano..."

"I am. See, we're a lot more population-oriented here. We like to interact with our citizens much more than you silly nations. So we like to use human names to give the people something to identify with. Besides, wouldn't it be easier to just call me a different name than Romano?" Flavio inquired, running a thumb down the Spaniard's cheek. He didn't wait for an answer. "The reason you're here, Spagna, is really quite simple. I'm in love with you."

Spain jerked, nearly falling off of Flavio's lap, but the Italian held him in place tightly. "Love? I don't understand...you don't even know me..." Spain protested, earning a soft chuckle from his captor.

"Oh, but I do. I've been watching you, Spain, for so long. I fell in love with how kind and gentle you are, with how you always seem to look for the bright side of things. I was so jealous that my counterpart got to have you. He doesn't even appreciate all you do for him..." Flavio shook his head, a sour look on his delicate features. Then, he smiled wistfully. "I would appreciate you."

The Spanish nation was getting a bit uncomfortable hearing these things, not to mention the fact that this person had been watching him. Still, he tried to be polite. "I'm flattered, Flavio. But I can't stay here with you. I have my own Romano to get back to. I know he seems mean, but he's just shy about his feelings." After being with him for so long, Spain truly believed this. However, the Italian above him only scoffed.

"I'm sure," he said sarcastically, with a little shake of his head. "But I don't want you to stay here forever. I mean, how unfair would that be? One day with you, that's all I ask. Tomorrow morning, if you really want to return to your world, I'll let you go without any trouble."

Spain raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "One day? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Well...I guess it wouldn't hurt," he agreed reluctantly with a frown. Would a day really be so bad? Flavio didn't seem like he was a violent type. Then again, he did manage to kidnap and restrain Spain. "But you'll let me go tomorrow morning, right when I wake up, ?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, bello," he chirped, doing a crisscross motion on his chest. "Now, since that's out of the way, are you hungry? Thirsty, maybe?"

Spain opened his mouth to decline, then shut it slowly. Come to think of it, he never got a drink or a snack after all of the exhausting work he did in his universe. His mouth was dry, stomach empty. "Yes to both...if it isn't too much trouble, that is."

Flavio sighed happily, kissing one of the Spaniard's cheeks quickly, making the other flinch. "You are just too sweet! I can't even take it!" With a chuckle, he reached over to the bedside table, taking a bright red tomato and a black cup.

Spain was a bit put off with the kiss, and took the two items without thinking. "Gracias..." He looked down at the cup, frowning at the peculiar hot pink liquid. "What is this?"

"Oh, that? It's this fantastic juice that's really popular in Italy right now!" exclaimed the Italian, with an excited grin. "My brother bought so much of it, so I have a whole lot for me and you! Taste it, isn't it divine?"

With a reluctant nod, Spain took a sip, nearly jumping back in shock. This drink wasn't just divine, it was heavenly. The best thing to ever grace the nation's tongue. It tasted like...all the good things in life. He nearly choked as he drank the whole thing, whining slightly when it was all gone. Flavio's tinkling giggle brought him out of his trance.

"Good, huh? I'll give you more later, we can't waste the whole supply." He kissed his cheek again, and Spain didn't flinch this time, as if he expected it. "Eat your tomato. They're your favorite, aren't they?"

The more that Spain ate, the more he began to feel comfortable around this person. Flavio had been watching him, knew everything about him, and fell in love? After Romano had told him again and again how ridiculous he was and how much he hated him. It wasn't creepy, it truly was flattering. Even more so, it made the nation feel loved.

Perhaps he could enjoy this day after all.


Wow this is so dumb but I'm going to continue it because I am awful.

So I love the 2Ps and? They deserve more love, especially 2p!Romano. My baby boy.

The rating will go up because sex and yeah. Okay bye feedback is nice please