Romano swerved into the driveway and jumped out of his car like the vehicle had spontaneously ejected him. He stumbled across the rough asphalt, tripping once and skinning his knees, and finally staggered to the door. Finding it locked, he plunged his hands into his pockets. Coins, candies, tissue packets and other things tumbled out onto the floor as he began his frantic search for the key. It took him another minute after he found it to unlock the door; his hands were shaking too much. He flung open the door and raced upstairs, not even bothering to wipe his shoes on the welcome mat. "Spain!" he cried as he burst into his former boss' room.

The bed was empty. Romano stood there, panting, his head spinning with confusion and panic. Where was Spain? Why wasn't he home? He slumped against the doorframe as he caught his breath.

That was when he heard a faint noise from the bathroom.

Romano approached tentatively. The noise had stopped. "S-Spain?" he said, knocking cautiously. There was a brief pause, then a retching sound and a sick splash. Romano cringed. "I-I'm coming in!"

He was hit immediately by the thick stench of vomit. As he covered his nose and tried to avoid throwing up himself, he saw Spain kneeling over the toilet. The Spaniard looked up when he heard the door open. Romano was shocked by how tired he looked. His face had paled and lost its usual cheery vigor, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. He smiled wanly at Romano. "Hi Lovi," he rasped. He got shakily to his feet and tried to hug the Italian, but missed and fell against the wall instead. Romano caught him before he could hit his head.

"Wh-what's going on? I heard from the potato bastard's brother that you were still sick, but—!" He hadn't imagined Spain could still be this ill…

"It's nothing," Spain mumbled. "I just have the flu, that's all."

"For a month? Are you kidding me? You can't have the flu for a month!" Romano put his hand to Spain's forehead as the latter rinsed his mouth. No fever. "Fuck, I'm calling the doctor!"

Spain looked at him plaintively. "Don't," he whined. "I'll probably get over this in a few more days… It's not nice to call the poor doctor over for something so trivial… He has other people to take care of…"

"Yeah, 'other people' like you! A doctor is supposed to make people feel better, not neglect them, jerk!" Romano helped the Spain back to his bed, noting how unsteady the Spaniard was on his feet. "In fact, I'll call him right now."

Spain sighed. "Fine…"

Fifteen minutes later saw Enrique Lorca taking Spain's temperature and asking a series of questions while Romano paced around worriedly. Dr. Lorca was one of the doctors charged with the special mission of caring for the nation personifications. He was a wizened old man with frizzy white hair and a goatee that Romano always thought made him look like a devil. But he was one of the best, or so Romano had heard, and he very conveniently lived in the same city as Spain. As Romano, in his anxiety, began tracing circles on the rug with his finger, he listened in on Dr. Lorca's conversation with Spain:

"Have you eaten anything out of the ordinary recently?"

"No, just the usual."

"Any changes in appetite?"

"I've been eating a lot more lately, but I haven't been able to keep it down…"

"I see. Any other symptoms?"

"Ah. Well…"

Romano's head shot up when Spain threw the blanket aside and lifted his shirt. He quickly caught himself and turned the other way, blushing. "I've been putting on weight. And my stomach has gotten all hard, see?" Spain pressed a hand to his belly. The doctor scribbled away in his notebook.

"Tell me about your sex life."

Romano's jaw dropped. What.

"Um…" Spain blushed. "W-well… I—I am… in a r-relationship with… th-that guy there…" He pointed at Romano, whose face had gotten as red as a tomato. "And w-we've been having sex… a lot." He paused. "Both ways." When Romano grimaced he added, "Oh, sorry Lovi, was I not supposed to—"

"Darn you!" Romano hid his face in his hands. He felt like crawling under the bed to die.

Dr. Lorca was the only one unfazed by the topic. "When was the last time you…?"

"About a month ago. Before I started getting really sick."

"And you were feeling ill before that as well?"

"Just a little. Mostly tiredness, and a bit of nausea at times. Oh and I kept wanting to eat the weirdest things. Like wurst and pickles and red bean paste. Haha, I sound like a pregnant woman…" He stopped laughing when he noticed Dr. Lorca's piercing gaze and Romano's horrified stare. "What? You don't think—"

"Señor Carriedo, I'd like to conduct some tests…"

It was Spain's turn to stare in horror.

"How dare you," Romano muttered when Dr. Lorca had retreated to a separate room. "I have never felt more humiliated in my life."

"Sorry… But you know, it's important to tell doctors the truth so they can find out what's wrong with you…" Romano huffed, unconvinced. Spain smiled reassuringly. "At least he won't tell anyone else, right?"

"Hmph."

"Lovi, you're so cute when you're grumpy~~~~"

"I am not! Shut up!" He was about to hit Spain when Dr. Lorca returned. There was a strange look in his eye as he trotted up to the two nations.

"Congratulations, Señor Carriedo," he said, placing a hand on Spain's shoulder.

"You're pregnant."