Title: It Will Get Better

Pairing: Spamano

Summary: Romano hates storms and all he can do is hide in his closet with some tomatoes; waiting for it to end.

A/N: Hey there mysterious Fanfiction readers! This is my first Hetalia fic and I hope you like it! Any feedback would be loved! Thank you to MelancholyMadness for Beta-ing! italics: concious thought

bold: inner thought

Romano hated the way he felt recently. It was everything he was not: happy, caring, and even loving. But it wasn't like anyone could make him admit it dammit! No one. Fuck he'd even eat potatoes before he told anyone and that was saying something!

It looked like it was going to storm outside. Romano hated storms even more than the way he felt so he prepared: gathering all the best tomatoes he could find along with pillows, blankets, and other assorted soft things. (Manly soft things, might he add)

It had become his secret ritual that had started when he was younger. Spain was gone a lot of the time and even when he was there, like hell would he go to that bastard for comfort. Never. Besides, no one but his idiot brother knew that he would curl up and hide whenever there was more than a drizzle outside. So he went into the closet with just enough room for Romano to fit comfortably (maybe two could fit if they squished) and was ready to wait out the storm.

The thunder and lightning were to be marveled at. So loud and so bright, Spain thought as he was heading home. He had just been over at Germany's house with Italy.

Feli was acting a bit strange, he mused, almost worried. However, the moment he thought it he laughed. That couldn't be it! Italy was much too happy to be worried. And anyways, the only thing Italy had said out of character (that is, something that wasn't about pasta and Germany) was something about Romano and being indoors and comfy. Whatever that meant. Spain realised that he was walking right by the house Romano shared with his brother.

"I haven't visited my little tomato in so long! It would be nice to pay him a visit." Not to mention get out of this weather! Spain added as a second thought.

The wind was picking up sending a chill down his bones, the wind slapping him and freezing his drenched body. That was when he noticed how late it had become. The sky had become much darker, though it was still early evening.

A giant flash of lightning shot across the sky, illuminating the Vargas' home.

Spain walked up to the door and knocked. Then he waited. And waited. And waited. And knocked again. And waited some more. He knocked a third time, thinking his little Lovi might not have heard him over the thunder. Spain just kept waiting.

It was horrible. Romano could still see the flashes of light under the door and through closed eyelids; could still hear the roaring chaos of thunder claps; could still feel the warm, salty tears on his cheeks no matter how many times he told himself to be strong goddamnit! It will be over soon. It will be over soon…

Spain was getting concerned. Normally, if Lovi was choosing not to let him in, there would usually be cursing and stomping coming from the other side of the door. Inside, the house was silent. What if something had happened? What if his little Lovi was hurt?

Romano is going to kill me later, thought Spain as he broke down the front door.

If anything had happened to his little tomato…

Spain stormed through the house looking into all the rooms, searching for Romano. When he reached the bedroom, Spain stopped. What if he was only sleeping all this time? That would definitely be awkward. However, the thought of Lovi hurt ripped all reasoning out of Spain's head, and he flung open Romano's bedroom door.

The room was dark except for the blue-white flashes coming from the window. That didn't make any sense though. Lovi had to be in here.Spain was sure he could smell tomatoes (Fresh tomatoes if his nose wasn't deceiving him) and was that a blanket sticking out from under the close door? Spain crept closer, still wondering and still hoping everything was all right.

Romano wasn't sure if he was imagining the sounds of banging getting closer. It could just be the storm or even just his imagination.

That almost sounds like footsteps, he thought but cast the idea away quickly. Feli is at his darling Ludwig's house anyway, and who else would it be? He didn't care. He didn't need anybody. He wasn't a sissy. He wasn't fucking crying! He was just so manly that his eyes were sweating!

…Ew.

But you are scared though…a voice said mutinously from the back of his mind. Fucking voices…he thought, but inside, no matter how much he wanted to, Romano couldn't deny that the voices were right for there were rivers flowing from his eyes.

He found the storm terrifying. He couldn't help it. Even the potatoes weren't helping him calm down. A flash of lightning shone through the crack in the closet, followed by a crash of thunder. Romano flinched and just curled up tighter, covered his head with a few pillows and waited for it to stop. Wished for it to get better.

Suddenly the door was open and there was a figure silhouetted against the most recent flash of light. The figure just stood there in the doorway, looking ominous with the lightning flashing behind him.

It took a moment to register the scene before him before Spain slowly got down and pulled Romano into a protective embrace. The Italian latched onto his arm.

I never knew! How did I not know my little tomato, my Lovi was afraid of storms? Spain sat there just holding Romano and whispering comfort.

"I'm here…it's okay…it will be over soon…don't worry…be strong…I'm here…it's okay…everything will be okay…" He hoped he wasn't lying.

Romano hated himself. Why was he letting that bastard hold and comfort him? Why did he start to believe those words coming from the Spaniard's mouth? Of course everything was NOT going to be okay! There was the stupid storm with the stupid lightning and the stupid thunder with the stupid tomato bastard squeezed into the stupid tiny closet! And he was loving every fucking second of it! And he hated himself for it. His stupid feelings. They were to blame! It was their fault! His fear, his insecurity, his jealousy, his anger…his love. Why is love so annoying! It's mutinous. Romano couldn't stand the Spanish man and his eccentricities. He hated the way Spain said his name, the way he woke Romano up in the morning, the way Spain was such a moron.

Then memories came, unbidden by Romano: the way Spain called him his Lovi, the way he was woken by cheerful smiles and hugs, the way Spain's stupidity almost brought a smile to the surface. Romano remembered the way Spain would laugh whenever he would blush or yell insults at the other man, the way Spain always seemed to know that Romano didn't really mean all the things he said. Romano remembered shared siestas, afternoons spent in the tomato garden, and those rare moments when he was happy. Why did most of his happy memories revolve around that bastard? That wasn't true; some happy moments had been with his fratello.

You can't deny it much longer, that voice said from the back of his head.

Shut up, Romano replied.

You know you lo-

Don't you dare!

He dismissed the thought. Why couldn't Spain just go away? It would make everything better.

Would it?

Maybe.

Spain looked down at the man in his arms. The tears had almost stopped along with the storm and now that Romano would be calming down, he would probably hurt the Spanish man if he realised that he was touching him. It was always like that. Slowly, not to disrupt his little tomato too much, Spain unwound his arms. To his immense surprise however, he hear Romano whisper.

"Please…don't." He almost missed it, it was so quiet.

His heart thumped. Spain couldn't believe this was happening. He was frozen with shock.

"D-don't l-leave me bastard…" Romano whispered again. "I n-need you. Here. With me."

It looked as though the few words uttered were hugely difficult for the Italian who gave up with stupid, unfeeling, overused words and pulled Spain closer back into the embrace. The Spaniard responded with enthusiasm. When he looked down at the other's face he saw those beautiful amber eyes pleading, with tears lingering within and on tomato cheeks, for Spain to say something. The words he needed to hear.

"I need you too, my dearest Lovino. I have for quite a long time." Spain whispered back into Romano's ear while peppering his head with kisses.

Romano could not believe the words he was hearing or that he was wrapped in those arms breathing in that sunshine smell of the man he lo-ha-loved. That was hard to think. For years Romano had suppressed his feelings behind empty threats, words, and punches. But when the moment came, the moment Romano believed would make everything better; he found he couldn't bear to lose the bastard.

His body had reacted before he could stop it, the words leaving his lips and arms clinging to Spain's shirt as though it was a lifeline. Stupid feelings. There were tears sliding down his face. He was still crying. Romano had promised himself to never cry in front of anyone but his brother but here he was. At least now they were tears of joy.

The bastard needed him. Him! Romano knew he wasn't as nice or cute as his brother. Everyone loved his brother but that didn't matter anymore. Spain had said he needed him. It meant the world to Romano. He wanted to stay right in this moment forever. Forever in this wonderful tiny closet in the beautiful tomato bastard's arms with kisses on his head. Romano's heart had swelled and he felt like it would burst if anything could make him love that idiot more.

Spain didn't want the moment to end. He had wanted this for years. Just himself and his Lovi. The Italian looked like an angel within his arms (especially because he was being compliant). However, any moment now it would all be over. Romano would come to his senses and start yelling. Before that happened he wanted to do something that he had wanted to do since Romano was just a little chibi; tell him he loved him. He stroked Romano's cheek, making him look up with joy-filled eyes. Spain placed the lightest of kisses to Romano's forehead and looked into his eyes. He felt like while he was looking into Lovino's eyes, he would be speaking to his soul. Anything he said right now would mean so much more.

"Lovino, I love you. Te amo. Ti amo."

Romano's heart exploded. At least it felt like all the love he felt for Spain spread to every part and fibre of his being. The golden shrapnel lodged in his stomach making it do flips and turns. Looking into Spain's eyes, he not only heard the words, but saw them repeated in every thought and movement. How could he have been so blind? The man obviously loved him and wanted to be with him.

Romano could have flown, or done something incredible unmanly, like giggle. For Spain at that moment, Romano might have even eaten a potato. Maybe. He felt like he could do anything.

Spain loved him. He was probably glowing. In fact, he could feel his cheeks warm up as he blushed bright red. Slightly annoyed, he saw in Spain's eyes the desire to make a comparison between his cheeks and tomatoes. Surprisingly, he bit his lip and held it back. Could he be just as afraid of messing this up as I am? Romano wondered. Feeling like he wanted to show Spain how much he loved him and not trusting his ability with words, Romano did something he had never done before. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Spain's. Just one blissful moment. One so-short-it-was-barely-there kiss. As light as a feather. Romano leaned back and averted his eyes, stupidly afraid that Spain would be horrified and leave.

So this is love. This is heaven. Amazed, Spain had to resist the urge to press his fingers to his lips to hold the feeling there. Lovi kissed me! But…why won't Lovi look at me? Unimpressed (and wanting to repay the gift) Spain grabbed Romano's face and turned it toward him before kissing back.

"Antonio," Romano breathed against Spain's lips.

Spain almost cried. Romano had said his name. His real name. It was the most wonderful, adorable, meaningful, loving thing Romano had ever done for him. It had never happened before. Spain couldn't hold back anymore. He crushed his lips to Romano's. The other responded enthusiastically and Spain didn't plan on ending the kiss for anything. He had forgotten the need to breath, however. All too soon, the pair broke apart, panting.

Romano was sure his face was as red as his overflowing heart. He had never felt this before. An all-consuming, overwhelming, compelling, and utterly incredible emotion. It was amazing. He could surely tell Spain how much he meant to him. The walls around his heart had finally fallen. He was ready. He was done with denying how he felt. He would say those fateful words. I love you.

" Spagna?" Do it now, before you lose your nerve!

"Yes, Lovi?"

"I-I…love you. T-ti amo troppo..." It felt good to say it. To express his feelings. It was as though a weight was lifted off Romano's shoulders. He didn't have to worry about whether Spain returned his feelings or if he should tell him. Spain had told him how much he loved him (in several languages to boot) and now Spain knew that Romano loved him back.

Spain had lied: everything was not okay. It was more than okay, it was great. Lovi loved him too! Spain hugged Romano tighter and the two sat in blissful silence, for the storm was gone. That is until,

"Can we come out of the closet bastard? My ass hurts!"