Spanish Heating

Summary: Central heating is a foreign concept to Spain. So how does he do it? [SpainxRomano]

Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

Rate: PG-15

Genre(s): Ficlet. Fluff.

Warnings: Language.

Author's comments: My stress outlet. The stereotypes (read: facts) presented in this fanfic are true.

DAMMIT, SPAIN!!

"It's fucking cold!!"

"Aw, Lovi…"

"Is it so fucking normal for temperatures to just suddenly drop like this??"

Antonio shrugs. "Summer doesn't last forever, Lovino, you know that."

"I do, you idiot," Lovino scoffs. "It's just seriously way too cold!" He shivers in his sweater and rubs his arms up and down. Okay, no sleeping naked tonight. NO MORE.

"No wonder your brain is so messed up!" He declares, shooting a glare at the Spaniard, sitting across the couch. "Not only do you not seem to know the correct notion of time where people eat lunch at TWELVE not at 3, you don't get that there's something called 'autumn' between summer and winter! And it's not supposed to be this fucking cold!!"

"Lovi, Lovi," Antonio laughs half-heartedly, mood already starting to be dampened by the Italian man's curses. "It's warmer outside; the forecast said the highest is 20 degrees-"

"Forecast? Ha." Lovino scoffs, turning his visage to the TV turned on before them. "See, you're such an idiot, you don't even realize that forecasts are nearly always wrong; and you live in Southern Europe. Shameful, Spain, shameful! And how long have you lived for? HA."

Spain looks wearily at the sneering Italian who keeps his grin on until he hurriedly buries his jaw into his raised knees. "Dammit, it's so cold…What the hell is wrong with your house, seriously…"

The Spaniard watches his ex-underling curl further into a ball, not paying attention to the cursed mutterings the region utters into his knees. He eyes the toes that curl around the fabric of the Italian's red socks and the red wool wrapped around his shoulders.

He looks just like a tomato, he thinks, smiling to himself.

He scooches closer, and before Romano could fully lift his head, Antonio gets up on the couch and plops directly behind the Italian and traps him into his arms.

"Wha-! SPAIN!!" He yells, immediately attempting escape.

"Stay still, Romano, it's warmer this way!" The older nation laughs, tightening his hold.

"Yeah, well, NO. No fucking way," Southern Italy struggles. "Get off!!"

"This is how we do it," Spain murmurs. "When it gets cold, you huddle with your querido and you warm each other up."

Romano heavily blushes. "Spain…" He stops struggling, craning his head back to look at Antonio…

The elder grins. "Otherwise, we have some chupitos and we dance the cold away!"

Lovino grunts and sighs exasperatedly at the same time and knocks his head onto the Spaniard's jaw. "Dammit, seriously…"

As Antonio whines, the younger Italian 'humph's and crosses his arms.

"I'm only trying to warm us up, Lovi…"

Lovino says nothing. Eventually, he ungracefully leans back into Spain and purposely bumps his head onto his shoulder for good measure. "Keep me warm then," he mutters, feigning dignity as he turns his head away from the Spaniard. "I don't want to drink nor dance with you."

Antonio pauses, and smiles warmly and hugs him closer. "Whatever you want, Lovi."

There really was no need for central heating after all…

A/N: Hah. I wish. (shivers)