Chapter 1: What Did You Do?

Okay, so let's get one thing straight. I was not visiting Spain because I missed that tomato-bastard. I was just visiting because if I didn't he would start to pout and whine and when that didn't work (shut up, that shit doesn't work on me), he would start to call me and leave obnoxious messages on my home phone as well as my cell phone.

Yes, the only way to prevent that headache was to just give in now and get the damned visit over and done with. Besides, if the last World Conference was any indication, then that bastard was just a few days away from showing up unannounced on my front lawn, demanding to be let in and 'let boss give his little tomate a hug.'

And before you accuse me of showing up unannounced, I'd told the bastard at the last meeting I'd drop by soon. You know, if I felt like it. It just coincidentally happened to be the day after the meeting…I didn't miss that bastard. I just told him I'd visit to get him to stop chasing me around at the meeting yesterday. I was only here so he wouldn't do it again.

I parked in front of said bastard's house, if you could call it that, it was more like a huge-ass mansion. I still had unpleasant memories of getting lost in those damn corridors as a child. As I stepped out of my Italia and looked at the large house looming over me, I seriously contemplated getting back in and driving the hell back home before he realized I was here. But of course luck was never on my side and no sooner had I started to step back into the car did the front door slam open.

"Lovi~" I wasn't even given a chance to break into a sprint before he tackled me into a hug. If you could call the rib crushing attack such a thing. "I knew you'd visit today!" He cried, squeezing me even harder before comparing me to a damn tomato.

"You didn't know jack-shit, asshole. Now let go of me," I snarled trying to headbutt him. "And don't call me a tomato!"

When the bastard finally let me go – I mean when I overpowered him with my strength and badassery (shut up, it exists), I attempted to straighten out my crinkled clothing but was prevented once again when Spain somehow managed to lace his fingers through mine (no, I did not let him) and pull me towards the house.

"Come inside, Lovi~! You're a little earlier than I thought you'd be. You missed Big Boss Spain didn't you?" I'm pretty sure I told him to go fuck himself, but he either didn't hear or didn't give a shit. Could honestly be either.

"Oh well, it doesn't matter if you're early or not, mi precioso tomate! I made enough breakfast for both of us and for…" I'm sure as anyone who knows Spain, knows that he just rambled from that point on about whatever random shit entered his brain, or whatever it is that served as a brain (it was probably a tomato).

I attempted to act disgusted with having to eat the breakfast that was all but shoved at me but that was difficult because, I'd give that bastard one thing, he was a fantastic cook. I'd never admit that of course, not even if I was being threatened with England's cooking. Bastard would only call me cute and try and hug me some more if I told him that. Oh, and let's get one thing straight right now: Lovino Romano Vargas is not cute. Not ever.

Glad we cleared that up.

"I suppose it's not too bad – bastard." I managed to quickly add at the last second. Recently, for some unexplainable reason, I'd been forgetting to insult Spain…If you could consider the last couple of decades as recent – But what did that fucking matter when you lived as long as we did? No, this lack of insults was surely because he'd been acting like less of a dumbass.

I looked over at the tomato-bastard only to find him trying to communicate with one of his numerous turtles, I was pretty sure the damn thing had been sitting on top of his head when he greeted (mugged) me at my car. I'd never understand where the fuck they came from or where they disappeared to.

Nope, he was just as much of a dumbass as usual…so did that mean I was getting soft? Was I willingly being nicer to the bastard…

Hell no.

Just for good measure I (gently, more of a nudge really) kicked the bastard as I made my way to the sink where I dumped my dishes for Spain to clean up before proceeding to the living room.

"Oww, Lovi. So mean to your poor boss," He over exaggeratedly whined, attempting once again to hug me and somehow managing to succeed (I did not let him I tell you!). "Why are you so mean, mi tomate?"

I swatted his hands away when I saw him reaching for my curl. "Because you're too goddamn handsy. And don't call me Lovi!" I shrugged out of his hold and finally made my way unhindered to the living room, leaving the bastard to cry on the floor, because yes, I was just that badass. It wasn't that he gave up more easily than he usually does and simply gone back to cleaning the dishes.

"Pomodoro bastardo. What makes him think he can hug me whenever he wants?" I grouched."He's lucky I don't feel like dealing with the mafia, but I swear if that bastard tries anything funny one more time, he is–"

"Is what, Romano?" I froze mid-step, halting in the doorframe as my eyes landed on the speaker, who, for all intents and purposes looked just like the bastard I'd left (probably) crying in the kitchen, pining after my hugs. The only difference was he was wearing the clothes he used to back in his pirate days and was smirking at me in a very non-Antonio sort of way. If I didn't know any better I'd say it was flirty, but that bastard knew better than to try that shit with me (unless he had been out drinking with those losers he calls friends and shows up drunk at my house).

"What the hell are you doing dressed like that?" I frowned, finally managing to pull my eyes away from his clothes. I don't think I'd noticed as a kid just how tight those pants were or how that plunging neckline showed off the vast majority of his chest – Not that I took much notice of it now! "Better yet, how did you have time to change into that and get here before me? I just left you in the kitchen."

Spain, pirate garb and all, backed me up against the wall, blocking me from escape with an arm on either side of my head. If I wasn't so scar–indifferent, (I wasn't scared of anything, least of all this bastard) then I'd probably be more concerned with how close Spain was and how his grin had turned smugger, if that was even possible.

"I swear, Spain, if this another one of those pranks that fuckface France and potato-bastard number two put you up to, I will–"

"You'll what, Roma?" He all but purred, leaning into me now. "Please tell me," He said, voice low and right against my ear, causing heat to rise to my face, no doubt making me turn pink. I was sure that any minute now Spain would drop this whole act and start cooing about how adorable I was and for once in my life I wished he would.

"Tan hermoso, Roma." Spain whispered, his hands dropping from their place on the wall to rest just above my hips.

"S-Spain," I said, I did not whimper, "what are you doing?" I'd never seen Antonio act like this, not even during his pirate days, not towards me at least. Then again I was practically a kid back then and no matter how much I teased the bastard about it, Spain was not a goddamned, sick pervert. Spain's only problem was that he was just a little too obsessed with cute things (not to say I'm cute in any way or ever was) and he acted like even more of a dumbass than usual when confronted with something terribly cute.

More importantly, why was he calling me Roma? He had only used Romano or Roma when I'd first moved in, but (after realizing that I was there to stay) he quickly switched to Lovino or Lovi and instead used Romano exclusively for the times I was in trouble. In more recent times, he used it whenever I'd genuinely managed to hurt his feelings, which hadn't happened in decades, so why was he calling me Roma like we were strangers again?

"What does it look like, mi querido?" He crooned, rolling the r in a way that made me shiver. With discomfort. Obviously.

It wasn't until he nibbled on the tip of my ear did I snap out of my daze and headbutt his sorry ass away from me. Now usually when I headbutt Spain, he backed off quickly and whined like the bitch he is about how mean I am, but this time he just barely stepped away and he looked pissed more than anything. Bearing that in mind, I ran for it. As a kid I'd never once been scared of Spain, but right now I suddenly knew how the people facing him or his armada must have felt. If I didn't get out of there fast he might hurt me…or do something weird again.

"Stay away from me, bast–Spain," I yelped as I heard him gaining on me. It probably wasn't a good idea to call the crazy pirate chasing you a bastard.

I'm not sure at what point I had started to run to my old room, but no sooner had I started towards the flight of stairs did I run into something. Now, I'll admit I've always been clumsy, and couldn't clean for shit because of it, but I've never actually run headfirst into walls.

I looked up into very familiar, green eyes and immediately my heart froze. How had he managed to get in front of me? I attempted to turn back around and dart away again but arms like steel bars wrapped themselves around me and kept me held against an equally unyielding chest.

"Please, Spain, let me go," I begged, struggling vainly to break free. "I didn't mean to hit you, honest. I – It's just – you were being weird and–"

"Calm down, Romano," He grumbled, loosen his grip slightly and holding me at a distance so that he could look me over. "Why are you running? Is France here? Or is it Turkey?"

Once again my brain shut down as I took in not only the complete switch in personality (yet again) but the outfit change. Spain now looked like he did back in his conquistador days, armor and all. His halberd was even strapped to his back.

"Wh-what?" What was he talking about? I hadn't seen the fuckface since the World Conference and although he had attempted to molest me, no more so than usual, Spain had politely warned him to stop; if a couple broken fingers could be considered a polite warning (I personally thought it was too polite as far as France was concerned).

As for Turkey, I hadn't really seen that bastard in person for any extended period of time, since he'd tried to kidnap me as a kid. Nowadays, I only ever saw Turkey in passing and even then it wasn't not like he made any threats towards me. Then again, Spain was always very close by whenever Turkey was around. I think that he might have had something to do with why the tomato-bastard was chasing me around during the last meeting. But probably not.

"Have they hurt you, Romano? Because I can assure you that once I deal with them they'll never bother you again," Spain promised. If I hadn't been in a state of panic I might have taken advantage of the offer and had him destroy that degenerate he calls a friend, but as it stood, I was not in the right state of mind to care about ridding the world of the fuckface.

"What? No, I–"

"Ah, there you are, Roma." That smug voice was directly behind me. How was it behind me? "I was wondering where you had run off to, you always were the fast one." I attempted to turn around in Spain's arms. There was no way this was happening, I had to be hearing things. "Why don't you hand him over, España?" The arms around me further constricted. "I promise to take good care of mi Romano." I shuddered, unsure whether to be afraid of that promise or skeeved out.

"No, Spain. You will not be allowed to corrupt my colony," the conquistador warned his counterpart. I figured now was not the time to inform him of my current independent status or how I hadn't been his colony for centuries now.

I looked nervously between the two of them. Either I was having a nervous breakdown or this was one fucked up dream. I mean, my dreams were usually pretty fucked up, but nothing like this.

"Hey, Lovi~" I could feel my eyes grow impossibly wider. "What's going on out here? I heard all this noise and I thought maybe my cute little tomate had hurt himself, and – Oh." He grinned at not only me but his doppelgangers. "I see you found the others."

"You mean you knew about them?" I screeched, once again struggling to get out of España's hold (I was just going to refer to conquistador Spain as España now, maybe that would reduce the possibility of my head imploding), this time struggling so I could strangle that oblivious bastard who was still cooing about how damn cute I was what with my flushed face (I was not blushing! I was probably red from exertion. It took a lot of effort to escape España's hold).

"Well yeah, Lovi. I woke up this morning and they were here," He replied with a shrug as if such an occurrence was the most natural thing in the world.

"And you didn't think something was wrong? You really are a dumbass," I growled. "How did this even happen?"

Pirate Spain seemed to have grown bored with the whole conversation and was once again attempting to get España to let go of me so he could resume 'playing with his little Roma.' Were I not so thoroughly restrained by España, I would have punched Spain in the face.

"Well. I'm not sure, Lovi." Spain – you know what, I was just going to call him Antonio from now on (only in my head, of course, cause if I called the bastard by his human name he'd be so damn pleased he'd hug me until I couldn't breathe and there was no way I'd give him that satisfaction). Anyways, Antonio actually made to look like he was pondering over the dilemma before he shrugged and returned to giving me a goofy grin.

"Okay. So let me get this straight. There are now three of you tomato-bastards running around?"

"That is correct," España responded before reprimanding me on my language.

"I think so," Antonio muttered, "I haven't seen any others, but it's possible! How fun would that be Lovi?"

I glared at him and assured him that "No, dammit, that would not be fun!"

"Come on, España, I just want to talk to my little Roma. He's grown up so beautifully. Please give him to me," Spain continued to beg, still ignoring the current situation.

"There are three of you. Great as if one tomato-bastard wasn't enough," I mumbled. "Alright, well that's all I wanted to know." I then faint–passed out. Real manly like and…yeah…

Oh shut the fuck up, you'd have done the same thing in my situation.