The Final Dreams of Angels

AN: I needed immediate Spamano gratification. Thus this story came to be...should be working on final papers...five more minutes... I thought I should put this out now though. I'll check the interest in it after finals are over, then continue it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warning: Rated M for some very poor language from Romano. Future M for torture and loads of angst...Consider yourself warned.

Chapter 1: Angel's Smile

Spain always had pleasant dreams. Even if he couldn't remember them, he still woke up with a feeling of happiness and contentment that no other country persona was capable of. On this particular Friday morning he woke feeling happy without knowing why. His dream had been nothing special, just a generic one where he was out running, enjoying the sunlight and having a picnic with a typically grumpy Romano. "Romano!" shouted Spain happily as he jumped out of the bed. Of course that was why he felt so happy. The personification of South Italy always came to visit on Friday-unless he had to stay late to work for his boss, which meant that Spain become very sad and drove over to Romano's home for the weekend instead. Spain covered a yawn and got out of the bed with a stretch. "I wonder if Romano is already here..."

The nation slowly walked over to his dresser and pulled on a plain white shirt that matched the boxer shorts he had slept in. He covered another wide yawn and trudged out of the room and down the stairs. Spain walked over to the front room and pulled aside the thick drapes. He blinked into the bright sunlight as a contented smile covered his face. A quick scan of the empty driveway showed that Romano hadn't arrived yet. The smile fell a little bit and Spain sighed and let the curtain fall back in place.

Should he call Romano? He usually arrived even before Spain woke up. In fact, on Fridays he was often the reason Spain woke up, since he would let himself in and drag the Spaniard out of bed to make him breakfast. A small pout covered Spain's face as he wandered into the kitchen to start some coffee. He liked mornings like that. It gave him an excuse to be extra clingy-since he was usually half asleep-and was one of the only times Romano would let him be. There was always an angry explanation of course, something about how it was easier to drag the taller man out of the room if he carried his own weight. It didn't make much sense to Spain but he wouldn't complain if Romano would let him sneak in a few hugs before breakfast.

Spain sighed and walked over to the table before collapsing into one of the chairs. He smothered another yawn and rested his head on the tabletop. It was so tiring to even stand up on a day off...especially if there wasn't a cute Italian to help. Spain sighed again and crossed his arms on the table and turned his head to the other side. Glaring red numbers stared at him sideways from the stove. The man squinted his eyes tiredly and tried to make them out.

7:30

"Aw..." whined Spain as he buried his face in his arms with another childish pout. "He probably won't be here another hour or so. Why did I get up...? Maybe I should just go back to bed." Yet he did not move. He was far too tired and lazy to bother getting up, even if his coffee was nearly ready. The man vaguely considered just sleeping on the table. It wasn't comfy but he was too sleepy to care. And how sleepy he was...

A sudden noise jerked Spain out of his light slumber. He looked up with bleary eyes and blinked at the clock. 8:22. "I guess I did get some sleep," the nation muttered tiredly as he leaned back and stretched. His chair lifted onto the back two legs as his arms stretched behind him. Both shoulders gave a loud 'pop'. Spain sighed happily as his arms fell limply back to his sides. He looked around the room, now fully awake, trying to remember why he had woken up at all. Another sudden sound from outside-the slamming of a car door-made him perk up and jump out of the seat. Within moments Spain rushed out of the room and ran through the front door. A giddy laugh bubbled up as he ran around the front of the building towards the driveway. A particular Italian dressed in a dark suit came into view and Spain ran faster as a wide grin spread over his face.

Romano barely had time to lock his fancy red car before he was barreled into by the ecstatic Spaniard. He let out a panicked shout and nearly fell down before Spain's arms wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up. "B-bastard! What the hell are you doing?!" stuttered out the alarmed man as he tried to pull free. "Why are you even awake?"

"Lovi, I missed you!" Spain sang as he forced the smaller man closer. He buried his face in Romano's hair and breathed in the familiar scent of his shampoo, along with a hint of musk and saltwater. Romano must have taken the scenic route to get to Spain's house. A contented sigh left him as he nuzzled in closer despite the Italian's protests. Holding Romano, no matter how much he complained or made a show of trying to get away, was something that Spain knew they both enjoyed. Spain was pretty sure he enjoyed it a little bit more though, just because it was so rare and made a pleasant warm feeling blossom in his chest. "I got up early to meet you when you got here because I missed mi pequeño tomate so badly!" So what if he had just woken up for other reasons...Romano didn't really need to know that. "But I wouldn't miss you so much if you visited more."

"Stupid bastard...I visit every damn weekend! How much more do you think I can stay over?" grumbled the Italian as he elbowed Spain in the chest, who let go with a small protest. Romano stepped away and straightened up his dark gray suit. He took the opportunity to pull his suitcase out of the car and started walking towards the house.

The Spanish man trailed behind him, still talking. "You could just stay all week. Ah! You could move back in! Then I wouldn't miss you, and we could make dinner together every night and then stay up late and then sleep together and then in the mor-"

Romano slapped his free hand over the other man's mouth to silence him. A few more muffled words escaped him before Romano glared at him and Spain finally stopped trying to talk. An adorable blush had blossomed on the Italian's face but Spain didn't know why. "So help me God, NO. Sh-shut up before you say anything else stupid. I am not moving in. Now will you just let me go inside?!" Spain nodded and grabbed the smaller man's hand. He ignored the expected insults and dragged Romano towards the house. "I can walk on my own, stupid."

"I know! Otherwise I would be carrying you."

A strangled choking noise escaped the Italian as Spain happily pulled him into the house.

Twenty minutes later the pair had made their way to the living room and were watching television. The coffee Spain brewed earlier had turned cold, but a little doctoring up had made it acceptable to the Italian's palate. Two cups hadn't helped Spain stave off his sleepiness though. His eyes kept drifting closed as he tried to focus on the weather report for the next few days. It seemed like it would be warm enough for the picnic and beach trip he had planned for the next day, but the newscaster's voice was only an annoying, incomprehensible drone in his ears. Another nap looked very likely. Spain turned and looked at Romano, who was staring at the television with a bored expression as he drank his iced coffee. He wouldn't mind an early siesta, would he? Long drives were supposed to make people tired, so a nap was in order. The Italian's shoulder looked really comfy too...

Spain had almost drifted off to sleep again when Romano shoved the taller man's head off of his shoulder. "If you're so damn tired then just go to bed," he grumbled as he drank some of his iced coffee. The Spanish man just stared at him tiredly. He smothered a yawn and placed his head on Romano's shoulder again. The other nation glared and placed his coffee down on the table before saying, "Didn't I just say-"

"But I'm tired, Roma," Spain muttered against the other's neck. Before Romano could protest Spain had pushed his back down against the arm of the couch. The Iberian nation took his chance and laid down beside him, resting his head on South Italy's chest as his arms wound around his stomach to keep him locked in place. A daring yet tired smile played on his lips as he kept the other man from pulling away. "And you're a lot comfier than my bed."

"What does that mean, bastard? You think I'm fat and fluffy like your stupid, overstuffed pillows?" Romano pulled away and smacked Spain lightly on the head but was ignored and tugged back.

"Mi Lovi's much comfier than any pillow." Spain leaned up and kissed the underside of Romano's jaw before settling back on his chest, allowing his eyes to fall shut.

"You get a guest and all you want to do is sleep? I see how it is. You're just as lazy as usual."

An annoyed groan escaped Spain as he forced his eyes open again. He looked up and locked gazes with Romano. "I'm tired, Roma. All I want to do is cuddle and rest. Just for a few minutes, please? At least until the coffee kicks in. Then we can go make the pizza I promised you last week." It came out a bit more whiny than he intended, but the Spaniard was too sleepy to care. He closed his eyes a final time, determined to finally rest even if Romano continued to resist.

The pair of hesitant arms that wrapped around him brought a small smile to Spain's face before he fell back into sleep.

The small nap Spain had with Romano on the couch completely rejuvenated the tired nation. He was finally able to give the other man the attention he had deserved...only to find himself shoved off. Romano stomped away before he could stop him, making his way to the kitchen to start the pizza. With a sigh Spain followed. He knew that was all the affection he was going to get out of the grumpy nation for a while.

The Italian opened the fridge and started to push things around as he searched. "Hey, bastard! Where's the cheese?" asked Romano with a shout.

"What? I thought..." said Spain as he walked into the kitchen and went right up behind Romano. He looked over the shorter man's shoulder and scanned the contents of the fridge. Spain didn't notice South Italy's muttered curse as he pulled away. "Huh. I thought I bought some yesterday. I must have forgotten when I went off to get the sausage." Romano grumbled under his breath again and elbowed Spain in the stomach. "Roma! Why would you do that?" whined the Spanish man as he stepped back and covered his middle protectively.

Romano shot him a glare as he closed the fridge. He said, "You were too damn close. How could you forget the cheese?! We can't make pizza without cheese!"

"Ah, lo siento, Roma," Spain said apologetically. He rubbed his tender stomach as he took another step back. "I'll go buy some?"

The Italian muttered under his breath again and ran a hand through the side of his hair (careful to not touch the curl). He finally said, "No, I'll go buy some. My car's faster and you would get distracted looking at fish or talking to the cashier or something else just as stupid."

"I'm not that bad! Besides you're in my house. A good host would never allow their guest to do the grocery shopping."

"Shut up! A good host wouldn't have forgotten one of the most important ingredients if someone was coming over just to make pizza!" Romano said with a snort. He grabbed his car keys off the counter and walked towards the hallway. "Like I'm really a guest anyway. I come here practically every weekend," he finished softly to himself.

Spain pouted and followed Romano. Before the younger man could stop him Spain wrapped his arms tightly around Romano's waist and stopped his advance into the hall. "But I didn't forget the most important ingredient!" he complained.

"I know, bastard. I already saw the tomatoes in-"

"No, not the tomatoes. The most important ingredient is mi Lovinito!" chirped Spain as he pulled the other nation closer and nuzzled into his neck. Romano sputtered out incoherent protests as his face heated up. The Italian struggled against Spain's hold and the taller man merely laughed and hugged him tighter. His large arms were more than capable of keeping the squirming Romano locked in an embrace. "What would I do if the most important ingredient left?" Spain asked innocently as he rested his chin on Romano's shoulder. He resisted a squeal when he saw a bright red blush rise up over the Italian's tanned cheeks.

After trying to push the tight arms off Romano realized that he couldn't get free. He flushed deeper and finally stopped struggling, resting his hands on the other man's arms. Most likely waiting for Spain to relax his hold so the Italian could push his way free. "L-let go, bastard," Romano grumbled out, turning to glare at the grinning Spaniard's face.

Spain sighed dramatically and loosened his hold on the smaller nation. His hands fell to rest on the Italian's hips. "Make sure you hurry back," he muttered against Romano's neck, his nose pressed to the soft auburn hair. The Italian made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and pulled away. A whine escaped Spain as he moved his arms quickly to circle Romano's shoulders and pull him back. "It's like you just got here. I don't want you to go yet."

"If you hadn't slept the whole time..." Romano rolled his eyes as he slowly lifted his hands up. He grabbed onto the sides of Spain's shirt and tried to push him away, but did not put much effort into it. Spain tightened his hold and gently nuzzled into the shorter man's hair. A soft expression covered his face as he pressed a gentle kiss to the Italian's temple. Another deep blush covered Romano's cheeks as he mumbled, "I'll be right back."

"I miss you when you're gone."

"I know, bastard. You always tell me."

"But I mean it every time!"

"Shut up and let me go already. The sooner I leave the sooner I can get back."

"If I have to..."

"Yes, you do. Now. Get. Off." Romano finally pulled away from Spain. The taller man let his arms fall from the other nation's shoulders with a sigh.

Spain's pout was quickly replaced with a small smile. "Hurry back," he said, "I'll get the dough started." Romano nodded in response. He grabbed his keys off the counter and was out the door before Spain could try to stop him again. The older man walked over to the window and watched him jump into his bright red car. "Ah...you could have said goodbye," the Spaniard muttered with a chuckle. It didn't bother him. He knew how evasive Romano could get when he was embarrassed. The ferrari's engine revved outside in response before it took off down the country road and out of sight. "Well, no time to waste! Better start that pizza dough or Romano will be angry when he gets back." As cute as that would be, Spain would prefer a happy and well-fed Lovino to a starved one. So he walked back to the kitchen and pulled out the flour.

Thirty minutes later, Spain's melodic voice filled the kitchen accompanied by the soft bubbling of tomato sauce on the stove. The song slowly fell to a gentle hum as Spain concentrated on kneading a large handful of dough. He did not notice the spattering of flour on his arms and clothes. No one who knew him would have expected him to notice much of anything

The bright notes of Spain's ringtone broke through the man's concentration. Spain grinned and tried to wipe his hands clean on his tan apron-he didn't succeed much-before he answered the phone. "Romano~! Did you find the cheese yet? The sauce is coming together nicely and I'm finishing-"

"Dammit, I don't care about the stupid pizza! I've got something a little more important than that!" snapped Romano. Spain could hear the man's annoyed tone but it only made his smile widen.

Spain teasingly asked, "What? Mi Romanito doesn't care about pizza? Who are you and what have you done with Romano?"

"This is no time for games! I'm being followed!"

"In the store? Well, you do have that habit of putting things in your pockets. Maybe if you tell the employees tha-"

"Maledizione! I'm not in the store anymore, bastardo! There are three black cars following me," shouted the angry Italian with a few added curses muttered under his breath. If Spain concentrated he could make out a few car horns and rumbling engines, but he wasn't concentrating on the background sounds.

A look of worry crossed Spain's face. "Are you sure they're following you?" he questioned. Romano affirmed it and Spain bit his lip. He pulled off the apron and tossed it towards the table, lunch forgotten. He quickly walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Then hurry back, Lovi. Where are you? Have you seen anyone in the cars?"

"No, they've all got tinted windows. Ugly cars though. So slow. I could get away if only there wasn't so much traffic!"

"Lo siento, Lovi. I forgot it would be busy right now," muttered Spain as he pulled on a pair of shoes, "Where are you? I'll drive out there and-what was that sound?!"

"The bastard just tried to rear end me! I swear, if we weren't on this damn bridge-" A screech of metal-on-metal drowned out what Romano said next. Spain's heart sunk and he braced a hand on a nearby wall. His eyes widened in horror as a second, more distinctive sound broke through: a gunshot. "G-God damn, those fuckers don't give up..." grumbled Romano, causing a wave of relief to flood Spain for a moment. He quickly caught himself though. Romano might not have been shot right then, but he was still out there with three strange cars filled with people who were trying to shoot him. It was no time to relax.

"Roma, where are you?" pleaded Spain as he got into his own car and started the engine. A string of Italian expletives was his only answer. "Romano, listen to me! Tell me where you are!"

"Calle Segunda. Just past the bridge. Those bastards drive faster than I thought!"

"I'll be there. Get away from them as fast as you can! You still have a gun in the car, right?"

"Of course I do!"

"Good. Then keep them away until I get there," Spain said as calmly as he could manage. "Stay on the line with me. Are there still only three cars?"

"Yeah, just three of the fuckers are-dammit, Spain! I can't drive around them and hold a phone at the same time!"

"Don't hang up on me, Romano, please! I need-" A definitive click was followed by silence. Spain let out an uncharacteristic curse and threw his phone down in the passenger seat. He quickly pulled out of his driveway and sped off towards the city. The screech of tires pealing out drowned out his thoughts as he pushed harder on the gas. Romano was just a few minutes away if he drove fast enough. And he was a Mediterranean country: he drove fast, especially when someone as important as Romano was in danger. Yet the pain in his chest promised something far different...