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Post by Spain on May 10, 2010 18:30:42 GMT -5
Antonio was just falling asleep, lulled by the warmth of the ITalian next to him and the cool surface of his pillow, when the sudden crack of head against headboard awoke him. The Spaniard jumped up immediately and gasped, scooping up the frail Italian's head to rest in his lap and flailing a bit. "Ehh?! Lovi?!"
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Post by England on May 10, 2010 20:29:51 GMT -5
After a long moment, brown eyes snapped open. Where...? Where was he? Hazily, Romano took in the face above him. Spain... spain was here, which meant it was okay but... something was off. The first thing that he noticed was... that spain had no shirt on. Which led to the realization that he also wasn't wearing any pants and that Romano's head was laying... on... his... naked... lap.
"FUCK SPAIN! WHAT THE HELL!" he jerked up, rubbing his aching head and darting back against the headboard. "PERVERTED BASTARD!" he continued to yell, face bright red. It distracted him from what was wrong - because even though having spain above him naked was off (he didn't get very many chances to get naked with spain anymore... since the war was on...) but it wasn't the real wrongness...
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Post by Spain on May 10, 2010 20:41:26 GMT -5
Antonio nearly dropped the Italian out of pure shock; he wasn't expecting to be woken up to the other screaming. Assuming he was okay, the Spaniard tilted his head, looking at the Italian, dead confused. "Lovi...a-are you okay? Is your head okay?"
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Post by England on May 10, 2010 23:21:59 GMT -5
"FUCK Spain!" his face was bright red, he could tell. "What the hell is your problem!" he looked around desperatly as he noticed he wasn't in his room, Spain's room or any of the many tents he'd had to stay in the last few years in the war. "And where the fuck are we?!?"
He couldn't really remember exactly where he'd been last - but he couldn't smell gunpowder, or medicine or sickness which meant he was too far away from the war to - then he realized that he didn't feel any of the many injuries he'd had. "... what the hell is going on?" he trailed off, sounding very near a panic.
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Post by Spain on May 10, 2010 23:30:18 GMT -5
"What's going on?" Something was wrong with Lovino, and the Spaniard was completely clueless. Antonio sat up straight and looked him over, sensing the panic in the other's voice--in what he called his "boss senses", he could almost always tell when something was wrong with him. "We're on La Maria Madre. You had a nightmare last night, and I came to rest with you. Why...?"
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Post by England on May 11, 2010 0:02:21 GMT -5
He'd never heard of 'La Maria Madre' before in his long life - nor did he remember having a nightmare the night before. And... he felt far from home - far from Italy. A sharp intake of breath - he couldn't even feel Veneziano.
"Spain! What's happened to Veneziano!? I can't feel him at all!" and he panicked - the little brother that he'd always had that link to, that annoying little brat who drew better art and made better food and had an obsession with a German nation who was leading them through this war and Romano hated him so much! He couldn't even feel his rosary! The beads around his neck weren't worn in the right places, the whole thing felt fresh and new and unused.
"What's going on!?!?" he grabbed onto Spain's shoulders with a vice-like grip fueled by fear. "I don't get it... where am I...?" he couldn't see through the tears that were building up in his eyes but Spain... Spain would know, wouldn't he?
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Post by Spain on May 11, 2010 6:16:31 GMT -5
"Who's Veneziano?" he asked, slowly, tilting his head--then Lovino grabbed onto him. Antonio hated seeing his first mate upset, but oh, was he upset; it was even more frustrating to the Spaniard that he couldn't tell why. Antonio reached up to thumb the tears away from his cheeks. "I didn't think you hit your head that hard...you're with me! The ship docked here, and you went to the cabins not feeling well, I came to check on you..."
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Post by England on May 11, 2010 10:16:19 GMT -5
Forgetting that Spain was naked, Romano curled up in his arms. He hadn't done that in a long time (not since the wars started...) but it still felt as safe as always. Shivering, he shook his head. "Sh-ship?" did they go back in time? Because the last time he'd been on a ship with Spain, it had been when the older Nation had been so proud of his Armada that he took Romano on his first sea voyage. Back in time might explain why his rosary felt so new... and why everything felt so off... but it was impossible to go back in time! "I-is this... one of your Armada?"
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Post by Spain on May 11, 2010 10:55:44 GMT -5
Armada. That word. That should not have made him react the way it did. A shiver shot down his spine, his green eyes shooting wide. So many memories all at once; a storm, a green eyed face laughing at him, so much burning burning burning--!
Still holding the Italian in his arms, Antonio's head slumped against the pillows; darkness clouded his vision. It was what felt like hours--no, centuries--later, when he finally awoke...to the sight he never thought he'd see again.
Lovino.
Living, breathing (and not lying on the ground, bleeding, dying, oh God there had been nothing he could do!) and alive. Antonio took in a slow, deep breath; it came out in a sob as he threw his arms around Lovino and kissed him, relief coming out of him in waves.
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Post by England on May 11, 2010 11:03:35 GMT -5
At first, Romano felt a little indignant as it looked as if Spain suddenly decided to have a siesta right when he demanded answers. But when green eyes opened again and Romano prepared to yell at him he was stopped by the... by the sheer desperation in those eyes. And the sob - oh god, it had been forever since he heard such a sound from his Boss. So the potential yell was about to become a query as to what was wrong... when Spain lunged forward and kissed him.
That was a surprise as usually the other was so dopey Romano would either just get pecks on the cheek or had to point out that he wanted a proper kiss. This one felt as desperate as the look in the other mans eyes - so instead of head butting the bastard as he normally would... he returned it, embarrassed by the need to comfort the older Nation but at the same time... enjoying the fact that they were kissing - something they hadn't been able to do in god knows how long.
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Post by Spain on May 11, 2010 11:08:38 GMT -5
Tears streamed down the Spaniard's face as he leaned into the kiss, pouring every emotion he possibly could into it; desire, love, need, anything. He was alive. Lovino was alive.
He broke the kiss to bury his nose in Lovino's shoulder, holding him tightly, pressing tiny, featherlight kisses to his neck and shoulders with every breath. "Oh Lovi, Lovi, I love you, Lovi--you're alive! You're alive!"
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Post by England on May 11, 2010 11:15:42 GMT -5
His skin was starting to turn red, Romano was certain - probably trailing behind Spain's every kiss. And again, normally he wouldn't allow this behavior without at least grumbling about it. But seeing a distressed Spain hurt - hurt a lot more than even when he came back from losing his Armada all beaten and bruised but still smiling, still pretending it was all alright.
"'course I'm alive, idiot. Why wouldn't I be." he pressed his face into faintly spicy smelling hair and held Spain close, as if it'd be enough to chase away whatever demons were bothering him. His own panic, his own fears, would have to wait.
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Post by Spain on May 11, 2010 11:25:30 GMT -5
"Y-you got shot, and I...I..." Antonio heaved a sob, smiling widely--God, he was so happy!--as he pulled out of the other's shoulder to cover his face in kisses. "I watched you die, and there was nothing I could do and I..."
Slowly, he trailed off, remembering what had happened. "I...killed a lot of people..."
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Post by England on May 11, 2010 11:35:59 GMT -5
Slowly, the color drained from his face. "I... died...?" he stared up at Spain in a daze. He didn't remember any of that... why? "I... I don't remember..." he mumbled, almost nervously. But, in a way, that was all the explanation he needed - he remembered way back in history, when he'd died the last time. It was the Plague that had gotten him and how long it took to die... well... he guessed he preferred being shot and not remembering it compared to the agony of a slow death.
But if Spain was here too then... "You... you died too... didn't you?" and even as he spoke those words he was filled with a burning hate for that war - moreso than he'd felt before. And that German bastard who'd started it - who'd stolen his brother away from him and killed them all.
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Post by Spain on May 11, 2010 11:40:43 GMT -5
He nodded, leaning in for another sweet kiss, unable to keep his hands off of hte other; tracing his cheekbones, his neck, tiny circles over his back. At Lovino's utterance, though, he sighed, looking down. "I...there were too many of them. Once we found out the name of the mercenary group that attacked you I...went there by myself."
His smile went bitter, for a moment, and he shook his head. "I took out most of them. I almost did it. I don't think I've ever been that angry in my entire life..."
The Spaniard let out a sigh, once more, and hugged him close. "The point of this is that we're here...together. And that's all that matters."
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