Yo! So I was reading some story where, at some point, America said that he noticed Spain and Romano holding hands under the table and thus, we get this. Here we go!

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Hetalia

Lovino Vargas was drifting off.

Not that this wasn't a normal occurrence; The monthly world conferences-that he didn't even have to go to ("We only need one Italy and we'd rather it be the more agreeable one.")-were incredibly boring, even with the constant bickering and occasional fights. As a result, Lovino found himself, more often than not, completely tuning the speaker out and falling asleep. Not that anyone noticed. Well, maybe Antonio noticed, but according to Lovino, he didn't count as "anyone" ("That bastard is too annoying and stupid to be a country, much less be included in the general population.")

This was most likely because Antonio, more often than not, took advantage of the whole "everyone ignores us" situation to embarrass Lovino. During key points in the meeting, he would whisper something ridiculous into Lovino's ear, making him turn a "cute" shade of tomato red and yell in Italian until someone said something like "Why is he even here?", at which point the pair would glare at their fellow countries until Ludwig urged whoever had been interrupted to go on.

That day had been no exception, but Antonio had already played out his usual ear whispering antics, so Lovino had thought that he was safe from being harassed as he attempted to siesta.

He was, of course, wrong.

Right as he could feel sleep's sweet grasp, something else-someone else-grabbed his hand. Lovino didn't even need to open his eyes to see who it was.

"Get the fuck off of my hand, pervertito," Lovino growled as he attempted to rescue his hand from the Spainard's vice grip

"But Lovi," Antonio whined, "Your hand is so soft, like a chica's."

"I. Am not. A girl." Lovino managed to quietly grit through his teeth, "And my hand is not soft, dammit!"

Antonio grinned and began rubbing his thumb over the back of Lovino's hand, a gesture that Lovino found strangely comforting, even if he wouldn't tell a soul. Lovino elected to spend the rest of the boring conference trying to wrestle his hand away, but to no avail. As the meeting ended, Lovino politely asked Antonio to "stop molesting my hand, you fucking pervert", but Antonio once again refused.

"It's so nice holding hands with you, Lovi~"

"The meeting is ending." Lovino attempted once more to rescue his hand. "Let go so we can leave."

Antonio pouted, "Why can't I just keep holding your hand?"

"Because there are other people around, idiot!"

"So if we were alone, then you'd let me?"

Lovino turned red from a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Shut the hell up and let go of my hand."

"But Lovi!" He was whining again, this time paired with a set of irresistible puppy eyes, "No one will notice and it's so nice and your hand is soft and I love you and-"

Lovino placed his free hand over Antonio's mouth. "Shut up. You can keep holding my hand, but we're leaving last, capisce?

The Spainard grinned and cooed, "Te quiero, Lovi~"

"Yeah, yeah... Ti amo, bastard."

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