Chapter Seven

It's taken me a couple days, but I finally got this chapter done! Phew! And dang, I'm just having all these Romano feels. *sweats* Anyway, here's chapter seven. Enjoy :]. And I don't own these babies!

Italy was starting to worry about his brother. He'd seen Romano take off in the direction of America's house after the whole Spain fiasco (why America's house, he didn't know). Italy had driven himself home, but after the oldest Italian didn't return home after several hours, he really began to worry. What if Roma was dead? What if he'd done something rash and had hurt himself? This whole predicament had really upset Romano, and now Italy was certain he'd gone and done something awful. He could be passed out or dead in a ditch! The little Italian's hair curl bounced in anticipation as he lept up from his couch and grabbed the keys to his Fiat, overcome with concern. He quickly sped off towards the conference building, and then in the direction he'd seen Romano drive off in. Italy really hoped his brother was ok.

The road from the conference building was straight and didn't have any turns, so Italy was sure he was going down the same path Romano had. Gradually, the street changed into a country road paved with dirt instead of concrete. On the shoulder of the road he saw his brother's yellow Fiat 500x parked, and just behind it was a bright red Ford F-150- clearly America's car. Italy stopped the car and hopped out, going over to peer inside America's truck window first. The keys were still in the ignition, and a half-eaten hamburger lay of the seat. Weird….

Then the youngest Italian slowly approached his brother's car, afraid he would see both countries lying inside with their throats slit or something equally as horrible. What he saw instead shocked him more than their murders would have.

America lay mostly on top of Romano, covering the smaller nation, with only his bomber jacket to cover himself. Both of them were naked and covered in dried cum and sweat; clearly they'd been doing more than just cuddling. Italy turned away, feeling sick. What about Big Brother Spain? Clearly America had just been a rebound for Romano. But did Italy have the right to tell the Spaniard what he'd seen? He wanted to, because he knew how much they both cared for each other and wanted them to get together, but Romano would be really pissed at Italy if he knew he'd told Spain. Of course, Romano knew that Spain fucked with Prussia and France, so why couldn't Spain know that Romano had fucked with America? Italy bit his lip, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he reached through the open front window of the yellow Fiat and grabbed his brother's phone, accessing the camera feature and snapping a quick photo of the sleeping nations before sending it to Spain. Then he put the phone back and raced back to his car, speeding to Germany's house and making it there in record time. He slipped into bed with the German, snuggling into his strong chest. They'll never even know it was me, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

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France reclined on the couch next to his (hopefully) new boyfriend England, who was drinking tea and ignoring all of the Frenchman's advances and pleas to cuddle. France was still unsure where his relationship with the Brit stood, but he hadn't thrown up or run away yet, so that was a good sign.

France's phone rang, and at first he ignored it (with the ringtone being "Loca" by Shakira, he knew it was Spain). But it kept ringing and ringing; the Spaniard was relentless. Clearly something was wrong, but France was just so lazy to answer. Finally England spoke up from where he sat as far away from France as possible. "Just answer the bloody phone! I'm going to make some more tea." The Brit got up and went into the kitchen as France answered. He was immediately bombarded with yelling on the other line.

"DID YOU KNOW? DID YOU?! I CAN'T BELIEVE LOVI WOULD GO AND DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS AND THEN TAKE A PICTURE AND SEND IT TO ME JUST TO TAUNT ME! IT'S SICK! IT'S VILE! I'M GOING TO KILL THAT AMERCIAN BASTARD! ¡EL ESTÁ TAN MUERTA! ¡SÓLO TIENE QUE ESPERAR HASTA QUE ME PONGA LAS MANOS ENCIMA DE ÉL-" (He is so dead! Just wait until I get my hands on him-"

"Whoa! Slow down, mon ami! What are you talking about?"

"This!" France glanced at the photo Spain had just sent him and raised his eyebrows. "Merde! Looks like Romano and America have been having a little fun together, no?"

"I can't believe Romano would do this!" Spain fumed. "A one-night stand in the back of his car with that American?! He can't just go out and do stuff like that! He just can't! I won't allow it!"

"You cannot treat Roma like a piece of property, mon ami, he is not even your boyfriend! He is not yours to command around. He can do what he wants," France said gently, knowing it was rough for the Spaniard to see the man he loves with someone else. "You need to tell him how you feel if you truly want to be in a relationship with him."

Spain was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "You're right….I've been stupid about all of this….but why would Romano send me a picture like that?! Now he'll just laugh in my face if I try to tell him how I feel! He must hate me…"

"Ah, I would not be so quick to write him off," France said with a chuckle. "After all, my angleterre did not reject me, and I was almost certain he would!"

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING ABOUT ME, YOU GIT?!" England yelled from the kitchen.

"All good things, mon amour~" France called back.

"So you're with England, huh?" Spain asked, momentarily forgetting a about his problem with Romano. "How's that going?"

"Ah…I'm unsure," France said, putting Spain on speakerphone and setting the phone down so he could tie his hair back. "He has not rejected me, but he has not exactly welcomed my advances either." France lowered his voice so the Brit wouldn't be able to hear. "I am afraid that he will not be able to get over the centuries of hate we have had for each other."

"Don't worry Francis, if he cares about you I'm sure he'll tell you soon. If not, you'll find someone better." Spain sighed. "I'd better go talk to Romano…."

"Oui. Tell me if it works out or not. If not, I might want to take a shot at tapping that ass, as America would say. Ohonhonhon~"

"Francis!"

"Just kidding! Good luck!"

"Good luck to you too, amigo."

Will Romano end up with Spain or America, or neither? *aggressive mysterious eye brow wiggle* Stay tuned to find out. Also, if I made any mistakes language- wise, blame Google translate :3.